Ann felt him move up close behind her. She hoped he couldn't hear the pounding of her heart. For that matter, she hoped her Aunt Connie in Dallas couldn't hear it.
What the heck had she been thinking about? Sex. She'd known better, but that chocolate-covered nipple had been more tempting than a chocolate cream, and Lord knew she loved chocolate creams. But what had she been thinking about? Sex. Not with Matt Davis. She'd gone that route, and she didn't need to experience a double dose of failure. So what was she thinking about?
"Sex." His whispered answer to her unspoken question brushed against her ear with soft persuasion. "You and me. When you're ready, Ann. I've been ready for three years."
She closed her eyes against the flood of liquid fire coursing through her as he gently kissed her earlobe, then nibbled a searing path down the side of her neck.
"When you decide that dinner's ready, I want to taste you."
She stood frozen in place as he pulled her top away from her neck, then slid his tongue across the back of her neck.
"Appetizer, main course, and dessert."
His suggestion feathered across every inch of want she'd ever felt for this man and brought her to screaming, demanding life.
She wanted him. Deep inside her where hope still lived. The hope that he could make her feel what she'd never felt, heal what needed healing.
So why not? What are you afraid of? The truth finally poked its head into the light. After years of hiding behind her excuse that she couldn't have a climax with any man, the truth blinked, then smiled at her. It was not a nice smile.
She wanted more than just sex with Matt Davis. Had always wanted more. But Matt wasn't into relationships. Never had been. He enjoyed women; then he left them. Okay, so now he left them happy. That still wasn't enough.
What would be enough? She didn't know. Didn't want to go down that road.
"Uh, why don't you go home now, Matt? I can do the rest of what I have to do tonight from memory." Chirpy. She sounded chirpy. She hated chirpy.
"Coward." His whispered taunt, his husky chuckle, filled the room. Then the click of the door.
He was gone. Physically he was gone. But his essence surrounded her. The memory of his touch, the taste of Sweet Sin and hot male, the musky scent of male flesh that was essentially Matt Davis. Oh, yes, he was still here.
Sighing, she stared at the chocolate man. "Don't you dare laugh at me, buster. I can always turn the heat up; then we'll see how funny everything is."
Reaching up, she smoothed her hand along the jaw that hadn't been quite right. It was perfect now. Just like her disturbing model. "Look, can I help it if I can't resist chocolate-covered nipples? It's a weakness, so sue me."
Her weakness. Matt Davis had been her weakness since she was six years old, and things didn't look like they'd be changing anytime soon.
Chapter Four
Ann stared at the almost-finished sculpture. "Repeat after me. A groin is not the end of the world."
For her, it might just be. Twelve days. She'd piddled around for twelve days and everything was done but this. She'd sculpted a magnificent torso, feet with every toe wonderfully detailed, and strong, muscular legs. Reason for celebration, right? Then why this Titanic-meets-ice-berg sensation in the pit of her stomach?
"You're looking at a coward, Chocolate Man. Maybe I can truck you to the party the way you are. Think that would fly? I could tell the women you were something new. A Make-Your-Man-as-Big-as-You-Can. Women would jump at the chance for that kind of hands-on experience, wouldn't they?
"Nah, you're right. They're paying for the whole package." Ann could hear the sound of her shower above her. Matt was there now, stripped bare, with water sluicing over him, his body hard and gleaming. She should never have let him get into the habit of using her shower. It was haunted now, because every time she stepped into it, he was there— his hands skimming her back, his breath warm on her neck.
She blinked. The shower was the least of her problems. Hard, gleaming, and bare was about to make a personal appearance in her kitchen, and she didn't have a clue how to handle it.
Handle? Not a good term. All kinds of possibilities chased each other across her imagination. Okay, Hawkins, get a grip. Everything she was feeling for Matt, she'd felt before. And look what'd happened when she acted on those feelings.
Fine. So those feelings had been raspberry sherbet, and these feelings were New York cheesecake, praline-style with pecans and a chocolate-caramel sauce.
