Scandalized!: Risqué Business

by Lori Foster

Delaney squinted, then gasped and tugged on Nick’s hand.

  “Don’t they know they’re in full view of everyone?” she asked, not caring if she sounded like a naive goody-goody. “That curtain doesn’t hide anything.”

  He glanced at her, then followed her gaze to the alcoves where couples were silhouetted in various intimate poses.

  “I’m sure they know. They probably don’t care, though.” Nick’s eyes narrowed in speculation. “Why? Does it bother you?”

  “I’m not the one with my bare butt flashing like that,” she said with a feigned casual shrug. “If it doesn’t bother them, it’s definitely not a problem for me.”

  Unable to stop herself, she glanced at the couple again, their movements in sync with the pulse of the music and lights. It was almost like a performance.

  “That’s a part of the turn-on,” she commented. “Knowing they’re on display.”

  “That,” he agreed after he gave his name to the gorilla at the base of a gated staircase, “and the thrill of skirting the law. Indecent exposure, lewd and lascivious acts in public etcetera.”

  The bouncer, so big Delaney wanted to poke his bicep to see if it was real, opened the gate for them. She felt like Alice in an X-rated Wonderland. Nothing here was like she was used to back in her real world. Nick’s long look at her made her feel as if it was her bare butt on display.

  It was a look that brushed aside all the makeup, the carefully constructed facade, and delved right into her soul. He bent down, pressing his mouth to her ear. The soft heat of his breath sent a shiver down her back.

  “That’s lust,” he said. His words were soft, but she heard them easily over the pounding music, the cacophony of voices. Even more, she felt them move through her body like a teasing finger, stirring up a grabby, desperate desire. “Raw, unbridled, ‘don’t give a damn who watches,’ ‘do me now’ lust. That’s what I write about. The erotic dance of a man and woman. The exploration to see how far they can take each other, how wild their senses will make them.”

  Ignoring the patient man mountain, Nick tilted his head to one side and gave her another of those long, sensual, bone-melting looks.

  “You can concede now, if you’d like. Without the fling, no actual sex between us. Just admit that great sex is all about lust.”

  Delaney was so turned-on, it took a whole ten seconds before his words even penetrated the lust clouding her brain. This was all about the bet?

  “You’ve got to be kidding, right?” she asked in shock. She’d never conceded in her life. She’d rarely lost, so the concept of just giving up and walking away was unfathomable. Of course, all her challenges had been in the realm of academics, so she was admittedly out of her comfort zone here. She glanced at the alcove again, the woman’s head now thrown back as she moved fast and frenzied to her own beat, rather than the music.

  Nick followed her gaze. “You sure? I honestly don’t see how you’ll find an argument to beat mine.”

  Delaney didn’t, either. But she’d find a rebuttal. Eventually. For now, she just had to hold her own. And, of course, keep from jumping on Nick and begging him to relieve some of the sexual tension wound tight in her belly.

  “I’m sure of my point,” she said slowly, meeting his eyes. Again, there was no gloating or glee in his clear gaze, just a question, and maybe a lurking respect. “And while I’ll give you credit for finding a lust-filled scenario, how do you know they’re not a couple who simply get off on the idea of public sex? I don’t think they’d appreciate our interrupting them to ask if this is their first date.”

  “Interesting argument.” His grin was slow, wicked and tempting. With a nod, he waved her through the gate the bouncer still held and said, “Then let’s continue to enjoy our date, shall we?”

  *

  NICK FOLLOWED DELANEY up the carpeted stairs, his gaze trailing down the enticing curve of her back, which was bare in her silky little dress, to the mouth-watering sway of her hips.

  The look on her face when she’d seen the couple getting it on in the alcove had been priceless. Nick hadn’t planned for that type of thing to happen, but he’d known there was a strong possibility. This club had a reputation for turning a blind eye to the patrons’ proclivities, as long as there was a pseudo-out for the management, like claiming the alcoves were for conversation and the curtains afforded privacy.

  He honestly hadn’t intended to offer her the chance to call off their bet, but he’d felt like such a creep, hauling an innocent sheep through a throng of horny wolves, that he’d said it before thinking.

