Still Hot For You

by Diane Escalera

  “Yeah. Your father's pretty amazing. Look what he accomplished.”

  “He started out with nada.” Dylan wiped his hands on the dishtowel. He reflected on the powerful influence of his father.

  “Money-wise maybe, but your father had talent.”

  He smiled at Shay. She related more to his father than to her own. They'd hit it off instantly. She had become the daughter his dad had never had. Carving into the thick sandwich, he went into deeper thought.

  Far back as he could remember, Papi had labored hard for the family. Dylan had done what little he could. By age eighteen, he'd acquired almost as much carpentry skill as his father. He'd recruited Christian's equally gifted hands, and in the process had kept his baby brother off the streets and under surveillance. “I'm glad that I'm in a position to do something for them,” he said. “My parents sacrificed a lot.”

  Shay looked from him to the counter. He caught the instant change in her demeanor. Shoulders hunched, she slumped in her stool. “My parents didn't have to sacrifice.”

  “Some people are lucky.”

  * * * *

  Lucky? Shay wouldn't summarize it that way. It's not that she wasn't grateful. She'd had it all. Her father was a pillar in the community, a land and business developer who'd built a mini city in the suburbs. Upscale communities, chic shopping centers, designer office space—he'd had a hand in everything. He was a dry, rigid man, sometimes ruthless, always feared. He'd provided his children with abundant material wealth, but rarely had he given them his time. Neither had her mom. A debutante in her own right, social functions suited her more than being a soccer mom. “They're not so lucky,” Shay said with the sarcasm she felt.

  A touchy subject. She rarely talked about her family. The LaCostas were a different story. Shay was close to Dylan's family, which didn't make things easier with her father—who wasn't very fond of the LaCostas, not that he had any reason to dislike them. They only had one fault: their son had married his daughter.

  Dylan pushed a plate in front of her. Shay salivated. She could finally quiet the stomach that had been making obscene noises for at least twenty minutes. Miracle Dylan hadn't commented. “Did you have lunch with your father today?”

  Her head snapped up. “How did you know?”

  “Only time you mention your family.”

  “Now I know why.”

  “So you did have lunch.”

  “Yep. The dreaded monthly lunch meeting.”

  “If it's that bad, why do you go?”

  “It's easier to humor Nick. He's not used to no.”

  “True.”

  Shay lifted her sandwich and bit into it. She chewed and savored the bite. “Mmm. You make the best subs.” She swallowed and tore off another piece.

  “I know.” Dylan's pretty white teeth dug into his own sandwich. He chomped on a big chunk. “What did you talk about?” he garbled.

  “The usual. He still doesn't get that I'm happy at the bank. But then, he gives no value to what I do. I could run a hundred branches and it wouldn't matter.”

  “It matters. He just won't admit it. Your father hates that you don't work for him.”

  “Two ass-kissers in the family are enough.”

  “Yeah, but you're a lot swifter than them.”

  Shay wasn't better than her brother and sister. She was different. Down-to-earth. Practical. They were spoiled, self-absorbed. The middle child, she had never bonded with either of them. Their Muffy existence had never been her thing. She'd gravitated to Irma, her nanny, who'd taken more interest in her than her own parents.

  Irma's compassion had rubbed off on little Shay. She'd taught her not to judge based on outward appearances. Everyone had something special. Irma's best lesson had stuck. Character is more powerful than money. At the time, she'd been too young to understand. Today, those words defined Shay. “He doesn't need me.”

  “With Nick, it's all about control.”

  “Yeah, well, he'll never control me.” Shay rolled her eyes. She couldn't imagine working for her uptight dad. “Thank God, I work in a different county and no one connects me to him. No special treatment. No free rides. Like the LaCostas, I earn my own way.”

  Dylan's chin raised a notch. He gave her a look that melted the cheese in her sandwich. “So you're a LaCosta?”

  “Yep.”

  “You'll always be a LaCosta?”

  “Yep.”

  His light eyes darkened. “Mrs. Dylan LaCosta?”

  She let out a laugh. “What else?”

  “Oh, I don't know. Maybe Shay LaCosta without the Dylan.”

