“I’m making dinner. Are you staying?” He stood and offered her a hand up. His grip was firm and warm. Enticing, in a way she refused to linger on.
She pulled away as soon as she had her footing. It was tempting to tease him about macaroni and cheese not being a real meal, but she saw the ingredients he bought—noodles, cream, mushrooms, and more. While she wasn’t sure what he was going to make, it was fancier than pre-packaged. “I’d like that. Let me clean up a little bit first, and I’ll be right down.”
In the bathroom, the cool water poured over her hands and wrists, chasing the heat away but not erasing the invisible imprints of Jonathan’s touches. She splashed her face and scrubbed at the dirt smudges. She was a mess.
“Ale?” His voice carried up the stairs.
The nickname made her growl when anyone in town used it. Coming from him, it drew a smile without her permission. “Yeah?”
“Where’s the steak?”
“There was no steak.” She dried herself off and made her way downstairs. She found him on his knees near the front door, peering under the couch.
“Fuck.” He reached for something, and seconds later pulled out a paper-wrapped bundle. One corner looked chewed on. “I guess I should be grateful that damned cat can’t fit under there.”
That must be the missing meat. “I didn’t see it.”
“I figured you didn’t leave it down there on purpose.” He smiled. He peeled the paper, sniffed, studied the contents for a moment, and then shook his head. “It might still be good, but I’m not willing to risk it in this heat and humidity. I don’t think I can make beef Stroganoff without the beef.”
Her stomach grumbled, reminding her she skipped lunch in her fit of irritation. She could offer up the cold cuts in the fridge, but what he was making sounded a lot better. “I have hamburger at home. It’s not quite the same, but the rain stopped. We could walk over there.”
“Leave the ghosts of the past behind for now?”
He’d still be there. And she only owned the property because she got it in the divorce. She was worn out from shoving memories aside. “There are still ghosts. They’re just different ones.”
“I’ll take that. Besides, dinner at Bailey’s house was always one of my favorite parts of summer.”
Chapter Six
Jonathan was struggling. In the last day, he’d met three different versions of Bailey. The girl he hung out with in the summer—best friend, confidant, and link to sanity when his home life was falling apart—was the image he wanted to cling to and kept reinforcing it in his mind. Then there was the eighteen-year-old, who told him in no uncertain terms that she never wanted to see him again and hoped he rotted in whatever Godless hell he ended up in. He was doing the best he knew how, to keep from summoning her, and failing about half the time.
And on rare occasion, the woman Bailey was now shone through. Laughing. Witty. And God-damn fuckable.
She walked a few feet ahead, facing him, rarely looking behind her, to check her step. The warm breeze whipped her hair around her face, no matter how many times she tried to tuck the loose strands away. “The little boy thinks about Dad’s answer for a minute, then says, Dad, I think the UPS guy wants to buy mom.” As she told her joke, the corners of her mouth tugged up in a barely suppressed smile.
Even if the punchline didn’t get him, her laugh would have been infectious. “Okay, I yield.” He held up his hands in false surrender. “Auctioneers can be funny too.”
“Told you so.”
“Do you do most of your business in Miami?” he asked.
She screwed her face into a sour expression. “When I have to, but Atlanta’s my standard destination.”
That was a twelve- to thirteen-hour drive. “Are the auction houses better up there?”
“Eh... Yes. No. I guess? What about you? What’s L.A. like?”
“Back up. What’s Atlanta got over Miami?”
“Nothing. Personal preference. Don’t worry about it.”
“It’s almost like you want me to ask.” He never would have questioned it, if she wasn’t so quick to change the subject. The sharp tang of the ocean lingered in the air, reminding him this was only a break in the rain; it wasn’t done yet. With the orange glow of the setting sun behind Bailey, he was treated to a stunning view.
“It’s a lot of things.” She whirled away from him and slowed her pace until they walked side by side. “The people are different up there. I have more solid contacts. I like the big-city feeling. The clubs are better.”
