Kitabı oku: «The Complete Red-Hot And Historical Collection», sayfa 3
And then Kate was entering, closing the door behind her. He turned to face her. She was close. So close. Cream suit. Red hair. Those other-worldly grey eyes. Tuberose scent.
Just for a second the memory of the top of her stocking burst in his head.
And drove him wild.
Which had to be why he grabbed her by the upper arms, backed her up a step, pushed her against that nice solid door and covered her mouth with his.
CHAPTER THREE
FOR ONE FRANTIC SECOND he felt Kate stiffen.
God, don’t stop me. I’ll die if you stop me.
He licked her mouth—her gorgeous, red, luscious mouth—and with an inarticulate sound that was half-moan, half-whimper she opened to him.
Thank you, thank you, thank you.
His tongue swooped inside, tangled with hers…and she was everything he’d hoped she would be. Delicious, and hot, and desperate—as desperate as he was. She tasted so good. Smelled like heaven. Felt lush and ripe against him as he pressed her to the door. He wished he could get her closer—although that was knuckleheaded. If he pushed any harder against her they’d be through the wood, spilling onto the floor at the base of Deb’s desk. And exhibitionism wasn’t high on his must-do list.
Then Kate’s arms circled him and he was closer. Miracle. She tore the shirt loose from his pants and then her hands were under the cotton, sliding up his back, down, then up. Rushing over his skin. No finesse, just raw, hungry possession. Restless, seeking, sweeping…
He heard her whimper, low in her throat, and it set off a flare in his head. He wanted every part of her in his hands all at once. Impossible lust. Outrageous. He grabbed the back of her head, bringing their mouths together so furiously their teeth clashed. But he didn’t stop and neither did she. They were straining together. He could feel her heart thudding against his own rocketing beats. He wished he could see her naked. Needed to touch her bare skin.
Alone. He needed them to be alone.
Keeping his burning mouth fused to Kate’s, he reached, one-handed, grabbing for the cord that controlled the Venetian blinds. He scrabbled there, cursing inside his impatient head until he found it, yanked. Close, dammit, close! And then the blinds came clattering down and they were invisible—just him and Kate, wrapped together—and he was going to take her in some way, by God!
Next second they were spinning, fast and clumsy, and with one rough push it was his back jammed against the door, and he was sucking in gasping breaths with every tiny get it while you can break in their hungry kisses. Her hands were under his shirt again almost before the thud against the wood sounded his willing submission. Skating, racing up to his shoulders, over his chest, across his sides, down his stomach. Then she was reaching for his belt, undoing, unbuttoning, unzipping, her hands diving to touch, to grip him through his underwear.
He cradled her head, hands digging in to keep her mouth fused to his. Felt her hair—cool silk against his fingers. He must have wrenched the band from it because it was loose. They were almost at eye level—and that reminded him she was wearing high heels. The thought of those heels, her legs, made him groan. The memory of the top of her stocking—that one hot glimpse—was ferocious in his head. He wanted to see those stockings, wanted her legs wrapped around him.
His hands moved to her perfect backside. Tight and sexy and…covered. Not good enough. Not now. His hands went lower, down to her thighs. He stopped for a blinding moment as her hand squeezed him and he thought he’d lose it, but determinedly he moved on. The stockings. He had to feel them…touch them.
The instant his fingers reached the hem of her skirt he yanked it up. Out of the way. Out of his way. God, God, God, he’d reached that lacy edge. He could feel the band, snug against her slender thigh. Oooohhhhh. G-o-o-o-d. So damned hot. Fingers toyed at the edge for long moments, tracing the skin at the very top, then sliding up, over her bottom, now covered only by soft, slippery silk. He groaned into her mouth. He had to have her—now.
She spread her legs to accommodate his straining erection between her thighs, pulled him hard into the cradle of her, wordless and panting.
‘I want to see you,’ he said.
But before she could respond he was backing her further into the room. Step, kiss…step, kiss…step, kiss. And then they were at her desk, her thighs hitting the desktop. Her amazing, stockinged thighs. Just the thought of them had his fingers twitching to touch.
‘Open your legs,’ he said, and she did.
