by Dawson, Zoe
“I’m going to my room to sleep.”
“Okay. Goodnight.”
When her bedroom door closed, he ran his hand over his face. There was nothing he wanted to do more than get into her bed. Damn Harper, and damn Aiden for saving his life.
He went into his room and turned to close the door, but Daisy was right behind him. He smiled softly as he picked up the basset and rubbed her long, silky ears. Maybe the little mutt was coming around. This time, when he set her on the bed, instead of her walking to the end of it, she ear-tripped her way to him, licked his face and settled her rump against his chest. She made a soft, murmuring noise in her throat he could only associate with pure comfort and contentment and promptly fell to sleep. He felt warm inside. Hell, maybe he was coming around, too. He turned off the light and lay down.
#
The ear-shattering four-note motif of Beethoven’s Symphony No. 5 yanked him from a deep sleep. For a disoriented moment he sat up in bed blinking and then swung out of bed. Daisy’s response to the crashing music was a sing-song howl. He shushed her, glancing at the clock to see that he’d only been asleep for about thirty minutes.
Stepping out of his room, he collided with a warm, silky, stumbling shape in the dark that could only be Poe. She mumbled an apology and dashed away like quicksilver. Light flooded the living room and Jared squinted and then blinked several times to adjust his eyes. Poe was bent over in the corner frantically moving her hands, then as suddenly as the music exploded out of the speakers, it was silenced.
But it was like there was a booming going off in his head still. She was wearing a cropped t-shirt with the word ‘badass’ in red across the black cotton.
Her smooth back was bared to him, the tiny gray shorts she wore stretched across her fine ass. He wondered again about the tattoo and heat shot to his groin again.
“I’m a huge fan of Beethoven,” he said, his voice scratchy with sleep. “Would this be his Midnight Symphony No. 5? And here I am, caught without my tux.”
She rose and whipped around, her eyes filled with trepidation. “I am so, so sorry. God, my neighbors are going to kill me. Shit.”
While she searched for the plug, Jared tried to get the vision of her midriff out of his mind. To stop thinking of that satin-smooth skin and the pierced belly button. From this distance he couldn’t see what she had thrust through the skin of her navel but he wanted to more than his next breath. She must cause riots at the pool.
She focused on him and then quickly looked away. “Um, you’re one of those guys.”
“What guys? Witty even in the middle of the night?”
“Haha, no. One that sleeps without a shirt on.”
“Yeah, it bunches up and I don’t like it.” Sometimes talking to Poe made him feel as if he had one foot inside the twilight zone. “So, is your CD player on a timer?”
“Not exactly.”
“How did it get turned on without the help of human hands? Poltergeist, solar flare? Don’t tell me. You’ve invented a sentient CD player that likes to hear Beethoven in the middle of the night?”
“You really are quick on your feet.”
“You had to be in Afghanistan or you were dead.”
She paled a little and moved closer to him.
“I’m sorry, that was a knee-jerk reaction. So maybe I’m not totally charming at midnight.”
“No, you’re still pretty charming.”
“Poe, the CD player?”
“Right. I taught Edgar and Allan how to turn it on.”
“You’re kidding me. So they…”
“Yeah, they dance when I’m not here. They love it. I forgot to unplug it and they must have been fooling with it and brushed the volume knob. Don’t look at me like that. Jack Russells get bored so easily. When they get bored, they find unacceptable ways of entertaining themselves. Like eating gummy worms and playing football with my underwear.”
He looked down and saw the ball of lace on the floor. “Are you sure about that?” he asked, reaching down and snagging the scrap of fluff.
As soon as he stood up, he realized it wasn’t exactly underwear, but a bra and he had it by the strap. As soon as he stood with it, it unraveled like a slow striptease.
He froze as his focus narrowed down to that tiny bit of nothing. Sheer black lace, hot pink ribbons, and something he was sure a woman described as scallops along the band that would fit exactly under her full breasts.
“It’s not underwear.” Self-control was supposed to be his middle name. But his fucking hand trembled. Trembled.
