Turning Up the Heat (Friends With Benefits)

by Tanya Michaels

He laughed. Her personality was like her hair, so many different interwoven hues, from gentle shyness to bold passion to bright humor. His amusement took a backseat to arousal, though, when she raked her nails over his chest and the sensitive skin of his stomach. Then she reached for the sandalwood-scented bar of soap.

  “So I get to wash you anywhere I want?” Her voice was breathy, her whiskey-gold eyes focused on his dick.

  He nodded, fighting the urge to reach for her hand and place it on him. Patience. He didn’t want to rush her. Of course, in the meantime, he was quietly losing his mind and shaking with lust. But that didn’t seem to bother her. She took her sweet time lathering up a palm full of suds, then dropped her hand...to skate across his thighs, going out of her way to avoid the erection almost pulsing for her touch.

  He gritted his teeth. “Evil tease.”

  She smiled, looking delighted. “No one ever calls me evil.” As if in reward, she slid one finger along his shaft. Then she encircled him with her hand, and his head fell back against the cool marble of the wall, his hips flexing of their own accord. All too soon, she let go of him. “I can’t reach your back if you stand like that,” she chided.

  He growled low in his throat but obediently moved. It was almost too much of a turn-on to see her take charge to complain that she was no longer touching him. Almost. She did wash his back, turning it into a sensual massage that gradually reached his ass. She stroked loving circles across his glutes before reaching between his legs to cup his balls, scraping a fingernail over him. He hissed in his breath and whirled around, backing her into the corner.

  “Oh, dear.” Her eyes widened with mock alarm. “I pushed you too far. Or not far enough?”

  Her now-wet hair concealed much of her torso and when she grinned up at him with that mischief in her gaze, droplets of water decorating her skin in erotic constellations he wanted to trace with his lips, she looked like a debauched mermaid. My mermaid. Whomever Phoebe might decide to be with in the future, right at this moment, she belonged to him. He placed a hand on either side of her and leaned in to kiss her breathless.

  It was an uncivilized kiss. His tongue thrust deep, and their teeth clicked together. Far from complaining, she reached down and gripped him, her thumb running over the head of his cock and making him moan into her mouth. Eyes closed, he rocked into her wet, slippery hand while she squeezed, moving her fist up and down the length of him. Her touch was like lightning, sizzling him to a crisp, but he’d stand here forever as long as she kept...doing...that.

  His balls tightened, and his orgasm built and he surprised himself by giving in to a raw urge to push her hand away, turning her so that she faced the wall, pinned between the tile and his body. He nipped at her shoulder, his hands coming up to cup her breasts hard, and he rubbed himself against the lush curves of her ass. Then he came in a blinding rush across her silky skin, his bellow of satisfaction echoing in the marbled stall. Afterward, he rested his head atop hers and waited for the dark spots to clear from his vision.

  Phoebe was breathing as hard as he was. “Well. That was—”

  “Sticky?” He turned the showerhead to aim the hot water across her skin, washing her clean.

  “I was going to say, erotic as hell.” She smiled over her shoulder. “But your description’s accurate, too.”

  * * *

  IT WAS PROBABLY a blessing that Phoebe had ultimately decided to go curly tonight and not use her flatiron. The way she kept staring into space, replaying the past hour and a half with Heath, she’d probably burn off whole sections of her hair if she was trying to straighten it. Get it together, she ordered herself. She raised the tube of liquid liner toward her face and realized she was about to outline the same eye she’d already done.

  Good grief. One would think she’d never had an orgasm before—or, to be completely accurate, three.

  The two in bed had been followed by another when Heath had insisted on helping her dry off after the shower. Interestingly, his version of drying had left her very wet. The man had amazing fingers. Glancing at the knotted sash of her wrap dress, she could easily picture those fingers untying the sash after dinner. She should be too satisfied to feel aroused again, yet renewed anticipation coursed through her.

