Читать книгу Hot Sheets - Jeanie London, Jeanie London - Страница 9

LAURA CONTINUED TO the bedroom closet, attempting to calm her pulse and reevaluate her strategy. She’d guessed that Dale would want an explanation about her change of heart, but she hadn’t expected quite so much wariness about her offer. To be fair, she supposed that being a five-star Mr. Charming didn’t necessarily mean he was careless about who he jumped into bed with.

She’d honestly never meant to imply that his actions were degenerate. She’d intended to compliment his prowess, reinforce her reasons for wanting a fling. But he’d seemed so surprised by her revelations about his past dates that she wondered if he’d expected her to crawl into bed with him without at least peeking at his history. That sort of negligence would have been reckless. Laura might be a lot of things—a romantic idealist among them—but she wasn’t reckless.

She’d decided to switch gears and veer off the respectable relationship track, and while she knew Dale from work, she didn’t know much about his personal life. She’d looked into it. Plain and simple.

Her choice of dates for the Naughty Nuptials would reflect on Falling Inn Bed during what was intended to be a media circus. Her choice in attire would reflect on the inn, too, so she selected a blue crochet dress and a pair of kid-skin slingbacks. Simple, tasteful and elegant. Heading back into the living room, she avoided Dale’s gaze and hung the dress in the hall closet.

She’d answered his questions and given him a sneak preview of what she had to offer with the removal of her suit. He would make the next move. He’d either accept her offer or turn her down. If he turned her down, she’d simply dress for dinner as if changing in front of him had been nothing more than a necessity of time constraints. She’d pretend to have some dignity left.

Dale still hadn’t said a word. Maybe he needed more time to decide. Maybe she’d just surprised him. Maybe he still didn’t trust her. But whatever his reasoning, she began to feel naked and didn’t like the feeling at all.

Just as she reached for her dress, she heard him get up. Glancing over her shoulder, she found him heading toward her, his expression nothing short of purposeful.

Now here was a look she’d never seen before. Gone was the professional who’d strategized and problem solved the design and construction of the Wedding Wing. Gone was the easy, smiling man she’d gotten to know while working together, a man who flirted as naturally as he breathed. And gone was the surprised, moody man she’d met only moments before.

This Dale Emerson had a fierce determination about him as he drew near, his long-legged strides powerful, his presence almost aggressive as he closed the distance between them.

Catching her in front of the closet, he moved behind her, and she braced herself, thinking he might whisper in her ear or kiss her cheek. Her whole body tensed expectantly, a boneless gathering of muscle as she stood poised and ready to react.

But he simply placed his hand above her head and slid the closet door shut, showcasing them in the full-length mirror. She lifted her gaze to the reflection of his face, a face that had lost much of its familiarity up close. Or perhaps all her bare skin was to blame.

Here was a man reputed to bring women pleasure. And from the way one look from him stoked the spark inside her to a flame, he’d earned his reputation with good reason.

He looked purposeful while she looked surprised. Laura thought she’d nailed this man for who he was, but soon realized that knowing Dale was a charmer and experiencing the effects of his charm were two distinctly different things.

Slipping his arms around her in a whipcord motion, he dragged her backward. She gasped as she came in full contact with his body. His broad chest surrounded her, his muscular thighs molded her backside. A rock-hard erection rode in the small of her back, and just as casually as he pleased, he rested his chin on the top of her head and met her gaze in the mirror.

“You feel good. I knew you would.”

The breezy observation made her stomach swoop wildly. She could feel his every hard inch against her and relished how good he felt.

“But can Ms. Romantic Idealist really handle a fling?”

She understood why he might raise the question. Except for the bare skin, she really didn’t look the part of a woman used to flings. Panty hose. Practical pumps. Nothing-special bra.

If she’d honestly believed Dale would arrive without a date, she might have dressed for a seduction. But her chances had been slim at best. Without Annabelle’s help, she’d have been attending three weeks of events with Adam, who would much rather deal with erotic events from the outside looking in.

“I can handle you, Dale,” she said, sounding very sure of herself. “Just because I declined a fling, doesn’t mean I can’t manage one. I’m a big girl.”

