“That’s it.” Désirée slapped the bed beside her. “Monster got her.”
The room filled with the woman’s shrieks and then munching noises or something like that. Once again, evil triumphed over stupidity.
“So which monster is this?” she asked.
“I dunno. The Creature from Something or Other.”
“Swamp Thing, maybe,” she said.
“You’ve seen that one?”
“My best friend and I used to stay up late on weekends and watch,” she said. “Her mother made us real popcorn.”
“I could make you popcorn.”
She turned to face him and smiled. “A man who can cook.”
“I wouldn’t go that far, but I can make popcorn,” he said. “What about you?”
“I can cook, but I’d rather someone do it for me.”
Which, of course, meant he’d volunteer to cook for her if he didn’t stifle the impulse. He had so many different reactions to her, and only one was sexual. She drove him nuts most of the time. But there was probably someone inside there worth knowing. If he was going to spend the rest of the week with her, it’d be more fun if that person would come out.
“Are you going to wear that makeup to bed?” he asked. As she had every other night they’d been here. After their talk, he’d guessed that she could take off the paint before she went to bed.
“We are in bed.”
“Technically, we’re on it, not in it.” Besides, she knew what he meant and was avoiding the question.
“A girl—”
“Never mind,” he interrupted.
“I’m sorry it bothers you so much, but it’s who I am.”
Major lie there. He’d seen who she really was in the coffee shop. Based on what she wrote in her columns, that person was obviously bright, interesting, and funny. And good in bed. Oh well. Maybe her persona would crack if he left her alone. Or maybe he’d think up another strategy.
“Uh-oh, the monster has gotten into the root cellar,” she said.
“It’s in the house. It’s in the house.”
They both laughed. Now that they’d finished the popcorn, he balled the bag up in his fists and threw it in the general direction of the trash can by the desk. He missed, but he’d get it later.
“What do you suppose that costume is made of?” she asked.
“Papier-mache? Probably some kid’s third-grade project.”
“They don’t make movies like they used to.”
He turned on his side, which brought him close enough to her to detect the scent of her shampoo. Her skin looked powder-soft. He’d known it was, of course, but he’d never really looked at it close up. The lace of the negligee emphasized the swell of her breasts. He’d have sex with her again soon. Not right this minute, but soon. And maybe he’d think up a new way. Or two. Maybe something from one of her columns.
She glanced at him and blushed. That lovely pink color her cheeks became when she was embarrassed or aroused. She probably wasn’t aroused now, although you never knew with this passionate woman.
“Why are you looking at me?” she asked.
“Isn’t that what you wanted?”
“Well…yeah.”
“You’re very beautiful.”
Her skin reddened even further.
“That embarrasses you,” he said. “Why?”
Her only answer was a shrug. She wasn’t going to tell him. She didn’t have to with words. He’d already seen the real woman under the paint, and now he was spending time with her. Not researching her article or wowing the rest of the guests here. Just hanging out. That had its own intimacy. She probably hadn’t anticipated that.
She pointed at the screen. “I think we’re getting to the place where the guy goes down into the cellar with a gun.”
“They never figure out you can’t kill a monster with a gun, do they?”
“And when they run out of bullets, they throw the gun at it,” she said. “Like that’s going to kill a Swamp Thing.”
“It’s probably made of algae and rotting vegetation.”
“A scientist has to zap it with radiation or fry it or something.”
“Lady, you know your bad movies.”
“Seen too many of them.” She yawned. “Long day.”
He reached for the remote. “I’ll turn this off.”
“No need. I’ll doze off.” She got up, rearranged her pillows and got between the sheets. He did turn off the bedside lamp, throwing the room into darkness except for the light from the television. He also turned the volume way down and sat watching the screen.
She didn’t appear to sleep, but she rolled onto her side, closer to where he sat. When he glanced down, she’d closed her eyes.
He could study her face now to search for the shy woman he’d watched so many times. She was there, lurking beneath the paint. He had to find a connection—a way to get past her costume to her. And if he thought hard enough, he’d come up with something.
…
Rae lay staring at the ceiling. Two o’clock had come and gone, and if she checked the time she’d probably worry so much about not getting enough sleep that she’d stay awake until dawn. Trying to sleep made about as much sense as trying to relax. Neither worked worth a damn, and she wasn’t about to start solving her anxiety with pills.
Nate slept like a stone, of course. Taunting her even while he was unconscious. Everything about him set her world upside down. First, the sex. As good or better than what she wrote about. Impossible but true.
All of that summed together brought her to the real problem. She could get to care for him too much. She probably already did. And she had to remain single if she was going to make it big with her column. At the end of the week, they’d have to separate if she was to remain true to her readers. She had a purpose in life, damn it, and it didn’t include a man.
She rolled over and punched her pillow. Immediately, his arm came around her and pulled her against him.
“Nate?” she whispered.
He didn’t answer, and his breathing remained soft and even. Still asleep and still holding her close. Too endearing for words.
