Little sister? She was still laboring under the incorrect assumption that he looked at her like a little sister? Hell, even Tina—who, quite frankly, wasn’t the brightest bulb on the tree—had figured out Hank’s problem. She’d blasted him with the unhappy truth this afternoon after he’d wrongly taken his frustration out on her.
Ironically, the only person who hadn’t deduced the obvious was Samantha.
Hank’s gaze slid to where her hand lay innocently upon his arm. That simple innocuous touch literally made his arm tingle, sent a white-hot bolt of heat straight to his groin.
“What do you mean, you plan to rectify?” Hank asked, ignoring everything else that she’d said.
“Exactly what I said.” She stood, snagged the chicken and moved it to the battered work island. “Since he’s obviously been told not to make a move on me, I’ll just make the move myself.” She shrugged lightly and a secret smile rolled around her lips. “A preemptive strike, so to speak.”
A dull roaring had commenced in his head. He had to unclench his jaw in order to speak, an increasingly frequent occurrence. “If you read that in one of those magazines you brought along with your arsenal of rubbers, then you’re making a grave mistake.” Hank leaned back in his chair and made a valiant effort to look rational. No small feat when every cell in his body had atrophied with dread. “Men don’t like pushy women.”
Samantha neatly butchered the chicken. “Would you get me that buttermilk mixture out of the fridge? And, I won’t be pushy—I’ll be seductive. There’s a difference—” her lips quirked with dry humor “—but then you’ve never been able to appreciate subtlety.”
Hank did as she asked, set the bowl on the island and watched her efficiently slide the chicken into the mixture. Though he knew what had to be done, finding the right words to frame the conversation was proving damned difficult. She was right—subtlety wasn’t his strong suit and, quite honestly, even if it had been, he didn’t think he’d be able to find a subtle way of telling her what he had to say. With any other woman, simply moving into seduction mode would have worked, but he couldn’t do that with Sam—she wasn’t any other woman.
“That’ll need to soak for half an hour,” she said, oblivious to his secret torture. “I’ll go ahead and mix up the flour and spices.” She pulled a cast-iron skillet from the rack above the work island and set it on the stove, then rummaged around in the cabinets until she found the oil.
Hank’s throat went inexplicably dry. This was a whole lot harder than the ever thought it would be. He rubbed the back of his neck. “You know, Sam, I’ve been thinking,” he said, striving for a light tone that by no means matched the lead in his belly.
She hummed a response, presumably still foraging for ingredients.
With effort, Hank swallowed. “J-just how bad do you want that orgasm?”
She snorted darkly. “Bad.”
Hank forced a long-suffering sigh. “Okay, then.”
Samantha chuckled again and shot him a sidelong glance. Those bright green eyes twinkled. “I don’t recall asking for your permission.”
A laugh stuttered out of his throat. He pushed an uncomfortable smile into place and said the one thing guaranteed to change their relationship forever—and it damn sure wasn’t subtle. “I’m not giving it—I’m offering my services.”
8
SAMANTHA MOMENTARILY STILLED, certain that she hadn’t heard him correctly. “What?”
Hank shifted uneasily, shrugged. “I said, I’m offering my services.”
If he’d told her he was a gay, cross-dressing hermaphrodite who was into S&M, she couldn’t have been any more astounded. Samantha blinked, attempted to absorb what he’d just said—which was difficult given the roaring in her head—and the implications of that shocking statement. A rush of conflicting emotions ranging from elation to outrage rushed through her, each of them scrambling for purchase in her suddenly whirling brain.
Luckily self-preservation won out and humor bullied its way forward to save her. He couldn’t be serious. He was simply trying to thwart her again…right? Right, she mentally confirmed, not daring to imagine that he wasn’t. It was too painful, too close to what she’d always wanted, and oh sweet Lord, so very, very tempting.
Samantha chuckled under her breath and shot him a sardonic look. “Your services?”
Hank swallowed again. “Right.”
“What sort of services?” she asked just to torture him. Honestly, she knew he’d had an unreasonable aversion to her taking a lover, but this? This gave a whole new meaning to the old take-one-for-the-team phrase.