And then his fingers were there, feeling the damp silk. He was too desperate to be gentle, wrenching the covering aside so his fingers could dip into her. Urgently slipping inside her, then out, circling, then in, out, circling again. She cried out and he plastered his mouth to hers, bending her backwards at the same time as his arm swooped, scattering everything off the desk onto the floor.
He heard the thump and clatter—didn’t care. Her back was on the desk, her bottom at the edge, her legs splayed and dangling, her feet in their sexy high heels just touching the floor. He was between her thighs, fingers still working, resolutely wringing wordless cries from her. He hadn’t stopped kissing her, scared to break that mouth-to-mouth bond in case she told him to stop. He couldn’t stop now—didn’t want to stop.
Fingers still moving against her, he used his other hand to wrench her skirt higher until he knew—even though he couldn’t yet see—that she was exposed to him.
He imagined the picture: pale fabric bunched around her hips, silky knickers covering her except for the slight skew at her core where his fingers played, the stay-up stockings in an understated nude that just made them that much sexier. Steam. He thought he must have steam coming out of his ears. Hell, he wanted to see that picture.
Okay—he would have to risk freeing her mouth just so he could see that picture.
He pulled back and Kate reached automatically to push her skirt down, but his hands stayed hers.
‘No. I have to see. I have to, Kate.’
Throwing her head back, she let her hands drop to her sides, open to him.
He pulled back, looked long and hard, while his heart threatened to leap out through his eyeballs and he thought he might actually come on the spot. Violet. A flash of purple amongst the cream and nude. That delicious part of her just peeping out at the side. She was the most gloriously sexy thing he had ever seen in his life. He had a feeling the image of Kate Cleary on the desk, spread for him, would be the hottest memory of his life.
He made some low, growling noise—like an animal, because he felt like an animal—and knew he had to get at her the fastest way he could. No condom—because why would he need a condom just to see her briefly in her office on a Monday afternoon? Idiot—don’t leave home without one ever again. So it would be his fingers and his mouth.
Even before the thought had finished he was on her, his fingers there, renewing their endless dipping slide. He dropped to his knees, watching each undulating movement of her hips. And when that wasn’t enough he tugged that violet silk a little further off centre and put his mouth on her.
She bucked, cried out, as his tongue replaced his fingers, as his hands moved to grasp her hips and bring her closer to his mouth, angling her so he could explore every delicious fold and crease. The taste of her was intoxicating. The scent of her arousal, the feel of her as he suckled the pearly clitoris he’d freed from the silk…
‘Delicious,’ he said, between long, slow pulls. ‘I knew you would be.’
And then she was whimpering in earnest, soft mewing cries as he alternated the pressure, building the fire in her with every scrap of skill and care he had, building, building… One last, long, endless, sucking kiss there and her hips bucked off the desk.
And then a low, throaty moan was torn out of her as she came and her hands fisted convulsively in his hair, dragging him into her moist heat, and he was breathing her in as he laved her with his eager, lusting tongue, so damned hot for her.
He stayed there, his mouth on her, until the waves receded.
And then her legs relaxed and she lay like an exhausted doll, legs spread, limp hands slipping from his hair as he stood back and looked at her. She was so wantonly beautiful to Scott’s still hungry eyes that he had to cover his face with his hands—because he wanted to be inside her so badly the sight of her was painful.
A heartbeat later he heard the soft sounds of her getting herself together—sitting up, adjusting her clothes. He dropped his hands a millimetre at a time, gauging his control as he went.
Okay.
She was covered.
He could breathe.
Sort of.
That spectacular blush was on her cheekbones. ‘What about…about you?’ she asked. ‘I mean…you. You know…’
Scott winced. ‘That’s what I get for not packing a condom,’ he said, and pulled up his gaping pants, refastening the openings Kate had wrenched apart earlier. He tucked in his shirt. ‘Not that I expected… Well, not that I expected that.’
Her eyes darted to the Venetian blinds as she edged off the desk and he read her relief as she puffed out a little breath. Had she not even noticed that he’d closed the blinds? That said something about the passion between them.
‘So, Kate, I’d say you owe me,’ he said. ‘And I have an inkling you’re not the kind of woman who likes to be in anyone’s debt, so I’ll collect tonight. Name the place. Name the time.’
She bent to pick up the various objects Scott had so unceremoniously shoved off the desk. Including her laptop, which she didn’t even bother checking for damage.
