by Erika Wilde
She gasped, her fingers flexing against his scalp, a bundle of restless, pent-up sexual energy. “Cole…” Still on her knees, she shifted and rubbed her covered pussy against his belly, narrowly missing the blunt tip of his erection. “I need you to touch me.”
While her words were vague about what pleasure zone needed his attention the most, her body spoke a desperate language he instinctively understood. He knew exactly where she ached, knew precisely what she yearned for. And it was her uninhibited request that made him a slave to her every whim.
Releasing her breast from the wet suction of his mouth, he watched her candid expression as he skimmed his palms up her sleek thighs and came to a stop when the tips of his fingers made contact with the edge of her panties. The fact that her lower body was still submersed in the gurgling, white-capped water made his touch that much more illicit.
He glided the pad of his thumb along the wet silk covering her mound, pressed deeper, and she jerked in reaction. “Are you sure this is what you want, Mel?” he rasped.
Her lashes fluttered closed, and her breath came in small, anxious pants. “Oh, yes, please,” she pleaded shamelessly.
Having gained her acquiescence, he deliberately forced her knees wider apart on either side of his thighs by spreading his legs, which also released an upward torrent of bubbles from the small jets in the seat of his chaise. Pulling the elastic band of her underwear to the side, those massage jets found a home at the crux of her thighs, tickling, teasing, and heightening her need for release, but apparently, not providing enough friction to push her over the edge.
“Oh, my, God,” she groaned and gripped his shoulders, her entire body trembling.
A few firm strokes of his thumb along her clit would have done the trick, he knew, but he wasn’t about to let her have her orgasm that easily. She’d twisted him up in knots twice now with her erotic letters and brazen seduction, and it was only fair that he repay the favor.
Cupping the back of her head in his free hand, he brought the shell of her ear to his mouth and shared a fantasy of his own with her. “Imagine that every touch of those bubbles is my tongue, licking and tasting and probing right here,” he murmured in a low, raspy tone as he swept his thumb along the swollen folds of her sex, while working a long finger inside of her, then two, stretching her to accommodate his penetration. She was tight and slick, and he groaned against her neck as her inner muscles clutched at him and drew him deeper still.
She rocked her hips toward him with a needful whimper, and he thrust his fingers slowly, rhythmically into her. “Can you feel me inside of you, Mel?”
All she managed was an inarticulate sound.
Doing the unthinkable, he replaced the slide of his thumb against her clit with the throbbing head of his dick and rubbed, eliciting a low growl of pleasure from his throat and a startled gasp from her.
“You feel so damned good.” And more than anything he wanted to bury himself in her heat and be a part of her orgasm when she came.
Accepting that that particular fantasy wasn’t going to happen, ever, he instead catered to fulfilling hers. Bringing her sweet mouth back to his, he kissed her while increasing the pressure and friction of his fingers, his sole focus on her pleasure. The tremors buffeting through her body finally shattered, and she came with a stifled sob against his lips.
With her face pressed tight against his damp throat and her arms wrapped around his neck, she lowered herself back into the churning, steaming water and onto his lap. Then she slumped into him, utterly limp and sated.
He wished he could claim the same, but knew he was in for another long, sleepless night. With her draped over him as she regained her breath, he held her close, and then stiffened when he felt her insinuate her hand between them and curl her fingers around his pulsing, excruciatingly sensitive shaft.
He sucked in a quick inhale as her thumb grazed the tip, and he grasped her wrist to stop her sensual assault. “No, Mel,” he rasped, his protest weak, but necessary.
She glanced up at him, her brown eyes deep pools of rekindled desire, and confusion. “Don’t you want—”
“Hell, yes, I want,” he interrupted gruffly, refusing to lie when she held proof of his need for her in her slender hand. “But we can’t have sex.” And he wasn’t in the mood to go it solo while she watched.
“We?” she said, a frustrated note seeping into her soft voice. “I can speak for myself, Cole. I know it might be hard for you to believe, but I am a consenting adult who has every right to say yes to having sex with a man. With you, even.”
A fact she’d made more than obvious tonight. As calmly as he could manage, he said, “Mel, I don’t have any condoms with me or in the house.”
He wasn’t sure she believed him, though it was the absolute truth. Since his last affair months ago, no opportunity had arisen to make him rush out and buy a box of prophylactics. Now he was grateful he didn’t have any on hand, because it was the only thing keeping him from making a huge mistake with Melodie.
Squeezing him in her fist, she leaned forward and dragged her tongue from his collarbone up to his ear, and whispered, “Then why don’t you let me pleasure you?”
His hips bucked in reaction, sliding his erection along her snug grip, and he swore as he nearly came right then. This time he pulled her hand completely away, then lifted her from his lap and set her back on one of the other seats. “You’re driving me crazy,” he muttered. And this growing obsession with her had to stop.
“Why is that such a bad thing?” she asked quietly.
“Because…” He plowed his fingers through his hair, dampening the strands. “Because I can’t give you what you need.” There, he’d said the words, blunt and to the point.
Wicked amusement danced in her eyes. “I think you just did.”
