by Cindi Myers
He sucked and nipped at her breasts until she was frantic with need, then moved lower, kissing his way down the swell of her stomach, over her hips and thighs, savoring the smell and feel and taste of her.
Then he paused, catching his breath, fighting for control. He wasn’t ready to satisfy her yet. He rested his head on her stomach and smoothed his hand down her thighs, marveling at her beauty, thinking again how much he would like to draw her.
When he resumed his attentions, he moved slowly, using fingers and tongue with all the skill he could manage, coaxing her to the brink, drawing out the pleasure until they were both trembling with need.
She came with a keening cry, wave after wave of tremors rocking them both. He held her until she was calm, then quickly sheathed himself and plunged into her, surrendering to the exquisite sensation of her surrounding him. She wrapped her arms and legs around him as he rode her, meeting him thrust for thrust, their bodies pounding together, his climax an intense collision in a series of collisions, an explosion of light and sound and feeling.
LYING IN HER ARMS MUCH later, Zach thought this must be what it was like to return to a place you knew was home—this warmth and comfort and the sensation that everything fit just right.
But reality crept back to remind him that this sensation was just an illusion. He’d never had a home like that, and she’d never known anything different. Even in Chicago, she’d find a place where she belonged, with other people like her who understood privilege and ambition in a way he never could.
He eased his arm from beneath her and sat up. “What are you doing?” she mumbled, her voice thick with sleep.
“I have to go.” He retrieved his jeans from the floor.
“You said you’d stay all night.”
“I guess I lied.” He stood and fastened the jeans, then reached for his shirt.
She didn’t say anything, so he thought she’d fallen back to sleep. He tugged on his socks and shoved his feet into his boots.
“You’re being stupid,” she mumbled, her eyes still closed. Maybe she thought she was dreaming.
He didn’t answer. Maybe he was being stupid, but he couldn’t stay here a minute longer. It was too easy to forget himself around her. To wish for things that could never be.
He leaned over and gave her a quick peck on the cheek. “Thanks for everything,” he whispered.
Once he was sure she was sleeping again, he slipped out of the room. He started toward the door, then turned back, unwilling to leave the door unlocked behind him. He found the key and used it to lock up, then slipped it into his pocket. He’d find a way to get it back to her as soon as he could.
He walked down to the street. It was a long walk to his place, and the chances of finding a cab at this hour were slim. But the exercise would give him time to think how he could break this hold Jen had on him.
Maybe Theresa was right. Maybe he was a coward for wanting to break things off before he fell in any deeper. But better a coward than a fool.
9
DESPITE JEN’S INTENTION to embrace her inner bad girl, certain good-girl habits were too ingrained for her to let go of easily. Years of lectures from her parents had taught her that “proper” young ladies do not call men. The men were supposed to do the calling.
Three days of waiting by her silent phone showed her the folly of that old rule. Zach wasn’t going to call. No matter how wonderful or special the sex between them had been, he wasn’t going to come after her. Bad boys didn’t pursue women they wanted; they waited for the women to come to them.
With a sigh, she picked up the phone and dialed the number of the shop. “Austin Body Art.”
“Hey, Zach, it’s Jen.”
A pause the length of her heartbeat. “Oh, hi, Jen. What do you need?”
For you to not play it so cool with me. But he was all about “cool,” wasn’t he? If she wanted more, she was going to have to coax it out of him. “I thought we might get together tonight.” The words—and the fact that she’d worked up the nerve to say them—sent a rush of anticipation through her.
“I don’t know.” She heard the ding of the cash register drawer as it closed. Zach muttered, “Thanks,” then he was back with her. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”
She managed to talk around the knot in her throat, faking unconcern. “Why? Do you have other plans?”
Another pause. “No,” he finally said. “But I figured you’ve made your point by now.”
She felt queasy. “My point?”
“You got involved with a bad dude, showed your old man you were your own person, moved into your own place. There’s nothing to stop you from going to Chicago now.”
“Is that why you left in such a hurry the other night, after the fireworks?”
“We agreed from the start that whatever was between us was only physical…temporary.”
Temporary and purely physical. She hadn’t forgotten, though it had been more than that for her since their first night together. “I don’t have to leave for Chicago for several more weeks yet.”
“So your old man agreed to let you go with his blessing?”
“I haven’t discussed it with him.”
“Then maybe you do still need him to think we’re together.”
Was he deliberately trying to aggravate her? Or maybe he was trying to get rid of her. “So you’re telling me you don’t want to see me again? That the other night wasn’t incredible? That you’ve had enough?”
Another long pause. She pictured him doodling in his ever-present sketchbook. “I didn’t say that,” he finally said, his voice softer. “I’m just saying you got what you wanted. I’m giving you an out.”
“Who said I want out? I’m not seeing you to show my dad anything. I’m seeing you because it’s what I want to do.” She pressed the phone tighter against her ear and lowered her voice. “Making love with you has been one of the most incredible experiences of my life. I’m not ready to give that up just yet.” She smiled. “I think you have a few more things you could teach me. And maybe I have a few things to show you.”
