A Guilty Affair

by Maureen Smith

  Dark eyes glittering with mirth, Riley walked back over to the pool table. “He used to make me watch these awful B-movies with him, movies I’d never even heard of before. With titles like—”

  “Terror in Toyland?”

  “Yes!” Riley cried, grinning. “We watched that movie so many times I could recite all the cheesy lines after a while. And what made it even worse was that I found myself remembering certain lines at the most inopportune moments. Like sitting in the middle of an important meeting—”

  “Or interrogating a suspect,” Noah wryly admitted.

  “Oh my God!” Riley burst into laughter, and it was such a warm, infectious sound that Noah couldn’t help but laugh as well.

  Minutes later they were still chuckling quietly, calmly, their eyes lingering over each other as they were transported back in time, each reliving their own special moments with Trevor.

  “I miss him,” Riley said softly.

  “Yeah,” Noah murmured, “me, too.”

  They gazed at each other for another moment before Noah looked away, returning his attention to the pool table. As he leaned over to take the next shot, Riley said casually, “Maybe you could teach me how to play pool.”

  He hit the cue ball hard, sending it flying off the table and thudding across the floor.

  Riley laughed. “Or maybe not.”

  Noah went to retrieve the ball, grumbling, “You’re messing with my concentration, woman.”

  “You?” Riley snorted in disbelief. “I didn’t think that was possible. Trevor used to brag about what a pool shark you were. He said all the other cops called you a hustler, the kingpin of the Sunday Night Pool Sharks.”

  “I don’t know about all that,” Noah muttered.

  She laughed. “Oh, don’t be so modest, Noah. Come on, show me that move Trevor used to talk about. What was it called? The mace…mass…”

  “Massé,” Noah supplied.

  Riley snapped her fingers. “That’s it. The massé. Some sort of complicated technique where you make the cue ball follow a curved path. He told me it takes a lot of skill and concentration, and you were one of the few players he’d ever known who could do it on a consistent basis. So let me see it, Noah. Come on. Please?”

  He chuckled, shaking his head. “I’m not in the mood for showing off.”

  “You’re not showing off if someone asks you to do it. And I’m not just asking—I’m begging. Come on, Noah.”

  He shook his head again. “If you wanna see it done,” he said, arranging balls on the table, “you can watch it on the Internet. There are dozens of Web sites that show clips of the massé and other pool moves.”

  Riley folded her arms across her chest, arching a brow at him. “What’s wrong, Noah?” she taunted. “Afraid you’ve lost your touch?”

  His mouth twitched with humor. “Reverse psychology? You can do better than that, Riley.”

  She gave a dismissive shrug. “It’s okay if you can’t do the move anymore. I mean, you are getting a little old. What are you now? Thirty-six? Just a few years away from the big four-oh.” She shook her head, fighting the tug of a grin. “Oh, yeah. Won’t be long now before you’ll be bouncing your grand kids on your lap and telling them stories about what a pool shark you used to be, back in the day when you were so good you could—”

  “Do this?” With one deft stroke of his cue stick—and without taking his eyes off hers—Noah sent the white cue ball spinning into a curve, then sliding in a tight turn around two other balls before knocking the intended target, the nine-ball, cleanly into the pocket.

  She gaped first at the table, then at him. “H-how did you—”

  He lifted one shoulder in a lazy shrug. “Practice.” Then, because he wasn’t entirely immune to the ageold male tendency to want to impress a beautiful woman, he added, “Come back and see me in forty years, and I’ll still be able to do ’em.”

  Riley grinned at his cocksure promise. “Can you teach me how to do a massé?”

  He arched a brow. “Shouldn’t you learn how to play pool first?”

  “All right, then. Teach me how to play pool.”

  He shook his head as he began racking the scattered balls. “I’m not touching that with a twenty-foot pole.”

  “Why not?”

  He stared at her, and saw with some surprise that her expression was perfectly innocent. “Are you serious? It’s a cliché, Riley. A cliché that’s been done a thousand times over in books and movies—”

  She looked genuinely baffled. “What are you talking about?”

