by Tess Summers
And damn, he smells so good.
Getting back into her personal space, he seemed to purposefully reach across her, brushing her chest as he took an emerald green tee off its hanger. Handing it to her, he said softly, “This one. It will match your eyes.”
“This one it is. Now, go!” He was now openly leering at her while she made a shooing motion with her hands.
He started to walk toward the kitchen, then stopped and turned around.
“Why don’t you pack an overnight bag too.” He gave her a wink and headed out the bedroom door.
Again, it wasn’t a question, it was a statement.
And that damn wink.
He didn’t have to ask—okay, tell—her twice. Ava slipped the green shirt over her head before finding a weekend bag and stuffing items in it.
I think I like him.
Crap.
Remember to keep it casual, girl. He is out of your league. Keep your eye on the prize.
She suddenly had a thought and stopped her packing to walk to the bedroom doorway and call out to him. “Do you want to go change? I mean, well, look at you and look at me now.” She gestured to him then back to herself. She realized at that moment she hadn’t commented on his attire yet. “You look very handsome, by the way.”
“We’ll stop by my place after this.” He added teasingly, “Thank you. I was beginning to wonder if you’d noticed.”
She started back toward the bedroom to finish grabbing her things. “Oh, I noticed.”
Overnight bag in hand, they were walking out the front door when she remembered she hadn’t packed her toothbrush. She handed him the heavy bag and said, “I’ll be right back!”
“Good grief, how long are you planning on staying?” he called after her.
After fifteen seconds, she appeared again at the door, toothbrush in hand. “This—” She gestured up and down her body with her free hand, “—doesn’t just happen, ya know,” and closed the door behind her.
“I saw you last night without any of that—” He made the same gesture up and down her body as she had, “—and I loved it. You are beautiful, with or without the pizazz.”
She smiled at him, stood on her tiptoes, and put her hands around his neck. “That’s…very kind…of you…to say.” She kissed him in between whispering the words.
Putting his forehead against hers, he whispered back, “It’s the truth.”
She was having fun flirting with him without worrying if she looked stupid. Not that she wanted to look stupid; she just wasn’t concerned about it and could be herself. If he didn’t call after tomorrow, it wouldn’t be a big deal. The goal was Operation Sex Kitten—putting theory into practice and gaining new experiences to win her ex-boyfriend back, or at least make him sorry he dumped her.
She locked her door and then nonchalantly declared over her shoulder as she spun around and started prancing toward the parking lot, “I brought the shoes.”
Chapter 7
TRAVIS watched Ava practically skip to the parking lot. He knew he was in trouble. He was smitten and it’d been less than twenty-four hours since he first met her.
Starting after her, he smiled. This is going to be interesting.
She immediately walked over to the passenger door of his black BMW M5 and waited for him to catch up.
His first thought was, ‘How does she know which car is mine?’ but it didn’t take but a second to recognize there probably weren’t a lot of $95,000 cars in the visitor parking at her condominium complex on a regular basis.
He made a lot of money. A lot. And he worked his ass off for every cent so he didn’t feel guilty for buying expensive things but also made sure he gave back. He had a few pet projects he was personally a big supporter of—Wounded Warrior Project probably being the one he gave the most money to by far—but he was still a big donor to two local animal rescues that regularly saved dogs and cats who were scheduled to be euthanized. He was also the anonymous donor that supplied college tuition scholarships for five single mothers going back into the workforce. In addition, he made sure his firm contributed to any local causes whenever they were approached for a donation. Frannie Ericson knew that and always used it to her advantage. Ava’s mother was involved with a multitude of causes and charities that she gave as much of her time to as she would a full-time job.
How Travis came to support the Wounded Warrior Project and the tuition scholarships went hand-in-hand. His childhood best friend, Todd Campbell, had been wounded in Afghanistan while serving in the Marines. Travis was appalled at the lack of care his buddy received when he came back home. Unfortunately, Travis was still studying for the bar, so he couldn’t offer much in terms of financial support. When he started his law career and was making a little bit of money, he tried to offer as much assistance to his friend as he could afford. Within a few years of returning home from combat, Todd died due to complications from his injuries. It destroyed Travis he couldn’t do more for his friend so when three years later, Todd’s widower decided to return to school at the local community college, he wanted to help her. He was in a better financial position to do so but knew she would refuse his money, so he created a scholarship where he could remain anonymous as the donor. In order to get the school’s help in getting her to apply for the endowment, he created two. When he read the heartfelt letters of thanks from the women he helped and the difference an education made in their lives, he had no problem keeping it going year after year, even expanding it to five scholarships once he made partner. Francine approached him the first year she was chairing the ball benefitting a little known charity at the time called the Wounded Warrior Project. Travis jumped at the chance to honor his friend and became the title sponsor from the very first year even though it was a strain on his budget at the time.
