Charlie glanced out the second story window at the quiet neighborhood and the parking lot that was filling up quickly as people arrived home from their jobs, some of them with long commutes. The sun was casting its last purplish-orange light as it set like a stately queen retiring to her bedchamber. Far away he heard the roar of a motorcycle but ignored the sound, which probably came from the nearby freeway. His eye caught the distant sparkle of water—the Pacific Ocean. Although he lived in Boston’s Back Bay neighborhood, he didn’t have such a good view of the ocean. He paused to admire the beauty. Behind the condo, several miles away, the forest reared up into the mountains. He heaved in a deep breath of air, inhaling the barely discernible scent of roses on someone’s patio. Birds trilled their night song and crickets chirped in the arroyo below the condos.
The sound of the motorcycle was getting louder. He gritted his teeth, unwilling for the silence to be broken by such a harsh noise. How he hated the disturbance, which reminded him of his youth and his inability to fight against the violent gangs that had terrorized his neighborhood. Charlie had sought justice for their crimes since becoming a lawyer. He’d owed his mother that much.
Now he saw the rider and the shiny black metal hurtling down the two-lane street. Throwing on his jacket, he hurried down the stairs to the first floor with bated breath. The bike stopped outside, its engine idling. The almost angry blare of a horn assaulted his ears.
“What the hell?” he muttered, his heart jumping into his throat. Maybe the previous condo lessee had hung out with a biker and that person didn’t yet know he’d moved on.
Fully intending to give the motorcyclist a piece of his mind, Charlie threw open the door and strode out onto the sidewalk. The sun was low in his eyes and prevented him from seeing who was planted on the seat. Unafraid of confrontations, he kept marching down the walkway. The concrete felt hard and unaccommodating under his wingtips. In no uncertain terms, he’d urge the guy to quickly move on or he’d call the cops.
Still shading his eyes against the sun’s glare, he came level with the earsplitting racket. His mouth fell open in utter astonishment. The rider was the woman who’d stolen his parking space earlier that morning. Crap—somehow she’d found out where he lived.
He almost barked, “What do you want?” She lifted her visor and he saw her face. The dancing blue eyes and the pert nose with the glossy, parted lips. He forgot everything but that kissable mouth and imagined thrusting his tongue between the silky skin, tracing his knuckles down her cheek in a lazy line, unzipping her jacket and watching as her breasts spilled out and her nipples hardened right in front of his eyes. He’d take her, his cock sliding into her warm wetness as she wrapped her questing arms around his neck and begged for more.
The fantasy abruptly ended when she cleared her throat. How could he have lost his senses so quickly in her presence? A rose blush tinted her cheeks. She unbuckled the helmet’s strap, lifted the whole thing from her head and shook out her hair, which flew gently in silky tendrils before they landed on her leather-clad shoulders. The black accentuated her blonde hair and Charlie thought about dark satin sheets and her limbs spread out awaiting his touch. Once more he shook himself. What was it about Roxie that turned his hormones on big-time?
He barely caught the helmet she threw in his direction. Still, it landed against his chest with a thud.
“You sure you don’t want to change into something more comfortable?” she asked in the lilting, musical voice with which he had become so familiar. She gave him a playful, full-toothed smile.
He didn’t immediately answer. He should have known. Biker chicks weren’t his type. His record for striking out grew by one.
“I am comfortable,” he managed, pulling himself together. He hadn’t expected Roxie to show up in a biker’s outfit. She’d seemed more genteel than that. His mind kept searching for the missing piece of the puzzle. What was wrong with his picture of the beautiful Roxie on a fiendish motorcycle? Somehow the two didn’t add up.
She leaned forward on the bike. “You look uptight, Charlie.” She unzipped her jacket the tiniest fraction of an inch. “Do you think this is a bad idea?”