She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. In the days ahead, they’d have to put on an act. They’d have to pretend that this had been a trip into sexuality and nothing more. They might even flirt with other people. All for the benefit of her article. Fake, just like all of their relationship. It had started with a lie and would end as superficially as it had begun. She’d have her career, and Nate would be out of her life.
“Ah, crap.” Shit, she’d said that out loud.
“You ’kay?” Nate mumbled.
“Sure. Go back to sleep.”
“I can think of better things to do.” His hand moved to her breast and cupped it as his finger made circles over the nipple.
“Do you always think about sex?” she asked.
“That’s me…your Hook-Up Man.”
She could come to hate that term. She really could. Trouble was, she’d been the first to use it. He was only repeating her own words.
“We only have a few days left.” He flexed his hips, pressing his hard cock into her backside. “And I have a perfectly good hard-on.”
“You always do.”
“That’s my function in life, I guess.” This time, he pulled her against him and ground his erection into her flesh.
“You don’t have to do this, Nate,” she said.
“But I want to.” He rolled her onto her back and poised himself over her. In the dim light from the alarm clock, he wouldn’t be able to see her messed-up makeup or lack thereof if it had worn off entirely. She couldn’t make out the color of his eyes, and only half of his face came into view. As usual, his male beauty took her breath away.
“Let’s have sleepy sex,” he said.
“I wasn’t asleep.”
“Pretend. Let your eyes close and your mind drift off while I make you feel really, really good.”
She didn’t dese
rve him. Not the amazing way he fucked. Not the way he made her feel desirable. Not his willingness to do whatever it took for her to succeed. Most especially, she didn’t deserve for him to work so hard to arouse her while she lay there and took her pleasure selfishly.
Still she closed her eyes as he’d suggested and waited. He fumbled out of his pajama bottoms and then reached into the drawer for a condom. He had to roll onto his side to put it on, but in a moment, he was holding himself over her again.
Magic happened when he moved over her. As though the universe had made them for each other like a lock and key. Because he’d given her permission, she kept her eyes closed as he kissed her. The pressure of his lips against hers took her to another place where time stood still and nothing mattered but the pleasure they could give each other.
When he had her mind reeling and her breath coming hard, he moved lower, laying down a path of kisses along her neck to her shoulder. The friction of his body moving over hers heated her skin, and the scent of him filled her nostrils, penetrating into her brain. After all the sex they’d shared, she couldn’t doubt how wonderful this encounter would be. She only had to wait.
Her mind went hazy while every nerve came alive. When he eased her breast out of the negligee and took the nipple into his mouth to suck, she conjured up her favorite fantasy. Something she’d dreamed once and had awoken so completely aroused she’d had to reach under the bed for her vibrator. The resulting climax had been so powerful, she’d memorized the fantasy to use later. She’d never thought it would come in handy with a real lover. Could he re-create those sensations?
In the dream, she’d been swimming in a pool full of water so clear as to be nearly invisible. And warm. Flowers from the trees all around dipped downward as if to drink, and their perfume filled the air. Currents between her legs caressed her clit as she swam, and each of her strokes took her closer but not quite to orgasm.
As Nate continued moving over her, now tracing his tongue along the furrow between her breasts and downward, she relived the dream. Through fantasy logic, she couldn’t reach between her legs to bring on the climax but could only continue swimming. Harder and faster in hopes of finally crashing through the barrier. Nothing worked, though, and she became hopelessly aroused. Wild enough to forget her own name or how to breathe. Even the flowers seemed to share her excitement, as their petals fluttered rhythmically. All of nature stood poised at the edge of a miracle that would be revealed when she climaxed, and she couldn’t make herself come.
Now Nate slid downward and bunched up the negligee to bare her sex. He eased her thighs apart and stroked her. Oh God, all the feelings from the dream washed over her and through her. Pure carnality. Utter selfishness. Pleasure for its own sake.
When he touched her clit, she moved forward to the dream’s conclusion. Suddenly, a man appeared in the pool beside her. Though his face lay hidden in shadows, she recognized him as her lover. Now she could take him inside her and, certainly, she’d climax then. After maneuvering his hips beneath her so she straddled him, he pushed his cock into her. In that manner, they floated together while he thrust.
As she pictured herself in the lake’s warm water with her lover filling her, Nate stroked her clit with the tip of his tongue. So wicked. So delicious. The rasp of her own breath filled her ears in rhythm with the lapping of the water in her dream. And in her mind’s eye, her fantasy lover continued to plunder her body with his huge erection.
She wouldn’t even have to reach for the orgasm. It was already building, crouching and ready to spring. Nate kept up the pressure, now harder. Pushing and pushing as her breathing turned to gasps.
Now, her mind screamed. The imaginary cock inside her wouldn’t do any longer. Not when she could have a real one. Now, oh please, now!
As if he’d read her mind, Nate rose over her again, this time positioning himself to enter her. When he did, her whole world shattered. She erupted into orgasm, her inner muscles contracting violently. She shouted, and the flowers vibrated in response. Waves broke out on the surface of the pool. Amazing, and more beautiful than she’d remembered.
