Just Her Type

by Laudat, Reon

  “Sometimes I am stunned by what springs out of people’s imaginations.”

  “You mean the scenes that make Caligula look like a Care Bear.”

  Kendra felt the rumble of his laughter. “For the record, I enjoy books with blazing hot sexy times as much as the next person. But I like it best when it’s coupled with some story, preferably some romance, at least a smidgeon of it or some other emotional connection such as mutual respect. Happily-ever-after is not required, if it doesn’t fit. An attempt at characterization, beyond those physical acts, can’t hurt, either. But I tend to prefer the love and longing done well, you know, the adult fairy tale.”

  “Love and longing are not just fairy tales.”

  “Maybe just the happily-ever-after part. Amiably in the interim or doggedly till the end is more like it.”

  “You make it sound like hard time in Attica. Do you believe that?”

  Instead of elaborating, Kendra plucked the hibiscus flower from her hair, tore the bloom in half, and passed one piece to him.

  “For me?”

  “For you,” she murmured as he tucked his half flower inside his shirt pocket.

  She settled back against his chest as Dominic languidly stroked her arms and kissed her earlobes, sending a sizzling current racing through her body. She pressed deeper inside the V of his legs.

  Dominic removed the clip holding her ponytail. His hands lowered and curved around her neck. He laced his fingers through her hair as his warm breath danced along the opposite shoulder. “You’re delicious.” He skimmed his soft lips across her shoulders and neck as she sagged against him, mewling for more. He teased her collarbones until she turned so their lips could meet.

  “I couldn’t wait to be with you again,” he said between soft pecks before deepening the kiss again. Heavy breathing mingled with the rush of the tide and the rustle of palm leaves. A soft breeze carried the scent of tropical flowers and foliage. She stretched out on the sandy blanket and Dominic covered her body with his. As his hands slipped along the curve of her slender waist to the dramatic flare of her hips, he crooned a throaty, “La Guitarra.”

  Their deep, silky, open-mouth kisses made her lightheaded and wet with yearning.

  “You have no idea how much I want you right now,” he said, breaking the kiss as if to pace himself.

  “I think I have a pretty good idea,” she said as he pressed against her.

  When Dominic’s large hand brushed along her skin toward her top she didn’t stop him, but mentally willed him to slip it underneath her top and strapless bra. When he did, she drew in a shuddering breath of gratitude as he kneaded one breast. He moved to unzip her shorts and ease his hands inside. She had already devised a code for what was acceptable with Dominic. Friends held hands. Friends could sometimes flirt. Friends could even occasionally kiss. Friends could touch. But friends did not give each other teeth-rattling orgasms on moonlit tropical beaches.

  But still, oh… What he was doing to her felt so good. The fluttering softness at her core. The slow melting pleasure of it. She moaned in his mouth and his skilled movements only grew more determined to take her over the edge. He’d read her and was determined to coax her to release before she changed her mind. And she almost let it happen, until… Too much. Too soon. With as much determination as she could muster she released a strangled plea, “Dominic, wait.” She covered his hand with hers to coax it back to her waist.

  After she broke the kiss, his dark eyes held a question. “I thought—”

  “I know. I’m sorry. We’re just friends, remember?”

  “With benefits?” he asked, tracing her lips with the pad of his finger.

  “Only certain benefits.”

  She moved his hand away from her shorts. “Not here. Not now.”

  He whispered against her ear, “All for you. We don’t have to go further than…” His hand moved downward again, but only dallied at the waistband of her shorts as he awaited consent.

  “I’m not ready for that, either. That’s why we need to stop.”

  “Everything?”

  “Well, um, no. Not yet. A little more kissing is fine.”

  “You’re killing me, you know that.” He reached toward his fly to adjust himself. “We sound like a couple of teens fogging up windows in the backseat of a borrowed car and negotiating first, second, and third base.”

  “I know.” She laughed. “More first base please.” As she curled her arms around his neck, he slipped his tongue back inside her mouth.