"What do you think, Chocolate Man? Should I go for it? Matt's not making a secret of what he wants." Would she feel anything when she held him deep within her?
Are you crazy? You could have an orgasm just looking at him. "I'm not sure, Choco— can I call you Choco? Anyway, that's what I thought fourteen years ago. Of course, two minutes didn't set any record for foreplay."
The shower stopped. He'd be drying himself now with one of her big, fluffy bath towels. Hmm. She wondered what his getting-naked technique would be.
Would he take the direct approach? Just come down the stairs without a stitch? Her respiratory system would either go into permanent lockup or she'd hyperventilate for a week.
Maybe he'd put all his clothes back on, then wait until he got in front of her to peel. Uh-uh. He wasn't into torture.
More than likely, he'd simply slip on the shorts he'd worn when she did his legs.
The now-familiar sound of bare feet on the stairs interrupted her listing of possibilities. And before she had a chance to formulate any avoidance strategies, he was in the room with her.
Big, dangerous, with her red towel wrapped around his waist. She'd forgotten red was his favorite color. No wonder he liked the color scheme for Jo's wedding.
She remembered. In sixth grade he'd given her his red baseball cap. She'd been too embarrassed to wear it, but she still had it somewhere. Funny the things you kept.
Without speaking, she shifted her gaze back to the chocolate. To the blocky, unformed middle of the chocolate.
She couldn't look at Matt. If she looked, she'd want to touch. If she touched, her carefully constructed defenses would tumble around her like an unbalanced tower of children's blocks.
Maybe she wouldn't have to look at him. Maybe she could dredge up a general shape from her imagination. Right. And maybe your special cheese sauce will make people skinny.
"So, are you ready?" His voice was close. Too close.
His question wouldn't have made her look, but the hint of uncertainty in his voice drew her gaze to his face. To his chest. To his… He'd taken off the towel.
She shifted her gaze quickly back to his face. She hadn't seen a thing. Just ordinary male parts she'd seen a million times before. Okay, maybe not a million. Okay, maybe not so ordinary.
"What? What's the matter?"
Breathing out on a sigh of inevitability, she shrugged. "I can't do this, Matt."
Turning away, he raked his fingers through his hair. "Hell, Ann, I signed a contract. We don't need a breach of contract messing up Movable Feasts' reputation."
Without his hard gaze probing her, seeing too much, she finally took in his whole package. Strong back flowing into lean hips and sinewed thighs, a body used to hard action. But, lordy, those buns were everything she'd expected. Round and firm, and if she had one regret in her life it was that she hadn't grabbed for them when she'd had the chance.
He turned back to her. Now she had a second regret. He'd seen where her interest lay. She had to wipe that budding gleam of triumph from his gaze. She didn't stop to consider why.
"I've changed my mind. I can do this." And I can eat a pound of strawberries without breaking out in red blotches. "I won't need to touch for this part."
"Why not?" He sounded disappointed.
Okay, disappointed was better than triumphant. "Umm, this situation is more open to misinterpretation by… I mean, if Jo and Francois came… Uh, touching could lead to a growing problem…." What the heck was she saying? Say something that mak
es sense.
"I have no prurient interest in your buttocks." Now that made sense.
"I never thought you had."
Uh-oh. The gleam was back. "Well, when you turned around, I was staring at them because they're… difficult."
"I have a difficult butt?" He looked puzzled.
Ann relaxed. A little. "You see, they're not… vertical. I only do a good job on things that're straight up and down. You're… They're sort of rounded. I don't do rounded well."
He offered her a wry grin. "Then you're going to have a hell of a time with my front."
He tried to look thoughtful, but she knew he was only trying, because his lips had a why-don't-you-tell-me-another-whopper slant to them. "Seems you did okay with that pig. Pigs are pretty round."
"True. But pigs are rounded in a… different way." She could see him getting ready to open his mouth for another question. Another question would have her laughing hysterically as she hacked Choco into a million bite-size bits. "If you'll just stand over by the ovens, we can get this show on the road."
