Body Heat

by Susan Fox

  He smiled down at her. But not all that far down, even though he was inches over six feet. She was used to being more or less on eye level with men, which she’d never liked. What man found a skinny beanpole attractive?

  Jesse did.

  He tilted his head and his lips touched hers.

  Oh, yes. Pure bliss. Firm lips caressing hers, that uniquely Jesse scent in her nostrils, his strong, muscular body and the erotic thrust of demanding male flesh, confirming how much he wanted her.

  Just as much as she wanted him.

  How could anything that felt this good possibly be wrong? How could she resist a man who made her feel this way? Being together might not be wise, but it was right.

  And so she surrendered, flirting her stomach sideways against the bulge in his jeans. It was the first time in her life she’d wished she was taller, because then she’d have been able to press her crotch right against his erection.

  As if he’d read her thoughts, he grabbed her buttocks and lifted her off the ground, that extra few inches she longed for. And there he was, thrusting against the very part of her that most longed for him. She moaned.

  “Oh, yeah, Maura, let me hear you. Let me feel you.”

  She closed her eyes as she pressed and wriggled against him, trying to achieve the impossible task of surmounting several layers of clothing.

  This time it was Jesse who moaned. Then his mouth captured hers again, and this time his lips were hard and his tongue demanding. Maura responded eagerly.

  Her head reeled, the pleasure was so intense. Their mouths pillaged each other, their hips ground together, and inside her belly that amazing sensation was building. Pleasure, anticipation, growing in intensity. Now that she’d finally experienced orgasm, she wanted, needed—

  He grabbed her hips and thrust her away from him.

  Her eyes flew open and she whimpered with disappointment.

  He stepped away from her and locked her office door. Then he strode to the window and lowered the blinds.

  Oh, my gosh, this was like a fantasy. But even better, because the sexual passion between them was fueled by caring, connection, a—“Oh!” she gasped as he grabbed her roughly at the waist, then his lips took hers urgently.

  One quick, ravishing kiss, then he broke free. “Now, Maura. I need you now.”

  “But . . .” How? Here, in her office? “I need you, too,” she confessed.

  Boldly, she pressed a hand against the hard column of flesh inside his fly, his heat scorching her through the denim.

  “Unzip me.” His gravelly voice rasped.

  Somehow, it was unbearably arousing to have him command her. Especially when he was telling her to do the exact thing she most wanted.

  Hands trembling, she forced his jeans button through the hole. She grasped the tab of his zipper and worked it down. As she unzipped him, his erection filled the open space and she stopped to enjoy the sight of all that naked masculinity distending the front of his underwear and poking out the top.

  “Maura, you gonna finish the job?”

  “Mmm.” She resumed work on the zipper, then began to slide his jeans down, hooking her thumbs under the elastic of his underwear and taking it along, too. She peeled him inch by inch until he gave an impatient exclamation and took over, shoving his clothing down.

  His erection sprang free, jutting demandingly from a nest of dark curls.

  Her pulse raced. It throbbed so wildly at her throat that she had trouble catching her breath, and so demandingly between her legs that she ached to have him inside her.

  As she stared, a drop of moisture beaded at the head of his penis.

  “Take off your skirt and panties,” he said.

  Breathlessly, she undid her own button and zipper, let her skirt drop, then sent her panties skimming down on top of it.

  By the time she’d finished, he’d pulled his T-shirt over his head, found a condom, and sheathed himself.

  Not taking the time to free himself from battered running shoes and the jumble of jeans and underwear at his ankles, he sat on one of the vinyl chairs. “Now, Maura. Come here and kiss me.”

  His body was so beautiful, all ripply bronze muscles, springy dark hair, and that tantalizing erection.

  Clad just in her blouse and bra, she moved toward him and leaned down to kiss him.

  Their tongues had just touched when again his fingers stroked the folds between her legs—quick, a little rough, teasing her needy flesh. Then he caught her by the waist, both hands gripping tight, and eased her down to sit straddling his thighs.