  This was most definitely playing with fire. And again, she felt things for him beyond lust. Still, she filled her hands with his hard bottom, and he moved in a slow, tantalizing motion against her hips. She didn’t stop him. The cold, grayness of New York and dates with her Cupid “beaus” from that dating site awaited her. In the meantime, she made out with a hot guy on a breathtaking moonlit beach and looked forward to signing two new clients who had huge money-making potential. And there was that earlier email about the additional co-op. Kendra’s trip couldn’t get much better than this.

  Chapter 17

  “So, I meant to ask more about the poetry.” Kendra pulled her wrap around her shoulders during the drive back to their hotel just before midnight. “Do you still write?”

  “I do,” Dominic replied, moving the gearshift. “Not poetry. Novels, but I don’t write for publication.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes, really.”

  “You have to let me read your work!”

  “No can do.” Dominic zoomed past a black pickup truck and an obviously lost red Porsche on the highway.

  “Why not? You shared ‘Ode to a Garbage Can.’ ”

  “That’s different. I write novels for myself.”

  “And that’s enough for you?”

  “Yes, it’s enjoyable.”

  “Are you any good?”

  “Sucky high school poetry aside? It doesn’t matter. You and I know how subjective ‘good’ and ‘bad’ can be in our business. Will it sell?” He lifted one finger. “Now that’s the question.”

  “And what size is the potential audience? What does that audience want or expect from a piece of writing? One man’s sparklingly original masterpiece is another man’s—”

  “Derivative crapfest.”

  “True, so true.” Kendra slapped her hand against her thigh. “Welp! Tonight has been chock-full of all sorts of interesting revelations. So Dominic Tobias is a novelist. Wow. Just wow.”

  “A lot of agents do editorial work for their clients.”

  “Yeah, but editing is editing. Writing is writing, creating something on a blank page, actually producing a magnum opus—”

  “This is our secret.”

  “Thanks for confiding in me,” Kendra said with sincerity. “But I wish you’d let me read something, some sample pages.” She eased closer, batting her eyelashes at him. “Please.”

  “Why do you want to read my work?”

  “I happen to think you can gain a lot of insight into an artist’s heart and soul through his or her work.”

  “So I’m an artiste now, am I? And you want to know my heart and soul?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  “Because. We’re friends now so, um, I obviously like you. And quite honestly, I’m, um, well, knocked off my feet.”

  “She said, stumbling over her words.”

  “Your Tom Swifty is showing.” She laughed.

  “You already know I like you, too.”

  “Enough to let me read a few pages?”

  “Why do you like me?”

  Kendra squirmed on her seat, feeling more vulnerable than when he’d felt her up at the beach. “Because you’re smart, handsome, and so much fun. And I actually like talking to you. You talk back. You’re so open, and you listen, really listen. Something must be out of whack with your Y chromosome.”

  “See what you missed on that plane ride from Dallas back to New York?”

  “And you always s
mell so good. You’re probably one of the most fascinating men I’ve ever met.”

  “Probably one of the most fascinating?” Dominic placed his hand near his heart. “Oh, woman, you wound me.”

  “Here I am opening up to you, and you’re mocking me? I take back what I said about your Y chromosome. And don’t try to change the subject. I know there is such a thing as a hobbyist or recreational writer, who says he or she writes for the sheer joy of it, finding pure blissful satisfaction only in the creative process, but—”

  “But what?”

  “I’ve always had trouble buying it. In this line of work you’re always hearing or meeting someone who says the writing is for his or her eyes only, but eventually it will slip. Having some sort of audience—even if it’s an audience of two or three readers—might not be so bad after all. If only for that small validation of showing someone what you’ve done with blank pages.”

  “A read from a family member or friend is not true validation. If you’re doing it for fun or self-fulfillment, not for monetary gain, and you’ve told them that, only a complete ass of a friend or relative would say your writing sucks. And besides, I don’t need any kind of validation,” he said casually, keeping his eyes on the road.