He strode to the designated spot, then turned to face her again. Too close. She could still touch him if she took a flying leap.
"Do I have to stand this far away? I bet you can't see one detail." He drew his palm across his lower stomach, dangerously close to one of his major details.
I can see way too much. "Absolutely. Stay there. I get a better perspective from far away. The whole picture sort of thing." Maybe if she stood out in the hallway she'd even have to squint to see him. "I guess you don't have to pose any particular way."
"Sure you don't want me to pose with my hands over my—"
"No." She finally met his gaze, refused to look away. "If they want a naked man, then they don't want your hands covering up…"
"Afraid, Ann?" His challenge was whisper soft, reaching inside her and touching the truth.
Yes. "No." Slowly, purposefully, she raked his body with what she hoped was an analytical gaze. Yep, everything was there. And he'd been right. His front would be a big problem. "Just stand still and look natural. This won't take me long."
Three hours. He'd stood watching her do almost nothing for three hours. Damn. She couldn't care less that he was standing here freezing his butt off and trying to think cold thoughts so the parts she didn't want covered wouldn't take on added dimensions.
And how was he supposed to look natural? There was no natural pose when you were standing buck naked in front of…
Ann. She looked great. Long legs, curvy, with brown hair that curled over her shoulders and big brown eyes that had always been able to make him do foolish things since he was six years old. And this was probably one of the most foolish. It ranked right up there with the backseat disaster.
It wasn't going to work. He didn't see any lust gleaming in her eyes, just embarrassment. Not a good beginning. Hmm. Maybe he could convince her to do her sculpting in the nude, sort of even out the playing field. He smiled at the thought.
"I'm glad you're enjoying this, Davis." She glared at him over the arm of the chocolate man. "But this is plain old work to me, and I'm having a few problems here. I mean, I'm not a great sculptor. Stand still. It'll take me ages to get the right—"
"Sheesh." Matt gave up on shifting from one foot to another and walked over to a cupboard. Pulling open the door, he dragged a large container out. "You know, you've got a great big chocolate chip on your shoulder, Hawkins."
"Huh. I'm trying real hard to work through this and…"
He watched an angry pink creep into her cheeks and wondered if she turned pink in other places. He'd love the chance to check it out, but he wasn't sure if things were ever going to progress that far. Keep the faith, Davis.
"What's that?" She walked over to take a look.
Her gaze shifted from his face to the container, never straying. How could she carve a part she barely looked at and never touched? Well, it was about time for some touching and, if he was lucky, feeling. This was his ace, and if it failed, then… Damn it, if it failed he'd think of something else. Daddy hadn't raised a quitter.
"Chocolate syrup." He pried off the lid. "From Sweet Sin."
"Why?" She dipped her finger into the chocolate, then licked the gooey sweetness off. She moaned. "Oh, God, that's good."
Would she moan like that for him? When he filled her, would she cry those same words? A body part he'd managed to keep pretty much under control so far started swelling in direct proportion to his imaginings. And his imaginings were legion.
"It's for painting." He pulled off a brush that had been taped to the side of the container. He ran his fingers through the bristles. "Great brush. Won't irritate the skin."
"Painting?"
She widened her eyes and he had the feeling she could look inside him, see the hungry wolf who yearned for his very own Little Red Riding Hood, who wanted to devour her with his lips, his love. Love? Where had that word come from? He didn't love Ann, he… He didn't know.
Exhaling sharply, he pushed the puzzle from his mind. "Look, I've had three hours to watch you work, and there sure enough isn't much work getting done, sweetheart. So I thought of a way to make this a little less painful for all concerned."
She blinked her confusion.
"If we slap a layer of chocolate syrup on my difficult parts, you can get an idea of what the finished product will look like. As an added plus, once my body parts are covered, maybe things'll get a little less personal. How about it?"
She swallowed hard.
"Right. You're worried about goo running all over the tile. Not to worry. This stuff hardens into a thin shell. Once it's on the body, it stays."
She opened her mouth, but nothing came out.
"Great. I knew you'd love it."