  “Angel,” he told the hostess when they reached the top of the stairs.

  As his hand curved over the sweet, barely there curve of her hip as they followed the hostess, he was damned glad she’d thrown the offer back in his face.

  Not that he felt intimacy or any of the drivel she purported to be so vital. But he had to admit, only to himself, he was more interested in Delaney than he’d been in any woman in the past.

  Nick and Delaney murmured their thanks to the hostess as she indicated their seats. He glanced around and nodded. Perfect.

  Their booth was secluded, back in the corner by a glassed-in balcony, with a clear view of the dance floor. The glass blocked the sound, so it was like watching a virtual orgy of bodies, all tangled together in a sexual rite.

  He glanced at Delaney to see if she’d noticed, but she was gaping at the caged dancers on this floor. Four women, all well oiled and limber, strutted their stuff around chrome poles. Other than the automatic guy-appreciation of all the sleekly toned female skin, Nick was pretty indifferent to the show. But Delaney wasn’t. Color washed her cheeks and her eyes were huge as she slid into the dimly lit booth.

  Nick watched her give a little wiggle, like she was imagining herself wrapped around one of the poles, sliding up and down. He imagined what she’d look like, those glorious long legs bare and slick, and shifted in his seat. Damn. A roomful of half-naked women and he had no reaction, just the thought of Delaney’s bare legs and he got hard. So much for indifference.

  “Do you come here often?” Delaney asked in an obvious attempt to diffuse the sharp edges of sexual tension spiking around them. As soon as the words were out, she gave him a rueful look and rolled her eyes. “That’s a pickup line, isn’t it? Must be the atmosphere, putting clichés in my head.”

  Seated next to her on the bench seat, Nick looked at the meat market scene below and gave a laugh. She was right.

  “I’ve only been here once before,” he admitted. “It was for research. Hopefully the atmosphere didn’t leak clichés into my writing.”

  She glanced around, a cute furrow creasing her brow. Then her mouth made a little O, the movement sending a shaft of lust straight through Nick. Which was more fascinating? Her mouth or her mind?

  “Hangman’s Noose, right?” She set the menu down and leaned forward, a move he’d come to recognize as her discussion pose. “It was brilliant. You used the setting in such a powerful way, creating drama and a…well, subtle terror. There was nothing clichéd about that book.”

  Oh, yeah, Nick grinned in pleasure. Her mind. Hands down. Of course, it didn’t hurt that it came in such gorgeous packaging, that luscious mouth included. He reached out to trace a pattern on the back of her hand, noting the perfection of her manicure. Delaney was obviously a woman who knew how to put herself together.

  “And yet you claimed the love scenes were…how did you put it? Emotionally flat?”

  She pressed her lips together for a second. He thought it was out of shame until he saw the humor dancing in her eyes.

  “To be accurate, I said they were erotically charged, but emotionally flat. You might pout less if you’d remember the first part, too.”

  Pout? Nick felt like patting his chest to see if he’d grown boobs. “I’m not a girl, I don’t pout.”

  “What do you call it, then? You obviously got upset over my reviews, although why they’d catch your attention over reviews from the major newsp
apers and magazines baffles me. You were so bent out of shape, you traveled to the East Bay to confront me on TV.” She arched a brow. “You even had that whole bet angle worked out before you even set foot on that soundstage.”

  “Not all of it,” he admitted as his finger trailed up the soft skin of her arm to her shoulder, bare beneath the slender wispy silk strap. “If you recall, you’re the one who came up with the actual parameters of the bet, how to decide a winner and all that.”

  “Just like you wanted me to.”

  Score another for her side. He didn’t bother agreeing, since they both knew she was right. Instead he slid his wandering hand around the curve of her neck, letting her curls slide through his fingers.

  “There’s plenty of other things I want you to do,” he murmured. “How about we see if you’re open to any of those?”

  Heat flashed in the brown depths of her eyes, like melting chocolate. He waited to see if she’d pull back. Instead she licked her lips and tilted her head to one side, as if deciphering a puzzle. He could see her pulse as it beat a nervous staccato against the deliciously creamy flesh of her throat.

