Love Letters Volume 5: Exposed

by Ginny Glass, Christina Thacher, Emily Cale, Maggie Wells

  Now he saw Sonia differently, as a funny, sweet, mischievous woman.

  “Well what?” he said.

  “Are you going to change?” She looked pointedly at the clock over the coffee machine. “I don’t want to be late. We’re doing the quickstep tonight.”

  “I didn’t bring a change of clothes.”

  “Don’t worry, I’ve taken care of that.”

  “Won’t it be weird if I’m the only guy without a partner?”

  “You’ll have the best partner. Now stop stalling.” Her gaze swept down to his groin. Just watching her watch him was hot. Then he understood what she was suggesting.

  “You want me to change. Now? Here?”

  She grinned. “You didn’t mind when I did it.”

  True. “Did Dave lock the door?”

  Sonia laughed. “You never asked while I was stripping down. Assume it’s unlocked.”

  Oh, God, even the tiny chance someone would walk in was hot. “You’re into this, aren’t you.”

  “Quit talking. I want to see.”

  Adam stripped off his shirt, earning himself an appreciative grin from Sonia. His trousers came off next. She whistled. His hands started to push on the waistband of his boxers. “You did say you had something else for me to wear, right?”

  “Take them off and see what happens.”

  His boxers came off.

  Sonia produced a gift bag from behind her back and handed it to him. “I didn’t get you shoes, because you’ll need to try those on.”

  He pulled tissue-wrapped items out of the bag and tore off the tissue paper. Slacks in a black fabric that might have a touch of spandex. A long-sleeved black T-shirt in some exercise-type material. And—he pulled the last item out with some trepidation—black boxer-briefs.

  Bye-bye dorky persona.

  He leaned down to slip on the underwear. Sonia’s “Mmm-hmm” of appreciation slowed his movements.

  She leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, in a parody of his posture watching her. Her eyes were firmly trained on his cock, which seemed to like the audience.

  “Enough of that. We’re going to be late,” he chided. He pulled on the boxer-briefs, which were made of some silky, stretchy knit, and adjusted his cock, which was considerably thicker than it should be.

  “In England, the tailor asks you, ‘Does sir dress to the left or the right?’” She reached over to trace the ridge of his thickening cock. “You, for example, ‘dress to the left.’”

  “When you say it, it’s delightfully smutty. Positively erotic. I doubt it sounds the same coming from a Savile Row tailor.”

  “True. They don’t see it the way I do.”

  Adam flushed. He slipped on the trousers—surprisingly comfortable—and the T-shirt. He pulled on his shoes and tied the laces. He stood up straight.

  “How do I look?”

  Sonia’s smile melted his heart. “Like my boyfriend, ready to dance.”

  *

  U Is for Undone

  By Maggie Wells

  Alec used the blue-white glow of his cell to cut through the unrelenting gloom shrouding his apartment door.

  “Ain’t this just grand,” he muttered as the locks tumbled. The door swung open on oiled hinges, but there was no more light available on the other side. If the heat wave that held Chicago in a stranglehold didn’t break soon, the city’s overtaxed electrical grid might go up in a puff of black smoke. This was the second brownout in the neighborhood this week.

  He heaved a heavy sigh as he tossed his keys in the general direction of his coffee table and kicked the apartment door shut behind him. Noting the alarming level of battery strength shown on the phone’s display, he beat a path to the fridge, hoping the beer hadn’t warmed yet.

  Until he found himself enveloped in the inky blackness of his apartment building’s stairwell, he hadn’t realized how lucky he’d been at the hospital when the first one hit. There, backup generators kicked on almost instantly. The comforting beeps and blips of lifesaving equipment carried on without a hiccup. Still, even a momentary loss of power left his surgical team as jumpy as a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs. The only person who remained blissfully unaware of the danger was the patient on his operating table.

  Using his cell for light, he snatched a beer from the fridge and wandered into the combination living room/bedroom. Fresh off his neurosurgical residency, Alec required little more than a bed and a beer in the hours he spent away from Mercy Hospital. Well, a beer, a bed, and the portable air conditioner wedged into the far window. Unfortunately, with the power out, that little luxury sat still and silent.