  “This whole setup. You asking me to teach you how to play pool. It…it…” Didn’t she know? Hadn’t she read books or watched movies where the man teaching a woman how to play pool invariably wound up “teaching” her a hell of a lot more? Did she have no clue where this little encounter could lead?

  And that’s when it came to him. The solution to his problem.

  In order to get rid of Riley Kane once and for all, he had to do something horrible. Overworking her hadn’t done the trick. Kissing her hadn’t worked either-though, admittedly, driving her away had been the last thing on his mind when he’d kissed her.

  It was time to up the ante, raise the stakes so high she’d have no choice but to flee.

  He had to seduce her.

  Oh, he knew he wouldn’t get very far. Riley would stop him before anything serious happened. But once she realized what he was capable of, how low he was willing to stoop by hitting on his best friend’s fiancée, she’d hate him, maybe even for the rest of her life.

  He’d worry about that part later.

  His eyes narrowed on her face, searching for any signs that she was trying to con him by feigning naiveté. After all, she’d shown up at his house that evening to get something from him. What if she was desperate enough to try and seduce him in order to get what she wanted?

  Riley pointed a finger at him. “You’re just afraid that if you teach me how to play, one day I’ll be better than you.” Her dark eyes glinted with laughter and a challenge he simply couldn’t resist, though he knew he should.

  “All right, Miss Kane,” he murmured, watching her carefully. “You’re on.”

  Grinning with triumph, she took a swig of beer, then set down the bottle and sidled over to him. “Where do we start?”

  “Let’s begin,” he said, picking up his cue stick from the table, “with an anatomy lesson.”

  She raised a brow. “Anatomy?”

  “The anatomy of the cue stick,” he drawled. “In order to understand pool, you have to familiarize yourself with the equipment. Proper handling of the cue stick is essential to becoming a good player.”

  “All right. I’m listening.”

  “A cue stick has three parts. The tip,” he explained, rubbing his thumb back and forth against the pointy end of the stick, “is what you use to hit the cue ball. And then the shaft—”

  “The shaft?”

  He nodded, hiding a smile as he watched her bite her lower lip. She was either playing him for a fool, or she was genuinely amused. “The shaft is the smooth, narrow length between the tip and the middle of the stick. And the last part is the butt. No, I’m not making that up,” he added when her eyes narrowed suspiciously. “The butt is the thicker portion of the stick that falls between the middle and the end, with a rubber bumper on the bottom.”

  She snickered when he’d finished speaking. “I guess I don’t have to wonder whether it was a man who made up the game of pool.”

  His lips curved. “That obvious, huh?”

  “Oh, most definitely.” Her eyes danced with mirth. God, she was beautiful. “Okay, master, now that I’ve learned the ‘anatomy’ of the exalted cue stick, teach me how to use it.”

  He chuckled softly. “Impatient, aren’t we?”

  “What can I say? I’m a fast learner.”

  “Mmm, we’ll see about that.” Indeed. “Now, normally, before I start a game of pool, I prep my hands with chalk so they won’t be slippe
ry while I’m holding the cue stick. But in the interest of time, we’ll skip the chalk.”

  She held up her slender hands for his inspection. “I’m good, anyway.”

  Noah passed her the cue stick, then stood behind her as she raised it to a wobbly ninety-degree angle. “The first thing you want to do is stand close to the table with your legs lined up to the edge.” As she shifted her body accordingly, he struggled not to stare at the smooth, shapely calves peeking out from beneath her long skirt. “Keep your feet slightly braced apart,” he continued with forced normalcy, “and balance your weight equally between both feet.”

  “Like this?” she asked, glancing over her shoulder at him.

  He nodded. “Bend your knee closer to the table while keeping your back knee straight, then lean toward the table. No, like this,” he murmured, bending to apply light pressure to her legs as he positioned her. The skirt was soft and crinkly, her skin warm and supple underneath. Heat sizzled through his veins, and for a moment he imagined himself lifting her skirt up her legs, past the delicious curve of her thighs—

  “Better?” Riley asked, a husky catch to her voice. If she’d been looking back at him, she would have seen him close his eyes and take a deep, steadying breath before rising to his feet again.