  “Why don’t you show me a few,” she finally said in a soft, husky whisper.

  Nick barely heard her over the noise in the club, but his body reacted instantly.

  Without a word, his mouth swooped down to take hers, a slick slide over her glossy sweet lips. She tasted…perfect. He’d never felt anything so perfect. While he was still absorbing that shock, she turned voracious. One hand behind his head, the other curled into his chest, Delaney’s mouth took over, sending him on a wild, edgy, pleasure-filled ride.

  Nick grabbed on with both hands and made the most of her passion. His hands delved deep in her hair before he slid one down her body, slow and gentle. His fingers skimmed her breast, reveling in her swift intake of breath. His palm curved over the delicate indention of her waist, then slid down farther, to the luxurious wonder of her long, smooth leg.

  Nick groaned against her mouth as his hand curled over her bare thigh. She squirmed so her leg angled toward him, sliding the other along his calf. He pressed closer, shifting his body to shield them from the rest of the room. Her hands gripped his shoulders, kneading his skin like a contented cat. He wanted to see if he could make her bare those claws, drive her wild until passion overcame that sexy brain of hers.

  Suddenly obsessed with making her want him as much as he wanted her, Nick deepened the kiss. While he explored the delicate depths of her mouth, his hand slid up her leg. The heavy fabric of her beaded dress was in sharp contrast to her silky skin as his fingers delved beneath it, searching for the damp heat guaranteed to drive him over the edge.

  Fingers skimmed, once, then twice, along the lacy edge of her silk panties. Delaney’s own fingers stabbed into his shoulders, and one hand flew down to grab his wrist in protest. As his dick pressed in painful demand against the fly of his jeans, Nick slid his tongue along the edge of her lips, soothing her with soft, gentle kisses until her grip loosened.

  Slowly, so slowly it was killing him, Nick slipped his fingers under the elastic lace of her panties. He gave a soul-deep sigh of pleasure as he found the damp curls awaiting him there, her heat offering an erotic welcome.

  He felt her gasp against his mouth, her body stiffening, even as she scooted closer to his seeking fingers. Nick dipped his finger, just the tip, into her juicy heat and swirled it along the swollen oversensitive flesh his mouth watered to taste. Her whimper made his dick spasm in response. He needed her. Now.

  But not here.

  Regretfully, Nick slowly pulled his hand away and gripped her thigh again.

  Tongues tangled, lips teased, teeth nipped. His senses filled with her. His hand twisted in her hair. The sane, domesticated part of his brain warned they were in public, and on the verge of putting on a show similar to the one in the downstairs alcove. The wild, horny part of him screamed it didn’t give a damn. He needed to feel her body against his, to see how she fit, what she felt like.

  He was going to go insane if he didn’t. Soon.

  Knowing if he didn’t do it now, he wouldn’t be able to, Nick pulled his mouth away from hers. Her soft moan of protest made him want to shoot that sane voice and go for the gusto.

  “Let’s get out of here,” he said.

  Huge brown eyes stared up at him, some indefinable emotion lurking beneath the desire. Then she blinked and it was like watching a window open. He could see the exact second her brain kicked back into gear, shoving the desire off to the side and reasoning through what’d just happened.

  No wonder he was the one arguing on the side of lust. This woman was all about control, which only made him wilder for that moment when he made her lose it completely.

  “Don’t we need to order drinks? You’d mentioned a drink minimum,” she asked softly, her voice scratchy and hoarse, like she needed to clear it but wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction.

  He was satisfied anyway, and knew his gloating smile showed it. Pulling away was hard, but he let go of her thigh and reached for his wallet. Extracting a bill to cover their unordered drinks, he tossed it on the table and slid out of the booth.

  “C’mon, let’s go,” he said. He held out his hand, waiting for her choice. They both knew it was more than a question of if she was ready to leave the club. The bet—the only one he cared about at the moment—loomed between them.

  He wasn’t going to beg, but it scared him that he wanted to. He watched Delaney take a deep breath. Then she took his hand and slid from the booth.