“Yes, you are.”

As if to prove the point, he dragged his hands up her ribs, a deliberate motion showcased in the mirror, visually erotic.

“So, Laura. What did you want to know about me? Were you interested in my stamina or did you ask my former dates for details?” The smoke in his gaze rode out on his voice so there was no missing that details meant sexy details.

“I wasn’t so…specific.”

“No? You didn’t want to know how I would touch you to make you come so many times in a night?” He arched a dark brow. “Or what I like to do to make me come?”

Damn if a blush didn’t start creeping up from her breasts like the sunrise, the downside to her fair skin that she couldn’t stop once it started. And she knew exactly what he was trying to do…well, not trying, doing, given the way her blush deepened.

He tested her, challenged her, because even though he touched her, he hadn’t accepted her offer yet.

“Actually, Dale.” He was about to find out that she was made of sterner stuff than he gave her credit for. “Your former dates were all so thrilled with your performances that they offered the information without much inducement.”

“I’m glad I’ve left behind some happy women, but I much prefer to think about you asking for intimate details. Don’t you want to know what I like to do in bed?”

“I’d like to find out for myself.”

He chuckled, and his fingers began a slow glide down her neck. This was no tentative exploration. His hands pressed into her skin until she could feel a heat radiating downward, making her breasts grow heavy and her nipples stand at attention.

Yet Laura couldn’t ignore that…something underlying his provocative manner. Something that hinted at how unexpected her revelations, and her opinion of him, had been.

“Does it bother you that I talked to those women?”

“Why should it?”

“I don’t know,” she replied silkily, even though the flush in her cheeks made a lie of her nonchalance. “I wouldn’t want you to worry that a romantic idealist like me would set my sights too high and wind up disappointed.”

That lethal grin kicked up the corners of his mouth, and he gave a laugh. “Never fear, lovely Laura. I’ll live up to my press. Don’t give that a second thought.”

He nuzzled his face against hers, his smile still in place, and his faintly stubbled cheek abraded her skin, a simple touch that ignited her nerve endings everywhere.

“I don’t doubt it, Dale, and I won’t have any trouble handling you, either.”

“Then I’ll be your bad boy for the grand opening. If that’s what you want from me.”

“It is.”

His gaze never left hers as he pressed an openmouthed kiss to the juncture between neck and shoulder. “I’ve wanted to be bad with you for a long time. We’re going to be bad together, Laura. Very bad.”

That heat roared inside, and Laura caught a breath that made her chest rise and fall sharply. She could still see that smile where his mouth dragged against her skin.

“You like that.”

“I do.”

There was an incredible unreality about the moment. Sensory overload from the feel of his mouth, the sight of his dark head poised over her, the promise in those smoky eyes.

This was Dale Emerson, the man who’d been haunting her subconscious for so long that watching him touch her became surreal in the extreme. A scene from one of her fantasies come to life while she stood barely dressed in front of a mirror with him, his tongue darting out to taste her throat, a warm velvet stroke that left the gleam of dampness in its wake.

Suddenly he slipped his hands around her hips, dragged them along her stomach, up her ribs. His fingers looked so dark against her skin. They looked so sexy standing together, him fully dressed and her wearing only a bra and hose. The practical pumps—nothing much to look at normally, but professional and comfortable for long days running around the property—elevated her until her back arched and her breasts thrust forward.

“You’re so beautiful,” Dale whispered, and his gaze trailed down from hers, slowly taking in her reflection.

To her chagrin, that blush continued to deepen in a distinctly unbad-girl way. She resisted the urge to shut her eyes and block out the proof that Dale had been right. She was a romantic idealist looking to take a walk on the wild side.

She wanted to be a temptress, wanted to star in this man’s fantasies the way he’d starred in hers. She wanted to wipe out the memories of the untold women who’d found pleasure in his arms before her turn had come around.

But even this aroused, Laura hadn’t lost her senses completely. “We don’t have time for this. Dinner, remember?”

His grip tightened, a possessive move that made her inhale sharply. “We have time. You’re already undressed.”

