by Shayla Black
With a rueful smile, she worked to set him at ease. “I probably should be. But this is the most admiration I’ve had since my divorce. Whoever it is, I don’t think he means any harm.”
Slowly, he released her arm and sent her a long stare. “You want naked skin and shared fantasies?”
Lauren sighed. “What red-blooded woman doesn’t? I appreciate your concern, but—”
“Can you handle skin and fantasies?”
She shrugged, wondering if Noah cared even a tiny bit that some other man wanted to hold her. “According to him, I’ll find out soon. Guess I’ll let you know then.”
Chapter Two
TGIF! Lauren was more than ready to call it a week. After Wednesday’s fiasco with the short skirt and filmy blouse, she almost thanked the unexpected cold front that forced her to wear wool pants and a cashmere sweater on Thursday. Or she would have been happy, if she hadn’t realized that the more clothes she wore, the more comfortable Noah seemed to be.
Grateful for casual Friday, today Lauren wore no-nonsense jeans and sneakers and a turtleneck. She sighed. Only a nun’s habit was more asexual.
She glanced at her watch as she made her way back to her desk from a meeting so boring, watching paint peel sounded positively thrilling in comparison. 3:45 p.m. An hour and fifteen minutes. Sorting through the rest of her e-mail today would take up that time. Then…she’d have a whole weekend to herself.
And she was determined to spend it thinking about anything and anyone except Noah Reeves.
As Lauren approached her desk, she immediately saw a pristine rectangular box with a big red bow sitting on top of her controlled clutter. A red rose lay across the lid.
She hesitated, frowning, and looked around. No one stood nearby. Her desk was in a corner, near the window. There was no way someone had accidentally left this here. It had been specifically placed on her desk, where she couldn’t possibly miss it.
By the person who’d left the bare skin and fantasies note the day before yesterday?
Biting her lip, she approached the box and picked it up, setting the rose aside. Light. A little smaller than a shirt box. It bore the markings of a posh lingerie store not far from the office, where she’d window shopped many times. But she couldn’t justify actually buying anything there, given the fact no one would see the sweet nothings except her. And maybe an EMT or two if she ever had a medical emergency.
A curious anticipation settled in her belly. In truth, she should be scared. If this was the same guy who’d written the note, he was starting to look serious. That excited more than scared her. After being sexually invisible to Tim for years and being certain the opposite sex regarded her as a mom/fellow football fan, a little sexual attention felt nicer than she ought to admit.
Heart picking up pace, Lauren tugged on the silky red ribbon. It unraveled under her fingers, slithering to the desk in silence. She lifted the lid and read the typed note sitting on top of the crisp pink tissue paper.
You. Me. Naked skin. Shared fantasies. A whole night.
Tonight.
The same note as Wednesday, but he’d changed soon to tonight. As in after work tonight? Would he just…reveal himself? Call her? Maybe the box held answers.
Her pulse picked up a bit more speed as she broke the golden seal holding the tissue paper closed and peeled back the delicate pieces.
Holy cow!
If the note hadn’t spelled it out, Lauren would get a very clear idea of what Mr. Mysterious had in mind from the contents of this box. The two items inside were red lace and small. Scratch that. Red lace and very small.
She picked up one. A thong, soft and delicate. It would caress her body—what little it covered—in silken seduction. She didn’t even need to pick up the other item to see it was a camisole with velvet, corset-style laces up the front. And underwire support. A glance at the tag had her jaw dropping. Her secret admirer had guessed her bra size perfectly.
“Do a little shopping in preparation for the weekend?” drawled a familiar raspy-sexy voice behind her. “If so, I’m guessing you found something more exciting to do than lay tile.”
With a gasp, she shoved the lingerie back in the box and closed the lid. “Did you need something?”
“Eventually. First, I want the answer to my question.”
Lauren started chewing on her lip again, torn between hiding the truth and complete embarrassment. He seemed…amused. A heartbeat away from laughing.
This was so not funny. Just because he didn’t find her attractive didn’t mean no one else would.
