Sensual Secrets

by Jo Leigh

  After dropping her purse and jacket, Jay kissed her again. No tongue—just hello. “You want a drink?”

  She nodded.

  “I’ve got white wine. Come on.”

  He led her to the kitchen. Way before she got there, a heavenly scent made her aware that she hadn’t eaten since morning. She murmured approval, and he grinned.

  “It’s ready whenever we are. Chicken, baked potatoes, green beans.”

  “You cook, too?”

  “Not exactly.”

  “Oh, that’s right. Shawn said it wasn’t your, uh, forte.”

  “Hey, I can’t be great at everything.”

  She laid her palm flat on his chest. “As long as you’re great at the right things…”

  He chuckled, then turned to get the wine, but not before she saw the flush on his cheeks. Well, what do you know? Bad-boy extraordinaire Jay Wagner had blushed over a sexual innuendo she’d made. What a rush. She wanted to do it again.

  She let her gaze move up his body slowly, until she caught his eye. “I know what I want for dessert,” she said, then blinked at her forwardness. What had he done to her? Where was shy, I’d-rather-die-than-be-teased Amelia?

  “You do, huh?”

  She nodded.

  “Damn, I hope you don’t mean chocolate cake.”

  She grinned. “So, you said you’d tell me about yesterday.”

  He nodded and poured the wine. After handing her a glass, he nodded toward the living room. As she passed him, she ran her hand across his back. She felt brave. More daring than she’d ever believed she could be. She loved what she was when she was with him. It was incredibly erotic, and she wanted more. She wanted all of it.

  “It wasn’t a big deal,” he said. “I had to go to Connecticut to pick up a bike.”

  “I’m sorry I wasn’t able to go.”

  “Me, too. I still owe you a ride.”

  “Don’t worry,” she said. “I won’t let you forget.”

  He sipped his wine, studied her as she walked to the window. She’d thrown him, she could see it in his expression. Did he have any idea how turned on she was? Her gaze slipped down to his pants.

  Oh.

  Jay caught her checking him out. He put his glass down, afraid he’d spill it. He still wasn’t used to this Amelia. But he liked her. A lot.

  This was the woman from her journals. The writer of the hottest fantasies he’d ever read. Okay, so maybe he shouldn’t have read her journal, but he couldn’t say he was sorry. Not tonight. Not watching the way she held herself. Confident. Sexy. Powerful.

  He wanted her more than ever. But he had to let her make the first move. Despite her big talk, he still wasn’t sure she’d want to take it to the next level. He could only hope, and pray that if she didn’t, he’d survive.

  He sat down, wanting her to join him, but she stayed at the window. His gaze moved down her body, and lingered when he got to the soft swell of her behind. Patience had always been his strong suit when it came to women. But not with Amelia. He remembered one of the first things he’d read in her journal, the first time he’d realized he was the star of her fantasies. So sex has a name.

  AMELIA FELT HIS GAZE on her, felt his pull, but she needed to slow things down a bit. This was major, and it was her call, and she was going to do it right.

  She focused on the street, the people five stories below. So many of them. Not like rush hour, but more than she’d have guessed at eight. Coming out of the subway, standing in line at the pizza place, talking on cell phones. All of them oblivious to the inescapable fact that she was about to have sex.

  She shifted her vision from the street to his reflection in the window. The look on his face made her squeeze her legs together.

  She put her glass down on the window ledge, then leaned forward, her hands on the thick-painted white windowsill. She moved her legs shoulder-distance apart, and let her head droop forward, her hair hanging down in long waves. She closed her eyes and listened to the New York night bustling and wailing. Then she listened to him. His hot heavy breath telling her he’d noticed how very short her skirt was, and how incredibly available she was for the taking.

  Part of her wanted to stop. To have dinner, like the good girl she was supposed to be. Flirt a little, chat a little, then make out on the couch until they couldn’t take it anymore. After all, the bed was the logical place to make love for the first time.

