Crap, I’m falling—
Lawe caught her under the arms and lifted her until her stilettos supported her weight again. “Careful.”
“Sorry. Sorry.” She was screwing this up already. She kicked off her heels before she could further humiliate herself, leaving them in a skewed pile at the door. Get it together. His mouth had felt so good on her neck. The things that mouth could do to other parts of her body…
A gentle pressure on her shoulders turned her around to face him. The green in his hazel eyes had darkened. He slid a hand from her shoulder to the back of her neck, rubbed his thumb in slow circles at her nape as if she were a skittish cat. The tight knot of tension there began to ease.
“Dessert?” he whispered.
The nerves playing in her stomach hopped up to her throat. She nodded, unable to speak.
He released her. But instead of heading up the stairs, he stuck his hands in his pockets and ambled across the foyer to the living area. He paused in the archway, glanced back over his shoulder. “You baked again today, right?”
He disappeared into the kitchen.
After a stunned moment, she padded barefoot after him.
He looked utterly comfortable in her kitchen, standing amid a sea of black granite. He’d rolled his dark blue dress shirt to his elbows, a black belt cinched at his trim waist. His forearm muscles flexed as he lifted the domed glass covering her flourless chocolate cake. “Knife?” he asked.
“Top drawer on the left.”
If dessert meant dessert, what was with all the kissing?
Mystified, she took a seat on a barstool, curling her toes on the wooden support. An internal war waged inside her body between tense nausea and turned-on.
Lawe cut a big slice of cake and neatly slid it onto a dessert plate. He added two forks, sat on the barstool next to her, and placed the cake between them. “Nervous?”
Did they have to talk about it? Dropping her gaze, she forked up a bite-size piece of cake. The heady taste of dark chocolate and espresso spread on her tongue. Her eyes closed in pleasure. Kissing and eating chocolate cake. That was a good plan for the evening. A safe plan.
She opened her eyes. Instead of eating, Lawe watched her. The intensity of his focus made it hard to breathe. The turned-on part of her body won a key battle in the war.
“It’s been a long time for me,” she whispered.
“We don’t have to…”
In a few days, he’d leave, return to Seattle. She’d never see him again. This was one moment, ripped out of the ordinary fabric of her world. If she could only calm her nerves, this would be the perfect affair.
She put a finger to his lips, silencing him. “I want to.”
He nipped her finger with his teeth, then swirled his tongue over the bite. Her nerves tried to rally, but finally the heat snaking through her body overwhelmed their forces.
He pulled her from the kitchen, his fingers laced hard and deep with hers as though he were afraid she’d change her mind. At the door to her bedroom, he unclasped the bracelet from her wrist and hung it on the doorknob.
A goofy giggle escaped before she could choke it off. “Is this the exorcist version of hanging a scarf on your dorm room door?”
“Something like that.”
He pulled her to him and kissed her, tasting like chocolate and sex. They tumbled through the doorway and he swung her around, the force of her body bumping the door shut. She locked her arms around his neck and hiked herself up to wrap her legs around his waist. The strength of her response shocked her. He adjusted his grip, steadying her between the door and his body, and freed one of his hands to slide up her side. His thumb grazed her nipple. An urgent little sound escaped her and he cupped her breast, molding her. Sweet, sharp anticipation flooded her.
His erection ground against her and she gasped, the feel of him pounding through her blood. God, she’d missed this.
Lawe broke their kiss, his breathing ragged. “Give me one minute. Ninety seconds tops.”
She blinked, trying to understand his words through her sexual haze. “Ninety seconds? That’s just the first time, right?”
A short, startled silence followed her words and then he threw his head back and laughed.
She dropped her feet to the ground, a nonsexual kind of heat rushing to her face. Okay, she’d been blunt, but after all this buildup, didn’t she have a right to expect more than a minute and a half of passion?
The smile he gave her was utterly male. “Cupcake, I’m good for a hell of a lot longer than ninety seconds.”
