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He pushed the table away and stood, looming over her. She tilted her head back and met his gaze. “You know I want you,” he said.
“Then I’m yours,” she said, and opened her arms wide.
WHEN NICK TOOK LEXIE into his arms, she sighed with joy and relief. All these weeks she’d been waiting for this. All those months in physical therapy when she’d worked so hard to get well, this was what she’d been working for, though she hadn’t even known it at the time. She’d been waiting for strong arms to reach around her, for warm lips to find hers, for hands to caress her, and for the rush of blood and heat that was like a shout within her. She was alive and whole again. All that struggle and pain had been worth it to get to this moment.
She stood on tiptoe, arms reaching around him, pressing her body close to his. She felt his arousal against her belly and a thrill of anticipation surged through her, followed by a tremor of nervousness. It had been a long time since she’d had sex with a man.
He slid his hands up to cradle her head, his fingers buried in her hair, turning her face more fully to his. His lips claimed hers in a drugging kiss that she felt all the way to her toes. Long-dormant sensations came back to her, reminding her that sex was not something to be learned over and over again, but a pleasure to be enjoyed and continually perfected.
He fumbled with the fastening of her dress, and she reached back to help him. “I should probably be more patient and take it slower,” he said. “But I’ve been imagining you naked so long I can’t wait anymore to see the real thing.”
She laughed and undid the button at the neck of the dress, letting the two halves of the top fall forward to hang at her waist. “I could say the same thing about you,” she said.
She reached for the waistband of his pants, but he stepped back. “I want to look at you,” he said. “All of you.”
Feeling only a little self-conscious, she reached back and lowered the zipper of the dress, then slid it down over her hips. Clad only in pink silk bikini panties, red scarf and red stilettos, she faced him.
The reverent look in his eyes was almost her undoing. The mixture of raw lust and unabashed need send a rush of wet heat to her sex. Her breasts felt heavy and aching beneath his gaze, and her nipples rose in points anticipating his touch.
When she thought she couldn’t bear another second apart from him, he moved toward her. She let out a sigh of relief, which turned to a moan when he moved past her, to the window. He checked the loft again, then drew the heavy inner drapes, closing them off from the world.
“What is she doing?” she asked.
“The lights are off in the dining room. She’s in the bedroom, on the bed.” He turned to her, his face pinched with some undecipherable emotion. “I think she’s crying.”
She felt a pang of sympathy for the lonely woman across the way, but had little time to dwell on this. With remarkable swiftness, Nick shed his clothes and moved toward her again, his erection stiff and proud, swaying with each stride.
Then he was gathering in his arms, maneuvering her toward the bed. When the back of her legs came in contact with the spread she let herself fall back.
Nick followed, and stretched out beside her, his hand on her stomach, preserving the connection. “You’re more gorgeous than I imagined.” He grinned. “But not naked enough.”
She watched, amused, as he slipped to the floor and knelt to unfasten her shoes. She started to make a joke about him bowing before her, but all words fled as he pulled off one high heel and drew her toe into his mouth.
She moaned at the sensation of his tongue, hot and wet against her toes, touching some primitive part of her. Was it possible to come from having one’s toes sucked?
From her toes, he moved to her ankles, up her calves, her knees, to her thighs, his tongue and lips finding sensitive nerves she hadn’t known existed. She felt hot everywhere he touched; little flames of sensation lit the length of her body.
He hooked his thumbs underneath the sides of her panties and drew them down. She raised her hips to help him and then she was naked.
She waited, tensed, anticipating his lips on her. She could hear him breathing hard, sense his gaze on her. When she raised her head to look, he was staring at her, a half smile on his lips.
Why had he stopped? “Is—is something wrong?” she asked.
“No. Nothing’s wrong. I’m just undressing you. Almost done.”
He reached for the scarf at her throat, but she caught his wrist and stopped him. She’d revealed enough tonight; she wasn’t ready for more. “Leave the scarf on,” she said.
He looked puzzled. “Why?”
“Just…leave it on.”
