by Jan Irving
A smile tilted his perfect lips. If he’d caught her attention in two dimensions, it was nothing to the real man. The real young man, she reminded herself. He looked to be in his early twenties, and she definitely was not at thirty-five.
“Yeah, I know I kept you waiting. But waiting can be good.” He raised his brows as an expression that was part teasing and part earnest lit his eyes. “You gotta live in the present moment. Grab every second.”
“Ah…right.” Now she wasn’t imagining he was looking at her. She ducked her head, knowing with her curves she didn’t look as good as he did in shorts. More earth goddess than sports queen. “I brought the paperwork over.”
Sloan nodded. “Come on in,” he invited, opening the glass door of his studio for her.
She walked into what had previously been just bare brick walls, scarred from an incarnation as a sports retailer. The floors were halfway through a polish job, stripped down to sawdust and bleached maple so the scent of wood was strong and tangy.
“Nath has been doing the floors,” Sloan said, as if he’d noticed her interest.
“They were a mess,” she admitted.
In fact, she hadn’t been able to lease the space for months. She was glad she had finally managed it, despite her mild discomfort with the type of business that had taken the storefront.
When her father had given her the strip mall, she’d known he’d expected her to fail, but Diana had put a lot of extra time into it, determined to make it the basis for a stable income for herself and Jeff.
“Nath’s gone for lunch,” Sloan said, picking up a towel and wiping his face.
Diana studied the metal rails hanging across the ceiling and the heavy black bags suspended from them.
“I can’t imagine hitting something for fun,” she said.
“It’s liberating,” Sloan said. “It can give you confidence that spills into the rest of your life.”
She grazed a hand down one bag. “I’m not comfortable with aggression.”
Sloan’s expression was serene. He shrugged, and she got the feeling that while he didn’t agree with her, he was comfortable enough with himself that he didn’t need to argue about it.
His confidence was beginning to get to her. He was so young…he shouldn’t be so selfassured. She cleared her throat and opened her attaché case, sitting it on a bit of finished flooring since the room was bare of anything else.
Suddenly a pillow was thrust at her face and she froze before looking into intimidating dark eyes under straight, heavy brows. She took the lotus-shaped pillow, familiar to her from her yoga practice.
“Thank you,” she said.
“You’ll need help sitting down in those sky-scraper shoes,” Sloan said, cocking his head as his gaze ran down Diana’s long legs.
He shocked her by kneeling at her feet and placing one warm, calloused hand around her left ankle, running a finger under the rim of her ankle bracelet.
His touch bypassed politeness and zapped straight to her sex, making Diana gasp.
“Hey, I just want to take your shoes off,” Sloan said, stroking the slope of her foot.
“Oh, yeah, but I can—”
“Allow me.”
Flustered, Diana watched Sloan as he slowly unbuckled each of the three black straps on her sandal. When he gently pulled her foot free, he massaged the sole, and Diana gave a heartfelt groan, but damn, that felt good.
“Probably these shoes aren’t the best thing for your feet but they look very hot on you,” Sloan said.
He put down the liberated foot and reached for the other and, dazed, Diana allowed it, her hands on his bare shoulders for balance now, making direct contact with hot, sweaty skin.
Sloan took his time with the second sandal, caressing the underside of her foot and eliciting another moan. Her feet seemed to be directly wired into her pussy, so he might as well have been touching her intimately.
When he looked up at her, she realised he knew exactly what he was doing, the effect it was having on her.
“Sit down, Diana,” he ordered gruffly.
Bemused, Diana sat down, smoothing her short blue skirt so she didn’t flash him.
Sloan was within kissing distance as she passed him the paperwork she’d brought over. She scolded herself for noticing, but her feet—and other parts—were still tingling from the unexpected foot massage.
He reached into a pocket in his shorts and pulled out a pair of glasses, slipping them on. They were a dramatic contrast to his tangled hair and hard, glistening body. He looked up through the lenses, his eyes sober now, back to business.
“I want to put the lobby there, by the door, along with a console for handling payments from clients,” he said, gesturing towards the front of the empty studio.
“That shouldn’t be a problem,” Diana said. “You’ve done a lot of amazing renovations already.”
“Motivation is not a problem for me when I see what I want.” He looked up at Diana. “Are you the same, Diana?”