He cleared his throat. “Whatever kind you deem necessary.”
Various scenarios of what she would deem necessary obligingly tripped through her mind and in every instance she and Hank were naked. The tops of her thighs tingled and every ounce of moisture evaporated from her mouth. She pulled a bowl from the cabinet and set it on the work island, then dumped a generous amount of flour into the container.
She drew in a shuddering breath, summoned a composure she didn’t feel. “Well, thanks, Hank,” she said for lack of anything better. “That’s truly a unique offer…but I’m afraid I’ll have to pass.”
Hank had leaned against the island, but at her remark he pushed off, seemingly agitated and bewildered. “You’ll pass? Why? Why would you pass? You said you wanted an orgasm and I’ve offered to give you one. Hell, I’ll give you a dozen. Why in God’s name would you pass?”
“Because you’re being an idiot,” she said flatly. Why was he doing this? Did he have any idea how painful this was for her?
His eyes widened. “An idiot?”
“Yes,” she said, exasperated. She shook salt, pepper and a little paprika into the mix and began to stir it up. Flour poofed out of the bowl, evidence of her agitation. “An idiot. The whole point of me finding a lover for myself is just that—finding someone for myself who wants to be with me. I’m touched that you’re willing to…sacrifice yourself like this, but I assure you, it’s not necessary.” She snorted, unwilling to look at him. She set the spoon aside and crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m not interested in being your pity-project, Hank.” Or, more accurately, a pity-fuck.
“Who said anything about a pity-project? It’s simple and you’re making it complicated. You want an orgasm, then I’ll give you one,” Hank insisted heatedly, jabbing himself in the chest for emphasis. “Me, dammit. No one else.”
Good grief, if she didn’t know better she’d swear he sounded downright possessive. Jealous even. Though she knew it was pure folly on her part, she couldn’t help but be a little flattered, couldn’t help but wish it were true.
“Well, that’s really not up to you, now is it?”
“Sam—”
She exhaled mightily. “Hank, listen. This is really not necessary. It’s not. You’re taking all of this entirely too seriously. If I’d known you were going to be so damned overwrought, I wouldn’t have told you my plans. Listen to yourself,” she told him. “Are you even hearing what you’re saying?”
“Yes, dammit, I am,” he returned hotly. “Are you?”
Samantha chuckled under her breath. “I’m hearing it, but I’m not believing it.”
Hank shoved a hand through his hair. “Why the hell not?”
She couldn’t believe they were having this conversation. Frustration peaked. “Haven’t you listened to anything I’ve told you?” Samantha all but wailed. “I want to be with someone who wants me. If I just wanted an orgasm without desire, I could masturbate—like you so helpfully pointed out—or hire a lover. In fact, I even considered it. But that’s—”
His expression blackened with outrage. “Hire a lover—”
“—not what I want,” she continued doggedly. “I want to be wanted, Hank,” Samantha told him and resisted the urge to howl. “And we both know that you don’t want me—you just don’t want me to be with anyone else.”
Hank came around the island and stood next to her. She could fe
el the heat rolling off him in waves, could feel his frustration pinging her like sonar. “You’re only half right,” he said softly, his voice a deep decadent rumble.
Samantha stilled and the storm that had been steadily brewing inside her quieted. Her heart rate geared into overdrive. “What are you talking about? What part did I get wrong?”
Hank grasped her shoulders and turned her around to face him. “The part where you said that I don’t want you.”
Her foolish heart leapt—a heart usually did before it broke. She swallowed tightly. “Don’t lie. You don’t have to do this.”
An anguished laugh burst from his throat and those sea-blue eyes gleamed with abject desperation. “Sam, I’m not lying. I’ve wanted you for…forever. For years.”
For years? Sam thought, utterly stunned. But she didn’t dare let herself believe him. That road led to madness and heartache—hers. She shook her head. “This is ridiculous,” she said faintly, barely able to summon the strength to speak. “Why are you doing this? Why are you telling me all this? Why now? If you wanted me before, why didn’t you ever say anything?”