“No. As a matter of fact, the admirer who left the note on Wednesday left this while I was at my last meeting.”
“Tenacious. I’ll give him that.” Noah stroked his chin. “And you have no idea who it is?”
“I don’t,” she admitted. “But after spending the kind of money to buy this…ensemble at Seductions and Secrets, I don’t think he’ll be a stranger much longer.”
“You okay with that? After the divorce—”
“It’s been two years, Noah. I know you and Tim are pals, but it’s really no longer any of his business what I do with my time.”
“Agreed.” He held up his hands to ward off any further tirade. “So, is red your color?”
Oh, yeah. Sinful, sexual, siren red. “Why not? Do I not look like a red sort of woman?” she challenged. “You probably think I’m all white cotton, and you’re wrong.”
The full line of his mouth twitched, as if he might be fighting a smile, before his expression smoothed.
“I’m pleading the fifth.” He frowned. “How did this guy know your size? Assuming he even got it right.”
Lauren hesitated. “Well…I don’t know. But the size is perfect, so I’m guessing he knows his way around a woman’s body.”
“You sure you can handle this? You don’t want me to have security look into the situation?”
She felt her blood pressure rise. Hell, it skyrocketed. “Thank you for the intimation that the only man who could want me must be a psycho.”
“I didn’t say he was a psycho. Even if he’s not, most men are sexually demanding, Lauren. This sounds like someone who wants to tie you down, fill you up with everything he’s got, and take you for a long, hard ride.”
“And your point is…? Noah, I’m divorced, not a virgin.” Gritting her teeth, she pulled away from him, stomping around the corner of her desk.
He grabbed her and brought her back around to face him. “You want to find yourself on your knees with a mouthful of cock or be introduced to the back of the couch when he bends you over it to fuck you?”
His words flooded her with heat. She pictured herself before Noah, kneeling at his feet, looking up into his familiar, rugged face as he grabbed her hair and led her mouth to his waiting cock. She’d lick the head, drag her tongue down the shaft, then suck him deep as he fisted his hands in her hair and groaned, demanding more.
“Your pupils are dilating. You like that idea?”
Lauren took a deep breath, watching his unreadable face with overheated cheeks and resisting the urge to press her thighs together. Oh, God. She was getting hot having a conversation with her boss. And if he knew he starred in her X-rated daydreams, he’d probably run in the other direction. She needed to watch her tongue, her temper, and her runaway fantasies.
“I don’t want to talk about it. Did you need something, sir?”
Impatience skated across his features. “Lauren, answer me.”
“Please, just forget it.” This whole argument was too humiliating for words.
He sat on a corner of her desk. By virtue of his six-three frame, he towered over her as he braced his elbow on one knee and leaned closer to her. Not for the first time, Lauren wished her sense of smell was something more than nonexistent. She’d bet Noah’s scent was yummy.
“Lauren, I’m sorry if I’ve upset you. I didn’t intend to. I just want to make sure you know what you’re getting into. Do you?”
“I’m fa
miliar with the concept of sex. I have two children.”
Noah grabbed the note. “I don’t think this guy is talking about some civilized screw. He’s talking possession. Are you comfortable with being completely taken? If you’re uneasy, I’ll do what I can to stop him.”
The anger drained out of her. As always, nice. Polite, more or less. She couldn’t look at him and say what was on the tip of her tongue. But it had to be said.
“Look.” She sighed and stared at the half-closed box in her lap—anywhere but at him. “I’m a grown woman. I may not be twenty-five anymore and I may not be a professional cheerleader, but I still like to feel desired.”
Noah groaned. “Lauren—”
“Save the speech. I haven’t had any attention from a man in a lot of years, and it feels…nice. You’re right. This guy may be off-kilter. He may demand more than I want to give sexually. If so, I know how to say no. But I doubt I’ll get in over my head. For now, I’m going to enjoy the fact someone has noticed I’m female. So can we drop it?”
“One more question, then I’ll shut up.” At her reluctant nod, he hesitated. She’d bet he was choosing his words with care. He often did. In fact, he planned everything.
