“I never dump a lady off at night and simply drive away. I make sure she gets inside safely.” He held out his hand. “Where’s your key?”
His very statement reminded her of his vast experience with women. She clasped the house key to her chest. “Thanks. I can open my own door. Good night.”
In the dim porch light, he was big, tall, overwhelming. With the proximity, his scent washed over her senses, heating her, the tactile feel of his body imprinted between her legs, the slight roughness of his body hair along her thighs.
“You don’t want me to leave yet, Haley. There’s so many things we haven’t done.”
She shivered. They’d kissed, he’d licked her, she’d sucked him, they’d fucked. What else was there? She wasn’t stupid enough to ask aloud. “I’m tired, Simon. That was a quite a workout. Now I need my beauty sleep.”
He caressed her cheek with his knuckles. “You’re too beautiful for my sanity already.”
See? He had all the right words to charm a woman out of her panties, though, in this case, charm wasn’t necessary. She was naked under the skirt, her nipples clearly outlined beneath the thin shirt. His gaze dropped for a microsecond, noting the peaks coming to life. She eased around him, managed to fit the key to the lock. Opening the door, she pivoted on her heel in the entryway, one hand on the jamb. He had a booted foot on the sill so she couldn’t shut him out.
“Haley, don’t end the night like this. We need to talk about it. So you’re not all freaked out by tomorrow.”
She was already freaked out at how much she loved what they’d done.
“Haley, let me in,” he said softly, yet with a force of will that had her wanting to do anything he told her to.
She was weak. She stood on the threshold, wanting, needing. With one crook of his little finger, she’d buckle.
Simon didn’t use his little finger. Hands on her rib cage, he lifted her, carried her inside, slammed the door with his foot. She had a choice, but she threw her 236
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arms around his neck anyway. Resistance was futile. Raising her legs, she crooked her knees at his hips and locked her ankles behind him.
“This is the last time,” she murmured before he shoved her up against the wall and sealed her lips with a kiss.
Lord, the man could kiss. He devoured without being sloppy. He tasted and sucked and licked as if her mouth were a sweet treat. She moaned as he conquered her tongue. He ground his hot, hard cock between her legs, and she writhed. It hadn’t been an hour since they’d left the mountain house, but he was ready. So big, he engulfed her, his whole body, touching her here, there, everywhere. She couldn’t think. He made her not want to. She drowned in his minty taste, reveled in his earthy male scent, sipped and savored his mouth, his lips.
She had to pull back just to breathe, eyes closed, head against the wall.
“Simon.”
“Ride the wave with me, baby.” He lifted her higher, cupped her breast, flicking her nipple, teasing, pinching, then he bent his head to suck right through her T-shirt.
She cupped his head, sifting her fingers through his hair, her body poised on the brink. Laying her head back, she rode the wave exactly the way he wanted her to, drifting in sensation, no thinking, no worrying. His mouth on hers again, he slid his hands over her thighs and up her skirt as he braced her against the wall. Finding the warm, wet center of her, he played her in rhythm with his tongue between her lips. Her body shuddered. She gasped into his mouth. Lord, he had a way about him, knowing where to touch, for how long, how softly, how hard.
“Haley, Christ, baby, I need to be inside you.” His breath was warm against her neck. “Let me inside.” As he’d begged to enter her house, he begged to get inside her body.
“Yes.”
He didn’t even take her down off the wall. She wanted it like this. Elemental. The way she’d dreamed of him taking her since the moment he first lifted her in his arms against his office door. He kissed her again as she felt him reaching for his back pocket.
She held on with her arms and thighs as he ripped open the packet, leaned back, undid his belt and zipper.
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The man definitely had practice.
Haley gulped back the thought. Not now. Later. But not now. Rubber on, he eased the head of his cock past her opening, watching, a hand beneath her butt, balancing her on his strong, taut thighs. “You’re so fucking pretty. The most gorgeous pussy I’ve ever seen in my life.”
And he’d seen a lot.
