Torrid Teasers Volume 23

by J. T. Schultz, Cassi Armstrong

  "Yes, I'm sure. If he's in the apartment above mine, it's him."

  Ms. Jenkins shifted her weight, looking up at her.

  Sarah could still hear the banging over Ms. Jenkins’ voice.

  "Sounds like he's tryin’ to knock down a wall.” The woman stared past Sarah and smiled. “You got something in the oven?"

  Sarah beamed, thinking she smelled her cheesecake, until she turned around. The living room was filling up with smoke. She thought her day couldn't possibly get any worse than this, until the smoke alarm started blaring.

  "Shit!” Sarah left the woman and went to investigate. Her kitchen was filled with a fine smoky mist. Her eyes watered as she opened the oven door, hoping to salvage her cheesecake. Waving through the smoke, she reached in and pulled out the dessert.

  "Ouch!” She dropped the pan onto the stovetop, and then stood back, starring at it.

  Now it was a flattened pan of goop. Damn it.

  She cradled her head in her hands as her headache became full-blown. This was all his fault. Cakes fell from loud noises. She couldn't take it anymore, the damn cake, or his damn pounding. Raw rage raced down her spine as she swiped the pan of goop off the stovetop, leaving a wide yellow arc across her wall and floor.

  Chapter 2

  Ten minutes later, one smoke alarm dismantled, a smoke-filled kitchen and a gooey mess splattered across her kitchen floor, Sarah sat down at the table, head between her knees, trying to not go berserk. How could such a mess happen to her? It shouldn't be this hard to bake a damn cheesecake.

  She stopped, sitting rigid in the chair. She had to be hearing things. Two voices in her apartment. Had someone called the fire department?

  No. One of the voices was familiar. She could hear Ms. Jenkins’ craggy voice followed by a deep masculine voice.

  "Oh, don't mind any of the mess. I think this one likes to live messy."

  "Shouldn't we call out to her or something?"

  "No. That one never answers, and if she does, I'll most likely die of heart failure before she actually says anything. There were a couple of times in the past, you see, where I came knocking on that door of hers. No, she doesn't like to answer. I think she is like that with everyone though, not just me. So, it would be best to just shuffle through this mess to where she is."

  Mess? There wasn't a thing out of place in her apartment. And why was she bringing other people into her place? Sarah glanced up just as Ms. Jenkins pulled the beefy guy from upstairs into the room behind her. Matt Lowery. The man who'd just stretched his magnificent body across her mind was now standing in front of her, wearing only a pair of old jeans. He looked even better in person.

  Thick reddish-brown, ruffled hair, with eyes that could have been the envy of many women; striking, glowing green surrounded by thick, long dark fringes. His nude abs were bunched and shiny from what looked like sweat. His legs, encased in those jeans were like tree trunks. And he was standing in her smoke-filled kitchen, starring about at the huge mess before him. Any minute now, either the floor was going to open up and swallow her, or she'd wake up from this nightmare.

  "Sarah, this is the gentleman from upstairs, Matthew Lowery. We, me and Sarah, were just having a little chatter before I came upstairs.” She turned towards Matt, as if Sarah was no longer in the room.

  "There was this loud, atrocious noise coming from the ceiling when I was in my apartment. And, of course now, you know my apartment is below Sarah's."

  Sarah watched Matt cross his muscular arms over his chest as he listened to the old woman.

  "I came up here to see what she was doing. I thought she had a man up here. You know, I don't approve of things like that, being old-fashioned and all."

  Matt glanced up, over Ms. Jenkins’ white hair and sent Sarah an amused smile. He lifted his dark brows, as if asking if she'd been a naughty girl.

  "So I came up here to have a look for myself,” Ms. Jenkins continued, not noticing the verbal glance.

  Sarah's felt her face growing hotter as Ms. Jenkins continued with her story. “I can assure you there was no man."

  Again, he lifted a mischievous gaze her way, sending her a slow and deliberate wink. “But, I still couldn't figure out where that awful noise was coming from, interrupting my fine afternoon. Any-who, that's when her smoke bells went off. By the way, child, what were you trying to cook? It looks like hell up here."

