Heat of the Night

by Elle Kennedy

  “What are you, five? Give it back. That’s personal property,” she snapped.

  Rolling his eyes, he obligingly handed her the list, which got soaked the second her wet hand clutched it. The ink began to smear, and for some asinine reason, she fanned the sheet to stop the smearing. What was the matter with her? A total stranger had just become privy to all her secret fantasies and she was trying to preserve the words? She ought to be burning the damn thing.

  “Don’t worry,” Ryan said graciously. “I memorized it.”

  She set her jaw. “You had no business reading that.”

  “Maybe not, but I did, and now it’s branded into my memory.” He sighed. “It kept me up all night, you know. There I was, tossing and turning, wondering where we should go to take care of number four. A park? Out here in the pool? The back alley of a bar? Damn, the possibilities are endless, Annabelle.”

  Number four? What was he—her cheeks burned. Sex in public (preferably a place without security cameras). Oh God. She couldn’t believe he’d actually memorized it. The last time she’d been this embarrassed was back in the third grade, when her frenemy Joan poured water on Annabelle’s crotch and proceeded to tell the entire class she’d peed her pants.

  “We are not going anywhere,” she said stiffly. “I, on the other hand, am leaving now.” Her back was ramrod straight as she stomped toward the chair where she’d dropped her towel.

  She felt Ryan’s eyes on her as she dried off, and she knew he was ogling her tiny bikini. A sick part of her was even a little flattered, but the embarrassed part overruled it, pushing her to dry off faster and wrap the towel around herself.

  “So is that a no?” Ryan asked, cocking his head casually.

  “Huh?”

  “You won’t let me help you?” he clarified.

  She frowned. “Help me do what?”

  “Cross out all those dirty items on your dirty list.” He offered a charming smile. “Look, it’s obvious you can’t carry out some of those, uh, activities, alone. I’m just offering my services, babe.”

  “Again with the babe?” She huffed out a breath. “I don’t want or need your help. That list was intended for someone else.”

  He paused. “You’ve got a boyfriend?”

  “Yes.” She hesitated. “No. Well, maybe.”

  “Which is it, yes, no or maybe?”

  She fought a wave of exasperation. “All of them, okay! I have a boyfriend, a sort of fiancé, but we’re on a break right now. Not that it’s any of your business.”

  “A sort of fiancé?” he echoed.

  “It’s a long story.” She grabbed her clothes from the chair, then slipped her wet feet into her flip-flops. “You are the pushiest guy I’ve ever met, you know that?”

  A thoughtful expression flitted over his face. “I’ve never been called pushy before. Endearing, sure. Charismatic. Drop-dead gorgeous. A real-life Michelangelo’s David. But never pushy.”

  A laugh slipped out of her throat before she could stop herself. “A real-life Michelangelo’s David? Wow. You are so full of yourself, I don’t even know what to do with that.”

  “You could do me,” he said glibly.

  Her thighs quivered. Just a little. Oh, for Pete’s sake. She needed to get away from this guy. He was too freaking tempting, and right now, she needed to avoid temptation. She’d left San Francisco to think about her relationship with Bryce, not jump into a fling with a guy who had major over-confidence issues.

  “I won’t even dignify that with an answer,” she said, taking a step toward the lawn. “I’m leaving now.”

  He shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

  She was halfway across the grass when he called, “Annabelle!”

  Reluctantly, she turned. “Yeah?”

  “If you change your mind, I’m in 2B.” His handsome features were the epitome of cocky.

  Without answering, she kept walking, not allowing herself to breathe until she was inside the building. Her breath came out in a shaky puff. Jeez, why did he have to be so damn attractive? If she were here under different circumstances, then maybe…maybe she’d act out all of her wildest fantasies with this guy. But her heart still belonged to Bryce. Kind of. God, she wasn’t the least bit sure how she felt about Bryce. They’d been in a serious relationship since she was eighteen years old, living together when she turned twenty, officially engaged when she was twenty-three. And yet he’d broken things off, as if their entire relationship didn’t mean a thing to him.

  Not a break-up, time off, a condescending voice reminded her.

