HOW TO BE THE PERFECT GIRLFRIEND

by Heather MacAllister

  "No!" He lunged for her wrist and held it above her head. "I'm not proud of the hall incident—"

  "I'm not proud either. I'm telling you, fifteen more seconds—"

  "I have very little control left." The hot look he gave her didn't leave a doubt in her mind.

  Oh, she loved the power she had over him. And she loved being out of the plastic wrap, too. Loved the feel of the satin lining and the turned in fur edges rubbing against her still sensitive breasts.

  "Fifteen seconds," she whispered and reached out to stroke the long, hard length of him through his suit trousers. "A quickie. It'll take the edge off."

  Simon shuddered, or rather the elevator shuddered to a halt.

  Sara closed her coat as he positioned himself to one side, giving her a strained look of shocked lust. "You don't know what you're doing!" he ground out as the doors opened.

  Two men in the middle of a conversation stepped on and absently acknowledged Simon, who smoothly stepped in front of Sara.

  One of the men glanced her way, but his attention was captured by the other one.

  "So you think ten o'clock?"

  "Maybe we ought to try for lunch."

  "Take up too much time."

  "But if the meeting doesn't start until ten and we go over, then there's the awkwardness of ending at lunch time…"

  Sara slipped her arm from the voluminous sleeve of the coat and reached through the opening toward Simon's rear and pinched.

  A crackle of plastic was her only response.

  She'd kind of pinched him hard. Maybe she should rub it to make it better. So she did. She started with light circles, feeling his glutes tense beneath her hand.

  She couldn't wait to see him naked. At the thought, her hand began a more up-and-down rhythmic motion.

  He shifted his weight from side to side and finally grabbed her hand without turning around.

  The elevator stopped. "Our floor," he said.

  Sara didn't recognize his voice and barely avoided flashing the other men as she got off the elevator.

  Simon held her arm tightly as he strode down a hallway much like the one they'd been in upstairs.

  When he stopped abruptly in front of a door, Sara nearly barrelled into him. "Hold this." He thrust the plastic wrap at her. Still grasping her hand—like she was going anywhere—he fumbled with his keys.

  "C'mon…" He swore.

  Finally opening the door, he stopped just inside and stared at the burglar alarm, breathing heavily. "I can barely remember the code." He jabbed at a series of numbers, then hauled her inside and up against him, kicking the door shut with his foot.

  He kissed her wildly, his hands roaming her body beneath her coat.

  Grasping her hair at the nape, he pulled her head back. His eyes glittered. "You wanted fifteen seconds. Okay, you've got fifteen seconds to pick your spot. On the bed, on the floor or up against the wall. I don't care."

  He released her and pushed the coat off her shoulders and onto the floor.

  His gaze swept over her flushed body and then he shrugged out of his suit jacket and jerked at his tie. "I lied. You may not get fifteen seconds."

  "Then I choose the bed."

  "That way." He nodded to the doorway across the living room. "And, Sara?"

  "Yes?"

  "Run."

  * * *

  10

  « ^ »

  She may not have run, but Sara did move very quickly and Simon was right behind her.

  She reached the edge of the bed—a huge thing with cool, gray bedding—and turned around. "Simon?"

  He gave her a look as he pulled his belt through the loops. A hot, focused look.

  She was equally focused, but not so focused as to forget certain necessary rituals. "Have you got a condom, Simon? Or do you need to borrow some of my plastic wrap?"

  He didn't crack a smile or stop looking at her. He did jerk open the nightstand drawer, reach inside and toss a generous handful next to the lamp.

  "I do like the way you think."

  He plucked one from the pile and ripped it open with his teeth.

  In the same spirit, Sara ripped his shirt off his shoulders and that was as far as she got.

  Simon hauled her to him and fused their mouths together. His hands covered her hips and he pressed them deliberately against him.

  Twin groans mingled in their throats. Sara had spent so long in a state of arousal, she'd thought Simon was never going to assuage all the throbbing and aching.

  For long moments, they didn't move as Simon drove her mindless with drugging kisses.

