He wasn't gentle or subtle in his attempt to get the task over with, which only served to turn right around and bite him in the ass. He pulled so hard, the jeans went down her thighs, but the movement ricocheted her forward. So that her pink panties popped him right in the mouth.
It lasted only a second before he leaped away, but it was long enough for him to process the smoothness of satin, the contrast of warmth there where the rest of her was cool. The smell of damp, and perfume, and something that seemed entirely like arousal to him.
But that was probably wishful thinking, sack of shit that he was, so he let go of the jeans at her knees and stumbled backward.
"There you go. You should be able to get them the rest of the way."
Then he took his demanding dick and ran, slamming the bathroom door behind him.
Claire grabbed the countertop for support and allowed herself a little whimper. So close, yet so frustrating.
She didn't understand it. His face had been virtually in her crotch, and yet, nothing. He was either a man of steel or he had no interest in her whatsoever.
Which would totally and completely suck, because not only had she been wanting to jump his bones for half a decade, she had now managed to get herself a little hot and a lot bothered.
His face had been in her crotch. His breath had blown across her stomach. Of course she was going to get turned on. Not to mention it had been eighteen months since she'd had sex. And even then her boyfriend Brian hadn't been all that great at it. Straight shooting he could do, but the man didn't know what a tongue was for.
Claire kicked off her jeans violently and stopped her thought train before it wrecked. The last thing in the world she wanted to be thinking about was Brian's oral techniques, or lack thereof.
What she wanted to know was Justin's take on tongue action.
She also wanted to rip his sweatshirt off and try her own tactile tricks.
Maybe she just needed to be a little more obvious so he wouldn't have any doubts about what she was offering.
Unless he really didn't want it.
Popping her bra off, she commanded herself to chill out. Only she couldn't prevent a gasp of utter horror when she looked in the mirror.
Maldigalo, she silently cursed in Spanish. No wonder Justin didn't want anything to do with her. She looked like hell.
Touching her wet, stiff, lopsided hair, she groaned. She looked like one of those freaky, maniacal porcelain dolls her grandmother collected. "I'm like Bride of Chucky!"
With a Rudolph red nose, scarlet cheeks, cotton candy pink ears, and a strange magenta streak across her neck. She was the whole flippin' family of reds.
"Nice. Just fabulous." Ditching her panties, she stepped in the shower.
"Aaahh. Oh, yeah. Okay, everything's better when you're warm." That felt so good. The water soothed her, running all through her clammy hair and down her red face. After washing her hair twice, and cranking up the heat, she leaned back in the hot stream. She forcibly relaxed her muscles and used large amounts of Reese's shower gel to massage her shoulders, arms, inner thighs.
She lingered between her legs with characteristic optimism, hoping she'd need enticing mango shower gel scent there because Justin would be inhaling it.
Of course, picturing him doing just that while her slippery hands slid over her skin had her hitching her breath and reaching out for the shower wall for support.
That was it.
"Screw this." Turning off the faucet, she flung back the shower curtain. Squeezed water out of her hair. Stepped out onto the bath mat.
Time to go for broke.
"Justin?" she called. "I forgot a towel. Can you bring me one?"
Chapter Three
You know, he was trying to do the right thing. But it was so damn hard.
Justin pulled his sorry ass off the couch with a sigh and opened the linen closet in the hall.
Why couldn't Knight's sister be old, married, crabby? All of the above would be even better.
The closet wasn't in any better order than the medicine cabinet. Six towels fell on his head when he tried to extract one. Studying the pile, he carefully found the biggest one and rammed the rest back in. This blue one was good. It was like a towel and a half. It would go down to Claire's knees and up to her chin.
He knocked on the bathroom door. "I have a towel for you."
"Come in."
It occurred to him as he pushed the door open that the shower wasn't running any longer. And if the shower wasn't running, she probably wasn't in it. And if she needed a towel, that meant she didn't have one…
It was too late to retreat.