  Right, time off was how he’d phrased it. Well, she hadn’t wanted time off. He’d gone and made that decision for the both of them.

  With an unhappy sigh, she went back to Christina’s apartment, suddenly cursing Ryan for ruining her day. All she’d wanted to do was lounge around in the pool, and now she was back in the apartment, sulking again. A tiny beeping caught her attention before she could head into the bedroom to change. Her cell phone sat on the kitchen counter, making annoying sounds that informed her she had a new voicemail. She figured it was her parents, as usual, but when she glanced at the caller ID, she noticed the call had come from Melinda, one of the assistants at the event company where she worked.

  “Shit,” she muttered, draping her towel on the back of one of the tall stools by the counter and picking up the phone. She hoped there wasn’t some big emergency at work. Her boss had assured her she wouldn’t be missed, since October was a slow month for them.

  She dialed into her inbox and waited for the message to come on. When it did, her entire body turned to ice.

  “Hey, Annabelle,” came Melinda’s somewhat hesitant voice. “I know you’re on vacation, and I hate to bother you, especially with something like this.” A pause. “I was hoping you’d pick up, I hate to mention this in a voicemail, but…um, did you and Bryce break up? I only ask because I saw him last night at the Sheppard event and he was, um, with someone. They looked pretty close, too. I wasn’t sure if you knew about it and I don’t want to be the bearer of bad news, you know, but I just thought you should know. Anyway…uh, I’ll see you when you get back.”

  Click.

  “To delete this message,” a mechanical voice chirped, “press one. To save, press two. To—”

  Annabelle hit the end button, then stared down at the phone for several long moments. Anger clawed up her spine, settling in the back of her throat in a thick, bitter lump. He’d already started seeing other people? What the hell? They were engaged to be married! Sure, he hadn’t bought her the ring yet, but he’d proposed, and their respective parents were already planning the damn wedding. How could Bryce do this?

  Gulping down the fury coating her throat, Annabelle drew in a deep calming breath, willing her muscles to relax. She couldn’t believe it. Obviously he’d been dead serious when he said he wanted to see other people. He was already gallivanting all over San Francisco, getting close to some woman at a nightclub event her company had planned. What. An. Asshole.

  And here she was, fighting off the advances of a ridiculously cute and appealing guy, out of respect for Bryce.

  Well, screw him. He didn’t deserve her respect.

  If anything, he deserved a healthy dose of payback.

  Dropping the cell phone back on the counter, Annabelle straightened her shoulders and headed back to the front door. She didn’t bother getting her towel. Instead, she walked out the door wearing her teeny-weeny bikini, her bare feet slapping against the tiled floor out in the hall. She hurried down the stairs and when she reached the second floor, she glanced up and down the hall until she saw it. 2B. She made a beeline for the apartment, then stood in front of the door for a second, steadying her breathing and collecting some courage.

  She could totally do this. In fact, she wanted to do it. She wanted it very, very badly.

  Lifting her hand in determination, she knocked on the door.

  Chapter Three

  Ryan was not at all surprised to find
Annabelle standing on his doorstep. If anything, he was wondering what took her so long. He had enough experience with women to know when someone was into him, and no matter how many times Annabelle tried to brush him off, he had no doubt that she wanted to jump his bones. Still, he wasn’t going to let her off the hook so easily.

  “Finished playing hard to get?” he asked pleasantly.

  Annabelle’s mouth tightened. “You’re going to make this hard for me, aren’t you?”

  “Yep.”

  He opened the door wider and gestured for her to come in. She did, but looked very reluctant doing so. Wary, she glanced around the apartment, taking in the leather couch, the state-of-the-art entertainment system and the two beer bottles on the glass coffee table. Above the couch was an Angelina Jolie calendar, flipped open to the October snapshot showing Angie stretched across a recliner. It was the typical bachelor pad, but Ryan didn’t care. He was, after all, a bachelor.

  “Do you have a stripper pole in the bedroom?” Annabelle asked dryly.

  “If I did, would you do a sexy dance for me?”

  “Nope.”

  “Figured I’d ask.”

  Looking awkward, she leaned against the arm of the sofa, her abundant curves practically pouring out of her indecent yellow bikini. She looked good enough to eat, but Ryan kept his distance. Women always needed to set some ground rules, and this particular woman probably had a whole slew of them. He already knew she liked to make lists.

