She glanced over her shoulder in the direction of the kitchen. “It’ll be ready in fifteen minutes. You’re early.”
He was. He’d been out of Norris Enterprises like a shot at five o’clock, because he couldn’t wait to pick up where they’d left off last night. Now he wasn’t sure why he’d bothered. “Sorry.”
“No,” Kaylee said, flushing, “I didn’t mean... I just didn’t expect you yet.”
Right. He pushed the glasses up his nose. “We should talk.”
Better to get it out in the open, whatever it was, than having to deal with this tiptoeing around. They hadn’t been this uncomfortable around one another since the night she first moved in. Hell, the one time he’d talked her into coming over for a pizza and a movie over the summer, she’d been more comfortable with him than she was now.
She nodded. “I’m sorry I jumped you like that.”
She was? Damn.
“It won’t happen again.”
Double damn. “That’s too bad.”
She blinked.
“I had a good time,” Owen said.
She blinked again. Twice. “I did, too.”
Good. Not that he’d been in much doubt. “I was thinking...”
“Yes?” Kaylee said, when he trailed off.
“Since we’re married and everything...”
“Yes?”
“And you obviously have needs, and I do, too...”
Her cheeks turned bright pink, but she nodded. “Yes?”
This was a lot harder to get out than when he’d been practicing it in the car. He took a steadying breath and spat it out. Quickly, so he couldn’t change his mind. “As long as we’re married anyway, maybe we should take care of those needs for each other.”
Kaylee blinked. “Have sex again?”
Yes, please. “If you’d like to. I mean, I know I said I wouldn’t ask anything of you, so if you don’t—”
“I do,” Kaylee said.
“You do?”
“I’d like to have sex again. With you.”
“Oh.” His voice cracked, and his pushed his glasses more securely up his nose. “Good.”
She nodded. And then she just stood there and looked at him. “How about now?” she asked after a few seconds.
“Now?” He glanced over her shoulder toward the kitchen, where that tantalizing odor of pot roast was coming from.
“I’ll turn it off,” Kaylee said. And hesitated. “Unless you want to eat first?”
Owen shook his head. “It’ll keep.” Or not. He couldn’t find it in himself to care, one way or the other. “I’m more hungry for you.”
She smiled, and it lit up her whole face, as well as the tiny part of his libido that wasn’t already jumping up and down in anticipation, pumping its fist. “I’ll go turn off the stove.”
“I’ll wait.” He did, watching her as she disappeared into the kitchen, and watching as she came back out again.
She stopped in front of him. “Before we go upstairs, tell me something.”
“Sure,” Owen said, although he suspected, from the way she spoke and the way she looked at him, that it wasn’t likely to be a question he’d enjoy answering.
She kept an eye on him from under her lashes. “It’s just because we’re married, right? And because we have needs? Nothing else?”
He hesitated. Part of him—most of him—wanted to say no, it was because he was in love with her and he’d take any part of her he could get for as long as it was offered... but he couldn’t bring himself to utter the words. She must have a reason for asking, and he wasn’t willing to take a chance on saying the wrong thing. The way she’d phrased the question made it pretty obvious what he was supposed to say. “Of course. Don’t worry.”
“I’m not worried,” Kaylee said.
Right. Although she looked worried.
He hesitated, and then thought, to hell with it. “C’mere.” He reached for her.
They hadn’t kissed since their wedding day. Sure, their mouths had knocked together and their tongues had tangled some last night, but that was different. That had been about sex. Kissing and sex were different.
Strange, that being mouth to mouth and fully clothed should feel more intimate than him being buried to the hilt inside her, banging away... but when he cupped her cheeks and lowered his mouth to hers, he could feel her shiver, so maybe she felt the difference, too.
He put everything he felt, everything he was, everything he couldn’t tell her, into the kiss. It started out soft and sweet, but by the time he was finished, she clung to him, her body plastered against his, pregnant stomach and all, and her eyes were liquid behind half-closed lids.
“It’s gonna be OK.”