  His penis rose in front of her, and she pressed against it, tilting her hips to rub their bodies together.

  One of his hands was inside her blouse, not bothering with the catch on her bra, just shoving the fabric up so he could cup her breast. He rolled the nipple between his thumb and finger, sending a fresh surge of pleasure to her groin.

  She arched into him, her head going back, and caught a glimpse of her purple orchid curving above them, the sensual flower faces smiling approval.

  His free hand grasped her bottom, lifted her, the crown of his penis probed between her legs, and she forgot all about the orchid. In one quick thrust, he was deep inside her and she whimpered with shock and sheer pleasure.

  “Oh, yes, Jesse.”

  “God, you’re hot. You drive me crazy.” His head was back, the planes of his face rigid. “Don’t move. Just hold still.”

  She did, savoring the feeling of him filling her, so hard and so deep. He felt so good, and she was all hot and squirmy and needy. No, she couldn’t keep still any longer.

  She lifted up a little, sliding up on him the way she slid her mouth up a Popsicle. And then down again, because it felt so good when he was all the way inside her and their pelvises pressed together. She leaned forward slightly, gripping his shoulders for balance, and changed the angle. Up, down, a little twist this way, and oh, my, what delicious pressure against her sensitive flesh, both inside and out. Fascinated, she gazed down, watching as their bodies joined.

  Yes, she’d read descriptions of lovemaking, but words, no matter how well written, couldn’t capture the immediacy, the intensity. The sight of his firm shaft, wet and gleaming, sliding in and out of her; the sexy coarseness of his dark, curly hair rubbing her most intimate flesh; the fierce bite of his fingers gripping her waist and her own digging into his shoulders; the wet, slippery sounds of their bodies joining and the rasp of their labored breathing.

  The amazing bliss of being with this man, in the most intimate of all acts.

  “Oh, Jesus,” he groaned, then his lips captured hers.

  She kissed him back just as fiercely. His eyes were open now, tawny gold, staring into hers. In their depths she read passion, yes, but more. It was like he saw into her soul, saw all her frailties and all her strengths, and wanted to claim her as his woman.

  He set the rhythm of their lovemaking now, a driving rhythm that with each upward stroke lifted both their bodies off the chair.

  Need spiraled inside her, centering, growing until it consumed her. She swiveled her hips, tightened around him, moaned with need, gazed deep into his amazing eyes, and—“Oh!” She shuddered as waves of pleasure rolled through her.

  She was still climaxing when Jesse jerked upward, deep into her core, and his orgasm caught her up and swept her under again.

  When finally it was over, she felt boneless. She sagged against him, her arms loosely circling his back. When she could finally speak, she said, “I could never have fantasized anything like this.”

  He hugged her close. “Me, either. Being with you is incredible.”

  For long minutes, Maura surrendered to sheer bliss. Then a sound in the corridor outside—a cough?—brought her back to reality.

  She pushed back from Jesse so she could see his face. Wonderingly, she said, “This wasn’t supposed to happen.”

  “Always thought your rules were crazy.”

  Her rules. She knew she’d had good reasons for t
hem, but the allure of Jesse was just too strong.

  Actions have consequences. Always consider those consequences before you act.

  And she always had. But now she didn’t want to. Rather than listen to her parents, she’d take a page from Scarlett O’Hara’s book, and leave that for tomorrow. Then, perhaps she’d remember the rules and regret this.

  No, she couldn’t regret this. It felt so perfect to be with Jesse.

  What had she told herself last night? She was a sexy thirty-year-old woman, learning about her own sexuality. And what better teacher than Jesse? For now, she’d think only of tonight.

  “There’s one thing I’m sorry about,” he said, tawny eyes gleaming.

  He had regrets already? “What?”

  “Taking it so fast. When I’m with you, I lose control.” Oh, my. How flattering. As her parents had taught her, she’d always believed strongly in control. Now, with a sense of discovery, she said, “There’s such a thing as too much control.”

  “There’s such a thing as long, slow, thorough lovemaking.”

