by Alison Kent
She squeezed her eyes shut. “Is this better?”
“No. It’s not.” He waited a few seconds. “Uh, Macy?”
“Go ahead. Have your way with me,” she said from behind closed eyes.
“I plan to,” he answered, and she shivered beneath him. “But I’m not moving a muscle until you open your eyes.”
“You’re going to get awfully tired of being on your hands and knees like that.” His hands were wedged beneath her arms tied to the headboard. His knees rested between her thighs.
He leaned down and blew a stream of warm breath from her ear to her jawline and down her neck, then retraced the same path with the gently teasing tip of his tongue. “My game, Macy. My rules. You don’t open your eyes, we don’t play.”
Ripples of arousing expectation left her breathless. She shuddered because she couldn’t help herself. His words and his tongue and his demanding expectations made for a maddening male temptation.
She opened one eye.
He was waiting; looking down at her and waiting. “The other one, too.”
She opened it. “Happy now?”
A wicked grin lifted the corners of his mouth. “A man always likes a woman who follows directions.”
I’ll follow you anywhere, she wanted to say, but managed to hold her tongue. “Now what?”
“Now I show you how I like to play.”
“You shredded a sheet for that?”
“I had to be sure I had your attention. I want you here with me. I didn’t want you walking away.”
He wanted her with him. Did he mean now? For the moment? In this bed that belonged to neither of them? Or did he want to make their confidential liaison public? And permanent?
She made an attempt to lift both arms, then legs. “You made your point. I’m not going anywhere.”
“Good,” he said, and sat back on his heels. He took hold of both her ankles and slid her feet up the bed, toward her hips, bending her knees until he hit the end of her tether.
With the loose strips of sheet, one in each hand, he wrapped her thighs like barber poles, leaving much of her legs bared to his intentions, leaving his intentions in question. He had yet to move the sections of sheet draped front and center.
His smile should have scared her senseless and did—that arrogant way he had of smiling with his eyes, leaving his mouth free to speak, to tease. Or to do as he was now doing—running his tongue over the strips of inner thigh left exposed, slicking over the barest edges of the swollen folds of her sex.
If she’d been wearing any panties, by now she’d be in need of a refresher pair. Leo’s mouth mated with her skin, one leg then the other, never quite making contact where she wanted contact, skirting the center of her body with his tongue, which swirled and flicked and licked her flesh with long hard strokes, his lips drawing, sucking….
Yes, yes. That was what she wanted. Just like that, there, closer, closer, please and deeper, yes, that’s it, yes, right there, oh, right there. He followed her mental directions, and she worked to scoot her hips closer and lift them to better his access. She wanted to hold his head, to pull him closer, but her hands were tied and, damn it, she whimpered.
Leo looked up then, his eyes brightly wicked and amused. “Having fun yet?”
“Beyond bearable belief,” she admitted, because she no longer wished to hold back sensation or her enjoyment of this man’s magic.
“Good. Then my job here is done.”
Macy wanted to beat him to a pulp. She wanted to scream. She wanted to come. Repeatedly. They had the time. Why was he making her wait? “You quit now and you’re fired.”
“Hmm. I’ve never been fired from this position.” He cut off her claim of a first time for everything and stripped away the sheet from the top half of her body. Then he lowered his entire length and just enough of his weight to make her appreciate both his size and his restraint.
But he didn’t do anything else. He just looked down into her face. His elbows, braced above her shoulders, supported most of his weight. His erection teased her, resting between her thighs with a patience Macy hated him for.
“If this is your idea of play, I have to say I’m not terribly impressed.”
“Then let me impress you.” He released the bonds holding one of her wrists and guided her hand between their bodies to wrap around his thick length. He kept his fingers around hers, stroking his sex within their joined grip. His release of lubricating fluid enhanced the motion, making for a slick simulation of what was to come.
Macy let him control the pressure, the speed, and refused to move her eyes. His face was a study in male arousal, his eyes brightly dazed, his lips parted, his breathing heavy and rough, tortured from his chest pressed hard to one side of hers.