She nodded.
“Let’s go upstairs.”
“Yes,” Kaylee said, her voice raspy, “please.”
He scooped her up and headed up the stairs. “Your bed or mine?”
“Yours,” Kaylee said, her arms wrapped around his neck. “It’s closer.”
Right. He kicked the door open, put her on the bed, and followed her down.
It was gonna be OK.
Chapter Thirteen
OWEN BURST THROUGH the door at a run, already yanking at his tie. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry!”
He skidded on the hardwood floor and almost ran into Kaylee, who was standing in front of the mirror putting on lipstick.
“Whoa!” The skid brought him all the way to her, close enough to grab a hold. “I’m sorry I’m late. I’ll run upstairs and change.”
“It’s fine.” She smiled at him in the mirror, her lips glossy red and wet-looking, to match the shimmery red dress. “There’s lots of time. I laid out your suit on the bed. And you have time for a quick shower. Is it a big deal if we’re ten minutes late?”
He shook his head, distracted. “What kind of lipstick is that?”
She met his eyes in the mirror, and he wondered whether she knew what he was thinking. Those lips, wet and red and shiny, wrapped around his shaft...
Oh, yeah. She knew.
She grinned. “Waterproof. Long lasting. It’ll still look like this when we get home tonight.”
“Really?”
“I promise. If you’re a good boy...” She let the sentence trail off, suggestively.
Owen grinned back. “Oh, I’m good. Very, very good.”
Bulls-eye. Her eyes got ever so slightly glassy, and when he reached out and trailed a finger down her bare arm, she shivered.
They’d had sex quite a few times in the past three weeks, but it never failed to amaze him how she responded to him. She’d moved into his bed permanently, and she never said no when he reached for her. He could wake up in the middle of the night and touch her, and she’d rise from dead sleep, ready to go. Not just willing, but eager. Giving him everything she had and more. He couldn’t get enough of her, and from the way she was acting, she felt the same way about him. Or at least about the orgasms he gave her.
Too bad it was just sex. Even if the sex was out of this world.
He took a step back and looked at her. Long, smooth legs, strappy silver sandals, and that red dress, with her hair tumbling over her shoulders. The red satin fit her perfectly, leaving her back and arms bare, and dipping dangerously low over her breasts. They looked ready to spill out over the top. Wouldn’t take much effort at all. “What have you got on under there?”
“Nothing under the top.” She shot him a sideways glance out of the corner of her eye, and blushed at the desire that kindled in his eyes.
“What about the skirt?” He moved to stand behind her, close enough that he could reach down. And then he skimmed his hands up the outside of her thighs, pushing the shimmery red fabric up with them. Until he could see her ass and what she had on underneath. What she’d worn, just for him.
“Strawberries.” He grinned at her in the mirror. “My favorite.”
She smiled back. “Hungry?”
“For you? Always.” He hooked his fingers in the waistband of the pant
ies and tugged.
“Now?” Kaylee said, halfway shocked and, he thought, halfway intrigued. “What about the party?”
“Forget the party.” He knew they couldn’t, not completely, but he was already late. What was another ten minutes?
“What about the dress?” Kaylee wanted to know, her eyes on his face in the mirror.
“Forget the dress, too. I’ll buy you another. Tomorrow.”
“I need to wear it tonight,” Kaylee said, but she lifted one foot and then the other so he could pull the underwear all the way down her legs and off. When he straightened and stepped close to her again, she arched her back so her ass pressed against his zipper. He grinned and bent to kiss her naked shoulder, next to the red halter strap of the dress. His voice sounded rough when he whispered against her ear. “What about you, Kaylee? Are you hungry?”
“For you?” She threw his words back at him. “Always.”
Just what he wanted to hear. Screw the company Christmas party. He’d rather have his own party and screw his wife.
He pushed the dress higher, to bunch around her waist, baring her legs and that luscious ass he’d lusted after, every time he’d seen her in those short shorts. “Brace yourself, sweetheart.”
