by Mel Curtis
There was nothing wrong with this picture.
“Then stop smiling,” she demanded.
But Evan already had. It was easy to stop smiling when he was seriously in need of air. Kneeling at the feet of a woman who kissed like she was licensed in the art of pleasing a man tended to do that to a guy. Mechanically, he dabbed at her knee when what he wanted to do was draw her down on the pink floor on top of him so she could kiss him again, so he could experience her heat–this time with his dick.
“Ow.” Amber bent to get a better view of what he was doing. Her long auburn tresses draped around them like a privacy curtain, blocking the light, tickling his shoulders, bringing the tropical scent of coconut.
Evan’s entire body tensed. Slowly, he angled his head until his gaze jolted into hers. Her pupils expanded and her eyes became the color of dark chocolate. He stroked one hand down Amber’s trim calf and then up the back of her bare leg, his fingers stopping just below the juncture of her thigh and crotch. She had the soft muscles of a woman. She didn’t know how to use those muscles on the basketball court, but Evan was certain she knew how to use them in bed.
Evan flexed his fingers closer to the thin strip of royal blue silk she’d exposed on the basketball court.
“Evan.” Amber tried to straighten, but she stumbled a bit in the crowded space. “Ow.”
The big toe on her right foot was bloody and dirty. He’d started this game of doctor to push Amber’s buttons, but now he was unexpectedly angry. Goddesses were for pedestals, not fights in the trenches. He shouldn’t have put her on the court. “When did you do this?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
He tried to clean her toe, but he couldn’t see it well. So he stood, letting his empty hand follow the voluptuous curves of her body the rest of the way up–around the top of her thigh, across the swell of her hip, to the curve of her waist and beneath the knotted hem of her top.
Amber’s cheeks were nearly as red as her lips, deepening the pink of her nose. The rest of her skin was a soft, creamy white and warm to his touch. Everyone in L.A. had a tan, most of them from a tanning salon, despite the nearby ocean. Evan used to think a tan made women look sexy, but there was something about the pale shade of Amber’s skin that drew his hand.
“Good thing the doctor makes house calls.” He lifted Amber to the pink tiled counter and stepped between her thighs.
Amber leaned back, but only slightly. Her gaze was riveted on his lips. “You can’t toy with me. I’m not your plaything.”
“I’m done playing.” Evan’s grin wouldn’t go away as he reached around her to rinse out the towel.
“You’re my client, or at least, the client of my client.” Amber’s voice pitched desperately as Evan turned sideways, bent her knee, and drew her foot up for inspection. “Remember?”
“I haven’t signed anything. Right now you only work for Jack.” She had delicate feet, with small, pebbly toes. He daubed at her injury one more time before blowing on her toes.
She gasped. “You’ve done enough.”
“I don’t do anything in half measures. Not on the court and not in bed.” Evan turned to face her, tossing the towel in the sink.
Amber’s cheeks were still rosy. “I’m trying to figure out why I let you touch me.”
“The other night in the club?” He rested his hands on top of her thighs, wanting inside her, needing inside her. “Or now?”
“We just met.” Her evasion answered for her: both the other night and now. “And I…I don’t usually have problems setting limits.”
“Me, either.” Evan was rock hard, more than ready to take Amber here, in the bathroom, and he hadn’t even touched those fantastic tits of hers.
He’d take her here. Now. They’d use the bedroom the second time. And lucky boy that he was, he had two condoms in his wallet, which was enough to let Amber know who was boss. Him.
His hands slid beneath her torn skirt, his fingers beneath the narrow front edge of her thong. “You can always say no.”
Please, don’t say no.
Amber didn’t pull back, but that didn’t stop her from half-heartedly trying to talk him out of it. “I think there’s a client-life coach code that says no sex.”
“If such a code exists–and I doubt it does...” Evan leaned closer until his mouth brushed hers. “ – that would make this wrong.” One of his fingers traced the parting of her inner lips.
“I’ve never actually seen it in print,” she murmured.