“Okay. I’m sufficiently impressed.”
He shook his head. “No. You need further impressing.”
“Impress me by cutting me loose.” She wanted to get her hands on his body, to wrap her legs around his hips and guide him. Not that he needed direction. But the bonds were making her crazy. “Leo, please?”
He thrust hard into her hand. “Please what?”
“Please untie my other hand.”
“You’re doing just fine with the one.” He barely managed to spit out the words before he buried his face in her neck and groaned, a deep sound that had to come all the way from between his legs because she felt the rumble in the palm of her hand.
And then, his head still tucked in the crook of her neck, Leo moved his free hand down the side of the bed, jerked at her bonds and let her go.
She pulled free and moved both hands to his backside with no care to conceal her desperation. She tugged, insisting he resettle his lower body between her legs, where she scuttled beneath him and used her guiding hands to direct him, one pressing him from behind, one between their bodies again.
She wanted him and she wanted him now and she wasn’t going to wait and she didn’t give a flip how hard he was working for control because she wasn’t going to last long enough for control to matter. Her body was ready, wet, wanting and wildly on edge. The restraints holding her ankles heightened the tension that had her chest aching as she strained to draw a full breath.
Chuckling, he filled her until she had no more room to fill. She blew, panted, struggled to find the calm before the storm. “Why are you laughing?”
“Because it’s about damn time.”
“What do you mean, about damn time? You were the one making me wait.”
“Only until I was sure you were ready.”
“I’ve been ready forever and you know it.” I’ve been ready for you all of my life.
“I was waiting for you to show me.” And then he raised up on his elbows and cradled her head in his palms and refused to release her gaze as he began to move, driving slowly forward, backing away, pushing deep and reaching the mouth of her womb.
Oh. Oh. The first wave of shudders were cresting. She rapidly panted to hold them back. “How much more of a show do you want?”
“Fourth of July?” he growled, took a shaky breath, and added, “New Year’s Eve?”
She caught him deep inside, caught her voice before it cracked, caught the air her lungs desperately needed. He was glorious. He was hard and he filled her to bursting and he knew exactly where to press and where to stroke and how best to unmercifully tease.
“So, you want fireworks?”
“I want your fireworks.”
She couldn’t deny him a thing.
WHEN THE LOFT’S ELEVATOR ground to a stop and the door creaked and groaned open, Macy had just decided to invite Leo to cross the threshold into her room, to sleep in her bed for the rest of the night.
But one step into the loft, with Macy close behind, Leo nearly tripped over the suitcases in the entryway, disturbing a distraught Lauren, who’d curled into a ball on the sofa. He blew out a long breath and stared at his feet, one hand at his hip, while the other ushered Macy past him and into the room.
; She caught the barest glimpse of his expression in the dim light coming through the balcony doors. But it was enough. Oh, yes, it was enough. Frustration. Resentment. Annoyance. Regret. It was all there.
She didn’t need a degree in psychology to know the camel’s back had cracked beneath this latest disruption of what little routine Leo had realized here in never-never land.
It was all too much, this manic panic world of hers, and she withdrew her invitation because she knew. She knew. In her heart of hearts, she knew.
Leo was ready to go.
12
“MACY?” Lauren sang out from the loft’s main room. “I’m sorry. I really didn’t mean to run him off.”
“Hey, who’s my roommate anyway, huh?” Macy called back from where she stood in the kitchen, freezer door open, mocha-java swirl in one hand, chocolate–chocolate chip in the other, wondering whether one flavor would provide more seratonin-induced euphoria than the other.
Wondering, as well, if the frigid blast of air hitting her in the face was half as frosty as Leo’s sudden exit. Or as arctic as the chilly look in his eyes when he’d announced his decision to move and move now into his condo, which had been ready for the past two days. Or as glacial as the cold shoulder he’d turned her way, making his intentions to walk out of her life perfectly ice-crystal clear.
