Felicity Stripped Bare

by Vanessa Jaye

  Dropping the purchases on the sofa first, she approached the partially closed bedroom door with his jeans. They were worn and faded to a pale blue, liberally splattered with paint, and torn at one knee. They also carried the faint scent that was, in her mind, uniquely Daniel’s. She resisted the urge to bury her nose in the fabric.

  “Okay I got them,” she called out in warning. “I’m going to pass them to you now.” Arm outstretched, she pushed the pants through the narrow opening and shook them like a treat.

  “Daniel? I’ve got your jeans. Daniel?”

  Maybe he was in the bathroom. She’d just leave them on the bed. Entering the room cautiously, she hesitated at the sight of the chocolate-brown leather jacket thrown down carelessly at the edge of the mattress, along with the ruined shirt on top of it.

  Felicity swallowed and hugged the jeans to her chest; there was a certain intimacy implied with the presence of his stuff in her bedroom. Then the significance of the heap of dark fabric on the floor registered.

  His pants.

  Felicity did the math: Daniel, minus his clothes, equaled…

  The bathroom door swung open.

  …Magnificent. To the nth degree.

  His chest was bared, broad shoulders tapering down to a trim, flat stomach that looked as if it were chiseled out of rock. Below that, wrapped low around his hips, he held a towel in a fisted grip.

  The edges of terry cloth came together like a carelessly drawn curtain between which her greedy eyes spied a glimpse of well-defined thigh. The whole of Daniel, chest, arms and legs, was dusted, like icing sugar on a cake, with fine golden hairs.

  It was only the random splotches of red across his chest and thighs that kept her drool fiesta in check. She stared at the shadowy edges of the towel where the angry markings on his legs disappeared. Was he okay?

  “Everything’s in working order. But I could use that ice.”

  Her blatant examination of him came to a halt. Embarrassed, Felicity shoved the jeans at him. “Here.”

  Daniel stepped forward. She stepped back. He stopped, raising an eyebrow, and held his hand out.

  “Sorry, here.” She stood her ground as he approached again and took the workpants from her.

  What did she think he was going to do, jump her bones? Standing around almost naked in front of her didn’t seem to faze him or, her eyes flicked below his waist as he adjusted the towel, affect him in any way.

  “Well, what are you waiting for? The ice? Today maybe.”

  Jerk.

  Felicity spun on her heel and strode from the room, heading for the kitchen. Jerkface, jerknoid, jerkaramus, jerkhole. See? She could stop friggin’ swearing.

  She pulled a clean tea towel from a drawer, then opened the freezer and took out a tray of ice. She slammed the tray down on the counter several times causing tiny slivers of ice to jump out spraying her face. When one piece almost flew into her eye, she stopped. Heart racing. What was happening here?

  She braced her arms on the counter, head bowed, and the memory of Daniel’s body shunted itself behind closed lids, crowding her brain. Felicity realized that it wasn’t really him she was angry at, it was herself for allowing him to get to her so badly and for her oh-so-obvious attraction to him. An attraction that he seemed to find amusing.

  She couldn’t stand the feeling of being the brunt of someone’s private joke. A joke she never got. It brought back too many ugly feelings from her childhood. “Hey Felici-tard.” That had been one of the favored names to torment her with. She swallowed and pushed those memories away. But other, more recent ones flew in to take their place.

  She remembered Daniel’s kiss, relived being in his arms; and what about those looks and the things he’d said? Her confusion increased. How could he just turn off and on that kind of heat? Was he like that with all women?

  Instant denial cramped in her gut, but she forced herself to face up to the truth. What made her think she was special? She’d never been before. Just because they had some chemistry didn’t mean a thing.

  She reached for a butter knife and stabbed at the ice cubes, wishing she could just as easily chip away at what she feared went deeper than physical attraction.

  Daniel blew out a breath. The expression on Felicity’s face had been part curiosity, part anticipation. The type of expression that inspired a man to satisfy both.