She waited for him to ask why, the heat of the moment already receding as she struggled to come up with a superficial explanation.
But he didn’t ask for one. He simply lowered his hand to her side and his mouth to her stomach, and began working his way up her body, one kiss at a time.
She fell back again, abandoning herself once more to sensation. It was as if her body were waking from the coma all over again, nerves she’d forgotten coming to life beneath his exploring lips and tongue.
When he reached her breasts, she could stay still no longer. She arched to him, hips thrusting, silently pleading for release from this incredible, exquisite tension. She felt him smile against her, then he sucked her nipple into his mouth and she gasped with pleasure.
Her pulse beat hard against her temple, and her vision clouded as he suckled and teased, first one breast, then the other. She put her arms around him, holding on as if to an anchor. Anything to keep her from flying off the bed and soaring to the ceiling. Or breaking into pieces. Any minute now she felt she could explode, nerves stretched beyond bearing.
“Niiiick.” His name was a low moan on her lips, both endearment and plea. She couldn’t wait anymore. She couldn’t.
He moved away from her momentarily and she lay still, eyes closed, breathing heavily. If she just had a moment to recover, she’d be ready to offer him as much pleasure as he was giving her. Just a moment…
His mouth closed around her sex, hot and wet and insistent. In that moment she shattered, light and heat rushing through her, a shout torn from her throat. Part of her really was up near the ceiling, separated from her physical body and flying on sheer pleasure. She’d forgotten how wonderful this felt. Or had it ever really felt this good before?
Nick held her as the aftermath of her climax shuddered through her, the awareness of his strong arms around her gradually bringing her back to earth. He was there when she opened her eyes, watching her with concern in his eyes. She grinned, and somehow found her voice. “Wow. If that was the opening act, I can’t wait to see the main attraction.”
“Coming right up.” He knelt between her legs, gently urging her thighs farther apart to accommodate him. “Pun intended.”
She laughed, giddy with happiness, aware that at any moment she might burst into giggles. Not very seductresslike but she couldn’t help herself. She imagined running down the halls, shouting I’m alive. I’m alive. And it’s wonderful!
“I can’t believe I was so stupid!”
His words, and the groan that followed pulled her back to the moment.
“What’s wrong?”
He made a face and looked at the bedside phone. “Do you think room service would send up a condom?”
4
THERE WAS A TIME when Nick would have considered protection just another tool in his cache of supplies, but he’d gotten out of the habit since his marriage. Perhaps he was pickier, but spontaneous seduction wasn’t part of his life these days.
“I have some in my purse,” Lexie said.
“Some?” He arched one eyebrow in his best man-about-town imitation. The idea of her deliberately setting out to seduce him was a huge turn-on. He was a man used to doing the pursuing. The chance to be on the receiving end for a change held a wicked fascination.
She flushed. “I wanted to be prepared.”
He started to get up, but she pushed him back down, and went to retrieve her purse from the table. He lay back and watched her, admiring the way her breasts swayed as she walked. She was gorgeous. Amazing.
Her boldness had taken him by surprise at first, but once they were both naked, he sensed this wasn’t an everyday thing with her. She’d been as eager and needy as him, and it had been all he could do to force himself to take it slow, to make this good for her. He wouldn’t let her think he was the kind of man to take his own pleasure first and leave her wanting more.
And then she’d come, her cries pushing him to the brink of his own desire. Just as well he had this moment to pull back, or else everything would be over before they’d really started.
She returned and crawled back into the bed, the ends of the scarf trailing over her breast, the cherry-red silk bright against her almond-colored skin. Why had she insisted on wearing the scarf? What was she hiding under there?
Did she really think anything he might see would make a difference to him? Later, he’d talk to her about it, but now was not the time to argue.
He reached out to take the condom, but she pushed aside his hand. “Allow me.”
She tore open the packet and leaned over him, the scarf brushing the sensitive head of his penis. He sucked his breath through his teeth, willing himself to stay in control.