“You go dancing?”
“Dancing. Picking up guys I’ll never see again.”
That image wasn’t going to leave him alone anytime soon. Bailey swaying to the music. Grinding. Flushed. Lost in the beat. “What?”
“You heard me.” She glanced sideways, a smirk on her full lips.
Fucking hell. A wave of possessiveness washed through him, but it was tempered by fantasy. Picturing himself as the random guy she teased. Feeling her up on the dance floor. Finding a dark corner and making her squirm. His cock strained against his jeans, and he tried to be subtle about adjusting himself. “I like the sound of it. I wanted to see if you’d repeat it.” Not the way to dial the conversation back.
Her playful sideways glance said she didn’t mind. “One-night stands. I hit up a club, find an anonymous guy, get laid, and go our separate ways.”
“So wicked.” He tried to push the images out of his mind with his exhale. It didn’t work.
“You disapprove.”
“Not that my opinion of your free time matters, but no. I like it.”
“Now who’s wicked?”
A drop of rain hit his nose, and another his cheek and arm. The warm rain didn’t ease the heat flowing over his body. “You don’t get an exclusive claim on naughty.”
“Which is good. Imagine how dull life would be if I were the only one.” She peeked up at him through her eyelashes. “What about you?”
“What about me?”
“You’re no stranger to the casual hookup.” The sky opened up and dumped down sheets of water, soaking them both in seconds. She closed her eyes and turned her face up.
He refused to let the sudden rain and the past it summoned rattle him, despite the way it threatened to steal his good mood. She was a much better focal point. He wasn’t sure which captivated him more—her awe or the way her wet top accentuated every inch of her torso, down to the perky nipples. He forced his attention back to her face. Definitely her awe.
“Will you think less of me if I tell you I’ve never sought it out?” he asked, though for the first time in a long time, he was considering a one-night stand.
“Too busy working?” She quirked her mouth in amusement.
He had the occasional girlfriend, but they never cared for his schedule, and it’d been years since he had time to go on the prowl. “Guilty as charged. At least one of us is getting laid.”
“That’s one way to look at it.” She laughed.
They reached her front porch, and the awning took the storm from them. She unlocked the house and let them in. “Wait here. I’ll go grab some towels.”
A small square of tiles sat inside the door, with a mat on it. He did his best to keep the water from dripping on the carpet, and watched her ass until she vanished into another room of the ranch-style house.
She returned seconds later and threw him a fluffy towel. “Catch.”
“Thanks.” He wiped away the excess water, but only took his gaze from her to dry his face.
She tossed her head forward to dry her hair, and he caught a glimpse of a purple glare peeking above her tank top. He traced his fingers over the bruise. “What happened?”
A soft groan escaped her throat, and she leaned back into his touch. “The crash you heard earlier? Hit me in the back.”
“Looks nasty.” He trailed his touch down her soft skin, as he pulled more of the shirt back. “You should ice it.” With each new contact, her sighs drilled deeper i
nside, jolting his senses, and tugging at his cock. Damn it, he wanted her.
“I’ll be fine. Do you want the shower first?” She spun to face him.
He rested a palm on her cheek, forcing her gaze to his. Reason argued this was a bad idea. Fuck reason. It was only for one night. Neither of them had illusions to the contrary. “Or we could share.”
She laughed but cut it short and caught her bottom lip between her teeth. He drew his thumb along her mouth, tugging her lip loose. So fucking alluring. Every inch of him begged him to dip his head and capture her mouth.
BAILEY THOUGHT JONATHAN was joking, until she took a second look. The want in his eyes. The tension vibrating through his grip, despite his gentle touch. She was used to being the hunter. This was different. And dangerously tantalizing. “To save water? Is this a conservation thing?” It took more effort than she expected, to keep the joke in her words.
“If that’s what you want to call it.” Each time he dragged his thumb across her skin, sparks sped through her thoughts, erasing reason.
