Body Heat

by Susan Fox

  Thorough and naked would be even better. She eased back in the circle of his arms and brought her hands to the bottom of his T-shirt. She peeled it upward until his hands took over.

  He pulled it over his head and tossed it to the floor. His torso was perfect: strongly muscled, with those sexy curls of dark hair, those cute dark nipples.

  Glancing below his belt, she saw he was already aroused. She ran her finger down his fly, pressing against the bulge inside, hearing his quick intake of breath.

  “My turn,” he said, and started working on the buttons on her blouse.

  She blessed the feminine instinct that had made her put on her peach lingerie this morning, and blessed it again when he unfastened her skirt and let it drop.

  He scooped her up, carried her over to the bed, and put her down.

  She tossed back the duvet and had barely stretched out on the ivory sheet before he’d stripped off the rest of his clothing and was following her down. He blanketed her with his body, hard where she was soft, and gave her one intense, toe-curling kiss. But then he eased away.

  When she made a sound of complaint, he said, eyes dancing in the candlelight, “Thorough.”

  He began to kiss her, starting at the hollow in her throat and working his way down until he suckled her nipple through the softly abrasive lace of her bra. The only part of her he touched was that one nipple. When she’d played with her nipples in the bath, she’d thought her breasts were unresponsive, but, oh, how wrong she’d been. Tingly heat radiated out from her nipple, and her lower body clenched and twisted with need.

  Relentlessly, Jesse carried on, teasing her other nipple, then unhooking her bra and starting all over again with the first nipple.

  What delicious agony.

  Finally, he gave her a respite when he carried on, licking a teasing trail down over her ribs and belly, then circling the dip of her navel. He toyed with the lacy band at the top of her thong but didn’t peel it down. Instead, he breathed hot air through the skimpy fabric.

  She shivered, guessing where his mouth was heading.

  And yes—oh, yes!—now that seductive mouth was kissing her intimately through the narrow band of the thong. His tongue licked, probed, sucked, and she pressed herself demandingly against it.

  But he moved away, kissing inner thighs, nibbling and licking her damp flesh, heading toward but just avoiding the places she really wanted him to touch. She squirmed, twisted, moaned her frustration.

  He peeled her thong off and tossed it away, then finally he was back where she needed him, laving her swollen lips with his tongue, flicking gently at her clitoris—and yes, she most definitely had one and it was joyously operational.

  But then he backed off again, not touching her but blowing air across her wet, swollen flesh.

  He came back, retreated again, and each time he returned, the sensations were more intense, the need coiled higher and tighter inside her.

  “Jesse!” she pleaded, unable to stand it any longer.

  Now he swirled his tongue around her clit, flicked it, sucked it gently between his lips. She held her breath, and this time he didn’t leave her, he kept sucking until her body exploded with pleasure.

  Thorough. Oh, yes, there was a lot to be said for thorough.

  When the ripples of climax faded, she knew what she wanted next: to explore Jesse’s body.

  She forced her limp body into a sitting position and, trying to sound confident, said, “Lie down for me.”

  He cocked an eyebrow but obeyed, settling on his back with his head on a pillow. He was so dark against her ivory sheet and pillowcase, with his beautiful brown body and the shiny black hair tangled around his face. He looked exotic, almost dangerous—yet, he was Jesse. Her friend; her lover.

  Experimentally she ran a hand over his chest, felt the crispness of his chest hair, the bead of his nipple. Would he like it if she suckled his nipple, the way he’d done to hers? She leaned over and gave it a try, and he moaned in response.

  This was good information for future reference, but at the moment her mind was pretty much one-track. Her hand drifted down toward his lean belly. His erection was a solid baton of flesh lying flush against his stomach, right straight up the middle all the way to his navel. It was a bit intimidating and she could hardly believe that all of that . . . masculinity had been inside her body.

  It was exciting, too. The throbbing between her legs had started up again.

  “Won’t break if you touch it,” he drawled.

  He must think she was so naïve.

  She summoned her courage and grasped him in her hand, wrapping her fingers all the way around his shaft, about midway down.