Hank sobered. “Because I didn’t want to jeopardize our friendship.”
“But you do now?” She didn’t have any trouble believing the reason—she’d kept her feelings to herself for the very same argument. But she still didn’t get it. What made now different? If it were true—and God how she wished it were—then what had happened to make him admit his feelings now? A frown wriggled between her brows. It just didn’t make any sense. Was too much to take in.
“No, I don’t—your friendship means everything to me, Sam. It always has. But I can’t let you do this. Not here. Not now. Not with anybody else. I know it’s crazy, but I— I can’t turn it off. I haven’t been able to turn it off since the summer you turned eighteen.” A broken laugh stuttered out of his mouth. “Hell, I almost kissed you. Don’t you remember?”
Sam nodded, swallowed. Of course she remembered. She’d never been able to forget. “But you didn’t. You stopped.”
“Well, it wasn’t because I wanted to, believe me. I wanted to kiss you more than anything.” His gaze dropped to her mouth and traced her lips, making a quivery sensation flutter through her belly. “Still do. That fruity scent of yours drives me nuts,” he all but growled. “I look at you and all I can think about is…giving you that orgasm you want.” His nostrils flared as he dragged in a harsh breath. “I can’t stand the thought of any other guy touching you. It makes my skin itch, makes me want to put my fist through a wall.” He paused. “You want to know why, but there’s really no why to this, Sam. Believe me,” he laughed darkly, shook his head. “I’ve tried to figure it out. It just is.”
He was wrong, Samantha thought as her well-thought-out plan got sucked into the confusing chaos of this moment.
There was a why, he just didn’t know it—the sex diet.
A finger of dread prodded her belly and what little air had made it into her lungs stuttered out in a soundless gasp of alarm. He might have wanted her before, but he’d always been able to keep it in check. Had never acted on the attraction.
Until now.
Until she’d practically turned herself into a walking pheromone.
Samantha couldn’t decide whether to be disappointed or thrilled, couldn’t make her brain assemble anything close to a coherent thought, much less a solution. She didn’t know what to do, what to say. She was utterly flabbergasted, completely at a loss. The fact that he’d wanted her for almost as long as she’d wanted him should have been a coup, a moment of glory, and yet it wasn’t because she’d essentially tricked him into confessing his feelings. If she hadn’t gone on this sex diet, would he have ever told her the truth? He’d managed to keep it to himself for years in order to safeguard their friendship, but he was throwing caution to the wind now? Was willing to jeopardize that friendship now?
“Well?” Hank asked impatiently.
Samantha blinked, yanked from her fractured thoughts, and looked up. “Well what?”
A faint, vulnerable smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “What do you think? I’ve bared my soul here, Sam. You can’t just leave me hanging.”
“I, uh… I don’t know, Hank.” She sighed, shoved a shaky hand through her hair. “There’s a lot to consider.”
His smile faded somewhat. “Like whether or not you’re attracted to me?”
An ironic chuckle fizzed up her throat before she could check it. Jeez, she was obviously a much better actress than she’d ever given herself credit for if he thought that was the reason she didn’t jump on his offer. Jump him, for that matter.
The minute his confession had registered, every cell in her body had gone warm and a sluggish heat had begun to wind through her limbs. A steady pulse beat at the apex of her thighs and she’d had to make a concerted effort to keep her gaze away from his unbelievably carnal mouth. Her nipples had hardened and presently strained against the flimsy fabric of her bra. She’d like nothing better than to shed said bra, swiftly remove his shirt and rub her aching nipples across his powerfully muscled chest.
“No,” Samantha said, neatly avoiding that land mine question. “I was thinking about our friendship.”
Hank rocked back lightly on his heels and a smidge of his former confidence clung to his renewed smile. “So you are attracted to me, then?”
Sam felt her lips twitch. He had the tenacity of a bulldog with a soup bone and seemed determined to pry the truth out of her. “You’re missing the point. What you’re suggesting would permanently alter our relationship.”