Haley closed her eyes, shutting out the thought, opening her lids again when it was gone. “I love the way you talk while you have sex.”
He laughed. “Sex is not a thing to be done quietly.” He pushed home, and she cried out with the exquisite sensation. “See,” he murmured, “so much better when you make noise.”
She’d never been terribly vocal with Artie, and Simon was right, the louder she got, the more intense the feelings. She dug her fingernails into the firm muscles along the side of his neck as he rocked inside her. “Oh God, Simon.”
“G-spot?”
“Yes, yes.”
He was no wham-bam, taking his time, stoking her fire with words, touches, kisses, his voice. Lips on hers, he whispered, “Slow and easy over that special spot,” as he rode deep, pulled out, tipped his pelvis to slide at just the right angle.
“Simon.” She strained, arched, stretched.
“It’s fucking good, isn’t it.” He put his head back, gave a long sigh, pumped short and sharp in her channel. “Shit, fuck. You’re so perfect.” He leaned in again, face to her throat, and thrust hard, growling, groaning. “I need this. I so fucking need this, baby. Tell me you need it, too.”
Inside, she was molten liquid. “God, yes.”
“Say it.” His words heated her skin.
“I need you, Simon.” Not just this, the sex, the way he made her body feel, but him, the emotions he evoked.
He rocked hard, faster. “Put your finger on your clit.”
Clinging to his neck, she shoved her hand down between them, found her clit, swollen, sensitive, wet, and she rubbed. “Oh, oh.” That was all she could manage, heat and sensation bursting inside, outside, as his cock rode her Gspot.
“Come for me, baby.”
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She was so damn close, almost there. The wall was hard against her back, knocking her spine, but she didn’t care. She needed this from him, primal fucking like she was the only thing in the world that he wanted or needed. Ever. His breath came harsh, and she reveled in it. Dirty words fell from his lips, and she loved them. Her body craved him, sucked him deeper. She came apart from the inside, clinging to him, crying his name, convulsing around the hardness of his cock, and the throb of his release inside her. She was sure he shouted her name and other things she couldn’t understand, until orgasm shut out everything but the pulse of their bodies as they became one.
HOLY FUCKING HELL. SIMON CARRIED HER TO THE BEDROOM. SHE clung to him like a limpet, arms and legs wrapped around him, her head bobbing on his shoulder.
He’d never felt so replete. Or so complete. Yet he wanted her again, his cock surging to life inside her. Falling with her onto the bed, he rolled to the side so he wouldn’t crush her. His pocket held more condoms that he’d grabbed off the bed in the dungeon, and he was damn well going to use every one. By the time she woke in the morning, she’d be his. He’d give her so much pleasure, more than she’d ever known. She’d said she needed him. He wouldn’t let her get away.
“Let’s get undressed, baby.”
She mumbled, held him tighter.
“I want to make you come again.”
She muttered, clung to him. He’d always been wary of clingy women, but this, the way she wouldn’t let go . . . he craved it. He needed to ditch the condom, toss the clothes, pull back the covers, and kiss every inch of her naked body. All night long. All weekend. All his life. H
ALEY WOKE DELICIOUSLY SORE. HE’D MADE LOVE TO HER THREE more times in the night. She’d come so many times she’d lost count. She’d sucked him, licked him, kissed all of him until she could close her eyes and envisioned where each mole lay, each tiny scar, every sensitive spot that drove him crazy. He was still sleeping, his head buried beneath a pillow to block out the morning sun. He’d slept next to her, his leg against hers, but he hadn’t overheated her. Geez, the man didn’t even snore. The sheet pushed aside, half his long, lean body lay exposed. Even his ass was gorgeous and squeezable. He 239
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was too perfect.
How many beds had he woken up in?
Knowing Simon, not many. He’d leave soon after he’d shown a woman a good time.
So why had he stayed with her? She wasn’t stupid enough to believe “I need this” meant anything. He and Artie had been friends because they were both cut from the same cloth. They needed and wanted sex, it didn’t matter who it was with and they’d take it wherever they could get it. She sounded so damn bitter.