That same finger moved to the place his dick was throbbing to enter, touching, teasing, promising pleasure. “Does this feel wrong?”
“No, but tomorrow…”
“There’s no code but the one we make.” He circled her opening with his finger, circled her mouth with his tongue. “On the street, the home team makes the rules. Do you want me to stop?”
In answer, her legs rolled open wider and she shifted so his finger had access to all that moist heat.
“I like it when you run with things.” On the court. Under his touch.
“You have talented hands.” She drew him closer for a kiss and undulated her hips, taking his finger deeper as she captured his mouth.
Slow wasn’t going to be an option. Evan was going to take her quick and follow her down, but first –
Amber moved with a purpose. She was needy and he loved that in a woman, but he didn’t want to get left behind like he had at Tingle. He didn’t want to hand blast her again.
He drew back. “Time out.”
“We’re running so we don’t think. You have to keep up.” Amber stole the hand she wasn’t riding and guided it between the knotted folds of her blouse.
He was helpless to do more than follow her lead. Together they shoved her bra out of the way, until he – Bingo! – had possession of one plump breast.
“Holy-holy.” Evan must have done something right in this life because Amber was his idea of heaven–beautiful, stacked, as horny as he was.
“Harder,” Amber commanded against his lips, her legs wrapping tighter around his waist. Her inner muscles were crowding his finger. She was on the brink and so was he, but this time he wasn’t going to be a bystander.
“Time out. Time out.” He pulled back several inches and went for his wallet.
Amber’s eyes were closed. “Bad idea. My brain wants to stop.”
“We’re not stopping.” His wallet dropped onto the tile floor. He tore open a condom.
Amber’s eyes flew open. She took note of how he was protecting her. Her smile was warm. “Good idea.” Then her hands were at his waist. She sent his shorts and boxer briefs sagging about his ankles. Her skimpy panties followed. Her skirt hitched up at her waist.
Evan barely had the condom rolled on when Amber slid to the edge of the counter, grabbed his shoulders and practically mounted him all by herself.
Okay, that was his fantasy. He’d lifted her up while her hands reached for him, guiding his cock home. The press of his head into all that warm, wet heat was nearly overwhelming.
Sweet Mama. She moaned as she swallowed every inch of him. Or maybe he was the one moaning because she was hot and tight, and he was so close to release his legs trembled.
And then Amber picked up that rolling motion, too soon, too demanding. Evan didn’t have his bearings. He was feeling too much, enjoying too much. His dick was loading, ready to fire.
He came. “Damn it.”
Amber froze. Gaped up at him.
“Oops.” Evan grimaced. “That’s never happened before. Give me a minute.” Probably less. His release had hardly taken the edge off his need for her. His cock was throbbing for more.
“Amber, honey. You left your front door unlocked.” A woman’s voice.
And they hadn’t closed the bathroom door. Amber kicked at it at the same time Evan pushed at it. The door clicked closed. He engaged the lock.
Hello, naughty booby. The breast she’d wanted him to fondle stood brazenly at attention against his chest, bra
and shirt twisted around it. Evan swelled harder with renewed lust.
“Amber?” There was a hitch to the woman’s voice that indicated she was old. She was also closer. In the hallway. “Are you all right?”
“I’m taking a shower, Yvonne,” Amber called back, and then whispered to Evan without looking at anything other than his chest, “You can put me down now.”
“Only if I put you on a bed.” Evan snugged Amber’s hips closer, pumping.
He couldn’t help it. Evan was having an out of body experience. He’d just launched a payload and was near ready to launch again. He shouldn’t reclaim Amber’s tit with his hand. He shouldn’t bury his face in her reddish-brown hair and nibble on her earlobe. He shouldn’t breathe her in as if her scent was the key to making him hard.
“Evan,” Amber exhaled, half protest, half plea.
“Just run with it.” He was crazy hot for her, on the brink of coming again. So hot his balls felt like they might burst. “I want you. I’m hard again and I’ve got to have you. Unless…Unless you say no. Then I’ll stop.” He slowed his strokes and drew a broken breath. “Just…please…don’t say no.”
