Kiss Me Once, Kiss Me Twice

by Kimberly Raye

  “It slipped, but you didn’t notice it, did you?” “Whatever. Look, are we done yet because I’ve got pictures to take.”

  “I’m sure the press got plenty of you spinning out. I would think you’d had enough pictures today.”

  “Shit happens, man.”

  “Shit happens, or you made it happen?”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Where were you Friday night?”

  Tuck eyed Clint for a long time before shrugging. “You tell me. You obviously already know.”

  “Damned right I know. You were dancing it up at some bar in town. You, a few of your MTV buddies, a few women, and a lot of beer.”

  “It wasn’t that much. It was no big deal.”

  “We’re talking Winston Cup,” Clint exploded. “Everything is a big deal, particularly when you’re driving the next day. But then you won’t have to worry about that if you keep this up.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “That you forget test laps in Atlanta and take the next three days off. You’re suspended. I’d suggest you use the time to think about where you’re going and what you’re doing, and get yourself into an AA program by Friday.”

  “Or what?”

  “Or you’re fired.”

  “This isn’t fair. You can’t dictate my personal life.”

  “I can when it affects your job.”

  “I don’t drink before I get behind the wheel. I’m stone-cold sober.”

  “And dog tired, and hungover after partying it up all night and making the headlines.”

  “I’m just blowing off steam. You need to lighten up.” “You’re blowing this season, is what you’re doing. Lindy’s got a number for you to call.” He turned to her and motioned her forward.

  She stepped to attention and avoided any comment. Clint eyed her a moment, as if surprised that she kept quiet. Of course, he figured she’d be ready with an “I told you so”.

  She should have been ready, but for some reason she wasn’t. She was tired herself and for some reason, gloating seemed like too much work. Instead, she produced one of her business cards, looked up the number in question on her Palm Pilot and scribbled it on the back while Clint turned to Tuck.

  “Call it and get your shit straight, or don’t come back.” “You won’t fire me,” Tuck said as Clint turned toward the door.

  “I hope I won’t have to,” his boss called over his shoulder before he disappeared through the door that led to the garage area where #62 had been towed after the race.

  “Nice working for you,” Tuck called after him. “Thanks for being such an understanding guy.”

  “You’re a jackass, do you know that?” Lindy asked as she turned toward him.

  “I sure do, darlin’. You see fit to inform me every chance you get.”

  “Obviously, it hasn’t sunk in. What are you doing? Why are you pushing him?”

  “What do you care? You ought to be happy he wants to fire me. You can’t stand me.”

  “Whether or not I like you has nothing to do with your driving ability or today’s disaster. You’re still in a good position. Your points are solid. You’d be stupid to blow it because you can’t control your wild side.” She handed him the card. “Get smart.”

  “Thanks for the advice, but no thanks. It wasn’t me.” Even so, he stuffed the card into his pocket instead of tossing it back at her. His gaze met hers and there was something about the look in his eyes that told her he was telling the truth. “I had that pass. I know I was out of the line, I heard the spotter. But I was still in the draft.”

  The draft was when cars raced single file down the track and shared airflow. It was a factor of aerodynamics that became even more important when drivers raced the larger tracks. The basic theory was that cars go faster when they race in line because the lead car punches an imaginary hole in the air and the cars behind it slip more easily through that hole. Out of line, the engine had to work harder, therefore slowing down the car.

  “You were out of line,” she told him.

  “Not when the car slipped,” he growled, his temper rising.

  “You were out of line and you slipped.”

  “I was in line and then the car slipped, just like it slipped during practice.”

  “It did slip,” she said accusingly. “Why didn’t you say something?”

  He shrugged, his gaze guarded once again. “I thought I could handle it myself.”

  “You don’t have to handle it yourself. There’s a whole team here to help you. Geez, you have such an advantage over all these other drivers. Your owner is one of the best. If you think that he’s never had a car slip on him, think again. Why didn’t you just tell him?”

  “It’s too late now.”

  She shook her head before leveling a stare at him. “I was wrong about you.”

  “I’m not a jackass?”

  “Yes, you’re a jackass, but now I realize it’s not just an act. The whole time I thought you were just pretending to get media attention.”

  “I never pretend.”

  “Exactly.” She indicated his pocket. “Just don’t be an unemployed jackass.”

  “And forfeit the chance to add another adjective to the title?”

  “Trust me, it’s worth the risk.” She turned and did her damndest to ignore the prickle of awareness that shot through her and told her he was watching her.

  “Don’t be shy, darlin’. Tell me how you really feel.” “I think you’ve had enough bad news for one day,” she called out over her shoulder. “I wouldn’t want to add to the list by telling you how much you get on my nerves.”

  “You want me,” he called after her.

  “You’re crazy.”

  “Crazy over the way you’re swinging your hips. Anybody ever tell you you’ve got a really hot walk?”

  “All the time,” she said, blowing off his comment as she pushed through the door and walked out into the pit area. She didn’t have a hot anything, and Tuck Briggs knew it. He was just flirting with her like he did all women. No way did he actually mean what he’d said.