  Did Heath feel this same insatiable need? With his wealth of experience, she could understand if he was less dramatically affected than she was. Then again, in the shower... She shivered at the memory. He’d been almost primal with her, and she wasn’t used to inspiring that kind of passion. To have a man as sexy as Heath stare down at her with such intense hunger was downright intoxicating.

  She’d locked herself away in the bathroom to get ready so that she could surprise him with the finished look. If anything in her wardrobe would make a man insatiable for her, it was this ruched dress that was all red on her left side and white with the faint outline of red flowers on her right. The neckline crisscrossed over a brand-new push-up bra in a way that made her cleavage look like a contender for the eighth wonder of the world. The hemline mimicked the same crisscross, folding over her thighs and creating a provocative slit when she walked. Feeling inspired by the colorful vibe of Miami, she’d worn more dramatic makeup than usual, finishing off the look with high-heeled sandals Gwen had grudgingly let her borrow and bangle bracelets that provided a soundtrack for her movements.

  As she studied her reflection, her lips parted in a shimmery, bright red smile. “I think that’s officially as good as it’s going to get.” She reached for the doorknob and emerged from the bathroom. “Ready!”

  The remote control Heath had been using to flip through channels hit the ground with a thud. “Whoa.” His gaze traveled the length of her body and back to meet her eyes, slowing to appreciate his favorite spots on the return trip. “How am I going to concentrate on this restaurant I’m supposed to be evaluating when you look like that?”

  She smoothed her hand over the skirt and batted her eyelashes. “So I look all right?”

  Giving her a smile of blindingly wicked intent, he crooked his index finger. “Come closer and ask me that, Phoebe.”

  “Oh, no.” Giggling, she made a dash for the door. “We have reservations.” Not to mention Cam waiting for them in the lobby. She’d practically forgotten about him. Heath had a way of holding a woman’s entire focus.

  They got into the elevator with three men in suits, and she could feel one of them casting her surreptitious glances, his admiration obvious although he didn’t speak to her. The businessmen got off two floors before the lobby, and Heath laughed as soon as they were gone.

  “Poor bastard,” he said sympathetically. “Could he have been more obvious? Be careful how you wield your powers. This temptress makeover of yours is going to be rough on mere mortal men.”

  She smiled at the flattery, but at the same time, she couldn’t help contrasting his reaction to how she would have felt if they’d been in the elevator with an ogling woman. During their flight, she’d been irritated by the flight attendant’s clear attraction to Heath. Yet he wasn’t the tiniest bit jealous. “You’re not bothered that he liked what he saw?”

  “I’m proud of you. This is what you wanted, to become more seductive. I believe your exact wording was ‘va va voom.’” He gave her an assessing once-over. “Mission accomplished.”

  Right. His words were completely logical, in keeping with the objectives they’d agreed on. Why had she expected a different response? Just because she and Heath had shared a phenomenal afternoon didn’t mean he wanted to keep her for himself. That’s what a fling is, she reminded herself. Impermanent.

  I’m not upset. She just wasn’t experienced with this kind of affair and needed a moment to adjust her expectations. When the elevator reached the lobby, she hurriedly exited, trying to stay in front of Heath until she could marshal her expression into a more believable smile. Cam was waiting outside the elevator bank and his eyes widened as soon as he saw her.

  “Phoebe! You look incredible.” He took both her hands in
his, his expression approving. “Miami’s known to have some very exclusive clubs—places you can’t get into without being on the VIP list—but I swear there’s nowhere in the city that wouldn’t let you past the velvet ropes tonight.”

  “Thank you.” She found herself oddly glad that Cam was with them for the cab ride to the restaurant. She’d overreacted in the elevator, letting herself be disappointed by Heath’s pragmatic attitude, but that was just because she’d been so caught up in the passion of their afternoon together. Exchanging small talk with Cam gave her time to regain perspective.

  It was funny to think that, just two weeks ago, she’d been anxiety-ridden about having to face her ex at Bobbi’s party. He’d meant something different to her then. Now that more time had passed, she was able to enjoy friendly conversation with him, sharing the things they had in common without the emotional weight of worrying about their relationship.