“Technically it is. It’s all kinda a group of unmentionables. That’s part of a set and came with a matching pair of G-string panties.” She clapped a hand over her mouth.
If he wasn’t so turned on, he would have laughed.
“Oh, God. I can’t believe I said that out loud.”
Her voice came out strangled with embarrassment, but from his vantage point there was absolutely nothing for her to be embarrassed about. This wisp of lace was as volatile, as dangerous, as a live hand grenade, and he stood there frozen with indecision. Should he let it go and run like hell or jump on it and put himself of out his misery.
She walked across the room, snatched it out of his hand and balled it up in her fist. His mouth went dry thinking about something so delicate and barely there on her body. How much he wanted to untie those pink ribbons that were sure to be what held the miniscule G-string on her body.
“Those damn dogs.”
Ah, hell, he was trying to be professionally disengaged here, but she was undermining him at every turn. “They are incorrigible.” The words came out sounding like something he’d swallowed. His heart beat heavily in his chest.
He was going to have to kiss her. He couldn’t possibly get through the night, or even the next five minutes, without kissing her. His body was nearly electrified with the need to touch her, to somehow draw her close and bury his face in the curve of her neck and shoulder, to open his mouth on her skin and run his tongue all the way down her body from her throat to between her legs.
Fuck it! He was going to fry a circuit board if he didn’t get out of the room.
He cleared his throat again. “I’m going to…ah…go back to your bed.” He winced. Too late; his brain was already mush. “I mean bed. I’m going back to bed.” She breathed, and his pulse raced. She glanced at him and his blood surged. Amazingly, the statement came out sounding fairly controlled, as if he were actually in charge of himself—which he wasn’t at all. Now, all he could do was hope she didn’t notice his almost painful, raging hard-on.
Great.
Getting a boner was so professional.
#
Oh man, she was nothing but a tormenter. She’d given the man two hard-ons in one day. Okay, technically it was the next day, so it was within the last 24 hours she’d managed to turn him on twice.
And his body. She shouldn’t go there, she really shouldn’t. But it was really nice to see what those jeans molded over and what that shirt covered.
Defined, rock-hard abs. She had pretty much known he had those, because she felt them only a few hours ago during that whole hip-thrusting fiasco. But knowing and seeing were two completely different things.
She’d been struck dumb, so it was no surprise she’d blurted out that nonsense about her underwear. She groaned, remembering what she’d said. It’s too bad, she told herself firmly—again—that he wasn’t her type. He was too virile and male, like over the top. She was much more into mild-mannered men who could do math in their heads.
Damn, she hoped Jared couldn’t do math in his head, but—oh, she forgot. He was a G.Z.K. Emphasis on the G.
His shoulders actually looked even broader without his shirt, his chest, the muscles taut and looking so very…touchable…okay, so he was tormenting her, too. Did girls get hard-ons? Yes, they did, but they were more wet and slippery, which went really well with the heat a man was packing.
Her hand tightened over the scrap of lace she had in her hand
, and she headed for her bedroom, snapping off the light as she passed. She tucked the bra back into her underwear drawer…like it would do any good.
As she got back into bed, Edgar and Allan came out from under the bed. They jumped up. Edgar had the decency to look sheepish, but Allan just looked at her boldly as if to say, “I bet you won’t forget to unplug the CD player again. Give me an inch…”
“And you’ll take a mile, you inconsiderate little butthead.”
He walked onto her lap and gave her face a lick. “It’ll take more than that, mister, to make up for that performance tonight.” He whined in the back of his throat and bent forward and covered his face with his paws.
Poe laughed softly and ruffled his fur. “You are forgiven. After all, it’s who you are.”
After she snapped off the light and lay down and closed her eyes, he ninja-stole another lick to her face. “Okay, are you going for points now, you little con artist?” His growling bark only made her give him a laughing shush.
Yeah. It was too bad she’d deemed Jared Taylor off limits. She squirmed a little, willing the blood rushing to her naughty parts to stop. It would be just her luck to have erotic dreams of Jared all night.