  Guys like Tuck didn’t mean anything when they flirted with women like Lindy, and they certainly didn’t lust after them. She wasn’t pretty enough or big-breasted enough or blond enough for a man like Tuck, who cared more about looking cool than actually being cool.

  Now if she could just remember that when he trained those deep brown eyes on her and made her feel like the last petit four at one of her mother’s infamous Ladies of Town luncheons.

  Tuck Briggs did not want her, and she didn’t want him, and that was that. No matter how much her hormones screamed otherwise.

  After an exhausting plane ride, Clint should have headed straight home to bed. He’d had a shitty day and the sooner it ended the better. He knew that, but he found himself on Skye’s doorstep later that night anyway.

  He liked her. He really liked her.

  He’d admitted that to himself when she’d admitted the truth to him—that she hated fishing. He’d expected to be turned off, but damned if he hadn’t been all the more turned on. He’d still wanted to kiss her. More than ever, in fact, because she’d looked so miserable standing there and he’d wanted to make her feel better.

  But while he liked her, he wasn’t positive she felt the same way. He had a sneaking suspicion, though, and it drove him. He passed a hand over his face and punched the doorbell.

  “What are you doing here?” Skye asked around a mouthful of Tootsie Pop.

  “I thought we could talk.”

  She pulled the candy from her mouth, her gaze widening. “You want to talk?”

  “I need to talk. Things didn’t go so well.”

  “I saw.” For a split second, warmth flashed in her gaze, feeding his suspicion about her true feelings. He actually thought she might reach out, but then something seemed to snap and she stiffened. “That was a tough break.”

  “I gave him an ultimatum.”

  “
Who—” she started, but then she seemed to catch herself. “I mean, I would love to hear the rest, but I’m really busy right now.”

  “Doing what?”

  “Working.”

  “With a handful of Tootsie Pops?”

  “I know they look like candy, but they’re for work. Research,” she blurted. “I’m developing a new foreplay technique and it uses Tootsie Pops. Yeah,” she smiled, as if pleased with herself at the explanation. “That’s it. The candy is for a new technique that’s sure to revolutionize the female orgasm.”

  She was feeding him a load of bunk. He knew it even before she licked her lips and averted her gaze. She obviously didn’t want to talk to him, but he wasn’t so sure why. Because she really didn’t like him, or because she didn’t want to like him?

  He could press her for answers, but that would only make her that much more nervous, and that much more determined to change the subject. Or he could go along for the ride and see what happened...

  She licked her lips again and his groin tightened and he knew instantly which route he was going to take.

  A new technique to revolutionize the female orgasm? The words echoed in Skye’s head as she stared up at Clint. Okay, so it was a little out there as far as concept, but she’d never been one to think fast on her feet. Her nerves were jumping and her heart was pounding and she was desperate. And surprised.

  She hadn’t expected Clint to show up on her doorstep. And she certainly hadn’t expected him to show up wanting to talk.

  Nor had she expected him to show up looking so tired and worn and defeated.

  His hair was disheveled. Exhaustion rimmed his eyes. His shoulders didn’t seem as broad as usual. He looked nothing like the cocky, self-assured Cowboy who made it his business to win, and everything like a man who was fast learning what it was like to lose.

  And damned if she didn’t feel the familiar stirring in her belly. And something else... something softer.

  Holy Mother of God, he wanted to talk to her.

  No way, no how. It wasn’t happening. Their relationship was all about sex, and so Skye did the one thing she felt certain would keep them on the straight and narrow.

  She kissed him.

  He didn’t respond at first, but then she swept her tongue across his bottom lip and his mouth opened. He returned her kiss with a fierceness that took her breath away and eased the panic beating in her chest.

  “That was nice, but what I really want is—”

  She pressed her fingertips to his lips and said, “Positions eleven through twenty.”

  He gripped her wrist and pulled her hand away and she braced herself for what would come next.

  “Actually, I really want a demonstration of this new technique. The positions can wait.” He backed her into the foyer and closed the door behind him.

  A determined light gleamed in his eyes, as if he’d decided to let her change the subject and steer them onto safer ground.

  Let her, as in he still meant to stay in control. To keep her on the defensive.

  But Skye didn’t play defense. She was all about offense, even if she had no clue as to what her next move would be.

  “So?” He arched a dubious brow at her.

  “So . . .” She licked her lips and shoved a pop into her mouth. “First you have to suck on the candy.”

  “And then?”

  “Well, you keep sucking until your mouth fills with flavor and the pop is thoroughly wet. In the meantime...”

  Her mind riffled through a variety of possibilities before settling on one in particular. One guaranteed to not only put him on the defensive, but keep him there for a very long time.

  “In the meantime,” she said around the candy, “you have to take off your clothes.” She sucked on the pop and slowly unbuttoned her blouse.

  With every button, his gaze darkened to reach a deep, dark flame blue when she finally let the silk blouse slide from her shoulders. Her bra quickly followed until she was naked from the waist up, and his gaze practically smoldered.

  But there was something else in the dark depths when he looked at her. Something that sent a wave of self consciousness through her and scrambled her thoughts.

