It was her time to apologize. “Sorry about that. When I texted that, I was . . .”
“Hurt. I know. It’s okay. But . . . That morning, I didn’t . . .”
Right then something Sheri had suspected earlier became extra clear. “You know I saw you with Anna.”
He nodded. “Cary told me, but he asked that I not say anything.” He paused again. “Look, I’m not saying I haven’t been around the block, but I . . . wasn’t . . .” He ran a hand through his hair. “Cary was with Chloe, and Turner was with Reese. We weren’t hanging out like we used to. And when I’d go out with them, they’d tease me about getting lucky, and I just let them think it happened more than it happened. It was a stupid thing to do, but . . . I just don’t want you thinking I’m . . . that guy.”
A cold wind blew past. She snuggled deeper into his big leather jacket, and with one hand holding the leash, he pulled her close with his other hand as if to warm her.
She looked up. “What guy are you?”
She felt him draw in a big gulp of oxygen. “The guy who wants to kick my ass for what I did six months ago. The guy who wants a second chance.”
She lifted up on her tiptoes and kissed him.
• • •
When they came in, Danny went into the kitchen and fed Taco. He tossed his jacket on the back of a chair and came over to her and slowly pulled off her jacket.
“You want a brandy to warm you up?”
“No.” She thumped his chest with her palm.
He grinned and pulled her against him. “You were cute tipsy.” Fitting his hand into hers, he led the way into the bedroom.
Standing beside his bed, she reached to take off her shoes but he caught her hand. “No, leave ’em on.”
Pulling her against him, he kissed her. A warm, moist kiss that had her toes curling in her pumps.
Then he pulled away and turned her around. “Can I do the honors?”
He reached for the zipper. Her mind went back to their encounter at the wedding. Slowly, like a man who had all night, he unzipped her dress. A finger trailed down the line of her spine. Opening the dress just a little, he leaned down and kissed the back of her neck.
“Did you know the smell of your shampoo drives me mad?”
“Does it?” She leaned her head to the side as his lips moved to the side of her neck.
He didn’t answer. The flutter of her dress falling from her shoulders sent a shiver down her spine. He turned her around and studied her in her black bra and matching panties.
“They look better on you than I fantasized.” He traced the edge of her bra, and she felt her nipples tighten against the lacy material.
“What’s this?” he asked and moved his finger down to circle the pebbled flesh pushing against the black lace.
She drew in a slow breath. His touch sent sweet sensations gliding down her stomach, making her clench her thighs. “Proof.”
“What kind of proof?” he asked, his tone deep and teasing.
“That your touch makes me crazy.”
“Crazy? Or hot?”
“Both.” She reached back to unhook her bra. He stopped her.
He leaned close. “No,” he whispered. “I want to do all the hard work. And don’t get in a hurry because I’m taking my time . . . making you crazy and hot.”
She grinned, feeling herself melting in her panties. “Fine, but two can play that game.” She reached up and loosened the first button of his shirt.
When she loosened the second button, she leaned in and pressed her lips to his chest. Then she pressed her hand to his abdomen and let it inch down.
He caught her hand. “Not so fast.”
“Oh, so you get to touch and I don’t? Who made those rules?”
“I did.” With a smile, he kissed her again. He cupped her right breast, running his thumb over her nipple.
Pleasure had her nipple tightening even more. Then with his lips against hers, his hand lowered and slipped between her thighs.
He deepened his kiss, but her breath still shook, and without meaning to, she moaned. The sound became lost between his lips.
“My, my,” he said pulling away. His finger eased deeper between her legs. “Someone’s already wet.”
“Not my fault,” she said. “Besides, someone’s already hard.” She moved her palm and boldly brushed against the bulge in his khakis. Even through the material, she felt him throbbing, felt his heat, felt her own desire. The ache between her legs doubled. His fingers slid deeper between her thighs, making her dizzy with want. And she felt more moisture collect there.
“You noticed my problem, did you?” he asked.
“Purely accidentally,” she said, barely able to talk, and stroked him again.
His hips moved against her hand again. Then he slipped his finger under the elastic of her black silk panties. Air caught in her throat. A tiny gasp escaped her lips.
“You think we could lie down?” she asked.
“No.” The look he sent her made her knees give. “I want you to come standing up. With your shoes on.”
“You’ve got a shoe fetish,” she managed to say.
“No, I have a Sheri fetish.”
His finger shifted over her most sensitive nub, and she had to lean against him, the sensation was so strong. His other arm came around her waist and held her against him.
“Did I find the spot?” he whispered and moved over her again. She tightened her thighs.
“Don’t close those legs,” he whispered. “Open them for me.”
He leaned down just a bit, and one of his fingers slipped inside her.
“I think . . . I think you’re going to get your wish.”
“What wish is that?” he asked.
She let out a low cry when the tight feeling exploded. Her knees gave, but he caught her. Somehow she trusted he would.
With one swoop, he picked her up and gently placed her on his bed.