  The heat of fire burned across Sarah's face, matching the sting of her fingertips. Cheesecake. She'd been baking a damn cheesecake. Of course, she knew she had no business baking anything. After all, that's what bakeries were for.

  Ms. Jenkins cleared her throat.

  "Cheesecake.” It came out beneath her breath. She wished right then and there she could crawl under a rock.

  "What was that, my dear? You'll have to speak up. My hearing ain't so good as it was in the old days."

  "Cheesecake,” Sarah said a little louder. Although it was calmly said, she felt as if she'd yelled it by the look on Ms. Jenkins’ face. Her face was screwed up in confusion.

  "Cheesecake? You did this with a cheesecake? Well, that is okay. Mattie here is a fine cooker, aren't you, my boy?"

  "Yes, ma'am.” He smiled, trying to hide his amusement. Cheesecake.

  He slid a look at the lush little beauty perched on the barstool. She resembled a cheesecake picture with her little tank top, shapely legs climbing to her little shorts. He'd noticed her last week while moving in. A little on the short side, but that long, silky dark brown hair made up for it. He longed to reach out and wrap a lock of it around his fingers just so he could rub it against his skin. She had the largest brown eyes he'd ever seen. Her lips formed a perfect pout, thick and luscious. Everything about her was setting off things inside of him that he had long forgotten he possessed. He watched as those lips blew onto her fingers.

  "Did you burn yourself?” He couldn't help himself. He stepped closer, reaching for her hands.

  "It's nothing.” Sarah leaned back as he moved closer. He took hold of her hands and inspected the reddened fingertips.

  "They're hot,” he teased, grinning at her. For a second, she stared helplessly at the dimple the grin pushed deep into his rugged jaw. “Oven mitts. Ever hear of them?"

  Was he making fun of her? Just who in the hell did he think he was? She jerked her fingers from his grasp and slid from the stool. Her head came only to his chest, but it didn't stop her. She'd had just about enough.

  "I have heard of them. I hear just fine! As a matter of fact, it was all the noise you were making that made the cake fall to begin with."

  He pushed his face closer, a look of astonished amusement etched on his rugged features. “For your information, Betty Crocker, there are only two ways to make a cheesecake fall!"

  "Oh, really!"

  "Yeah!” He lifted one hand and held up a finger. “You opened and closed the oven door ... repeatedly, or..."

  "Or what?"

  He turned slightly, indicating the mess in her floor. “You dropped it!"

  "Whew!” Ms. Jenkins said, making Sarah aware she was still in the room.

  "He really told you! Sounds like someone needs some lessons in cooking, eh, Mattie?"

  She stared up at him. His jaw was set stubbornly, his green eyes now darkened with slashing dark brows. She could see he was breathing a bit harder ... and so was she.

  "Cooking lessons, oh yeah,” he said. “Maybe one or two in anger management."

  "Anger? Just what were you doing up there?” Sarah demanded. Her legs shook.

  "Hanging art."

  "Oh. So, Art wasn't exactly dead yet, before you started?” Sarah stood, hands on hips, a few inches from him. He hadn't moved and she could still feel the delicious hot heat from him seep through her thin tank top.

  Matt stared back at the little beauty before him. When was the last time he'd met a woman with this much spunk? He was really enjoying this. He smiled, wondering if she had any idea how tight and inviting her nipples looked. He wond
ered what she would do if he used his finger to lift a glob of cheesecake from her top.

  "For the sake of the building, maybe I should teach her a thing or two.” He lifted his brow, his mouth set in an open, almost feral dare.

  "Oh. If you aren't the most...” Sarah began to speak but was cut off by Matt.

  "I am, aren't I? Tell me something, Sara Lee. Why bother with all of this? Hoping to impress a man?"

  "How did—"

  "Aha!"

  "How did you know my name?” She realized, too late, she had just handed him his biggest laugh of the day.

  Matt stared, transfixed as the squirming little warrior almost evaporated before him. Her face reddened. He rubbed his hand over his jaw slowly. “You're kidding."

  He watched as her large brown eyes became shadowed, giving her features a sullen look. Quickly, he added, “Ms. Jenkins must have told me. So, why a cheesecake?"

  "It's a long story."

  "It always is. So, this man..."