“What would you call it?” she asked.
He stood so close, she was surprised the fire burning between them didn’t turn the water on their clothes into steam. “Sating a desire. Quenching a thirst. Making up for lost time. I’m not too picky about terminology, as long as it involves me stripping you down and exploring your body.”
“I don’t...” She couldn’t finish the protest. Her body tingled in anticipation. If she leaned closer, their lips would meet. She’d feel his hard body against hers. Desire spilled inside. This was the biggest mistake she could possibly make right now. Bits of her still cared about him; the parts she tried to ignore since he showed up yesterday meant this wasn’t meaningless for her. But he wasn’t looking at it that way. He hadn’t shown any interest beyond staring, until she brought up the one-night stands. This was only sex for him.
“Don’t what? Don’t want to get involved? You said it yourself last night—I’m leaving in a few days. This isn’t a long-term agreement. Or maybe you’re implying you don’t do one-night stands. I was listening, and that’s not true. You don’t think you’re interested? I’ll reference last night again.” He stepped back, hands up, putting a few inches between them. “Though you may have changed your mind.”
His logic confirmed her suspicions. This was a physical encounter, nothing more. But freaking hell, she wanted him close again. Wanted another kiss like last night’s, but with the power of sobriety behind it. Wanted to know what he felt like. She was willing to bandage her heart later if it meant having him now. “I don’t think the shower is the best place for something like that.”
He chuckled as he rested his palm on the base of her neck, to pull her closer. “It’s a starting point.” He kissed her hard, holding her head captive and claiming her mouth. His tongue danced out to meet hers, probing and hungry. The scent of rain lingered on his skin, mixing with the faint musk of his cologne and teasing her thoughts.
Summoning the brain power to form words, she broke the kiss. She almost dove back in when he frowned, a question heavy in his dark eyes. “Bathroom’s this way,” she said. When she grabbed his hand, his warm grip sent a rush of desire pulsing through her. “Shower?”
“Right. Getting clean. That’s what we’re doing.” The moment they were in the small room, he pressed his lips to hers again. Nipping became a consuming crush of skin against skin.
She needed to feel more. When she tugged at the bottom of his shirt, wet fabric slid against her palms, teasing and tempting.
He broke away, to let her pull the clothing off and toss it aside. “Impatient?” he asked, diving back to her lips as soon as the path was clear, then kissing along her jaw and down her neck. He moved his hands to her waist, under her top and against her bare skin. The heat of his grip obliterated clammy chill.
She tilted her head with a sigh. Every kiss, nibble, and touch drew her further into the invisible bubble around them. The one cutting them off from reality. “We have to get out of the wet clothes. Otherwise we’ll catch something.”
“Hmm...” His lips vibrated against the hollow of her throat. “Practical. I like that.” In a fluid motion, he yanked her shirt over her head, then pulled her to him again. His bare chest against her body seared through all of her.
She reached back, to unhook her bra, and let it fall into the growing pile of clothes. The humid air on her bare skin soothed already-hard nipples. He cupped her breasts, chasing away the cold. “You need to be warmed up.” A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.
“What did you have in mind?”
He kneaded one breast, and the numbness of cold rapidly evaporated. He lowered his head and took the other nipple in his mouth. Arousal sparked through her, growing when he sucked hard on the swollen nub. She squeezed her thighs together, but it didn’t quench the growing throb between her legs.
When he broke away, disappointment welled inside Bailey. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing at all.” He kissed her lower lip before spinning away to turn on the shower. “It’ll be warmer in there.”
“Of course.” She wasn’t sure she cared, as long as she could press against him again. They shed the rest of their clothing. She looked down the length of his body, memorizing every line of definition, from his strong chest to the fine trail of blond hair leading down his stomach, to an impressive... asset. She forced her gaze back up, to find him studying her with as much intensity as she’d directed at him. She liked that look.