Charlie began panting and held onto the helmet with a death grip. The woman was torturing him out of his mind. His trousers were far too tight in the crotch area and getting less accommodating by the second. Couldn’t he get his mind off sex and onto her? He exhaled deeply. It’s the same thing, he told himself with a hint of sarcasm.
He’d never been on a bike before. Could he manage to get on without showing trepidation?
Helplessly, he watched as Roxie kicked the bike’s stand on, settled her helmet on the seat and turned to him.
She’s an angel with the setting sun glowing all around her like a halo of living fire. An angel in black. An angel determined to take me to the ends of the earth with her.
Striding up to him, she grasped his helmet and gently clamped it onto his head without fastening the strap. The heady fragrance of gardenias surrounded him. He realized she could do anything she wanted to him and he was helpless against her, although he was certain she meant no harm. She just didn’t have it in her.
“Now this.” She unknotted his tie with deft fingers.
How many other men has she touched like this? he wondered, and jealousy stabbed him in the heart with its pitchfork. They’d been lucky, and he was about to join their ranks—if he didn’t balk.
Roxie stuffed the tie in his breast pocket. She leaned farther forward, and whispered loudly, “You look really tense. Relax. I haven’t killed anyone.” With a chirpy smile, she added, “Yet.”
“That’s what worries me,” Charlie croaked. Get a grip on yourself. She’ll think you’re a dunce and even before you get it on, she’ll ditch you.
“I want to do you, Charlie,” she continued, lifting her lips to his.
He’d practiced keeping his hands off her all day, but now he couldn’t resist. If she was offering her mouth up to him, what man could resist the lure of sexy temptation?
Every nerve in Roxie’s body trembled as she faced Charlie. The sun had set and dusk encircled them with its grayness, but she could easily see his pupils dilate, and the column of his throat moved up and down with a hard swallow. Leaning closer, she reached tentative fingers to the crotch of his trousers. Her fingertips met exquisite silk. He had quite an erection. She wanted more of him…but then she came to herself. They were in a semi-public place. His neighbors could be watching.
He stepped forward, lowered his head and brushed his lips against hers with a featherlight touch. His muted groan sank into her mind with such impact that she probably would have heard him a mile away. The caress of his mouth was a promise of things to come.
“Charlie?” she whispered, loudly enough that he could hear her above the idling bike. “Come with me. I promise you won’t regret it.”
He shivered under her fingertips, which melted into his shoulder through the heated jacket. “I’ve never sat behind a woman driver on a bike before.”
She laughed softly at his endearing remark. “I’m a perfectly safe driver,” she said, willing herself to step away from him, to break that sexual tension simmering between them…but only until they got up into the mountains. Then the wildcat in her would come out to play and satisfy him.
“I know.”
His gaze fastened on her and she felt that he was having the same trouble she was, trying to break the physical connection. Her panties were drenched, and if she wound her arms around his neck she wouldn’t let go until he’d satisfied her craving for every muscled plane of his body.
“Roxie, I can’t wait much longer. I’ve thought about nothing else but you since this morning.” His voice was seductively low.
Should she ask whether he’d hungered after her the first or the second time? He had to suspect she had been the one in his parking spot? Why bother with questions that might kill the sexual atmosphere they’d created and the electrical tension that insistently hummed
between them? She nodded in agreement.
Though the fact that they’d end up in his condo, in the apparent luxury and wealth within its walls, was one feeling she could have done without.
That single nod was enough for Charlie. Taking her by the elbow as if she’d try to make a hasty escape, as a butterfly might, he turned off the bike’s ignition and pulled out the key. Absolute silence reigned and his ears rang.
As was his habit, he was taking charge. He wouldn’t allow Roxie to dictate to him, although he wondered where she would have taken him if he hadn’t been in such a hurry to take care of their wild needs. He dislodged his helmet from his head and set it on the seat along with hers. If he picked her up in his arms and carried his prize across the threshold, would Roxie complain? He suspected she would and refrained from the euphoric action.