  Their desire for each other fed on itself, and far too quickly the kisses weren't enough. Sara wanted his hands on her and she wanted them on her now. "Touch me," she whispered, not at all sure he heard her, not at all sure she'd spoken the words aloud.

  It didn't matter, because she felt his hand at her breast, and then his mouth. "Si—" The rest was lost as the air left her lungs and her knees threatened to collapse. They may have, but Simon held her so tightly against him she was in no danger of falling.

  Falling onto the floor, that is. Falling into a vast pool where nothing existed but the sensations he was causing was a distinct possibility.

  He raised his head and cupped her face in his hands. Their eyes locked for a potent moment, and then he urgently kissed her again, all the while backing her toward the bed.

  She clutched at his shoulders as he scooped her up and threw her down on the bed.

  Instantly, he was with her, pulling her hips close to his, settling between her legs. Sara started tearing at his shirt, but he made a sound, a growl, really, before he laced their fingers together and raised them above her head. Drawing back he gazed down at her, his eyes glazed with passion. She'd never seen that expression on a man's face before. It was primitive and elemental.

  It was raw and it called to the very essence of her femaleness.

  Simon entered her in one long, smooth thrust, filling her, claiming her.

  She gasped softly because though she'd been ready, more than ready, it had been unexpected. Then again, it hadn't been. Not with him looking at her that way.

  As he began to move, Simon closed his eyes and caught his lower lip between his teeth.

  The explosion of heat surprised her, blasting her close to the edge. Not already … it wasn't possible. It had never happened this quickly…

  But Simon, his head now buried in the pillow just above her, relentlessly increased the rhythm and Sara found she was already teetering on the precipice. She rocked her hips toward him, encouraging him to surge hard against her. When he slowed, she bit his shoulder.

  He sucked the breath between his teeth and pounded her over the edge, shuddering his way after her.

  She was falling and flying all at once, spiraling through the sky. Sara felt as though she'd swallowed fireworks—the whole grand finale on the Fourth of July. At the very least, she figured she'd burst a blood vessel.

  And it went on and on, waves rippling through her, each one better than the last. She had to remind herself to breathe and when she did, she knew it had been a while as air rushed into her oxygen-starved lungs and she saw spots behind her eyelids.

  She drew another huge breath, feeling wonderfully alive. She would never doubt Hayden's wisdom again. She would get Missy a used fur coat for a wedding gift. Or at least a lifetime supply of plastic wrap.

  Simon hadn't moved and Sara enjoyed the weight of him pressing her back into bed. His breathing was still fast and hard, but slowing. She matched hers to his.

  He'd been desperate for her, pure and simple. He'd been quiet on the surface, but oh, she'd been well rewarded for cracking that outward composure.

  She rubbed his back, smiling as her fingers encountered cotton instead of skin.

  "I'm sorry," he whispered next to her ear, then kissed it with exquisite tenderness.

  So he hadn't taken off his shirt because he'd wanted her right then and there. How cool was that?


  He unlaced their fingers and brushed her hair off her forehead. "Sara, I'm so, so very sorry."

  Sorry? Sara turned her head as he dropped a kiss on her temple. "I'm not."

  "I am." He kissed her cheek. "Very sorry." Her neck. "Sorry, sorry, sorry." A variety of other sensitive spots.

  His face, when she could see it, was anguished.

  "What are you sorry for?"

  He grimaced. "I was no better than an animal."

  "Oh, yeah." She closed her eyes at the memory she wouldn't ever forget.

  "I was selfish and that was inexcusable. I can only say that I was just so damn desperate for you that I completely lost it." He sounded so guilty.

  Another time, she might use that guilt, but not now. "Simon."

  "I'd been thinking about you for days, and then there you were and you were naked and I … I'm so sorry." He nuzzled her neck, kissing the hollow beneath her jaw.

  "You were provoked."

  "No excuse."

  "I enjoyed provoking you. Simon." She nudged his head up until he met her eyes. "Simon, never apologize for giving a woman the big 'O.'"

  He blinked. "The big 'O'?"

