My Daring Seduction

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“Mmm, good.” She put her hand on the iron of his thigh and started a slow path toward where it counted, getting more and more jittery when he just sat there, staring at her.

Okay. Fine. Whatever he was into, she’d make it work. She’d probably encountered just about every kind of guy out there along the tortured, unhappy path she’d chosen to walk before Ty’s death, and done just about everything there was to do at least once. He couldn’t surprise her.

She let her hand linger near his fly and was rewarded with instant swelling between his legs. To her surprise, she reacted nearly as strongly, arousal starting a low burn between hers.

Down, girl. Keep it under control.

“You like this?”

“Yes.” The syllable was curt; he still hadn’t moved otherwise. But as long as he wasn’t objecting…

“How about this?” Her palm moved over the long, narrow bulge in his jeans. She took in a sharp breath, unprepared for her own reaction, though she’d anticipated his. Stroking him gently up and down, she leaned forward, dipping one shoulder so her strap would slide off and her hair would make a solid curtain behind her profile.

His hips moved up slightly; his breathing became audible. Her arousal matched his pace, maybe because it had been a long time for her. She unsnapped his jeans, drew the zipper down more hurriedly than she’d intended, dipped her hand in to savor his warmth and his hardness through his black cotton briefs.

“Lindsay.” His voice was husky.

“Mmm?” She bent down and kissed his erection, her lips lingering.

“Why are you doing this?”

She tugged his jeans down, reached for the waistband of his briefs and pulled them down to expose him. He was beautiful. Thick and long and tipped faintly pink. Her hunger grew. “Because I want you. Haven’t you figured that out yet?”

“I have figured it out. What I haven’t figured out is why tonight.”

“You know a better time?” She pressed her face against his length, inhaled his scent, then opened her mouth and slid it along his erection aiming for the tip to take him fully into her—

He grabbed her shoulders and had her half lying across the back of the couch under him so quickly that she couldn’t control her terror reaction, and heard herself make the choked cry she hadn’t had to let out in a long time.

“Where is this coming from, Lindsay?”

She swallowed the thickness in her throat, telling herself over and over that this was Denver, this was different, he was emotional not dangerous, confused not enraged until the urge to plead for mercy left her and she could feel as impassive as she was struggling to appear. “What are you talking about?”

“Months, Lindsay. Months of dancing around this, avoiding me, shutting me out, and now suddenly you’re all hot to give me a blow job? What the hell happened?”

“I thought…you’d like it.”

“Geezus, Lindsay. Of course I’d like it. I’m a guy. But I think we skipped a few parts of this equation. Like spending time together first—you wouldn’t even come swimming with me. Like talking about something other than work. Or…” His voice dropped lower; he fixed his gaze on her mouth. “…like kissing.”

No. Not kissing. Not sweetness. Not affection. No feeling. She made another desperate sound and threw herself to the opposite end of the couch, arms crossed around her chest.

“What the—” He held his hands up, surrendering.

She closed her eyes. Maybe she could have messed this up more, but she didn’t think so. Why couldn’t he just let her show him a good time? Why did he have to make this about anything except screwing her so she could fulfill her dare?

“I’m sorry.” She sat up ramrod straight, the way she had refused to do during adolescence for her furious mom. “This was not a good idea. I knew it wasn’t, but I—”

“Lindsay.” His voice was slow, gentle, talking nicey-nice to the completely insane woman. She didn’t blame him. “Let’s get back to our whiskey. Back to talking. Back to normal. Tomorrow you can come swimming with me after work or I’ll come up here again or I’ll take you to lunch one day before work. Maybe a lot of days, maybe one or two late night dinners and we’ll see what happens. Let this go more naturally and a lot slower.”

She bit her lip. How the hell was she supposed to tell him that was the last thing she wanted to do?

Or…maybe next to last. Or maybe…

It couldn’t happen. He was talking relationship and all she could handle in her life right now was sex. If it wasn’t for the dare, she wouldn’t even choose to handle that.

“I’m sorry, Denver. It’s not like that. I was just looking to get laid and I thought you were too. You were nice enough to help me bring the boxes up here, you were looking really good, I was horny and I thought maybe you’d be up for it. But the whole sweetheart dating, kissing thing? No. Sorry. Not a good plan. Not for me.”