At least he was trying not to piss her off this time.
“I’ve known you a lot of years. Sometimes, you’re an impulsive woman.”
Hell, she could already hear him trying to talk her out of a fling with the mysterious lingerie-giving stranger. “The question, Noah?”
“You’ve had, what, two dates since your divorce? And now you’re contemplating something way beyond dinner and a movie with someone you’ve never even met. Do you think you should take it slower?”
That did it! Her temper returned with a vengeance, spiking through her blood. She grabbed her purse, the gift box, and stood. “You’ve been counting my dates now like an overprotective older brother? It’s been two years. You don’t wait two weeks between one model and the next, but I need to go slow? Amazing.”
Before five or not, she was leaving. The humiliation of this conversation was just too much.
She turned away and marched toward the door.
Noah restrained her by wrapping a hand around her elbow and drawing her closer. “You really want to wear red lace wisps for a guy you don’t even know? You want to allow a stranger to touch you? To fuck you?”
Lauren jerked away, determined not to notice how her arm burned where he touched her or the body heat rolling off him in knee-weakening waves. “I want to feel alive again. I’m ready to get on with my life now. I’m ready to touch and be touched—”
Tears tightened her throat and she couldn’t go on. God, she was baring her soul to a man who thought of her like a sister. And until she’d spoken the words, Lauren hadn’t realized how much she ached to have someone hold her. Tonight.
“Lauren… Sugar, I’m sorry if I upset you.”
She shook her head, frowning to ward off more tears. “I’m fine. I just need to go.”
Slowly, with obvious reluctance, he released her. “Sure. Where are you off to?”
Sending a pained smile in his direction, she held up the box. “I’m going to go home, put this stuff on, and get on with the rest of my life. Maybe Mr. Mysterious will show up and put a smile on my face.”
* * * *
Cursing the dark shadows enshrouding the porch, Noah Reeves lifted the clay pot at his feet, now rioting with a profusion of spring flowers that nearly made him sneeze—which would likely wake half the neighborhood. He managed to hold it in while he felt around the cold cement. Finally, his fingers latched onto metal. Just where it had always been… A grin broke out across his face as he grabbed the key and replaced the flowerpot.
After pocketing the key, Noah reached for the small black bag he’d set at his feet. He unzipped it slowly, silently, barely restraining his impatience. Adrenaline crashed through his system as he extracted the leather gloves he’d packed, fished out the key again, and donned the gloves.
With leather-clad hands and a cock that wouldn’t stand down, he opened the door.
Dark. Silence. Toward the back of the house, he saw a gray light casting down the hall, first bright, then dim, before turning bright once more. The TV, he’d bet. Damn, it was one in the morning. He’d have to work around the unexpected brightness.
Reaching into his bag again, Noah pulled out his black ski mask and pulled it over his head. Showtime…
Palms sweating under his gloves and perspiration breaking out across his back, he crept down the hall toward the oddly flashing light. Slowly. Quietly. Heart threatening to pound out of his chest, Noah gripped the handle of his bag, breath held, as he neared his destination.
He’d waited nearly a decade for this opportunity. Ten fucking years. He’d plotted this night for the last two. Thought he’d die of impatience the last six months. And tonight…he could barely rein in his excitement or need. The urge to fuck, to claim, seized him. The now he’d been craving had finally arrived.
Noah reached the end of the hallway and peeked in. And nearly stopped breathing. She was here. Seemingly asleep. Alone.
All his.
Tiptoeing into the bedroom, Noah stared down at his fantasy, his future.
For now, she lay on her side, one hand under her flushed cheek, her pale thighs tangled up in her covers. The rest of her…almost totally exposed. Skin. Inches and inches of blessedly bare limbs, torso, and shoulders. The only covering? A familiar red lace thong and matching camisole. As he’d known the first time he’d seen the garments, Lauren looked delicious in them.
That was exactly why he’d bought them. And sent them to her. Then stopped to watch her blush and squirm once she opened them. And he’d been so damn hard imagining her in them ever since.