  Yes, toes could actually curl. Heat licked through her. “Are you offering to demonstrate?”

  “That’s my plan.” He stood, dumping her onto her feet. “But not here. Let’s go to my place. Or yours?”

  “Mine,” she said immediately. Jesse in her bed, creating memories she’d always treasure.

  As they dressed, he said, “Come with me on the bike?”

  She stepped into her skirt. “I’m not dressed for it.”

  He grinned lasciviously. “You can hike it up. It’ll be sexy.”

  Oh, yes, it would, just like she’d imagined the last time she rode behind him. She was sorely tempted. But then the early shift staff would see her car in the parking lot, and there’d be questions. “Better not. We should leave separately, too.”

  “Tried that before,” he reminded her.

  “Tonight, it should work. It’s late enough, no residents are likely to be around, wanting to chat.”

  “So this is gonna be our secret?”

  She nodded. “It has to be.”

  He studied her for a long minute, but just said, “Okay.”

  When Maura parked by her apartment, Jesse was already there, standing by his Harley. He came over, took her hand, and dropped a kiss on her lips like those were the most natural things in the world to be doing.

  When they went in, she clicked on a light, nervous about his reaction.

  He glanced around the living room. “Nice. Looks peaceful.”

  She had chosen neutral colors—lots of shades of beige with occasional accents of blue, green, and brown—and furniture with simple lines. She looked around critically now. There should be plants. Maybe he’d help her pick some out.

  He took off his shoes and left them by the door, then padded behind her in sock feet to the kitchen. “Flowers and herbs look good.”

  She glanced toward the windowsill. “They do.” The room felt so much homier. She opened the fridge. “Would you like a glass of wine?”

  “Don’t suppose you’ve got any beer.”

  “Sorry, just wine.”

  “That’ll be good.”

  “A snack? I didn’t get much dinner tonight.” It was true, but she was also way out of her depth, having a man—a lover, a sexy hottie like Jessie—here in her apartment. They’d both come here for sex. She knew that. Yet she couldn’t just dive into it.

  Not the way she had back in her office. What on earth had got into her?

  Well, Jesse of course. She smothered a giggle and set about putting out Camembert and water biscuits, and pouring Ehrenfelser.

  They sat at the kitchen table, her in her customary seat on one side, with the view out the window, and him at one end, close to her. When he told her about the work he’d done at Mrs. Wolchuk’s, and the home baking she’d given him, Maura began to relax. Yes, this felt right, too. They were friends. They could talk about things.

  Hopefully, when their fling was over, that friendship would remain.

  They moved on to the subject of the new nonprofit society and tossed around names: No Place Like Home, Home Sweet Home, House Keepers.

  Now, both of them finished with the cheese and crackers and sipping a second glass of wine, he began to touch her—brushing her arm, caressing her thigh, dropping a kiss on her nose or cheek. Making her totally aware of him and getting her stirred up.

  So she did the same back, slipping a finger inside a rip in his jeans, toying with his earring and taking the opportunity to caress the lobe of his ear. “I like your earring. It’s sexy.”

  His finger tapped her cheek softly, here, there, and across her nose. “I like your freckles.”

  “Oh, no, seriously? I’ve always wished I didn’t have them.”

  “They’re cute, and then you blush so pink they disappear.”

  “I hate blushing, too.”

  “It’s sexy. Everything about you’s sexy.” He reached over and took her glasses from her shirt pocket. “Especially these.”

  “Now I know you’re joking. I should get contacts, but they bother my eyes and—”

  “No! Don’t get contacts. Jesus, Maura.”

  “What?”

  “You’ll spoil my fun.”

  Her nose wrinkled in perplexity. “What fun?”

  “It’s this game that drives me crazy. Whether you’re sexier with them on, or off.” He sounded dead serious.

  “You are the strangest man.”

  “Yeah, but you like me.”

  She chuckled. “Yes, I do.”

  Their gazes caught and held again. “And I like you back,” he said quietly. “You’re a special woman, Maura Mahoney.”

