Going Under

by Jeffe Kennedy

  “Okay,” he answered, keeping his voice even. “How about just fucking then?”

  A tactical gambit. Despite the old saw—almost certainly an urban myth—about the guy who picked up women by asking them if they wanted to fuck because eventually one would say yes, it never really worked. In rare cases, however, with the right woman, it could be the right way to cut through tangled expectations. A deliberate shock and maybe a bit of illicit thrill. If she had already been thinking about it, and Fox would bet money she had.

  She stared at him, knocked out of her argument, and he returned her gaze steadily. Come on, Emily. A hundred and eighty degrees from long chats by the fire. Her flush returning, she looked away, but not before he noted the heat filling her eyes and her tongue flicking out to lick her lips.

  Oh, he had her.

  “If you don’t date, then it’s been a while, I’m guessing,” he pointed out, very reasonably. “You have your reasons and I’m sure they’re good ones. But I’m only here for a short time, so you don’t have to worry about me wanting to move in with you and forcing you to have long conversations.”

  She smiled a little, still looking out over the water, and he knew he had her attention. Reel her in, slow but sure.

  “I like you, Emily. Everything I know so far has me riveted. I think you feel the attraction, too. You don’t want this to get personal? I’m willing to take what I can get. Let me take you to bed one time—a trial run.”

  Her gray eyes lighter than the darkening sky came back to him, assessing. Definitely thinking about it. “A one-night stand—no strings attached?”

  “If that’s what you want.”

  “But you think I’ll want more.” Her voice had a throaty quality, going whiskey dark. She was killing him, the conversation making him hotter for her by the minute. So close he could taste her on his tongue already.

  He clenched his hands inside the pockets and smiled to blow off some of his raging tension. “Yes. Yes, I do.”

  Deliberately, a mocking tilt to her head, she stepped back and looked him over, head to toe. “You sound pretty confident.”

  Goddamn, she was definitely flirting with him again. Sometimes he impressed even himself. “How about a small demonstration?” He didn’t have to make his voice sultry. Keeping it out of a growl was the challenge.

  “I want to see your abs.” She met his eyes and smiled, clearly enjoying having taken him by surprise.

  “Let me guess—Glory said something.”

  Emily laughed, a light breath of the real one, but she looked pleased, eyes sparkling with humor and, if he didn’t mistake the mark, lust.

  “Right here? On a public beach?”

  “You offered.” She looked up and down the lonesome shore. “And I don’t think you need to worry about onlookers.”

  “This is a first for me,” he pretended to grumble, instead immeasurably excited by her gambit. She could be the hottest lover he’d ever found, with her playfully passionate nature. His cock filled and he tried to master it by acting slightly hesitant, unzipping the sweatshirt and thinking about the cold air, surreptitiously watching her. Her gaze followed his hands with definite interest. Bless Glory and thank God for all those gym hours. Peeling open the sweatshirt, making it a strip tease for her without being too obvious, he fumbled at the hem of his T-shirt, faking shyness. Then lifted it up a scant few inches. “Okay?” He asked, looking over her shoulder and taking in her delicious reaction with his peripheral vision.

  Because she wound her fingers together and—holy Christ—licked her lips again.

  “More,” she ordered.

  God help him, he went to a full cockstand, not comfortable in the tight jock strap, but hopefully it would keep her from noticing. Or, if she did, she’d take it the right way.

  “Yes, ma’am,” he said and raised the shirt higher.

  Chapter Seven

  She had no idea what had gotten into her. Something about Fox sucked her into this morass of prurient thoughts and impulsive flirting, despite her best intentions. She’d come on the run to freeze him out and make it clear they had no future, and here she was, asking to see his abs and entertaining his salacious offer.

  Seriously considering it, especially once she got a good look at him.

