by Joanne Rock
When his words trailed off, she caught the heat in his gaze, the subtle arch of a questioning brow.
“You mean no sex?” It had been a long time for her before her conference table interlude with Wes. A very long time.
Since she had the feeling Wes was Mr. Sexual Experience, she had no intention of admitting he was only her second sex partner. “Not sex per se, but the pleasure of physical contact. The kisses. The touching.” He shook his head all of a sudden. “And it’s not a damn bit of my business.”
She had the feeling he was just playing the gentle man for her tonight after the ugly message on her front door, but something told her Wes still wanted her the same way she still wanted him. The angry words her stalker had left hadn’t erased the hunger she felt for Wes. If anything, she only craved the sensual connection with him all the more.
“Who says I went without touches?” She decided it couldn’t hurt to have a little fun with Wes tonight and up the heat with some suggestive conversation.
And maybe she was a smidge offended that he looked at her years of abstinence with what seemed damn close to pity, when that time had helped her to look past sex and desire to see what people really wanted from her.
Of course, that trick hadn’t worked with Wes. She still had no idea what he wanted from her since desire had clouded her well-trained eyes from the moment he first strolled into her apartment.
“I got the impression you closed the door on men for a few years.” He straightened, his posture no longer lazy and comfortable, but tense and alert.
The new topic of conversation seemed to have his full attention. And didn’t that soothe her old insecurities? She couldn’t help but enjoy the way Wes took a definite interest in her and her sexual experiences.
“Don’t discount the value of solo pleasure.” Her heart beat faster at the frank interest in Wes’s smoky gray gaze. “I assure you, I can bring myself to orgasm faster than any man on the planet.”
Understanding lit his gaze as he followed her line of thinking.
“You realize you’ve just issued a challenge I can’t refuse?” Mischief danced in his dark eyes as he leaned closer.
“That’s not a challenge, it’s a fact. I’m living this body from the inside, Detective, so it only makes sense that I know exactly what revs it up.” What was it about the male psyche that fueled men to tout their sexual prowess at every given opportunity? “It’s a physiological advantage no man could fully compete with, al though I’ll be the first to admit I’d rather have your hands on me than mine.”
She scooted closer to him on the couch, putting her self in easy reach. She didn’t think she’d recover this level of desire after coming home to find her apartment vandalized. But maybe she needed to be with Wes to night to feel whole again. Strong. The fears and the worries of a few hours ago faded away as the temperature soared between them.
“You’d prefer I touch you, yet you think you can make yourself hit your personal high note faster than me?” He grinned wickedly, but didn’t venture any closer to her.
“It’s just biology.” And very unimportant considering the way her heart slugged harder against her ribs. She’d had enough time in her life to experience the limited joys of solo sex. As long as Wes was within reach, she planned to make decadent use of that lean, strong body of his. “Besides, the orgasms are much better when there is a friend to share them with.”
Refusing to wait for him to touch her any longer, she picked up his hand and tucked it under her shirt. Farther, higher, until he covered her lace-trimmed breast with his palm.
“Really?” Flexing his fingers, he squeezed gently. “What if you did the stroking, but a friend was around to watch? What caliber of orgasms would you achieve then, I wonder?”
Sidling closer, she arched more heavily into his hand, craving the heat of those strong, nimble fingers. She couldn’t imagine playing out the scenario he suggested. The vision of him watching while she…
No doubt, it would be hot.
“I already flashed you in the alley.” She moaned with pleasure as his other hand snaked up her shirt and molded around her other breast. “Don’t you think I’ve been adventurous enough for one night?”
“Not even close. Whether you admit it or not, I’m guessing you’ve got a few years of abstinence to make up for. And lucky for you, I’m very glad to oblige.” He tugged off her sweatshirt but left her bra on, his gaze lingering in a way that was oh-so-flattering. “I do like it when you watch me,” she admitted, wondering if those silver-gray eyes of his could turn any darker. They already glowed with steely intensity as he watched her slip off her sweatpants. She left her white lace panties around her hips since he seemed to like the visual of her lingerie and Tempest planned to give him an eyeful.
“I promise I won’t even blink.” True to his word, his gaze locked on her undergarments that were semitransparent. “Just tell me where you want me.”
Glad he gave her full run of the show, she shouted an order to Eloise to stay put while she stretched out on the couch. She usually slept with the bed pulled out, but with her blood rushing through her veins in a geyser-hot flood, she didn’t want to take the time to rearrange the furniture.
She wanted Wes’s undivided attention. When he slid deep inside her tonight, she wanted to be able to look in his eyes. And when he found his release, she wanted to see that clench of his muscles, the sheen of sweat over his velvety skin.
Wes made her feel too beautiful, too sexy, to hide behind a silken blindfold.
“You can sit right there.” She left him on the edge of the couch while she flung one leg over his lap, the other resting on the cushions behind him.
Leaning back on a mountain of throw pillows, she peered down the length of her smooth pale skin to his muscular thighs, lean waist and square shoulders. He’d stripped off his shirt and tie at some point, his trousers only partially zipped but still clinging to his hips. His erection strained the fabric even with the fly loosened, his white cotton boxers stretching over the bulge that reached above the waist.