  Shay ate her last bite, leaped off the stool, and stood in front of her husband. Pressing her palm to his shoulder, she searched his handsome face. “There's no such thing.” She turned to walk away.

  “Hey, where ya going?”

  “To take a shower.” She lifted her sleek pumps from the glossy tiles. Dangling them, she ambled to the back of the house, desperate to undress. She couldn't wait to strip off her work clothes and get under some nice hot water. Her muscles were tight and achy.

  She sighed. What a day. Busy as hell. She really should've cancelled on her father. But she hadn't. And now it was over, thank God. She had no room for distractions. She needed to concentrate her energy on one man, and that man wasn't her father. Nope. Right now, only Dylan truly mattered. All right, her father mattered too. Maybe they didn't relate. But he still mattered. Okay, enough about the family. She needed to drag her butt into the shower and get some energy. A gorgeous man sat in her kitchen waiting to be corrupted.

  Last night hadn't gone exactly as planned. She had heard her brother-in-law's voice. Something urgent and most likely work-related had come up, otherwise Christian would've called or left a message. She hadn't been upset. Okay, his timing had really sucked. But she understood the demands of a business. That's why she'd left them to do their thing while she'd done hers, which was to fantasize about Dylan and what they were going to do when he returned. Her imagination had worked so hard she'd worn herself out and fallen asleep.

  Dylan. Listening to him talk about his company, his family. The way he took care of his folks, looked out for his brother. He encompassed everything she loved and admired in a person, even that nasty stubbornness. He had a strong mind and he used it. She should've realized it sooner. Dylan wouldn't purposely deprive her of happiness. She needed to value his feelings, respect his views. Last night, they'd come so close to making love. Tonight...

  “Are you indecent?” Dylan unlatched the etched-glass shower door, stunning her with his naked presence. Deliciously bare, he smiled a smile that rocked her off balance.

  “What took you so long?” She stepped out of the doorway and allowed him to join her in the lush shower with plenty of room to spare.

  “I'm sorry about last night.” He took her wet hand. His gaze ran down her sudsy body, and he ground his lower lip. “Definitely my loss.”

  Her heart hammered hard. They hadn't showered together in forever. With Dylan crowding her space, she was ready to forget the past and focus on the present. Naked with the love of her life, nothing could top that. Nothing except maybe Dylan's blue eyes molten with ready-to-unleash passion. He still had the same effect on her, like they were new to the game. Only they weren't.

  She knew what to do to him, and pressed her wet breasts to his chest. She was slippery; he, solid and warm. She looped her arms around his neck and smiled into his eyes. “My loss too.”

  Dylan pulled her under the water and rubbed his now full erection over her belly. Soapy suds streamed down her body. Her fingers tangled in his drenched hair, and she found herself fighting back tears. “I'm sorry,” she said, with a crack in her voice. Her face nuzzled his neck.

  Moving them out of the spray, he held her by her upper arms. Long, dark wet lashes framed his pretty eyes. Water dripped from his cut physique. “Shhh,” he said, pressing a finger to her lips. His biceps muscle corded and her gaze went to the round swell, to the sexy tri
bal armband tattoo.

  * * * *

  He pressed a kiss to her lips. At first it was tentative, but when Shay's mouth parted, he went for it. No more skirting the issue. He wanted her. She wanted him. Time to crank up the heat, take her where they needed to go, to sexual oblivion where nothing but pleasure mattered. They'd tackle life later. After he tackled her body. The only thing that fit into his brain was having this beautiful woman. His woman. His wife.

  Dylan sucked her bottom lip. Sucked the top. God, he missed that mouth. His tongue mated with hers. Her moans encouraged him, and he took the kiss to a whole other level.

  Enveloped in each other's arms, their mouths made love while their bodies grew hot and reactive. Her passionate kiss tugged on his soul, uncoiling his deepest emotions. He lost control and suffocated her with his lips. His kisses were scorching and desperate. Tightening his wide grasp on her ribcage, he crushed her body against his and slid his dick between her thighs.

  Shay broke the kiss and gasped for air. “I can't breathe.” She dragged in a ragged breath.