He shook his head at her frank and sexual reply, still amazed that his secretary had metamorphosed into such a bold vixen. It was obvious she wasn’t giving up on her pursuit, which made him more determined to be brutally honest with her.
“Physically, yes, I gave you what you needed, but emotionally I can’t. I don’t want entanglements or anything complicated, Mel. With anyone.” And especially her. He wouldn’t jeopardize his bachelor status or his relationship with her father for a hot night of sex with her.
She dipped lower into the whirlpool, until the water lapped over her bare shoulders. “To my recollection, I haven’t asked for either, just a chance to accompany you to the charity auction for the Russell case.”
He hardened his resolve and narrowed his gaze at her. “What happened tonight won’t change my mind about that.”
She touched her tongue to her upper lip, damp with beads of perspiration from the heat of the water, then sighed. “Then I guess I haven’t been trying hard enough.”
“Hard” definitely seemed to be a fitting choice of word for the evening, considering his body wasn’t even close to settling down. And to think that she was intent on continuing this seduction of hers was enough to keep him permanently aroused. He felt as though he was sitting in a cauldron of boiling water, ready to explode, and this conversation with Melodie wasn’t helping.
Without further argument, he climbed out of the hot tub, giving her a brief glimpse of his naked ass before he dove into the adjoining pool. The startling impact of the cold water rushing along his overheated skin was just what he needed to put things back into proper perspective. Unfortunately, nothing could tame his raging hormones and the undeniable need he’d developed for Melodie Turner.
Damn her anyway, for turning his orderly world upside down.
He executed a dozen laps across the pool without stopping, releasing as much tension as possible and pushing himself to the brink of physical exhaustion. When he finally came up for more than a single breath of air, he noticed Melodie was no longer in the hot tub.
She was gone, just as he wanted.
So why did he feel so damned disappointed to find himself alone once again?
CHAPTER EIGHT
Cole strolled into Murphy’s Bar and Grill after work Thursday evening and scanned the patrons sitting at the tables in the lounge area. He searched for a certain brown-haired man while nodding hellos to acquaintances and lifting a friendly hand to the owner of the restaurant, who was making drinks for the crowd.
“What’ll it be, Sommers?” Murphy called from his position behind the mahogany-and-brass bar, which gleamed from nightly polishing. “The usual?”
“That would be great, Murph.” Cole glanced around once more, didn’t see who he was looking for, and berated himself for arriving late when he’d had every intention of showing up early. He returned his attention to the owner. “Have you seen Richard Turner by any chance? I was supposed to meet him here at seven.” And much to his chagrin, it was nearly twenty-five after.
“Yep. I saw him walking toward the john.” The older man hooked a finger down the hallway leading to the bathrooms as he placed a drink at the end of the bar for the waitress to pick up. “He’s sitting at that corner booth in the back with the empty martini glass on it. I’ll send over a refill for him, too.”
“Thanks.” Cole headed in the direction of the table, the path through the lounge a very familiar one, as were the distinct sounds of customers playing pool and darts and generally having a good time.
Ever since Cole had turned twenty-one, he’d adopted his father’s watering hole as his own hangout, mainly because he knew the regular patrons at Murphy’s, most of whom had been friends or colleagues of his father’s from his days as a cop. Murphy’s was also an unpretentious, blue-collar establishment where he could escape to and relax after a long day at the office.
Tonight he was undoubtedly tense, and he was positive no amount of alcohol could ease the knot in his stomach and the muscles bunched tight across his shoulders. Not when Melodie’s father had called him at the office to request that Cole meet him at Murphy’s for a drink because he had something important to talk to him about.
Talk about what, exactly, Cole had no idea, though he’d spent the better part of the afternoon worrying and wondering. Richard had sounded troubled on the phone, enough so to make Cole a bit nervous about what was on the other man’s mind that concerned him.
With a deep exhale that did nothing to ease the pressure in his chest, he slid onto the seat and settled himself in the booth to wait for Richard’s return. Self-reproach had hung over him like a black cloud since the night with Mel in the hot tub, allowing him no peace of mind. While he’d managed to keep things between himself and Melodie strictly businesslike for the past two days, he suddenly felt as though every one of the sinful and erotic deeds he’d indulged in with Mel was stamped on his forehead for her father to see.
“Here’s your beer,” a soft, feminine voice said, a welcome interruption to his agonizing thoughts. With a friendly, tentative smile, the bar waitress set a glass of tap on the table in front of him, along with his favorite snack. “And Murphy said you always like a bowl of roasted peanuts to go with it.”
“Yeah, I do.” He grinned easily in return, noticing like every other guy in the place that the blond-haired, blue-eyed angel owned a body straight out of the centerfold of a magazine. She wore the requisite bar uniform of jeans and a kelly-green T-shirt with Murphy’s Bar and Grill emblazoned across her well-endowed chest.
Despite her obvious attributes, she did nothing to spark his interest. No, it seemed he was hooked on a certain brown-eyed brunette who was all wrong for him.
He shifted his attention to her name tag, then met her gaze, which she quickly focused elsewhere, as if she were trying to hide something. A ridiculous notion, considering he didn’t even know her. “You must be new here, Natalie.”
