Too hot to sleep

by Stephanie Bond

  “Well,” he said, clapping his hands together once. “Why don’t you have a seat, and I’ll be back in a few.” He smiled, then disappeared down a hallway, his shoulders practically spanning its width.

  Georgia hugged herself as she wandered around the perimeter of the room, gazing at photos of people who bore such a strong resemblance to Ken, they had to be related. Funny, but now that she thought about it, she couldn’t recall ever seeing photos in Rob’s house. She hated comparing the two men, but at the moment, it was inevitable.

  In the distance a shower kicked on, alerting her to the fact that Ken’s muscular body was positioned under running soapy water. Dark skin, dark hair, smooth muscle, long limbs. She pushed away the carnal thoughts and continued her perusal of his apartment.

  Instead of leather and glass and chrome, Ken’s living room furniture consisted of two big dark-blue denim couches, a blue-and-tan checked recliner, and a low maple coffee table, flanked by a wide-screen TV. She lowered herself to the middle of the nearest couch, her body sighing in appreciation as she sank into cradling cushions. Now this was a couch. She closed her eyes and imagined curling up with a bowl of popcorn to watch a movie on the screen, leaning on the shoulder of a large man.

  Georgia halted her train of thought, once again aware of the shower going in the background. She was attracted to the man, but attraction was a long way from sharing a remote control. Ken Medlock had made it very clear he wasn’t interested in a serious relationship. And she needed to get this bizarre sexual situation with Rob out of her system, this hormonal high that left her feeling so disoriented. The shower shut off.

  She jumped to her feet, suddenly wishing she hadn’t come up. Ken was simply too physically intense in her current condition. In fact, maybe Rob would show up at the reception and they could talk, leaving Ken to his own devices. Georgia paced the room, tempted to walk out, having horribly provocative visions of Ken emerging in a towel.

  At a noise behind her, she practically jumped out of her skin. She turned to find Crash hobbling toward her on a cast, his head dipping with every arduous step. Touched, she crossed the room and sank to the floor to pet him, remembering the day she’d met Ken. Had it been less than a week? In an amazingly short amount of time he had wormed his way into her schedule and into her mind. If she were the suspicious type, she’d be inclined to think he had planned their meetings, but she knew that notion was absurd. How would Ken have known she would be at the mall, the blood drive, or even the wedding today? Even super-heroes didn’t have ESP.

  She scratched the dog’s ears, laughing at her farfetched attempt to find some reason to distrust Ken.

  “I think he remembers you from the park,” Ken said from the doorway.

  She looked up and swallowed hard. He was breathtakingly handsome in dark slacks and a cream-colored shirt. His hair was combed back and lay close to his head. From where she sat, she could detect the woodsy aromas of his cologne and soap. Her senses leapt, her body straining toward his. He walked over and extended his hand to her. His fingers were long and blunt-tipped, sensuous on their own, even if they weren’t attached to this man’s powerful body.

  As if in slow motion, she watched her hand meet his in an intimate clasp, and she allowed him to pull her to her feet. The kiss was inevitable, and perhaps more potent for that reason. Their lips came together with the momentum of two cymbals. She hungrily met his intensity, their bodies molding together. His hands skimmed over her back and she sensed great restraint when he cupped her bottom. He lifted his mouth from hers long enough to rain kisses over her ear, down her neck, whispering her name against her skin. He slid his hands to her rib cage and thumbed the undersides of her breasts through the thin dress. She undulated against him, eliciting a groan.

  Crash’s sudden bark parted them, and she gasped at the sight of a repairman standing in the door. “Sorry,” the guy said sheepishly. “I knocked three times.”

  Ken put his hands on his hips, his face dark. “Mr. Franks, what can I do for you?”

  “Just came to check your air conditioner—everything’s supposed to be working. But I can come back.”

  “We were just leaving,” Georgia said quickly, gathering her purse and hat. She sidled by the repairman and waited in the hall until Ken emerged, stuffing his wallet into his back pocket and carrying keys. She didn’t trust herself to look him in the eye.

  “I’m sorry about that, ma’am,” he said in a husky voice.