  Her fingers itched to touch that golden skin. California tan and tight abs that begged to be nibbled. Plus a coppery treasure trail leading from his navel and disappearing under the waistband of his running pants, which bulged considerably. If she put her hand on him, he’d be hard. Her mouth actually watered with the desire to do so. When would she get another chance to do a guy with this kind of body?

  “As billed?” Fox asked, eyes glittering. She had a feeling he’d pounce on her, if she gave the least sign. It alarmed her how much she wanted him to.

  “Very nice,” she allowed, sounding ridiculously prim, but hey, at least she hadn’t pounced on him. “Thank you.”

  He lowered the shirt but left the zippered sweat open, bisecting the UC and LA. The thin cotton tee, sweat-soaked, clung to him. “Now what?”

  “I don’t know. I have to think.”

  Stepping closer, he gave her a look. Amused, aroused, impatient. “Are you sure that’s what you want to do?”

  “I’m not convinced this is a good idea.” Was it a bad idea? Or was she just in the habit of keeping people away? He’d nearly tripped her up a few times, with the personal questions. It made her realize how sloppy she’d gotten, so accustomed to people on Lyra being used to her and not prying. Fox liked to pry. Or he thought she was like most women and wanted him to express interest in her thoughts and hobbies.

  Of course she’d Googled him. And looked over his stories. She wouldn’t read them, however, because she didn’t want to know that much about him.

  Really, the offer of “just fucking” appealed most. She could handle that. Hell, she wanted it enough she couldn’t recall any of the many good reasons that had seemed so obvious when she left the house. She resisted the urge to back up, even though he’d edged even closer, crowding her. A little space to think, away from his sizzling presence, would probably bring them to the forefront again. “I need some space to think about it.”

  Geez, that was as bad as the “it’s not you, it’s me” blunder.

  “That’s understandable. But I’d hate to think I haven’t made my best case.” His voice had a musing quality, but his eyes filled with a mix of playfulness and fierce intent. “You looked. Shouldn’t you at least make an informed decision, sample the merchandise?”

  “What do you have in mind?” She couldn’t help herself. Playing this game with him felt like sex already. By far the most fun she’d had in ages. The desire to laugh mixed with the urge to reach out those few inches separating them and touch. This close, she smelled his warm, male scent.

  “Let me kiss you.” He purred the words over his lips, compelling her attention.

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because, I—” couldn’t think of a reason.

  “Just take a little taste,” he coaxed.

  His gaze focused on her mouth and she suspected she’d be the one nibbled on. Which sounded amazing. She’d been thinking about his mouth all day—and getting absolutely nowhere with the project. If she kissed him, there would be no going back unless he sucked at it. Very doubtful he would. And if she didn’t do this, she’d just keep going over it in her head. Too late to walk away and be done. Might as well purge him from her system. At least then she could work again.

  Call it stress relief.

  “Okay.” She braced herself, expecting a kiss as ferocious as his expression.

  He didn’t smile. Instead, the tension between them thickened and he moved as if he felt it too. He slid an arm around her waist, almost tender, and pulled her close. His body ste
amed hot against her, those impressive abs hard against her belly. She pressed a hand to his chest, to hold him off if she needed to, but the crisply curling hair beneath his shirt and the flex of his pecs made her want to dig in her nails instead. With his other hand, he touched light fingers to her chin, feathering them along the sensitive skin under her jaw. Her nipples crunched hard and she felt abruptly out of breath.

  “Well?” She tried to sound demanding, but her voice lacked the strength of conviction.

  “Shh.” His mouth pursed sensually as he blew the air across his lips. “I told you I’m into anticipation.”

  “I don’t think I am,” she breathed.

  “It’s an acquired taste.” His lips brushed her cheekbone, the sensation zinging through her. She actually trembled from the tension of the moment, trying to hold still as his mouth made its leisurely way down her cheek to the corner of her jaw, his hand moving behind her neck. “You smell of orange blossoms.”