It’s also why he played devil’s advocate with her when she received them…to make sure she wasn’t scared. To make sure she was really ready to let go of the past and take a lover.
Persuading her he should be that someone was the trick.
Noah hated subterfuge. This James Bond crap of sneaking in her house, pretending to be someone else, and surprising her wasn’t his first choice. But he had to do something—fast.
Lauren had started dressing sexier at work. Last Wednesday, he’d nearly drooled on her—in between being mentally rushed by a thousand heady fantasies, all revolving around Lauren naked with her nails in his back while he pounded deep inside her. He’d had to look away to avoid jumping on her. Worse, he was pretty sure she’d worn the heart attack-inducing skirt for the accounting twerp, Gary, whom he wished had never been hired. Would she really go out with the guy? Sleep with him?
Not if Noah could help it. He’d waited ten years to have her. Gritted his teeth through two pregnancies and a rocky marriage to a guy who had never appreciated her as he should have. Tim wasn’t a total jerk, just self-absorbed. Lauren deserved more.
Now, Noah was here to show her who he was, aside from having been Tim’s college pal. She had to experience him in a way not related to the past, having nothing to do with being her boss. To see how she could be with him—no ex-husbands, business meetings, or clothes between them.
Once he had her sated…then he’d reveal himself. They’d talk. And he would hope like hell she could admit to the something sizzling between them. He’d build on that. She knew he wasn’t a selfish workaholic like Tim, but she had to understand that he’d devote himself to her pleasure and happiness. She liked and respected him. They connected intellectually, shared plenty in common, such as a quirky sense of humor. But Lauren thought of him as her surrogate big brother/Tim’s buddy. He had to change her opinion.
Starting tonight.
Blood whipped through his veins, lashed him with heat, as he stepped into the nearly quiet bedroom and made his way across the shadowy space. The sounds of canned sitcom laughter, with the volume turned very low, reached his ears. Damn thing better not wake her, he thought with a scowl.
She’d changed the furniture since
Tim’s departure. Good. Even if the house was the same, for the girls’ sake, she’d replaced more intimate reminders of her marriage. In place of the Spartan mission-style furniture they’d had before, Lauren had bought pieces that looked feminine, golden warm, and stylishly weathered. An intricate wrought-iron headboard made him smile.
All the curves and curls in that design would come in handy very soon.
He reached her side, eased the bag onto the carpeted floor, and took a moment to contemplate the feast of female as he stared down into her placid face. Silvery tracks glistened on her cheek. Noah’s smile fell. Had she been…crying?
He sank to his knees and looked closely. Yes, she had. The tears had fallen down her cheeks and dried as she’d drifted off. Even now, he could see her eyes were puffy, her nose a bit red.
The sight hit him like a battering ram to the gut. If the tears had anything to do with her girls or anything else she held dear, he’d hold her and help her find a way to make it better. If it had anything to do with Mr. Mysterious, as she put it, failing to put in an appearance…well, he’d soothe her ache right now.
Noah fished a pair of velvet-lined cuffs from his bag and gently slipped one around Lauren’s sleep-lax wrist. He frowned in concentration, his heart pounding like a sledgehammer into his chest. The next wrist, still tucked under her cheek, would prove more of a challenge. He had to do it without waking her. He couldn’t risk her panicking, thinking she had a burglar or rapist, and possibly hurting herself.
While pondering the best way to move Lauren, she helped him out and rolled to her back.
He nearly swallowed his tongue. The red lace of the camisole hugged the curves of her breasts. The little velvet laces could barely contain her. Soft, round flesh spilled over the cups, tempting him with the pounding need to get on top of her, get deep inside of her, make sure she knew she was his.
One thing at a time…he reminded himself. Secure her, then fuck her. Waiting wasn’t an option. He’d already done plenty of that.
Carefully, he reached for Lauren’s other wrist and brought it up to the waiting cuff he’d fed through one of the iron headboard’s curves. In response, she moaned, fidgeted, and pressed her thighs together. She wriggled her hips, then lifted them in his direction. Another moan, this one longer, lower, left her lush mouth. He started sweating again.