She finished, pretty pleased with herself. Guys understood the need to get laid. He’d get it. She’d be off the hook and they could get back to—

“Why not?”

Her pleasure started to evaporate. “Why not what?”

“Why isn’t the ‘whole sweetheart dating, kissing thing’ a good idea?”

Crap. He had that look back, the one where he thought he already knew the answer but just wanted to go through the formality of having her say it out loud. Maybe men thought acting as though they knew you better than you did was sexy. She had to mark it down as one of the most irritating characteristics they possessed.

“Because…” Her mind failed. She couldn’t come up with a single reason, especially not with him sitting in her living room with his pants undone, firm skin showing at his abdomen, a slight flush to his cheeks, eyes intently dark, handsome and so damn noble. “It’s not what I want.”

“Ah. Okay, then.” He got up abruptly and the force of the pain squeezing into her chest startled her. “It is what I want so until one of us changes his or her mind I guess this isn’t going to happen, huh.”

His tone was offhand, but his look said he was asking her a question, not making a statement.

“Right.” She nodded, wishing he’d leave so she could throw herself onto her bed and let this new troubling misery have its way with her. What had she done here? What had she unleashed? She should have followed her instincts and refused to take a dare. Everything was going so well before this…

Still she couldn’t have gone back on the dare without undermining the organization that had done so much not only to empower its members but for her as well. How else could she have met and become friendly with so many strong, interesting women? Her acquaintances prior to this had been pretty unappealing. Now she felt part of a community that had more on its mind than sex, drugs and rebellion.

More importantly, how else could she have gracefully and anonymously made contact with her half sisters? One invitation sent out to each of them last September had been the perfect way to introduce them to her, though only Katie took her up on joining at first. Bottom line, she’d had no choice but to accept the dare. Now she was paying a price. Another one.

Denver put his pants back together, drained the rest of his drink and took the glass and hers into the kitchen like the good bar manager he was.

At the door he turned, gaze probing again, asking her the question that must be going through his head. What the hell had happened to make her suddenly act the way she did? Was she that disturbed? “Good night. See you tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow.” Lindsay nodded and managed a smile. “Good night.”

She closed the door after him. Maybe he’d give up now. Maybe he’d decide she was some kind of lunatic and give up and leave her alone.

The thought sucked her into a whirlpool of loneliness and fear. What would her life be without Denver’s constant support and concern? The support and concern she regularly stepped on and rejected and only now realized how much she relied on?

She leaned back against the door and closed her eyes.

And what the hell was she going to do about the dare?

4

DENVER TOSSED BACK WHAT he knew should be his last shot of tequila. Except he knew the shot before should have definitely been the last one and the one before that certainly should have been the last one too. Hell, he shouldn’t have come here in the first place. Vito’s Pub, a ridiculous name if ever there was one. The kind of place that stayed open too late for pathetic drunks.

Like ohhhh, saaaay…him.

He hadn’t tied one on like this since the night he broke off his engagement to Jenna. Every second of that horrible conversation would linger in his mind until the day he died—her tears, her begging, the stabbing guilt. Then her abrupt transition into rage and accusations, mostly unfounded, though a few had hit their mark. He remembered every second of his trip back to New Haven on the train, then his cab ride from the station to Naples, the Yale campus bar. After that, things got blurry fast. The next morning he’d woken up naked on the bathroom floor of his dorm with no memory of how he’d gotten there. That had seemed like a pretty good time to decide he’d done enough drinking to last him a lifetime. After that it had been no more than two drinks, no matter what, no matter where, no matter who with. Or with whom. Or who whatever.

Until tonight. See how much goodness and joy Lindsay Beckham had brought into his life? Exactly…none. Nothing but frustration, emotionally, sexually…whatever other lys there were that he couldn’t think of right now.

No more. Enough. He was finished. Done. Operation Lindsay was terminated. She could stay icy and shut down forever. The next day he’d turn in his resignation at Chassy. And why did she call it that anyway? Screw it. Screw her. Or rather no, no screwing her.

That thought hurt too.

