by Sami Lee
In short, she wanted to be anyone but her.
Corey flashed her a smile that was equal parts shy and sexy. “I’m interested.”
Mother superior would leave the convent for that smile. “I told you I’m a teacher.”
Corey nodded. “History and English. Is that why you carry such a big book around with you?”
Erica detected an edge in the question, and she wondered if he thought her the biggest dork in the world. “I’ve always liked to read, my Aunt Claire’s influence.”
“Your aunt?”
His interest in her was obvious, and for once Erica decided to let down her shields a fraction. Whether it was the wine or the warmth of the man across from her, Erica didn’t know. “She died earlier this year. She left me her house and her vast collection of leather-bound originals.”
Aunt Claire had left her other things too, but Erica definitely did not want to discuss the details of that particular legacy.
“I’m sorry.” The softness in his blue eyes told Erica it wasn’t a meaningless platitude. “Were you close?”
“Yes.” Erica’s throat constricted around the word. “She raised me from the time I was twelve, when my mother died.”
“What about your dad?”
Her father hadn’t been able to handle Erica’s needs, the panic attacks and separation anxiety she’d suffered after losing her mother to a long battle with cancer. He’d been tapped out after so many years dealing with his wife’s illness. When he moved to the far north for work, Erica had moved in with Claire, who’d accepted the presence of her sister’s sullen teenage daughter in her life with loving aplomb.
“He thought I was better off with my aunt,” Erica said.
As though he sensed all she’d left unsaid, Griff offered bluntly, “He sounds like a prick.”
Corey sent his friend a censuring look, but Erica smiled faintly. The days when she would have leapt to her father’s defense were long behind her. She’d grown up and learned not to rely on a man to be there when the chips were down. “He lives in the Northern Territory now.” With a whole new family, a less needy one. “We exchange Christmas cards but that’s about it.”
“Oh, Erica.” Tugging on her fingertips, Corey coaxed her hand toward him. He held it turned upward on the tabletop, caressing her sensitive palm with his thumb while he looked into her eyes, more deeply than any man ever had.
Her heart was going to pump right out of her chest if he didn’t stop staring at her like that, like he wanted nothing better than to hold her in his arms and make all the past hurts disappear. It would be so easy to fall for a man like Corey Wachawski.
But she wasn’t here to start a relationship. She was in no position to fall for anyone. Erica extracted her hand because the contact seemed to be more about emotional connection than sexual stimulation, although the latter had certainly had its effect on her body. She shifted in her seat, trying to alleviate the ache. “What about you? Do you get on with your parents?”
Corey allowed her to steer the focus back onto him, even though this time Erica thought he was aware of her ploy. “My mother’s great. Works as a secretary with a real estate company. My dad’s a cop with thirty years on the job. He likes to rib me about becoming a fiery, says I broke his heart.”
“Why didn’t you go into police work?”
Griff chuckled. “He wanted to be in the beefcake calendar.”
“Shut up.” Corey rolled his eyes. “He’s joking. That whole calendar thing’s embarrassing.”
“You see, Red, what you have here is the last of the noble men,” Griff drawled. “He only posed for the firefighter’s calendar to raise money for the kids’ burn unit—not for the chicks.”
“What about you?”
Griff showed her a wide grin. “I did it for both reasons. And for a lark. I figure they were pretty desperate that year to ask a guy with a mug like mine to pose.”
His self-deprecating statement had Erica studying the face in question. He wasn’t handsome in the traditional, breath-stealing sense that Corey was. Griff’s nose was a little crooked, his lips not as sinfully full as his friend’s. But the lively sparkle that danced in his hazel eyes and the bold flash of his easy smile enhanced the appeal of his chiseled features, hard body and confident demeanor.
Corey said, “He’s pretending to be modest. He knows he’s in pretty good shape for an old bloke.”
“Thirty-six is not old, you twenty-two-year-old shithead.”
“Twenty-five.”