  Flashes of light flickered in the room, and the elevated train screeched on the tracks that lay mere yards from his windows. Grabbing the strings, he raised the cheap vinyl blinds in one clean jerk as the last two cars streaked past. The fact that the trains were still running was a good sign. Hopefully the interruption in residential service wouldn’t last long. Blowing out a breath, he raised the blinds on the other two windows. Hoping the ratty screen would allow a breeze without letting every bug on the north shore into the apartment, he shoved at the sash. He managed to pry it up a few inches before backing away drenched in sweat.

  With a disgruntled huff, he stripped off his shirt and dropped it onto the arm of the sofa. Clutching the bottle of beer from the table, he fell limp and heavy into the waiting embrace of the couch cushions. The evening sky deepened royal to navy blue. The beer slid cool and light down his parched throat.

  Alec stared into the darkness, letting the worries of the day melt away. The rumble of an approaching train made the windows tremble and served to relax him further. The floor vibrated under his feet. He toed off his worn sneakers and took advantage of the free foot massage that came with the apartment.

  The sight of the ‘L’ passing within feet of his window never failed to give his inner six-year-old a thrill. He might have given up his dream of being a conductor when he was a kid, but he never relinquished his love for the rail. He stared out onto the tracks long after the northbound train disappeared around the bend.

  A spark of light in a window across the tracks snared his attention. It shrank to a pinpoint of blue flame, then flared bright gold as it grabbed hold of a wick. The small speck bobbed from point to point, igniting a circle of light that made his breath hitch with envy. His mind darted to the candles he’d left moldering in the drawer, but he couldn’t muster the energy to move from the spot.

  He stared in rapt fascination as another cluster of candlelight sprang to life. The honeyed glow illuminated the slender outline of a woman. A muffled grunt of protest tangled in his throat when she moved away from the light. Moments later, the flame flickered again, and another grouping was lit.

  “Where do they get all those candles?”

  Alec murmured the question aloud, but he knew the answer would remain a mystery. Just like the woman across the tracks. Pressing the cool bottle to his chest, he willed her to turn, greedy for any little detail to fill in the sketchy image the flickering light allowed. She leaned close to one group of candles and he could see that her hair was dark. It spilled over her shoulder and pooled on the table, trailing dangerously close to the open flame before she corralled it. Soft illumination accented lush curves on a petite frame. Shame tightened his stomach, but his imagination ran wild. Any trepidation he felt about watching her move around the candlelit apartment dissolved into a pool of molten lust when she tugged at the waistband of her loose-fitting pants and they fell away.

  “Oh. Thank you, God.”

  He exhaled the fervent prayer into the throat of his beer bottle. Dressed only in her top and a pair of panties, she gathered the thick mass of her hair in her hands and lifted it off her neck as she turned toward the windows.

  A hot flush prickled his neck and he shrank back into the cushions. Alec tried to swallow his fear with a hasty sip of beer but choked on the cool gush of effervescence. Another flame sprung to life. Then another. R
ecognition kicked him square in the gut when she lit the third candle perched on the windowsill. Slender arms rose. They coiled the thick rope of her hair atop her head. Graceful hands fell to rounded hips as she stepped closer to the window. Piercing eyes he knew too well sliced through the deepening twilight. He shifted to the edge of the seat, his eyes locked on the half-naked women framed in the window.

  “You.”

  She was a nurse. He’d seen her first on the train platform. One morning, he’d been lucky enough to score a spot next to her on the ‘L.’ He’d followed her to or from the train dozens of times. Not because he was a creepy stalker guy, but because they worked at the same hospital. And because he was a normal, red-blooded male, he was always happy to lag behind. What man with a pulse would not be mesmerized by the natural sway of her hips as she walked?

  It had been a long time since he’d had a steady woman in his life. Residency had a way of turning dating into quicksand. A newly launched medical career wasn’t much more conducive, but perhaps a relationship with another medical professional could be the ticket. She would understand the delights and demands of the job.

  She was the most intriguing woman he’d ever seen. Sweet honey-colored skin, voluptuous curves, and a sleek curl of dark hair so glossy he could almost see his reflection. But it was more than the way she looked. Alec was mesmerized by the way she looked at him. Direct. Challenging. Assessing. Arresting.