  "I don't need to cook to impress a man."

  "A good thing, that."

  "Those peahens friends of yours comin’ over again? They were just here. All that noise,” Ms. Jenkins interjected, stepping closer to them.

  "That was last year, Ms. Jenkins. Besides, with Mattie in residence, you should be getting used to noise.” Sarah snorted, smiling triumphantly.

  "Tell you what, Sarah Lee. It just so happens that I have a killer cheesecake recipe. So, you just knock on my door if you want to get your hands on it. Now, if you ladies will excuse me, I think I smell something in the oven, not burning."

  Chapter 3

  Matt lifted the pastry tube and squeezed the fluffy filling into the delicate shell. He loved cooking and sometimes became so focused in creating, he found his thoughts leading him somewhere else. This afternoon, as he squeezed the puff through the tube, he thought of Sarah Lee. He hadn't wanted to leave earlier, but had felt his cock trying to get into the action and it had been leave or embarrass someone. Not him, and certainly not Ms. Jenkins.

  Sarah was short, slender with curves in all the right places. She was hot, yet she had given off the distinct impression that she was unattainable. If he closed his eyes, he could still see the image of her nipples straining through her little tank. Good God, he'd wanted to drag her shirt up and see if they were as dark and tempting as they had appeared.

  The day on the stairs had been like some sort of omen. He had passed her on the stairway, immediately liking what he'd seen, and had thought he'd seen a spark of interest in those dark eyes of hers, but she'd turned and walked away.

  He lifted his finger and sucked the sweet confection into his mouth. It was no small wonder he was thinking about sex. Just seeing her standing in her kitchen had brought fantasies of him stripping her bare and pushing something inside her. She had actually raised herself onto her toes. If she ever did that again, he'd be there with a little something for her.

  The knock on his door suddenly brought his lust-filled brain back to reality. He smiled wickedly as he stuck raspberries on top of the shell and topped it off with a combination of whipped cream and raspberry syrup.

  "Mmm. Mm, mm, mmm,” he hummed appreciatively, laying the tube on the counter to wipe off his hands.

  Sarah had waged war with herself while cleaning up her mess, cursing Matt. Cursing his eyes, lit up with mischief. Cursing his sensuous firm mouth as he had argued with her. She had debated whether or not to take him up on his offer. It was an argument all the way up the stairs. She knocked before she could stop herself and now she was stuck.

  Incredibly, the thought of him on the other side of the door brought a dampness that had nothing to do with nerves.

  The door swung open and there he was, still without a shirt, towel draped over his broad shoulder, and smacking his firm lips around his finger. He appeared almost startled to see her standing there.

  "Sarah."

  "I was hoping I could get that recipe from you."

  He leaned against the door and grinned at her. “Nope."

  Was he kidding? “You said—"

  "I said I had a killer recipe. I never said I would give it to you."

  She felt her face flaming. Couldn't blame him. Why would anyone give her a recipe that didn't start with priming your fire extinguisher. She started to turn away when she felt his fingers graze her arm.

  "I just meant that a chef never gives away his secrets."

  "You're a chef?"

  He opened the door in a wide arc, waving her inside. “Don't be scared. I don't bite, unless provoked.” He grinned, reaching out, curling his fingers around her wrist. “Come on. I'd love to show you around."

  She allowed him to pull her inside, noticing immediately the dark colors of his walls. His apartment exuded masculinity as well as sexuality. From the clean lines of his furniture to the darker shades. Even his accents shouted of primal tastes.

  "You like?"

  "I didn't realize we could paint the walls."

  "We probably can't. I never asked. Is it too dark?"

  "No. I like it dark."

  "So, does Ms. Jenkins really use that key of hers any time she wants?"

  "Um, yeah. Pretty much. I'd be careful, if I were you."

  "Well, if you were me, you wouldn't care if she barged in. I get the feeling she's lonely. Or,” his voice softened as he turned towards her. “Maybe she wants to catch you in the act."

  "Yeah,” Sarah muttered, feeling flames engulf her face as her eyes landed on the raspberry cannoli. Was it her, or was it just hot in his kitchen? “That would be an act. So, you're really a chef?"

  "Yep."