  “After the clothes,” she started, desperate to push aside the strange thoughts. This was sex and she was reading too much into the situation. “After the clothes,” she said again, “you have to—”

  “You’ve still got clothes on,” he cut in.

  I knew that, she told herself as she glanced down and saw her slacks still firmly in place. She’d just been trying to build anticipation. Prolong the excitement.

  She reached for the button on her slacks. The opening slid free and she pushed the pants down and shoved them aside. Her fingers hesitated on the edge of her thong, but then she braced her shoulders and shoved the lace all the way down until she stood completely naked and vulnerable.

  Vulnerable?

  She most certainly was not vulnerable. She was au naturel, that was all. He was looking at her body, not beneath. Even if she did get the sudden feeling that he saw a lot more than she wanted him to.

  Crazy. This was sex.

  She held tight to the thought and reached for the Tootsie Pop in her mouth.

  “Once you’re completely naked,” she touched the pop to her bottom lip and rubbed it back and forth, “it’s time to really have some fun. Tootsie Pops are all about sucking, so the first thing you do is flavor things up so that the sucking is tasty.”

  He swallowed and she knew her words had sparked all sorts of ideas. Then his gaze darkened and she knew his thoughts had shifted to what she was about to do, rather than why she was doing it.

  The realization fed her courage and she licked the lollipop again before touching it to the tip of her nipple. She swirled the candy around the tip and it ripened, pressing against the hardness, absorbing its flavor. She delivered the same treatment to her other breast and a moan worked its way up her throat.

  Maybe she was really onto something after all.

  “This feels really good,” she murmured. But it was nothing compared to the feel of his mouth closing over her bare breast and sucking her grape-flavored nipple.

  Her knees buckled and she slumped against him as he suckled, drawing on her so hard that she felt the pull between her legs.

  Another moan and he lifted her, carrying her into the bedroom and easing her down onto her comforter.

  “Pretty interesting technique so far,” he said as he leaned back to stare down at her. He pulled his T-shirt up over his head and tossed it to the side.

  He had such a great chest, dusted with that silky dark hair. Her gaze touched on his nipples and an idea struck.

  “Your turn.” She climbed up onto her knees and touched the lollipop to the tip of one dark nipple. He didn’t take his eyes off her, his gaze dark and smoldering.

  She leaned forward and drew the small nub into her mouth. He tasted sweet and fruity and heat flooded between her legs. She sucked harder, devouring him until his hand closed around the back of her head and he pulled her away from him.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked.

  “This is all about the female orgasm, remember?” He pushed her back, took the Tootsie Pop and slid down her body. He parted her thighs and settled himself between them.

  Before she could draw her next breath, he trailed the pop along her slick folds and sensation bolted through her. The candy was slick and hard and she closed her eyes, her fingers digging into the soft mattress. A flush crept over her skin, spreading like wild fire.

  But while the candy itself felt pretty pleasurable, sliding back and forth along her flesh, it was nothing compared to the bolt of heat that rushed through her when he slid the pop a fraction inside and twirled the stick.

  A moan burst past her lips and she arched, so close to going over the edge. Just a little more. Just...

  He pulled back and left her hanging long enough to take a quick deep breath. And then his mouth was on her. He stroked
and licked and sucked, and she came in a blur of dizzying sensation that swept over her like a huge wave and tossed her to and fro. And as she lay there, heart pounding, her body alive and pulsing, she realized she had, indeed, revolutionized the female orgasm.

  Her own, anyhow.

  Thanks to Clint and his Tootsie Pop Twist.

  Chapter Seventeen

  “This guy must really be something,” Jenny said on Wednesday evening as she gathered up rubber penises.

  “What are you talking about?” Skye packed up her workshop materials while the hostess and few remaining guests stood near the dining room table devouring the last of the refreshments. The proverbial after-sex munching. Or in this case, after-talking-about-sex munching.

  “You,” Jenny said. “I’ve never seen you like this.” “Am I glowing again?” Skye reached into her briefcase and pulled out a compact.

  “As a matter of fact, yes, but that’s not what I’m talking about. I’m talking the inner you, not the outer you.” When Skye gave her a puzzled look, she added, “You answered five questions from the floor tonight that weren’t on the note cards.”

  Skye’s mind riffled back through the past hour. “They were easy questions.”

  “Easy has never figured in before, not to mention there’s an entire plate of Famous Amos sitting over there and you haven’t so much as glanced in that direction.”

  “I’ve kicked the habit.” Thanks to Clint. Since he’d shown up at her house on Sunday night and helped her with her new sex technique—number twenty-one of the recommended top twenty—she’d been cookie free and loving it. Of course, she still had a thing for the Tootsie Pops but they were a lot less calories, not to mention a lot more fun.

  In fact, the past two days had been the most fun she’d had in a very long time. After her initial freak-out about his talking comment and the great sex that had followed, she’d opened her eyes several hours later and realized what an idiot she’d been. As if not talking to him could help keep things in the proper perspective between them.

  They were so very different that talking to him wasn’t about to bridge the gap. In fact, talking was just what she needed.