Finding Lauren waiting when Macy and Leo had arrived back at the loft had come as a surprise to both of the lovers. Macy knew they looked like they’d been doing exactly what they’d been doing, having arrived home freshly shampooed and blow dried—an obvious sign of fooling around.
They’d both taken advantage of the apartment’s shower, Leo offering Macy first run at the facilities while he repaired the damage they’d done to the bed. Once she was wet, her hair lathered up, and enjoying the beat of warm water on her skin, he’d slid back the curtain and joined her beneath the spray.
They’d spent the time in an oh-so-sexy soaping, yet hadn’t lingered—whether Leo was in a hurry to get out of there before they were caught in the act or anxious to get her back to the loft and into bed proper, Macy didn’t know.
Obviously he’d only been in a hurry to get the hell outta Dodge. All that stupid blather and hands-on education in adult fun had been another one of his attempts at one-upmanship.
Showing her that he was a better strategist than she could ever be. Making clear that their involvement was all about the game and nothing more. He hadn’t even asked Lauren if she was all right, the insensitive jerk.
Standing here trying to figure out how she’d been duped into thinking she could compete on any sort of level playing field with Leo Redding was proving to be less than productive. The only thing Macy had to show for her obsessing was a frostbitten nose. Never mind the icicles with dagger points stabbing at her heart.
Why was she putting herself through all this misery? Tonight called for both flavors of ice cream. Two spoons and two pints in hand, she padded in her red-footed fireman pajamas back to the living room, offering Lauren first choice of the comfort food. “You choose.”
Sitting in one corner of the sofa with a puffy crazy quilt tucked around her raised knees, Lauren sighed and held out a hand. “Does it really matter?”
“Nope, so let’s go halfsies.” Macy handed over the mocha java, hoarding the first of the chocolate. She settled onto the cushion next to Lauren’s and appropriated the quilt’s loose end.
“This really does suck,” Lauren said, jabbing her spoon into the rock solid slab.
“Here, then. You take the chocolate.” Maybe it wasn’t the flavor, after all, Macy thought, watching Lauren jab, jab, jab. “You want me to soften it up in the microwave?”
“No.” One more jab and the spoon bowed at a ninety degree angle. Lauren used the volcanic rock of the mocha java’s flat surface to straighten out the bend. “I mean it sucks that two sexy, intelligent women would actually resort to drowning their sorrows in food.”
“Speak for yourself. I have no sorrows.” Having learned Lauren’s lesson, Macy dragged the edge of the spoon across the solid chocolate, scraping off an edible ribbon. “But I would like to drown Leo, and Anton. For acting like such…men.”
Lauren licked the back of her spoon after rubbing it over the ice cream’s frozen surface. “Anton’s too good of a swimmer. He’s too good of an everything. I can’t measure up.”
“Why should you have to measure up? Why can’t you be yourself?” Macy couldn’t even rouse the enthusiasm to say, “I told you so.” Because she hadn’t really.
And even if she had, she obviously knew nothing about relationships and should’ve kept her mouth shut. The hand holding a spoonful of ice cream stopped halfway to her wide-open mouth. Had she and Leo even had a relationship?
“If you drop chocolate on my quilt, I’ll smack you.”
Macy shook her head and made quick work of the bite. “You can’t. Smacking is against the rules.”
“Obviously, I don’t do well with rules or I would have made sure I knew Anton before I moved in. And who said men got to call all the shots, anyway? Are they special just because they have a penis?”
Macy raised a brow at the rhetorical question and waited for Lauren to come to her senses.
“I know. I know.” Jab, jab, jab. “But it isn’t fair.”
“All is fair in love and scavenger hunts.”
“Your damn scavenger hunt is the root of all evil.” Lauren used her spoon to emphasize her point.
“I didn’t know that then. I do now.” Macy closed her mouth around a huge bite of chocolate and sighed. She didn’t have a clue what she was going to do about the scavenger hunt and her column. She supposed she’d write it as planned, though she doubted she could dredge up either the energy or the enthusiasm.