Holly swallowed. She was so turned on she might melt into the carpet.
Reaching into his back pocket, he pulled out a small leather pouch. “The bracelet on the doorknob isn’t going to keep Celia from popping in. Give me a minute to sprinkle some herbs around the room and she won’t be able to materialize in here. Exorcist safe sex. When I’m done, I want you right back where you were.”
Pressed up against him, feeling him everywhere. “Yeah. Okay. I’ll just…” She gestured vaguely in the direction of her bathroom. “Be back in a minute.”
He shook a fragrant pile of herbs into the palm of his hand and sprinkled the stuff in a line across her door.
That might be exorcist safe sex, but they needed the regular kind of protection too. She probably had a stash of condoms shoved in the back of a bathroom cabinet. Did condoms expire? She and Paul had had sex so infrequently after the twins were born, that box might predate their birth. And possibly her relationship with Paul.
She headed for the bathroom, a little unsteady on her feet. She wanted this. Judging by how he’d felt all pressed up against her, Lawe really wanted this. She had to get these crazy thoughts of Paul out of her head.
And brush her teeth. She probably tasted like a dozen cups of coffee with a sugar coating.
She squeezed toothpaste onto her toothbrush and scrubbed until she foamed at the mouth. She was about to get naked in front of a man other than Paul for the first time in years.
Her reflection stared back, a little wild-eyed, her turquoise dress too bright against her pale skin. Should she let Lawe undress her or should she take off her clothes before she left the bathroom? Was it weird to leave the bathroom fully dressed when obviously she’d come in here to get ready for sex? She couldn’t remember how this was supposed to work.
She spat toothpaste into the sink and swished water in her mouth. No way did she have the guts to head out there naked. Dumb, since he was about to see her completely naked. Unless she turned off all the lights and maybe did it under the covers.
The door to her closet opened off the bathroom. A quick rummage through her underwear drawer revealed nothing sexy that fit her post-baby body except one skimpy thong she must have bought during a brief time of marital optimism. She dangled the thong from her fingers, weighing butt-floss discomfort against hoped-for hotness.
Lawe knocked on the door and she squeaked.
“Holly? Are you okay in there?”
Not even a little bit.
“I’ll be right out.”
Condoms.
She dove for the cabinet under Paul’s sink and found the box behind her supply of extra toilet paper. Breathless, she yanked open the bathroom door and held up the condom box.
Lawe’s gaze dropped to the oversized box. The thong still dangled from her other hand. “That’s a lot to live up to.”
The condom box gained about a thousand pounds. “I think I bought the economy size at Costco when I was stocking up on baking supplies. They’re so old I’m not sure they work anymore.”
If that wasn’t the sexiest thing she could have said, she didn’t know what was.
Her skin burned. This was a mistake. She was too insane for sex.
Lawe took the box away from her and tossed it on the counter. “I brought my own. The other kind of
exorcist safe sex. Save the thong.”
He bent to kiss her and she pulled back. “You’ve got for real condoms and not some herbal thing from the Middle Ages, right?”
“For real condoms.” His voice had the strained tone of someone smothering a laugh. He gripped her hips, crowding her against the counter. “Don’t be nervous. I’ve got you.”
He kissed her and the thong fell from her fingers. They stood that way for a while, kissing and tasting, his hands firm on her hips, hers pressed against his chest. Heat built slowly until, fingers trembling, she worked open the buttons of his shirt, stroked her hands along his ridged abdomen. His stomach muscles jumped under her caress. The more she touched him, the more she craved the feel of his skin. She skimmed her hands over his chest, his nipples pebbled under touch. He sucked in a breath and his response spurred her confidence. She rubbed the flat of her palm against him, her breath quickening.
His hands moved to the hem of her dress, slid up her bare thighs and kept going, hiking up her dress until he gripped her hips again, this time in direct contact with her skin. Her legs quaked and she closed her eyes, concentrating on how insanely good this felt. He lifted her onto the counter. Cold marble stung her bottom. Her thighs parted to make room for him.