Out of habit, he quickly scanned the condos and the countryside before, still cupping her elbow, he ushered her inside. Her mouth didn’t drop open in astonishment as he’d expected, which caused him to wonder again. Who was Roxie really, and where did she come from?
As soon as they were inside and the door was locked, which Charlie made a great point of remembering, she pushed him back against the cool wall, crushing him between it and her soft body. Even through the solid leather he felt her quiver, and he could have sworn her nipples were hard against his chest.
“I want you,” she said, slipping the jacket from his shoulders. He helped her shrug from the sleeves and although normally he’d have folded it and set it on the back of a chair, this time he didn’t care. All his thoughts and every part of him were fully focused on Roxie, his angel of salvation. Her fingers nimbly unfastened the buttons of his shirt, then she pressed her lips against his as she caressed his bare chest with her warm palms. His erection strained for release, and when she reached his belt buckle and freed him, he moaned with relief.
“I wanted you from the moment I first saw you,” she said, her voice laden with silken huskiness.
Charlie stretched his hand out toward the zipper of her leather jacket but she pushed him away.
“Later, you’ll get your turn. For now, you’re all mine. Every single inch of you.”
He thrilled at the notion that forceful, gorgeous Roxie was once again in charge. “You know, normally I’m the one who takes care of my woman.”
She paused as she unzipped his trousers. It was as if a light switch had been turned off. Roxie moistened first her lower lip, then her upper. Her eyes were wild and frightened.
Uh-oh. He’d said words she didn’t want to hear. Most women were excited by a wealthy man calling the shots and by being called “my” woman, but not Roxie.
Her exasperated gaze raked his face and pinned his eyes. “Charles Vernon, I’m only ‘your’ woman for the night. You’d best leave it at that.”
Which is another confirmation that she’s hiding something. Your will be done, as long as you hurry, Roxie, whoever you really might be. In other words, I shouldn’t expect more than what I’m getting. You’ve clearly stated this is a short-term relationship, one night only. I can understand that. A woman who is on the run or covering something up, doesn’t want anyone or anything to hold her down.
Roxie witnessed the recognition of the boundaries she’d set on Charlie’s face and, satisfied that he understood where they were, she lifted her face to his and kissed him. If he had been unyielding she’d have left right away, but he returned the prelude to sex in a practiced manner, just the way she liked her men to be.
Of all the silly choices, why did she have to meddle with Charlie Vernon? Didn’t he have a variety of sources to help him at his fingertips? Couldn’t she have been attracted to someone else? Why did it have to be a prominent lawyer who was wealthy and reminded her of the luxurious lifestyle she’d left behind?
Her tongue laved each of his lips. He tasted fresh, with a hint of lemon. The fire in her veins roared over her as he opened for her. His hot breath mingled with hers, and suddenly she was tugging at the remainder of his clothes with a determined vengeance. Charlie pushed away from the wall and circled his arms around her waist, drawing her lower body to his to trap her fingers between the flat of her stomach and his erect penis.
Their tongues mated, tasted, explored. Charlie’s hands travelled up Roxie’s relaxed spine, along the soft leather and into her lustrous hair. He loved the scent, the wildness yet the tameness of her. Her secretiveness added a forbidden spice to her, to that kiss, and he indulged himself, careful not to pull on her tresses. She was giving herself to him, and for now there was nothing else that mattered. Here, in his house, Rowter wouldn’t be able to get to her. He’d have to get through Charlie first.
Inwardly, Roxie sighed with enjoyment. This kiss was the most spectacular ever, she decided, extricating her fingers from between their bodies. Too bad she wouldn’t be able to hold on to him. He was quite the catch—for a society girl, which she’d ceased to be the moment she’d fled from her father’s bodyguards. Precious freedom meant more to her than anything, and to make love to Charlie brought forth the exhilaration of being free from prying eyes.