Hmmm, she was suddenly eager to go to sleep.
Chapter Seven
Poe stumbled out of bed, yawning deeply and wishing like hell she’d remembered to set the timer on her coffeepot the night before. The sun was barely visible over a very leaden gray horizon, rain spattering her window.
The moment she opened her bedroom door and smelled fresh coffee, she silently thanked Jared. She needed a shower before she faced him, however. “Jared?” she called out. Wow, he got up early on a Sunday. When he didn’t answer, she figured he must be gone. She could only hope it was for a doughnut or bagel run.
Thank God. She’d had erotic dreams about the man all night. That’s what happened when she went to bed with a raging female hard-on.
Poe pushed open the bathroom door and felt the steam, smelled the body wash, sharp and clean. She stopped, confused, and then she saw him, one of her white towels low on his waist, his hair wet and tousled.
Her first glimpse of a scruffy, early morning Jared. And whatever had been primed to explode from her lips evaporated like morning mist under a rising sun.
And her temperature spiked like an August heat wave.
The morning beard coating his jaw, the way his hair fell over his forehead in that boyish way, made his eyes darker, and emphasized how lush his eyelashes were. And his mouth. Oh God, she shouldn’t go there, but her eyes couldn’t seem to stop staring at his lips. The ruggedness the stubble lent to his face just underscored all the more that soft, chiseled mouth.
Her thighs quivered, her nipples hardened, and she had another raging female hard-on.
“Shit! Shit! Shit!” She backed out of the bathroom. Her elbow hit the doorjamb and she squealed with pain. Whoever thought up the name funny bone was obviously a masochist. Slamming the door, she headed for the kitchen.
Once there, she couldn’t figure out what to do with her hands while her elbow throbbed to the hard beat of her heart. In her defense, she wasn’t accustomed to having men in her apartment first thing in the morning. Well, not normally, and if she did, it was because they spent the night. In that case, she wouldn’t feel like a peeping Thomasina. She started putting away the dishes from the dishwasher. If she didn’t, she was going to run screaming from her apartment to escape the sizzling sexual tension that was now tightening her body with no relief in sight.
She could feel him come up behind her, her awareness of him as finely tuned as her senses were to the animals she worked with. Except with him there was all that sexual energy jazzing things up. She cleared her throat and squared her shoulders a little, then made the mistake of looking back at him.
Hard, wet muscle. He’d at least put jeans on, but they were unbuttoned, as if he’d put them on in a hurry. She wondered if he had underwear on. Lord, help her and those tantalizing deep indentations on either side of his hips. Lord, help her some more, not to mention the hair that arrowed down and disappeared beneath the placard of his jeans. It was time to look up. But that didn’t help. Droplets slipped down his broad, thickly muscled chest. His eyes, full of unspoken appreciation and the most intense gaze she’d ever seen, feasted on her. He was both unnerving and charming at the same time. She got the distinct vibe from him that she was in the company of a gentleman—and a rake, a description she hadn’t even thought was in her lexis.
“I’m so sorry I saw you half-naked.”
“Look on the bright side, darlin’. I could have been all nekkid.
“Oh shit! Next time lock the door! Save me from getting this…”
“Turned on?”
She whipped around. “What makes you think I was turned on?”
“Aren’t you? I’m freaking vibrating.”
It was too early in the day for this. She couldn’t handle this kind of full-out assault on her senses. Or on her mind. Or…hell, what part of her didn’t he affect? He muddled her up far too easily. Muddled was definitely not what she needed to be right now.
But when he lifted his hand, barely brushing the underside of her chin with his fingertips, and tipped her head back a bit further…she let him.
“I think about you,” he said, his voice nothing more than a rough whisper.
Her skin tingled as if the words themselves had brushed against her.
“All the effing time. You in those damn crazy shoes, delicate and unusual dresses, tight shorts, and baring-midriff tops. I spent half the night thinking about how you’d look in that unmentionable ensemble and the other half wondering what you have piercing your belly button.” He smiled softly.