The rigidity of the countertop. The stark bathroom lights. It was about as romantic as the back seat of a sports car. And yet, their bodies called to each other as if they lay on black silk sheets.
Evan was offering to stop?
Need coiled inside Amber. Between her legs. Around Evan’s cock. She could feel him growing bigger with each stroke. She’d always heard athletes had tremendous endurance. She was experiencing it first hand, and she couldn’t help herself. “Green light. Green light.”
Evan didn’t have to be told twice. His tempo increased to urgent. Their bodies collided with each powerful thrust. He went deep and then deeper, creating a numbing heat inside Amber that spiraled and built and–
“Who’s car is out front?” Yvonne called, her voice carrying down the hallway and through the closed bathroom door.
Amber jerked upright, fearing discovery.
Grunting, Evan convulsed, throwing his head back and holding her hips in place.
“Really? Twice?” Amber blurted in a hoarse whisper, before calling out, “That’s a friend’s car, Yvonne. He…he went for a short walk.” Damn athletes. All promise and no go. And she hadn’t even unpacked her vibrator. With her luck, the batteries would be dead.
Whether this couple wants to admit it or not, they want to get things right in the sack.
A vehicle pulled up. The engine shut off. A door closed.
Heart pounding, Amber thought she heard a soft tread on the front walk.
“Damn paparazzi.” She flung the door open and hurled a balloon at the figure on the porch. With a satisfying double splat, Amber hit her target and reached for more ammo.
“What the fuck are you doing?” That voice. Deep. Angry. Familiar.
Amber spun around. “Evan?”
One tall, wet basketball player stepped close enough for her to make out his foreboding features, to hear the drops of water hit the pavement as he wrung his black T-shirt. “You want to explain?”
“Sorry.” Adrenaline left her knees trembling. “You seem to have gotten caught in the cross-fire.”
“Is this some kinky sex game you and Decklin play?” Evan’s voice promised retribution.
Amber peered past him, trying to discern whether a black SUV was at the curb.
“Does Decklin drive an SUV? One pulled away as I drove up.”
“That would be the red capped photographer who’s been harassing me every night.” Amber sighed. She’d have to fill more balloons and wait up longer for his return.
“The guy from Patrick’s?”
“Yes. Look, I’d ask you in, but I need to get ready for his next drive-by.”
Evan filled the doorway. “So Decklin isn’t here?”
“Why would Kent…?” Amber redirected her attention to the large, dripping man occupying shadows in front of her. A wave of awareness washed over her, sending heat to body parts that should have known better then to turn on when this man was near.
The old clock on the mantel chimed midnight. There was no photographer lurking outside. And even if there had been, there wasn’t enough light to take a decent photo. If ever there was a perfect moment to give in to sin, it was now. But Amber couldn’t do it, not when she cared for Evan and he…well, he just wanted her really bad.
Amber wet her lips and forced air into her lungs. “As you can see I’m fine, fully capable of defending myself. Good night, Mr. Client.”
His chuckle promised trouble. “How about a good night kiss first, Rambo?”
Amber took an involuntary step backward, thrusting her right hand at him. “I think it’s more appropriate for a life coach to shake hands, don’t you?”
“No,” Evan growled as he gathered Amber to him and fed her a kiss that sent a bolt of electricity through her limbs, knocking out her defenses. His lips were firm, his tongue demanding, as if to say the time for evasive maneuvers and repartee was over. The time had come to yield.
If only she could forfeit her body and not her heart.
“Invite me in,” Evan murmured against her mouth. There was something different about him tonight. He was always challenging. But tonight he was purposeful. “Tell me the truce is over and you want to run with this. If only for tonight.”
“One night?” Amber hesitated. She could cling to the gray area that Evan wasn’t a paying client for one night. She could lose herself in the pleasure of his body. She could taste and touch and take.
