Sneaking a Peek

by Eden Summers

  A smirk settled across his lips. “I see.”

  Embarrassment firmly grabbed her by the short and curlies under his appraisal. “No!”

  She should have played dumb, acting as though she didn’t have a clue what he referred to, but her brain throbbed too much to think clearly. She shook her head, adamant, then immediately regretted the action. “I was talking on the phone and lost balance.”

  He raised his eyebrows before turning his gaze to search the porch deck. She heard Kristen’s distant voice coming from the phone. If only her vision would focus back to twenty-twenty, she would be able to see it.

  Ethan found the small cell first, picking it up from its position a few feet away. Before she formed a protest, he lifted it to his ear. “Hey, hey, settle down,” he ordered. “She’s fine.” He paused. “From what I can gather, she fell backward on her stable four-legged chair.”

  Tarney suppressed a groan over his taunting smile. With the limited light, his dark blue eyes seemed almost black, their mesmerizing depths hypnotizing her—or maybe that was just a concussion.

  He studied her face while he listened to whatever Kristen had to say. “Yeah, I have a fair idea of what happened.” His gaze strayed back to his exercise room, and he fell silent again, his breathing now steadier. “Yep, I’ll be sure to look after her, don’t worry… Bye.”

  Without consulting her first, Ethan ended the call and placed the phone in his pocket. “How ’bout we get you inside so I can check you over.”

  Tarney averted her gaze, guilt and shame making her cringe. The perverted neighbor game wasn’t fun when you were caught red…er…sticky fingered in her case.

  She didn’t bother answering him as she gripped the chair arms and stood. A slice of fire shot through her foot and she fell back into the seat, hissing in pain. She clutched around the burning area, trying to find the glass embedded in her sole.

  “Shit,” Ethan cursed. “There’s glass everywhere.”

  “My wineglass.” She waved her hand at the mess. “It smashed when I fell.”

  Wow, not only a voyeur, now she was completely devoid of intellectual conversation as well. Thank goodness he had his sneakers on. She would never forgive herself if Ethan hurt himself because of her depravity.

  He didn’t give her time to pretend or object before he placed an arm under her knees, the other behind her back. With effortless determination, he lifted her and strode toward the front door. She should have protested or at least given a lackluster complaint at being man handled, but there was no point. Ethan probably knew she wanted to cling to him like a little monkey. If it weren’t for the whole best-friend’s-brother situation, she would have made her interest known a hell of a long time ago. Now, she would keep her mouth shut and enjoy the ride while it lasted.

  As they approached the door, Tarney reached out and turned the handle, then flicked on the living room light. The sudden brightness forced her eyes closed, and instinctively she tilted her face into his chest to darken the onslaught—or that’s what she told herself.

  She should have been grossed out by the stickiness of his skin, but her desire to nuzzle further into him was more distressing. Was she really that desperate? She supposed she always had been for Ethan. Even though ten years had passed since their one chaste kiss, he still sat at the top of her spank bank.

  And boy did he smell good. After a twelve-hour shift at the fire station and a steamy work out, he still smelled intoxicating. If she wasn’t mistaken, he actually wore the aftershave she’d given him for his thirtieth birthday. The combination of citrus, sandalwood, ash, and sweat made her close her eyes in pleasure and take another deep breath.

  He walked into the kitchen, placed her on the counter, and flipped on the light.

  “Okay, let me give you a thorough once over,” he said with a wicked gleam in his eye. Or had she just imagined that? Damn, his near nakedness was forcing her to lose focus. “Shit, your hand’s bleeding too.”

  As she lifted her hand, he clutched it in both his palms and leaned in closer to inspect the scratches. The feel of his calluses and the proximity of his kissable lips made her giddy. Any normal person would have been concerned with the tiny pieces of glass embedded in their flesh, but she couldn’t take her eyes off him.

  The rough pad of his thumb trailed over the back of her hand while he tilted it from side to side. The caress tickled her sensitive skin, heating her blood, making her draw in a shallow breath.

  “Does it hurt?” he asked, glancing back at her face.