The animal rescues came about because of his secretary, Kelli, who was very involved in helping animals. She was also the reason he ended up with Fred and Ginger, his two miniature poodles. Yes, he had miniature poodles and as much as he pretended they were a pain, he loved how happy they were to see him every night. Fred and Ginger’s elderly owner had passed away and when Kelli found out it broke her heart thinking of them going to the shelter where they might possibly be separated. She was visibly distraught about it one afternoon, and he made the mistake of asking what was wrong. When she asked him if he would be interested in taking them, he cited he was never home, which she of all people should know. When Kelli said she would make all the arrangements to hire a twice-daily dog walker who would also groom, feed, and pick up after them, he reluctantly agreed, if for no other reason than to keep the woman who took care of him at work happy. Basically, she promised, he would be providing them a place to live and attention when he was home. Not to mention provide an income for one lucky dog walker, he mused. Within the first week of them arriving, he had a contractor out to fence off part of his yard and put in a doggie door. Soon, Kelli was telling him about different animals’ plights, and he promised to write a check every month to her two favorite animal rescues if she swore to never tell him another sad dog story again. She happily took the deal.
He insisted most of his personal contributions be anonymous to the public, the only exception being the WWP. He had the reputation of being a son-of-a-bitch to uphold. Not that it was hard; frankly, he was a son-of-a-bitch when it came to his profession. That’s what made him a partner in his firm by age thirty-four, and he didn’t apologize for it. People made the assumption that persona carried over into his private life, although, he had to admit, sometimes that assumption was warranted. Maybe not the being an s.o.b. part, but he knew he was arrogant and could be demanding. He was forty years old and wasn’t going to change now.
Travis opened Ava’s car door and got her situated before going round and sliding into the driver’s seat.
“Nice ride.” She smiled as he started the engine.
“Thanks, it’s one of my favorites.”
*
She understood
what he meant by one of as they drove up his driveway. He had a three-car garage attached to his house and an entire free-standing six-car garage off to the side.
“Is that full of cars?” she asked with wide eyes.
“Nah.” He winked. “I’ve got a truck and boat in there too.”
“Seriously, how many cars do you own?”
“Six, including the truck,” he replied matter-of-factly. As if to say, doesn’t everyone own six vehicles?
He parked in the circular drive in front of the house, rather than in the garage, indicating they weren’t staying long. His home and grounds were beautiful, yet understated. An L-shaped single level Craftsman, probably built in the 1960s, that had recently undergone a complete renovation. He unlocked the front door using his thumb print instead of keys and escorted her inside. There were lots of floor-to-ceiling windows with bright, open space—it was quite the contrast to her parents’ Tudor with dark wood. The house was tastefully decorated with white walls and furniture and perfectly placed colored accent pieces—professionally done, she was sure. He led her through the formal living room, past the dining area, and into the kitchen. The first thing she noticed when she stepped into his gourmet area was how large and clean it was. It flowed into the great room, and the entire back wall was made of windows that faced the pool. The second thing she noticed was the sound of little dogs barking. Travis opened a door that appeared to lead to a laundry room the size of her condo, and out ran two little white fluffy dogs. They danced and twirled at the sight of their master, and Ava couldn’t believe it when the six-feet-two-inch man in front of her started talking sweetly to them. She never would have pegged him for the poodle type; Dobermans or Rottweilers seemed to be more his style. He reached down and picked up one in each hand, then laughed when they kissed him like they hadn’t seen him in a month.
“You saw me an hour ago!” he playfully chided them.
He set them back down and after a couple of pirouettes at his feet, they ran to investigate the intruder their owner had brought into the house with him. They approached Ava and immediately reared up on their back legs, prompting her to kneel down to let them smell her. When they decided she was okay, they kissed her like she was a long-lost relative.
“What are their names?” She giggled and hugged them close in order to keep them from kissing her face anymore.
“Fred and Ginger.”
She stood up and raised her eyebrows. “As in Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers?”
“The very same.”
She gave him a look that conveyed what she was thinking. Who is this guy?
“Don’t look at me. Their former owner, an elderly gentleman, named them. I’m told because of their dancing skills.”
“That makes sense.” She smiled as the pair pranced back to Travis, who had opened a drawer and pulled out little rawhide sticks. Fred and Ginger politely sat until he gave them the treats and then scurried back to the laundry room to devour them.
“Make yourself at home while I go get changed. There’s a nice selection of wines in the wine fridge. The opener is in the drawer to the left of it, and wine glasses are in the cupboard above. There’s soda, juice, and water in the big refrigerator.”
“Thanks,” she replied and watched him go back the way they came in. She assumed that eventually led to his bedroom.
She walked over to look at his wine selection but wasn’t actually comprehending what the labels said as she was lost in thought about Travis Sterling, trying to reconcile everything she’d heard about him with everything she’d seen personally. She understood how he could have the reputation he had, yet her mother had nothing but adoration for the man. When she first met him last night, he was an ass and still, somehow, she ended up in bed with him for what she thought was her first one-night stand. Then he laid on the charm with his wonderful gestures of a cleaning crew, roses, and dinner at Evangeline’s. Now here she stood in his kitchen looking at his wine selection.
Eye on the prize.
She jumped when she heard his voice asking, “Did you pick a wine?”