  He knew he’d been rude; the flash of anger in her eyes before she’d marched out of here confirmed it. But if he hadn’t been rude, he would have done something real stupid. And probably very satisfying.

  He sat down hard on the mattress/box-spring stacked on the floor. His gut clenched at the too easily imagined images that came to him. He ran a hand through his hair, grasped a handful and tugged slightly, trying to think straight for a minute.

  Daniel wanted her. Bad.

  The continuous din coming from the kitchen finally caused him to smile. Felicity seemed hell bent on pulverizing the ice into slush, no doubt as a poor substitute for his head. After a final loud bang followed by an almost unnatural silence, she appeared at the doorway holding a bundled tea-towel.

  “Sounds like you were causing some damage out there.”

  Felicity gave him a three-watt smile. “You can always deduct it from my rent deposit.”

  “From what I just heard, there’d be precious little of that left.”

  “Then you can take it out of my—”

  “Hey now, let’s be civilized.”

  Daniel took the ice pack from her, placing it on his lap. The cold brought welcome relief to the stinging warmth caused by the coffee. He scooped a few pieces of ice out of the bundle and rubbed the melting chips across his chest.

  “Oh, yeah. That’s the ticket.” He sighed, pleasure twisting through him, then inhaled sharply as frigid cold made contact with his nipple.

  From beneath lowered lids he studied the curve of Felicity’s hip and the delectable expanse of belly exposed by her low-slung pants and the shirt tied just above her waist. Her navel beckoned to him to explore it with his tongue and lips. But that would just be an initial foray. The real treasure lay further south.

  Steel threads of desire coiled in his gut, tighter and tighter. He told himself not to look up.

  But he did.

  She watched the water drip from between Daniel’s fingers, trailing beads of moisture over the hairs of his chest, and lower… Felicity couldn’t look away. She didn’t want to.

  He dropped the ice pack to the floor, held out his hand.

  “Come here.”

  She didn’t move.

  Warm eyes searched her own, then he captured her wrist in a wet, icy grip and pulled her closer.

  “Felicity.” It feathered out on a current of breath against her stomach, chased by the soft press of his lips and warm slip of his tongue.

  Everything happened so quickly it could have been a trick of her tangled senses. She went weak and braced herself on his shoulders, pressing the solid flesh beneath her hands. Daniel tilted his head back, his thick golden hair sweeping off his shoulders.

  “Closer,” he whispered as strong hands swept from her wrist to elbow, pressing down until she was brought to her knees, her waist pressed between muscular thighs. They were face to face. Mouths so close that temptation carried on the exhale and promise on the breath drawn in.

  He trailed slow hypnotic caresses up and down her arms before moving to her neck, stroking all the little hollows there. Felicity drew a shuddering breath. The truth of Daniel’s touch was that it burned and soothed at the same time. Made her heart feel as if it were being squeezed till every drop of emotion pooled at the tips of every nerve ending.

  With calloused fingers he cradled her face, tracing lips, cheeks, the curve of an eyebrow. A crooked smile tilted his mouth as he leaned forward.

  “Come on, close your eyes,” he murmured. When she did, he kissed her softly. The touch of their lips was magic, fairy dust, a dance of butterfly wings. Her eyes eased back open of their own
accord, seeking the confirmation that this wasn’t a dream.

  “Uh-uh, no peeking.” He pressed a gentle kiss to each lid, closing them under his sweet seal before returning to her mouth.

  She opened up under his delicious strokes, a moan escaping her. She needed more. Felicity dug her fingers into the hard muscles of his arms, her tongue sparring with his.

  “Felicity.” He said her name like a last prayer as her eager hands sought out more flesh to touch, more contours to discover. More of him.

  She ran her palms over the ticklish curls on his chest, her fingers performing a Braille reading of his taut stomach muscles, then her roaming touch was stopped. By hot steel draped in soft cotton.

  “Hmmm.” Her moan dripped with satisfaction as she wrapped her hand around his thickness, sliding down the rigid length. And Daniel’s groan vibrated back over her tongue, filling her mouth as his hand clamped down to trap her grip between the hard strength of his own and the pulsing heat of his cock.