He was disgusted with himself for spending a whole year of sniveling after her over and over again. Please open up to me, Lindsay. Please tell me your problems. Tonight was the worst. “I can’t have sex without emotion, Lindsay. Kiss me first, tell me you love me…”

That was it. He was turning into a girlie-man. No, she was turning him into a girlie-man. If he was going to do that, he might as well become gay so he wouldn’t have to deal with women at all anymore.

Crap. He needed to go home. No, he needed a cold swim. He was losing it.

He got up unsteadily and paid for his drinks, staggered in the doorway and caught his shoulder hard on the jamb. Maybe driving wasn’t a great idea. He’d leave his car here and cab it out to Brookline.

Half an hour later, he’d managed to hail a cab, remember his parents’ address, pay the driver and make his way through frosty air that smelled like snow to the Robinsons, next door to the small house his parents had moved into after he left home. They’d wanted to keep a residence in Massachusetts but intended to spend most of their time traveling the world. Which they had. They’d be back in March from their year in Paris, London and Greece. By then he’d better have a plan for the rest of his life to avoid being a thirty-five-year-old man who still lived with Mommy and Daddy.

He used his key and pushed open the sliding door to the pool, stripped naked, nearly falling on his face when he tried to balance on one leg to take off his pants. Then he dove in, swam a few furious if sloppy laps, then a few more, feeling his head clearing slightly. Finally he climbed onto the raft, only slipping off once, and lay back watching the clouds overhead.

Between Lindsay’s behavior tonight and the threat of parental cohabitation, he would finally get his act together, leave Chassy and do what he was meant to do in a place that would appreciate what he had to offer. Then he’d—

“Well, hello-o-o.”

Adrenaline preceded his rational reaction. What the hell was Adele doing here again tonight? He’d never encountered her two nights in a row. It must be nearly two o’clock.

“Nice night for a swim.”

“Yeah.” He slid back into the water, annoyed. He couldn’t help it. He’d wanted to be alone to think. Or alone so he didn’t have to. One of those. “Where d’you come from every night?”

“I’m in the neighborhood.”

“Which house?”

“My uncle lives down the street. I’m visiting for a while.” She lifted her shirt over her head, and his drunken brain registered that her bathing suit didn’t look like a bathing suit. “I’m just back from a party and felt like a swim before bed. I had the cab drop me here.”

She undid her jeans and stepped out of them. The bottom half of her bathing suit didn’t look like a bathing suit either. “I hope you don’t mind but I didn’t bother getting my suit. I didn’t want to wake my uncle just to get it and then wake him again when I got home after.”

Her underwear was lacy, he couldn’t tell what color in the dim light. Maybe black, maybe red, very skimpy. He suddenly remembered he didn’t have a suit on either. Why hadn’t he done as she did and kept his underwear on?

Because he didn’t know she’d show up, wasn’t thinking she might. So fine, he’d stay in the water where she couldn’t see anything and hope she left soon. She could swim in her underwear, and he’d—

Except… He swallowed convulsively. She was taking her underwear off.

Clouds hid the moon tonight, but the lamp outside of the pool area cast enough of a gleam that he could see…well, he could see. Her breasts were large and full with small dark nipples; the hair between her legs was waxed into a tiny strip. Her shape he already knew was stunning.

She shouldn’t get in the pool naked with him. He wanted to say something but he was caught in the stupid male tug-of-war between what his brain recognized as the right thing to do and what his dick did.

She climbed down into the water, step by step on the ladder, her fabulous curving ass swinging provocatively and swam toward him. He didn’t resist. Not when she wrapped her legs around him, not when she gave a tiny exclamation—not of disappointment—when she realized what he didn’t have on either.

Suddenly his brain shut down, his hands went to her waist, then slid up beside her breasts, which seemed to hold him in some kind of stupid enthralled enchantment. He couldn’t look away, couldn’t keep himself from wanting to touch. His thumbs slid over her nipples—he swore his damn thumbs were acting on their own. This wasn’t him. Why wouldn’t his brain work? Her head dropped back in the kind of rapture that looked really fake, like she’d watched too many porn movies.

He moved his thumbs back to her sides. His mind restarted. This wasn’t real. This wouldn’t be anything more than making love to a great pair of tits.