She grabbed the closest white to her and pulled it out of the rack. “How about this one?” she asked, having no idea what she had grabbed, and turned around to face him. He was dressed now in a simple black T-shirt that emphasized his broad chest and muscular arms and was tucked into a pair of faded Levi’s with a black leather belt. His black Chuck Taylor’s made him look like he was twenty-eight years old. Doesn’t he know he’s too old to wear those? She had to admit, though, he could pull it off.
She walked over to the kitchen island where he was standing with his hands on the counter. He took the bottle from her, examined it, and raised his eyebrows. “You want this?”
Having no idea how to explain why she didn’t have a clue about what she had handed him, she went with, “To be honest, I’d rather have a vodka and orange juice, if you have it.”
One corner of his mouth lifted, revealing that adorable dimple. “Yeah, I have that.” He went around to the other side of the kitchen island where she had come from. He put the wine back and went about getting a rocks glass from a glass-fronted cupboard, then knelt down to a lower cabinet next to the wine refrigerator and pulled out a tray with a large metal container, the kind her milkshakes were brought in when she went to her favorite diner. He opened up a cupboard below the island counter, and she heard shelves sliding before he appeared again with sherbet vodka, one of many he had offered as an option. He went about theatrically adding ice, vodka, and orange juice from the big refrigerator, then took the metal container’s twin and twisted the two together so he could shake the ingredients without spilling, smiling at her the entire time like he had a secret. He unscrewed the container and was about to empty the contents when Ava asked, “Do you have a tall glass?” She had seen how much vodka he had added.
Smirking, he added more orange juice and repeated the mixing process before pouring the liquid into a tall glass. He handed her the drink across the black marble counter and waited, watching her as she tasted it. It was delicious.
“Wow, this tastes yummy,” she said as she eyed him over the glass and took another sip.
He came around to where she was standing and put his arms around her, placing his hands underneath her butt and pulling her close to him. “Yummy, huh? I don’t think anyone’s ever described my concoctions that way.”
“Maybe you’ve just been making them for the wrong people,” she said with a seductive smile.
He took her glass and set it back on the counter.
“Maybe I have,” he murmured as he brought his mouth over hers and slid his hands up her back, grabbing a handful of her hair and tugging a little. She let out a little moan as he fully enveloped her mouth with his. Soon he was tugging her shirt over her head and pulling her bra haphazardly down below her boobs to free them from being constricted in the garment.
He stared appreciatively at her perky round globes while uttering, “You have the most amazing tits,” and then cupped one in each hand before leaning over and sucking on her stiff nipples. He swirled his tongue around one then gently sucked on the other before finding her lips again with his. He didn’t let go of her breasts and started massaging them harder as he put more pressure on her mouth. Ava had never been touched liked this before. Brad usually just squeezed her tits like they were stress balls before climbing on top of her.
Travis was steering her backwards while still kissing her, and it took her a second to realize that what she was bumping against was the sectional in the adjoining family room. The lovers pulled apart long enough to get their bearings on the sofa. She removed her bra as she watched him pull his T-shirt over his head to reveal that well-sculpted core of his. It was like she was making out with a model from a cologne advertisement in the mall. The realization turned her on and made her feel self-conscious all at the same time. Fortunately, she didn’t have time to dwell on the idea she was inadequate as he had pushed her onto the
couch and pressed his bare chest against hers while resuming their passionate make-out session. The feel of his skin against hers sent shivers down her spine and the scent of him only added to her arousal. Soon she found herself grinding her hips against his, and they started moving in a rhythm that, had they not had jeans on, would have led to at least one of them having an orgasm. Who was she kidding? At this pace, she could have an orgasm with or without the jeans on.
Mouth still on hers, he reached down and started unbuckling his belt, followed by unbuttoning his jeans and she followed suit, lifting her butt up and shimmying out of her tight denim. She had left her underwear on, which he immediately dispatched the minute he felt them against his erection.
Then, all of a sudden, he stopped. “Damn,” he muttered as he pulled himself off her. “I’ll be right back.”
She sat up and watched his bare ass retreat, not running, but walking very fast toward the kitchen exit. He was back in record time with a little purple square package he flung on the mahogany coffee table before sitting next to her naked body and putting his arm around her shoulder.
“Where were we?” he inquired and began nuzzling her neck. She was happy to notice he hadn’t lost his erection during the interruption.
“I think right about there,” she answered.
Sliding his hand between her legs, he started to rub her wet pussy. Watching her face as he began to explore her folds, he asked, “Are you sure we weren’t here?”
She drew a sharp breath in, closed her eyes, and starting moving against his hand. “Mmm, I think you might be right.”
He plunged two fingers deep inside her, and she gasped again. “No, you’re right, that’s definitely where we were.”
She surprised herself at how eagerly and shamelessly she spread her legs for him, and he began to finger her while continuing to explore her mouth with his, his index and middle fingers going deep inside then slowly sliding out before deliberately reentering her deeply again. She was making quiet moaning noises with her eyes closed. He continued to thrust his digits in and out of her before sliding his hand up to her clit. When she instinctively closed her legs a little, he authoritatively pulled them back open.
