Читать книгу Forever In Lingerie - Gina Gordon - Страница 9

Chapter 4

Rob rummaged through the bathroom cabinet searching for his prescription painkillers. The throbbing behind his eyes got worse by the minute. Unfortunately, he hadn’t been quick enough to catch the headache and nip it in the bud.

His training session this afternoon had gone a little long. Long, but necessary. Only two months until the race but the over-exertion took its toll on his fragile head. That was the price in order to do what he loved. And he paid it gladly.

He found what he was looking for and swallowed down the white tablet. The light in the small bathroom had worn out its welcome. His eyelids felt like one-hundred-pound weights obstructing his vision. After smoothing his hand over the wall he finally found what he was looking for and turned off the light.

Stumbling through the dark, he searched for the couch. Maybe if he lay down for a few minutes the meds would have a better chance to kick-in. Driving while unable to keep his eyes open, not the safest idea.

After Aleks escorted him down the basement stairs he’d taken off in search of a woman. Any woman. As long as she was ready, willing, and able she was good enough to sleep with. Poor girl had no idea that he would be gone before the sun came up.

They’d shared many sexual escapades together, but the difference between them was an ocean wide. Aleks was running away from love and commitment, banging any woman with a pulse, trying his best to separate himself from getting hurt. Rob was killing time. He was waiting for the one, the one who would be his forever.

Lying in the darkness, Rob thought back to the woman who had made such a physical impression on him. Long auburn hair, flawless white skin and bright green eyes the color of... Kermit the frog?

The pain made him delirious. He didn’t expect to meet her half-dressed. He had no doubt that his sister had the ability to make any woman sexy wearing her designs but Martina–Martina was the kind of woman who made the design sexy. She was curvy, toned in all the right places. A testament to the benefits of practicing yoga.

She seemed so nonchalant about sexual fantasies. She was willing to find any random guy to get the job done. It seemed like she knew exactly what she wanted, but she was unsure of how to get it. Maybe too shy to ask for it. That’s where he came in. He was willing to set her free, take her to the edge.

There were three parts to her fantasy. She wanted a man to focus on her pleasure, she wanted a threesome, and she wanted to be dominated. He needed a plan. Thoughts of all the naughty ways he could please her infiltrated his brain, but they would have to wait until tomorrow. Just a few minutes’ rest and he would be on his way.

* * * *

The lights from the kitchen illuminated the narrow staircase to the basement. Staring down the steep passage, Martina realized her only way to a comfortable bed was down a staircase that looked like it belonged in a fun house, the carpeted steps doing a little sway from side to side. She cursed. Too many blue concoctions. Too much talk about sex. She was horny as hell with no man in sight and not in the comfort of her own home to take care of her own needs.

She took the first few steps then closed the door behind her.

“Where is that light switch?” Why hadn’t she looked for it before she closed the door? She took another step down, grasping the railing with one hand, her other searching along the wall trying to find the–

“Got it!” She flicked the switch, and the soft glow from the lights above led her down the stairs.

“Lights off!” The harsh male voice startled her, and she tumbled down a few stairs barely able to contain her giggles. “Carrie!”

“I’m...I’m sorry.” She regained her balance and composure. “It’s not Carrie. It’s Martina.”

“Please turn off the light.” His voice was weak, strained.

Did he suffer from migraines? She had heard that light could sometimes be a nuisance to people with headaches.

She scrambled up the steps and flicked the switch, the room plunging into total darkness.

“Thank you.” He exhaled heavily.

Once again, she made her way to the bottom, this time with no accidents. Luckily, she’d gotten a peek at the layout of the room before the lights went out. She stepped along the soft carpeting and searched for the couch.

“Carrie said I could sleep in the bedroom down here. Too many drinks.”

“It’s to your left.”

“Do you always get headaches?” The question flew out before she could stop it. She didn’t know why she asked, but she wanted desperately for this man to no longer be in pain. It was her calling. It was the reason why she was going to California.

“Yes. Please, stop talking. It makes it worse.”

“I can help.”

Nothing but a heavy sigh.

“I’m a... Crap!” She crashed into an end table, the lamp teetering from side to side. She steadied it with her hand while she giggled. “I’m a holistic practitioner. I’d like to try something to help if you’ll let me.”

“Will you be quiet?”

“Yes. I promise. No talking while I’m working.”

She came in contact with the couch and pawed her way along until her hands finally found his body. He tensed under her touch. She continued up his leg to his tight-muscled thigh, knowing exactly when to retract. Although a skim over his manhood might be exciting, it was definitely not professional.

Settling in front of the couch, she sat back on her legs and reached out to find his hands. They rested on his chest. She took one hand in hers and kneaded his fingers from tip to knuckle. He moaned. Not a pleasurable moan.

“It might hurt for the first couple of minutes,” she whispered into the darkness.

Back and forth she massaged, from one hand to the next. His body relaxed as time went on. She felt it by the weight of his hand in hers. Martina wished she had some lavender oil or even peppermint to help soothe him.

“What are you doing to me?”

“Shhh. No talking.”

She couldn’t see his face in the darkness, but she could see the outline of his body. He was big. Not fat but broad. His hard chest rose and fell to the rhythm of his breathing. His hands were rough and calloused. Maybe he was a laborer. Maybe he was an athlete.