  It was in her mind to say it was her body wash, but his mouth hovered over hers, then drifted across, a bare brush of the lips. Again, a gentle sampling of her mouth, tasting her, taking her measure. Almost chaste. Except that the touch burned through her, igniting her body. She inhaled and he intensified, following her breath in, deepening the kiss. Almost lazily, he lifted his head and changed the angle to kiss her from the other side, moving back and forth, as if seeking the perfect alignment.

  Relaxing into it, she slid a hand up to the back of his neck, a bit chill from the cooling sweat, the curls there damp.

  Making a satisfied sound that aroused her as much as the kisses, he sank in, urging her mouth open, following with his tongue, not invading but coaxing. With an answering sound of need she responded in kind, touching his tongue with hers, feeling herself go gloriously wet, aware that she was clinging to him and not caring in the least. Pressing tight against his hard body, nearly vibrating with tensile strength, she reveled in the thrust of his erect cock against the inner curve of her hip. The wild desire to wrap her legs around him seized her and she sucked his tongue into her mouth, wanting to devour him any way possible.

  “Oh, Emily,” he muttered against her mouth. “You’re killing me. Say you’re in.”

  It had been a forgone conclusion. Who was she kidding? “One time.”

  “The whole night, with an option to continue.”

  “I won’t want more than that.” She said that with the most conviction she could muster, as much for herself as for him.

  “You haven’t seen anything yet. Leave that door open.” The hand at the small of her back found bare skin, stroking her there.

  “Fine. But, if—when I say so, you agree not to bother me anymore. No pushing.”

  “Can I say hello to you in the grocery store?” His fingers moved slowly over her spine, stirring and enticing.

  “Yes, but no more than that.” She concentrated on ignoring how the simple caress on her skin trickled arousal through her whole body. “No flirting. No asking me out on runs that are thinly veiled seduction attempts.”

  “I have to point out that this was more than an attempt. I’d qualify it as a raging success.”

  He had a point. Why his brash arrogance attracted and charmed her so much, she’d have a hard time pinning down. Maybe it was just nice knowing exactly where she stood with him. No alternate agenda or buried misogyny.

  “All right then. Let’s do this and get it done with.” She let go of him and put distance between them, then looked about for Anansi, who was happily rooting through a nearby pile of rocks. “I’ll take Anansi home and then will be over later.”

  “You’ll be over what?” Fox asked with a teasing smile.

  She didn’t quite know what to say. “To your place. Not mine.” No negotiating that one.

  He nodded ever so slightly at that, as if confirming something he already thought. Then cast an eye at the sky. “But it’s almost full dark.”

  “So?”

  “So.” He reached out a hand and she flinched a bit. Raising an eyebrow for her jumpiness, he pulled the length of her ponytail over her shoulder and ran his fingers through it. “If I maybe only get one night, I want the whole thing. We’re both sweaty and you’ll want to shower, if I don’t miss my guess. Maybe you’ll turn out to be the primping type. You wouldn’t be over for two hours, at least.”

  Surprised at the level of her frustration, she frowned at him. “What’s your point, Fox?”

  “Tomorrow. Four-thirty. Don’t worry, I’ll feed you. And you promise to stay until daybreak.”

  “Are you sure you don’t want to make it Saturday?” She sounded snappish, surprisingly disappointed by the delay.

  “Glory wouldn’t let me bet or I would.”

  “She would have, you know.”

  “I know.” He grinned in that devastating way. “But I found out the prize is for bragging rights only and a gentleman never tells.”

  “Sorry that you’re missing out on the big win.”

  “But I’m not.” He dropped her ponytail, and trailed a finger, the bare tip of it, over her collarbone, eyes intent in the dark gray gloaming. “I suspect I’ve won the equivalent of the Powerball lottery.”

  “With that kind of buildup, I’m afraid you’ll be disappointed.”

  He shook his head, looking thoughtful. “Not possible.” The light touch went lower, finding the upper curve of her breast above the jog bra, where her own zippered sweatshirt parted. “Still, if you’re concerned, I’m willing to make a concession.”