Then her hands were around him, cool and soft, squeezing gently as she slowly rolled the condom on. He felt himself pulse against her palm, and closed his eyes, reveling in the sensation but fighting against it, too. She was torturing him. But what sweet torture.
She straddled him, her calves cool and sleek against his thighs. Then she slid over him, surrounding him with her heat and wetness. He clasped her hips as she began to ride him, matching her rhythm, every movement sending shock waves of feeling through him.
He opened his eyes and watched her, her breasts bouncing with each thrust, her eyes half-closed, her mouth slightly open, cheeks flushed. He moved his hands up to caress her breasts, and smiled as she gasped in obvious pleasure.
She planted her palms on his chest and adjusted the tilt of her hips to a more acute angle. He moaned and his vision clouded. He couldn’t hold back any longer.
His climax slammed into him, stealing breath and sense and leaving him weak as a baby. He put his arms around her and pulled her close, pressing his face against her breasts, dimly aware that she was coming again, tensing around him then releasing. She leaned into him, collapsing into his arms.
They lay like that for a long while, fused together by passion. She was all softness and heat, smelling of flowers, her breath a warm tickle against his ear.
It had been a long time since he’d held a woman like this. He’d forgotten how good it felt. How right.
The thought jolted out of his haze. Where had that idea come from? This wasn’t a matter of right and wrong, only a moment of physical pleasure.
Yet he was reluctant to let her go. In fact, she was the first to pull away. She gave him a sleepy-eyed smile, kissed the corner of his mouth, then got up and padded into the bathroom.
While she was gone, he disposed of the condom, then dragged himself over to the window to check on Ellen Wittier again. Her rooms were dark. She must have gone to bed. Alone, from the look of things; a night-light in the hallway cast a faint glow over the still untouched dinner for two laid out on the dining room table.
He let the curtains fall back into place and crawled under the covers, trying to sort out what had just happened between him and Lexie. It was as if he’d lost himself for a moment, become some other person. A person who needed Lexie in his life.
A dangerous thought.
She came out of the bathroom and slipped under the covers beside him. He opened his arms to her, welcoming her to his side even as part of his brain screamed that he ought to keep some distance. He didn’t have room in his life for the feelings she conjured in him, this tenderness and wanting.
The thought kept him awake long after she was sleeping soundly, her head still on his shoulder, her body shaped to his. The scent of her surrounded him—floral perfume and female musk, so sweet and intoxicating. Only his growing uneasiness drove him to slip from beneath her, out of the bed.
He dressed as quickly as he could, watching her as he did so. He thought about leaving a note, but what would he say? He hoped she understood he wasn’t running away from her. Actually, he was, but he needed time to think, time to gain perspective and put the night in its proper place.
He left, shutting the door behind him, hearing the tumblers of the lock fall into place. If only it were as easy to lock away emotions and feelings and all the messy things that got in the way of a sane, uncomplicated life.
WHEN LEXIE AWOKE she sensed she was alone even before she opened her eyes. The room was too quiet, the only sounds were her own breathing and the muted hum of the air-conditioning unit. She rolled over in bed and stared at the empty space beside her. The pillow still bore the indentation from Nick’s head but when she reached out to touch it the space was cold. He’d been gone for a while.
She couldn’t say she was surprised. Though he’d been an intense, passionate lover she’d had a sense that he was holding something back. While his body had been fully engaged in their lovemaking, some part of his personality had remained aloof.
She could dismiss some of that as typical male behavior, and perhaps a portion was due to the cautious nature of a former policeman. But intuition told her there was more to Nick than a former cop wanting to keep things superficial. She wasn’t sure what exactly was going on with him, but she looked forward to the chance to find out.
She sat up and stretched, relishing the slight soreness that reminded her she had been well and truly sated the night before. Her boldness with Nick had paid big dividends. She smoothed her palms along her ribs, smiling at the memory of his hands on her.
He’d been right about one thing; last night had changed the situation between them. She had no doubt she could continue to be a professional assistant to him, but now there would be an increased awareness between them. Every interaction would have an extra edge, and even as she went about the mundane tasks of her job, she’d be anticipating when they would be together again.