  “Better,” he said softly. “Now, grip the butt of the cue stick with your dominant hand.”

  “Which hand?”

  “This one,” he murmured, placing his right hand over hers. He felt a little tremor run through her at the contact, and it gave him a wicked twinge of satisfaction. If she was attempting to seduce him, it was only fair that he score a few points first.

  Stepping closer behind her, and deliberately keeping his right hand over hers, he said, “Put your other hand palm down on the rail of the table.” He guided her, allowing his fingers to slide through hers for a moment. She trembled again and he smiled to himself.

  Oh, yeah, he could definitely do this.

  “When you’re taking a shot, you’ll lay the shaft in the crease between your thumb and the side of your hand. Like this,” he demonstrated, slowly sliding the stick back and forth in the crease of her palm. “See how it glides smoothly and evenly?” he murmured next to her ear.

  She nodded jerkily.

  “Now you try,” he instructed, keeping his voice a low, silky caress.

  Riley awkwardly imitated his movements.

  “A little smoother,” he corrected. “Not so hard. Your hands are a little damp. Do you want some chalk?”

  She shook her head. “I’m fine. It’s just a little warm in here.” Her voice was tight, as if she were having trouble breathing.

  He knew the feeling. Pressed close to her warm body, with her light, exotic scent filling his nostrils, he felt intoxicated. But he had to remain focused.

  Riley looked back, and with their faces only inches apart, their eyes met and held. “Like this?” she whispered. As she slid the cue stick back and forth in the crease of her hand, he could no longer keep at bay an image of her stroking his penis in the same manner, slow and sensual. He went hard and fully erect just thinking about it.

  When Riley’s eyes flared slightly and her breath hitched, he realized he’d been standing too close to her to conceal the sudden straining at his fly.

  She made a sound in her throat, soft and unintelligible. It wasn’t the purr of a scheming seductress basking in victory over her prey. It was the honest-to-goodness sound of an aroused woman.

  It set him on fire.

  They both released the cue stick at the same time, and before it clattered to the floor, Noah had cupped her face in his hands and was kissing her. She met him eagerly, wrapping her arms around his neck and parting those sweet, lush lips beneath his. Her warm, fruity taste filled his mouth, and at the first touch of her tongue to the tip of his, a jolt of pure need sped through his veins, racing to his groin and throbbing heavily there.

  His hands fell to her waist and slid around the firm, curvy swell of her bottom. She gasped, then moaned as he gently kneaded her, holding her tightly against his rigid arousal.

  As the kiss deepened, grew hotter and wilder, a voice in the back of his mind reminded him that he wasn’t supposed to go all the way. Someone—anyone—was supposed to douse the flame before it blazed out of control.

  Any minute now.

  But he couldn’t bring himself to do it, not when her soft, full breasts were flush against his chest, her belly pressed to his throbbing erection. He lifted his head, thinking for a split second that he might have the strength to end the madness. Instead his mouth sought the fragrant skin of her neck, the silky warmth of it against his tongue, the thrum of her pulse beating against him.

  She moaned his name, clutching a handful of his T-shirt in her fist and pulling him closer as his lips returned to hers. His tongue traced the soft fullness, licking the inner seam before dipping sensually inside. Their tongues tangled in an erotic mating dance, as ancient as time. He wanted her, wanted her with a ferocity that would’ve shocked him if he weren’t already used to the feeling.

  With a rough, guttural sound, he lifted her into his arms, and her legs locked around his waist. He held her in the air for a moment, sliding his hands under her skirt to squeeze her thighs and palm her bottom through the flimsy layer of her lace panties. They groaned in mutual pleasure and anticipation.

  As he set her down on the pool table, she parted her legs and he stepped between them. Leaning down, he crushed his mouth to hers while he lifted her skirt past her thighs, until it settled in a rumpled pool above her knees. As he stepped back, she gazed at him, her lids at half-mast, her plump lips moist from his kisses. The look of smoky desire in her eyes was enough to tempt him into taking her right then and there. But, no, he couldn’t rush this. Not when it was all he’d fantasized about for the past five years.