She’d been chewing on her pen, something she’d broken the habit of doing as a college student. “I am definitely motivated to see this strip mall do the best it can,” she said.
“I think everything here is in order, but I’ll want some time to look it over before I send it back to you.” Sloan put the paperwork aside and removed his glasses.
“Of course,” Diana agreed. She looked at her bare feet and her shoes, feeling awkward. The charged interlude was over and she had to put her shoes back on and retreat.
“Now that that’s done with…” Sloan’s voice was gravely. “You liked it when I touched you.”
Shocked again by Sloan’s confidence, Diana could only stare at him.
“It wasn’t an accident, where I touched you,” Sloan went on. “I used to give reflexology massage. I knew how to arouse you.”
She shook her head. “I don’t understand.”
“Yes, you do. Take a moment, just breathe…”
Now he reached out and stroked her arm as if he felt the sudden spike of her anxiety. But this couldn’t be happening. She’d seen him, she’d wanted him, but he was a fantasy. This couldn’t be happening…
“Breathe…”
He was closer, sharing her breath. She couldn’t stop studying his face, those slightly exotic, earnest eyes, holding her captive.
He cupped her cheek. “You made quite an impression on me.”
She laughed when she remembered seeing his poster and the look of bliss on his face—she’d pictured him making love. Oh, yeah, he’d also made an impression on her.
“I should go.”
“Don’t.”
“This isn’t me.”
“I think it’s very much you. Ground zero.”
He lifted her onto his lap, both her legs on either side of him, her body flush against his so she could feel the blunt shape of his erection through his tissue-thin shorts. Panting, she began to tremble. His hand felt hot on the silk of her skirt as he placed it on her ass.
“Easy,” he said, still with that assured manner. This was crazy. Why was she allowing him to do these things? She was always so guarded with men, peeking at them from behind her walls. “I can get you off, get you off like you’ve never had it before.”
“Uh.”
He moved his hands from her ass and up to her breasts. When he cupped her, her eyes fell closed and she sagged against him. She could count her heartbeat in the lips of her sex.
“But you have to do something first, Diana,” Sloan went on in that same hoarse, silky voice.
She blinked and then frowned. “What?”
“Ask me to please you,” he said.
“I…”
How could she? She’d just met the man. Now she was sitting on him and he was touching her.
He moved one hand down her body and under her skirt, lifting it as he held her gaze. He brushed his fingers against her underwear, found her damp, hot for him, a stranger.
“Sloan, I never do this—”
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br /> She caught his wrist, though the feel of that broad palm cupping her had her on edge.
“I know,” he said. “You mentioned you aren’t into aggression.” He cocked a brow. “Are you going to let me touch you?”
She swallowed, beyond saying yes. Giving him verbal permission would make this all too real, but when he began to drag his hand away from her, she caught it again, held it to her.
She licked her lips, wishing, and a second later she got her wish.
He kissed her, his lips covering hers, male, strong, taking deeply, so she moaned as he stroked her tongue delicately. He was so very controlled, like no one she’d ever met before, completely commanding her. When he squeezed her sex gently, she gasped again, shaking in his arms.
“You need to come, don’t you?” he asked in a mild tone.
Diana’s fingernails dug into Sloan’s arms and he laughed, pulling away to stare into her eyes. “I told you I can get you off, beautiful Diana, but only on my terms.”
“You’re too young for me. This isn’t real.”
“Isn’t it?” His hair fell over one brow as he leaned close, nuzzling her. She shivered hotly. Her body ground on his teasing hand.
“What…what are your terms?” Diana asked.
“Good girl,” he praised her. “I’m going to give you what you need. You’ll scream when you come for me.”
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About the Author
Jan Irving has worked in all kinds of creative fields, from painting silk to making porcelain ceramics, to interior design, but writing was always her passion. She feels you can’t fully understand characters until you follow their journey through a story world. Many kinds of worlds interest her, fantasy, historical, science fiction and suspense—but all have one thing in common, people finding a way to live together—in the most emotional and erotic fashion possible, of course!
Email: [email protected]
Jan loves to hear from readers. You can find her contact information, website and author biography at http://www.total-e-bound.com.
Also by Jan Irving
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Power Games: The Wizard’s Boy Men of Station 57: Forbidden Fire
Lightning Strikes: The Viking in my Bed Lightning Strikes: The Alien in my Kitchen
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