He cleared his throat. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Aren’t you curious?” she teased. “After all, you haven’t seen me dance.”
“No, I haven’t.”
“I thought maybe tonight I’d show you a very special dance.” The idea had just popped into her head. She couldn’t believe her own brilliance. She’d show Zach there was more to her than a spoiled deb who wanted her own way. She’d prove to him she had real talent. And maybe turn up the heat between them another notch in the process….
“I’ve never been much for dancing,” he said. But there was no force behind the words. She knew he was wavering.
“Oh, I promise, this won’t be like any dance you’ve seen before.” Not that she had any idea what dance she’d perform, but she was sure she could think of something. “Please, Zach.”
He was silent so long she thought they’d lost their connection, then his voice came over the line again. “All right. Where and when should we meet?”
“Come to my place about six.”
“See you then.”
When she hung up the phone, she sat staring at the apartment. She was still working on making it her own. Setting out some more photographs had helped. She’d also purchased several yards of multicolored chiffon for window treatments, but hadn’t had time to do anything with the fabric yet.
As if Zach cared about curtains. You’d better get busy coming up with a dance that will knock his socks off, she told herself.
SCOTT HAD THE NIGHT OFF from tending bar and he’d agreed to work late so that Zach could get to Jen’s apartment building by six. Zach wanted to avoid running into Theresa if at all possible. Not that he cared if his sister knew he was visiting Jen, but he didn’t want to deal with the questions she’d be sure to ask later. Hell, he couldn’t even explain his actions to himself, much less talk about this craziness with his sister.
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nbsp; He parked the bike and made his way up to the sixth floor, moving slowly, his steps heavy. Being here was a bad idea. No matter how much chemistry they had in the bedroom, he and Jen didn’t belong together. The two weeks he’d known her was plenty of time to prove that. Their lives were so far apart they might as well be from different planets. He was like some biker dude trying to crash a debutante ball. Sooner or later, he was going to get busted and thrown out on his ass.
Yet even though he knew all this, the minute he was with Jen he forgot all his vows to keep his distance from her. She messed with his head in a way no one ever had. It drove him crazy, but he couldn’t build up any resistance to her.
At last, he stopped in front of her door. No going back now. He took a deep breath and knocked.
She answered right away. “Hello, Zach. Come in.” She was wearing some kind of harem costume—all this filmy, multicolored fabric swirling around her.
“Would you like a drink?” she asked, gliding past him, the fabric of her costume floating around her.
“I thought you didn’t drink.”
“I don’t. But I did get some beer for you, and I have soda and iced tea.”
“Iced tea is fine.” He wanted to keep his wits about him tonight.
“Why don’t you take off your jacket, get comfortable.”
He shucked the jacket and draped it over the back of a chair, and she brought him his drink. “What are you supposed to be, anyway?” he asked.
“Salome.” She twirled, her costume swirling around her. “She did the Dance of the Seven Veils.”
He sipped his iced tea and studied the costume over the top of his glass. “That looks like more than seven.”
“It’s an illusion. In the stage production, the dancer wore a flesh-colored leotard beneath the veils.”
Was she wearing a leotard? Probably. Then again, she’d already proved more daring than he’d ever expected.
She walked over to a stereo that was on the floor, against the wall, and punched the on button. Music filled the room: Middle Eastern flutes, horns and a steady drumbeat. He settled back to watch.
She started out with a slow swaying. His gaze was drawn to her hips, to their seductive swinging back and forth. She began to dance faster, her feet moving quickly, gracefully, as she whirled around. She reminded him of belly dancers he’d seen in clubs, only more delicate and refined.
The first veil dropped, revealing a swath of her stomach. That one expanse of naked flesh amidst the gauzy veils drew him. He remembered how soft she’d been there.
He shifted position, trying to get comfortable. He gripped the iced tea harder, then set it aside.
Her lips curved in a knowing smile and she danced closer, bending to wrap the second veil around his shoulders. He caught a tantalizing glimpse of the tops of her breasts, the calla lily tattoo stark against the whiteness of her skin.
The tempo of the music slowed again. She arched back, until the top of her head almost touched the floor. Her hair trailed behind her, a wild tangle of gold.
She straightened and unwound the third veil. Her thighs appeared, supple and muscular. A series of high kicks teased him. He strained to see what lay beneath the tangled veils. He thought he caught a glimpse of golden curls. Or was that just his imagination, filling in what he wanted to see?
The fourth veil dropped, baring one arm. She wore a dozen thin, metal bracelets, which slid up and down with each movement, ringing softly together like chimes.
She undulated slowly from side to side, then back and forth, mimicking the way she had moved beneath him when he’d been inside her. Desire lanced through him, sharp and insistent.
She traced her tongue along her lips, her gaze focused on the fly of his pants. He knew the tight leather couldn’t hide the effect she was having on him. That had been her plan, hadn’t it? The question was, how far would she take it? What was under those last three veils?
The fifth veil dropped, baring her other arm. He could see the outline of her breasts beneath the gauze now, swaying slightly with each shimmy.
The drums beat faster and the horns moaned like someone in the throes of passion. Zach began to sweat.