She opened her eyes. He had one knee on the bed, leaning over and smiling down at her. “You should have made me work harder for that.” He put his hand to his face, the hand he’d just had inside her, and inhaled. “You smell good.”
She sighed, the sensation still clenching inside her. “I guess I’m just easy.”
“Or am I just that good?” His smile was so sexy, so bad-boy delicious, she melted a little.
She reached up to unbutton his shirt, but he stopped her. “No,” he said. “I want you to come again before I ever take my clothes off.”
“That’s not fair,” she said.
“Whoever said I played fair? I’ve spent six months planning what I was going to do to you when I got you naked again.”
“But I’m not naked.” She lifted her head.
He ran a finger across her lips. “See what you have to look forward to? Right now, just lay back and let me have my way with you.”
She looked up at him through her eyelashes. Her body was already recharging from his sexy words. “Just remember, paybacks are hell.”
He lifted his brow. “I’m counting on it.” He pressed his lips to the side of her throat where he used his teeth, and his tongue, to make her burn.
Heading lower, he bathed her nipples with his mouth through the black silk. “You like that?” he asked.
Chapter Twenty-one
Sheri had to fight to breathe. Obviously sex, or rather achieving orgasms—no one was even naked yet—was one of those sports in which you needed to stay in shape. She did, however, have just enough energy to make good on her promise.
“No. My turn,” she said when he started to pull down her panties. She pushed him back and got up on her weak knees. When he started to complain, she put her finger over his lips. “Don’t argue with me.”
He started to lift up, but she put her hand on his chest and pushed him back on the bed. “I get to play now.”
She straddled him and rocked ever so gently on the hard bulge in his pants.
“I can’t handle too much,” he said, his
voice deep.
“Poor baby.” She grinned. Then, just to torture him, she reached back and unhooked her bra. She let the straps slide off her shoulders, and with a speed meant to seduce—and try his patience—she slowly let the bra fall away.
He inhaled and reached up. “No.” She caught his hands. “You didn’t let me touch. All you can do is lay there and enjoy.”
“But I’d enjoy . . .” He reached again for her.
“No.” She shook her head, her hair swishing back and forth.
He inhaled and let out a low growl. “Okay, but I’m warning you . . . you rock against me one more time . . .”
“No, no, no!” she said, twitching her index finger at him. “You gotta withstand it.”
Leaning forward, she unbuttoned his shirt. One button. Two. Three.
Only when she had it completely open, did she touch him.
“You know they call this a treasure trail, don’t you?” She put her finger about two inches above his navel and then eased her finger down. “Let me see if I can find the treasure.”
When she got to his belt buckle, she unhooked it and rocked her hips again.
“Sheri,” he warned.
She laughed, loving the power she had over him. Loving . . . loving everything about this.
With caution, she started unzipping his khakis.
Growling again, he brought both his arms back and laced his fingers behind his head. The position did wonders for his upper body. The muscles in his arms bulged. His abs pulled and showed his six pack. She scooted down so she could pull down his pants.
He lifted his hips. She heard him kicking off his shoes. The pants slipped down his legs. She left on his fitted boxers. The sight of him, hard to the max, creating a tent in the dusty blue cotton, had her almost blushing. She batted her bashfulness away like she would a pesky fly.
“Problem?” he asked, as if he’d read her mind.
“Not me,” she lied. “Looks like you got one,” she teased. She moved off the bed and pulled his pants completely off.
“Condoms?” she asked.
“Bathroom, top drawer. On the right.”
She started that way but then turned. And like she knew, he was watching her. Trying to come off as sexy, she reached down and ran a hand down to her black panties. “I guess these should go, huh?”
He just swallowed, his eyes bright with heat and want. She turned and gave him her ass. For some reason, the movies showed it that way and it seemed sexier. Slowly, she slipped her panties down. She was just about to step out of them when she saw it.
Her wax job.
How in the hell could she have forgotten?
Oh, yeah, the bomb.
She yanked her panties back up. And faced him. Her face flushed warm.
“Something wrong?” he asked.
She bit down on her lip. Telling him no was out of the question. She wondered if she could convince him to turn out the lights.
“I’ve got a little problem.”
He propped himself up on his elbow. “What?”
She bit down her lip. “Cary called Chloe about her grandmother while we were at the spa.”
His brows pinched. “What?”
“The spa. We went to the spa?”
“I’m not following. At all.”
“I was mid-treatment.”
He shook his head. “Still not following.”
She laughed out loud, from nothing but pure unadulterated embarrassment. “Waxing?” she said. She moved her hand around the front of her panties. “There’s the landing strip. The Bollywood. I sort of . . . created a new one.”
His eyes widened as if he was finally understanding. “Mid-treatment?” He laughed.
“It kind of looks like . . .” She made a swirl with her hand. “A black and—”
“A black and white cookie?” he said, barely able to talk. His shoulders shook.
“How did you know?”
He dropped back, and laughter spilled out of him. “You mentioned it last night. I didn’t have a clue what you were talking about.” His smile came on so bright. “Come on, let me see this cookie.”