  The rest of her wanted to be bad. To be the woman in her fantasies. He was the only man in the world she’d ever dare this with. He gave her permission. Or perhaps she just gave herself permission.

  It didn’t matter. She wasn’t even sure she could pull it off, but dammit, she wanted to try. All those nights in her lonely bed, dreaming of seduction and sex. All those mornings she’d gone out with her hair pulled back, no makeup, and those big, awful clothes.

  No more hiding. No more blending in with the woodwork. She wasn’t sure what would happen next, but she was sure that no matter what, she wasn’t going to let fear stop her.

  “Amelia?”

  “Hmm?”

  “What are you doing?”

  His voice seemed closer. She looked at his reflection, and sure enough, he now stood at the edge of the couch, about five feet away. “I’m watching.”

  “I see.”

  “No, you don’t. You can’t see from all the way over there.”

  His low chuckle made her bite her lower lip. God, she wanted him. And God, she was scared.

  He didn’t make a sound as he walked up behind her. She tensed, anticipating his touch. Aching to feel him. Her gaze moved to her nipples, hard underneath the knit top. Touch me.

  Her lips parted when his hand snaked around her side and pressed into her belly. The other hand slid up her spine to the back of her neck, holding her steady. “What are you doing to me?”

  “You already asked me that.”

  He rubbed against her, showing her just how her little game was affecting him. “This is what you’re doing.”

  She rubbed him back. “I know.”

  “If you don’t stop—”

  She turned around, dislodging his hands. “I don’t want to stop.”

  “Amelia—”

  She put her hands on her tummy, then moved them slowly toward her breasts. His gaze shifted, and she watched his eyes dilate as her palms moved to her nipples. “I want this,” she whispered.

  “Oh God.”

  She moved her fingers to the hard little nubs, and squeezed them. If he didn’t do something soon, she was going to faint.

  She needn’t have worried. He brushed her cheek with his knuckle, then his hand was next to hers on her breast. His eyes closed as he touched her, but they snapped open when he felt her tug at his belt.

  “Are you sure?” he asked, his voice a gruff whisper that sounded like sex.

  She nodded. “You can’t imagine.”

  “Oh, I can.”

  She leaned forward until her lips were close to his ear. “Don’t you dare be nice,” she whispered.

  He took hold of her arms and pushed her back so he could see her face.

  She nodded. Yes, she was sure. Yes, she meant it. And yes, he’d better do it right now.

  He pulled her into a kiss that bruised, that set fire to her insides. His hand went back into her hair—only, this time, the gloves were off, and he held her steady and took possession of her body.

  While he kissed her, his other hand moved down her hip to the hem of her ridiculously short skirt. Hot fingers touched her inner thigh, then slid to rub along the crotch of her panties, as if she were his pet cat.

  His tongue thrust deep and hard, and he slipped those same fingers inside the rim of her panties. Time slowed as his finger eased into the slipperiness between her warm lips. Her heart raced and her breath grew shallow as she whimpered with pleasure and relief. He found her clit unerringly, and began slow, perfect circles designed to bring her to her knees.

  He pulled back from the kiss, still
holding her by the hair. “Take off your shirt, Amelia.”

  Just hearing him say the words in that husky voice made her tremble, and immediately obey. He let go of her hair, but not her sex.

  She pulled the shirt off, dropped it where she stood. His gaze moved down to her bra—white satin, with a clasp in front—and his lips curved into a wicked smile.

  “Show me,” he said.

  “What?”

  “What you want me to see.”

  She sighed, not just from his sly touch, but from the way he understood her. Nothing had ever been this hot. This thrilling.

  She cupped her breasts, then flicked her own nipples still underneath the satin bra. His nostrils flared as she found the clasp and eased it open. She didn’t bare herself yet. His finger on her center stopped moving. She frowned, looked at him. And his look explained the game plan.

  She peeled back her bra, revealing her pale breasts with their hard, aching nipples.