"I… I can't do that." Her mental-image factory was churning out pictures guaranteed to curl her toes and any other curlable appendages.
"Sure you can." Crouched in front of the container, he held the brush loosely between his bent knees. "I dare you. You were always good at dares." Absently he swung the brush back and forth between his legs. "Remember the time in fourth grade I dared you to draw Mrs. Cornish in a bikini?" He chuckled.
"Yeah. She made me sit out at recess over that." She couldn't help it; she smiled at the memory.
"Hey, I admitted the whole thing was my idea." He widened the arc of the brush, and in between swings she could see the shadow of his erection.
"Sure. And all she did was thank you for being honest."
With each brief glimpse her heart picked up more beats and her breath came quicker. Not fear, but raw hunger and anticipation tightened her stomach, made her clench her thighs.
Go for it. Why not? She'd fought the good fight for fourteen years, thought she had everything relating to Matt Davis in a nice, safe compartment in her mind. But she'd never been safe from the memories, and now from the reality.
And if she failed? Well, she'd failed before and survived. Besides, Matt was right. She never could resist a dare. "Fine. Let's give it a try."
He stood, and she forced herself not to glance away. Forced herself to face the truth. She wanted Matt Davis. Wanted his bare flesh touching every part of her, wanted to hold him deep inside her. And this time it would last more than a minute.
"Okay. What do you want me to do?" Surprised, she realized that once she admitted the truth to herself, her embarrassment had fled. Maybe she didn't need a defense anymore.
He met her gaze, held it. Awareness charged the air around them with a million sparkling promises, and she hoped to heaven he wasn't writing it off as static electricity.
Breathlessly, she watched him dip his fingers into the rich chocolate.
"Brush?" was all she could get out.
"Don't need it." It sounded as if he was having some breathing problems, too.
Scooping up the chocolate, he smoothed it over his lower stomach, then over his upper thighs, leaving behind the lines of his fingers in the thick mixture.
I
n her mind, it was her fingers sliding across his flesh, leaving lines in the chocolate and on her heart.
He paused, then looked at her. The message in his hot gaze needed no interpreter. See me, Ann. See how much I want you.
Slowly, carefully, he scooped up more chocolate. She knew he was giving her time to flee as she'd fled once before. But fourteen years was a long time, and she realized nothing short of a category-five hurricane blowing in from the Gulf would get her to move now.
He touched his hard length and closed his eyes on a low moan. She felt the moan as her own, felt his pain-pleasure as her own.
Smoothing the glistening chocolate over his aroused flesh in long, rhythmic strokes, he bit his lip and his fingers trembled. His breath came in harsh gasps and a sheen of sweat covered his torso.
She would explode. Nothing less would relieve the knotted desire in the pit of her stomach. She couldn't stand one more minute just watching. "Turn around and let me finish." Her voice was harsh with need, but she didn't care.
Without comment, he turned.
Not her hands. She couldn't trust her hands yet. Hands wanted to grab, to hang on until each finger was pried loose. Besides, hands shook and embarrassed you. No, right now she'd use the brush. A sort of go-between until her hands were under control again.
Crouching down, she dipped the brush into the chocolate, then smoothed it over one gleaming bun. She watched the bristles slide across his skin, trailing chocolate sweetness. Inhaled the rich chocolate aroma. Felt his shudder all the way to her toes. No, not his shudder. Hers.
She dipped into the chocolate again, swept the brush lingeringly across his other bun. Noted its perfect roundness… Hmm. Maybe not. There was a slight indentation on the side of each cheek, and since she didn't have any putty handy, she dabbed a scoop of the chocolate into each shallow dip.
It was almost like painting a wall, except that painting a wall didn't leave her breathless and slightly dizzy. She'd had plenty of experience with walls, particularly the wall of denial she'd built around this man for so many years.
She leaned back on her heals. This was wrong. Instead of painting a wall, she should be tearing the walls down. She felt militant. Down with walls. And she'd start with that putty she'd just put in.
Seduction By Chocolate Page 5