  She watched as he swiped his finger through leftover whipped topping and brought it to his mouth, licking all of it off.

  "Good. Very good,” he all but moaned.

  She felt her mouth go dry as his lips formed into a smile and he swiped his finger through the whipped topping again.

  He had an expectant gleam in his eyes as he held his finger in midair.

  "Want a taste?"

  She looked from his finger to his face. He was smirking. He was daring her. Daring! When was the last time she had been dared?

  She held his gaze with her own as her tongue peeked out. She watched Matt's expression growing harder as she neared the whipped topping. She slowly swiped her tongue along the edge, swirling the white fluffy goodness around her tongue. She was only paying him back for teasing her over the oven mitts. The little moan wasn't planned, but she went with it, closing her eyes and savoring the taste, just before her lips closed completely over his finger, sliding it slowly back out of her mouth.

  The widening of his eyes was worth making a fool of herself.

  Chapter 4

  "Are you going to tell me what's wrong with you?"

  Sarah ignored Candace's third attempt at ferreting out the reason for her dark mood. Why the hell should it matter so much? She slid the cookie sheet onto the stovetop, slamming the oven door with a loud bang. With her bare fingers, she bravely nudged one of the Chinese egg rolls.

  "Nothing's wrong with me.” She was just a complete idiot! Leave it to her to sexually harass one of her neighbors. A police officer would probably be breaking down her door with an arrest warrant any minute, or worse ... Ms. Jenkins would come up with an eviction notice.

  "Oh, right. Who is he?"

  "I just thought I had more time to prepare for tonight, that's all."

  "A few more glasses of wine and you'll be telling me all about him.” Candace slid a freshly filled glass towards her. “I thought you were determined to bake something for tonight."

  "I just did.” Sarah snapped up the emptied box and began to read. “Remove frozen egg rolls. Bake at three hundred fifty degrees."

  "That's not the same."

  "Well, I didn't have time."

  Before Candace could delve any further, they heard a noise from the apartment above.

  "New neighbor?"

  "Pain in the ass neighbor.�
� Sarah watched Candace look up towards the noise, a smile flirting on her face. “What?"

  "So, what's his name?"

  "Who?"

  "Sarah, come on. You may not realize it, but I haven't seen you behaving like this since, well, since before that asshole you married. It's about time, if you ask me."

  "Matt has nothing to do with it."

  "Matt. Has a nice ring to it. So, what's he like? Is he hung? How much money does he make?"

  "Candace!"

  "Well? Looks aren't everything."

  "You sound like Felicity.” Sarah sipped her wine. “She's not coming, is she?"

  "Afraid so ... back to this pain in the ass."

  The knock on her door brought a merciful end to the inquisition. Holding the door, she watched as the peahen friends of hers paraded inside, hugging, talking, and laughing. Most of these women were her friends. They didn't care if she could cook or not. Sure, it was a joke with some, Felicity especially. Smiling, she began to close the door, wondering what color she should paint her living room. Raspberry came to mind, but she squelched the idea. Raspberry reminded her of pastry and pastry reminded her of...

  "Matt!” She jerked the door back before she shut it in his face. There he was, in her doorway, dressed, and holding a tray aloft in one hand.

  Sarah stood there, speechless.

  Matt smiled, bright white, even teeth. A lone dimple appeared on his left cheek before disappearing. He cleared his throat.

  "I brought these for you. I thought that you could use them.” His voice was coarse and deep. She smiled up at him. At first, he was certain she was only being polite in front of her friends, until he watched the bloom on her cheeks. He licked his lips, imagining other things he would like to give her, other than food, and none of them decent. She was meant to be loved, held, wild above him, her hair brushing his chest as he filled her. He shifted his position, feeling a little heady at the stiffness behind the too tight confinement of his zipper.

  He wanted her right there, in the hallway, in front of everyone. He could just imagine her soft lips on his and then, like magic, they were. He didn't even notice the clatter as he dumped the tray to the floor. Bending, he wrapped an arm around her waist and drew her to him. He knew her feet had left the floor and she was exactly where she needed to be. A groan escaped, but where from he couldn't tell. It could have been Sarah, but it could have been him as well. Her tight nipples scrubbed his chest and he felt his erection throb with life against her stomach.