Passionate Kisses

by Various

  John held up his hand. “I get it.” He reached for the contract, gave it a quick onceover set it with the rest of the paperwork on the bench beside him. “Okay. So, when do we get started?” He raised and lowered his eyebrows.

  “Well, it depends, of course, on how fast you get the paperwork back to me. And also if you, uh, pass.”

  After they’d eaten, John gave her a ride back to her office, since she’d taken the bus to the restaurant. He pulled into the bus zone in front of the Statesman building and let the car idle. “I’ll call you when I’ve finished with those,” he said, nodding to the papers in the back seat. “It’ll probably take a few weeks to get everything you need.”

  “Okay. Thanks.” She gave him a small smile then reached for the door.

  He touched her arm. “Sam, wait.”

  She sat back in her seat, expecting another question about the agreement or her fertility schedule. Instead, he hooked his fingers around her neck and pulled her toward him.

  She stopped him with a firm hand on his shoulder. “What are you doing?”

  His lips curved into a sexy smile. “Getting a head start on things.”

  Before she could object, his mouth closed over hers. This time, she wasn’t caught so off guard she couldn’t respond. She fully intended to push him away, she really did, but the kiss was too skillful, too tempting. It was even better than the last one. Before she knew it, she was kissing him back. Hard.

  If it wasn’t for the bus that honked at them for being in its path, Sam didn’t know where that kiss might have led. Thank you, Metro, she thought as they broke the embrace. With a frazzled look at John, she scurried out of his car. Dear Lord, what have I gotten myself into?

  Chapter 7

  “Holy hell, man. What have you gotten yourself into?” Alex planted his massive form in the middle of John’s office, like a bull about to charge.

  John didn’t look up from the papers he was signing. “How do you really feel, Drake?” He’d known Alex would be floored by the news he was going to help Sam have a baby.

  “Hey, it’s your life.”

  “Don’t worry. I can handle it.” He organized the stack of papers, slipped them into a manila envelope and set the package in his OUT box for Margo.

  “All I’m saying is I couldn’t help someone have a baby unless I was gonna be raisin’ the kid, you know what I’m saying?”

  “Well, you and I are different. You’re looking to settle down and have a house full of kids. I’m not.”

  “I just don’t understand why you agreed to help her.”

  “Because I owe her.”

  “But, John-boy. All your fears about— Remember how you were after Kate’s miscarriage? I mean—”

  “This isn’t the same. This will be Sam’s child. Not mine. I’ll have nothing to do with it.” He glanced up and met Alex’s eyes, silently telling him the discussion was over.

  “Okay, okay. I get it.” He gave John a wicked smile. “So I guess your only responsibility is to give Sam the high hard one for a few months, eh?”

  “Kiss my ass, Drake.”

  Alex swung toward the doorway. “No, that’s her job now.” His high-pitched chuckle echoed down the corridor as he strolled away.

  Sam blotted her lipstick with a tissue and perused her reflection in the motel mirror. After fluffing out a couple of flat spots in her hair and rubbing a smudge of lipstick off her teeth, she surveyed her clothing — a leopard-print catsuit and black stiletto ankle boots laced up the front. She’d debated with herself about wearing something more low-key. She looked like a woman about to have a clandestine rendezvous with her lover. Of course, that wasn’t the case. John Everest was not, and would never be, her lover in the romantic sense of the word. As crass as it sounded, he was only going to be a sex partner, a means to an end. No emotional entanglements. Which was why she chose this outfit. She didn’t want to look anything like a woman you’d bring home to Mother.

  The butterflies in her stomach had been fluttering ever since John had surprised her at the office this morning, slapping a manila envelope onto her desk.

  “What’s that?” she’d asked.

  “Everything you wanted. Questionnaire, signed contract, test results.” He perched on the edge of her desk, one muscular thigh resting atop. He wore a plain gray sweat suit, a style and color she’d always found extremely boring and unflattering. Until now. The way the sporty fleece draped his muscularity and tight buns had her pulse pounding in some intimate areas. He looked good enough to lick up one side and down the other.