And hate herself in the morning. There was no way a force like Evan Oliver wouldn’t leave damage in his wake. Her heart was in danger of wanting him over all others. Her integrity was on shaky ground. And her reputation if anyone found out…
One night with Evan? Who was she kidding? It wouldn’t be enough.
“God, you’re beautiful.” Evan blazed a trail of kisses beneath her chin, pausing to nibble on her neck below her ear. “Invite me in, Amber. Or I swear, I’ll walk away forever and we’ll both regret it.”
“But…” The sparks of desire made it hard to argue.
“You and I…” He rubbed his stubbled cheek against her neck. “We’ve been on different pages. Let’s get on the same page. Here. Now. Everything else will work out, I promise.”
He promised. She capitulated.
Cradling Evan’s face in her hands, Amber looked into his eyes and whispered, “Come in.”
Evan kissed her in the doorway, his arms encircling, tightening, possessing, eliminating the distance between their bodies until all that separated them was wet cotton.
Amber wanted to laugh. She wanted to cry. She wanted to hold her breath and savor this moment when they both called a truce with desire.
Somehow Evan managed to close the door and lock it, moving Amber slowly back into the house in a sensual dance that made her giggle. She laughed again in the midst of Evan’s kiss, despite his hands stroking her back and bottom, despite the building need. She laughed because she was free to touch, to explore and to give the gift of herself to this complex man.
And then Amber realized the Foundation secrets were behind her. If Evan crossed the living room to her wing, she’d have to turn the lights on when he left. He’d see Dooley’s pictures. He’d ask. He’d wonder.
There was only one detour to make. To the left. To her father’s wing.
Evan chose that moment to lift Amber, and wrap her legs around his waist. He didn’t grunt or stagger with effort. He didn’t heave a huge breathe. His size made her feel small. His strength made her feel delicate. His hunger made her feel cherished.
He carried her–presumably–toward her bedroom. Amber grabbed onto the corner of the wall where the hall branched left.
“Down here,” she whispered, trying not to panic as she directed him toward her father’s room. She had to concentrate on the good things–his breath mingling with hers, his hands stroking her body, his arms holding her as
if he’d never let go.
Evan found the bedroom, set her feet on the floor and reached to flick on the light.
“No,” Amber strove to keep her voice calm. “There’s enough light for now.” The bedroom was bathed in moonlight, obscuring details and the garishness.
“You’re so beautiful.” Evan’s words skimmed across Amber’s cheek like an urgent caress, making her believe she’d gotten rid of that awkward, insecure, overweight girl for good. “I want to see you.”
“We’ll turn on the lights later.” She spun Evan so that his back was to the light switch and cradled his face in her hands. She had to keep Evan’s attention on her. Her father’s collection of sex toys was within easy reach. She refused to speculate what Evan would say when he saw them. After they’d fooled around once or twice, and Amber snuck away to hide the twelve pictures. Then she’d drag him to her room and turn on all the lights. “I can’t believe you chose me. I just…You amaze me.”
“You ain’t seen nothing yet.”
“I mean, all the time.” She cradled his cheek. “On and off the court. You amaze me.”
In the dim light, his gray eyes appeared dark and dangerous. “Strip.”
Her heart dropped to her toes. “Wow,” she managed to choke out. “What happened to foreplay?”
“We’ve had foreplay for weeks.” In a blink, he peeled away her damp T-shirt and skimmed her yoga pants to her ankles, helping her to step out of them. With lips hovering just above hers, Evan’s flat hands skated over her bra, pressing deep into her peaks and valleys. “Lace. Very little padding. Clasp in the back? White?”
“Yes.” Amber expelled a ragged breath.
“I prefer black or nothing at all.” Evan brushed his mouth over hers while he reached around to slip the hooks off with nimble fingers.
Her breasts tumbled free.
Amber stood before Evan in a thong, trembling for his touch. A touch that didn’t come. “Why…why are you staring at me? It’s too dark in here to see anything.” Wasn’t it? She’d die of embarrassment if he saw the sexually explicit wallpaper, her father’s sex toys or the round water bed.
