Sexy Ms. Takes

by Jo Leigh

  “Mmm.”Flynn rolled his eyes. It wasn’t bad enough he was torturing himself, she had to sound like that? Over a strawberry?

  “You’re right. The combination is wonderful.”

  “It’s something to do with the citric acid and the sweetness. Or so I’ve been told.”

  She took another sip of her drink, then another bite. Again, she moaned. He had to bite back a moan of his own. “Only an hour to go till midnight. I can take that ice pack off your ankle. Find a lower pillow. You really should get a good night’s sleep, so let’s make you comfortable.”

  Once off the bed, he felt a little better. Throwing back the covers to get to her ankle was infinitely worse. Touching her, just the barest brush with the back of his hand, threatened the last of his control.

  He removed the ice pack. Slipped his hand under her ankle while he took away the pillow. Holding her gently, he lowered her foot, rubbing the pad of his thumb across her warm skin.

  A surge of desire went right to his cock and he let her go, not even able to say a word as he took the ice pack straight to the kitchen. After shoving the damn thing into the freezer, he thought about climbing in after it. What the hell was going on here? This was worse than after Lisa Donald slipped him a hotel room key at the senior prom. He needed to get a grip and if that meant leaving Willow before midnight, so be it.

  On his way back to the guest room, he snagged a small pillow from the couch which should make it easier for her to sleep. Then he steeled himself to do what he must. With determination and will, he put her ankle in position, tucked the covers back in place, then went to his side of the bed. He sat, drank half a glass of champagne and settled himself in to watch the New Year’s Eve special from Times Square. All without looking directly at Willow.

  He stretched his neck, then worked at relaxing his breathing in an effort to stop thinking about her.

  Something brushed his wrist. Pure reflex made him look. Willow’s hand rested on the comforter almost but not quite touching him. When he looked up, she met his gaze with dilated eyes, parted lips and want.

  For a long moment, he didn’t move at all. So beautiful. So near.

  He reached out with one finger and stroked the side of her pinkie. It set him on fire.

  WILLOW TREMBLED as he moved closer. His hand moved from the bed to brush the side of her face as he leaned in to kiss her. He tasted like champagne, and if she had her way, all kisses would be exactly like his. Warm pressure, seeking tongue, just enough push and pull and she could hardly believe it was real.

  It was hard not to roll over, to touch more of his body as his fingers went to the back of her neck. But then he moved even closer until he held her tight and she was pressed against his chest. It was the safest she’d felt in a long, long time.When he pulled back just enough to kiss the edge of her lips, her cheek, her nose, she sighed with a contentment that stilled her mind and her doubts. Whatever the consequences, she’d deal.

  The way her body reacted to his touch was something new and electrifying. She moaned when his mouth went to her neck, as he licked her right there, and kissed her again. His elegant hand swept down her shoulder to her waist. He touched her breast with his fingertips.

  “This is crazy,” he whispered. “I’ve been so careful for so long.”

  “You’re not like him,” she said. “I wouldn’t want you if you were.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  She kissed his lips softly. “I have very good instincts.”

  He stared at her, his brow furrowed and his hand still. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe I’ve been so busy trying to not be like my father that I forgot to be me.”

  “And maybe I’m the universe’s way of helping you remember.”

  He kissed her, a long lovely kiss that would have made her toes curl if they could’ve.

  “I want you,” he whispered. “I want your nightgown off. I want to feel you.”

  She smiled, her lips so close to his. “Good. I want to feel you, too, but you’ll have to do all the work yourself.”

  He nodded, then pulled his shirt off. His jeans were trickier and he had to stand up, but that turned out to be nice. She liked that she could see him, see what she did to him.

  His amazing body did all kinds of wonderful things to her insides, which made her hate more than ever that she had to be so careful. Just seeing his bare chest, all rugged and ripped, made her squeeze the muscles she exercised in private. She’d been so used to seeing waxed bodies in her dance classes that he seemed exotic, even though his chest hair wasn’t out of control at all. Her gaze went lower, and it was her turn to swallow.