  “What’s that?” She shouldn’t ask, but he’d tucked that finger in the vee of her shirt, tugging her toward him. Damn her weakness, she let him, tipping her head slightly, anticipating the kiss that seemed forthcoming.

  “Come over tonight and tomorrow,” he suggested, then kissed her, adding a brush of his tongue against her upper lip.

  “That’s two nights of sex.”

  “No sex tonight. We can get to know each other. Build the anticipation. Talk and make out on the couch. Second base at most.”

  “I told you, I—”

  “Not that kind of conversation,” he interrupted, kissing the corner of her mouth. “No stories laden with emotional baggage. We can play a game.”

  “A game?” Alarm zinged through her. Was he a gamer? “What kind of game?”

  He tilted his head, considering. “The foreplay kind. To make tomorrow night even better.”

  “Oh.” Of course.

  “What did you think I meant?”

  “You know—the computer kind. I’m not much of a fan.”

  “Role-playing games don’t tempt you?”

  Though she didn’t want to discuss this arena at all, at the risk of tipping her hand, she needed to know if he gamed. “Which do you play?”

  “I don’t,” he answered, without hesitation. “I prefer real life, with all the slow build it brings.”

  “You’re really into this anticipation thing, aren’t you?”

  “Absolutely.” Finger still hooked in her shirt, his forearm brushed her peaked nipple. She couldn’t help the shiver of response and he felt it, his mouth quirking. “It ups my odds of making tomorrow night so fantastic for you that you’ll want to come back, again and again.”

  “And when you get tired of me?” The question popped out of her mouth before she knew it was circling her mind. Not that she carried scars from that shit or anything, oh no. Henry’s voice echoed in her head. I’m just so tired of it all. It’s like you can’t get over this. You never talk about anything else. “Never mind—I take that back.”

  He nearly challenged her on it, that inadvertent dip into revealing something personal. That danger, right there, was why she couldn’t afford even sexual intimacy. Seeming to know that, he nodded and let her go. “See you in a couple of hours, Miss Emily.�
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  * * *

  She jogged the rest of the way home, to burn off some of the steam and simmering excitement. Delighted, Anansi romped beside her. Of course she needed to shower. And maybe primp a little. Fox had seen her looking like hell and didn’t seem to mind, but she could up her game a bit. The interlude would be a little holiday for her. Maybe he’d relent on the second-base thing and go for full sex tonight.

  Men, in her experience, rarely refused that opportunity.

  At the house, she gave Anansi a rubdown with the towels kept in the mudroom for exactly that purpose, so he could stay inside while she was gone. Hopefully he wouldn’t destroy too much stuff. Like his namesake, his capacity for mischief and general troublemaking knew no bounds, particularly when left behind. Of course, she could count on one hand the number of times since coming to Lyra she’d gone out at night and left him behind.

  She showered, using plenty of the orange-blossom body wash her mother had sent last Christmas, and shaved—the primary reason she couldn’t have just gone for sex right then. She hadn’t shaved her legs in forever and had gotten pretty lazy about the armpits too. Why bother when no one saw you?

  Fox had, no doubt about it, likely been with plenty of women. California girls, with their hairless bikini bodies. Patty Kay, down at Likable Locks, offered Brazilian waxes. Em wondered if she should try to get one before tomorrow night. A guy of Fox’s ilk might expect that. She’d never had one but the concept did not appeal. Oh well, Fox could be disappointed—she’d still get her one night of sex and get her head on straight again.

  Just in case, she put on a matching bra and panties—also courtesy of her mother, who never stopped hoping her daughter would return from Indonesia and hunt for a new husband, a more suitable one this time—and, after an intense debate with herself, jeans and low-cut sweater. Red, to match her eyes, she thought ruefully, and reached for the Visine.

  It took a while to put on makeup, too, techniques that had once been second nature now rusty from long disuse. Miraculously none of it had dried up, though the mascara glopped more than it should.