Digging the phone out of her tote, she caught the last ring before it went to voice mail. Her lips curved into an automatic smile at the name on the display. Pressing the talk button, she said, “Hi.” She sat on the chair, sounding breathless to her ears. “Hey there, Sergeant.” She drew a water bottle out of her bag and uncapped it.
“Hey, doll,” Alex said, in his deep, yet soft voice. “Are you out for a run?”
“No. Just busy rushing around.” She took a long swig of water. “And recording some notes.”
“Sergeant?” he said. “Should I ask what that’s all about?”
Shit, she didn’t want to explain it. Not yet. Not on the phone. “I wouldn’t recommend it.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Where have you been for the past week?” she asked.
“Meetings and conference calls,” he said, yawning. “How about you? Doing good?”
Good and horny. “No complaints.”
“Got your message,” he said. “What’s up?”
You in two weeks. “Reece is having a few of us over for pizza and a friendly game of Texas Hold’em tonight. You in?”
“Friendly?” His low chuckle felt like an orgasm for her ears. “Is that what you call it?”
“Okay, so we changed the rules a bit.” Like I’m going to change the rules to our platonic status. “And you didn’t lose that much.” If everything went according to plan he’d be losing his skivvies their first night in Hawaii.
“Right.” Another rich, deep chuckle. “As much as I’d like to donate to your junk food fund,” he said, “I have to take a pass. I’m flying out at midnight.”
She straightened as cold disappointment slapped her chest. Was he bailing from the Hawaiian assignment? “Where are you going?”
“London,” he said. “I’ll be back on Wednesday.”
She resisted the urge to let out a loud whew. “How’s your week been?”
“Long. Frustrating.” She could picture him pacing and looking out the twenty-first floor window. “Glad it’s over.”
She leaned back and crossed her leg. “I’m all ears.”
He told her about the ass-numbing meetings and coma-worthy conference calls he had to endure for over a week. If Alex wasn’t in some godforsaken war zone on the front lines, hunting down a story, he was restless. The last time she caught up with him, he looked exhausted—still hot—but drained. Their joint Hawaiian assignment and her plan would dissolve his stress.
The sound of his voice and the memory of his default scent—soap and sandalwood trees—combined with her horny hormones and the earlier imagery, tensed her nerve endings like a strung bow, tight, contorted and only the sensation of being taken and filled—probably more than twice a day—would decompress her erratic sensual emotions.
She caught site of her flushed nose and cheeks freckled with perspiration. Her nipples—hard as granite pebbles—strained against the silk material. She touched them with the tip of her finger and imagined Alex’s tongue tracing the round outline of the small areolas.
The vision was so vibrant and strong she let out a wordless moan. Gawd, if the fantasy combined with his voice made her tingle in wet anticipation, naked reality with Alex would detonate a lust bomb inside her and she’d disintegrate.
Tiny white dots flashed in front of her eyes. Head rush made her moan. Again.
Holy seared estrogen. She was so turned on, she was afraid the heat inside her would melt her panties off. He’s gotta come through in Hawaii. And come with me. Many, many times. Another involuntary moan slipped out—a loud one.
Her hand flew to her mouth, she held her breath in hopes he hadn’t heard her.
“Mads?” he said. “Are you okay?”
Damn. He heard.
The persistent knocking on the change room door startled her out of her adrenalized state.
“Excuse me,” a woman said in a pack-a-day voice. “We do not allow inappropriate behavior in our dressing rooms.”
Oh, geeze. Shit. Damn. Was I that loud?
“Hello in there.” The woman tapped out each word on the door. “Did you hear me?”
“You still there?” Alex asked. “Something wrong?”
Embarrassment gridlocked her voice, hands and legs.
“I’m going to call security,” the woman said.
That unlocked Maddie’s senses. “No.” She jumped out of her seat. “Wait. Hang on.”
“What’s going on?” Alex asked. “Where are you? You okay?”
“I’m…I’m fine,” she said, unlocking the door. “I’m in the dressing room at Bloomies.” Covering the phone with her hand, she opened the door and smiled at the lined face, squinting, with a not-so-friendly pucker to her thin lips. “Hi, I’m in here alone.” She opened the door wider. “See, just me.” To her chagrin, her voice hiked to a high pitch on the last word.
The store clerk stuck her disbelieving head in the doorway and glanced around. Where could someone hide in here? Maddie wanted to ask. “I’m on my cell.” She held up the phone.
“Maddie?” Alex’s voice echoed through her fingers. “What’s going on?”