“Right here? Like this?” Shock and desire mingled in the eyes that met his in the mirror, along with a shimmer of anticipation.
“Not much time for anything else.” He pulled down the zipper of his slacks and let them drop to bunch around his ankles, and followed up with his boxers. His dick sprang forth in all its glory, ready to take on the world. Or at least ready to take on Kaylee. “I’ll take care of you later, I promise. When we get home. But I don’t think I can wait that long. Spread your legs a little.”
She moved those long legs apart, opening herself for him, and he dragged a finger down her center, testing how wet she was. No problem there: she was more than ready for him. Aroused and eager. Her breath caught when he penetrated her with a finger, and she pushed back against his hand as her eyes grew heavy with pleasure.
“No.” He withdrew his hand and gave her ass a quick swat, just because it was there and he could. “Keep your eyes open. Watch.”
She didn’t complain about the treatment, just kept her gaze on him in the mirror, her eyes wide with anticipation now. He adjusted his body to hers: bent his legs a little to make up for the difference in their heights, and positioned himself at the entrance to her body, nudging her. In the mirror, he saw her lips part, and her eyes turn liquid blue. And when he grasped her hips in his hands and surged forward to fill her, she cried out. He smiled at her, loving how responsive she was. Loving the fact that he was nailing her in the hallway, in her fancy dress, just a few feet from the front door, when they should be on their way to the annual Norris Christmas party.
And in addition to that, he was nailing her in front of a mirror. He’d never had a mirror fetish before—never spent much time in front of them and certainly would never put one on the ceiling above his bed to watch himself in action—but this... this was beyond hot. Watching Kaylee’s face as he drove into her, the way her eyes blurred and her lips parted. Watching himself thrust, and at the same time feeling the sensation of sliding deep into her wetness.
His voice didn’t even sound like his own when he told her, “God, you’re gorgeous. I can’t believe we’re doing this.”
“I can’t, either.” She was breathless but smiling, her eyes hot.
She had braced herself against the console table, making sure the baby wouldn’t bump against anything, and she kept watching as he brushed her hair aside to unsnap the halter closure of her dress. Her cheeks got hot, but she didn’t say anything, not even when he yanked the bodice down and brought her breasts tumbling out. When he reached around to fill his hands, she moaned, sinking her teeth into her bottom lip. But she kept watching in the mirror as he played with her nipples and thrust into her from behind. This—watching—was turning her on just as much as it did him, it seemed, because she was dripping wet and getting wetter.
He’d thought there was a chance she might not be able to keep up with him in this position, and he’d had every intention of reaching around, between her legs, to give her a little nudge when he was ready. But it turned out to be unnecessary. She came before him, the way she often did. He could see her climax building, in the flush in her cheeks and the glitter in her eyes, and hear it in her breathing: the needy whimpers and pants becoming shallow gasps. She began fluttering inside, gently at first, before she dissolved into spasms, gasping and shuddering, yet never taking her eyes off him in the mirror. As her climax brought on his own, he wrapped his arms around her stomach and watched her and thought he’d never seen anything more beautiful in his life.
“KAYLEE,” OWEN SAID formally, “this is Mr. Norris and his daughter, Virginia.”
They’d been almost an hour late to the party. They’d both needed a shower after what happened, and one thing had led to another, with soap and other things, and the end result was that they’d been a lot later than Kaylee had wanted to be. Norris Industries was where Owen worked. They seemed to like him there, because they kept giving him promotions and moving him around to different departments. He was in accounting now, over from payroll. They seemed to appreciate him, and she felt bad that she’d kept him from being on time to the party. Even if what had happened had been his fault more than hers. She’d been ready to leave when he came home.
Not that she hadn’t appreciated the interlude. The fact that he couldn’t keep his hands off her, that he’d be late to his own company Christmas party so he could make love to her, was very flattering, and it also made her feel warm inside. Not in a sexual way, but in a way that felt good, because she was loved. Or at least liked. Appreciated.