  “Boy, th-that was fast,” she said, her heart racing. It had been barely two weeks since she’d given him all the information.

  “I was inspired.” He stared at her with that intensely arrogant look. God, it was sexy. “So, you free tonight?”

  “Tonight?”

  He nodded. “You told me your next fertile time started…” he pointed to the calendar on the corkboard behind her desk, “today.”

  Tonight? My God. He wants to sleep with me tonight? Images of his slick, naked body pressed against hers in the heat of passion washed over her. It’s too soon. I don’t know him well enough. She took a deep breath to still her racing pulse and cleared her throat. “I suppose tonight will work.”

  They decided to meet at a motel, even though John thought it made more sense to meet at one of their homes where they’d be more comfortable. Sam knew she wouldn’t be comfortable anywhere with him, but especially not at his place or hers. She needed to keep things impersonal. No complications.

  Before he’d left the Statesman offices, she’d walked him out to the reception area. Then, in front of the front desk, a couple of customers, and with the whole news room behind her, he’d kissed her. It wasn’t the typical good-bye peck on the lips, but a full-blown, knock-your-socks off kind of kiss that left her breathless.

  “Foreplay,” he’d whispered in her ear, before letting her go.

  She’d been so flustered throughout his entire visit, it hadn’t occurred to her to tell him she needed to review the questionnaire and test results. She’d just spontaneously agreed to meet him, which was unlike her to be so flaky. After he’d left — after that kiss, whew! — she’d looked over his paperwork, and with nervous anticipation mixed with a fair amount of dread, she’d seen everything was more than satisfactory.

  That had been this morning. She glanced again at her reflection in the motel mirror, then left the bathroom to sit on one of the beds and wait. The butterflies in her stomach were in a frenzy now. Someone knocked at the door. Crossing the room, she put her hand on the doorknob, which was cold on her sweaty palm. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and opened the door.

  John stood on the threshold, a bottle of wine in one hand and a single red rose in the other. “Hi,” he said, grinning. His gaze roved over her catsuit. “Meow.”

  Seeing what he held she asked, “What’s this? More foreplay?”

  He chuckled. “Something like that.”

  She pressed her lips together. “You know, Everest—” She held up her hand and sighed. “John. Sorry. I hope you realize just because we’re going to be…” she rowed the air between them with her hand, “…having sex, doesn’t mean we’re going to be…”

  He held out the rose. She took it, suspending her breath a moment as his fingers lingered against hers. “Don’t worry, beautiful. I know the score.”

  She held the door wide. “Come on in.”

  His body rustled against hers as he passed into the room. He looked good. He’d changed into a deep purple shirt and blue jeans. He really was a handsome man. Her butterflies did the jitterbug. He’ll make a cute baby, she thought, forcing her mind back to their purpose in being here.

  She realized John watched her. How should she do this? “Well, we both know why we’re here.” She reached for the zipper on her catsuit. His hands stopped her.

  “Whoa there, beautiful,” he said, amusement coloring his voice. His eyes twinkled. “As anxious
as I am to get you undressed, I had something else in mind first.” He released her hands and picked up the wine he’d deposited on the table by the window. “I forgot glasses. Are there any here?”

  Sam crossed to the bathroom and returned with a paper-sealed water glass. “There’s just this one.”

  “That’s okay. We can share.” His gaze roved lazily over her and Sam’s breath caught. He popped the cork and peeled off the paper seal on the glass. She could have done that, but felt rather dazed. He showed her the bottle. “Is this okay?”

  “Hmm, what?”

  “The wine. It’s a Riesling from the Ste. Michelle winery.”

  Her eyes focused on the elegant label on the bottle. “Oh. Yes. That’s fine.”

  He grinned and filled the glass with the clear golden liquid. “Shall I make a toast?”

  She snapped out of her daze. “No. Look, John. I know what you’re trying to do. And it’s... sweet. But none of this is necessary. You don’t need to seduce me. You already know you’re going to get lucky.”

  He burst out laughing.