  “No.” She shook her head and wondered if lying would have been better.

  He kept eye contact as his thumb continued to stroke her hand, the action now a deliberate caress. He stepped closer and she had to bite her lip to remain calm. His hip rubbed against her thigh. Her teeth sunk harder with every loving touch, their gaze connected the entire time. She fought not to look away, unwilling to show weakness and give him any hint of her feelings, but a slow smile tilted his lips.

  “Does it hurt now?” he asked, his tone rough and seductive.

  “No.” She shook her head again and sighed, trying to pretend his touch didn’t make her uncomfortably wet.

  He grinned. “So…what’s with the heavy breathing?”

  Tarney’s eyes widened. She hadn’t expected him to be so blunt and said the first thing that came to mind. “I don’t like blood. And I’m frustrated. I didn’t want to be rude by telling you to cut the Doogie Howser routine, but since you’re being a smart ass, can you hurry the hell up so I can get back to my relaxing evening?”

  He raised his eyebrows and nodded in mock understanding. “Sorry, I didn’t realize you were in a rush to get back to what you were doing.” He switched his gaze back to her hand and his lips began to twitch in what she suspected was suppressed laughter. “So what’s so exciting about sitting in the dark and drinking by yourself?”

  She glared at his downcast eyes and his cheeks lifted, his smile widening.

  “It relaxes me,” she said. The bastard knew she’d been spying, but she would die before admitting it. “Can’t you just slap a Band-Aid on and be done with it?”

  “Yes ma’am. Are they in your bathroom?”

  Tarney opened her mouth to say yes, but thought better of it. He may have been in her house on more occasions than she remembered, but in her irrational mood she didn’t want him spying through all her medicines and girlie stuff. She already felt naked and exposed. She didn’t need him to put on a damn Band-Aid. He was only prolonging the process to draw out her embarrassment.

  “Forget it,” she grumbled, pushing off the counter.

  Her toes were about to touch the floor when he lunged forward in panic. “Wait!”

  The warning came too late. She’d already stepped down on the glass in the bottom of her foot. Her knees buckled from the sudden pain. Before she fell to the floor, he gripped her arms and hauled her up.

  “Fuck, Tarney, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to piss you off.”

  He placed her back on the counter, and she pulled her foot to her lap, turning it over to examine the cause of the pain. The glass didn’t seem very big, only a quarter of an inch wide. She would have expected the mother trucker to be the size of a small dog from the agony it caused. Maybe it was long and thin and embedded half way through her foot.

  “Don’t touch it, I’ll be back in a sec,” he ordered and sprinted for the front door.

  Less than five minutes later, he returned, arms full of supplies and a sleeveless Rangers jersey covering all that sinful flesh.

  “Let me look at it,” he demanded, grabbing her foot in his hand.

  The time alone had done nothing to soothe her wounded pride, so like an indignant child she drew her foot back. It may be a big joke for him to have women fawning over him twenty-four seven, but unrequited lust wasn’t all that enjoyable for the loser in the situation. There was only so much self-love she could partake in before it became depressing. She fixed him with a death stare in an attempt
to release some frustration.

  “Look, I said I’m sorry,” he added. His gaze caught hers, pleading, and she wanted to believe him.

  Tarney scrutinized him, her heart becoming a traitorous bitch as it started to flutter. With a huff she relaxed her foot into the warmth of his hands. He knelt on the floor to take a better look, caressing her ankle, his fingers making small circles over her skin, which felt entirely sexual. If he didn’t stop soon, she would end up sliding off the counter in her own wet puddle.

  “You know, babe, if you wanted to watch me work out, all you had to do was ask.”

  Bastard!

  His sincerity had lasted five seconds, and now his attitude was back in cocky male flair.

  She pulled her foot back, tempted to kick him in his perfect face, but he gripped her tight, not letting her budge. Instead, she growled, “You know what Ethan, just forget it. You can take your oversized ego and go home. I can take care of myself.”