After a half-hour with his hands, she gently rubbed his temples. She knew her technique was right. The part of her brain that practiced reflexology seemed dead-on despite being clouded by the large consumption of alcohol swimming in her veins. But the more she touched his bare skin, the hotter she got. The more sweet-sounding sighs that escaped from his mouth, the faster her heart raced.

She blamed it on the alcohol and girl talk. A lethal combination. All that talk about adventurous sex had her aching between the legs. Her hyper-sexual thoughts couldn’t be due to the way he’d stared at her from across the room with brown eyes burning a hole straight through her. It definitely couldn’t be the way his voice touched her insides, stirring up sexual urges she was so eager to indulge.

Rob just happened to be the man in closest proximity. If she touched any man right now she would be thinking the same thing.

So, why didn’t she believe that?

She shook the thought out of her head and focused again on the task at hand. She was a professional. His well-being was the main priority. She had to push aside her desire and rein in her horny thoughts.

By the sound of his steady breathing, she knew he had fallen asleep. Sleep. Sleep was a good idea, but Martina disliked the night time.

The same dream had clouded her slumber for the last two years. She couldn’t understand the meaning, other than to continue on her path. She figured when she found peace, settled into the life she had always wanted, the figure would stop running. Martina would stop chasing. Until that day, Mac was her motivation. The ghost from her past telling her to keep moving.

She rested her arms on the edge of the couch cushion and lowered her head. She just needed to get her bearings and wait for the room to stop spinning. Two minutes and she would search in the dark for the warmth of a blanket and soft mattress.

* * * *

Rob eased his eyes open. He felt relaxed, comfortable and most importantly, no longer in pain.

Martina. Martina had showed up and did some kind of voodoo magic with her hands. Did voodoo work on migraines?

She was pretty drunk. He remembered that. She’d stumbled all over the place until she finally found the couch and used his body as a crutch. He was glad when she decided to stop short of his crotch. No doubt a raging hard-on would have put a crimp in the moment.

There was a soft scent lingering in the air. Something fresh and flowery. Something different. Not the usual scent he associated with his sister or even Amie. He shifted his position and bumped his arm into something. A head? He extended his hand, trying to distinguish in the dark.

Immediately he was hard again. Just the thought of Martina sleeping beside him had his heart beating faster. He chalked up his sudden burst of sexual need to the fact that he knew she wanted a good screw. A normal reaction for a man.

She didn’t look comfortable. If he carried her to the bed he could use the bathroom then return to the couch. He scooted to the end of the couch and settled on his feet. Not one sting of pain. Not one throb behind his eyes. She really did work magic.

Laying her upper body against his arm, he grabbed her legs and lifted. She was deadweight. As he carried her to the bedroom, her head fell over his arm and he heard a quiet gurgle escape from her mouth. There was no way she was waking up any time soon.

When he laid her down he tried to get a look at her up close. It was too dark but he knew she wasn’t wearing the white lingerie anymore. He tucked her under the covers then quickly used the bathroom. As he stepped out, the light cast a soft glow over the room and illuminated her figure. She had a tiny smear of black makeup around her eye, and her hair was out of place. That made her all the more beautiful.

He never did get to devise his plan of seduction. Not that he was a master of seduction. He never had to be. Women just seemed to always be around, especially with Aleks in the vicinity.

“Mac!” Martina’s frantic voice caught his attention. “Mac! Wait!”

She thrashed around in the bed. What was he supposed to do? She didn’t look frightened, but he definitely didn’t like the fact that she was dreaming about another man. Mac.

Rob approached the bed and laid a hand on her shoulder, gently shaking her. “Martina?” He shook a little harder. “Martina? Wake up.”

“Mac?”

“No. It’s not Mac. It’s Rob.”

“Rob?” She still had her eyes closed and softly sighed. “Rob?” She bolted upright, knocking his hand away.

“You were having a dream.”

“How did I get in the bed?”

“I carried you.” Her mouth molded into an ‘O’ shape. “You were talking in your sleep.”

“Sometimes I do that.”

He watched her from the side of the bed. Her face was strained. “Can I get you something?”

“I’m fine, but the room’s not. It’s spinning.”

He chuckled. “You did have a lot to drink.”

“Your head.” She looked at him. “I remember that.” A bright hint of green shone through the small crack of her eyelids as they fluttered, trying to wake themselves from sleep.

“Whatever you did worked.”

“Good.” She lay back down and curled up on her side.

He headed toward the washroom then switched off the light. “I’ll just be in the other room.”

“Stay.” Her voice was so soft he barely heard her. “Will you stay? It would be nice to have the company for a change.”

“All right.” Maybe he didn’t need a plan. She was making it pretty easy for him to make a move.

He crawled into the bed and settled under the covers. She sidled up to him, her scent filling his nostrils as she fit her body snug against his and rested her hand on his chest.

There was nothing sexual about their contact, but Rob had no willpower to stop the growing need he felt below the belt. Despite wanting this woman fiercely, he was content just the way they were. He was comfortable, and for some reason the only word that described his feeling at that moment was home.