She couldn’t refute his logic, especially when his head dropped out of sight behind her. She held her breath, waited. His mouth brushed her skin then his teeth…suddenly her bra sprang open and her breasts popped out.

She sucked in a hard breath as the climate-controlled air coaxed already hard nipples to tighter peaks, and he drew the straps over her shoulders, down her arms, and let the bra drop to the floor.

“I intend to find out what you like in bed,” he said.

She heard the challenge in his voice, and her gaze zeroed in on the utterly decadent sight she presented as he cupped her in his palms, kneaded her skin with deep, erotic strokes that made her insides melt. She leaned into his touch without thinking, helpless to do anything but respond.

She couldn’t have imagined feeling this way if she’d tried. She hadn’t expected him to move so fast, hadn’t in her heart of hearts believed this whole idea would work out. But Dale was back, and he’d agreed to be her date.

For three weeks of fantasy.

Resting his chin on her shoulder, he regarded her beneath heavy-lidded eyes, a look that drugged her with the promise of his next touch, a look that made it hard to draw a decent breath.

“You like how this feels.” It wasn’t a question, more a statement of fact that she couldn’t deny. “What about this?”

He caught her nipples in a firm pinch and fire shot through her like a lightning bolt, one hot blast that singed every nerve ending from warm to blistering.

“Yes.” The sound slipped out as a moan, an absurdly undignified sound that made his gaze twinkle.

“And this?”

He held on and tugged her nipples in a slow pull that splintered that bolt of heat until she could feel it everywhere. Her nipples flushed pink. Her breasts swelled visibly. She couldn’t stop herself from rising up on tiptoes to arch her whole body into his touch.

“Oh!”

Not the most articulate of replies, but given his grin, Dale got the general idea. He thumbed the now-swollen peaks and each stroke made her tremble in reply, full-bodied quivers that mirrored their achy counterparts deep inside.

“You have such beautiful skin.” His deep voice whispered against her ear, the caress of his warm breath making her sigh aloud. Trailing his fingers away from her nipples, he traced a vein that shone faintly along her breast. “You’ve got skin meant to be handled carefully and to be cherished.”

He touched her with teasing swirls of his fingers, leaving her to savor the ache he’d started, an awareness that echoed down to her toes.

Dale understood pleasure. He understood how to make a woman respond to his touch, and he handled that knowledge with as much skill and experience as he’d ever demonstrated at work.

On the job he’d known how to interpret her architectural needs. He’d taken her vision to create the Wedding Wing. In this honeymoon suite, he understood her desires and how to fulfill them. He took her unspoken fantasies and made them reality.

She thought about making a few demands of her own. She wanted to kiss his mouth, wanted to wrap herself around him and learn the feel of all his hard places. She wanted to taste him and tempt him the way he tasted and tempted her, so much.

She wanted to prove that even though she didn’t normally indulge in flings, she would play by the rules. Bad was an attitude, after all, and she could wield attitude if it meant this man pleasuring her. And getting a chance to pleasure him.

But even through the haze of steamy sensation that made her melt against him, Laura recognized that she’d both offended and challenged Dale with her frankness about his personal life. She hadn’t intended to, but explaining herself had brought his actions and her opinion up for discussion.

Dale Emerson might be a lot of things—a brilliant architect and construction manager, an oh-so charming man—but first and foremost he was male. He wanted to prove himself.

Right now she would let him. She’d told him she could handle a fling, and she would have plenty of time during the upcoming weeks to back up her statement with proof. At the moment, Dale wanted the upper hand so she gave up all thoughts of demands and let him do what he did best—be bad.

Raising her arms, she stretched until she could slip her hands around his neck and contented herself with fingering the silky hairs at his nape. He raked a hungry gaze over her reflection and dragged his strong hands over her, solid, persuasive strokes that skidded along her skin, made her imagine what it would feel like to press her body full against him.

Running his palms over her hose-clad backside, he massaged her cheeks, rounded her hips, then drove his fingers between her thighs with an intimacy that made her gasp. He anchored her close, riding that rock-hard erection against her, and his expression sharpened into a look of white-hot need.