“It’s a dragon.”
His smile broadened as his mouth lowered slowly toward hers. “Fuck,” he whispered. He closed his eyes and his hand trailed down her body to the skin of her waist, and she gasped at the warm tingle of his fingertips as he traced over the ring. His lips brushed across hers.
She was frozen for a second. The sensation was amazing, mind-shattering.
His arms tightened around her. Her lips parted, his tongue slipped inside, and she fell straight into heaven.
She couldn’t believe this was happening, heat washing through her, a sweet ache coming to life again between her legs. She’d never felt like this before, ever, with any man. The sheer primal force of him swamped her senses.
She opened her mouth wider, wanting more. No man could possibly taste this delicious, feel this delicious. She hardly believed that anyone this amazing would want her so physically. She was the smart one, the brainy one. He was responding to her with every breath, with every touch, opening himself to her, practically begging her to explore. There was nothing she wanted to do more than feel the hard warmth of him, the lean toughness, to sink herself into the exquisite reality of his body.
Dangerous ground, but so incredibly yummy. Groaning softly, she pressed against his mouth, drawing him deeper in to her kiss, and he slid his other hand down around the curve of her waist, pressing her into his hips, growling a little.
Her arms traveled up around his neck. His skin so soft and moist against her forearms she wanted to linger, but her hands itched to get into his thick, dark hair.
She cupped his damp nape, the movement releasing that just-showered smell. He groaned softly, his mouth moving harder on hers as her fingers slipped into his wet hair.
Soft like feathers, like down. She cradled his head in her hands, and the sensation was like she was coming apart and being put back together one molecule at the time. How could a man this tough, this hard, have any softness to him at all?
Then her hands slipped down and she palmed his chest, the hard contours, rubbing over his flat nipples.
“Poe,” he said softly, “You’re so beautiful.”
His sexy accent wrapped around her name making her melt with each word.
Her cell phone chimed, and she didn’t want t
o acknowledge it, but Jared pulled away only enough so that he could speak. “You should get that. It could be important.”
Reluctantly she agreed with him. When she picked it up, she sighed. “It’s Harper.”
Jared’s face closed down. Shuttered. She sighed again.
“Hello.”
“Poe, we’re getting together for brunch, you in?”
“Yes.”
“Okay, eleven at Mission Cool.”
“See you then.”
She turned to find Jared gone. He emerged from the hall wearing a black t-shirt, tucking it into his jeans.
“What was that? In the kitchen.”
“That was our sexual attraction exploding.”
“Oh, and you think it was a mistake.”
“Don’t you? You said I was your dance partner and it could complicate things.”
Her mother. She was supposed to be focusing on The Fur Ball and the dance routine, getting him ready for the competition, not kissing him in her kitchen like she couldn’t get enough. Oh, yeah. God, there just wasn’t enough room in her mind for both her mother and Jared’s hot, wet kiss.
“So we probably shouldn’t really put any significance on it, right?”
“Right. A lapse.”
She nodded. “I’m going to get my shower. I have brunch at eleven.” She would make that a cold shower.
She must be out of her ever-loving mind. In fact she was sure of it. She felt awkward and uncertain, and yet still powerfully connected to Jared, this man she had kissed and allowed to kiss her silly in her kitchen.
“Okay.” He walked into the living room and turned on the TV, and Poe, all her tingling parts, and her deflated ego, headed for the bathroom.
#
He sat on the couch and pretended to watch a basketball game until the bathroom door shut behind Poe. Then he closed his eyes and leaned back. His dick was throbbing and he was thinking if she wasn’t in there right now, he’d get himself a cold shower. How stupid could he be, kissing her like that?
Geezus! It’d been about the hottest kiss he’d ever shared with a woman, and her skin was like satin. Right, this trip down memory lane wasn’t helping him or his dick. Really, he had vowed to keep his hands off her. He was lying to her, betraying her, and yet he still wanted her with the heat of a thousand suns.