  He chuckled, the deep timbre of his voice annoying and arousing at the same time. “Come on, babe. You may have had enough of me, but I’m far from finished with you.”

  Tarney jerked back in surprise. Their relationship had always been on the flirty side, but his statement seemed different, bolder. Decisive. Did he want to take things to the next level too?

  Her mind went wild with the possibilities. She wanted to reach up and brush away the stray pieces of hair dangling over his eyes. To watch his lips part when she leaned in for a kiss. To graze his crotch with her leg and see how he would react.

  Christ. She needed a cold shower and the remainder of the Moscato.

  A sharp sting forced her attention back to her foot, and she winced at the tiny sliver Ethan raised with his tweezers. Damn. All that pain for one miniscule piece of glass.

  His fingers caressed her sole like they had her hand. This time, the tickling sensations ran all the way up her leg and shot straight to her pussy. She closed her eyes, biting the inside of her cheek until she tasted blood. Holy moly. She needed to get Ethan out of her house, and out of stroking distance, before she went all psycho molester on his ass, before the fireworks in Chinatown became too hard to ignore, or before she started grabbing at his hose to put her fire out.

  Chapter Two

  Ethan made sure there were no more glass shards in Tarney’s foot before he cleaned the area with an antiseptic swab. His heart rate began to slow, his tension easing as the strong clinical scent took away the potent smell of her arousal. He’d already been breathing shallow through his mouth for the last ten minutes, trying to keep his mind off the delicious musk penetrating his senses, and to calm his hunger before he sunk his face between her thighs.

  For fuck’s sake, he needed to focus on her injuries.

  She was lucky the glass hadn’t been any bigger. Stitches wouldn’t be necessary, and the cuts on her hands were merely scratches. He tried to play it cool—now—but he’d been pretty jumpy over her accident. What if she’d landed on the wineglass and nicked an artery?

  Placing two butterfly bandages over the affected area on her sole, he took his time, letting his fingers linger on her skin. He didn’t want to stop touching her, not tonight, not ever. He released her foot and stood between her toned legs, positioning his body as close as possible while he cleaned her hand with another swab.

  What would she think about the massive hard-on he was sporting behind his shorts? If he hadn’t grabbed a loose shirt on his sprint back out of his house, there would be no way to hide his interest. Would she quit her sulking if she knew how much he wanted to taste her?

  At the moment, she wouldn’t even look him in the eye, her gaze constantly focused elsewhere—at the sink, over his shoulder, on her hand.

  “Are you finished yet?” Her tone was gruff, but he had a feeling it was more to do with the hot sex vibes buzzing between them instead of her need to get back to “relaxing.”

  “Almost,” he lied.

  He didn’t plan on being finished for a long time. She would learn that soon enough.

  When he was done with the scratches on her hand, he glanced at her face. Yep, her gaze still focused over his shoulder. Time to catch her attention.

  Slowly he ran his hands up her arms, his fingers gradually gliding over her skin, moving over her wrists, up to her elbows, pausing at her shoulders.

  “What are you doing?” She frowned, her head tilting to look him in the eye.

  Bingo.

  “Just making sure there’s no glass anywhere else.”

  He watched the way she swallowed deep, but kept eye contact. Her eyes widened, the brown irises turning darker as he moved his hands higher, up her neck, around her nape. He found the band holding her hair in a ponytail and gently pulled, gliding it down the long honey lengths until they fell loosely down her back. With her chin held high, she followed his movements, her breathing shallow, becoming labored.

  “Now, I just need to check your head wound.”

  Her eyes closed, her head sinking into his touch while his fingers ran through her hair, over her scalp. Leaning in closer, he bridged the gap. He may not be able to assuage his need to taste her—not yet, but he could no longer resist inhaling her captivating essence. He didn’t know if it was her hair, her perfume, or a combination of both along with her luscious arousal—the scents a subtle mix of sweet flowers, musk, and vanilla. Fuck. He wanted to lick her neck to see if she tasted as good as she smelled.