  “What’s so funny?”

  Still chuckling, he said, “You are. You’ve got to be the most straightforward woman I’ve ever met. As to the seducing part, maybe I’m the one requiring a little seduction. So, play along, okay?”

  She couldn’t help smiling. She accepted the wine from him and downed most of it in one gulp.

  He took back the glass, peering at her through narrowed eyes. “Nervous?”

  Her first thought was to deny it, but he would know she was lying. “A little. Aren’t you?”

  He shook his head and poured more wine, taking a drink before saying, “Relax. It’s going to be great with us. You’ll see.”

  “It just seems so— I mean, we hardly know each other.”

  “Sure we do. We even know each other’s blood type.”

  She just stared at him a minute, then they both laughed. “You really don’t find this awkward?”

  “Not at all. I do this kind of thing all the time.”

  She slapped his arm. “John, I’m being serious. I haven’t made it a practice in my life to have... casual sex.”

  “I’m glad to hear that.”

  She cleared her throat. “What I’m trying to say is—” She made a frustrated sound through her teeth. “You and I have barely kissed before, yet here we are—”

  “We can remedy that,” John said softly. Before she could figure out his intent, he’d hooked an arm around her waist and pulled her close.

  She pressed her hand to his solid chest. “John, I—”

  “Quiet,” he murmured, dipping his head.

  His mouth was cool from the wine. Gently, but insistently, he urged her lips open. Hesitantly, she kissed him back. She heard him put the glass on the table beside them, then he pulled her into his arms, all without breaking the kiss.

  “Mm, you taste like wine,” he said against her lips. Just like the previous times they’d kissed, she was swept into the heady pleasure of his mouth upon hers. She felt dizzy, her ears faintly hummed. She was drunk. The wine was going to her head. No. It was the kiss. It was John. It was—

  His fingers grazed from her waist upward to the valley between her breasts. She heard the click, click, click of the zipper as he slowly pulled the catch down and down and down. His hands slipped inside the gaping outfit to bare skin. She sucked in her breath as he touched the side swells of her breasts. She felt powerless to move, as if this was her first time and she didn’t quite know what to expect or do.

  He kissed her jaw, her neck, the hollow of her throat. Her pulse beat against his lips. An echoing throb pulsed deep in her loins. He peeled the catsuit off her shoulders until it hung to her waist. Her breath caught in her throat and her hands clenched into fists, worried he moved too fast. Then her logical side reminded her: this is why they were here. There was a purpose to this, she told herself.

  He stared unabashedly at her body, his blue eyes darkening. With a feather-light touch, his fingertips grazed her nipples where they strained against the lacy confines of her bra. Sam held her breath.

  John hardened to the point of discomfort. Slowly, he released the catch of her bra, and her full, delicious breasts tumbled free. He caught them in his hands and lifted them, squeezing—

  Oh, God. They were real.

  He felt like a teenager again. He’d dated mainly exercise professionals for years, quite a few of them fitness competitors. He’d read somewhere the majority of women in that field had breast implants. From his experience, he’d agree with that statistic. In fact, he’d pretty much forgotten how the real ones felt.

  Suddenly ravenous, he bent Sam backward over his forearm and her lovely, perfect, real breasts rotated upward, the berry-colored nipples pointing to the ceiling, giving him heavenly access. He cupped one breast in his hand and his mouth closed hungrily over the nipple, tasting, nipping, and suckling her until he was crazy with desire. Her fingers tangled in his hair, drawing his head closer. He moved next door to sample her other breast, this one just as beautiful and perfect as its sister. God.

  He straightened her up so he could kiss her on the mouth. She fumbled with his shirt buttons. He stopped kissing her long enough to help her. He tossed his shirt to the floor, then caught her against him.

  “Do you have a preference?” he asked against her lips.

  “Excuse me?” she said, pulling away.

  He burst out laughing. “The beds. Which one do you want to use?”

  She blushed. “Oh. I thought you meant—” She shook her head. “Never mind what I thought you meant.”