  He backed off instantly. “I'm sorry, baby,” he said, softening his hold. He was so hungry for her. “You make me this way.” He pushed long, sticky strands of hair away from her face.

  His gaze drifted down to her breasts. He would never get enough of that body. Never. “Let me bathe you,” he said. He pumped body wash into his hands and rubbed them together. Smiling at her lazy expression, he pressed a kiss to her mouth and spread soap across her shoulders.

  His fingers worked the cream to a foam. Her eyes were now closed, lips divided, her face reveling in his touch. Dylan's hands glided lower. He stopped at her breasts and cupped them. He pressed, squeezed and molded.

  Systematically, he worked his way around her body, washing, teasing her flesh. He moved behind her and soaped up her back. Kneeling, he ran his hands all over her shapely legs. He traced her ankles, massaged her calves, felt up her thighs. Her ass was right there in his face, so pretty, so round. He pressed a kiss to each cheek.

  His breathing grew deeper as he came to his feet. He squeezed handfuls of sweet booty and groaned. “I love this ass.” He soaped it all up.

  He poured out a glob of vanilla-scented shampoo and massaged it into Shay's scalp. Her head dropped back and she moaned in delight. “Feels good?” He used his fingertips to drive away her stress.

  Dylan lifted the showerhead from the cradle and brought it over her. He rinsed out the shampoo and ran water over her sudsy frame. Pausing at her breasts, he let the warm stream tickle her beaded nipples. He brought it lower and pointed it between her legs. Shay's hips rocked forward. “You like that?”

  Her eyes popped open. She tightened her fist around his straining erection and stroked it. “I like this.”

  That was it. He returned the showerhead to its proper place, and with both hands, he possessively took hold of Shay. “I'm gonna die if I don't have you.”

  She grabbed his face and hungrily kissed him. Taking his hand, she pulled him out of the water. Shay turned her back to him and pressed her palms against the glass block. “I don't want you to die,” she said, tossing her long wet hair and arching her body out to him.

  He groaned and stepped up behind her. His hands splayed over her back and he buried himself between her thighs. One hand fondled her breasts while the other explored down below. He found what he wanted and slipped his finger inside her.

  “Take me,” she cried out, with desperation in her voice. Who was he to disobey? He grabbed her hipbones and prodded her opening. “Yes,” she moaned.

  “You feel so good,” Dylan grumbled into her spine. He held her still and pumped with fluid strokes. “God, baby.” He slowed his pace, savoring every sweet crevice. Her body drove at his. She took him harder and deeper, deeper and harder.

  “Oh, God,” she cried out, spreading her fingers across the glass. He made love to her with all the emotion he had pent up inside. Pleasure coursed through his soul and all he could think about was how much he loved Shay. He plunged into her again and again until she cried out with her own desperate climax. Her tremulous frame rocked and convulsed in his arms. Dylan came with such force it rattled every bone in his body.

  Her spent weight dropped into his arms. His torso lay over her while he gathered his strength. With his arm looped under her, he lifted and straightened her limp body. She turned around and looked up at him with emotional, glassy eyes. “I love you,” she said. Teardrops spilled down her face.

  Shay still loved him. Thank God! His hands encircled her waist. He kissed her forehead, the tip of her nose, her pillowy lips. “I love you, too,” he said, with raw emotion. “But we're not finished yet.”

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  * * *

  Chapter 5

  Relax, baby, in a sexy Jacuzzi.

  Shay smacked the shrilling alarm clock for the third time. She burrowed her face into her pillow. Argh. Why couldn't it be Saturday? No such luck. So she needed to get her butt out of bed. Now.

  Good thing Dylan had already vacated the premises. With him in bed, she definitely would've been late for work, not that it wouldn't have been worth it. Lucky for her, she could have him whenever she wanted. After the way he'd taken her last night—thoroughly and repeatedly—she should've been satisfied. But no. Her mind already plotted the next encounter. She had to admit, it was fun figuring out different ways to ravage him. Okay, she'd benefited too. This time, no matter how great he made her feel, no matter how many whispers of I love you, Dylan would not be captain.