  Oh, that lush accent. “It was as much my fault,” she said, still shaken by what could have happened. “We both got carried away.”

  “I meant I’m sorry that we were interrupted.”

  She tingled under his gaze, but offered no comment. Words really weren’t necessary in the universal language of animal lust. Her cheeks burned with shame. Had it been only yesterday that she had rebuked his kiss and told him she was involved with someone? What must he think of her?

  “Georgia, say something,” he said as they descended the stairs.

  “We barely know each other,” she murmured. “This isn’t right.”

  He stopped midflight. “Give me a chance. I meant it when I said I want to get to know you.”

  She shook her head. “This isn’t a good time for me.”

  “Because of your boyfriend?” he asked, an unpleasant expression on his face.

  Right now her best defense against giving in to her sexual appetite was to keep hot Ken Medlock at arm’s length. “Yes, and I’m sorry if I led you to believe anything different.” She continued her descent, then waited for him at the bottom of the stairs.

  KEN REMAINED SILENT as he joined her at the bottom of the stairs. He had promised himself he would go slow, dammit, but the entire time he was showering, he kept thinking that the most erotic woman he’d ever known was wrapped up in a beautiful, long-haired package, and sat mere steps away in his living room. By the time he rinsed, he’d had to turn the water to icy cold to get his raging libido under control. He thought he’d succeeded until he walked out and saw her sitting on the floor, petting his dog. She’d been laughing, her cheeks glowing and her eyes sparkling. He couldn’t help himself.

  “Look, maybe this isn’t such a good idea,” he said, gesturing vaguely between them.

  She stared, her blue eyes luminous. “Maybe.”

  He sighed. “Why don’t I drop you off at the reception? I’ll give Mr. and Mrs. Childers my regrets when they come down to file the paperwork on that Haney character.”

  “Don’t be silly,” she said. “Stacey and Neil would be disappointed if you didn’t come. Besides, after what you did today, you should be there.”

  “Any cop would have done the same thing.”

  “But it wasn’t any cop,” she said softly. “It was you.” She angled her head at him. “You do have the strangest way of showing up when I least expect it. If I didn’t know better, I might think that you…”

  He swallowed hard. Think that he what? That he knew more about her than she could ever imagine?

  She shook her head. “Never mind. Let’s go.”

  Tingling with remorse, he led her to his gray sport utility vehicle. In response to her raised eyebrows, he gave a little laugh. “You didn’t think I drove the cruiser all the time, did you?”

  “I suppose I did.”

  “Well, Miss Adams,” he drawled, “I’m full of surprises.” And there’s one you’d rather not know about, I’m sure.

  At least he’d managed to coax a smile from her, and the tension eased a bit. He unlocked the door and helped her climb inside, setting his jaw when he touched her silky skin. The skirt of her filmy dress hung down, in danger of being caught in the closed door. He picked up the hem of the blue dress and, at a loss, handed it to her. The awkwardness and intimacy of the moment caught at his heart, and a lump of frustration lodged in his throat. He wanted to be with her, to access her mind and her body and her dreams, but the distance she maintained, combined with her loyalty to Robert Trainer, compounded by his
guilt over the phone calls…

  He stepped back and closed the door, struck by how much he could identify with the lunatic who stormed the church this afternoon. The thought of Georgia marrying someone else before they had a chance to explore the possibility of a relationship made him a little nuts. Ken pulled a hand down over his face. Get a grip, man—you wouldn’t crash the wedding wielding a blade.

  No, but he’d be mighty tempted to make a fool of himself somehow.

  Practically shaking from powerlessness, he climbed in the driver’s seat and proceeded to act as if everything were normal. It was for the best that nothing had happened upstairs, he reminded himself. Because Robert Trainer would be back soon to lay claim on her heart, and the very least he owed her was a confession that would circumvent a rupture in Georgia and Rob’s relationship.

  I’ll tell her at the reception, he told himself, after a drink for courage.

  18

  “AND A VERY SPECIAL TOAST,” Stacey said, lifting her glass, “to our friend and hero, Officer Ken Medlock of the Birmingham City Police Department.”

