Sexy in the City

by Alexia Adams, Galen Rose, Samantha Anne, Carolann Camillo, Nicole Flockton, Iris Leach, Olivia Logan, Nancy Loyan, Stephanie Cage (epub)

  “Nick.” A ragged sound rasped from her throat. She watched in the mirror as he touched and tormented her. She reached down and dug her hands through the hair at the sides of his head. “I think you should … you know … ”

  He dragged his mouth up her body until it almost touched her parted lips. “Get down to more serious business?”

  “Hmm, yes, more … ”

  He leaned across the bed, opened a drawer in the nightstand and took out two foil packets. He left one on the stand, ripped the other open, and slid on the condom.

  “Take fair warning. Once will not be enough tonight.”

  She certainly hoped not.

  Chapter 22

  He settled between her legs and stroked her for a moment, then pushed inside her. For a moment, he stayed perfectly still, poised above her, his hands braced alongside her body. Then he withdrew almost completely before he plunged part way in again.

  “Is this serious enough for you?”

  “Mmm.”

  “Do you want more?” He slid in deeper.

  “Yes, more … ”

  He plunged farther and began to stroke gently. “Like this?”

  “Yes.” The feel of him inside her made her pull in her breath and hold it until she was almost dizzy.

  He pumped harder and faster. “Like this?”

  Oh God, if she didn’t already love him.

  His mouth came down over hers. His tongue entered her mouth and he thrust his engorged penis deeper inside her. The more she squirmed and moaned, the harder he thrust. She wrapped her legs around his waist and he wove his fingers through her hair and held her as he rammed deep and hard. She clutched his shoulders and rocked in unison to his body’s rhythm. Pleasure hit her in rolling waves that pushed her to the edge of climax. She held on, waiting for him, and wondered just how many buildings he could leap in just one bound. Every thrust told her his erection was still rock hard. Her body had reached the point where it could no longer stop the orgasms that racked her limbs and pulled everything tight inside her.

  “Molly,” he gasped and buried his face against her neck and shuddered to a climax. He lay still for a while. His breath came in rapid spurts. Then he withdrew from her. She unwound her legs from across his back. The sheet felt sticky hot under her feet, just like her body.

  “Don’t move.” He got up off the bed and went into the bathroom. When he came back, he lay down beside her and brushed a thick lock of curly hair off her forehead. “This is all I’ve thought about these past days.”

  She stroked his cheek with the back of her hand. He needed a shave, but that only made him more handsome, better than any of the guys in magazine ads or hot movie stars. “You mean even when you poked around in the dark earlier and searched for some bad guy?”

  “No.” He rolled onto his back. “From that first day in your office.”

  “You thought about making love to me when you were so mad?”

  He brushed her bottom lip with his thumb. “I wasn’t really that mad, especially after I saw you.”

  “Yes, you were.”

  “Okay, I was pissed, but I still wondered what it would be like, if it would be good.”

  As she snuggled against him, she laid her arm across his chest. “Was it?”

  “It was fantastic. I came close to confirming that in Napa.”

  “What was bidding on that trip really about, anyway?”

  “At first, it was about getting you alone and winning you over to my side. But then it became all about enjoying the day with you. What Cynthia and Dominique told me about you at the auction proved true. You’re warm and bright and funny. Everything about that day felt right.”

  “It did for me, too.”

  “I was right about something else, also.”

  “What?”

  “Your hair.”

  She sat partway up and looked down into in his eyes. “What about it?”

  “I wondered if it would stick out all over like heating coils after hot sex.”

  “Oh my God.” She shot all the way up and stared into the mirror. “I look freaky.” She clapped her hands against the curls that stuck out in almost every direction.

  Nick laughed and pulled her back down beside him. “You look beautiful. Just imagine how I would have felt if I hadn’t curled your hair.”

  “Is that some sort of a test with you?”

  “No.”

  She lay against him, so happy, and yet it wasn’t a complete happiness. Complete happiness is saying, “I love you,” after sex. She couldn’t say anything approaching that to him. Maybe she’d never say it. Maybe tonight was all there would ever be for him and her. That sucked.

  She had a perfect view of them in the mirror. He had his arm around her and her head rested against his chest. They looked like a contented couple who’d just had great sex. Tonight, she wanted to give in to the fantasy that they were a couple in a committed relationship. Only he controlled the kind she wanted … needed. He controlled everything, even beyond the sex. She might eventually come to think of this as the million-dollar relationship, all in the debit column. A relationship that, inadvertently, she’d somehow instigated. Thanks to her blithely offered opinions, his tenants held out for a big payoff — and rightly so — one he swore he couldn’t afford. Now she was cemented in the middle. It was as if a bus bore down on her from one end and a sixteen-wheeler truck from the other. She didn’t dare think about the clinic and its possible demise under his bulldozer. Not tonight, when she was so happy.

  He wound a curl around his finger and kissed her lightly on the lips.

  “What are you thinking about?”

  How could she answer his question? Certainly not with the truth. Maybe if she didn’t answer, he’d go back to whatever thoughts had occupied him.

  “Molly?”

