Wicked Pleasures

by Tori Carrington

  “In fact, I think I should go before we do something we both might regret.”

  “Will!”

  He was about to release her but instead held tight. “What?”

  “You haven’t even kissed me yet.”

  “Oh, yes. Right.”

  With his feet planted at the top of the stairs, he leaned in, hesitated at the look of submission on her face as she tilted up her chin, then he gave her what had to be the driest, quickest peck on the cheek in history.

  “Very well, then. Good night!”

  And with that he was down the stairs and out of the building like a shot.

  13

  RENAE SAT ON THE STEPS outside the condo door, listening as Tabitha and Nina had one of their world-famous arguments. Actually it was more like a fanatical rant. Essentially Tabitha tried to reason with Nina while her irate lover raged on for what sometimes seemed like hours.

  Renae stared down longingly at the half gallon of Ben & Jerry’s Chunky Monkey she’d run out to get.

  The agreement she and Tabitha had come to when Renae had moved in was that if there was a heated situation with one or the other of them with their significant others, they would make themselves scarce.

  In this case it meant that rather than going inside and interrupting the scene that was undoubtedly taking place in the living room, Renae was sitting on the hall steps with a carton of melting ice cream, without a spoon. Which seemed to pretty much sum up the whole of her life at that very moment.

  She parked her elbows on her knees then dropped her head into her hands. Was it really just over a week ago that everything had been running like clockwork? When she’d been happy with her job at Women Only without yearning for more? When she’d come home with no suspicion of someone sabotaging her personal belongings and tampering with her cell phone? When she’d been happily single without thoughts of a hunky, unavailable surgeon hanging out on the fringes of her mind—whether she was awake or asleep—always present, always tempting her?

  Yep, her life was a carton of melting ice cream without a spoon and she wasn’t sure what, if anything, she could do with the mess that would surely remain afterward.

  And there would be an afterward, wouldn’t there?

  She puzzled over that one.

  If there was one thing life had taught her it was that there was always an afterward. Postchildhood. Postadolescence. Hell, there was even postpartum depression, although she hoped never to run into that one. Then again, judging by the way her life was progressing so far, she’d probably have to suffer through that as well when and if she ever got married and had children.

  Now there was a thought….

  Her cell phone vibrated in her pocket. She sighed as she fished it out, then stared at the lighted display. Her mother. Oh, great. Just what she needed now.

  “Hi, Mom.”

  “God, I hate caller ID,” Daisy Truesdale said with a dramatic sigh. “You can never surprise anyone anymore.”

  “You never surprise me anyway.” Simply because her mother’s goal in life was to provide constant surprises, so Renae had come to expect them. “What’s up?”

  “Why does anything have to be up in order for me to call my daughter, my only child?”

  If there was any justice in this world, it was that Daisy had only had one child to screw up. “Because something’s always up.”

  Renae was aware she was being more cynical than usual. Probably had something to do with being locked out of her own apartment while sitting on the steps watching her favorite ice cream melt.

  “Okay, in this case, you’re right.”

  Renae closed her eyes, mentally bracing herself.

  “I’m moving to Vegas to become a showgirl.”

  Renae shook her head and grimaced. Her mom, a forty-three-year-old Vegas showgirl. At least it was in line with the remainder of Daisy Truesdale’s life. Underage stripper at seventeen who’d gotten pregnant by a customer who’d sworn he’d always take care of her then had burned rubber when he’d found out she was pregnant. Renae had been raised in the back rooms of strip clubs around pasties and G-strings and silicone breasts. And as soon as she was old enough, she’d followed in her mother’s footsteps, never really knowing any other kind of life.

  Until Ginger.

  “So?” her mother said after long moments. “Are you going to say anything?”

  “What’s there to say?”

  “I don’t know. Good luck?”

  “Good luck.”

  “Well, that sounded sincere.”

  Renae’s shoulders slumped. She didn’t mean to be rude to her mom, she really didn’t. It was just that so much of her life was for crap right now that she couldn’t sum up much enthusiasm for Daisy’s latest escapade. From dancing on cruise ships, going to New York to try her hand at Broadway, this new news wasn’t…well, new.

  “Look, Mom, are you leaving today?”

  “No. Not for another week.”

  “Good then, we have some time. I’ve really got to go right now, though.”

  A few moments later, after promising Daisy she would call by tomorrow, Renae disconnected the call and turned off her phone, resisting the urge to lie back on the floor in a gesture of surrender. She didn’t know if anyone was currently controlling the strings of her life, but if they were, she wanted to write them a long, detailed letter of complaint.

  Downstairs, she heard the outer door open. She sat up a little straighter, hoping it wasn’t anyone who lived on the third floor who might see her sitting outside. Nudging the bag of ice cream aside with her foot, she bent over to look down the stairwell. She made a strangled sound as Will looked right up to stare into her eyes.

  And the day just kept getting better and better.

  She supposed that’s what she got for questioning the great puppeteer of life.

  Renae quickly drew back and closed her eyes. Oh, great. What she really needed right now was for Will to think she was sitting there waiting for him.