When the climax ended, she found herself gripping Nate’s shoulders as he thrust. He hadn’t come yet, but he seemed close. His sounds and movements had become familiar enough to her now to recognize the signs. His half grunts and sighs. The driving rhythm he used. His total concentration on his own body. After what he’d given her, she could hardly begrudge him that.
So she held him as he approached the ultimate. He was at his most vulnerable now, and she could cherish the moment when he lost himself in orgasm.
“Shit, I’m coming,” he said. “Oh…yeah…”
Then he shouted, and his body stiffened. He thrust a few more times and then froze. She clung to him and kissed his cheek as he came. Not that he’d notice. But he was so precious to her at that moment. Such an amazing lover.
Sleepy sex. She’d used it in one of her columns, and he must have read it and remembered it. He’d sent her into another reality and brought her back. Her heart could only hope she’d done the same for him.
Chapter Eight
When daylight slipped in through the crack between the drapes, Nate opened his eyes and, of course, found the bed next to him empty. The shower was running.
He glanced at the clock. Only a little after six. With the long days, sunup came a bit after five thirty. Désirée had to get up stupid early to get in there before he awoke. And they were supposed to be on vacation.
Time to put Operation Devious into action.
After their conversation the day before, he’d decided enough with the bullshit. He’d told her about his divorce—something he scarcely allowed himself to think about. He’d bared his psyche to her, more or less, and she was still hiding. After she’d fallen asleep and the scientists had killed the monster, the simplest plan to get her to expose her true self hit him. So obvious, he should have thought of it as soon as they’d arrived. But he’d come up with it now, and he’d act.
He threw back the covers and got up. His morning wood had already grown into a full-on erection even after the sex in the middle of the night. He pushed his pajama bottoms down over it, making himself naked and ready for maneuvers. All he needed was a condom, so he grabbed one out of the side table drawer and went to the bathroom door.
When he opened it, steam hit him in the face, and the gleaming fixtures were surrounded by fog. He let himself in and closed the door quietly behind him. Then he tiptoed toward the glass shower stall.
She was facing away from him, arching her body under the spray. In this make-believe world of swirling mist, she might have been a water nymph. Only she’d be a Botticelli, not a stick figure from a fashion magazine. What an ass and thighs. She probably thought she was overweight.
Water nymphs lured men to their doom, didn’t they? Mythology. She wouldn’t do anything like that, but she’d probably be pretty pissed when she discovered he’d snuck in on her shower. He’d have to make it up to her with an orgasm. Or two. Or three.
He had to stop himself from whistling as he opened the stall door and joined her.
She shrieked and spun around to face him. He must have scared the daylights out of her.
“I didn’t mean to startle you,” he said.
“What are you doing?” Her voice hadn’t gone down a lot in volume.
“Taking a shower with my lover,” he said. “It’s the environmentally conscious thing to do.”
“Get out.”
Okay, he’d expected a negative reaction but not quite this strenuous. “Calm down. It’s not that big a deal.”
“You’re not supposed to see me.”
“I see you all the time. I fuck you all the time.”
“It’s not the same.”
“All right, Désirée.” Good Lord, why was this so hard. “Is that your real name?”
“It is.”
No progress there. “This is ridiculous. We’ve been having sex for days. It’s time I saw yo
u the way you really are under that coat of paint.”
“You don’t want to.”
“Oh, but I do.” He advanced on her by a few steps.
She backed up toward the wall. “You don’t.”
He kept right up with her, setting the condom on a shelf as he went. “I do.”
Could this get any more first grade? She had to have noticed his boner. She had to realize he was looking at her and he did want her.
Finally, she hit the wall and couldn’t back up any farther. With her trapped, he could take her face between his palms and tip it up to study it.
She was the same woman he’d watched in Sufficient Grounds. At the time, he’d realized she had a wicked sexual imagination that turned him on. Now he’d learned she followed that with an incredible response, which made her even hotter than his fantasies about her. To be fair, he hadn’t appreciated her beauty until it had come dolled up in makeup and tight clothes. Now he could enjoy it unembellished by anything but her true nature.
Her eyes were still deep and blue, surrounded by thick black lashes. Her nose still turned up on the end, which gave her an air of mischief. And her lips were full. Tempting like sweet fruit.
“You’re beautiful,” he whispered.
“You don’t mean that.”
“Why wouldn’t I mean it?”
“Come on, Nate,” she said. “Go out and let me get ready on my own.”
“And waste this boner you’ve given me?”
“We can make love when I come out.”
“We’ll do it right now.”
She huffed. “You’re impossible.”
“Haven’t you ever had sex in the shower before?” he asked. “Where’s your adventurous nature?”
“In my makeup case.”
“Nuh-huh.” He lifted her chin and kissed her briefly. “I’ve already seen you as the Good Lord made you. I like what I see. My erection should tell you that.”
She didn’t say anything for a few seconds. Pondering the complete truth of what he’d said, no doubt. As she thought, the shower spray warmed them both, filling the small space with steam. Hot and wet. Exactly how he’d make her if she’d just relax.
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