The door was open and Claire was right in front of him. Naked.
"Oh, my God," he said, even as his eyes raced over her body at warp speed.
The view he had was in profile, but it was still a hell of a view. Her hands were in her hair, squeezing it into a ponytail. The movement arched her back and raised her breasts enticingly. Her creamy, pink skin had water rivulets running down it, and every inch was covered in a glossy damp sheen.
As he watched, a droplet hovered on the tip of her nipple for the space of a breath before falling off. He almost moaned, and barely managed to prevent himself from diving to catch that droplet with his tongue.
Claire's ass was tight and high as she reached up, with enough curve that his hand itched to race over it, squeeze, slap.
"Thanks." Claire turned and held her hand out, like there was nothing out of the ordinary happening. Just a stroll in the park here. Naked.
Justin shook the towel open, frantic. "Claire!" He held it in front of her like a tarp, tucking it under her armpits and pushing her arms to her sides so it would stay in place. "Cover up, for God's sake."
"Oh, calm down, por favor. S'il vous plait. Don't be such a prude, Justin." She shook her hair back and tried to unpin her hands.
He held fast. No way was he letting that towel drop. A man only had so much self-control, and his was just about shot.
"A prude? So you think it's okay to just stand around naked in front of anybody? You might give a guy the wrong idea, you know."
She rolled her eyes. "You mean like I'm interested? That I would like to have sex with him?"
"Yes!" Naked pretty much screamed sex to him when you were with a member of the opposite gender and it wasn't a visit to the doctor.
"Then I'm doing it right."
"What?" His ears started ringing. His legs went numb. "What is that supposed to mean?"
"Where have you been? I've had a crush on you since I was eighteen." She licked her very red lips and gave a sensual smile. "I was hoping you would see tonight as the opportunity I do—to see if I've been justified in wanting you all these years."
"What exactly are you suggesting?" Justin was feeling very, very confused. He'd been to a holiday luncheon at his grandmother's nursing home that afternoon. Maybe the eggnog had been bad and he was hallucinating.
But it felt all too real when Claire lifted her arms, taking advantage of his slack hold on her. Two-fisted, she grabbed that towel and jerked it away from her body, and tossed it to the floor. Then leaned right up against him, her hands on his shoulders.
Justin shot his arms out like airplane wings so he wouldn't be tempted to touch.
"I'm suggesting that we spend the night together. In bed. 'Tis the season to give, after all, and what I want … is you."
"Don't you want an iPod instead? That's what everybody else wants."
"I already have one."
Then he was out of arguments.
Maybe he could think better if her breasts weren't pressing into him, and her hips weren't brushing against his. If she wasn't all snuggly and sexy and rubbing just a little in all sorts of interesting places.
But there was nothing going on upstairs. He was Odie, the dog from Garfield. Drooling and excited. So when she kissed him, he didn't even try to stop it.
As far as fantasies springing to life, this was a pretty damn good one.
Claire was totally naked, wet in more ways than one, and kissing Justin Fairbanks, federal agent and first-class hottie.
While never a timid sort of girl, even she was a little surprised by her boldness. But hey, if you wanted something badly enough, you had to reach out and grab it. Literally.
And she really wanted Justin. At least once.
Too bad the kiss only lasted a microsecond. One glorious second during which he kissed her back, and the earth tilted, the heavens burst forth, and a bunch of other metaphorical crap that Claire had thought was made up until her mouth touched his. In that instant, she realized it was—ta da—all true. Then he ruined her girl moment by yanking his lips away and grabbing her forearms. Setting her away from him.
Claire sucked in a breath, disappointed, and waited for him to explain, though she wasn't at all sure she wanted to hear what he was going to say. He looked pained, and not the least turned-on.
Which was bad. Because she was standing there totally and completely naked, and if he rejected her, she was going to stick her head in the sink bowl and drown herself in sheer horror.