  They used the light moment to slow down and rid themselves of clothes. When Sam stood naked in front of him, his gaze wandered slowly over her. “You are a beautiful woman.”

  She smiled but didn’t seem embarrassed by his hot appraisal. She knew she was beautiful. God, he wanted her. He pulled off his briefs until he was as naked as she was. Her eyes were passionate and appreciative. She smiled and closed the gap between them. He almost jumped out of his skin when her fingers curled around him.

  He wanted her. Now. She’d already folded back the covers, so he toppled her onto the bed, entangling their legs and arms. He slid his hand down her smooth, taut belly and into the dark curls at the apex of her thighs. His fingers slipped lower and he was rewarded with her gasp of pleasure. As he ravaged her mouth, he played with her sex, alternately teasing her sensitive nub and thrusting his fingers into her wet, hot sheath.

  “I want to be inside you, Sam,” he growled. “Now.” Her answer was to shift under him and part her thighs. With a savage growl, he shoved into her. “My God,” he said, stopping all movement.

  Her eyes flew open. “What? What’s wrong?”

  He chuckled and kissed her. “Nothing’s wrong, you gorgeous woman. I’m all for safe sex, but you can’t begin to know how much better this feels without a condom.” He pushed deeper into her.

  Her smile was bewitching. “Feels good, huh?” She wiggled her hips in such a way John feared he might lose it here and now.

  “You are dangerous to my self-control. You know that?” He clamped his mouth over hers as he thrust into her, harder and faster, until they were both sweating and panting to match the other’s tempo.

  But neither let up. He thrust into her. She ground her pelvis against him. Harder, deeper, faster. Again. And again. And again. Sam’s low moans of pleasure turned into louder moans and gasps, her fingernails digging into the muscles of his shoulders, until finally, with an animal cry of passion against his neck, she climaxed. Her hot tightening around him brought John quickly to his own release, which he took with a grunt of pleasure and satisfaction.

  He collapsed on top of her. Her heart thudded against his chest, and he couldn’t tell where her heartbeat left off and his started. Had they just made a baby together? Would it be that easy? Again, John waited for the feelings of doom and gloom to hit him, but all he felt was sated. He could handle this.

&
nbsp; “You’re squishing me,” she finally whispered, her voice strained.

  “Oops,” he said, rolling off her. “Sorry.”

  They stared at the water-stained ceiling. His watch on the nightstand echoed a tick, tick, tick in the silence.

  “That was… amazing, Sam.”

  “Yes,” she said, her voice a bit breathless. A few more moments of silence ticked by. He was about to slide his arms around her when she said, “I need a pillow.”

  “What?”

  “I need a pillow. For under my hips. It’s supposed to speed the, uh, process of, uh—”

  “Oh. Got it,” he said, giving her the pillow from beneath his head. She shifted to the side and slid the pillow under her hips, then drew the sheet around her nakedness and pulled her knees to her chest.

  “Hand me your watch, will you?” she asked. He picked it up from the table and gave it to her.

  He lay back against the mattress, feeling awkward. After several minutes of uncomfortable silence, at least on his part, he asked, “How long are you supposed to stay like that?”

  She didn’t look at him. “At least 10 minutes.”

  He was tempted to turn on the TV for companionship. Finally, she lowered her legs and turned toward him. For one hopeful moment, he thought she was going to kiss him. But she just pulled the pillow out from under her and swung her legs over the edge of the bed. The sheet bunched around her bottom, so all he saw was her bare back, her skin still rosy from their lovemaking. Or maybe it was from lying there with that damned pillow for so long.

  She stood and the sheet fell away. His body reacted to her nakedness, even though he knew there was probably no point in getting excited. She seemed done for the night. She scooped her clothes into her arms, then disappeared into the bathroom.

  He knew it was ridiculous to feel this sense of… rejection. He’d known exactly what their purpose was here. She hadn’t pretended it might be anything more. And he certainly didn’t want anything more. He blew a loud breath, scooted into a sitting position, and swung his legs off the bed. He just couldn’t help thinking after such incredible, passionate sex...