Come to mama.
Breath catching in her throat at the sight of all that delectable manhood on display, she decided she’d never had better inspiration for skimming her fingers over her panties. Simply put, he was the most fascinating man she’d ever met.
Goose bumps broke out over her skin as he followed the progress of her fingers with his gaze. The silk and lace of her lingerie grew damp with heat, the fabric molding intimately to her as she traced a circle around the hard knot of her clit.
Her hips twitched at the thought of him touching her, and with his big male body positioned between her legs, it was easy enough to imagine his hands on her, too. She tugged aside the lace to stroke the slick folds beneath. Little spasms fanned out from her womb, warning her it wouldn’t be long until the bigger contractions came, the ones that would wring her body from the inside out.
All because he was here. Watching. Devouring her with his gaze.
Her fingers tracked faster over her flesh grown swollen with want, her fantasies turning more graphic as she imagined him bending over her, taking her in his mouth. Lapping at her most sensitive places.
And then it was no dream.
With a growl of pure animal hunger, he leaned over her, tugging her panties down and off with one hand while he guided her fingers to his mouth with the other. One by one he sucked each digit in turn, tasting her with a thoroughness that left her whole body humming for that most intimate of kisses.
Hot breath fanned over her, stoking the fiery tension inside her. Tighter. Higher.
When he swirled his tongue over her sex she flew apart on contact, her screams thankfully muffled behind Wes’s accommodating hand. Lush spasms rolled over and over her, rocking her insides with raw sexual heat until she shuddered from the force of them.
Only then did he pull her up off the couch and into his lap to straddle him, lowering her down onto his shaft. He’d managed to put a condom on, but his pants
were still at half-mast, the zipper threatening her most sensitive places until she shoved the trousers down with a trembling hand.
And then she thought no more, surrendering herself completely to the fierce rhythm he set. Her fingers gripped his shoulders as she anchored herself against the next round of waves already dragging her under. Deeper.
Gasping in one last breath, she let her release over take her as another climax swept through her damp body. Wes didn’t bother quieting her cries this time, his own echoing moments behind hers. Their heartbeats hammered so close together the rhythms became indistinguishable, their timing as in synch now as it had been while they made love.
Or had sex.
Or whatever it was they’d just done.
Tempest had no idea. She could barely think. Couldn’t move. Couldn’t believe she’d just touched her self for the sensual delight of a man she’d known for all of—how long had it been?—five days.
But, oh God, had it been good.
Body brimming with happy endorphins, she tried not to worry about what it meant that she’d just shared the best sex of her life with a man who’d made it very clear he wasn’t a relationship kind of guy. If only she could look at sex like a man, taking her pleasure where she could and to hell with the consequences.
But as Wes guided them down to recline on the couch, his strong arms cradling her close to his heart, Tempest knew she’d crossed some kind of personal line with him tonight. She’d given him too much of herself, shared a little piece of her soul when she’d only meant to follow an intense attraction until it flared out of its own accord.
Too bad she hadn’t fully comprehended what it meant to play with fire.
As she drifted off to sleep beside him, wrapped in the musky male scent of him, she told herself she’d figure out some solution in the morning. There had to be a way to reclaim her independence before she fell head over heels for a man who pushed her boundaries as no one else had ever done.
Somehow, she needed to put some space between them again before her old insecurities chased Wes away for good. Until she was strong enough to be a real partner for Wes, she’d keep her distance to make sure neither of them got burned beyond repair.
CHAPTER TWELVE
“OUCH!”
Wes suppressed the string of curses that swelled in his throat the next morning as he nicked his jaw with the plastic straight razor he’d unearthed from a new bag in Tempest’s medicine cabinet. Why was it that a microscopic cut from shaving stung ten times more than a gushing flesh wound?
One of those mysteries of life. Kind of as pointless as trying to figure out why walking away from Tempest would hurt exponentially more than the hits to his ego from women who’d taken him deep in the past.
Setting aside the instrument of terror that had left three fresh cuts on his mug, Wes rinsed his face and dried off. Steam from his shower still hung thick in the black-and-white, art deco bathroom as he swiped the towel across the wrought-iron mirror in an effort to clean up after himself.
The shower and shave had done little to clear his head. Sleeping with Tempest again only made him want more, inciting primitive urges to hold her by his side that same way night after night. Maybe part of him had hoped the heat between them would cool after they’d been together a few times, but that was far from the case. If anything, he only wanted her now more than ever.
Flinging a towel over his shoulder, he slid into his clothes, wondering if she’d be awake yet. He’d forced himself to get up and shower instead of succumbing to the far more tempting pleasure of watching her sleep—her red, manicured fingers curled tightly around the sheet and tucked beneath her delicate jaw.