"We can't do this. I'm old enough to be your father," he said.
Her knees sank in relief. Okay. Much better than an announcement he was secretly married, gay, or thought she was the most unattractive naked woman he'd ever set eyes on. Better than all of the above, true, and yet so much more incredibly stupid.
Claire leaned back against the counter, the cool marble hitting her backside. She propped herself up with her hands and sucked in her gut, determined to give this one last shot before she slunk off and put on her brother's sweatpants.
"Wow, you must have been a really mature third grader then."
"What do you mean?" Justin looked at the ceiling. At the floor. At a piece of wallpaper that was peeling by the door frame as he kept picking at it. Anywhere but at her.
Dummy. "I mean you're like nine years older than me! That's a little young for fatherhood, even for aggressive kids."
He finally looked at her. Shook his head like he wasn't buying it. "I'm thirty-five. I had a birthday last week."
"Happy birthday. And I have a birthday next week. I'll be twenty-six. See? Nine years. And I'm old enough to know what I want, and I want you. If you're not interested, if you don't find me attractive, then just say so." So she could put her panties on and go home and put an end to her crush once and for all. "I'll live. Just say, 'I'm not interested, Claire.'"
But he didn't say that. He gave her a smoldering look, gaze dropping down to her breasts. "Oh, I'm interested. And I find you more than attractive. You're downright sexy. You're hot as hell."
Oohh. This was working. "And?"
"And I've thought that since the day I met you, all those years ago, when you were way too young for me to be having such nasty thoughts about you."
Even better. "I was in college, I wasn't that young. But that's irrelevant now. The important thing today is that we're both adults. I am old enough, and ready and willing to do anything you want to do. Since you're interested."
Damn, she was getting herself excited. Claire squeezed her legs together tighter and tried to mentally will Justin to move toward her.
"Anything?" he asked in a low voice, looking like he had a few choice ideas in mind.
She nodded, pushing her breasts out a little farther.
"We really shouldn't…" he said, and she knew she had him.
"All right," she said. "That's cool." And reached for the pile of clothes she had put on the toilet seat. "I'm going to get dressed then, I'm getting cold."
"Wait." He grimaced. Ran his fingers through his short hair. "Shit."
"Yes?" she asked innocently, turning to look over her shoulder, well aware he must have an up-close and personal shot of her butt.
"I don't want you to get dressed." He said this like he was begrudgingly admitting to wearing a toupee. With reluctance and shame.
"Justin." Claire suddenly felt like laughing. "You are making such a huge deal out of this. It's okay, I promise. We're consenting adults who have a sexual interest in each other. There's nothing wrong with that."
He just brooded.
"It will be painless. You don't even have to do anything. You can just lie back and I'll do all the work." She gave him a saucy smile.
She meant for him to laugh, but he just frowned.
"I don't get it," he said. "I feel so out of control when I see you. It ticks me off that I want you this much, that I'm so out of control."
Claire stood back up, thinking that personally she liked the idea that she made him lose control. "You've just had a lot of time to want me, that's all. Just like I have with you. That's why I'm doing things I would have never dreamed I would do—like standing here stark naked having an entire conversation. But I have an idea."
"What's that?"
"Go back in the other room. We're going to start this all over." Now that he was reconciled to the idea of sleeping with her, Claire wanted Justin comfortable, feeling in control, even if it was a total illusion.
But the key to a successful seduction was understanding your target. And she had Justin pegged.
Time to let him take the lead.
Chapter Four
Justin should have taken off when he had the chance. Just gotten the hell out of there when Claire sent him into the living room to wait while she stayed in the bathroom.
Because she had emerged looking cute and squeaky clean, her hair in a ponytail, and wearing huge sweatpants and a fleece sweatshirt. It was almost worse than naked because now she looked like a woman after sex. Like she could be his girlfriend and this could be their apartment.