“Close enough.” Griff smiled. Erica sensed the age difference was an ongoing source of teasing between them. “I could still whip your butt in the gym, no matter how old you are.”
“On the treadmill maybe. Not at the weight bench.”
Erica listened, amused, as they continued their affectionate game of one-upmanship. So this was dick-measuring in action. She’d never had men do it for her benefit. Erica couldn’t help but be a little flattered they might bother to try to impress her. Flattered and aroused.
She wanted them—both of them, like she’d never wanted before. But how on earth was she going to take the next step and make it happen?
“Can I buy you another drink?”
“Maybe a Coke,” Erica replied to Corey’s question. Her throat was suddenly parched.
Corey headed to the bar, leaving Griff and Erica alone. After the relatively easy banter they’d both shared with Corey, the sudden dearth of dialogue was as loud as the Nickelback hit playing in the background. Erica felt the weight of Griff’s stare and the speculation in it.
Erica forced herself to meet his gaze and hold it. “I think one of my students would tell you to take a picture because it would last longer.”
His lips quirked. “Just trying to figure it out.”
“Figure what out?”
“Your angle.” Griff placed his now-empty beer glass on the table and leaned his arms on the back of the turned-around chair he sat on. The change in posture brought his face mere inches from hers. His bald question was softly uttered, deceptively simple. “Do you want me?”
Erica found her mouth flapping open and shut uselessly for several wild thumps of her heart. “I can’t believe you,” she spluttered. “You’re the bluntest person I’ve ever met.”
“I like to know where I stand.” He eyed her steadily for a tension-filled moment. “Are you going to answer?”
“What do you expect me to say?”
“That your nipples are so hard you have to keep crossing your arms to hide them. That you’re so wet you can’t stop squirming in your seat.” The fact he’d noticed her discomfort made the heat in her body rise another few degrees. “Is that all for Corey? Or is there something in it for me?”
Erica glanced toward the bar to see Corey still waiting for the drinks. As though sensing her scrutiny, he turned and met her gaze. His smile was hot with promise, making Erica throb with awareness. Her mind raced with possibilities that Griff made more vivid with his rumbling words. “What do you think? Reckon he’ll be willing to share you?”
“You know him best.” Was that her voice sounding like Marilyn Munroe’s? Was this her, staid, responsible Erica Shannon letting this virtual stranger know her deepest sexual desires? “You tell me.”
“I’m not sure I know how it would sit with Corey.” His soft admission told Erica Griff was rarely unsure of Corey. “Because I see the way he’s looking at you, Red.”
“How’s that?”
“Like he wants to marry you a week from Sunday.”
A chill raced through her, dampening some of her ardor. Long-term was not an option for her—now or possibly ever. “That’s not going to happen. I can’t have a relationship. But I want…I want…” Damn my proper upbringing anyway. Why can’t I just say it?
“You want my hands on you.” It was a statement, not a question, one that had Erica’s insides puddling to mush while her every erogenous zone went on red alert. “Corey’s hands too. You want us both kissing you,
touching you, making you come. You want us both loving you with everything we’ve got. Right?”
He’d outlined exactly what her body had craved for months, the sinful things she’d never really thought she’d have the temerity to admit she longed for. Here he was, offering them to her on a silver platter. Erica badly wanted to accept. More than anything else tonight, she wanted to feel, all the things she’d denied herself out of fear and modesty and her own reticence.
At length, Erica gave a wordless nod, the show of acquiescence making her skin prickle in anticipation. She was actually going to do this. Making the decision felt not unlike leaping off a cliff.
Griff closed his eyes briefly, as if he’d been hanging on her answer. When he opened them again there was devilish intent in their golden irises. “I can make it happen.”
“Make what happen?”
Erica started guiltily when Corey reappeared, then chastised herself. She had nothing to feel guilty about. Corey was not her boyfriend, no matter how strangely familiar he might already seem to her. No matter how surprisingly human he was when she’d expected more arrogance from a man who looked like he did. She was a free woman and had every right to do as she pleased with Griff or any other man here.