  “Hmm.”

  “Don’t you want to tell me?”

  “Is it important?”

  “It is to me.” He sounded serious.

  That’s when she decided on a half-truth. “I was thinking … I’m glad I came over tonight.” Ooh. That sounded like they’d just had a hot game of Scrabble instead of the hottest sex on the planet.

  “That’s close enough.”

  “Close enough to what?”

  “To what I thought. That I’m one lucky guy that you changed your mind.”

  He followed the curve of her body until his hand rested on her hip. Then he tipped her head back and kissed her with the same depth of desire and need as before. He stroked her thigh, then trailed the back of his hand up her body to her breast. Deliciously hot tingles poked at her skin everywhere he touched. Then he reached for the other packet he left on the nightstand and took out the condom.

  “Okay, Miss Molly, show me what else you’ve got.”

  She reached up, threw her arms around his neck, dragged him down on top of her, and showed him more than he’d probably ever expected.

  • • •

  Molly awoke from a sound sleep and gazed around the unfamiliar room. For a moment, she couldn’t figure out where she was or how she got there. Then her gaze settled on Nick. He lay on his back, one arm bent at the elbow and resting above his head on the pillow. He was naked and so was she. It didn’t take her aunt’s crystal ball to figure out why.

  She sat up and glanced at the clock on the nightstand. The luminous dial showed 5:19. Yikes. She hadn’t been home in almost twenty-four hours.

  Maybe she’d better not wake him. She slipped quietly from the bed. By last count, they’d made love three times. She remembered every moment, enough at least to plaster a smug, self-satisfied grin on her face. Was three times ever enough? Right now didn’t seem like the optimal moment to find out.

  Her last recollection of her shoes and panties was they’
d landed somewhere on the carpet at the foot of the bed. She began to hunt. Eventually, she found them and slipped them on. The rest of her clothing resided somewhere in the kitchen. Nick had left the stove light on, and she stumbled in that direction without a mishap.

  She had her bra fastened and her skirt halfway zipped up when he appeared in the doorway. He raked his hands through his hair and walked into the kitchen. His jeans were on but only partially zipped. Serious stubble shadowed his face.

  “What are you doing?”

  “I’m getting dressed.” She reached for her blouse, which lay in a heap on the kitchen counter.

  “Why?”

  “I have to go home.”

  He frowned. “What for?”

  “I have to shower and change my clothes.”

  “I have a bathroom with plenty of running water.”

  She slipped on her blouse. “There are things in my bathroom I need.”

  “Like what?”

  “Well, my toothbrush, for one.”

  “Oh.” He frowned, then his expression brightened. “We can share mine.”

  She smiled. At least he hadn’t offered her a brand new unopened one, like he kept a supply on hand in case of an unplanned sleepover.

  “It’s a generous offer, but I have to decline.” This didn’t seem the right time to mention that after shampooing her hair, she’d require whole gobs of conditioner to tame it. He probably didn’t need any.

  “I thought we’d have breakfast. I know a place that serves the best burrito within a hundred miles. I want to take you there.”

  Did a quick bite in a hole-in-the-wall Mexican joint qualify as a real date? She liked to think so. The only other time they’d shared food, he’d won her in an auction. She glanced down at her skirt and blouse.

  “I can’t go anywhere like this except home. My clothes are all wrinkled.” That would give the burrito crowd something to gossip about.

  “I could probably round up an iron from somewhere.”

  She almost laughed but swallowed it in case he’d take any levity as a sign she might weaken.

  “Your neighbors might not appreciate being awakened at this hour.” She buttoned her blouse and tucked it into her skirt. Her mouth felt like it had sprouted cat fur and her body ached for a hot water-logging, skin-shriveling shower.

  He held up his hands, palms facing her. Disappointment etched his facial muscles. “Okay, I suppose there are a bunch of girly things you have to do. I’ll drive you home.”

  “My car is in your garage. I don’t need a ride.”

  “It’s five thirty in the morning. I’m not going to let you drive home alone.”

  She glanced at the wall clock. “It’s almost twenty of six. By the time I hit the street, it will start to become light.”

  He came over to her and put his hands on her shoulders. “Did I remember to tell you you’re one of the most stubborn people I know?”

  She almost said, “Yes, along with your tenants,” but decided it best to stay away from the T word. Not after she’d had the most mind-blowing night of her life and wanted another.

  “I’m a grownup. I can handle the streets at dawn. Lots of people will be on their way to work. I won’t be the only one out there.” Pale light had started to filter into the apartment through the balcony doors.

  “Okay, I’ll concede round one. Round two is mine. I’m taking you down to the garage.” He fished his shirt off a chair and jammed his arms into the sleeves. While he worked on the buttons with one hand, he placed the other on her shoulder. She grabbed her purse. He led her to the front door.

  He put his arm around her in the elevator. When they reached her car, she fished out her keys and pushed them into the lock. Nick opened the door, and she slid onto the seat.

  “Promise me one thing,” he said.

  “What’s that?”

  “Next time, you’ll stay the night and have breakfast with me.”

  Next time. “Sure.”