  Sara smiled and nodded. "One gigantic 'O,' followed by a couple of impressive 'O's,' a few medium 'O's,' then a whole bunch of little 'O's' just trailing after."

  "You … 'O'd'?"

  "Oh, yeah. I cheery 'O'd' all over the place."

  He searched her face, not sure if he could believe her. Something in her sated expression finally convinced him and he grinned with complete male satisfaction. It was great to see. "You'll forgive me for not noticing since I was dealing with my own big 'O.'"

  "Yeah, I dealt with it, too. Hmm." She stretched beneath him. "You were outta control." And it was her turn to smile with satisfaction.

  "You're pleased with yourself."

  "Sure am." She traced her finger over his jaw until it found the little dimple in his chin. "I drove you wild."

  "You drove me insane. I've been harboring this incredible desire for you—"

  "Just say you had the hots for me."

  "Red hots. Anyway, I do have somewhat more finesse at my disposal and I want the first time I make love to you to be special."

  She sighed dreamily. "It was."

  "That was sex. Primitive mating."

  Sara could stand some more primitive mating. "So that's what I've been doing wrong. I've been settling for lukewarm lovemaking when I could have been having hot, primitive sex."

  "When I make love to you, it'll be hot." He withdrew from her, then shifted until he sat up. "It'll be sizzling."

  He spoke matter-of-factly, as though it was a given.

  A shudder went through her. And she'd thought she was all O'd out. Sara propped herself on one elbow and pointed to his feet. "You seem very sure of yourself for someone who didn't even take off his shoes."

  Simon pulled his shirt over his head without unbuttoning the only two buttons it had left, grinned and kicked off his shoes.

  "And you seem very blasé for someone whose clothes are not only not in this apartment, but aren't even on this floor."

  Sara's fingers flew to her mouth. "I'd forgotten about that."

  Simon shucked off his pants. "Don't worry. You won't be needing them for a while."

  "You know, just give me a roll of aluminum foil and I'm good to go."

  He laughed, a full throated, throw-back-the-head laugh. Sara had never heard him do that before. He was relaxed. Confident. Sexy. And he was about to make love to her again.

  Did it get any better than this?

  Still chuckling, Simon unstrapped his watch and set it on the nightstand, then slipped out of his boxers.

  Even naked, he looked elegant. He looked nude. Like an artist's nude. She just looked naked. But, hey. He didn't seem to mind.

  "I was wondering when you'd get around to taking off those boxers. I've been naked in front of you for hours."

  "A half hour, tops."

  "Still, there's a significant exposure inequity, here."

  He reached for the edge of the comforter and tugged it out from under her. "I'll make it up to you."

  Sara slid under the sheets, high thread count sheets, she noticed.

  When Simon tried to climb in after her, she stopped him. "Uh-uh. Stand up and turn around."

  Giving her a quizzical look, he did so. She sighed a happy little sigh, thinking of all the paper jams Hayden had resorted to and then still had to imagine what he looked like. And now Sara knew, knew for all time. "Oh, thank you," she said fervently.

  "Looking for a bruise?"

  "I didn't pinch you hard enough to make a bruise. Besides, I rubbed it all better. No, I was just admiring the view."

  It pleased Simon to know that Sara found him attractive and wasn't afraid to show it. He turned and got into bed with her. "I've got a pretty good view, too." He ran a hand from her shoulder to her calf. Her skin was warm and soft and still flushed from the sex and possibly the coat.

  She'd completely blown his mind. And no matter how many O's she claimed, he, well, "O'd" her. He wanted to see her surrender, see her face when she was completely caught up in passion.

  He wanted to savor the way she tasted, explore the texture of her skin and hear the sounds she made when she didn't know she was making them.

  He wanted to find her hidden freckles, learn about the tiny scar on her hip, and discover the secret places that made her writhe.

  He wanted to watch her sleep. He wanted to wake up next to her and discover whether she was a morning person or adorably grumpy. He wanted to love her awake and bring her coffee in bed.

  He wanted her in his life, now and always.