But now they were here, and Owen was introducing her to the head of the company. Gilbert Norris. Who looked nothing at all like the man who had told her six months ago he was Gil Norris.
The real Mr. Norris was a tall, thin man in his seventies, with very little hair and piercing blue eyes. His daughter, Virginia, looked like she might be in her early fifties. A statuesque woman in a beautiful silk dress with sequins, and with dark blond hair in a short but elegant cut and what might be real diamonds in her ears. Both of them were looking at her, very intently.
“This,” Owen said, his hand warm and supportive at the small of her back, “is my wife.”
He smiled at her, and there was pride in his eyes. Pride and something else, something warm and encouraging. Approval.
Kaylee smiled back, before turning to the Norrises. Her heart was beating hard, but she managed to keep her voice steady. “Nice to meet you.”
“You too,” Mr. Norris said, his voice strong and steady for an older man. His daughter didn’t say anything, just looked Kaylee over, slowly, from head to toe.
Kaylee fought back a shiver. Could Virginia tell that Kaylee didn’t belong here, in spite of the nice dress and the possession and pride on Owen’s face? Did she realize that apart from him, Kaylee was just a cheap waitress from a trailer park in Georgia, with no family, no money, and no education? That she didn’t deserve him?
Did Virginia know that the baby she was carrying wasn’t Owen’s? Had he told them?
They seemed to be on friendly terms, because Mr. Norris had started a conversation with Owen, asking him how he liked working in accounting. Not talking down to him, either, like a business owner to an employee. Either her husband was someone special, or Mr. Norris kept a close eye on all his associates—at least everyone in management at Norris—if he knew where each one of his employees worked at any given time. And especially Owen, who had been moved around so much. He’d had three different jobs just in the few months she’d been married to him.
“I finally figured out what happened to the missing money,” Owen said with a grimace, “for all the good that it does.”
Virginia turned away from scowling at Kaylee to talk to him. “Why doesn’t it do any good?”
&
nbsp; “Because the guilty party is no longer with the company. And I don’t know where to find him.”
“Employee records...”
“You think I haven’t thought of that?”
It seemed an impolite way to respond to one of the owners of the company, and Kaylee wondered whether he’d get in trouble, but no one else seemed to think anything of it.
Owen shook his head, exasperated. “It’s my own stupid fault.”
“How can it be your fault?” Mr. Norris wanted to know.
Owen turned to him. “I’ll tell you. It happened over the summer. Just a week or two after I started working here. I was in the mailroom at the time.”
“Right.” Mr. Norris’s thin lips twitched. “You started at the bottom, didn’t you, boy?”
“Yes, sir.” Owen rolled his eyes behind the glasses. Another sign of disrespect that no one else seemed to mind or even think was strange. “Anyway, I was in the mailroom. And I realized there was this guy in accounting named Damian Cooper. I played baseball with a guy named Damian Cooper. I thought it might be the same guy, so I checked his employee file, and sure enough, his resume said he’d gone to Vanderbilt University, just like the guy I knew.”
“So?” Mr. Norris said.
“So I went looking for him. Only to find someone I’d never seen before.”
“Damian Cooper isn’t that unusual of a name,” Virginia said. “I’m sure there’s been more than one of them studying at Vanderbilt University over the years.”
Owen nodded. “That’s what I thought. It seemed like an enormous coincidence, but I thought there was a chance that’s all it was. We talked for a couple of minutes, and he was friendly enough. We reminisced a bit about the Vanderbilt area and Rotier’s hamburgers, and he told me I’d gotten the times wrong, and that he’d graduated a couple years before me. I was pretty sure I remembered his resume saying he was there at the same time I was, but he sounded so confident that I started to doubt myself, you know?”
Both Mr. Norris and his daughter nodded.
“He did look like he was a couple years older than me, so it made sense that he’d have graduated before I did. And he knew enough about the university and the neighborhood that it seemed like he’d actually spent some time there. I said I was sorry, it was my mistake, and then I went to human resources to double check.”
Friends With Benefits Page 11