  He closed the car door, and she pulled out of the slot. She headed up the ramp that led to the street and watched for traffic but mostly watched him. He stood in the opening of the garage, his hands on his hips. Her heart squeezed in her chest. Maybe it wasn’t hopeless after all. He’d said “next time.” He knew she wouldn’t turn traitor on his tenants. So maybe he had a plan. After all, he’d admitted he’d thought about her ever since that first day. He’d had almost two weeks to come up with a solution.

  Maybe he felt more for her than he showed on the surface. Tonight must have told him something about her strong attraction to him. Would he equate that for love and return it? She smiled as she drove toward home, confident she was heading toward something good with him.

  • • •

  When her taillights disappeared, Nick closed the security gate and rode the elevator back up to his apartment. He usually never paid attention to the emptiness, but now that he’d admitted to it, without Molly there, it hit him even harder.

  He shucked his shirt and pants and went into the bathroom and ran the shower. As he stepped under the spray, his mind turned into a movie factory that produced flickering images of him and Molly making love. It went on long enough for the bathroom to fill with steam and the water to turn cool. He remembered all the places he’d touched her and it turned him on, setting off fireworks in his head. No woman had ever excited him like that before. From that first day in her office, he’d thought about getting her naked. When it finally happened, he’d just let his body do all the thinking for him.

  He toweled off and headed for the bedroom. He wondered if this thing he had going with her would turn into a documentary short or a full-length feature. There were a couple of Olympic-sized hurdles he still had to jump over — no, not jump, vault. Whether their movie lasted for ten minutes or two hours, he’d thread the first reel tonight after he took her someplace special for dinner. He’d walk over to her office later and set up the date.

  He dressed in slacks, a dress shirt, and a tie, and was about to head for his favorite Mexican restaurant when his phone rang. His first thought was of Molly. He couldn’t think of anyone else who’d call him at six thirty on that particular morning. He took the call in the kitchen and almost said, “Good morning, sweetheart.” Good thing he held back. It wasn’t Molly on the other end of the line but a man who introduced himself as Detective Larsen.

  Chapter 23

  Molly spent a longer time than usual doing damage control to her hair. Then, dressed in a crisp white blouse and the new navy blue linen suit she’d recently splurged on at Nordstrom’s, she maneuvered her car through the Tuesday morning commuter traffic.

  Two SUVs cut her off, and she realized she’d better pay more attention before she wound up in an accident. That meant she had to stop thinking about Nick. She’d done nothing else ever since she’d pulled away from his garage. She relived every moment, held tight each memory. Images flooded her mind and along with them came questions. Would she see him today? Would he ask her out on a date? When, if ever, would they make love again? She stayed away from the most important questions — would he reach an equitable settlement with his tenants and in the future build somewhere far away from the clinic? If both didn’t happen, there could be no relationship. And if not, how could she live the rest of her life without him?

  The traffic thinned as she drove into the South of Market area. She picked up more speed as she neared the construction site. A quick glance at the dashboard clock told her it was almost eight thirty. Nick should be around by now. Her heart did a little flip-flop in anticipation. She didn’t want to interrupt him — just look. Okay, stare shamelessly. That should be enough to get her through the morning.

  But when she went to make the turn onto his end of the street, a police car blocked it and a patrolman waved away rubberneckers. She slowed to a crawl. Sever
al vehicles, including squad cars, a fire engine and an ambulance, jammed the street. The far end of the block where the clinic stood was cordoned off as well. She searched for Nick through the throng of policemen that crowded the sidewalk. Her mind raced with every possible disaster — “something big” that closed down the site, a fire had torn through the apartment building, a tenant had suffered a heart attack. Maybe Duncan Serk had discovered a more lethal way, other than a picket line, to shove his point home.

  The cop approached her. “Move it, lady.”

  She braked, leaned over, and lowered the passenger side window. “What happened?”

  “Did you hear me? I said get going.” The cop signaled with his thumb. He gripped the handle of the baton attached to his belt with his other hand. His pinched face and dark glaring eyes invited no further questions.

  “Yes, officer.” Molly crossed the intersection and hunted for a place to park. She spotted a loading zone midway down the avenue and decided to chance it. She squeezed in behind a linen service van, locked up, and hiked back in her three-inch wedge heels. When she reached the corner, the same policemen intercepted her.

  “You again. You can’t go down there.”

  All the vehicles were parked haphazardly in the street directly in front of the apartment house. She thought she spotted Mrs. Z and a couple of the tenants.

  She pointed to the building. “I know the people who live in those apartments. I need to speak with them.”

  “You want to get arrested?” The patrolman reached behind his back to where she thought he might keep his handcuffs.

  “Well, no … ”

  “Then beat it.”

  Several cars had stopped at the intersection and blocked traffic. A crowd gathered at the corner. The patrolman blew his whistle and signaled for the drivers to move on. Molly scooted down the street the moment he averted his eyes. When a gravelly voice called, “Hey, you, get back here,” she broke into a somewhat wobbly sprint as if the moment called for her to warm up for next year’s Bay to Breakers race. She slowed down only when she reached the apartment/construction site.