Pushing aside the covers, she climbed from the bed, her body achy in all the right places. Closing her eyes a moment, she thought about what he’d done to her. He’d truly turned her into his submissive, willing to take the crumbs he offered her.
Her breath hitched, her eyes prickled, and her temples ached. She was so very stupid. She’d always been attracted to him, but she’d known the kind of man he was. Artie made sure of that. She’d chosen Artie over him feeling they weren’t the same. She’d been wrong, and here she was making the same mistake all over again.
Yanking her robe from the hook on the back of the bathroom door, she wrapped herself in its warmth and softness. She considered locking herself in the bathroom until he left, but she had a feeling he wouldn’t go until they’d talked. He had an agenda. She didn’t know what. Maybe it was just sex, but why had he chosen her now?
So she padded down the hallway to the kitchen. She needed a mocha in the worst way.
She was tamping and didn’t hear him till he spoke. “I’ll do that.”
She jumped, spilling the coffee all over the counter. He’d pulled on his jeans and shirt, but left it unbuttoned to reveal a slice of his gorgeous torso. She couldn’t deal with him when he looked so damn . . . suckable, and the words spilled out of her as easily as the coffee had strewn across the granite counter.
“You need to leave now.”
“Haley—”
She held up a hand, cutting him off without even looking at him. “Please, Simon. I have no idea what you want from me, I’ve seen your lifestyle, and despite what we did with Christopher, I am not capable of it.”
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“My lifestyle?” he said with an edge. She glanced at him to find his eyes a dark stormy gray.
She gulped and rushed in. “Women. Lots of them. I had enough of that with Artie.” She pressed her lips together. “Live by the sword, die by the sword.” The way Artie had died using Simon’s bed to fuck another woman. His nostrils flared. “I am not Artie.” He tipped his head. “You don’t get what this is all about, do you.”
Oh, she got it. “Sex. But why did you have to pick me? We were going along fine without it.”
“We weren’t fine. You never forgave me for Artie. And you’re fucking blind to the fact that I’ve been in love with you for twelve years.”
She put her hand over her mouth. Stared at him, a jumble of emotions rioting through her. Then, God help her, she laughed. 241
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11
SHE LAUGHED AT HIM. “YOU DON’T EVEN KNOW WHAT LOVE IS, Simon.”
He wanted to be pissed. Here she stood in her perfect kitchen with sparkling counters and clean floor, oak cabinets and stainless refrigerator. He’d helped Artie do the work, hung the cabinets, added all the niceties she wanted such as roll-out shelves for her pots and pans, dual garbage containers for trash and recycle, corner cupboards with lazy Susans for the greatest utilization of space. He’d done it for her lovingly while Artie groused every step of the way. Yet she didn’t think him capable of love. She’d taken the beautiful thing they’d done last night and turned it to shit in the morning light. Admittedly, he’d never given her a reason to assume he had the capacity to love. He’d protected himself from his feelings for her by denying even to himself that he was capable of any strong emotion.
She held out her palms in a conciliatory gesture. “Don’t get me wrong, Simon, I don’t dislike you for it. That’s who you are. You could never have just one woman. You’re fine with that, but it’s not for me.”
She was still comparing him to Artie, and despite himself, anger rose again. “I love sex, and I always will. But if I commit, I don’t cheat.” He slashed a hand through the air. “I’m not like Artie.”
She turned back to the coffee as if she needed something to do. Or couldn’t look him in the eye. “Maybe it’s me then. I can’t trust anymore. I won’t go through every day worrying that I’m going to walk in to find you in bed with a woman. Or more than one woman.”
He pinched the bridge of his nose, stuffing his anger down. “I can’t deny that kinky sex and having multiple partners is a helluva lot of fun.”
She laughed harshly, not an ounce of humor. “Right. Our first time was with another man and you had me cuffed and spread.”
Goddammit. “You wanted that.” He realized it was a puny excuse. He’d tricked her into answering his ad, then used her secret desires against her to get what he wanted.