Ordinarily he would have helped. But not now. Now he just watched. She was doing something inside her head. Calculating. Planning. So best to be a spectator, gathering clues from her demeanour. What was she thinking?
She picked up a box of tissues, but instead of putting it back on the desk she held it out to him. ‘Lipstick,’ she said, gesturing to his mouth.
He plucked a tissue from the box. ‘Still there?’ he asked, giving her his most wicked smile. ‘After my mouth was so busy between your—’
‘Yes, still there,’ she cut in.
Her voice was curt, no-nonsense…but he saw the shiver tremble through her body as she put the tissue box back in its place on her desk.
And then she checked her watch. Followed that with a stride over to the Venetians to open them with one sharp tug of the cord.
‘Oh, no, Katie,’ Scott said at that point. ‘We don’t get back to normal and move on to our next appointments after that.’
She looked at him. ‘Kate. Not Katie.’ She licked her top lip. Again. Eyes closed. Then opened. And then she threw her hands out with a you win sigh. ‘All right—fair enough. Let’s talk.’
She waved him to one of the black leather chairs as she walked around behind the desk and settled into her own intimidating, high-backed number.
‘That was a mistake,’ she said, very direct.
‘I made one mistake—I didn’t bring a condom. Otherwise that went pretty much as I would have liked.’
‘I don’t do relationships,’ Kate said, ignoring that.
‘Really?’
‘Really.’
‘Perfect.’
‘What does that mean?’
‘You don’t do relationships. I don’t do relationships. But I do do sex…and so, obviously, do you. And very well too.’
She stared at him for a long moment. Then that little lick of the top lip again—God, he wanted to be the one licking it.
‘I have someone,’ she said.
That brought a frown—fast and hard and very displeased. ‘You told me at the party you didn’t.’
‘I’m seeing him tonight. We’re working out an arrangement.’
‘What kind of arrangement?’
She looked at him out of those clear eyes. ‘A mutually satisfactory “friends with benefits” arrangement.’
‘Work out an arrangement with me instead.’
‘Phillip is forty.’
‘Past his sexual prime.’
‘Closer to my age.’
‘How old are you, Katie?’
‘Thirty-two. And it’s Kate.’
‘Then he’s not closer to your age—I am. Five years versus eight years. And I want you more.’
‘How could you possibly know that?’
‘Because nobody could want you more than I do.’ He leaned forward in his chair. ‘And you owe me. One orgasm.’
‘I’m not interested in having a toy boy.’
‘And I’m not interested in being one.’ He stared at her, wondering… And then he relaxed back in his chair. ‘Aha! So that was it.’
‘What are you talking about?’
‘What happened at the party to make you run away. Amy said I was twenty-seven.’
‘I don’t do relationships.’
‘Yeah—we covered that one.’
‘People who are twenty-seven are in the prime age bracket for relationships.’
‘Newsflash—so are people who are thirty-two.’
‘I’m not like other thirty-two-year-olds.’
‘And I’m not like other twenty-seven-year-olds. Remember? I’m the confirmed bachelor of Weeping Reef.’
‘You said bachelor, but not confirmed.’
‘I lied because I didn’t want to scare you off.’
‘Not exactly honourable.’
‘That’s because I’m not honourable. I have not one honourable intention when I look at you. Which won’t bother you since you’re not interested in relationships. So, Katie, you’re going to have to tell your forty-year-old he’s too late. Unless you didn’t like what just happened…?’
Kate leaned back in her chair. Licked her top lip again, which was now almost bare of lipstick. It was heavy, brooding. He wanted it on his body.
‘There’s no reason I won’t like it with Phillip just as much,’ she said.
‘What—you’d let Phillip go down on you on your desk during business hours, would you?’
‘He wouldn’t want to.’
‘And that’s why I’m the man for you. Because I would. I did. And I would do it again in a heartbeat, Katie.’
‘Kate. And it’s not a matter of liking. It’s a matter of being clear what the end-game is so nobody gets hurt.’
‘I don’t get hurt.’
She looked startled. ‘Everyone gets hurt.’
‘Not me.’
‘You’ve never been hurt?’
Scott’s body tensed. Redirect. ‘Let me put it this way. There’s no need for either of us to get hurt. You mentioned the end-game. Why can’t the end-game be sex? Pure and simple sex?’