He shook his head and prompted her to join him in the tub and under the hot stream of water. With a twist, he positioned her to face away from him. He trailed his lips up her back, along the shoulder blades. “I’m still worried about this bruise.”
“I’m fine.” His concern sank into her senses as deeply as his touch, mingling and amplifying everything. If he’d done this thirteen years ago, instead of leaving... She shook the thought aside. The past was her mistake. She couldn’t blame him. Besides, this was temporary, as it should be.
“I still think we should keep the pressure off it.” He danced his fingers over the tender skin, and then pulled her close, so her back rested against his chest. “We’ll have to be gentle.” He reached around her to grab the body wash and squirted a dollop in his hand.
Her anticipation spiked, turning her body into a quivering wire, waiting for the right contact in order to find release. “I don’t really do gentle.”
“Only with your back.” He settled his palms against her stomach. The shock of the cold soap quickly vanished. He found her nipples again and pinched hard, drawing a groan and sent a pulse straight to her core. The sharp cherry of the soap mingled with hints of pain, chasing away the exhaustion of the long day. Each time he tugged and tweaked, she ground into him. His cock dug into her ass. She tried to face him, wanting something to grip and needing an outlet for the pleasure filling her.
He held her firm. “Not yet. We’re getting clean.”
The slippery desire between her thighs disagreed. “Is that what this is?” she asked.
“Mhm.” He slipped his hands along her body with the help of the body wash, gliding over her stomach, along her butt cheeks, down her legs, and then back up. He drew close to her aching sex but never met it. By the time he stood again and circled her waist with one arm, she was ready to burst, hovering at the edge of climax, her body pleading to be pushed over. She heard the click of plastic on plastic, and seconds later, the cascade of water hit her from a new angle. He’d removed the showerhead, to rinse the soap away.
The slow, teasing seduction was sweet. Pleasant. A type of attention she could get addicted to if she wasn’t careful. She wanted rough, fast, and desperate. A frozen moment in time to cling to and then let vanish when it was over. She was barely aware of her hand creeping down her stomach, seeking a way to offer release.
“No touching.” A growl cut through his words. He grabbed her wandering wrist tight enough that she sucked a sharp breath of surprise
through her teeth.
That was about billion times more intoxicating than the gentle. The sting of his fingers digging into her skin amplified the heavy tension humming inside. “Please?” She didn’t mean for the whimper to slip out, but it was too late to take it back. She heard the clack of the shower nozzle returning to its home.
His chuckle was haunting and tantalizing. “Please, what?”
“Finger me. Fuck me. Stop teasing, and let me come.”
“I like the way that sounds.” He captured her free arm too, and held both behind her back with one hand.
Before she could decide if she wanted to twist free, he dipped his fingers between her legs. The sensual seduction was gone. He focused on her clit, stroking the swollen bud. A spasm spilled through her at the contact, and her legs wobbled. This wasn’t the gentle touch he covered her with moments earlier. He pushed hard and stroked the sensitive button, changing his pace as her cries grew more frantic and punctuated. Climax swelled inside and tumbled her into light-headed euphoria. She thrust against his hand, until his touch became too much. When she shuddered from his touch, he eased up but didn’t pull away. Instead, he grabbed the shower head again and glided his fingers along her slit, rinsing and applying enough pressure to keep her thoughts muddled and her body humming, without it being too much.
It was fortunate this was a one-time thing. She’d get hooked fast on playtime like this. As long as she pushed him away at the end of the night though, it wouldn’t be a problem.
Chapter Seven
Jonathan didn’t know the last time he’d been so hard. His dick ached from holding back. Bailey insisted he had to be clean too, and every time she slid her hand along his shaft, he had to stop her so he didn’t come. They finished the shower and toweled off.
She draped her arms around his neck, molded her body to his, and shifted her weight to torment him. “If the shower is just a starting point, what now?” she asked.
The Second Chance and The Auctioneer (The Love Equation, #3) Page 5