  Despite her miles and miles of romantic Rapunzel hair, his favorite nurse walked with purpose. He’d seen her greet people in passing, but she never slowed to chat or wavered in her direction. The woman exuded an air of confident self-containment that made him itch to touch her and ache to muss her. Now, staring at her pantless and alone in the dark, he wondered if that fascinating self-possession extended into all areas of her life.

  The thought of her pleasing herself ping-ponged through his head, wresting a heartfelt groan from the depth of his gut. His dick stirred. As if reading his thoughts, she grasped the hem of her top and lifted it over her head. Clad only in a satiny bra and panties that looked like shorts, she pressed the heels of her palms to the top of the window and gave it a shove. And he stared as if he were nothing more than a horny thirteen-year-old getting his first peek at a naked lady.

  The window didn’t budge, but that didn’t stop her. A strangled hum of approval rumbled from his throat when she arched her back and pushed up from her shoulders. Lush breasts pressed close to the grimy glass. His dick stopped playing coy and sprang to attention. Without thinking about the pervy implications of his actions, Alec popped the top two buttons on his jeans and fell back. Stretching his legs out, he watched as she nudged the stubborn old window open a precious few inches.

  Depraved or not, there was no way he could look away. Not now. Maybe not ever. He’d been enthralled by his pretty little neighbor since long before her pants came off. He caught himself scanning the corridors and cafeteria, hoping he’d run into her. He’d seen her detraining in the evenings, her scrubs rumpled and her dark hair escaping its pins. Every once in a while, she glanced back over her shoulder as she walked away from the ‘L’ stop. Alec knew she was simply being careful and cautious, but he would swear she looked right at him.

  She hadn’t noticed him when she’d wedged her way onto a crowded hospital elevator the previous week, but he’d noticed everything about her. Particularly her beautiful hair. She’d worn her hair braided and wound into an intricate twist that day. He’d spent the entire thirty-second ride imagining himself pulling the pins from that tight coil, loosening the neatly woven plaits, and combing his fingers through those silky tresses. When the elevator dinged to a stop at the third floor, she left without a backward glance and he was left holding a patient’s chart over his crotch.

  Alec sighed and shifted in his seat, wishing he had a chart handy at that moment. He tried to look away, but across the tracks, she smoothed her palms over her ears and looped a stray tendril around the messy knot. Her skin glowed golden in the soft shimmering light. Every movement appeared loose and languid. It was all he could do to keep from shouting a protest when she stepped away from the windows. He rose from his sofa as she sank onto hers. She stretched the length of the couch, candlelight playing over legs that were deceptively long for someone so small. He inched closer to the windows, his dick pulsing against the fly of his jeans. Her head jerked up and his heart lodged in his throat.

  Their eyes met. He felt them connect. Awareness sizzled through his body and curled his toes. Panic grabbed him by the throat and squeezed. He fell back into the shadow beside the windows. Darkness wrapped him in its soothing embrace even as potential headlines filled his head.

  Peeping Tom Doc Docked Five-to-Ten for Being a Creep.

  It’s a No-Brainer—Neurosurgeon Nabbed on Privacy Charges.

  Still, he didn’t look away. He couldn’t. Not when she rested her head on the crook of her arm and touched the tips of her toes to the end of the sofa. Not while her free hand roamed over softly rounded curves. Not when she stared so boldly at his window.

  It was almost as if she was doing it on purpose. Taunting him. Tempting him. But she didn’t seem the type to tease. She seemed more the frighteningly competent kind of woman with the cops on speed dial and a shark of a lawyer for a brother-in-law. The sort who shot straight and expected the world to respond in kind. Or else. She wasn’t the type to put on an impromptu peep show for a stranger with too much testosterone on his hands and not enough social life.

  But he’d bet his scalpel her skin was every bit as smooth as it looked. Smooth and plush. He wanted to dip the tip of his tongue into the shadowy indent of her navel and cradle the generous swell of her ass in his hands. His eyes slid shut as he pictured himself lifting her off the cushions as he lowered his mouth. He braced his hand on the window pane. The glass was cool and smooth, but he’d bet anything she was hot and spicy. He could almost taste the tang of arousal when he licked his lips. He shoved his other hand into his jeans, a helpless groan seeping from his lips when he grabbed hold of his straining dick.