  He held her close, his hands roaming up and down her back. Seeing that she wore no bra, he tugged down her tank top, and what sprang free were the most beautiful breasts he’d ever seen. Firm, round, the dusky areolas dipped in smooth chocolate.

  She trembled beneath his hungry gaze and instinctively moved to cover herself, but he captured her wrists in his hands and gently drew her arms around his neck.

  “Don’t hide from me, Riley,” he said huskily. “I’ve waited too long for this moment.”

  Thankfully, Riley seemed too far gone to register the meaning of his words, her eyes hazy and heavy-lidded with desire as she watched him cup her breasts in his hands. They spilled from his palms—warm, soft, and fragrant. Need stabbed through him, tightening in his groin.

  “You are so damn beautiful,” he uttered, rasping his thumbs against her nipples.

  She blushed with pleasure, biting her bottom lip.

  Keeping his gaze on hers, he bent to draw one erect nipple into his mouth. At the first touch of his tongue, her breath caught sharply, and she closed her eyes on a helpless moan.

  Spurred by her reaction, as well as his own raging lust, he sucked her hard into his mouth. She moaned in ecstasy and he closed his eyes, too, giving himself up to the exquisite taste of her, pouring years of pent-up desire onto that one breast.

  “Noah,” she whimpered brokenly, arching backward as her arms tightened around the back of his neck. “Noah…”

  The sound of his name on her lips sent another wave of desire coursing through his body. His tongue circled her nipple while he played with the other one, teasing and stroking it into a tight bead.

  Switching his mouth to her other breast, he pressed himself deeper within the cradle of her legs, his hips rolling in the same slow, subtle rhythm that he used on her nipple.

  She moaned fitfully, her hips undulating in response, nearly making him come.

  He dragged his mouth from her breast and kissed her—a long, carnal kiss that left them both panting.

  Voracious now, Noah reached beneath her skirt and tugged at her panties, unbearably aroused to find the crotch already damp. He slid the black lace down h
er legs and over her wedge sandals, pocketing the underwear like a souvenir. He then knelt between her thighs, his mouth homing in on the hot, wet gift that awaited him.

  Riley cried out at the erotically intimate kiss, her fingernails digging into his shoulders through his shirt. Lust raged through his body, throbbing relentlessly in his groin. Grabbing her hips, he rasped his tongue over her slippery feminine lips, murmuring huskily, “You’re so sweet, so damned sweet.”

  “Noah…” She moaned his name over and over as he licked, nibbled and suckled her, filling his mouth with her essence. He tortured her until he thought she might shatter apart, her hips lifting off the table to press into him, her breath loud and gasping.

  He had to have her. He’d wanted this for so long, wanted to make her scream his name and shudder in his arms. But when it happened for the first time, he wanted to be buried deep inside her. He wanted to feel her wet heat surrounding him, contracting, pulling, driving him toward the exquisite end.

  He surged to his feet, intending to pick her up and carry her to his bedroom. Of all the times he’d fantasized about making love to Riley, he’d never imagined taking her on a pool table, as if they were acting out some scene from a book or movie.

  But when she unbuttoned the snap of his jeans and impatiently unzipped them, then reached inside his boxers, he knew they wouldn’t make it to the bedroom.

  He sucked in a harsh breath as her warm fingers encircled his penis, then began stroking up and down the swollen length until he thought he’d explode in her hand.

  Placing his hand over hers, as he’d done during the pool lesson, he guided the tip of his shaft between the wet, inviting folds of her body. The first touch of her blazed through him, scorching his nerve endings and setting him on fire. The urgency he felt made him thrust deep with a single stroke, penetrating her as far as he could. Riley cried out sharply, arching tautly against him and throwing back her head. He swore under his breath, closing his eyes as if he were in agony. The tight, silken clasp of her body was like nothing he’d ever imagined, and for a prolonged moment he remained perfectly still, afraid the slightest movement would push him over the edge. He wanted to take his time with her, savor every moment of this incredible experience like it would be his last. Because it probably would.