  Her heart thudded against her rib cage as she strained to hear him continue up the stairs to his apartment. Nothing. Which was a good thing, right? Because it meant he wasn’t coming up—

  Something touched her arm. She shrieked and nearly leapt straight out of her skin.

  “Whoa. I mean, I know I have quite an impact on the ladies, but I didn’t think I was that good.”

  Renae stared into Will’s face, but rather than finding the grin that normally would have accompanied his words, he wore a grimace. A handsome, irresistible grimace that made her stomach pitch to somewhere in the vicinity of her feet and made her toes curl where they were visible in her flip-flops.

  Toes he seemed to be a little preoccupied with presently.

  “Um, hi,” she said. “In case you’re wondering, I’m not sitting here waiting for you.”

  As if on cue, the sound of something breaking against the apartment door made them both jump, indicating the argument within was not only still going strong, but had escalated.

  Will looked from the door to her. “Actually I was going to ask if you’d forgotten your keys.”

  She held them up and again he seemed inordinately preoccupied with the simple silver icon of her astrological sign of Leo.

  Renae tucked the keys half into her pocket, far enough to keep them anchored, then picked up the bag holding the ice cream.

  What did he want? Surely he didn’t expect her to buy that he’d been concerned she’d gotten locked out of her condo? Excuse her if she was wrong, but over the past few days she’d gotten the impression that if she’d been lying half dead in need of CPR, he’d have stepped over her and closed his condo door in order to avoid her.

  She looked at him again, noticing how nice he looked in the simple white oxford shirt and tan Dockers. All the tennis he played had given him a deep, golden tan, and kissed his forever-tousled hair with sun-bright highlights.

  And when he grinned…

  She swallowed hard as he did just that, the gesture see
ming to call a halt to all rational thought and beckon to her body.

  “Your ice cream’s melting.”

  That’s not all that was melting, but she wasn’t about to tell him that. Especially not when she was getting freezer burn on her fingers from desperately holding the bag in front of her.

  “Would you like a spoon?” he asked.

  She’d like much more than a spoon from him. She wanted to follow him back to his place, shut off the air-conditioning and throw open the windows and see what imaginative things they could do with the ice cream to keep cool.

  She must have looked suspicious because he sighed and looked away. “Hey, I’m not trying to come on to you. Trust me that’s, um, the furthest thing from my mind right now.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “I just thought that if you wanted to wait at my place, you know, until you can get back into your own, you’re more than welcome.”

  Renae squinted at him. “Wait. At your place.”

  He nodded.

  “Just…wait. Nothing more?”

  “Nothing more. Well, unless you want to talk or something while you wait.”

  “Talk…” she said drawing out the word.

  “Right. Bad idea.”

  Something else broke against the door. Renae stared at it. “That’s going to leave a mark.” She looked back at Will. “I think I’ll take you up on your offer.”

  FIFTEEN MINUTES LATER Will was ready to have himself committed to the nearest mental health facility. Renae sat cross-legged on his leather sofa, the carton of ice cream in her lap, a spoon in one hand, the remote control in the other. She wore a baggy white sweat suit that had Women Only written across the chest in navy-blue cursive letters, she didn’t have on a lick of makeup that he could tell, and her hair was pulled back into what he’d describe as a messy ponytail, with dark blond tendrils curving all over the back of her golden neck. Definitely not the type of ponytail he was usually drawn to. And nowhere was there a pink ribbon, or a ribbon of any color for that matter.

  She found a station she liked and put the remote down on the coffee table.

  “Are you sure you don’t mind my waiting here?” she asked, glancing at him where he stood in the archway between living and dining room.

  “I don’t mind.”

  “It might be awhile.”

  Bugger. “That’s fine.”

  “Do you like Sex and the City?”

  Will nearly choked on his own saliva.

  Renae didn’t miss his reaction if her own momentary pause was any indication. And he’d bet the Queen’s royal jewels that it was.

  She pointed at the television and he realized she was talking about the show.

  Not that it mattered. The idea of watching the provocative sitcom while in the same room as her was a bad one, no matter which way you sliced it.

  She appeared to feel the same as she reached for the remote with a trembling hand and switched the channel to a news show.

  Better, but only slightly.

  He glanced into the kitchen behind him. “I’m, um, just going to make myself something to eat. Do you want anything?”

  She lifted the carton of ice cream without looking at him.

  “Right.”

  She’d offered him some of the cold concoction when he’d originally handed her a spoon, but he thought it better if he passed, especially considering the way she put the spoon first into her mouth to wet it before sticking it into the carton. Renae’s licking anything was not something he thought he should be watching now.

  He stood with the refrigerator door open for long minutes. He didn’t get it. Not a half hour ago he’d had a beautiful woman he’d been lusting after for the past five months practically throwing herself at him and he’d run from her like a bat out of hell. While now…

  He began taking items out of the refrigerator without looking at them. He’d figure it all out on the counter. Something, anything, to take his mind off the sexier-than-sin woman sitting in the other room. She laughed at something and Will dropped a green pepper.