He was getting too close, too involved, the same way his old partner Steve had shortly before his death. Steve had fallen for one of the women involved in a crime ring he’d infiltrated. Wes had followed protocol and refrained from actively contacting his partner when he went silent three weeks into the job, but Steve had checked in with Wes on his own terms during the undercover stint, and his last message detailed his concern for getting his lady friend out safely. Wes still regretted respecting Steve’s cover those last few weeks since the woman had ultimately exposed him.
Possibly turned him to crime, if the media coverage was to be believed.
Hanging the towel over the shower door, Wes re minded himself Tempest was nothing like that woman. For that matter, she wasn’t anything like any woman he’d ever been with before, his type tending to stray more to fallen angels than uptown girls. What freaked him out was the loss of control when he started to care about somebody, the emotional sucker punch that re minded him it didn’t matter how many arrests a guy made or street fights he’d won—when it came to women, men pretty much had no defense.
Except for the one-month rule, of course. Although it wasn’t exactly ingenious, at least the time limit made sure he wouldn’t be vulnerable to the relationship equivalent of a kick in the gonads.
Until now.
Apparently Tempest was like a fast-acting chemical agent to his system. A few rounds with her, and he was toast.
Frustrated and out of sorts, he yanked the bathroom door open, startling Eloise to jump up from her mat in the corner with a whine. Tempest lifted a curious brow from her spot in the kitchen where she swirled a tea bag around in a steaming ceramic mug, a morning rain shower beating hard at a window behind her.
“Ghost on your tail?” She shuffled toward a round table tucked in a corner of the studio near the oven range, a pair of ratty pink slippers scuffing along the dark hardwood floor. An untied terrycloth bathrobe flapped open over a T-shirt and a pair of blue plaid boxer shorts.
He refrained from mentioning the spook of morning-after doubts currently haunting her bathroom.
“Just in a hurry to see what New York’s reigning society queen looks like in the morning.” He wasn’t ready to confront the questions between them. Not when he needed to step up his investigation today. Better to keep things light.
Dropping into a seat, she clutched her mug of tea with both hands and smiled. “I’m presiding over an elegant table with perfect aplomb.” She crossed her legs and kicked forward a slippered foot with a flourish. “And of course, I’m always a fashion plate. It just goes with the territory.”
That’s how she does it.
As Wes watched her bend over her tea and sip it with as much ritual and reverence as if it had been a life-saving elixir, he realized she was very good at making him feel comfortable with her wealth and privilege because she downplayed it at every turn. From her self-deprecating comments to her pared-down lifestyle, she gave off a common-person vibe that put him at ease.
But would she always be that way? Or would she tire of her Chelsea apartment and the struggling-artist scene once she’d gotten her fill of sculpting?
Not many people would be able to walk away from a world of luxury for long. Especially if they’d grown up accustomed to life’s little extras the way she had.
Maybe he’d figure her out more now that he was staying with her for a few days. Get a better read on a woman who looked all wrong for him on paper, but in reality seemed very right.
“The slippers definitely make a statement.” He wandered over to the stovetop and filled the empty mug she’d left waiting on the counter. Even in such a small thing, Tempest remained low pressure with her self-serve attitude.
Dropping the kettle back on a burner, he sifted through her basket of five thousand flavored teas looking for a bag that said plain old “Lipton.”
“I don’t think we should have sex anymore.” Her pronouncement came just as he’d decided he’d try something called cinnamon zinger.
Damned if she hadn’t zinged him first.
“Did I miss something here?” His tea bag floated on top of the water since he should have put it in the mug first. Assorted little details filled his cop brain, all the while refusing to process what she’d just said.
“I mean, I hope you’ll still consider staying her
e until you catch the psycho-creep lurking around my apartment, but I don’t think it’s a good idea for us to keep up the intimacy.”
She still clung to her teacup, only now Wes realized it wasn’t just her magic elixir, it was a power potion that gave her the nerve to lob verbal bombs at him the morning after they’d shared something pretty damn profound.
“And you came to this conclusion while we were rolling off your couch for the third time last night? Or did you only just make up your mind this morning?” He sucked down his tea in one large gulp, the red-hot liquid frying the inside of his mouth. How in the hell could she be so casual?
“I’m sorry.” Bowing her head for a moment, she seemed to study the wood grain in her floor before meeting his eyes again. “I didn’t mean to be so abrupt, I just wanted to get the words out before I lost my nerve.”
“At least you have the courtesy to admit it takes a hell of a lot of nerve to drop that on a guy at eight in the morning.” His brain seemed as scalded as his throat since he couldn’t figure out what else to say. What could he say to that? “Care to tell me why you’re changing your mind? Although, let’s be very clear that this doesn’t change a damn thing about me staying here. You’re not getting rid of me until we catch whoever is stirring up trouble for you.”
Nodding, she at least had the good grace to look relieved. Finally, she huffed out a sigh and looked at him dead-on.
“I’m a romantic.” She said it with as much drama as if she confessed a cardinal sin.
“Considering my line of work, I’m usually pretty good at connecting the dots, but you’re going to have to help me out on this one because I’m not following.” He strangled the water out of his tea bag before flinging it in the trash.
And he thought he’d been confused about Tempest while he shaved this morning? He hadn’t known the half of it.