He sobered, blew out a breath. “Samantha, I permanently altered our relationship when I told you how I felt. It’ll always be there between us now. I’m sorry if I’ve made you uncomfortable…but I just couldn’t let you do this.” He emitted a low frustrated growl and his gaze caressed her lips. “It’s making me crazy.”
He was right, she knew. Yet still she hesitated. She chewed her bottom lip. “Be that as it may, it’s still a lot to consider, Hank.”
“Fine,” Hank told her. “But consider this while you’re at it.”
Before she could form any sort of reply, Hank stepped forward, gently framed her face with his tanned hands, and swiftly lowered his mouth to hers.
An electric shock of pleasure hummed up her spine and her lips parted in a delighted oh of surprise, which Hank immediately used to his advantage. He simultaneously slid his tongue into her mouth and shifted closer to her, burying his fingers in her hair and angling her head so that he could slant his lips more firmly over hers.
Swept up in a tornado of instant sensation, Samantha’s knees buckled and she melted against him. A flash of heat shot up her legs and pooled in her sex.
His kiss was everything she’d ever dreamed it would be and more.
Hot and thrilling, dark and seductive. He fed and suckled, teased, nipped and plundered. He tasted like beer and sin, of forbidden pleasures and dreams come true. His woefully familiar frame pressed against hers, fusing her to him from ankle to mouth and it felt so right, so heart-wrenchingly perfect. She’d waited a lifetime for this moment and it had been unquestionably worth the wait.
Samantha kissed him back, put every ounce of repressed longing into the melding of their mouths, every iota of feeling she possessed. She chased his tongue with hers, played a heady game of seek and retreat. His scent, an intriguing combination of beach and man, rushed into her nostrils, drugged her, made every part of her body sing with need.
She slid her hands up and over his chest, felt him tremble beneath her palms, then slid them farther still, up over his heavily muscled shoulders and into the silky hair at his nape. She ate his sigh, savored it on her tongue, felt a hard bulge prod against her belly and the realization sent an intoxicating feminine rush of power flooding through her because she knew what it meant.
He wanted her—truly wanted her.
The knowledge burrowed into her heart, made her eyes water with sweet emotion.
Before she could get too caught up in the sentiment, Hank deepened the kiss, slowed it down, yet made it all the more intensifying, lush and provocative. He made a low, growling sound, a masculine purr of pleasure that vibrated something deep inside of her, made her press herself more tightly against him, made her squirm in her skin, made a hot, itchy heat concentrate in her womb and pulse in her moist sex. Her palms tingled and every inch of her body softened as languid ribbons of tangled need and heat wove through her.
That orgasm she so desperately needed hovered just barely out of reach. She suppressed a whimper and absently rubbed the back of her itching wrist across Hank’s collar.
Hank murmured a nonsensical sound against her lips, part groan, part growl and sucked her bottom lip. He anchored one hand around her waist, drawing her even closer, then slid his hand up her side, over her quivering ribs and ultimately settled it gently over her breast. “I can make you come right now,” he told her. “Just say yes.”
Oh, God, how she wanted to. A sigh stuttered out of her mouth and into his as the exquisite sensation eddied through her. She pushed her achy nipple farther into his palm and whimpered when he thumbed it through her shirt.
“I’ll give you every kind of orgasm you can imagine, as many as you want, I promise.” He licked her neck, creating a blaze of sensation. “Starting right now. Say yes.”
Samantha whimpered, strained toward him, lifted her foot and used her toe to nudge an itch above her opposite ankle. A fleeting grimace of irritation in the midst of the most pleasurable sensation in her life. He was offering her everything she’d ever wanted—him. And he was right. The moment he’d told her how he felt, their relationship changed. She wanted— She needed—
Hank found her mouth once more, kissed her deeply. His hand left her breast and slowly trekked toward her weeping sex. He slipped his hand beneath her waistband, then beneath her panties, and the first brush of those talented fingers against her drenched curls made a startled cry break from her lips.
The Sex Diet Page 9