“Give Erica a ride home,” Griff replied. “You can both fit in with me.”
“My car’s in the shop,” Corey explained ruefully. “It’s kind of a rust bucket.”
“Kind of?” Griff mocked.
“Griff was going to give me a lift.” Corey ignored his friend’s razzing. “Do you want to come with us?”
Did she want to come with them? She wanted to in every way that word could be interpreted.
Erica had taken the train straight here from work. If she hadn’t, she would have been perfectly willing to lie about it and leave her car here overnight for the convenience of the local car thieves. “Yes,” she said when she at last found her voice. “I’d like that.”
I can make it happen, Griff had said. And he just had.
It was an awkward fit in the front of Griff’s car, but as the Ute didn’t have a backseat there wasn’t much choice. Not that Corey minded. Once Erica was buckled into the middle space and he was wedged in beside her, he saw the benefits of having her so close. Her hair smelled like a spring garden and warmth emanated from her skin. Corey angled his body to the side to give her as much space as possible, and the soft curve of her shoulder pressed lightly into his chest.
Yep, there were definite advantages on his side.
Erica gave Griff her address and he pulled the vehicle out of the car park, having to reach between Erica’s legs for the gearstick. Corey noticed the way Erica stiffened, and winced inwardly. She must think him the classiest guy ever for cramming her in the front seat of a car like a slice of cheese in a club sandwich.
“Erica?” Corey asked after they’d gone a few blocks and the tension in Erica’s body didn’t ease. “Are you comfortable?”
She turned toward him and smiled. Corey recognized irony in the gesture. “Not really.”
“Would you rather sit on my lap?”
She made a tiny whimpering sound. Her face darkened in the dim light emanating from the dashboard instruments. “Do you make that offer to all the girls?”
“No.” He’d sent Madison away, hadn’t he? And thank God he had, or he wouldn’t be here with Erica. “I’ve been waiting for you.”
Erica quirked her brow in disbelief, apparently assuming, as most people did, that he never had to wait for any girl. Corey thought of telling her he hadn’t been with as many women as she seemed to think, that he wasn’t nearly as smooth as he wanted to be. A lot of the time his emotions ran away with him, so he wasn’t good at no-strings, casual sex. That was Griff’s department. Corey didn’t see the point of screwing some random woman whose name he could barely remember. Experiences like that left him cold.
Afraid Erica wouldn’t believe him, he simply tried to be as honest as he could without getting into all that. “Erica, I really like being with you. I’ve seen you come into the Sovereign before and I wanted to meet you every time. I wish I’d done it sooner.”
“You wanted to speak to me?” Her surprise was obvious. “Why didn’t you?”
Corey shrugged. Across the car, Griff coughed into his hand meaningfully.
Erica glanced at Griff. “Pardon me?”
“You’re not exactly the most approachable woman in the world,” Griff said baldly. “You have a ‘don’t touch’ look going on.”
“Jeez, Griff.” Corey groaned.
When Erica spoke her voice bordered on icy. “I see.”
“There it is.” Griff glanced toward her before returning his attention to the road. “The look.”
“Erica.” Corey tried for a soothing tone. “I think you’re a stunner.”
“But you also think I’m frigid, is that it?”
Corey could have sworn there was a smirk in Griff’s voice. “I never said that.”
“You’re just a bit…daunting.” Her eyes narrowed, and Corey hurried to fix the damage. “I mean to me. A bit. Because you seem really smart, and probably date doctors or lawyers, blokes with degrees, instead of guys like me.”
Guys who barely finished high school and had to take the aptitude test twice before they’d let him become a fiery. Corey figured his verbal fumbling was only highlighting the notion he wasn’t as intelligent as her or the men she was probably used to hanging out with. His heart felt heavy as he finished. “I thought you might tell me to take a walk.”
Her anger seethed in the silence for a few moments during which Corey was certain he’d blown it completely. Why did Griff have to open his big mouth?