  Stunned, she couldn’t find words to respond.

  Jesse shifted, looking a little embarrassed. He reached over to twine a curl of her hair around his finger. “Your hair’s tousled.”

  “Is it?” She’d forgotten to straighten it before leaving Cherry Lane, she’d been in such a daze.

  He tugged out a hairpin. “It wants to come down.”

  Now he was back to his teasing ways, and she felt more at ease. “Does it now?”

  One by one, he pulled out the pins, and curl by curl her hair tumbled past her shoulders. When every strand had been freed, she leaned back and shook the heavy mass.

  “Hair brush?” he asked.

  Her mouth made an “oh.” He wanted to brush her hair? She couldn’t imagine a more seductive form of foreplay. “Bathroom counter.” She pointed down the hallway.

  A moment later he was back, pulling up a chair behind her and sitting where all she could see of him was his reflection behind hers in the kitchen window.

  She lounged blissfully as he worked out a few tangles with his fingers, then eased the brush through her thick hair, moving from roots to ends in long, sensuous strokes.

  It felt almost sinful to be enjoying herself this way. Especially when her gaze caught on the plate of leftover cheese and crackers on the table. “I should put the cheese back in the fridge.”

  “You should relax and enjoy.” He parted her hair at the back and teased the nape of her neck with soft kisses and little licks.

  “It’ll go stale.”

  “The world won’t come to an end. Let go of those rules every now and then, Maura. You don’t always have to be perfect.” His tone was teasing.

  She gave a wry chuckle. “I’m far from perfect.”

  “Perfect would be boring.”

  But she was boring. She’d always thought that about herself, except in grade twelve with Sally. And ultimately, that had gone so wrong. “I believed it was better to be a boring good girl than a bad girl who got in trouble.”

  “Makes sense.” The brush kept moving, long past a hundred strokes. “You were that little girl who lost her parents, thought no one wanted you. Got taken in by folks who didn’t know how to care for you, or care about you. You had to be perfect. Probably, some survival instinct said that if you weren’t, they’d toss
you out.”

  A survival instinct. The most primitive, fundamental instinct in the world. “Maybe so.” She studied his vague reflection in the window. Jesse Blue, hot motorcycle guy and amateur shrink.

  “But you’re grown up. You don’t have to be that kid anymore.”

  “I . . .” Was that why she was so rule-bound, why she didn’t make waves, why she hated to disappoint Agnes and Timothy, and everyone else in her life? “That sounds kind of messed up,” she said slowly. “I should have gotten past the issues that affected me as a child.”

  His hand stilled for a moment, then he went on brushing. “Yeah, and I should’ve figured out I wasn’t stupid. That there was some other reason I couldn’t read.”

  “When you were a child, no one gave you reason to believe in yourself. And kids form strong beliefs.” She thought it through as she spoke. “Subconscious ones. We don’t always realize why we behave the way we do, so we’re not likely to change.”

  “But when we realize what we’re doing . . .” He put the brush on the table and, standing, took her hands and pulled her to her feet. Voice low and husky, tawny eyes warm, he said, “You helped me see myself in a different way. See things I didn’t even realize were holding me back.”

  “Yes,” she breathed. “That’s it. That’s what you’re doing for me.”

  His hands framed her face, scooping the long hair back from it. “Seem to recall some talk about long, slow lovemaking.”

  That memory was vivid. “And thorough. Don’t forget thorough.”

  “Not a chance.”

  He put his arm around her waist and guided her out of the kitchen.

  She flicked off the light but left the scraps of cheese and crackers lying out on the table.

  In the bedroom, candles left over from her bath experiment sat on the dresser and she lit them, rather than turn on the lights. They, together with ambient light coming in the window, would provide enough illumination.

  When she turned from the dresser, Jesse held out his hands to her and she went to him. He kissed her forehead, her nose, her cheeks, then finally her lips, each touch sending sparks of arousal darting through her. “Thorough,” he murmured. “Have to get every freckle.”