Kate had picked up a pen and was tap, tap, tapping it on the desk. ‘Pure and simple sex,’ she said slowly. ‘No strings?’
‘You got it.’
Long moment. Tap, tap, tap. ‘And if I were to lay some ground rules…? You wouldn’t have a problem with that?’
‘Lay away.’
‘I’d need time. To think it through. Come up with an agreement.’
‘I’m sure you already have the ground rules worked out for old man Phillip.’
‘He’s not old.’
‘So your age fixation only works one way?’
No answer.
Scott smiled the Number One smile—I am available for sex immediately—as he got out his business card and tossed it onto her desk. ‘You’ve got until I see you tonight to work out whatever rules you want—but, just to be clear, whether we come to an agreement or not, you owe me. If I leave this office and you suddenly have second thoughts about embarking on an affair with me, you still owe me. You. Owe. Me. And I’m not leaving until you give me a time and a place for tonight where you’re going to pay me back. Katie. So let’s have it.’
She was thinking—he could almost see her brain fizzing.
And then, ‘Seven o’clock,’ she announced. ‘Come to my apartment.’ She scribbled something on a sheet of paper and held it out to him. ‘That’s the address. And it’s Kate.’
Scott reached for the paper, pocketed it.
Kate stood, walked around the desk to the door, opened it.
Scott got to his feet more slowly and followed her. But something about the controlled expression on her face got to him—so instead of walking out and heading merrily on his way, he stopped beside her, grabbed her upper arms, tugged her close and slammed his mouth hard on hers. Long, hot moment. Framed in the doorway for anyone who happened to be in the suite to see.
He released her just as suddenly, and smiled to see the combination of shock and desire on her face as he drew back.
‘You’ve got no idea how much I’m going to need that debt paid when I see you at seven tonight,’ he said softly.
And with that, he turned to wink at the unabashedly staring Deb and sauntered towards the exit.
As he reached it he heard Deb’s voice. ‘That was some five minutes, Kate. So, what will it be? Chicken and mung beans? Or do you need something more substantial—a chunk of raw meat, perhaps—to get your strength back?’
CHAPTER FOUR
RACING HOME AFTER WORK that evening, Kate was kicking herself for not going with her first instinct and simply supplanting Phillip with Scott at the bar. A quick twist of an arrangement already in place. Same bar. Same purpose. Just a different model.
She didn’t know why the invitation to her apartment had popped out of her mouth instead.
Although, thinking back to that hot scene on her desk—God, her desk!—she figured it was probably just as well she’d gone for a more private option. If she couldn’t control herself with Scott in her place of work, with Deb sitting just outside the door, how could she trust herself not to perform her payback sex act in the bar, on her knees under the table?
An image that got her so turned on she switched the water temperature of the shower to cold before getting under the spray.
Lust was still fizzing under her skin when she got out, so choosing something to wear took on a whole new meaning—because it had to be something that could come off easily.
Forgoing underwear, she grabbed a loose, tissue-thin shift in a rich russet colour. Very easy to take off when the moment came. And she hoped the outline of her body under the fine silk would drive Scott a little crazy in the meantime—payback for how crazy he’d driven her.
She left her hair loose. Put on a minimum of make-up. No lipstick—her mouth was going to be all over him, and she didn’t want to leave a trail over his clothes or his skin.
She was so full of nervous energy, she caught herself pacing the floor while she waited for him. At this rate one touch of his clever fingers would have her unravelling—and she was not going to unravel twice in one day! She poured herself a glass of very cold white wine and forced her fidgety limbs onto the couch, trying to summon at least a semblance of composure.
The intercom buzzed at six fifty-nine p.m. and she closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. This was it.
As she let Scott in she ran her eyes over his body—white T-shirt, jeans. Very cool, very gorgeous. Her eyes kept going. Down to his…
Oh.
Converse All Star sneakers.
Cool, gorgeous…and young.
Those sneakers were not something forty-year-old Phillip would wear.
Twenty-seven. Okay, wake-up call. What the hell had she been thinking? She forced her eyes away from his feet, up to his eyes, preparing to tell him the deal was off.
But the look on his face gave her pause.
Kate had never seen such taut grimness—and she’d seen some very grim faces in the courtroom. His look got more taut and even more grim as he ran his eyes over her dress, all the way down to her bare feet and back up.