Then abruptly, Erica spoke, her words coming out in a staccato rhythm. “The last man I dated was a history professor. His name was Doug. We dated for over two years. We had plenty to talk about, but he was hardly interested in touching me. I want someone who’s interested in touching me.”
Corey was so stunned by the idea that Erica’s ex-boyfriend hadn’t been all over her every minute of every day that he didn’t speak for a moment. Into the silence, Griff’s laugh danced. His voice was warm and raspy. “I think you can stop looking, Red.”
Corey watched in astonishment as Griff reached up and smoothed a hand over Erica’s hair. It was a gesture filled with surprising affection, with tacit apology for his frankness. It was also a liberty taken that Corey was amazed Erica allowed. But she didn’t upbraid Griff or wrench away. Instead she closed her eyes on a sigh, as though his touch contented her, made her…
No way. No way is Griff turning her on.
Corey curled a hand around Erica’s nape. Her skin was supple and soft, the dark discs of her eyes like pools of melted chocolate. Shallow breaths puffed out of her, as though she was excited.
Because of Griff or him?
“Erica.” Corey hardly recognized the steely determination in his voice. “I want to touch you.”
The simple declaration didn’t cover it, not when every muscle in his body strained from the effort of not mauling her where she sat. Corey fought to moderate his actions as he pulled her to him, covering her mouth with his. He had often imagined kissing Erica. In those dreams he’d always seduced her slowly, with patience and skill, turning her into putty and making her plead for more.
As much as he wanted to live up to those intentions, reality wasn’t like that. Whatever finesse he possessed was obliterated by the plush invitation of her open lips, by the intoxicating mix of wine and sweet soda on her tongue. Her kiss drugged him, made him thirst for too much, too fast. He fed on her, devoured her.
She responded with enthusiasm, allowing him to take what he needed. Her keen little moans, the way she grabbed his shirt in frantic fistfuls as though she wanted to rip it off, lit a fire inside Corey. He’d been kissed with gusto before, but never quite like this. It was as though the first touch of his lips had released her from some unseen bondage, ties that kept her deep within herself. Once they go
t started it seemed like Erica drove the kiss, but it wasn’t about her taking control. It was about her losing it.
It made Corey think she needed protecting. She was different from most other women he met. Erica was shy and soft and sweet, with a passionate center that electrified his senses. Their lips and their bodies fit together like a hand fit a glove. He would take care of her, give her whatever she needed.
Erica would be his. All his.
Her grip on his T-shirt tightened. She dragged the material upward and touched a hand to the bared skin of his torso. Corey’s abs, along with everything else in the vicinity, went as hard as forged iron. “Erica.” He wrenched his mouth away from hers and tried to catch his breath. “Slow down.”
“Why?”
Right, Wachawski. Why? When she moved her touch downward and her fingers brushed his full-blown erection, Corey remembered. He winced and grabbed her wrist to keep her from exploring further. Aware that Griff was so close, Corey lowered his voice to a whisper. “I might come in my pants if you touch me there.”
Erica flagrantly disobeyed him, settling her hand over his fly. Corey closed his eyes on a groan. It was as if her fingers were made to curl around him. He wondered how well they’d fit together everywhere else. Intuitively, he knew. Perfectly.
“Touch me, Corey.”
Corey could have kicked himself for making her ask it in that heartrending voice. He was holding back to keep from making a fool of himself, not because he didn’t want to put his hands all over her. How could she not know that?
Stupid professor dude.
He dipped his head and kissed her again, until she melted against him. Then he gently cupped a breast in his hand and squeezed. She was full and round, a bounty of soft womanly flesh. Through the filmy blouse she wore, her nipple thrust against his palm.
Corey rubbed his hand back and forth until her breath caught. “Is that how you want to be touched?”
“Yes, please.”
Erica’s hand flexed, lightly squeezing his cock. Corey couldn’t prevent his hips from rocking into her grip. The thick denim was the only thing saving him from losing it completely. That’d be great, unloading prematurely while Griff was driving them home. Corey would never hear the end of it.