  Alec managed two jerky strokes before a low rumbling nipped at the edges of his lust. A flash of headlights glowed amber behind his eyelids. The scream of metal on metal heralded the passing of another train, but it was the disjointed whir of the city surging to life that jolted him from his fantasy.

  Grime-dulled silver cars whizzed past. His window air conditioner sputtered to life. He blinked as all around him streetlights and neon signs hummed their resurgence. And across the tracks, a woman clad only in a deep purple bra and pink cotton panties lay basking in the gold glow of lamplight. Staring at him just as blatantly as he stared at her. Her eyebrows rose in silent inquisition.

  *

  Sofia Morales smiled when Dr. Alec McCarthy’s startled blue eyes met hers. Of course, she couldn’t actually see the brilliant blue of his eyes from where she stood, but she could tell by his slack-jawed stare that he knew he was busted.

  She liked that he didn’t look away. He didn’t take the coward’s way out by trying to pretend he was doing anything other than watching her. If anything, he widened his stance the slightest bit. A challenge issued by his body without his brain’s permission. At least, not the brain in his head. He simply stared at her, unflinching, immovable and blatantly absorbed. The way he looked at her was an ego rush to say the least. The visceral response those bold blue eyes evoked was nothing less than incendiary. Her nipples ached. Her breasts felt lush and full. She could time her heart rate by the pulse throbbing in her embarrassingly wet pussy.

  She liked the way he watched her. Those vivid blue eyes were the first thing she noticed about him and the last thing she thought of late at night. She’d tried to dismiss her attraction to him as a silly crush at first, but the diagnosis didn’t fit. Her fascination with the man didn’t match up with any infatuation she’d experienced before. And while his eyes were certainly beautiful by any standard, the rest of him wasn’t quite as arresting. At least, n
ot at first glance.

  Thank goodness he wasn’t too tall. From the glimpses she’d stolen as he passed the markings at the Emergency Room door, she’d guess he scraped by just under the six-foot mark. This made him more accessible for a woman who barely passed five feet in her socks. While she tended to like her men a little more fully packed, he was thin and rangy, a shade heavier than skinny. His hair was medium brown, his nose crooked and obviously broken, and a thin white scar marred the line of his upper lip.

  His interest in her was apparent from the start. She’d be a liar if she didn’t admit it was part of his allure. What woman could resist a man so obviously taken with her? And he had been from that very first day. He’d stood a few feet away on the platform, staring at her with such intensity that she wanted to squirm and slink away.

  But she didn’t.

  Sofia grew up with a single mother who held three jobs and two older brothers in the Humboldt Park area of the city’s west side. She shrank from no man. Certainly not a gangly guy with a staring problem.

  The first time he followed her off the train and toward the hospital, she wrapped her fingers around the leather-clad canister of pepper spray she carried in her key chain. Safe inside the ER’s sliding doors, she pried her fingers from the spray can and whirled on him, prepared to give the man a bellyful of grief for dogging her footsteps. But then he smiled as he strode toward her, his admiring gaze lingering on her as he pulled an identification badge from his pocket and clipped it to the placket of his shirt. Blue eyes glimmered with friendly appreciation as they locked in on her. Perfectly imperfect lips curved into a crooked smile that showed the kind of even white teeth that proved him to be an orthodontist’s wet dream. And then he spoke.

  “Good morning.”

  Until she heard the magical lilt in his voice, he might have passed for the average skinny white guy with a big fat diploma. Sofia had worked long and hard to build a future for herself, but in the process she’d lost the ability to get giddy over a guy. When Dr. McCarthy opened his mouth, he spoke those two simple words with the barest hint of a burr. Or maybe it was a brogue. Didn’t matter. Whatever it was, the accent conjured images of kilt-clad heroes she loved to read about. The melodic purr of that simple greeting turned out to be her undoing. It only took her fifteen minutes in the nurse’s lounge to discover that his magical accent worked with pretty much any words spoken with any woman standing anywhere in his general vicinity. Never one to resist a challenge, Sofia stepped up her game, intent on calling the brash surgeon’s bluff.