“I want you,” he said.

“You said we have time,” she reminded him in a stranger’s voice.

His eyes closed. He exhaled a sound that wasn’t quite a groan, a sound so needy Laura knew instinctively that her effect on him rivaled his on her. And knowing she was the object of this man’s desire blindsided her with its potency, a physical reaction that made her tingle with arousal.

“We do.” He exhaled those words on a kiss. “If we move fast. But I’ve waited so long to make love to you that I won’t be rushed.” He brushed another kiss along her temple. “Do you know I’ve never seen your hair down? Will you take out your braid for me later? I want to see you wearing nothing but hair.”

Even such a simple request meant he’d been thinking about her, perhaps even fantasizing, and she found the thought exciting. “It’ll be my pleasure.”

His eyes fluttered open again, and he speared her on a heated gaze. “Mine, too. And speaking of pleasure…” His voice trailed off as he slipped his fingers into the waistband of her hose and dragged them down.

She suddenly stood there with her arms wrapped around his neck, her breasts thrust outward and her sex exposed, looking decadently bare with the hose tangled around her thighs.

His low growl rumbled near her ear, and he ground that hot erection against her for good measure. But before she had a chance to ride his length and share some of her excitement, he stepped away. The air suddenly caressed her bottom, punctuating the distance he put between them.

“I’m going to bring you pleasure, Laura.” His husky-voiced declaration filtered through her, almost as potent as the hands he grazed along her bare skin.

Threading one hand between her thighs, he zeroed right in on the knot of nerve endings there. Coaxing the tiny bundle from its hiding place, he expertly rolled his fingers, sending a jolt through her.

Their gazes locked in the mirror. The intensity on his handsome face, those thick lashes hooding smoky eyes, promised her more pleasure than she’d ever imagined, promised that he would enjoy making her come apart at his command.

Forcing her to part her thighs, he explored her at his leisure. With sleek curls of his fingers, he spread moist arousal along her most intimate places, and Laura arched back against him, surrendering to the heat, letting him have all the control, payback for having resisted him for so long.

And he welcomed her payment, taking liberties that seemed astonishingly brazen for two people who’d only just decided to get intimate. But obviously Dale felt as if two years of unrequited attraction entitled him to privileges.

He thrust those fingers silkily in, and her body grew slick beneath his skilled touch. The mirror displayed every nuance of her expression, the way he worked her in long pleasured strokes, the way she swayed sinuously to feed this awakening need within.

“I want to watch you come,” he whispered. “Let go.”

Let go? She barely hung on. She rode his hand with an urgency she’d never known before, didn’t want to control, a need that tossed her normally sound reason to the winds to keep up this steady rocking motion… A motion that created friction exactly where she needed it.

Dale promised to bring her pleasure and he did. Tension mounted, a coiling pressure that wound its way through her, and took over until she recognized the look of casual determination on his face. He hadn’t been joking. He wouldn’t stop until he made her come. Right here. Right now.

While he watched.

And when he hauled her back against him to find a deeper position, she did let go. She couldn’t keep her eyes open anymore, wasn’t sure she even wanted to as her body moved decadently in time with his strokes. Let him enjoy the show because once he used the heel of his palm to knead her orgasm into breaking, she couldn’t worry about anything but the way her body had started to vibrate….

When Laura came, it was an expansive, glorious sensation that rolled through her body, as if two years of longing had crested and finally broke. Two years of fantasies that had grown into almost an obsession. A climax that shocked her with its intensity, left her panting as she leaned against him to support herself because her legs wouldn’t do the job.

She wasn’t sure how long it was until she could force her eyes open, but when she did, she almost wished she hadn’t. Dale still watched her with that hungry expression, seemingly content to stand there forever with his hands wedged between her thighs.

She wasn’t sure what to say, but Dale proved that bad boys could still be gentlemen when he eased his hands away and slid her hose back into place with a few efficient moves.

Steadying her until she could stand on her own, he leaned over and kissed her cheek.

His smile was pure male satisfaction, his voice a dare when he whispered, “One down. Seven to go.”