She tried to frown, but she really couldn’t. As embarrassed as she was, she couldn’t help but giggle. “Be nice.”
“Have I not been nice so far?”
Because she didn’t have any option, she slipped her panties down. She saw the amusement in his eyes. “Don’t laugh.”
He laughed. Then he jumped up, grabbed her around her waist and picked her up.
She wrapped her legs around him, and she felt his sex against her. Her body ached to feel him inside. To be completely filled by him, to feel him move inside her.
“You are the most beautiful, the most charming, the most delightful woman I have ever had the opportunity to be naked with. And I love black and white cookies.”
He rested her on the bed and then moved to the bathroom. When he came back, he was completely naked. His sex pointed to the ceiling, hard and ready. He stretched out beside her, and she took the foil package from his hand.
“May I?” she asked.
“I’m yours,” he said. She used her teeth to open the package and then pushed it down him. Palming him, up and then down, she felt the blood pump into the hard flesh. He moaned. “Damn, you have good hands.”
He caught her and pushed back on the bed. She thought he’d find his place and slip inside her. But no. He took his time. Slow touches. Slower kisses.
Finally, she couldn’t take it. She shoved him back and crawled on top of him. She shifted ever so slightly until she felt he was where he needed to be and then lowered herself on him. His length filled her, and she felt the pressure, the pleasure and the pulsing of sheer ecstasy inside her.
He caught her hips, rocked her and his sex went deeper. She exhaled. His hips moved, up, down, in perfect timing. And together they found their way to a place where nothing existed except the wonder of a man and a woman finding new meaning in each other’s arms.
• • •
It wasn’t as good as Danny remembered it. It was ten times better.
He rolled over so his weight wouldn’t come down on top of her. He hadn’t had sex in six months, but it wasn’t the sex.
It was her. It was who he could be with her. It was the mix of bold and bashful that drove her. It was that little noise she made when she came undone. It was knowing he’d been the one to undo her.
It was the laughter. It was the flirting. It was seeing her trying to please him, when all he wanted was to please her.
Oh, he took pride in never being a selfish lover, but this was completely different. In the past, he saw sex as something he did. A performance, the act of physically doing something that left him and a partner happy. This wasn’t something they did. It was something they created. Together. And the intensity of it both terrified him and awed him at the same time.
He pulled her against him. “You okay?” he managed to ask.
She nodded, her head buried on his chest. He felt dampness and pulled back. Tears rolled down her cheeks and webbed her lashes.
“Good tears?” he choked out, his chest clutching.
She smiled then. “Good tears.”
• • •
“Wake up, sleepyhead,” Danny whispered in her ear.
Her lids fluttered open. He spotted her baby blues through her lashes. “Someone kept me up all night long,” she whispered and then put a hand over her mouth.
“Blame it on the cookie,” he teased.
She thumped him in his chest with her palm.
“What time is it?” she asked.
“Early. A quarter ’til six. I have to be at work at eight. I’m going to take Taco for his walk. I . . . I didn’t want to leave without . . . telling you.” The thought that she’d wake up alone like she had last time had been the deciding factor on disturbing her. “I’m going to drop Taco back off and then take my run. Head to the deli and pick up kolaches. You like kolaches?”
“Hmm,”
she muttered and let her eyes close.
“There’s coffee made. Do you want me to bring you a cup?”
She lifted her lids again and put her hand back in front of her lips. “No, I can do it.”
He caught her hand, shifted it away from her lips and kissed her.
She pulled back. “Morning breath.”
“I’ll take your breath anytime,” he said and kissed her again.
She cut her eyes up at him and shot him a smile. Not just any smile, but a you’re-gonna-fall-in-love-with-me kind of smile. And he knew that was where he was headed—if he wasn’t already there. She was going to own his heart and soul.
And then she’d wield the power to hurt him the way Tanya had. The way it had hurt when his mama left.
He stood up. His insides shook. “I’ll be right back.”
He and Taco took two laps around his apartment. He forgot a bag and didn’t care.
He let the dog in and took off. He ran hard. Fast. He ran until it hurt.
When he got to the deli, he went around the side, put his hands on his thighs and tried to fill his lungs with oxygen. It took almost three minutes before he could breathe normally. Not that it mattered. He wasn’t walking away from her. He needed her more than he needed to breathe.
After buying kolaches and two cinnamon rolls, he headed back. His pace slower. His panic still brewing, but not spilling over.
As he turned to go into his apartment building, he saw a silver Honda pull in. He did a double-take of the guy behind the wheel. The car slowed down one second, drove up and down the parking lot and headed out the exit. The car was already moving into traffic when Danny realized who he thought it was. Mark Taylor.
It couldn’t be, could it?
No, it was just someone who looked like him. His mind was playing tricks, or reminding him that instead of wigging out about Sheri, he should be worrying about finding out who was trying to hurt her.
He continued on to his apartment building.
Unlocking his door, he went inside and set the deli box on the kitchen table. He saw a half-empty coffee cup there. So she’d gotten up.
Divorced, Desperate and Daring Page 22