  “Three weeks,” she began. “I’m here for three weeks, so that’s all you’re going to get from me.”

  He couldn’t help but laugh. “You make it sound like you’re doing me a favor. I think it’s the other way around, Annie.”

  She bristled. “Don’t call me Annie.”

  “Whatever you want, babe.”

  “Don’t call me babe either.” She rested her hand on the couch and tapped her fingers nervously. “So, um, about the list…”

  He patiently waited for her to continue.

  “It wasn’t serious or anything.” Her brown eyes avoided his. “I was just joking around.”

  “Liar. You’re dying to do each and every thing on that list,” Ryan said, laughing again.

  He could see her biting the inside of her cheek. “Maybe some things.”

  Ryan took a step closer, noticing that her breath hitched as he did so. He could see her pulse throbbing in her throat, and a faint flush had spread just above her breasts. Oh yeah. She was totally turned on. Good. “How about we start with good old number one then?”

  He stopped when they were only inches away. Her breasts were practically touching his T-shirt, and he couldn’t wait to feel her nipples poking against his bare chest. “What’s number one again?” she asked, sounding breathless.

  “Sex somewhere other than a bed,” he recited.

  She sighed. “Jeez, you really did memorize it.”

  “Couldn’t help it. I have a photographic memory.”

  “Or you’re just a pervert.”

  “That too.” He flashed her a grin. “You like me, though.”

  “Maybe.”

  He eliminated the last inch between them, pressing his body against hers. A shaky breath flew out of her mouth. “Maybe?” he teased.

  “Fine, I like you,” she blurted out. She paused for a second, then tilted her head to meet his eyes. “So, um, how do we do this?”

  He froze. “Don’t tell me you’re a virgin.”

  “I’m not a virgin,” she huffed. “I just haven’t had sex with many strangers, okay?” She hesitated again. “Do you want me to take my bikini off?”

  Ryan let out a low laugh. “That’s a good start.”

  His pulse sped up as he watched her raise her arms and reach for the tie behind her neck. Anticipation coiled in his gut. Annabelle, however—and why wasn’t he surprised?—prolonged that anticipation. Rather than untying her bikini top, she narrowed her eyes and said, “I think you should do it first.”

  “Do what?”

  “Get naked. Because really, why should the girl always undress first? You’re so sexist, Roger.”

  He sighed. “Do you always have to overanalyze every last detail?”

  “Yes.”

  “Fine. Then overanalyze this.”

  Before she could respond, he dipped his head and captured her mouth with his. The kiss shut her up completely, and soon she was rubbing her breasts against his chest like a contented cat. Fuck, she tasted sweet. Ryan slipped his tongue in her mouth, licking and exploring, while his hands drifted south to rest on her firm ass. She made a little whimper sound, then deepened the kiss. When her tongue entered his mouth, he groaned, as blood pooled in his groin and his cock thickened against her belly.

  She reached down between them and rubbed him over his shorts, eliciting another groan from deep in his throat. The who-undresses-first debate went up in flames and soon they were both tugging at their own clothes. Her bathing suit was flung across the room, his shorts ended up under the couch, and who knew what happened to his T-shirt. Ryan didn’t care. His entire body was on fire. So was Annabelle’s, judging by the rosy flush rising on her smooth, golden skin.

  “Fuck, you’re sexy,” he rasped, his gaze taking in every inch of her naked body.

  She had an hourglass figure, with a curvy little ass he couldn’t help but dig his fingers into. He squeezed her buttocks, then feasted his eyes on her smooth mound. Her pussy was completely bare, which made his mouth go dry and his tongue tingle. Damn, he couldn’t wait to taste her. His cock bobbed against her stomach as he drew her close again, kissing her hard and deep, and then he slid down to his knees and pressed a soft kiss right between her legs.

  Annabelle gasped, teetering on her feet. “Oh, God. That’s…so good.”

  Steadying her with his hands, he brought her to his mouth again, dragging his tongue up and down her slit in featherlight strokes. Her soft moans egged him on. He loved hearing a woman moan for him.