  With unsteady fingers, he explored her scalp, focusing on pleasure instead of the need to check her wound. She shifted, and he glanced down to see her hands now gripping the counter, her knuckles bleaching white. He traced across a small lump on the back of her skull, and she winced.

  “Sorry,” he whispered into her ear, clenching his fists in her hair.

  The need to sink into her became unrelenting, driving him insane. The fight with temptation too strong. It was wrong. The timing wasn’t perfect. However, the opportunity may never arise again.

  He leaned in close to her lips, taking precious seconds to observe her contented expression—her closed eyelids, her mouth tilted up as if in search of his. Then, without a second thought, he kissed her.

  She saturated him, infused him, making him harder than stone. She started at the contact, her head jerking back. He didn’t allow her retreat, gripping her hair tighter, his hands holding her firm. With purpose, he licked the seam of her lips, starving for a taste. She opened her mouth, moaning, the sweet breath seeping into him as her tongue found his.

  He burned with hunger. The need to take her turned from a lustful urge to a compulsion, an all-consuming ache in his chest.

  Releasing his hold, he untangled his fingers from her hair and traced his hands down her back. When he reached her ass, he clutched hard and was rewarded with a gasp. Tarney clung to him, and he was convinced he would never want to let her go.

  He pulled her close, living out his fantasy by fitting their bodies together like puzzle pieces. Her legs stretched around him, and he followed the movements with his palms, guiding them high around his waist. Clenching her thighs, she gripped him tight while he trailed his hands back up her legs to her butt.

  He didn’t stop kissing her, devouring her, and she kissed him back with equal measure. How could he get enough of this? There would never be enough. Holding her close, he began to rub against her, the hardness of his cock grinding between her thighs.

  Ethan separated their bodies slightly, allowing his fingers to walk their way up the bare length of her legs, pausing when they reached the hem of her shorts. He broke the kiss and pulled back to watch her reaction, to watch those expressive eyes and see if she would pull away while he took a detour underneath the material. Would she ask him to stop?

  Her throat convulsed as he pushed his hand up the inside of her thigh. Her eyes rolled back when he gave one quick swipe at her entrance with his fingers through her drenched panties.

  Fuck, she was so wet. No wonder he could smell her heat.

  W
hen he traveled underneath the soaked material, she pressed her lips firmly together, watching—waiting. He didn’t want her to hold back, couldn’t stand the thought of her suppressing her cries of pleasure. He leaned in and brushed his mouth against her earlobe. “I want to hear you moan my name.” And as she moaned in reply he sunk two fingers deep.

  Tarney didn’t disappoint. Her head fell back, her spine arching, her breasts rubbing against his chest, her groans filling his ears. He found her clit with his thumb and began to rub back and forth. When she gyrated against him, he slid his fingers inside her, working in and out. She was so beautiful—the way she convulsed against his hand, her soft mewls of pleasure, the way her eyes drifted shut in carnal bliss. The most beautiful thing in the world was the small spasms against his hand and her eyes when they opened in surprise. “Ethan…” she panted.

  The sound of his name on her lips sent a shiver of weakness down his spine to grab him firmly by the balls. Fuck. He needed to get her naked. Now.

  Without an ounce of finesse, he pulled his fingers out of her tight sheath, wanting to get her to the bedroom in an instant. Before he gripped her ass to pull her body around his, he ran his wet fingers against her lips, watched as her eyes widened, then took her mouth with his, releasing all the aggression he’d been withholding.

  She tasted of heaven and hell—the sweetest delicacy and the strongest temptation.

  He lifted her off the counter, and she encased his neck in her arms. “What are you doing?” Her lips were ruby red from his kisses, her expression a mix of arousal and shock.

  “I’m about to make love to you.”

  * * *

  Tarney’s mouth gaped open and she stared blankly at Ethan. She must have passed out when she bumped her head, and this was the best sex dream ever. It didn’t seem possible to be in Ethan’s arms, enjoying the eagerness of his mouth, his fingers—oh, those talented fingers.

  The confusion made her slightly hysterical, and she struggled for breath. She began panting into their kiss with staccato bursts of air.