“I am,” she verified as she set Richard’s fresh martini on the table, then cleared off the empty glass and soiled napkin he’d left behind. “You’ll have to bear with me. I’m slowly learning who the regulars are and what they like.”
“Well, if any of them give you a hard time, you let me know,” he said in a way that was completely lighthearted and meant to make her relax.
She laughed and tipped her head to regard him closer. “Are you a cop, too?”
“No, a PI, but the instincts are pretty much the same.” He took a quick swallow of his beer to quench his thirst, then introduced himself while pulling his leather billfold from his back pocket to pay for the drink. “I’m Cole Sommers, by the way, and you’ve probably met my brother by now since he’s a regular here, too. His name is Noah.”
Recognition flashed in her eyes, then her expression turned guarded. “Yes, as a matter of fact, I have met him. He’s quite the flirt—and a great tipper.” Her voice held nuances of gentle humor.
Cole wondered if his brother had tried to make a play for the beauty, and wouldn’t have been surprised if Noah had attempted to work his charm on her. Except she didn’t seem the type to fall for a sexy grin or a playful advance. There was a certain caution and vulnerability about her that was apparent to him as a trained investigator and he hoped Noah picked up on it and steered clear.
Opening his wallet, he withdrew a large bill and dropped it on her tray. “Keep the change, Natalie.”
She lifted a brow in surprise. “Big tippers run in the family, huh?”
He gave a shrug. “I wouldn’t want word to get out, especially to my brother, that I’m a cheap tipper.”
She smiled in appreciation, though a bit of mischief touched her features. “Thank you, and I’m sure if Noah finds out that his brother has out-tipped him, it’ll only work to my favor.”
Cole chuckled, watching the woman move on to take an order from another customer, until he caught sight of Richard heading toward their table and remembered the reason he’d come to Murphy’s tonight.
He’d been summoned.
The older man slid into the opposite side of the booth and Cole immediately acknowledged his tardiness. “I’m sorry I’m late.”
“No need to apologize.” Richard waved a hand between them, dismissing his words. “You know I of all people understand work and last-minute crises. I figured if you couldn’t make it tonight you would have called.”
Cole wondered if Richard would be so understanding about the craving he’d recently developed for his daughter, then gave himself a hard mental shake. Two years ago when Melodie had applied for the position of secretary, her father had asked him to hire her on, essentially entrusting his daughter to Cole’s care. She’d become a valued employee, and Richard had been content and satisfied knowing his daughter was working for a reputable, honorable man.
A bark of cynical laughter nearly erupted from Cole’s throat, but he managed to keep it tamped with a swallow of beer. Oh, yeah, he was one honorable son of a bitch. He’d taken advantage of Melodie when he should have had the strength and fortitude to resist her advances.
He was quickly realizing he had no self-control where she was concerned. And that was yet another personal issue that rubbed him raw since he’d always prided himself on remaining cool and collected during any situation. And especially when it involved a woman.
Scooping up a peanut, he cracked open the shell, tossed the nut into his mouth, and chewed. “I got the impression on the phone that this isn’t a normal social call. Is everything okay, Richard?”
“With me?” He stirred his martini with the green olive garnish. “Oh, yeah, I’m doing great.”
Cole agreed that Richard looked more relaxed than he’d seen him in a long time. “Retirement certainly looks good on you.”
“It’s not half bad.” He grinned, his brown eyes twinkling with animation. “I spend my days cutting it up on the golf course and most of my evenings dazzling the ladies at the country club with my dance moves and witty conversation.”
Cole laughed, amazed and delighted to hear that this man who’d immersed himself in his work as a sergeant for the Oakland Police Department for so many years was finally enjoying a social life of his own.
Richard sm
acked his lips after taking a drink of his martini, a touch of melancholy in his gaze, another contradiction to the no-nonsense attitude Cole had always known this man to possess. “You know, son, it’s taken retirement for me to realize that I never really took the time to smell the roses along the way, and I overlooked a whole lot of opportunities that could have given me a richer, fuller life.”
Surprised by Richard’s confession, Cole merely nodded and ate a few more shelled peanuts, unsure where this odd conversation was heading. Obviously the man felt the need to talk, and the least he could do was lend a listening ear.
Richard stared into the clear depths of liquid in his glass and sighed. “After Mel’s mother’s death I focused my extra time on my daughter and spent all my energy on work in an effort to ease the pain of losing Lauren. I never thought I could love another woman as much as I loved her, so I didn’t even bother to date. Not seriously, anyway.”
He lifted his gaze back to Cole, a small frown marring his brows. “Everything I ever felt for Lauren I gave to Mel to compensate for the loss of her mother. I wanted to make sure that she never doubted she was loved, and that she was raised with the best of everything. And that included sending her to a private all-girls school so she could be around friends her own age who understood the female changes she was going through, and so she’d focus on her studies instead of being distracted by other outside influences, like boys and parties, and that sort of thing. I just wanted her to have every opportunity and advantage so she’d grow into an intelligent woman who’d make levelheaded choices in her life.”
“You did an amazing job with her,” Cole said, reassuring the other man. “She’s turned into a very capable woman.” Too capable, he thought privately, especially when it came to seducing him.