He hooked a thumb in the waistband of her panties and her heart hammered against her ribs. “I know you’re nervous.” He kissed her neck and she shivered. “So I’m going to make this easy on you. All you have to do is lie back and relax.” His husky voice sent little thrills along her skin. “This one’s on me.”
He’d gotten her panties off and tugged her dress over her head before her brain came back online. The dress landed in a heap in the corner tub. He took his time with her bra, lavishing attention on her breasts while she writhed under his mouth and, oh God, just lay back and enjoyed it. Her bra joined her dress in the tub and cool air washed over her, raising gooseflesh, or maybe that was embarrassment from being utterly exposed. The vanity lights reflected off the white tile, illuminating every inch of her.
So much for doing it in the dark, under the covers.
“You want to do it here?” Her voice was hoarse. “On the counter?”
“Right here.”
He shrugged out of his shirt and her eyes traveled down the spectacular sight of his bare, hard-muscled chest to the impressive erection tenting his suit pants. She licked her lips, lust momentarily blocking out her unease about sitting stark naked on her bathroom counter.
His gaze raked her body, but there was no hint of the contempt or displeasure she’d grown used to from Paul. The only thing she saw in Lawe’s face was hunger. His pants hit the floor.
Wow.
Bracing one palm on the counter, she slid her other hand up his chest, around his neck, and levered her body closer to his. He urged her backward until her bare back hit the mirror behind her. The cold glass on her neck and spine contrasted exquisitely with the heat of his body warming her front. His hands were everywhere, then his mouth. She shuddered, her breath ragged, need coursing through her. His mouth moved lower. The shock of his tongue licking, then sucking, made her gasp.
She braced herself against the mirror, an aching heat built in her core. But her legs dangled awkwardly off the edge of the counter, distracting her.
Her timidity was about to fuck up a killer orgasm.
Screw it.
She bent her knees, anchored her heels on his shoulders. His eyes met hers, and she felt him smile against her even as his tongue stroked the exact right spot and a million volts of pleasure rocketed through her body.
Before she stopped shuddering, he entered her with one powerful thrust—how had he gotten the condom on so fast, major points for that one—and she screamed. Somewhere, from a great distance, she heard what sounded like female laughter.
Lawe yanked her against him, she locked her legs around his waist, and he began an urgent, thrusting rhythm that had her twisting desperately under him. She opened her eyes, not embarrassed anymore, needing to see him.
He drew her tighter to him and all coherent thought liquefied. Every muscle tensed.
“Holly.” His eyes bored into hers and another orgasm engulfed her a second before his own climax.
Her breath came in gasps as she clung limply to Lawe. He rested his forehead against hers, also breathing hard. Under her hands, his back was slick with sweat.
“Wow,” she said, out loud this time.
“You’re welcome.”
She laughed, the vibrations making her more aware of him still inside. “Was that more than ninety seconds? I lost track.”
“Next time you can use a stopwatch.” He lifted her, tightening his grip to support her weight, and carried her to the shower. He set her down on the soft bath mat. “This is an enormous shower you have here, Mrs. Archer. I think your bathroom is half the size of my apartment.”
She shrugged, uneasy at Paul’s ostentation, especially considering the likely source of his money. The sooner she bought her own, smaller place, the better. She opened the glass door and turned on the water.
They took their time sudsing each other up and sluicing the soap bubbles away. Her skin tingled under his touch and the warm water. She scrubbed his back, following the loofah with her hand across the tribal tattoo stretched across his shoulders, enjoying the play of muscles under her palm. If only they could stay in this shower, where everything was safe and warm and wonderful.
He made a little sound of pleasure. “You know that conversation we had about you using me for sex?”
She chuckled and ran the loofah lightly across the back of his neck. “Best idea I ever had.”
“Maybe we could consider it on more than a short-term basis.”