  Daniel tore his mouth away from hers, cursing under his breath, depriving her of his drugging kisses. He was breathing heavily, his face hard and his gaze brittle, a man on the edge of breaking. Felicity was more than willing to push him over that edge.

  She leaned into him, seeking his mouth again, but he tightened his hold on her hair and his grip on her hand. Again their soft moans wove together, this time with the twisting threads of soft pain and sharp excitement.

  Dark color flushed Daniel’s face and his hips jerked up convulsively as breath hissed through his clenched teeth. He deliberately moved their hands together——slowly up, then down.

  And again.

  “Do you want this?” Hoarse desire riddled his voice.

  Like she’d never wanted anything else before.

  This time she initiated the caress.

  He stopped her partway, again tightening his hand over hers. A soft growl escaped him. “Are you sure?” he asked in a slow, dark whisper, unwinding her locks from his grasp. His fingertips scraped lightly against her scalp, sliding along her neck, down, until he held the weight of her breast in his palm. A shudder went through her.

  Felicity could have cried in frustration. Why was he asking her to think, when all she wanted to do right now was feel? Yes! She wanted this.

  She breathed in his scent, filling her lungs, pushing her flesh further into his hand. Her nipple pressed his palm, but the pressure wasn’t enough. She didn’t want to be teased. She wanted to be branded. Felicity stared at the naked need on his face, wanting everything he had to give her, right this minute. She didn’t want to think about afterwards.

  But, of course…now she did.

  Daniel watched the yearning in her gaze cloud over. She wanted him. But also she wanted more.

  Her hand slackened on his stiff, aching flesh and he grunted, his physical need still very real and unabated. With equal amounts of pain and regret, he let her go, stifling the urge to say words that would smooth the way for his body to be buried deep and hard and completely into hers.

  Felicity rocked back on her heels and rose. Daniel, holding her gaze, followed more slowly, the towel forgotten on the bed.

  Nothing more than air, a sliver of space, separated them, and his erection brushed lightly against her bare stomach. An exquisite touch of skin to skin that sent desire clawing through him.

  He saw her shiver, saw indecision darken her eyes, and his blood raced at the challenge. He could still change her mind, he could—

  “Maybe we should take it a bit slower,” she whispered. A trembling hand pushed the tumble of chestnut curls from her face. “Th-this thing between us is going a little too fast. And you’re right, I do need to think about—,” a quick inhalation before she rushed on, “—you know, other stuff.”

  What other stuff? Daniel was down to a couple of brain-cells. One was stamped “hard” and another “on”.

  But he was quickly coming out of his lust-filled fog, and alarm bells were ringing in the back of his mind where one lone in-case-of-emergency cell was still operational. She meant stuff as in relationship stuff. Definitely not the stuff he was hoping for.

  “Felicity, I…” He started then stopped. Her face was tight and suffused with color.

  Daniel couldn’t do it. He’d done it more times than he could remember, but he couldn’t find the words to set her straight on what he wanted, and more importantly, didn’t want, from her.

  He looked into her apprehensive eyes, and reached out to stroke her cheek, knowing his gesture would be misconstrued. Knowing he was digging a hole he’d have to get out of later. This was not the way he usually operated.

  That single brain cell rang a warning again. “Why is this so different?” It slipped out by mistake. The question wasn’t for her, but himself and Daniel was confident he would figure it out in time. Hopefully before horniness drove him insane.

  Felicity blushed more fiercely. “It’s never been like this with anyone else—”

  “Shhh.” He pressed a finger against her mouth. He didn’t need to hear her say that to him right now. Not when he had so little control over his baser instincts. It was just the sort of thing to make him ignore his conscience because it was exactly what he wanted to hear. He wanted all her little sighs and caresses, all uniquely, all selfishly, all for him alone.

  “I’m not…easy.”

  “I didn’t think you were.” He forced a slight smile and moved his hands to her shoulder, mechanically massaging the tense muscles there. “Now why don’t you let me get dressed, because not only am I very easy, I’m also still pretty hard.”