  The initial plan had been to pick Janet up from the airport, take her to dinner, then drive her home, so he hadn’t had anything to eat since a bagel that had served as breakfast-lunch. The problem was, his appetite didn’t seem interested in anything he looked at. He went through the cupboards, coming away with the same feeling.

  Great. He needed something to do while Renae was inside his apartment, something to keep his hands busy if not his mind, and he couldn’t seem to produce a single, solitary idea as to what.

  Scooping the food items back up, he dumped them into the refrigerator then closed the door.

  Okay, that had burned up an entire thirty seconds.

  He turned around and found himself staring at Renae where she stood in the doorway.

  Damn.

  Damn, damn, damn.

  Up this close, in the bright, unflattering light of the kitchen, she looked even better. Her green eyes were a mesmerizing, creamy jade, her skin was clean and inviting, her body soft and tempting even with all that thick cloth on top of it.

  “Aren’t you…um, hot?” he asked, motioning toward the heavy material and long sleeves.

  She either misinterpreted his meaning, or purposely chose to ignore it. “Very.”

  Will’s willpower was quickly deserting him. His palms itched to feel her skin. His very skin seemed to yearn to touch hers.

  “This helps,” she said, holding out the closed carton of ice cream in front of him.

  “I’m not a big fan of ice cream.”

  “Try it. You might like it.”

  Will was through with trying things he wasn’t supposed to like.

  “Then could you hold it in your freezer for me until I can get back into my place?”

  “Oh, um, sure.”

  He took the carton and put it away. When he turned back around, she was on his other side. Not only was she on his other side, she was bending over, her perfectly rounded rump high in the air as she gained access to his dishwasher.

  She backed up in order to close the door, putting that same delectable rump in direct contact with Big Ben, who had definitely had a change of heart since dropping Janet off.

  “Oh!” Renae swung to face him, her skin wonderfully flushed, mussed tendrils of hair clinging to her cheek. Will caught her by the shoulders to prevent her from falling backward. “I was just, um, putting the spoon in the dishwasher.”

  “I see that.”

  “Of course.”

  Will found it ironic that he was holding Renae in the exact same manner he’d been holding Janet such a short time ago. But rather than using the grip to hold Renae away from him, he was battling with the most incredible desire to pull her closer.

  His gaze swept over her features. From her remarkable eyes, to her softly feathered brows, her high forehead and cheekbones, down her smooth jawline to her downright wicked mouth.

  Her pink, pink tongue darted out to moisten her lips and fire raged a path down his stomach straight to his groin.

  And confusion reigned in his head.

  He didn’t get it. What was it about this one woman that he couldn’t seem to stop wanting her? Couldn’t seem to stop thinking about her? The only common bond they shared was sex. They talked about nothing else, did nothing else.

  Then why was it that when Dr. Stuart Nealon had told him about his possible promotion the other night, it had been Renae he’d wanted to share the news with? Not only hadn’t he thought of telling Janet, he hadn’t even felt inclined to discuss it with her when she’d brought it up. Why was it Renae was the first thing he thought about every morning when he woke up, and was the last thing he thought about before he went to sleep?

  Why was it he wanted this woman with an intensity that scared the hell out of him?

  “Here,” she said, her voice low and gravelly. “Let me make this easier on you.”

  Then she was kissing him, and he was more than letting her—he was kissing her back. And every coherent
thought scattered from his mind as he gave himself over to sensation.

  14

  RENAE FELT as if she’d been trapped in an airless room for the past four days and that she was just now being allowed to take in a long, fresh breath.

  Will’s mouth on hers felt so damn good. So right.

  The hands that had been on her shoulders moments before now gently cupped her jaw, holding her still as he slowly leaned his head one way and kissed her, then the other, his lips softly massaging hers. Renae’s bones melted and she sought support from him. Had she ever been kissed so sweetly? So honestly? So tenderly? She couldn’t remember. But what she did know was that she’d never been kissed that way by Will before. And she wasn’t sure what to do with this change in him.

  His fingers moved from her jaw to her neck, then over her shoulders until his hands finally rested against her bottom. She gasped when he hiked her up to sit on the counter, his mouth barely breaking from its sweet, torturous attentions.

  Renae shifted to a more comfortable position on the hard granite then wrapped her calves around his waist, pulling him in until his long, hard sex rested solidly against hers through their clothing. A shiver started somewhere in the vicinity of her toes then spread up and up and up until it was a downright shudder by the time it reached her shoulder blades. Will’s fingers found the hem of her sweatshirt and pushed it up, then pressed against her quivering stomach.

  Will broke briefly from their kiss and stared deep into her eyes. Renae was helpless to do anything but stare back. He seemed puzzled, as if he was trying to figure something out. In the back of her mind she told him not to bother. That she’d been doing the same thing since the day she’d first given in to her temptation for him and she’d finally accepted that there was no explanation for what she felt for him. It merely…was.

  Then he was kissing her again.

  Renae moaned as he unsnapped her bra then stroked her breasts under the soft material. Each of his moves was so slow, so meaningful that she didn’t know how to respond, how to react. He tugged the sweatshirt up and over her head then slipped her bra free, both items of clothing hitting the floor at his feet.