  After all the debates and reasons, he slipped under the covers as if it was the most natural thing in the world. She lifted her arms so he could take off her nightie, watching his eyes darken as he looked at her.

  “We can’t go nuts here,” he said, his voice lower and rougher. “Try to stay relaxed.”

  She kissed him and he pressed his body against hers. The feel of him had her pulling him closer, wanting more, wanting everything.

  His hands explored, lingering on her breasts, sliding down her side and her thigh, coming back to her bottom, where he slipped inside her panties and squeezed just hard enough.

  He pulled back, chasing his hands down her body, kissing and licking where he’d touched. Soon he was under the covers, teasing her gently as he went lower.

  He kissed her hip, then got busy removing her panties. He could have just taken them off. Instead he made them part of the dance.

  A lick here, a nibble there, a finger underneath. Each one closer to naughty, each one ratcheting up the tension in her belly as the TV continued to flicker.

  Her body needed to move. She wasn’t used to being so passive and it wasn’t enough to touch what she could of him. He was so low on the bed she couldn’t reach much. “Do you think my ankle would survive if we ditched the pillow and I scooted down?”

  His head bobbed up. “No,” he said in a firm yet muffled voice.

  “Such a mean doctor.”

  He growled, at least she thought it was a growl. Whatever it was it made her smile. So did watching him move under the covers.

  When he finally pulled her panties down her thighs, her eyes closed as she held her breath. He hurried at first, but new kisses slowed his path. One to the top of her thigh. One a little closer to center. Then it was just his hands and his gentleness moving her legs and carefully removing all that was left of her clothes.

  He surprised her with a kiss to her foot, one that lingered a bit, and she knew it was another apology. She wished he would come up again so she could show him how deeply she didn’t mind. How glad she was to be here, with him. How sometimes what looked like the worst thing could turn out amazingly well.

  But she decided to relax and enjoy it as he meandered up her body. Touching, licking, nipping. Treating her knee and the outside of her thigh as if they were just as sexy as an openmouthed kiss. Which made her wonder what would happen when he moved higher.

  “What are you doing to me?” she asked, not even knowing if he could hear her. She squirmed, her body lit from the inside as his hands skimmed her inner thighs. He spread her legs, careful not to jostle her ankle.

  She wanted to touch him. To stroke something, anything. Since she couldn’t reach him, she ended up settling for her own nipples, which were incredibly sensitive.

  He took his own sweet time teasing her to death. Clearly he wanted to drive her right out of her mind with his mouth. She decided she could live with that the moment his lips landed right above her clit.

  Hot breath on her wet flesh made her eyes roll and her mouth open. When his hardened tongue started exploring, she couldn’t resist. She threw the covers back, needing to see him. She’d been turned on, now she quivered with desire. Every cell of her body had gotten into the act. The most difficult part was keeping her ankles relaxed. At this point, she didn’t care. She’d heal.

  When his fingers joined his mouth,
she cried out and squeezed her nipples harder. While his tongue flicked her clit, he thrust into her. Inarticulate and needy, she squirmed and mewled, wanting some magic that would let him stay just like that and still somehow kiss her and touch her everywhere else. “More,” she whispered and “Yes.”

  The sneak replaced his tongue with fingers from his other hand and he started traveling again. Up her belly, stopping for a swirl or a nip, then up to her ribs, all the while rubbing her clit, thrusting into her. He stopped for a second, dead still. Probably just noticing that she was tweaking her nips, squeezing them between her fingernails.

  His hair tickled the underside of her breast and his tongue pushed her fingers away. As he sucked and flicked, his hand went back to driving her crazy as he rubbed her clit, fast.

  Finally, she could not only see him, but touch him. She grasped his shoulders, pulling him up, but he only moved faster, harder.

  His eyes opened and held her gaze. With hair as wild as her heartbeat, he looked like sex itself. His tongue flicked rapidly at the very tip of her nipple, right in time with his finger as he brought her closer and closer to coming.

