by Julie Kenner
“Touch yourself, El,” he said, and she about cried out with desperation. She didn’t want her touch, she wanted his. But the thought of arguing, of not touching herself while he watched, never even occurred to her. She slid her hands down between her thighs and stroked herself, her fingers immediately slick with wet heat.
“Come for the camera, El,” he urged. “Let me show you what you look like when you come.”
“I—I…” She trailed off. There was no point in protesting, not when she wasn’t about to stop. The robe fell off, pooling around her feet. She leaned back, her shoulders and back on the bare wall. Her hips were forward, moving in an erotic rhythm as she found her own center, teasing and stroking there, right there, as the pressure built and built and built until finally she rocketed over the edge.
And so help her, the thought that it was Shane watching her come sent her spiraling faster and higher.
Her body trembled, and she slid down the wall, her eyes closed as she willed her body back to normal.
“Oh, God, Ella.”
Shane. And there she was, naked on the floor.
The haze of her orgasm vanished in a poof, and she scooped up her robe, covering herself despite being about a hundred miles away from any semblance of modesty. She stood, struggling into the robe as she turned away from him. “Shane. I didn’t. I shouldn’t have—”
“Hush. Shhh.” He was on his knees, right beside her, his nimble fingers taking the sash from her shaking hands and tying the sash at her waist. “That was beautiful. The pictures are amazing. And you’re amazing for having the courage to live out a fantasy.”
She wasn’t so sure, but since that was exactly what she needed to hear, she turned enough to look at him. “Yeah?”
“Yeah. Absolutely.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “I’m proud of you, El. And I’ve just got to say, I think I’ve got the sexiest best friend in all of Manhattan. Maybe even all of the world.”
IT WAS THE RIGHT THING TO say, Shane thought, because the haunted, mortified look vanished from her eyes. It wasn’t what he’d wanted to say. He’d wanted to use very explicit words to get her into bed. He was harder than he could ever remember being, and the idea of not thrusting himself inside her, of not cupping her breasts in his hands and looking into her eyes as he made her come again—well, it was almost unbearable.
But that wasn’t what Ella needed right now. She was primed, he could tell that, and he knew he’d had his first victory. If he wanted to win the war, though, he had to move with caution.
Gently he took her hand and eased her to the sofa. He settled her beside him, close, so they could both look at the camera at the same time. He scrolled through the images, each one that passed reminding him of how aroused he’d been watching her make love to the camera. Because that’s what she’d done. And he’d about lost it simply witnessing the way the light had caught the curve of her breast. When he’d seen her nipples peak, when he’d caught the expression of bliss on her face, he’d known he had to urge her over the edge.
He hadn’t been sure what to expect when he’d told her to stroke herself. Objection, probably. What he’d gotten was a fantasy come true, and it had taken every bit of willpower in his body not to come right there, with the camera clicking away.
“Oh, wow,” she said. She looked both fascinated and appalled by the photos. “I can’t believe I…you know…did that.”
“You needed it. I can’t believe Tony doesn’t want to see you like this. These photos…you’re absolutely stunning.”
“He wouldn’t get it.”
“Maybe you should show him.”
She shook her head. “No. No way. He’s not…” She trailed off, twirling her hand as she tried to find the words.
“He’s not what?” Shane prompted.
“I’m not sure,” she said. “I guess he’s just not you.”
7
ELLA REGRETTED THE WORDS, but they were true. Tony and Shane were so different. And tonight, at least, Shane was everything she wanted.
Long-term, though…
No. She wasn’t going to go there. And that meant she couldn’t go for the short term, either, no matter how tempting it might be to lean closer, to shift just a little, to rub up against Shane and see if maybe—just maybe—he rubbed back.
“I don’t know, El. Are you sure…”
“What?” she demanded when he didn’t finish the question.
“I just wonder about Tony. I know you, El. And I don’t want to see you living half a life.” He nodded to the camera. “You’re alive in those photos. Does that mean you’re not alive with Tony?”
“Of course not! That’s totally absurd. My relationship with him is just different.”
“Less sexual.”
“It’s very sexual, thank you very much. It’s just…different.” That sounded lame even to her ears, but how could she explain the big picture to Shane? More importantly, why should she have to?
Flustered, she tied the robe tighter, then scooted to the far side of the couch. For an extra buffer—just in case her hands might rebel and reach out to stroke him—she grabbed a pillow and clutched it tightly in her lap with both hands.
“If you say so,” he said. “It’s your relationship. You’re the one it has to work for.”
“Exactly,” she said. She shifted again, trying to get comfortable and failing miserably. The room was just so damn hot. Even muggier now, with the rain.
Except it wasn’t the heat in the apartment that was making her all itchy and uncomfortable and desperate to shed the robe again. No, it was the heat inside her. She had a pilot light nestled right there between her legs, and Shane had come along and fired the furnace. And no matter how much she tried to cool down, she couldn’t seem to turn off the lust.
“I can see some guys not wanting to take pictures,” he said. “I mean, everyone has a line they won’t cross. But I just wonder if your lines are too far apart.”
“They’re not,” she said.