  He sucked in his breath and she held still. Then he slowly let out his breath, and she began to move her hand, pumping up and down a few times. Next, she circled the head of his penis with a gentle finger, amazed at how velvety smooth his skin was there. She cupped his testicles one by one, surprised at how furry they were.

  Jesse made encouraging sounds, little moans and purrs of satisfaction.

  Her own body was growing more aroused, just as if he’d been touching her. But he wasn’t. This time he was leaving it up to her.

  Emboldened, she bent down, her hair streaming across his belly, and licked him.

  His hips jerked and he groaned, sounding like he was in pain.

  Quickly, she lifted her head. “Am I hurting you?”

  “Oh, yeah, you’re killing me.”

  “Oh, Jesse, I’m sorry.”

  He gave a ragged chuckle. “Killing me with pleasure, Maura.”

  “Oh! Well, that’s . . . good.” She went back to what she’d been doing, licking every inch of him, then closing her lips around him and sucking. His musky, purely masculine scent was a potent aphrodisiac.

  He caught a handful of her hair and tugged. “Come here and kiss me.”

  She stretched over him, blanketing him, wriggling up his body for that kiss.

  His mouth took hers, fiercely, and his hands grasped her buttocks, holding her tight against him. She wriggled some more until she was perfectly positioned on top of him.

  His tongue thrust in and out of her mouth, in a rhythm that mimicked sex.

  She sucked it.

  He groaned again. “I need to be inside you.”

  “Oh, yes.”

  “Got protection?”

  Condoms? He thought she was the kind of girl who kept condoms beside the bed? Actually, that was pretty flattering. “I don’t. You do, right?” He must. They couldn’t stop now.

  “In my wallet.”

  She scooted off the bed, found his jeans, and brought his wallet to him. He extracted the little package, tossed his wallet onto the bedside table, and handed her the condom.

  Startled, she almost dropped it. He wanted her to put it on him? She’d never done that. Her two lovers had always taken care of this aspect of the process, and she had averted her eyes discreetly.

  Inspired, she leaped off the bed and hurried to the kitchen, where she grabbed her glasses. Perched again on the bed, she slipped them on.

  Jesse’s eyes widened. “Holy shit. I’ve never seen you with your hair down and your glasses on. God, woman, that’s sexy.”

  She smothered a satisfied grin and said demurely, “I have to read the instructions.” That was true, but he’d think it was sex play.

  She scanned the instructions and opened the wrapper, then, with her glasses still on, fumbled to roll the condom onto his erect penis.

  He groaned and rasped out, “I should’ve done it.”

  “Am I doing it wrong?”

  “You’re doing it so right, it’s driving me crazy.”

  She grinned smugly. “That’s okay then.”

  The moment she’d secured it, he sat up, pulled her into his arms without giving her a chance to take off her glasses, and rolled so she was on the bottom. He rose above her and an instant later surged inside.

  Oh, yes! That felt so very good, the way he filled eve
ry empty, needy bit of her.

  This time, though, it wasn’t a quick race to the finish line. They kissed, they caressed, he shifted pace from fast to slow. He rolled again so that she was on top, then again so they were on their sides facing each other. Sometimes, he slowed so that he moved just the tiniest bit, rubbing some secret spot inside of her that had her gasping with pleasure, then crying out as orgasm rolled through her.

  Then, finally, he rolled atop her again, caught her hands, and held them above her head. Gazing straight into her eyes through her glasses, he drove them both to the peak and over the top.

  They hung there together for long moments, then as her muscles began to relax, he eased down. After dealing with the condom, he settled on his back, his arm around her, tucking her into the curve of his shoulder. She finally took off her glasses so she could nestle closer, and wrapped a leg over him.

  Lazily, he stroked her shoulder and arm, and ran his fingers through her hair, which was now hopelessly tangled. “When you went down on me and all this gorgeous hair tumbled across my belly and cock, it was a fantasy come true.”

  She smiled into his eyes. “You make all my fantasies come true.”