  When the cab pulled up to the restaurant, there were already waiting diners clustered outside with glowing pagers to let them know when their tables were ready. A crowd was a good sign. Heath had told her there were two possible restaurants in the area that he and Cam might buy and rebrand. This was the first, a place that had been run by the same family for over twenty years. The owner wanted to retire, and neither of his grown children had interest in taking it over. Before Heath invested in it, he needed to check out what kind of crowd it drew, the neighborhood it was in, the parking available—all logistics that could make or break a restaurant. The other potential place they were considering was a restaurant that had gone under, which had the advantage of a much lower price point.

  “But then there’s the curse to consider,” Heath had told her on the plane today.

  If a restaurant made a bad first impression on patrons, it was difficult to overcome negative perceptions even with new management, complete refurbishment and a different menu. “I’m tempted to take it on just because I like a challenge,” he’d said, “but then I remembered that I like profits more.”

  Because Heath and Cam were in talks with the owners to take over this restaurant, Phoebe had no doubt that they could have made a special reservation and had a table waiting for them even on a packed Saturday night. But she wasn’t surprised when they gave her name to the hostess at the podium and didn’t mention who they were. Anonymity provided a chance to more accurately evaluate the service, offering Heath and Cam an idea of which members of the waitstaff they wanted to keep on and which might be put on notice. Phoebe knew firsthand that Heath was a loyal employer who helped keep the people working for him energized, but he expected hard work in return. He was cheerfully demanding.

  In bed, too, she thought with a grin. Even after she’d thought she was sated this afternoon, he’d pushed her further than she’d realized she could go. What would actual sex be like with that much intensity? She found herself staring at him while he talked to Cam about seating capacity and table configurations. When Heath’s gaze caught hers, he did a double take and she knew that part of what she was thinking must be visible on her face. Heat spread through her, but she didn’t glance away. Instead, she just smiled, eyes still locked with his. His comment about high-top tables not providing an intimate enough setting faltered, and he took a half step toward her.

  Cam frowned. “Everything okay?”

  “It’s warm in here,” Heath said. “I think I’ll grab us some drinks at the bar. Want a beer?”

  “Drinks sound good,” Cam said. “But I think I want to try their jalapeño mojito.”

  Nodding, Heath turned to Phoebe. But when she opened her mouth to ask for a glass of wine, he took her hand. “You can help me carry them,” he said tersely. Then he led her away. As soon as they’d rounded the corner into the small, dim hallway separating the bar from the main dining room, he captured her face in his hands, his mouth descending on hers, ravenous. Their tongues tangled together, and desire quickened in her abdomen, melting lower.

  He released her almost as quickly as he’d grabbed her, but even that brief kiss had been enough to leave her quivering for more.

  “Sorry.” He actually looked startled, which was rare for him. “Lost my head for a second.”

  Because of me. She grinned up at him, wanting him even more than before. He’d told her this afternoon that they shouldn’t have sex while they were in Miami—but he’d also assured her that mere mortal men wouldn’t be able to resist her. Phoebe wouldn’t call Heath “mere” anything, but his belief in her did give her hope. What kind of seductress would she be if she couldn’t coax Heath into changing his mind?

  * * *

  PERSONALLY, PHOEBE FOUND the candlelight a bit too dim—she liked to see what she was eating—but in general, she liked the restaurant’s ambience. And she obviously wasn’t alone. The place was doing a thriving Saturday-night business, making it difficult for their harried waitress to take care of all her tables. Heath had already observed that management didn’t have enough staff working the floor. The appetizers had come out in a fairly timely manner, but after that their server had disappeared. No one had brought them refills and the wait for food was beginning to stretch. Even with the appetizers to hold her over, Phoebe’s stomach was starting to rumble.

  She craned her head, scanning the crowd for their waitress. “I don’t mean to sound impatient, but it would be nice if she came back some time before July.”

  Across the table from her, Cam smiled, his eyes twinkling as he suggested, “Maybe she got fired halfway through her shift.”