The hesitancy in his voice tightened the muscles in her chest. The pressure built until she struggled to get a deep breath. Lawe was a good, decent guy—at least she hadn’t fallen for another Paul—but bringing a man into her life when she had two young children was complicated. He wasn’t a father. How would he react to tantrums and interrupted sleep and the endless treadmill of stuff to do? He’d spent his adult life avoiding family ties, avoiding even the overtures Dec’s family made to include him. With her, he’d be thrown into a mad whirlwind of exactly the life he hadn’t wanted, even if he now wanted her.
This thing between them was supposed to be short-term. They should make a clean break when he left town. Stretching out this doomed relationship would only confuse the kids…and crush her heart.
Her hand trembled on his back. She didn’t want to reject him, didn’t want to hurt him. So she took the coward’s way out and distracted him.
“Mmmm.” Maybe he wouldn’t hear the desperation riding the edge of her voice. She kissed her way down his spine, lingered on his hipbone, then knelt in front of him. His breath sucked in. He tangled his hand in her hair. A light spray of water droplets fell on her, clinging to her eyelashes. “Let’s talk about it later.”
Chapter Nine
Lawe woke up with Holly burrowed against his chest, his arms around her. Midmorning light filtered through the curtains, and the house was absolutely silent. He breathed in her scent, feeling more peaceful than he had in a long time. Exhaustion could account for some of that. They’d moved their activities from the shower to the bed, shared a late-night dessert, then made love again.
He could get used to this.
She made a sleepy sound and pressed her body closer to his. “What time is it?”
He glanced at the bedside clock. “Ten.”
Groaning, she rolled onto her back and threw an arm over her eyes. “Damn. My sister will be here soon with the kids.”
Not really listening, he bent to nibble on her gorgeous, exposed breasts.
She moaned, the sound part pleasure and part frustration. “Don’t. We haven’t got time.”
He flicked her nipple with his tongue. “Get
out the stopwatch. I’ll make it fast.”
She laughed and rolled out of his reach. He shot his arm out, grabbing her around the waist and dragging her against him.
His cell phone blared.
“Dammit.” He grabbed the phone from the nightstand, but kept his other arm securely around her. “Why is it every time we’re having a moment, something interrupts us?”
“Welcome to family life.” There was an edge in her voice that he didn’t understand.
The phone buzzed again and he glanced at the display. “My friend in San Francisco.”
She rolled to face him, anxiety leaping into her eyes.
“Luis,” he said into the phone, running his hand soothingly down Holly’s side. “What do you have for me?”
“This was a tricky one, but you came to the right man.” Luis’s voice came over the line fired up, a computer geek in his element, bringing back memories of a haunted Nob Hill Victorian in need of a spiritual cleanse. “What we have here is a bunch of mortgage applications, all serviced by Better Brokers, a small mortgage broker company, and all for people who worked at Mountain Sun Business Technologies. This took some delicate digging, but here’s the bottom line. All these mortgages are for properties your man Paul and his partner Jake sold. All the buyers are straw buyers.”
“What the hell is a straw buyer?”
Holly frowned. “A straw—”
The cell phone on her nightstand buzzed.
“I don’t believe this.” She scooted to the edge of the bed and grabbed her phone.
“A straw buyer buys a property on behalf of someone else,” Luis was saying. “Before you ask, it’s legal. Usually. Not in this case.”
Lawe’s attention sharpened. “What did you find?”
“A massive scam. Damn good one too. These guys were good, but not as good as me.” Smugness thickened Luis’s voice. He loved nothing better than showing off his giant brain. “Better Brokers and Mountain Sun Business Technologies are faker than an LA trophy wife’s boobs. The companies are nothing more than a website and a phone line. Better Brokers is owned by a shell company. Ditto for Mountain Sun. Both those shell companies buried themselves in layers of secrecy. Nothing I couldn’t handle. The shell companies are owned by your boy’s partner, one Jake Darlington. Meaning good ol’ Jake owns both Better Brokers and Mountain Sun.”
The Exorcist Who Loved Me Page 10