She grasped the top of the sixth veil, her eyes alight with laughter, teasing him. She turned to dance with her back to him, and the veil dropped, revealing the smooth expanse of her naked back. The last veil clung to her hips, draped just below the indentation at the base of her spine.
“Turn around,” he said, his voice rough.
She did as he asked, arms out to her side, shoulders still, hips swaying. Her breasts jiggled slightly, the nipples erect. He curled his fingers against his palms, aching to touch her.
He wasn’t the only one turned on by this performance, that was evident. Desire had darkened her eyes until they were almost black, and she kept her lips parted, her breath coming in pants.
He leaned toward her, hands on his knees. “Take off the last veil,” he said.
She reached down and twitched loose the knot holding the last swatch of fabric in place. It slid down her hips, coasting over her thighs to puddle at her feet.
No flesh-colored leotard here. Only her own bare skin. She closed her eyes and continued dancing, with more abandon now, arms up, head back. She turned and swayed, hypnotizing him with her body, desire heating between them like lava rising in the mouth of a volcano.
The song ended on a sudden crash of symbols. She froze, arms over her head, hips cocked to one side, feet together. In the sudden stillness, he stared at her, fighting the urge to sweep down on her and take her right there. He wanted to move more slowly, to see what else she had in mind.
The air conditioner kicked on, and her nipples pebbled and goose bumps rose along her arms. Still she remained frozen, one eye fixed on him amid the tangle of hair that had fallen across her face.
That look propelled him to action. He grabbed an afghan off the end of the sofa and swept it around her, pulling her close. “You ought to turn the AC up if you’re going to parade around naked,” he said.
“I’ll have to remember that next time.” She was breathing hard, though whether from exertion or excitement, he didn’t know. “What did you think of my dance?”
“I’ve never seen anything like it before.” He turned her to face him and traced his finger along her chin. “If I had, I might have developed a whole new appreciation for dance.”
He kissed her, unwilling to hold back any longer. She slid her arms around his neck, the afghan falling to the floor. Her body was hot and supple, shaping to him. “I must say, I’ve never been so inspired by my audience.” She shimmied against him, stealing his breath.
He gently peeled her from him, buying time to regain some semblance of control. “Let’s go into the bedroom.”
She took his hand and led the way. When she opened the door, he smelled peaches. She pulled him into a room bathed in the candlelight of a dozen fat pillar candles. Their light tinted everything soft gold. She turned and hooked a finger in the waistband of his pants and drew him to her. “I’m starting to feel a little out of place, being the only one naked.”
“I never knew you were so fond of nudity.” He unfastened his belt and unbuttoned his fly.
“I never was before I met you.” Pushing his hands out of the way, she grasped the tab of his zipper and eased it down over his rigid erection. Her eyes widened appreciatively and she reached out to stroke him, but he pushed her hands away.
“Lie down on the bed,” he said.
She hesitated, then did as he asked, backing to the bed and stretching out on it. Aware of her gaze fixed on him, he began to undress, forcing himself not to hurry, though every nerve cried out for him to rip off his clothes and leap into bed beside her.
He kicked off his boots and pulled the T-shirt off over his head, then paused to look at her again. “Don’t stop,” she whispered. She slid her hand down her belly until the tips of her fingers brushed the curls over her mons.
He forgot to breathe for
a moment as her hand eased lower still, then he let out his breath in a rush. He shoved his pants down over his hips, dragging his underwear with them. When he was naked, he came to stand beside the bed.
She rose up on both elbows, so that his erection was at eye level. Cheeks flushed, she swallowed hard. “There’s something I’ve always wanted to do,” she said, then before he could stop her, she took him in her mouth.
He groaned as her tongue wrapped around him, stroking and caressing, her lips creating a gentle suction. She was velvet soft and dangerously thorough, bringing him to the edge within seconds.
With a grunt, he pushed her away and onto her back as he climbed onto the bed, beside her. He lay still for a moment, holding her slightly away from him, collecting himself. “Did I hurt you?” she asked in a small voice.
He opened his eyes and turned his head to look at her. Here was the Jen he knew, the good girl peeking out from the bad-girl mask. “No, you didn’t hurt me,” he said, rolling onto his side and cupping his hand to her breast. “In fact, I’d say you have a natural talent.” He brushed his thumb over her nipple and smiled at the glazed look that came into her eyes. “But you don’t want things to be over with before we’ve gotten started, do you?”
Her only answer was a soft moan as he leaned over and took her nipple in his mouth.
Jen loved that Zach was so ready to lavish attention on her body. She’d spent too many years taking her physical self for granted, seeing it only as a tool, something to be worked and trained in the discipline of dance. But Zach made her see her body as something more—a gift that provided amazing sensations at his hands.
Her breasts were wonderfully sensitive to the stroking and sucking of his mouth and tongue. But tonight he added more. He rolled her onto her side and slid his hands around to massage her buttocks. His fingers smoothing and kneading her bottom sent little shock waves along her nerve endings. The tension within her built with each caress. “Oh, Zach!” she arched against him, greedy for more.