She cupped Charlie’s silk-clad buttocks in her palms, lifting him higher against her belly. He heaved a deep groan into her mouth. Their hot breath mingled, sending a ripple of pleasure down into her yearning center. Her breasts ached with an unaccustomed ferocity that left her puzzled. What was Charlie doing to her that no man had done before? A simple caress left her breathless, panting for more. This once, she’d satisfy herself as she’d yearned to since her days of freedom had begun.
His fingers disentangled from her hair and he drew away. “I want you. Do you want me?”
Roxie felt certain he was asking, as a gentleman would, to ensure he wasn’t confusing her signals. She snorted, an affectation she’d learned from Eileen. “I crossed four lanes of heavy traffic and almost got killed in the process—do you really think it was because I thought you needed a cold drink?”
Charlie grunted but kept his hungry eyes focused on her face. Under his scrutiny she felt a feminine thrill ride through her.
“I didn’t think my comfort was preying on your mind.” He smiled good-naturedly. “More like you were hot for me.” A darting glance at her breasts, and he added, “Like I was for you, Roxie. Can I take you upstairs?”
She laughed flirtatiously. “Charles Vernon, I thought you’d never ask.”
He swept her into his arms and against his massive chest as if she were a rag doll and ran up the stairs from the foyer into a corridor with many closed doors. After that, Roxie closed her eyes. She’d vowed so many times since she’d escaped her prison that she wouldn’t become angry when she saw crystal chandeliers, ornate wood mouldings and expensive furniture. She’d concentrate on Charlie. Once their lovemaking was done, she’d slip away into the night. Repressing a chuckle, she amended, As quietly as a woman can on a loud motorcycle.
If Charlie had hopped on behind her, she’d have driven into the mountains, made love to him on the blanket she’d brought, but she hadn’t counted on the urgency of fulfilling her desire. Neither had she figured in that he’d be a stuffed shirt when it came to trying something new. She’d seen the quickly concealed horror in his eyes when she’d ridden up. She loved the excitement of owning her own bike, of revving up the engine and slipping in and out behind slow-moving vehicles on the freeway.
She felt him kick a door open with the toe of his shoe and abruptly took in the scent of clean sheets, delicate flowers and Charlie’s lingering, musky scent.
“You can open your eyes now,” he whispered tenderly.
She batted her eyes open to find the room in half-light with a bed stand lamp at low power providing the only illumination. He sank to the bed, depositing her as he would have a crystal vase that might shatter with any sudden, uncalculated movements.
Roxie sank into the mattress on top of the cotton sheets. She suspected the bed had been made up to perfection earlier.
“I love the color of
your eyes,” Charlie said, bending to brush each eyelid in turn with gossamer kisses. “As beautiful as a sparkling sapphire.” The rasp of her jacket’s zipper cleaved the ensuing silence in two.
Charlie was about to discover that she wore nothing underneath—only a pair of shell-pink, lace-edged panties. Earlier, as she showered, she’d planned to surprise him, and being bare was as good a way as any.
“You’re not so bad yourself,” she murmured, her heart beating erratically. The zipper was all the way down to her waist.
He unhooked it, and she saw him suck in a breath. His pupils dilated as his lips crooked in a smile. “You’re not wearing anything,” he whispered in awe.
Grinning, she swept the front of the leather apart and bared her breasts.
“Oh God,” was all she heard him say, then he leaned forward and said, “You can grab my ass any time,” and laved her erect nipple.
Roxie squirmed and did exactly as he’d suggested. She reached around him and clamped her palms to his ass cheeks, and squeezed for good measure.
“Easy there, honey,” came his garbled voice. “I can’t grow another.” He suckled her other nipple and trailed kisses to her navel.
It was her turn to moan as she stroked his backside. “Take your trousers off,” she muttered urgently, needing to feel his hard cock nestled against her thighs. Too late, she noted her use of the word “trousers”. Did working women use that name for a man’s pants?
“You were making good headway downstairs.” He chuckled, effortlessly hefted himself to his feet and shucked off his remaining clothes.
Full Throttle Yearning Page 5