  She touched him everywhere she could as she started gasping for breath, as her body went to the near edge of orgasm. Then it started. She fell past the point of no return and he didn’t stop, he just kept on doing his magic. Then he kissed her. She moaned into his mouth, cried out when she felt his cock against her leg, and she came so hard there were fireworks.

  MIDNIGHT WAS LONG GONE, and sleep very close. As tired as she was, Willow fought to stay awake, to keep feeling the peace of Flynn’s arms around her. Her head rested on his chest and she could feel each even breath. He petted her hair, gentle rhythmic tenderness.

  “You should sleep,” he whispered. “Let go.”She turned a bit and kissed him. “You’re as tired as I am.”

  He sighed. “I don’t want to stop.”

  She kissed his chest again. Smiled into his skin. “I’m going to be here when you wake up.”

  “I know.” His voice was deep, soft, slightly slurring with fatigue. “I’m sorry, but I’m glad. I’m glad that you’re going to be here and that I get to take care of you. That makes me a bastard, but I can’t help it.”

  “It doesn’t. I’m glad, too.”

  His hand stilled. “This is pretty nuts. This kind of thing doesn’t happen to me.”

  She nodded. “Me, neither.”

  He touched her chin, and she looked up. It was dark, but she could still see his eyes. “I like you,” he said, his voice steady with intent.

  “Oh.”

  “I wanted you to know that.”

  She pulled his hand to her lips and kissed his palm as a shiver ran all the way down her body. “I like you, too.”

  “So I was thinking,” he said. “My sister’s birthday is on the nineteenth. She’s having a party, something with a theme that I’m going to ignore. Maybe you’d like to come with me? If you’re not already booked.”

  She was booked in the Casa del Bradshaw, but then, he knew that. That he’d asked her was…wow. “Sure. I can do that.”

  “Then we’re good.”

  “Very.”

  “Okay, then.”

  She relaxed more deeply into the warmth of his arms, and let her fingers play gently over his skin. “It’s a brand-new year.”

  “How about that?” he whispered as he matched the rhythm of her petting.

  She liked his sleepy voice. What an intimate thing to know about a person. “Started off with a bang. Pun completely intended.”

  His chest vibrated a bit to go with his laugh. “I have some ideas about your physical therapy.”

  “Oh?”

  “You’ll need to keep in shape while your ankle heals. Pay attention to your core muscles. I can help with that. I figure we can do some water work together. I have a big tub upstairs. Full of jets and room for two.”

  “You going to carry me up the stairs?”

  “It’s only one floor.”

  She squeezed his arm. “So strong. And handsome. My hero.”

  His fingers trailed from her hair to her cheek, where he stilled. “Why do I have the feeling you’re the one who’s saving me?”

  Willow’s breath caught for a moment. Then she kissed his chest once more before sleep came to steal her away. She didn’t know what would happen, but she did know she wouldn’t have to face the future alone. That he’d be there to help her. That he’d be there.

  She really was the luckiest person ever.

  Ms. Sing

  1

  “TAXI!”

  Maggie Trent waved down the Yellow Cab as she avoided the slush at the curb. At least it wasn’t snowing at the moment. She climbed in the backseat, put her big bag next to her and gave the address to the driver.Just saying the street made her shiver with anticipation and excitement. She was on her way to the audition of her life. One that, if she got the part, would change everything. She squeezed her hands together before she took off her gloves. It was cold in the cab, but she’d need her fingers to get her fare from her purse.

  She shouldn’t be this excited, not if she didn’t want to jinx things. The chances in general of getting a callback, let alone a part, were incredibly slim. Especially in a musical with this pedigree. Every singer, actor and dancer in New York would be dying for a role. But she had an ace in the hole. At least she hoped so. She knew the librettist. Well. And she’d worked with him on the play. Her practical experience might have been limited to off-off Broadway and college productions, but Randy liked her for the part. No guarantees, he’d said, and she knew he wasn’t joking, but still. He liked her for the part.