Which meant he must have caught senility at the nursing home, because he had lost his ever lovin' mind.
"Have you eaten dinner?" she asked, acting like nothing unusual had just transpired at all.
"No." He had been contemplating microwaving popcorn for dinner when she had burst into the apartment like a living Popsicle.
"You like pasta? I can throw something together. I'm starving. All I ate was a chocolate truffle when I was shopping."
Justin followed her into the kitchen, not exactly sure what to say. He could tell her to go home. He could let her stay.
He could enjoy what she was offering. Dinner, conversation, sex he was sure would be hot. Was there really any choice there? The question was better put—How dumb was he? "Pasta sounds great."
He wasn't that dumb. He didn't need the action—he had Karen for his physical needs—and Claire wasn't a candidate for the wife/future-mother-of-his-children he was looking for. Claire was something he didn't understand, someone he wanted in a way that was illogical, that had spanned miles and years and some hard living in between.
So it didn't make sense. So it couldn't be anything more than one night.
What was the harm in enjoying just that one night?
Down that road of logic lies the dark side, but Justin was willing to risk it. Claire was right. They were adults. She wanted him, and it was Christmas. In the spirit of giving, he should do this. Better to give sex than to receive it.
Geez, he was a sick bastard.
Justin moved up behind Claire as she filled a pot with water and set it on the stove, turning the burner knob on. He ached to lift that sweatshirt and taste her skin. To suck her nipples into his mouth and to wiggle his fingers into her hot flesh. To have what he'd spent six years wanting.
"It will have to be jarred sauce. Reese and Derek aren't exactly known for having a stocked pantry." She stretched up to reach the cabinet and Justin shook his head.
The hell with it.
"You know, Claire?" Justin gave up. He was going to choke on his lust if he didn't satisfy it. "Let's just hold off on that pasta for a minute."
"What? Why?" She turned and almost collided with him, given that he was hovering a half inch behind her. Startled, she fell backward against the stove and grabbed at her chest. "Jesus, you scared me."
Now that he had mad
e his decision, he couldn't imagine why he'd ever resisted. She looked delicious. All pink and warm and glassy-eyed in the cozy kitchen. Justin cupped both of her cheeks and pulled her mouth to his.
Oh, yeah. He let his eyes drift closed. This was much better than the first time, when he'd been half-stupid with shock. Make that fully stupid.
Now he was all there and all willing to take what he wanted. He tasted her thoroughly, in and out with long, luxurious kisses. She had a full bottom lip, and Justin sucked it between his, letting go when she shuddered.
"Is that all you needed?" she asked on a shaky breath, her fingers gripping his waist.
"Nope." The sweatshirt she was wearing was loose and soft, a nice, inexpensive Hanes Her Way kind of shirt. Justin turned it inside out as he ripped it over her head.
She hadn't bothered to put a bra back on, for which he was extremely grateful. Leaning back just a little to savor the anticipation of touching her chest, he dropped her shirt to the floor. "I need to be inside you. If you've got a problem with that now is your chance to speak up."
Claire fiddled with the button on his jeans, not trying to undo it, just touching it, brushing, playing with it. "No problem at all. You know, I'm not the kind of person to pine over a guy, but I have to admit, in your case I've pined."
Justin cupped her breasts with his hands, enjoying both the feel of her warm, full flesh and the soft moan of encouragement she gave.
"I prefer to call it 'occasionally thinking about with longing.' Same thing, but less adolescent than pining."
"So you did that? Thought about me with longing?" she asked, her head lolling back a little as he moved his thumb over her nipple.
"A number of times." Probably more times than he was willing to admit. Every time he heard Derek's name or saw him, he automatically had thought of Claire. Which would always morph into a disturbing sexual want.
"Mmm, that's sexy, Justin. Now I'm going to stop talking."
"Good plan." Justin bent over and flicked his tongue over her tight nipple.
Anthology - The Night Before Christmas Page 6