  “You’re right,” she agreed. “It’s time.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  IF NICK HAD figured on acting out a sex-in-the-back-of-the-limo fantasy, he hid his disappointment. Delaney wasn’t doing nearly as well with her own emotions. She wanted to be pissed. Hell, she was pissed. He’d felt her up in a public place. Then he’d walked away, his fingers still damp with her juices, like stopping hadn’t bothered him at all. Well, it’d bothered her. And now she wanted to prove—to herself and to him—that he damned well had been affected.

  But even as she tried to talk herself into anger, all she could think of was his kiss. The feel, the texture, the power of it. She ran her tongue over her bottom lip, wanting to taste Nick again, craving the flavor. But she was afraid—terrified—if she gave in to a kiss, or a touch, she wouldn’t be able to stop. Which would prove his point, wouldn’t it? Lust will win out?

  She almost laughed as she realized the only thing keeping her from semipublic sex in the back of a moving vehicle wasn’t any sense of decorum or modesty. It was her ego, her refusal to lose the bet so handily.

  That, and a bone-deep worry that despite all her research, she might fail her first hands-on test.

  “I can see your mind working from here,” Nick murmured next to her. “What’s up?”

  Delaney opened her mouth, intending to brush off the question. Then she shrugged.

  “For you,” she said slowly, “this is about a bet.” He shook his head, obviously going to protest, but before he could say anything, she continued, “Even if the bet isn’t the main reason behind your interest, it’s still there. Won’t our taking this step simply prove your point that lust is stronger than intimacy? At least, in your own mind?”

  “Accepting the bet,” he corrected, “isn’t just about proving a point. It’s about exploring this heated attraction between us.”

  He gave her a second to deny she felt it, but Delaney wasn’t going to lie. She simply raised a brow, challenging him to continue. Nick grinned and, breaking their unspoken pact to keep their hands off each other during the ride, reached out to mesh his fingers with hers. It was like being plugged into a high-voltage heater, sparks started in her palm before zinging through the rest of her body.

  “I wouldn’t have issued the bet, Delaney, if I wasn’t intrigued by you. Attraction isn’t sufficient. At least, not to make me interested in a woman enough to back her into a corner and use a bet to get her to
sleep with me.”

  “You’re a clever man, and as you’ve said yourself, words are your business. I doubt you’ve ever resorted to a banal pickup line.”

  “For a woman who claims to believe in the power of emotions, you’re awfully hesitant to trust your own,” he shot back. “I’m guessing you’re afraid. Is it of me being right? Or is it of sex itself?”

  Before she could respond, the car stopped in front of her apartment building. Ever the gentleman, Nick got out, then reached in to give her his hand.

  Nick told the driver to wait, then curved his hand over Delaney’s hip to guide her into the building. She used the silence, broke only by the staccato tapping of their shoes as they crossed the foyer, to gather her thoughts.

  Afraid of sex, her ass. Her hesitation over giving him the advantage in their original bet flew out the window as determination filled her. He thought he’d won? That she was going to run from sex? Ha. She’d show him.

  Now that she’d decided, her mind spun in a million directions. Was his chest smooth or lightly sprinkled with hair? Did he like it hard and fast and wild, or slow and sweet? Hell, which way did she like it? She didn’t know, but she was sure both would be incredible.

  She waited until they were in the elevator, watched the doors shut, then turned to face him. His gorgeous blue eyes warmed, but underneath the warmth were traces of annoyance. He was obviously a man well versed in burying his emotions. Or possibly used to being let down. She filed the question away to explore later.

  Then she dived for him. His eyes flashed in surprise before her mouth latched onto his. A wild heat flared, hot and high. His hand was strong on her waist as he pulled her close, his other buried in her hair to tug her head back for his lips.

  She moaned her pleasure as his tongue plunged deep to dance with hers. She met the moves thrust for thrust. Hands curved over the planes of his chest, pressing, stroking. She needed more. Wanted it all. Her fingers gripped his bicep, lust pouring through her like warm, sticky honey at the feel of the rock-solid muscle.