“Good.” He got up then and moved into the kitchen.
“What are you doing?”
“Just looking for something else I ran across when I was doing that erotica research for you.”
“Oh.” She frowned, not sure if she could stand another assault on her senses. “I really don’t want to talk about school right now. Maybe we should just, you know, play cards or something.”
“It’s not school, El,” he said. “It’s erotica.”
She knew she should put the brakes on, but somehow the words just didn’t come, not even when he came back holding one of her books.
“Here it is,” he said. Then, before she could even open her mouth to protest, he started to read a passage from Harris’s My Life and Loves, in which the hero finger-fucks a young lady while the two were supposed to be listening to the church organist.
Ella’s cheeks heated, her mind putting her in the role of the young woman, with Shane’s fingers inside her. Oh, my…
“What do you think?” he asked. “Is that something you’d like?”
Oh, yes…
She blinked, anchoring herself firmly back in reality. “What? Shane, what are you talking about?”
“I ran across it before you got here. I was thinking about what you told me, about how erotica turns you on. And I was wondering if it had the same effect on Tony.”
Ella pressed her legs together and hoped he couldn’t see the way her hips were shifting on the sofa. “I don’t believe I’ve ever discussed that particular passage with him.” What had gotten into Shane? He’d looked after her all their lives, but this policing of her sex life was just a bit much. She wanted to tell him, but he was already riffling the pages. And, dammit all, she was actually curious as to what he was going to read to her next.
You’re a slut, El. A mental slut, fantasizing about your best friend and getting off on him reading erotica while he nitpicks at the details of your relationship with another man.
Oh, yeah. She was in trouble.
“I take it that’s a no.” He made a little noise, something of a mix between surprise and disapproval. “Interesting. Well, there was another passage I thought might appeal to you. Hang on.”
As she gaped at him, feeling a bit like a very turned-on lab rat, he started flipping through the book again. Shadows danced on the ceiling as he moved the candle, reading by the soft orange glow. His eyes seemed deeper and more intense, his mouth more generous. And that one unruly lock of hair made her fingers itch to stroke it. Hell, to stroke him.
A warm languor spread through her entire body, and she knew if she wasn’t very, very careful, she’d do something incredibly stupid. Something that would be amazing and wonderful and incredibly satisfying…but also incredibly stupid.
Be strong, Ella.
Determined, she fisted her hands at her sides, telling herself they were just talking. He was just doing the best-friend thing. Making sure she was happily in love. Nothing sensual about that. Nothing dangerous.
She told herself that, but somehow she didn’t feel any safer. Especially not with Shane busily thumbing through her books.
She told herself she just needed to make it through tonight. Tomorrow he’d go back to his apartment. And even though they’d see each other before he left, the spell would be broken. And then he’d be in Texas, a safe fifteen hundred miles away. She’d marry Tony and Shane would start dating someone and then her condition would clear up.
Except…
Except the idea that some other woman was going to get a taste of her Shane didn’t make her happy. Instead it made her positively miserable.
Damn the man for being so good-looking. And damn herself for having such a vivid imagination.
She just needed to keep reminding herself why it would be a terrible idea to get involved with Shane. And it would be bad. She’d risk losing everything. His friendship most of all, but also her relationship with Tony’s family, the only real family she’d ever known and exactly the kind of family she’d always wanted. Large and boisterous and interfering and supportive. And Tony himself, too, of course. She’d risk losing him.
And she wasn’t willing to risk any of that.
Right. Just stay calm. Toe the line. All that jazz. Maybe even have a few more drinks. With any luck, she’d fall asleep and not wake up until the power was back on. All in all, that would probably be the safest way to approach the situation.
Not that she could fall asleep with him in the kitchen perusing the pages of her books. Pages filled with enough heat and lust to rival what she was feeling.
The flipping of pages became slower, and every once in a while he made a little noise, like a cross between pleasure and surprise.
And with each little flip of the page, Ella’s pulse increased, the blood pounding through her veins.
Flip.
She felt light-headed.
Flip.
Bordering on desperate.
Flip.
Enough already! “Dammit, Shane. What are you doing?” Her voice was pitched higher than she wanted, but she congratulated herself on sounding annoyed instead of horny. And as he turned to her, waving the book with an expression of unadulterated fascination on his face, Ella once again wondered how in the hell she was going to survive the night.
“Sorry. I got distracted looking for the passage I wanted to show you. But here it is. Want to hear?”
No, no, no. Common sense begged her to decline. Her mouth betrayed her, though, with a casual, “Sure.”
His voice was low, the words sultry and full of promise, as he read two passages from Anaïs Nin. The first was from the point of view of a man making love to a woman, unaware that he was being watched. The other was from the perspective of a man watching a couple make love. The words flowed, making Ella shiver. But it wasn’t the images the words conjured so much as the sound of Shane’s rich, deep voice, teasing and enticing her.
“What do you think?” he asked. “Intriguing?”
Ella licked her lips. “The passage is hot, no question about that, but why did you want to read it to me?”
“I remembered what you said that time. About the park.”
“The park?” She genuinely had no idea what he was talking about.