  This woman was his.

  Simon drew a shuddering breath.

  "What is it?" Sara asked.

  It was too soon—for her, not for him. But the longer Simon looked at her, lying all tousled in his bed, her lips reddened from his kisses, the more the words struggled to burst free.

  "It's jet lag, isn't it?" She sat up, unselfconsciously letting the sheet fall to her waist. "You must be exhausted, and, well," she looked down with false modesty, "drained."

  He cupped her cheek. "I have to tell you something before…"

  "What?" She drew the sheet up, her voice filled with instant wariness.

  He smoothed his thumb against her cheek. "I'm going to make love to you … because I'm in love with you."

  Her lips parted and her eyes went soft. "Simon…"

  "Shh." He placed a finger on her lips. "I know it's too soon, but I wanted you to know." Sara blinked back tears. "I didn't want you to cry!"

  She waved her hand and sniffed. "I fell in love with you when you didn't ask about the coat."

  The coat? Just a few minutes ago? "Not until then? I've loved you almost from the beginning."

  "But I didn't want to fall in love with you!" she wailed.

  He was floored. "Why not?"

  "I didn't want to get hurt. I know you have responsibilities with Kayla and her mother and…" She trailed off.

  "What?"

  "I don't think I can handle them always coming first."

  "They won't," he assured her.

  "They have so far," Sara said quietly. "You drop whatever you're doing, interrupt any conversation—any kiss—and instantly give them your complete attention."

  He remembered that interrupted kiss. "Kayla hasn't developed a lot of social skills yet."

  Sara gave him a direct look. "Joanna has."

  Yes, Joanna. "I realize it seems as though Joanna is manipulating me, but I'm aware of what she's doing."

  "Then why do you let her do it?"

  He exhaled. "It's easier and … I don't want to tick her off to the point that she doesn't let me see Kayla anymore."

  "Oh, Simon." Sara looked stricken. "That's emotional blackmail."

  "I can put up with it for a few years. The thing is, Kayla needs me, needs a stabilizing male influence and I'd rather be an active part of her
life than leave it to some stranger when Joanna starts dating again. She doesn't date yet, you know."

  "Why would she? She wants you."

  Sara couldn't be serious. "No way."

  "You sure?"

  They stared at each other.

  Simon considered Joanna. Though he didn't often think of it, he could remember their college days and the way Joanna behaved toward him then was completely different from the way she did now. "College was another lifetime ago. We're not even the same people. Trust me, now we're only tolerating one another."

  He tugged at the sheet she still clutched to herself. "Besides, I'm in love with you." He took Sara in his arms and rocked her gently back and forth. "I'll never purposely hurt you but I'm not perfect. There are bound to be bumps in the road."

  "I know."

  There was silence and he enjoyed the feel of her in his arms.

  And then she chuckled. "Why look. There's a bump right now. And a pretty impressive bump it is, too."

  As he kissed her back into the pillows, Simon wished all bumps could be smoothed so enjoyably. He was convinced that all Sara needed was reassurance, which he was more than happy to provide.

  First, he reassured her mouth, then her cheeks, then her earlobes and the curve of her neck. Her breasts needed lots of reassuring.

  "Simon!" She shuddered his name, so he kissed his way to the crook of her elbow.

  She twisted toward him. "What are you doing?"

  "Kissing your elbow. You have nice elbows."

  She opened her eyes and looked at him in exasperation.

  "Relax. Enjoy. I'm making love to you and I intend to take my time."

  "Well, my elbows are feeling plenty loved, I can tell you."

  He chuckled and skimmed his hand over her abdomen to the curve of her waist. His fingers stroked the skin at the top of her hip. "How about your back? Does your back feel loved?"

  "My back is just fine. It wouldn't know what to do with the attention." She tried to move his hand, but he wouldn't let her.

  "Sara—has a man ever made love to your back?"

  She gave him a startled look. "Why would he do that?"

  Simon moved closer and draped his hand lower, low enough to draw lazy circles in the small of her back. He smiled. "Roll over and I'll show you."