  Her eyes dropped to his raging hard-on. “Oh! Okay, I’ll just leave you to, er, deal with that.” She flashed him an uncertain smile and left the room.

  He sat on the bed again, his cock slapped up against his belly with no intention of being dealt with except by the person who’d just exited the room.

  Daniel pressed the heels of his palms to his closed eyes, feeling like the biggest asshole. He’d timed his seduction like a shmuck. The burning sensation in his gut grew hot enough for him to understand it for what it was. He wasn’t angry, he was disgusted. With himself.

  Because even though he recognized her vulnerability, he knew he was perfectly capable of exploiting to it.

  And he was perfectly willing to do so.

  Because he still wanted her.

  Daniel swore viciously and grabbed the melting bundle of ice from the floor, then went into the bathroom where he dumped the contents in the sink. Back in the bedroom, he dressed quickly.

  He tried again to work out the puzzle that was Felicity. She was passionate and beautiful. She was also mouthy, prickly and annoying. He picked up his stained clothing and as he shrugged into his jacket, Daniel looked around the room—there were no framed photos of friends, boyfriend or family. In fact he couldn’t remember seeing any photos in the entire flat.

  He walked out to the living room. Felicity wasn’t there, but through the kitchen window he spied her, her back to him, out on the balcony. She turned as he pushed the screen door open.

  “So…” She smiled brightly and rubbed her hands on her thighs.

  He opened his mouth to say what he had to and get it over with, but Daniel swallowed his words. He found her happiness irresistible, her shyness endearing. He wasn’t used to these feelings.

  “Is something wrong?” Her smile began to melt away.

  “No,” he lied. “I was just trying to figure out…” What? “When we should visit the jobsite.” He grasped at the excuse. “You still want to see the work, right?”

  She took a deep breath, nodding, and smiled.

  “I’ll have to see how my schedule is, but I’ll call you, okay?” The words slid stiffly out of his mouth.

  “Okay,” she repeated softly.

  Daniel wanted out of here before he dug himself any deeper, but instead he crossed to her and pressed his mouth briefly to her forehead.

  He left then, and it was only when he was safely i
n the truck that he remembered about the shower. He’d send Rob over to deal with it tomorrow. If his buddy had taken care of it in the first place, he wouldn’t be in this mess. At least that’s what he told himself.

  Chapter Five

  Felicity was a block away from the transit stop when her ride came cruising down St. Clair Ave. Panic set in and she started running but the streetcar just motored through a green light and past the empty transit shelter. Another streetcar wouldn’t be by for another ten minutes.

  She cursed under her breath. Swearing didn’t count if it was inaudible. She was debating whether or not she afford to splurge on a taxi when someone goosed her from behind, scaring the shit—er, crap, out of her. Felicity whipped around, hand clutched to her heart.

  “Hey good-looking, looking for me?”

  “Stuart.” Her ex of six months and counting. “That would involve turning over a rock. So, no.”

  “Awhh, why’re you hating?” He bent his lanky frame to peer into her face. His boyish smile, punctuated by two dimples, caused a too-familiar ticklish feeling in Felicity’s chest.

  He wore his shirt open and his jeans low, all the better to expose a tanned six pack. Dressed head to toe in black, with his short brown hair highlighted and expertly tousled, and heavy silver hoops in each ear, he looked the part of a successful DJ/promoter.

  The type that drew a lot of female attention.

  The type that liked to act on that attention.

  Come to think of it, add a long tail and some whiskers and he’d also look like the rat he was. She shook off his arm. “Where’s Valerie?”

  “How should I know?” A petulant scowl marred his model looks. “I thought that drama was over, Fil.”

  “It is over. And so are we.” She poked him, then seeing a thread of his expensive shirt snag on her ragged nail, poked him again.

  He grabbed her finger. “Can’t keep your hands off of me can you?” The arm landed around her shoulders again. It felt far too at home there. She twisted away.