  “I’d like to do that, Maura. You mean a lot to me.”

  “And you to me.”

  “You’re not going to start quoting the rule book and saying we can’t keep seeing each other?”

  “I’d decided to think about that tomorrow.”

  He cocked his head toward her bedside clock. “And it is.”

  She glanced at the time. Yes, it was past midnight. “You want to keep seeing me?”

  “Yes.” One simple word, spoken firmly, with no hesitation.

  For how long? But she couldn’t ask that. He’d told her all his relationships were casual. This was the guy who viewed sex and bike rides as equally significant. Soon there’d be another woman on the back of his Harley and in his bed.

  The thought shouldn’t make her heart ache. It was naïve and stupid to care too much for a man who was a player, a man she’d known from the beginning couldn’t possibly fit into her world.

  Yet, somehow, it was impossible not to care for Jesse. Surely, when their affair had run its course, she could shift that caring into pure friendship. “I want to see you, too,” she told him. They’d be careful, make sure no one else found out. He knew that was one rule she wouldn’t break.

  Jesse studied her unblinkingly, then he swung off the bed. “Back in a minute.”

  What? Had she said the wrong thing?

  Cool without him there, she pulled the top sheet and duvet over her and sat up to await his return.

  When she saw the two glasses of wine in his hands, she breathed a sigh of relief.

  He handed her a glass and swung into bed beside her, propping pillows behind his back. He clicked his glass to hers. “To us, Maura Mahoney.”

  Happily, she replied, “To us, Jesse Blue.” As lovers, friends, business colleagues. She hoped Jesse would be in her life for a long time.

  “About that reunion of yours,” he said slowly.

  The reunion? Aagh. Why did he have to spoil this perfect moment by reminding her of the reunion? “No appendicitis yet,” she tried to joke. “Guess I’ll have to go.” And go alone, too. There was no way she could invite Edward now.

  “If you wanted”—Jesse sounded as if he was struggling to dredge up words—“I could go with you.”

  Jesse? Her date for the reunion? She squeezed her eyes shut and a scene she had imagined before flashed into her head.

  The doors to the high school gym flew open and they rode in on Jesse’s shiny black bike. Heads turned, people gaped, all conversation ceased.

  Everyone was in evening dress but none came close to touching Jesse when he slid off the bike in his tux. He looked as dashing and sexy as Sean Connery’s Bond. He bowed slightly in her direction and held out his arm so she could slip her hand through it.

  She inclined her head and accepted the invitation, and they swept forward. She wore a red off-the-shoulder ball gown that swished with each step she took, and killer heels. As tall as she was, Jesse was even taller.

  “Is that Maura Mahoney?” she heard Cindy say. “I can’t believe it!”

  “Who’s that man she’s with?” someone asked.

  “He’s a movie star, isn’t he?” another answered. “He’s the most handsome thing I’ve ever seen.”

  “He’s pure sex, walking,” an awed voice whispered . . .

  “Maura?” Jesse’s voice broke in. “Are you all right?”

  Her eyes flew open, to see him beside her in bed, the sheet draped carelessly across his hips.

  He’d offered her her fantasy.

  But...

  Obviously, they couldn’t ride into the gym on a bike. And Jesse likely didn’t own a suit, much less a tux. The girls from her class would be impressed by his looks, but they’d ask what he did, what post-secondary degrees he’d earned. It was Wilton Academy, for heaven’s sakes; everyone would have graduate degrees and impressive jobs.

  But the capper, for her, was imagining the shock and disapproval on her parents’ faces. And if they found out he’d dropped out in grade ten, that he couldn’t read . . .

  “Maura?” Impatience edged his voice.

  Why did she care what people thought? Jesse was special, a really great guy.

  She should be ashamed of herself for thinking that way. And she was. But even if she put all the rest aside, she couldn’t go out in public with Jesse. “I, uh, really appreciate the offer.” She struggled to find words and couldn’t meet his eyes. “But everything I said before is still true. About my promotion, and your community service. We can’t risk them both, not for my silly high school reunion.”