‘Is something wrong?’ she asked, alarmed.
‘Yes,’ he said, and his voice was every bit as grim as his face. ‘I’ve been replaying that scene in your office in my head all afternoon, and I’m so desperate to get my hands on you I can’t think straight. So let’s skip the pleasantries.’
He nodded at the glass of wine on the coffee table.
‘I don’t want the drink you’re probably going to offer me. I’m not into mood music, so don’t bother asking me what I want to listen to. No need for a tour of the apartment—I can see it’s nice and modern and open-plan. Don’t give a rat’s about the view. And the only thing I want to eat is you. Again.’ Strained smile. ‘Now, are we doing the ground rules before or after I get my orgasm?’
‘Before,’ Kate said, any thought of backing away from their agreement obliterated by the heat of his words, the wild rush of desire that bolted through her.
‘Then let’s do it fast. Before I explode.’
The air was thick with lust as she guided him to the dining table, handed him the pages she’d prepared for their signatures.
‘So we’re—what?’ he asked. ‘Signing a contract?’
She nodded. ‘With a contract we’ll both know where we stand, what we can expect. It keeps things uncomplicated.’
Scott laughed, but didn’t refuse, so Kate started running through the clauses.
She didn’t even make it through the first one before Scott cut her off. ‘Katie—you want a contract, then a contract it is. But it’s a sex contract—not a pre-nup or a business merger. And it’s not even legally enforceable, as we both know. So can you just give me the basics? Then I’ll sign—there’s no way I won’t—and we can move on to implementing it. Because if I have to see your nipples poking against that dress for much longer without touching you, I am going to go freaking insane.’
The sudden throb between Kate’s thighs had her squirming on her chair.
‘I see I’m not the only one eager to get to the implementation stage,’ he said, and with an inarticulate I give up growl reached out to cup one of her breasts through the silk.
She felt her nipple tighten even further. He pinched it gently, once. She gasped, he groaned, and then he wrenched his hand away and shot out of his seat.
‘Going to need a drink after all,’ he said. ‘No—don’t get up. Faster if I get it myself while you start going through the rules.’ He headed for her kitchen, with a final prompt. ‘Come on, Katie. Get it done for pity’s sake. I can hear you, I can see you—go.’
‘Right,’ she said. Basics. Basics were good. Fast was good. The sooner they agreed on the terms, the sooner she could have him.
Cupboard opening…clacking of a glass on the kitchen counter.
‘Two nights per week,’ she said.
Fridge door opening…closing. ‘What if I want more?’
‘Two per week is the minimum. We can negotiate additional days as required.’
He was pouring. ‘Okay. Next.’
‘Any costs incurred in pursuit of mutual sexual pleasure to be split fifty-fifty.’
He was back with his wine. ‘I can live with that.’
‘No public displays of affection.’
He was sitting. ‘Done,’ he said. ‘Nauseating stuff, PDAs.’
‘No kissing unless it’s sex-related.’
Scott held up a ‘stop’ hand. ‘Hang on. When is kissing between an unrelated man and woman ever not sex-related?’
She was blushing—she could feel it. Because this was an embarrassing clause. It presupposed he would want to kiss her outside of sex. But kisses led to affection. And trouble lay down that road. So, embarrassing or not, it was best to have it covered in advance.
‘I mean no kisses hello, goodbye—that sort of thing,’ she said. ‘Only kisses that lead to or are the result of sex.’
Scott looked at her mouth for a long moment. She thought he was going to object. But then he shrugged.
‘Okay,’ he said. ‘Go on.’
‘Fantasies,’ Kate said, and felt the blush deepen.
‘We get fantasies?’ Scott asked reverently. ‘Yee-ha!’
Kate rolled her eyes, but she was smiling. ‘I thought you’d like that part of the deal. There are still rules, however. I’m suggesting a start phrase—if one or the other of us decides to enact a fantasy, a text message with “Play Time” is all that’s required—along with the date, time and place. And, of course, any outfits, devices and accessories will be provided by the fantasy’s owner.’
‘If you could see inside my mind…’
Kate laughed. ‘I’m sure I’ll be seeing what’s inside it very soon. But in addition to a start phrase we’ll need a trigger word which, when said, will stop the activity should one of us become uncomfortable with what’s happening.’