  His finger resumed its maddening circles. Her head fell back as she let the bra slide down her arms.

  “Touch them,” he said.

  She did. She rubbed them the way she did when she was alone. When she wasn’t being a good girl at all. The more she played, the faster he teased her. She smiled. Immediate gratification. Yes.

  “Take off your skirt.”

  She paused, opened her eyes to see him, and while their gazes locked, she unzipped the skirt. She thought he’d move his hand, but he didn’t. She had no choice but to lift the skirt up all the way over her head. Then she let it drop.

  She stood before him, in white satin panties and black high heels.

  “You’re exquisite,” he whispered.

  She lowered her gaze, suddenly shy.

  “The most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

  She didn’t know how to respond, except to touch him. To show him that she wanted to see him, too.

  He made her do all the work. She didn’t mind. Not when he was making her feel so very good.

  She got his belt open, then found his zipper. The pressure of his erection made things a bit tricky, but she managed. The whole time, he stared at her, thrumming with tension.

  Slowly, because she wanted it to last and because he was making her clumsy and dizzy with the pressure of his finger, she lowered his pants until they dropped to pool at his feet. He wore black silk boxers that didn’t do a thing to disguise his condition.

  Even from this perspective, through his boxers, she could see he was magnificent. She hadn’t realized when she’d seen him in the mirror. But he was…intimidating. Not enough to stop her, of course, but it did sober her a bit.

  She rubbed him through the soft material, making him breath deeply. His control surprised her. He never stopped rubbing her, even when she hooked his waistband in her hands and eased the shorts down over his erection.

  She froze when she saw him for the first time. Large, thick, hot. To have that inside her…

  As if he’d read her mind, his finger moved farther back, then dipped inside.

  She gasped with the intrusion, and he groaned as he thrust his finger in and in.

  “Touch me,” he said.

  Her hand moved to his thick flesh. She wasn’t sure what to do first, so she took his shaft in her hand.

  As she explored him, he drew his wet finger from the lips between her legs and brought it up her belly leaving a long, musky, moist trail. He traced a line between her breasts to the hollow at the base of her throat, to her chin, her lower lip, and she took the finger into her mouth, tasting herself on his fingertip.

  He jerked in her hand, and a drop of pearly liquid glistened at the tip. She wanted to taste him. Letting his finger go, she lowered herself until she rested on her knees, his erection right there. Leaning forward slowly, she touched her tongue to the bead, then closed her eyes. Bitter, salty, strange. The taste wasn’t what she had expected.

  She liked it. She liked that it wasn’t sweet or bland, that it was like no other taste. She liked that she’d remember it forever.

  “I can’t…”

  She looked up. “You can’t what?”

  “Stand it.”

  “What do you want?”

  “You.”

  “Then, take me.”

  He cursed, grabbed her by the arms and pulled her to her feet, braced her against the wall. He kissed her relentlessly while he took hold of her legs. Lifting her as if she weighed nothing, he brought her off her feet, her legs around his waist.

  She cried out even before he entered her. She could feel him tremble as he controlled his movements, and even though she was afraid it would hurt, she didn’t want him controlled. She broke away from his kiss. “Don’t be nice,” she whispered again, making him understand.

  He thrust inside her, all the way, filling her with his heat. It did hurt, but only for a moment. Then there was nothing but hot…hard…him deep inside, part of her flesh, part of her soul.

  He kissed her again, as roughly as he thrust into her, and it was everything she’d dreamed, only more, impossibly more because it was him and…

  She loved him.

  Oh God. She clutched his back, held on to his hips, rode him, milked him, wept with the power of her feelings, at the depth of her need, and she loved him.

  He touched her so deeply, and not simply with his cock. He touched her heart, he had changed her forever. Her eyes closed as he grew inside her, as she tightened around him.

  His body held her against the wall, his gaze never wavering. He thrust again and again, teeth bared, breath straining.