  Every muscle in her body felt nimble. Serene. At peace. The black cloud had all but lifted. Her heart danced, and her soul knew that today was better, that they would be okay. Their marriage would not only survive, it would be stronger, and so would they.

  The way Dylan had made love to her spoke volumes. Still, she'd continue her seduction. Yes, she wanted to make love again and again. She also wanted to talk, come to a new understanding.

  It would've been nice to stay in bed, recount last night a gazillion more times, watch Jerry Springer for the hell of it, and just plain chill out. When had she last called in sick? Never. Not even when she really needed to. Tempting thought, but not Shay's style. People depended on her. And that's how she liked it.

  Despite only a few hours of sleep, she felt adequately rested. Good. She needed to get through the next ten hours with her faculties in check. After work, she could do whatever. She rolled to Dylan's side of the bed and smelled his pillow. Mmm. The anticipation of more sex held almost as much appeal as the act itself. Almost. Knowing what awaited, she could easily breeze through the day, no problem.

  Breeze? Thank you, Donna, for making the day anything but. Poor girl. Model employee. Efficient assistant. When she walked into Shay's office after lunch, her eyes puffy and swollen ... well, not much work got done after that. Pregnant? Shay couldn't believe it. Donna? No freaking way.

  Bad enough Donna wasn't married. She still lived at home and had to deal with her parents, who weren't the most progressive people. Shay had listened without passing judgment. She'd offered empathy, understanding, but no advice. Only Donna could decide her next move.

  * * * *

  Lying naked in the spa, Shay ran through her day, and Donna's predicament. She eased her body into the whirlpool and let the warm swirls soothe her skin. With her head propped against the curved ledge, she indulged in the private sanctuary of her backyard. Dylan would be home shortly, and she could hardly wait.

  Sipping vintage merlot, she gazed up at a dark speckled sky. Next to Donna, she didn't have any troubles. Donna. Shay couldn't stop thinking about her. She worried. A lot. Donna wasn't a strong woman.

  “Shay?” Dylan's deep voice echoed.

  “Out here,” she yelled back.

  He strolled onto the patio. When he saw her, a big grin smeared his lips. “Party's out here tonight?”

  “Party's in here,” she said, slapping the water. Get naked and get in here. Fast.

&n
bsp; Dylan swaggered over to the spa. He bent and kissed her, cupped a naked breast. “How was your day?” He rose and began to undress, deftly undoing his shirt buttons. He tugged his shirttail from his pants, working the last two buttons. Slowly, he peeled away his shirt, leaving only a white athletic tee.

  “Better now.” She forgot about her day. And focused on her man's sexy attributes. She loved how his undershirt exposed all the key parts, but when he pulled it up over his head, she held her breath and stifled a heady reaction.

  He continued his striptease. Luckily, thick hearty foliage enveloped the patio. Their acre of land sat well away from prying eyes. The only one watching was her, and he seemed real intent on giving a good show. He shed everything but his smile and stood before her, tall and proud. Stepping into the spa, he leisurely sank that macho glory, and finally, she could breathe normally again.

  His head disappeared beneath the white whirlpool and came up under her. Shay's body shuddered with surprise. Delight. His mouth went up her thigh, across her lap, over her breasts and to her chin, where he placed a tender kiss.

  Water dripping into his eyes, he put an arm on each side of her head and stared at her. God, what a gorgeous husband. Dark. Intense. Corrupt. He leaned forward, and this time he laid a mind-blowing kiss on her. “Hey,” he said when their mouths parted.

  Five years and his kiss still boiled her blood. She needed his heat, needed that burn to feel alive. Loving him. Being loved by him. That's what her life required. Caught between his hard chest and wide arms, Shay was a lucky woman. She'd married the love of her life. “What's up?”

  “I thought this day would never end.” He nibbled her jaw. “This is all I could think about.” He kissed her longer, harder. “Did you have fun last night?” He sucked her bottom lip, practically swallowing it.

  Her cells sizzled. She loved when he kissed her like that, utterly consuming. He had so much to give. She took every bit. With a lazy grin, she pressed her fingertip to his chin, over a small scar that he'd had for decades. “The question is did you have fun?” She poked the tiny dent.