And they would be together again. No way was she going to pass up a chance to enjoy another night like the last one.
Still smiling, she reached for her clothes and began to dress. She’d promised Nick six months before she left for Spain and other adventures. In the meantime, he was just the man to help her complete some of the more adventurous items on her list.
She laughed. Oh yes, she and Nick were going to have a very good time together.
NICK SPENT A GOOD PART of the weekend parked near Ellen Wittier’s condo, waiting for her mystery lover to appear. But from his vantage point he saw only Ellen by herself: talking on the phone, watching television or eating a solitary meal. Stan Wittier returned Sunday evening from his convention and all appeared well.
Maybe Lexie was right. Maybe the woman wasn’t cheating on her husband. He supposed it happened, that there were still married people who were faithful to each other. He just hadn’t had the opportunity to meet many of them in his two careers.
He’d told himself he wasn’t going to think about Lexie, but he might as well try to stop breathing. How could he not think about the woman when he could still feel her imprint on his body, still smell her scent on his hands? Every time he closed his eyes his brain insisted on throwing up the image of her naked, an erotic movie playing out against his eyelids.
Which meant he’d spent half the weekend with a hard-on and the other half annoyed with himself for getting so caught up with a woman that he let her distract him from his work. He was almost grateful when Monday morning arrived with its promise of mundane routine.
Except, of course, that Monday also meant facing Lexie again. He braced himself for her wrath. In his experience, women didn’t appreciate it when you walked out on them without so much as a note the way he had. They didn’t seem to understand that sometimes it was better not to say anything than to risk putting the wrong thing in writing. At least then you had less chance of your words being used against you.
“Good morning, Nick.” She looked up from her desk when he arrived, her voice cheerful, her ruby-tinted lips curved up in a smile. The sight of her, dressed in a clingy red top that dipped low in the front to show off an enticing glimpse of cleavage, sent a jolt through him. Apparently Lexie clothed could arouse him as much as the memory of her naked.
“Good morning.” He nodded to her, trying to act casual, trying to avoid staring.
“Did you have a good weekend?” she asked.
Was this a trick question? Was she waiting for him to bring up the events that had started off the weekend? Did she expect him to admit she’d shaken him up, and not in a good way?
“It was fine.” He threw the conversational ball back to her. “How was yours?”
She assumed a coy expression, her eyes sparkling with teasing mirth. “Oh, I had a very nice weekend. There’s nothing like fantastic sex to get things off to a good start.”
That she’d thought the sex they’d enjoyed was fantastic pleased him. Apparently he hadn’t lost his touch.
But then something black and ugly wrapped itself around him. She had been talking about the two of them, hadn’t she? “So what did you do this weekend?” he asked casually. “I mean, after Friday?”
“Oh, I went shopping. To the movies. Fun stuff.”
Alone, he hoped, then pushed back the thought. He didn’t have any right to tell her who to see or what to do with her time. One night didn’t give him any claim to her.
On this depressing note, he went into his office and shut the door. He focused on catching up on paperwork, and tried to forget all about the woman on the other side of the door.
But the woman apparently wasn’t going to let herself be forgotten. He’d scarcely pulled the first file from the stack on the corner of his desk when she came breezing into his office without even knocking. He looked up, annoyed. “Yes?”
“How did you spend your weekend?” she asked.
Here it was then. She wasn’t going to let it go until she’d wrung some kind of apology from him for running out on her. He frowned. “I really don’t have time to discuss this right now,” he began.
She sat in the chair across from his desk and crossed her legs, a good bit of knee and shapely thigh, clad in sheer black stockings, showing beneath the hiked-up hem of her black skirt. Did she do that deliberately, knowing the move commanded his attention?
“I know what you were doing,” she said. “You were watching Ellen Wittier. Did you find anything? Did her lover ever show?”
He shook his head. “No sign of the guy.”
“I’ve been thinking about this and I think you should let me talk to her.”