  The guests erupted in enthusiastic applause. From across the room, Georgia’s heart thumped as he nodded his thanks to the couple, then she drank from her glass. Rob hadn’t materialized, so her hope for a buffer from Ken had disintegrated. She’d made herself scarce, moving around the room in an attempt to avoid being alone with Ken. He seemed not to mind, mingling with ease, surrounded by back-patters and hand-shakers who had witnessed the incident at the wedding. And the women. Georgia frowned into her half-empty glass. The women were so…bold in their body language.

  Not that she cared. After all, she’d had her chances. Ken had made no secret of the fact that he wouldn’t mind having a physical relationship. And she wanted him, too. But first Rob, now Ken—who would she be lusting after next week? Engaging in sexual games only fed a dangerous appetite. A forbidden boundary was easier to cross the second time, and the activity would have to be progressively more risqué to deliver the same thrill. Where would it end? Not in a committed marriage.

  Georgia downed the rest of the champagne and went in search of a phone, thinking she might call Rob to see if they could meet somewhere to talk since she wouldn’t get her phone back until tomorrow. She sighed. Although at the time Rob had seemed to enjoy her calls, she’d concluded that he was definitely avoiding her. She wanted to let him off the hook as soon as possible. Literally.

  “Georgia.”

  At the sound of Ken’s voice behind her, she closed her eyes briefly, then hurried her steps, scanning the signs on the doors in front of her. When she saw the word Office on the second door to the right, she made a beeline for it, despite his rapidly approaching footsteps. His large hand closed around hers on the doorknob, sending her heart into overdrive.

  “Georgia,” he murmured, “I need to talk to you.”

  She wished she hadn’t drunk that glass of champagne on an empty stomach. She stared at his hand on hers, momentarily mesmerized. “It’s not necessary, Ken.”

  “Believe me, ma’am, it is.”

  Georgia slowly turned and looked up at the man who was playing havoc with her emotions, and her libido. At soon as she met his gaze, however, she knew she was in trouble. His hand tightened over hers, and his Adam’s apple dipped.

  I want him, every fiber in her body screamed in unison. His mouth twitched and she felt her lips part. The next instant his mouth was on hers, moving hungrily. He clasped her upper arms with both hands, as if he were afraid she might try to flee. His tongue sought hers, plunging and retreating in a frenzied dance, sending a burn to her thighs. Champagne mingled on their tongues. The friction of skin on skin released the scents of their spicy and sweet colognes. Georgia moaned and jammed her traitorous body against his.

  But through the fog of desire, the sound of approaching voices reached her ears. She stiffened and pulled back, recognizing at least one of the voices as a gossipy bridesmaid—if they were seen together, everyone would know, including Rob, that Georgia had been playing Post Office with the man of the hour.

  The desperation must have shown on her face, because he said, “In here,” and yanked open the door at her back. They ducked inside the dark room and Ken closed the door behind them. They were enveloped in near darkness. The noisy crowd passed by slowly, most of them sounding female, joking and laughing. Someone slipped and almost fell, eliciting a remark about everyone’s level of sobriety.

  “Did you get a look at that gorgeous cop?” a woman asked. “Whew-we!”

  “Wouldn’t mind being handcuffed to that guy,” another one said, triggering another wave of giggles.

  Georgia’s entire body pulsed, her senses keened by Ken’s kiss and proximity in the darkness. She could hear him breathing, shifting at the group’s comments. At last their footsteps and voices faded away.

  Relieved that disaster had been avoided, she groped for the doorknob and turned it.

  Only it didn’t move.

  Panic blipped in her heart as she struggled with the doorknob. “It won’t open,” she hissed.

  He made a disbelieving sound. “Let me try.”

  Georgia yanked her hand back when Ken’s touched hers.

  He jiggled the knob three times, each attempt more insistent than the last. Then he grunted. “The knob came off.”

  “Oh, great.” Unwilling to accept the possibility that they might be trapped, she turned to inspect their hiding place. Light filtered into the room from a high window on the back wall of the small, narrow room, silhouetting strange shapes that did not resemble an office. She felt along the wall nearest to her for a light switch, but when she found one, the click produced nothing. She flipped it back and forth. Nada. “The light doesn’t work,” she announced.