  “I get that.”

  “You do? Then why—”

  “Thought we could tell my lawyer the garden’s done and you don’t have any more work for me. He’d have to find me someplace else to finish my community service.”

  She’d been planning to move Jesse into doing repairs, but he was right. It was a plausible story to tell his lawyer. And if Jesse wasn’t working under her supervision, the two of them could be together. But for how long?

  “So, what about that reunion?” he asked.

  Chapter 19

  Maura’s face wore a deer-in-the-headlights expression.

  And it sunk in. Deep and hard.

  He’d actually been stupid enough to buy all that crap she’d been spouting about her promotion.

  He’d realized he cared for her, a lot. That he was falling, head over heels, and liking it. He’d thought she felt the same, and so he’d found a way they could be together without it hurting her career.

  And yeah, her career mattered to her, but that wasn’t the real reason she’d been putting him off. He should’ve known better, a guy like him dreaming of a future with a woman like her.

  “So I’m good enough to fuck,” he spat out, “but that’s it. I’m your dirty little secret.”

  Her “No, that’s not it” came several long seconds too late.

  He leaped out of bed and yanked on his underwear.

  “Jesse, no. Wait.”

  His back to her, he ignored her. What an idiot he was. Damn it, he knew better. He’d been wary in the beginning; Con had even warned him. And still, he’d been stupid enough to believe Maura was for real.

  “Jesse, let’s talk about this.”

  He zipped up his jeans. Even that shit about dyslexia and the repair service for seniors, it wasn’t because she cared about him. She saw him, but not as a man, as a charity project.

  “As for your stupid nonprofit society, I don’t need your fucking charity.”

  “It’s not charity. It’s a worthwhile project and you’d be great at it.”

  He pulled his tee over his head and turned to look at her, sitting upright in bed with the duvet pulled tight around her shoulders. A do-gooder, trying to remake his life into some image she had in her head. Because he wasn’t
good enough for her.

  “I’m happy doing what I’m doing,” he said heatedly. “I don’t need you messing around with my life.”

  “I was just trying to help,” she said softly.

  “Don’t you get it? I don’t need your help.” He stalked out of the bedroom, down the hall, and out of her apartment, slamming the door behind him.

  Con was right. People like them should stick to their own kind.

  Blood boiling, he cranked over the engine on the Harley. He’d head over to Low Down, shoot some pool with the guys, and drink enough beers to drive Maura Mahoney right out of his mind.

  If there was that much beer in the world.

  Maura awoke to the insistent ring of the phone. She forced open eyes swollen by hours of tears—tears of self-pity, and of guilt—and glanced at the clock. It was ten. She never slept that late, but then she never cried until dawn, either. Her head ached fiercely and she longed to put it back on the pillow.

  The phone rang again. Could it be Jesse? What would she say to him? She’d hurt him last night. She hadn’t meant to. She’d thought he knew as well as she that they were too different; she’d thought he was a player who’d never care enough about one woman to give her the power to hurt him.

  She’d been wrong. Wrong in so many ways.

  Ever since she’d met him, she’d kept messing up.

  She was a horrible person. And yet, the bottom line was still true: her world and his just didn’t match. He’d realize it, too, when he thought things through.

  But she’d hurt him. She felt awful for hurting him. And, selfishly, her heart would break if she’d destroyed their friendship.

  Another ring. She was tempted to ignore the phone, but that would be breaking the stupid rules and she’d done enough of that. She grabbed it and said, tentatively, “Yes?”

  “Maura? Oh, thank God!” It was Ming-mei, and the panic in her voice had Maura swinging out of bed.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “There’s been a robbery! Mr. and Mrs. Trotter came back from the inn where they spent the night, and her jewelry’s gone.”

  “Oh, no!” Mrs. Trotter had several very expensive pieces. The recently retired general manager of Cherry Lane had advised the woman many times to keep them in safe storage, but she said she liked to look at them, and to wear different items when the mood struck her. “They’re really gone? She didn’t take them to the inn with her and forget she’d done it?”