“Yeah, don’t you remember? About a week after I got my new apartment? And we were walking Bruno down by the river and we saw that couple and—”
“Oh!” The memory slammed up against her. They’d been taking a walk, talking about nothing in particular, and suddenly Ella had noticed a couple making out near a stand of trees. It was late and the area was secluded—in retrospect not the smartest place to go for a walk—but anyway, the couple had been making out, hot and heavy, in public.
They’d laughed about it at first, averting their eyes as they half ran out of the park and back to Ella’s apartment. But later that night when they were playing Truth or Dare—a favorite pastime since grade school—Ella had admitted that she’d felt a little frisson of excitement. Decadent, maybe, but the idea of making out—or even making love—out in the open where anyone could see…
Even now she shivered. Somehow seeing that couple in the park had sparked a fantasy she’d never quite been able to get over.
“So have you and Tony ever…?”
Ella swallowed, then changed the subject. “Is Bruno going to be okay?”
Shane cocked his head, his brows raised. “He’s fine. Danny promised to walk him since I was having dinner with you,” he added, referring to Shane’s neighbor across the hall. “And he’s got plenty of food and water. Besides, Danny will probably realize I can’t get back and keep the mutt company. You, however…” He trailed off, a hint of warning in his voice.
“What?”
“You’re avoiding my question.”
“No, I’m not.” She considered telling Shane it was none of his business. The trouble was, if their past conversations were any indication, it was totally his business. For that matter, she’d just gotten herself off while her best friend watched. Hardly the time to be prudish about their conversations about her sex life.
They’d always been open about sex. That was one of the great things about having a guy for a best friend—she got the other team’s perspective.
Tonight, though, she wasn’t keen on sharing. She felt too open, too exposed. And way, way too needy.
But she also wasn’t keen on explaining why she was feeling so closemouthed. So instead of explaining anything at all, she simply parried. “Have you?”
“Never,” he said. “But I think I may have to rectify that oversight. It seems too delicious to pass up.”
She swallowed. She sure couldn’t argue with that.
“So aren’t you going to tell me?”
“What?”
“You and Tony. I mean, I know you’d like it. Doesn’t Tony—”
“Shane!”
“What?” He shrugged innocently, then reached for the half-full champagne bottle that had been sitting in ice for the past few hours. He poured himself another glass, then filled her empty flute. “You and I talk about this stuff over a stupid game like Truth or Dare. I figure you and Tony have covered all the bases during real conversations. Right? I mean, you probably have stood out on that very fire escape, lights off, bodies all hot and sweaty, just a little tipsy from a nice bottle of wine….”
Ella shifted, more uncomfortable under the persistent rat-a-tat of his interrogation than she wanted to be. “Shane, come on.”
“Come on, what?”
“Quit playing games with me.” She tried to speak lightly, but it was hard to keep her voice under control, especially since she was picturing in her head exactly what he was describing. Only the man on the fire escape with her wasn’t Tony. It was Shane. And it wasn’t just any night in particular. It was right now. This moment. This dark, candlelit night that seemed tailor-made for fantasies come true.
“Let’s just do that,” he said, his voice a whisper.
“The fire escape?” She c
ouldn’t help it. The words were out before she could call them back.
He looked at her for a single moment too long, his green eyes deep with questions. Then he shook his head, that smile putting in yet another appearance. “It’s an option,” he said in a teasing tone. “But I was talking about playing games.”
“Oh.” She took a deep breath, both disappointed and relieved that he hadn’t jumped all over her stupid, stupid half suggestion that he take her out on the fire escape and—
Never mind.
Another breath, and she more or less had her wits about her. She made a show of rubbing her temples. “Sorry. I’m feeling all fuzzy. All these drinks have gone to my head. Games, you were saying. You want us to play a game?”
“Sure,” he said. “Why not? It looks like the power’s going to be out for a while. And I’m too wired to go to sleep. How about you?”
“I’m wired, too,” she admitted. She couldn’t look him in the eye, though. She was too afraid he’d see the truth there. Disappointment that he hadn’t pressed her. And the absolute certainty that if he’d asked, she would have climbed out on the balcony with him in a heartbeat.
It was definitely a good thing that he hadn’t asked.
She pulled herself together and looked at him. “What kind of game did you have in mind? I’ve got chess, Clue, backgammon, playing cards.”
“I was thinking more along the lines of an old standby. You know, a bit of nostalgia before I head back to Texas.” He caught her eye, and she knew even before he spoke what he was going to say. “Truth or Dare, Ella. I think we ought to play a game of Truth or Dare.”
8
HE WAS TAKING A RISK, no doubt about that. But at this point Shane knew he didn’t have any choice. He also had a feeling that the odds were on his side. He’d seen the spark in her eyes and he was absolutely, one hundred percent sure that she was as interested in him as he was in her. The question was whether she’d ever admit it. A tough question with Tony waiting in the wings.
He supposed he should feel guilty about trying to romance—no, seduce—Ella away from her boyfriend. But the remorse wouldn’t come. Tony was an okay man, but he wasn’t for Ella. Shane was. And as the man said, all’s fair in love and war. Tonight Shane was waging a little of both.