  She didn’t recognize the onset of her orgasm. It wasn’t like the others, when it was her own hand or her vibrator. This was like a tidal wave, a tsunami, swallowing her whole, spinning her, drowning her, and she must have screamed because she heard her voice from afar.

  He pinned her against the wall, and his cry melted into hers as they came like thunder and lightning.

  A long time later, he slid out of her, and her legs touched the earth.

  Breathless, dizzy, still shivering, he led her past the couch to his bedroom. Tossing back the sheets, he waited until she lay down, then he crawled in next to her, brought the covers up and pulled her close.

  Her eyes fluttered closed, and with her head cradled on his chest, she sighed, abandoning herself to sleep. In her dream, he said, “I love you.”

  16

  JAY DIDN’T SLEEP, although, Christ, she’d wrung him out. Tonight hadn’t gone the way he’d thought it would. Not by a long shot. The first time they’d made love had been raw, hungry, physical. The second time, once they had gotten to his bed, had been more tender, a gentle exploration. By the third time he’d come with her, he knew he was in deep trouble.

  How had his plan gone so wrong? This was supposed to have been a diversion. Pleasant, yes, but nothing more. It was supposed to have been just sex.

  So why was it that when he’d finally reached his goal, everything had fallen apart?

  She sighed, moved her hand on his chest. He touched her hair, careful not to wake her. She’d curled into him, so trusting and at ease that she’d conked out before he’d turned off the light.

  He’d wanted to free her of her inhibitions. To give her the confidence to let her wild side come out. Getting involved hadn’t been an option.

  Somewhere along the way, the power had shifted. He hadn’t gotten it until tonight. Until he realized he wanted her beyond anything he’d ever wanted in his life. He needed her, and it scared the hell out of him.

  The trip to Connecticut had been a bust, too. He’d delivered the bike, but he might as well have shipped it. The road, where he’d always found peace, had given him nothing. Confusion about his life, about Amelia, about his father. Wasn’t it just a few weeks ago that his life had been completely together?

  Dammit, he’d promised not to hurt her. She was a great lady and she deserved someone who could be a good husband, give her the white picket fence and all that bull. A guy like one of hi
s brothers. They were marriage material, not him. Besides, there was a veritable smorgasbord of beautiful women all around him. Granted, Amelia was special. Extraordinary. But there were a lot of dishes out there he’d never tried.

  So what if he couldn’t imagine himself with anyone else? Tomorrow was another day, and when he’d cut it off with Amelia, he’d feel differently.

  Shit. He hadn’t meant for things to get this far out of hand. If he’d thought with his head instead of his cock, this wouldn’t have happened at all. It was too late, now. She had feelings for him. Strong feelings. And no matter how he broke up with her, she was going to be crushed.

  Maybe he should tell her about reading her journal. She’d be furious, and that would be the end of that. No. It would be easier for him, but she might misinterpret his intentions and go into hiding again. No matter what, he had to leave her her dignity.

  He wouldn’t call her again, that’s all. She’d be sad, sure, so would he. But it would pass, and now that she was looking so hot, she’d meet other guys.

  The thought didn’t sit well. Amelia with another man? He thought of how he had wanted to hurt that guy at the frat party, and that was before…

  Jay bit back a moan. He was so full of himself. He didn’t want her to see anyone else. But he didn’t want to commit, either. Maybe she’d be okay with that and he was worrying for nothing.

  Yeah, right.

  Man, he’d really screwed up this time. His father was right. He was a jerk. A selfish prick. Amelia deserved so much better.

  Okay, so he wasn’t going to call her. That’s all. If…no, when she met someone else, he’d deal with it. He’d give her his blessing, unless the guy was a total jackass or something. But it would work out. He honestly wanted the best for her.

  He petted her again, and she stirred. He pulled his hand back and got real quiet, but it was too late. Her head came up, and she smiled.

  “Hi.”

  “Hi.”

  “What time is it?”

  “About twelve.”

  “At night?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Wow.” She let her head fall on his chest. “I thought only guys went to sleep right after sex.”