  “Why were you coming in here in the first place?” he asked, his tone just the tiniest bit accusing.

  She bristled. “I was looking for a phone, and I thought the sign on the door said Office.” She didn’t add that when she heard him behind her, she’d simply wanted to flee, period.

  “Looks like some kind of furniture storage closet,” he said, his voice angled away from her.

  Her eyes had adjusted to the darkness and she could make out old couches, tables, and chairs lining the walls, stacked as high as safety allowed. The air was hot and stale, further proof they were in a stockroom. “There has to be a way out,” she said, then took one step and promptly tripped over something.

  His foot, she realized when he caught her, his hands touching intimate places. Blatant desire shot through her primed body. In the space of five seconds, the atmosphere changed to libidinous. She could barely see him, could barely make out his silhouette, but the electricity between them practically glowed. She couldn’t explain the phenomenon that had materialized between them in scant days, but she was powerless to resist it. His hand sought out her jaw, his fingers brushed the back of her neck, and she knew she was lost.

  “Let’s find the exit later,” he murmured, then kissed her thoroughly.

  Like a weary soldier, Georgia almost welcomed the moment of defeat. Her limbs were limp with relief, her mind resigned to the inevitable conclusion of their passion. She threw herself into the kiss—if she was going to relinquish her pride to Ken Medlock, she would do it largely.

  19

  GEORGIA’S EYES quickly adjusted to the dim lighting, assisted by the glow of his pale shirt. Their kisses grew more feverish and more promising, tongues dancing, teeth clicking. And the heat. The stuffy temperature and the sexual energy combined to create moisture at her pulse points. Her senses were sharp-edged, delivering stabs of desire and pleasure that stole her breath. When Georgia could no longer bear the onslaught, she undid the top button on his shirt. The simple act released a torrent of groans and hurried movements until his shirt and the top of her dress lay open to exploring fingers.

  His chest was a wall of firm, smooth muscle covered with a triangle of dark hair. She thumbed his flat, taut nipples, wishing she co
uld see his massive body in full light. His heart thudded beneath her palm, as if the man’s hard, insistent erection against her stomach wasn’t proof enough that he was alive. He caressed her breasts through her sensible bra, her nipples pearled and aching.

  “Harder,” she whispered, arching her back.

  In answer, he unhooked her bra and released her breasts into his hands, then palmed her flesh and rolled the tips until she cried out. Without warning, he lowered his mouth to her nipple, and the remnants of rational thought fled.

  “Ahhhh,” she whispered, holding his head against her breast, urging him to draw her deeper into his mouth. He flicked his tongue over the sensitive tip, sending sensations exploding over her in waves, carrying her toward the kind of experience she’d only imagined and now wondered if she could withstand.

  It was his touch, she decided, that so aroused her. Firm, yet gentle. Powerful, yet restrained. He caressed her as if she were a special treasure that might break if mishandled. And his voice—or rather, his noises—sent a jolt to her thighs. Responsive, expressive, bold. She countered with enthusiasm as he transferred his attention to her other breast, and explored any part of him she could reach. Ken lifted his head and stared into her eyes, then guided her quaking hand to his waistband.

  Georgia understood. He wanted her, but he wanted the decision to be hers. And somehow, his tentativeness in juxtaposition to his ragged breathing was even more titillating. She dragged in air through her open mouth and slid her fingers beneath his waistband to feel bare skin, emanating warmth, and the wet tip of his arousal. When he moaned, feminine power welled in her chest, giving her the confidence to be daring. She loosened his fly and clasped his thick erection, then leaned into him, pressing her breasts against his chest.

  With a long, guttural moan, he cupped her bottom and undulated against her, then pulled up her skirt, one fistful at a time, until his hands tugged at her cotton panties. Her knees weakened when his fingers delved inside and for a split second, she thought she might be too overcome to reciprocate. But long-forbidden instincts kicked in, causing her to stroke his straining staff. Taking her cues from the rumbling noises he emitted, she squeezed her hand down the considerable length with a slow and firm hand, wondering what it would feel like to have him inside her. The mere thought produced more lubrication for his fingers.