  He hated taking his mouth away, but Annabelle kept swaying like she might keel over, so, with a laugh, he gripped her hips with his hands and said, “Get down here.”

  The living room floor probably wasn’t the most comfortable site in the world, but Annabelle didn’t even blink as she stretched out on her back, her curvy body spread out beneath him like a juicy holiday dinner.

  “I feel like such a slut,” she breathed, looking half-amused and half-worried. “We don’t even know each other.”

  “Yeah, but I’m dying to get to know you,” he replied, settling himself between her thighs.

  His cock ached to slide inside her, but he wasn’t finished with her yet. Straddling her, he bent down to kiss one of her distended nipples, sucking it deep in his mouth. She made a sexy little sound and then tangled her fingers in his hair and pulled him even closer. He suckled and licked, cupping her breasts with both hands and kissing all that smooth, silky flesh.

  “You are such a tease,” Annabelle said, sounding breathless and excited and of course, slightly irritated. “Will you just get inside me already?”

  “Sure.” He slipped one hand between her legs and pushed two fingers deep in her pussy.

  They both groaned.

  She was soaking wet, and he quickly slid down her body again, his mouth desperate to lap up all those sweet juices. He swirled his tongue over her clit, then dragged it down her wet folds and thrust it deep inside her.

  Annabelle moaned, her hips moving restlessly as he went down on her. “God, you’re good at that,” she mumbled. She made a wheezing sound. “And if you say it’s because you’ve had a lot of practice, I’ll slap you.”

  He laughed against her pussy. Yep, sarcastic even during sex. He’d known she would be, and damn, but he loved it. He also loved driving her wild, which he continued to do, flicking his tongue over her clit, licking every inch of her until she was moaning uncontrollably. He sucked her clit deep in his mouth. Her sweet taste made him dizzy with lust, and his cock throbbed, hard and full and dyin
g for release.

  Annabelle moved her hips faster, her breathing heavy, but just as he felt her clit pulse against his lips, he drew back. He had a crazy urge to see her eyes when she came. Abruptly, he shot to his feet, his cock poking out like an angry sword.

  “Where do you think you’re going?” Annabelle grumbled.

  “Condom,” he said hoarsely.

  He went from the living room to the bathroom and back to the living room in less than a minute. Ten seconds after that, he had a rubber on and was entering Annabelle with one swift thrust.

  “Oh Jesus,” he hissed out. She was so tight he nearly exploded from the feel of her inner muscles clamped around his dick like a vise. “Are you always this tight?”

  “Probably. You want me to poll my other lovers?”

  A laugh lodged in his throat. “No, please don’t.”

  “Okay.” She pressed her palm on his chest and stroked his pecs. “Can we stop talking now?”

  Her touch seared his skin, causing beads of sweat to pop out on his forehead. Damn, he liked her touch. He liked everything about her—her dark-brown hair fanned out on the floor, her rigid dark-pink nipples, the leg she’d hooked around his waist, the kung-fu grip of her pussy. She looked so fucking hot lying there beneath him, and he had no problem shutting up. In fact, he lost all capacity for speech as he started to move inside her.

  Annabelle moved with him, lifting her ass and meeting him thrust for thrust, while her fingernails dug into his back, eliciting little sparks of pain mingled with pleasure.

  “I need…fuck,” he swore. “I need to be deeper.”

  With a husky growl, he grabbed hold of one of her legs and lifted it up to his shoulder, pushing his cock into her as deep as it would go. Annabelle cried out, a wild throaty sound ringing with pleasure. He nearly came right there and then as he watched her slide her own hand down her body so she could rub her clit.

  Biting her full bottom lip, she met his gaze, then parted her lips, moaned and orgasmed.

  It was the sexiest sight he’d ever seen, and he wasn’t far behind her, especially when she lifted her head to his shoulder and bit into his flesh, still whimpering and rocking beneath him. Ryan let go, shuddering as a burst of sheer pleasure rocketed through his body, sizzling through his blood and nearly stopping his heart. His climax made the world spin, and by the time his shoulders sagged and his chest collapsed onto Annabelle, he felt ravaged and exhausted and so fucking sated.