‘Why not just “stop”?’
‘Because that might be part of the fantasy—either a version of “stop” or “don’t stop”. Or it could mean “pause” or “wait” just as easily as it could mean “no more”. Better to have something unambiguous. Like…maybe…a name? Something that couldn’t be mistaken for anything else and wouldn’t have anything to do with sex.’
Scott smiled—a particularly cool smile that made his eyes look like ice. ‘Let’s go with “Hugo”, in that case,’ he said.
‘Hugo?’
‘I can assure you that will stop me in my tracks.’
‘Fine,’ Kate agreed. ‘I don’t know any Hugos, so it won’t be confusing for me.’
‘What else?’ Scott asked, hands clenching and unclenching with impatience.
‘We’re up to confidentiality. The details of this contract must remain confidential.’
‘Okay. Are we done?’
‘Last point. Fidelity is assumed—’
‘Absolutely,’ Scott agreed promptly. ‘I don’t share.’
‘I haven’t finished. Fidelity is assumed, but should an unforeseen sexual encounter occur with someone other than the two parties covered by the agreement—if you or I—’
‘Yes,’ he interrupted. ‘I know what you mean. If you sleep with someone other than me; if I do someone other than you…’
‘Yes. If that happens it must be confessed prior to the resumption of any contracted sexual activity between us.’
But it seemed Scott had reached his limit.
He whipped the pages out of Kate’s hand, grabbed the pen, flipped to the final clause, scratched out some words, added something and initialled the changes.
‘That’s my input,’ he said. ‘No infidelity or the contract is null and void.’
Kate thought about insisting that it remain, because fidelity was for real relationships and this was not one of those—but in all honesty it was a relief. She’d seen too much of the aftermath of infidelity to be sanguine about it under any circumstances.
So…‘All right,’ she said. ‘Should one of us seek our pleasure elsewhere, the agreement is broken.’
‘You won’t need to look elsewhere, Katie. I’ll keep you so busy you’ll be begging for a break.’
He picked up the pen again, ready to sign.
‘Wait,’ Kate said, snatching the pen from him before he could put it to paper. She licked nervously at her top lip. ‘Scott, I think you should read the contract properly before you sign. You’ve found one clause you didn’t like—there may be some wording that’s unclear, or something else you’re uncomfortable with when you have time to think about it. And I don’t want to feel like I’m taking advantage of your youth.’
Scott’s eyes narrowed. ‘I’m twenty-seven—not stupid,’ he said. ‘And I hope we’re not going to waste a lot of time talking about my age. Otherwise I’ll be calling “Play Time” pretty damned fast and spanking you—and that’s not even a fantasy of mine.’
‘Not? Really?’
‘Really. Not into pain—giving or receiving.’
‘No spanking. Got it. Good. But, back on topic, you’re not as experienced with the law as I am, so—’
‘Boring subject. And not germane—there’s a lawyer word for you, to prove that not all twenty-seven-year-olds are ignorant morons. I just love lawyer words.’
‘Yes, but—’
‘Am I deeding my firstborn child to you?’
‘No.’
‘Am I beholden to you for the rest of my life?’
‘No—just a month. Through to the twenty-eighth of February.’
‘Maybe I’d better read the contract, then, because that’s not going to work for us unless there’s an automatic rollover in there. Considering the size and intensity of my hard-on all three times I’ve been near you, I’m going to need longer than a month to do you every way I want to.’
Kate took a long, slow, silent breath. She’d never been with a man who talked so blatantly about sex. It should have been a turn-off—so why did it have the opposite effect? She had the feeling that if Scott Knight had bought her a martini and asked ‘Just how dirty do you like it?’ she would have offered to show him on the spot.
‘Yes,’ she said, ‘there is a rollover option in there.’
‘Right—so give me the damned pen.’
Kate watched as he scrawled his signature.
It made a funny feeling erupt in her stomach—almost as if she owned a part of him with that one dashed name. For a moment it frightened her. She didn’t want to own him. Didn’t want him to own her. Not in any way, shape or form.
He handed her the pen and she hesitated.
‘They’re your rules,’ Scott said, reading her easily. ‘So sign.’
She signed.
And then Scott pushed his chair back from the table, looked across at her. All that grimness was back, tenfold.
‘Now, come here,’ he said.