  Phoebe laughed at his reference. “Oh, Lord. I’d forgotten all about that dive.”

  “I think I’m missing something,” Heath said.

  Cam leaned forward, resting his arms on the table. “After Phoebe and I had been dating for a few months, she had this brilliant idea that we should stop going to decent restaurants.” He put brilliant in air quotes.

  She shot him a mock glare. “What I said was that we weren’t very adventurous diners. So many of our friends are in the business that most places we ate, we knew the menu by heart before we even walked in the door. I suggested that maybe we should look for some hidden gems, less prestigious places that might surprise us.”

  “And I take it this dive you found was full of surprises?” Heath asked wryly.

  “The kind of surprises the health inspector should be made aware of,” Cam said, grimacing. “Phoebe’s chicken nachos should have been called the salmonella special. The chicken wasn’t cooked all the way through and she had to send it back. You know how softhearted she is—she never sends anything back.”

  “Then there was the margarita.” Phoebe shuddered at the memory. It had been like drinking paint thinner in a salt-rimmed glass. “After two sips, I sent that back, too. As the waitress walked away, Cam’s eyes bugged out. He told me he’d seen her down my entire drink. I honestly thought he was kidding.”

  Cam chuckled. “I told you I was dead serious. I don’t know exactly how long we had to wait for the check, but it felt like days. I finally tracked down the manager for an explanation. Turned out, our waitress was fired on the spot for chugging Phoebe’s margarita—but the guy who fired her didn’t have the good sense to ask another member of the staff to cover her section. So he had six tables of angry people waiting for bills or waiting for their food. To make up for the inconvenience, he insisted we order a free dessert even though all we wanted was to get the hell out of there.”

  “Since we had time to kill while they got our check figured out, and I was still starving,” Phoebe said, “I ordered the ice cream. I figured there was no way they could screw it up. Ten minutes later, the manager came to our table to say they’d run out.” She face palmed at the memory.

  “After that,” Cam said, “it was a very long time before I let her choose a restaurant again.”

  “Oh, like you never picked any flops,” Phoebe teased. “Don’t you remember—” Catching sight of Heath’s expression in her peripheral vision derailed her train of thought. Had ange
r flickered in his eyes? Probably just the candlelight. There was no way he was jealous over her reminiscing with Cam—he’d all but told her in the elevator that his goal was to help her win men over and that he wished her the best.

  Still, she supposed that rehashing old times with her ex somewhat excluded Heath from the conversation. She changed the subject. “So if you go with this place, have the two of you already talked about a brand?” She knew that they wanted to do something new and suited to the area, not a duplication of Piri.

  Cam nodded. “We think we’ve figured out something that matches the sultry nightlife vibe of the area—we just have to fine-tune the concept to make it upscale and not gimmicky.”

  Heath reached into his pocket for his wallet and pulled out a folded bar napkin that had the word Hot sketched on both sides in varying logos.

  “I like this more elegant-looking one,” she said, tapping the napkin. “The one in all caps with the exclamation point makes it sound like a strip club. It’s a little too Girls! Girls! Girls!”

  Heath laughed. “That’s pretty much what I said, too. I like the name Hot, though. Miami doesn’t seem like the place to be subtle. Cam and I are talking about focusing on spicy dishes of different heat levels—”

  “We should definitely keep the jalapeño mojito on the drink menu,” Cam said approvingly. He’d finished his second and had declared intentions to order a third. If their waitress ever found her way back to their table.

  Heath looked around with a critical eye. “I’d like to add seating options that are more intimate—some small horseshoe booths for couples to sit side by side, maybe—but tweak the lighting and decor to make it less cliché. Miami is fun and colorful. Romantic doesn’t have to be muted. We want sexy, bold touches that complement the bold menu options. And the headings could be written in a way that alludes to heat between couples.”

  “An appetizer section of First Impressions,” Cam added. “Or a dessert menu like Afterglow or Sweet Partings.” He looked a bit chagrined as he said this, as if thinking about the way he’d broken up with Phoebe and realizing it had been anything but sweet.