  “Well, if a tree falls in the forest, and there’s no one around to hear it—”

  “Now she’s pulling out the philosophical riddles, but I’m not sure that one fits. I know I’ve written complete novels, seven of them to be exact. They exist on my hard drive and a cloud for backup.” Again, he looked at her when she was a little slow with a comeback. “Kendra? You’re not angry, are you?”

  “Just feigning laryngitis,” she recited a line from his terrible teen poetry. “Seven. You’ve written seven novels?”

  “Yep, seven,” he said, obviously enjoying her reaction.

  “You know, for a lot of write-for-myself types, it’s all about the fear of criticism or critiquing by others. I believe if these people could get a guarantee that all feedback, besides what comes from friends and relatives, would be positive they’d try to publish. I think fear is holding them back. But that’s okay. I totally get it. Putting yourself out there like that is a very scary thing. Not at all for the weak or faint of heart. Only the thick-skinned and courageous need apply.”

  “And that’s about as subtle as a snot rocket. But you’re on to something. Maybe I still have scars from that bullying incident at school.”

  “So you’re actually admitting you can dish out the critiques, but you’re too thin-skinned to take them?”

  “Yup. That about sums it up.”

  “Unbelievable.” Kendra punched his shoulder.

  Dominic placed his hand on her knee, speckled with grains of sand.

  “It all plays into that gargantuan ego thing.”

  “Possibly.”

  Soon they reached the resort where Dominic parked in the covered garage.

  “Do we look as if we’ve been rolling around in the sand?” she asked as he helped her out of the Jeep. Her hands fluttered over her disheveled outfit and hair. Sand scattered on the ground.

  “Yes. Because we have been rolling around in the sand.” Dominic slid an arm around her waist and tugged her close to place a trail of kisses on her cheek and neck. “And I can’t wait to do it again.”

  “And I can’t wait to jump in the shower. I have sand in places—”

  “Don’t tempt me.”

  Kendra shivered with desire as Dominic nuzzled her ear. Though she’d been engaged three times, she couldn’t recall feeling so hot for her former fiancés. That observation took her aback.

  “A shower sounds good right about now,” he said. “I promise not to hog the soap.”

  “We’re just friends.”

  “And I aim to change that.”

  “A bit presumptuous, aren’t you?”

  “Having my tongue in your mouth and my hand in your pants pretty much shot to hell the integrity of a strictly platonic friendship. You’re going to be mine,” he said huskily. “All of you.”

  “Oh, my!” Kendra pretended to swoon like a damsel in an old gothic novel. “So this beta can get alpha.”

  “Absolutely. When it serves this beta’s purpose,” he growled against her neck. “So you like?”

  “I love.”

  He tugged at her shorts. “How about I rip your shorts and panties off right here with my teeth.” He growled and made a teeth-chomping sound.

  “Now that’s downright scary.”

  Both laughed. When they sobered, Dominic looked deep into her eyes with his hands framing her face. “I had such a great time tonight.”

  “I did, too.”

  “Are you ready for this date to end?”

  When Dominic looked at her that certain way she had trouble resisting him. “No,” she said in a moment of complete honesty.

  Dominic leaned down and whispered in her ear, “Then let me spend the night.”

  The way he had trouble letting her go made her feel so feminine and desirable. But she didn’t want to risk an overnight date or people seeing them like this. Professional conferences heightened her self-consciousness. But was it so bad if colleagues believed as a single woman she was enjoying an island fling with a sexy single guy?

  “I’d prefer we didn’t walk in together,” she said. “I also don’t want someone seeing you tiptoeing away from my room at odd hours.”

  “I have no problem with the walk of shame. We’re single consenting adults. And besides, if the look you were going for is no-nonsense business woman, those two huge hickeys on the left side of your neck say otherwise. A scarf or turtleneck won’t work in this heat, babe.”