“So, what did you find out about Leo?”
Besides the fact that he uses his mouth better than any man should be allowed? “His first pet was an Irish setter named Bandit. He has a scar on his hip from a skateboarding accident. He doesn’t know how to play for the sake of fun. He only plays to win.”
“All of that was on your list?”
“Not the last part.”
“Did he win?”
“What was there to win?”
“Your heart.”
This time the jab, jab, jab was Macy’s. “My heart hasn’t been involved in a relationship for over a year. I’ll be fine. Let’s talk about you.”
Lauren pulled her spoon from her mouth, dragging it down her tongue in a long, slow, licking motion. “It’s not Anton at all. It’s totally me. One hundred percent.”
Macy gave a vehement shake of her head. “No way. I know you and I know Anton and I know the two of you as a couple. Whatever’s going on, he has to share the responsibility.”
“A couple of weeks ago, I would’ve agreed. But your scavenger hunt changed everything.” As Macy watched, Lauren wiped her mouth on the long sleeve of her pink thermal top.
Lauren was using her top for a napkin. The world was coming to an end—and so was Macy’s scavenger hunt. “Remind me not to waste any more time on the idea. I am so going to scrap this column. Oh!”
“What?” Lauren’s eyes widened. “What’s wrong?”
“Have you talked to Sydney? Or to Chloe or Mel?”
“All of them at work. Why?”
“Are they all out to kill me? Have I ruined all five of our lives?” Oh, good panic attack grief.
“Get a grip, Mace.” Lauren shoved a foot against Macy’s hip. “You haven’t ruined anyone’s life. In fact, I owe you a big thanks.”
“Oh, right.” She slumped even further down into the sofa. “How can you even say that with what I’ve put you through?”
“What I’m trying to explain before you get all Ally McBeal on me is that I needed what you put me through.” Lauren closed her eyes, opened them and took a deep, cleansing breath. “When I was working to discover those things about Anton, I realized there were more than a few things I didn’t know about mysel
f.”
“Including the one certain quality driving you to commit?” That particular list item had been a stroke of genius.
“Exactly. Panic isn’t a very logical reason. Emotional, yes. But totally irrational.”
“What did you have to panic about?”
Lauren looked at Macy from beneath humbly lowered lashes. “Sex, if you really must know.”
“Hmm. I thought I must. But now I think I mustn’t.”
“Ha!” Blowing a messy ice cream raspberry, Lauren licked her lips and added, “Even as often as you and I talk about men and sex, we’ve never talked about why we are the way we are.”
Yes. Oh, yes. Macy did understand, after all. “You mean why I would let a man like Leo Redding, who is about as wrong for me as a man can get, tie me to a bed when I don’t believe in sex being done to and not with another person?”
“Yes. That’s it. And why—wait a minute.” One hand went up like a stop sign. “Leo tied you to a bed?”
Macy nodded.
“And?”
“And it was fireworks.”
Lauren tapped her spoon to her mouth as she thought. “Was that really because of the way you feel about sex? Or because of the way you feel about Leo?”
“I don’t feel any way about Leo. I can’t. You saw how he walked out of here. Why would I feel anything for a man that callous?”
“Because love doesn’t make any sense,” replied Lauren the Oracle of Love.
Macy was not going to think about Leo and love at the same time. “Do you still love Anton?”
“The question is did I ever love Anton? Or did I love the sex?” She lifted both shoulders in a shrug. “He let me do anything I wanted. He’s strong and secure and my aggressive bedroom nature never threatened him. At least until he realized I’ve always had this, uh, problem. And that it wasn’t only my response to him.”
What a pair she and Lauren made, Macy thought, reaching the halfway point of the chocolate–chocolate chip. She took one last bite, then shoved her spoon into the carton. “So, what are you going to do now?”
“I’m going to come home, if it’s okay with you.”