  With her job, it hadn’t been easy to get to auditions but that would all change after today, for better or for worse. If she got the nod for a callback, she would pass up the promotion that would send her to Washington, D.C., and really, truly give her singing career a shot. If she didn’t make the cut…

  She wouldn’t think like that. Miracles happened. It was New Year’s Eve Day, and she had a week’s vacation in front of her so that was auspicious, right? New beginnings? Fresh resolve?

  She’d selected a Sondheim number for her first piece. Everyone knew he was the most difficult to sing, and she wanted to start with a bang. If they let her sing another, she was ready there, too, with a piece from Chess.

  Her stomach tightened at the thought. Yep, she’d been right to skip breakfast.

  As the cab slowed to a crawl in the late morning traffic, Maggie’s cell rang. It was underneath her shoes and her makeup bag, of course, and it better not be work with an emergency. Hmm. Colin. He shouldn’t be calling her now. With a sigh she flipped open the phone. “What’s wrong?”

  “The idiot’s done it again. I swear, Maggie, I’m going to wring his bloody neck.”

  All the air went out of her lungs as she imagined the worst. Colin’s twin brother, Blake, was in Afghanistan where he was covering the Middle East for the BBC. “What’s happened?”

  “He’s gone missing. He checked in four days ago from north of Kabul. He’d made a connection with a contact in the insurgency. He was supposed to call in two days ago, and he hasn’t.”

  “Oh, God. How’s your mother?”

  “Scared. As usual. He does this every—” Colin stopped and she could practically see him eye the wall, ready to throw his fist into it. “His boss has no idea where the hell he is. No one does.”

  The cab turned the corner, and there was the building where the audition was being held. People were standing in line outside, all of them bundled up from the cold, but she knew they were sweating with nerves and excitement. That was the thrilling part about these big calls. Anything was possible.

  She held back a sigh. This was her do-or-die audition and she was only two blocks away. Perhaps she could go in for just a moment, maybe to sing one song—her chest tightened and she hated that she’d hesitated for even a second. There simply wasn’t another choice. It was Colin. “I’m on my way.�
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  “When I find him,” he said, “I’m going to kill him myself.” Then he hung up.

  The cab moved forward and instead of telling the driver to take the next right, her breath caught in her throat. She was so close. It wasn’t that she hated her life now, she didn’t. Working for Homeland Security’s New York office was important and meaningful, but it wasn’t her dream. Not her biggest dream, at least. She’d been singing all her life, fantasizing about her Broadway debut. She’d practiced her Tony acceptance speech every year, even though she’d never been eligible. This could have changed it all. It could have kept her in New York. Kept her close to Colin. It could have been her miracle.

  She tapped on the partition. “Change of plans,” she said, then gave him Colin’s address. She sat back and closed her eyes, not able to watch as the cab turned away.

  Damn Blake. Did the man have no sense of self-preservation? No thought for anyone but himself? The insurgency had no qualms about killing a British journalist. They’d proved it several times. And of course, Colin had to be the one to pick up the pieces.

  She stared blankly out the window as they drove straight past where she lived, heading to Colin’s apartment in a very nice section of the Meatpacking District.

  Her own place was tiny, dark and, frankly, a nightmare. Colin had been horrified when he’d first seen it. He’d gone so far as to offer her the guest room at his place, which was possibly the worst suggestion ever. Which he knew, but the man hated the idea of worrying about her. He had enough on his plate.

  As she passed Ninth Avenue, her thoughts drifted to simpler times. Back to Cambridge University, where she’d met Colin and his twin. They’d lived a block away from her student lodging, roughing it. Their father was a diplomat, a real mover and shaker on the international scene and Colin was meant to follow in his footsteps. The brothers had shared a place at university while Blake studied English and Colin international relations and languages. It had been friendship at first sight. As the three amigos, they’d fallen in and out of love with various and sundry, studied, laughed and annoyed each other endlessly. Through it all and three years later, they were still the best of friends.