  “Hickeys!” Kendra gasped and slapped her palm against her neck. “You didn’t!”

  “Just kidding. But remember, we did leave together. There are already several eyewitnesses. If I return alone, someone might assume something nefarious went down, and I dumped the body in the ocean.”

  Kendra held firm. “It’s not as if we’re known as an established couple. I don’t want us to look like some sleazy conference hookup.”

  “But if we know the deal, who cares?” As he kissed her neck, she delighted in the contrasting textures of his soft lips and facial stubble.

  “This is a professional conference, Dominic,” she repeated.

  “I know and I’m taking what I’m doing here,” he kissed the tip of her nose, “and here,” he kissed her earlobe, “seriously.” When she refused to yield, he said, “Okay. We don’t need to walk in together. You go first. I’ll wait and come up a little later. That’ll give me a chance to change, which is not a bad idea.”

  “Dominic,” she said with a warning note. “We should say good night right now. I had a great time. See you tomorrow.” She turned to walk away.

  “I want to come up to talk some more so we can get even better acquainted.”

  Kendra stopped to look over her shoulder, throwing him a line. “Just conversation?”

  “Yes, conversation.” Dominic smiled and pumped his hips. “Body language.”

  “Oh, you!” Kendra chuckled and turned to march toward the hotel entrance.

  “What’s your room number?” he called out, before closing the space between them. He removed the Jeep key ring from his pocket and let it swing before her face as he affected a kooky European accent. “You are getting sleepy. Ve-ry, ve-ry sleep-y. Now what is your room number?”

  “You’re crazy!” Kendra popped his chest. “And you sound like Count Chocula.”

  “I’m striking out here so I had to a different tactic.”

  Kendra couldn’t remember the last time she’d had so much fun on a date. “What am I going to do with you? I might reconsider.” She moved toward the entrance to give herself a good running start, before casting a come-hither look over one shoulder. “Catch me if you can!”

  Kendra dashed away. Before her feet landed on the rug that triggered the automated door to the lobby, Dominic pulled her in his arms.


  Kendra yelped happily as he swept her up high, slung her over one shoulder, and marched to a dark private corner of the garage where he placed her back on her feet. They kissed and dueled for dominance, alternately backing one another against the wall.

  “Alpha Man, back on the case,” Kendra said.

  Dominic plucked her clutch from one hand, dropped it at their feet, and pinned her against the hard wall. “That’s right. I’m in total control.”

  “Not!” Kendra squirmed out of his embrace and pushed him flush against the wall.

  Another turn and she was against the wall. He captured her lips again as his hands tangled in her hair.

  Kendra was sure he’d let her wriggle free to shove him against the wall.

  “Damn, lady. You’ve got some muscle on you. Someone’s been eating her Wheaties.”

  “Actually, I’m partial to Captain Crunch.”

  “I find strong women incredibly sexy,” he whispered in her ear.

  “And I find strong men incredibly sexy.”

  “So you like it rough?”

  “It’s all fun and games until somebody gets a subdural hematoma.”

  “Ah, poaching terms from medical thrillers to talk dirty to me, eh?”

  “Yep.”

  “I’m taking this move from my own arsenal.” Dominic slipped one hand underneath her top and cupped one breast.

  Kendra arched her back, pressing her flesh against him. “But I don’t …(yes, right there) want everyone… in my business. Gossip takes off at… (yeah, just like that) these things. It can make its way all the way back…(don’t stop!)… to New York. We’re mauling each other in a place where we could easily get caught.”

  “Yeah, ain’t it exciting?”

  Kendra let him kiss and caress that room number right out of her. Light-headed and weak-kneed, she watched as he scooped up her clutch, placed it back in her hands, and draped her drooping wrap around her shoulders.

  With what must’ve been a goofy grin on her smooch-swollen lips, Kendra zigzagged through the lobby, still adjusting her clothing and smoothing her wild hair, but not giving one damn what other people thought.