She gave up all pretense of making her mocha and turned to him, leaning back against the granite counter he’d helped Artie install. “I don’t know what I want anymore. You bowled me over.”
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He took advantage. “You’re right. I found your weak spot.” In addition to her G-spot. “I should have had the courage to tell you how I felt. So let me tell you.”
He wanted to step closer, touch her, even hold her while he whispered to her, but touching would be wrong, taking advantage again. “Sex won’t be good anymore without you. I can never enjoy it with another woman. You’ve spoiled me for the rest of womankind.”
She pursed her lips. Artie had complained bitterly about that look, yet Artie had always pushed her to it. “That’s too trite, Simon.”
Again, she was right. He’d never been good explaining his emotions. He’d never wanted to before. “I don’t mean it tritely. I can have sex with any woman, but I can’t make love unless it’s you. Plain old sex with someone who doesn’t matter isn’t going to be good enough for me anymore.”
Emotions flitted across her face. Doubt creased her brow, but there was also the tiniest glimmer of hope in her eyes. She wanted to believe. “A leopard doesn’t change his spots.”
“Maybe not.” He turned, running his hands through his hair in frustration, then flattened his palms along the edge of the center island. “But I’m a man, with the ability to change.” He’d done this to himself, sabotaged his own character in her eyes. “I should have fought Artie for you twelve years ago, but I wasn’t ready for you then. I wouldn’t have cheated on you, but I would have driven you mad pushing you to do all the kinky things I needed. That was a long time ago, and I’m a helluva lot older. I like women, but I need you. I don’t want to face the rest of my life without you.” He took a step toward her, braved reaching out a hand to cup the side of her face. “I surrender to you.” He purposefully used the words he’d written in the ad to lure her. “I am your slave. It was never the other way around.”
Haley let Simon touch her, but crossed her arms beneath her breasts. “I don’t want a slave, Simon. I want a man. Someone to help me shoulder the burdens. It isn’t just about sex. There’s so much more.” Artie had left her with a mountain of debt. All those credit cards she hadn’t known about. He’d accused her of being a nag, but in the end, he’d proven she had good reason. She lowered her voice, spoke with feeling, all t
he yearning she’d felt in her marriage. “Sometimes I need to be taken care of.”
Simon stroked a thumb beneath her eye as if to catch a tear that hadn’t fallen. “That’s what all those submissive ads were really about. The idea of 243
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someone making the decisions appealed to you.”
She drew in a shuddery breath. “Yes.” She stepped back. His touch confused her, made her want to turn her face into his hand, kiss his palm, give in to whatever he wanted. “All the fantasizing about bondage and letting someone else take care of me was just that, a fantasy. The truth is I can’t let a man have control. I can’t even share the responsibility in case I let myself get fooled all over again.” She couldn’t trust. She wouldn’t trust.
“Artie did a real number on you, didn’t he?” His eyes were sad. Maybe she’d done the number on herself. There was one thing she couldn’t allow to go on, though. “I blamed you for not telling me he was cheating. I was wrong about that. You’re not a liar or a cheat. I’m sorry for the things I accused you of. I can see what a bad position he put you in, smack in the middle between us. I realize you didn’t want to hurt me.”
He shook his head. “I didn’t tell because—” He stopped, grimaced, then held her with a look. “Because I wanted you so badly that telling you seemed like dirty pool. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t tell you, then let you cry on my shoulder, hoping that you’d turn to me for everything.”
He was an honorable man. He always had been. He didn’t fuck her then cheat on her or throw her aside. He let the supposedly better man have her. A man who then proceeded to screw her over, ruin her financially, cheat on her, and probably would have thrown her aside if he hadn’t died. How much of what Artie had told her about Simon and his women was true? How many of the antics he related actually happened? She’d believed, yet time revealed Artie to be the liar, the cheat. Maybe Artie had lied about Simon, too, to get her to chose him. She smiled, tears so close to the surface her lips trembled. “Our timing has sucked all along, hasn’t it?”
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