“I tend to talk loud. Sorry,” Maddie told the woman, lifting her foot. “And I…I stubbed my toe.” She cocked her head to the side. “I must’ve shrieked, huh? It hurt. The toe that is.”
“Do you need any help?” the woman asked in a hesitant, didn’t-buy-her-story tone.
“No thanks. And thank you for checking on me.” She dismissed the embarrassment out of her mind, closed the door, leaned against it and cleared her throat. “Alex, you still there?”
“What happened?” he said.
“Stubbed my toe.” She sipped water. “Store’s busy today. They’re short of change rooms and need me to clear out.” Blowing a strand of hair away from her face. “You were saying—”
“Why do I get the feeling you’re up to something?”
“Because you have issues,” she said, exhaling a forced smile. “Uptight,
suspicious—”
“Yeah, that’s it, wisenheimer.” She could picture his patented eye roll. “Have a good weekend and try to stay out of trouble. I’ll give you a call when I get back.”
“Have a safe flight.” They said goodbye.
Maddie shut the phone and dropped it into her tote, stripped out of the dress and put it aside with the other to-be-purchased items. She dressed into her jeans and T-shirt, ran a brush through her hair, blotted her face and neck with a tissue and coated her lips with clear lip-gloss. A few deep breaths and her pulse and breathing returned to resting state.
“I’m back,” Reece said, knocking.
Maddie opened the door, peered out and noticed Miss Knock-at-the-Wrong-Time lingering and talking with two other store clerks.
“I gave my credit card a workout.” Reece held up a shopping bag. “You done?”
Closing the door, Maddie said, “I want to show you something before we go.”
“Why are you whispering?”
Maddie shrugged her response, sat on the chair and dug into her tote. “I bought research material the day I found out I’d be traveling with Alex.” She handed Reece a hardcover book.
Reece pulled up another chair and sat beside her. “Research material, huh?” Her manicured eyebrow registered curiosity as she read the title. “The Kama Sutra.”
With the tension from her earlier encounter evaporating, Maddie leaned back and relaxed. “You can borrow it when I’m done.”
Reece flipped through the glossy pages. “You’d have to be a contortionist to do that.” She pointed to a couple demonstrating The Lotus. The woman lay on her back, crossing her legs, and hugging them up to her chin. Her lover thrusting in and out of her, while she held the pose.
“Says here—” Reece ran her finger over the text, “—great for yoga lovers—”
“Right up my alley.”
Shaking her head, Reece flipped through the book. “You got kicked out of yoga class, remember?”
“That instructor didn’t have a sense of humor.”
“You’re not supposed to giggle or chat up the room during meditation or a pose.” Reece let out a teasing laugh. “And here’s a tip, not a good idea to do that during sex.”
“Well, duh. I have had sex.” In her early twenties with a couple of boyfriends. Vanilla and unimaginative—cursory kissing, no boob play, a hasty choochie rub, bypassing an expectant clit, a minute’s worth of pumping, ending with a jizz-busting grunt. It wasn’t entirely their fault, she hadn’t brought a lot of experience to bed and they hadn’t appreciated her desire to use her trusty vibrator afterward instead of indulging in the obligatory spooning session.
“Yoga’s boring,’ Maddie said. “I prefer mountain biking and zip-lining. Now, that’s endurance.” Stamina would come in handy for the bang-me-every-which-way-Alex marathon.
“Yeah, you can keep those thrills.”
Reece turned the page, illustrating a naked woman suspended in mid air, balancing herself with one hand on the ground, legs apart and her lover glued to her from behind. “I’m not athletic enough for some of these positions,” Reece said, flipping through a few more pages. “Give me good ole doggy with Stuart MacShortie Short.”
“You dumped him because he was lousy in bed.”
Reece turned to the last page. “No, he dumped me when I caught the bouquet at my sister’s wedding.”
Maddie stood and folded the lingerie into the basket.
“Hey,” Reece said, “What does this sticky note say?”
Maddie watched her friend’s reaction. “It’s my plan.”
“Your plan? Oh, this can’t be good.” Reece brought the book closer to her face to read Maddie’s scribbled notes. Her blue eyes widened and her jaw dropped. “A sexual what?”
Chapter Two
“Man is no match for woman where mischief reigns.”
—Honore de Balzac
“A sexual what?”
Alex Donovan raised his voice louder than he’d intended on the patio of the Makana Island Bistro while having a late lunch with Maddie. He shook his head in utter disbelief. He was sure he had heard her suggestion correctly. However, his mind had frozen for a moment.
“Sexual boot camp,” Maddie said, refilling her glass with the carafe of red wine.
Baffled, he tried to focus on her bizarre idea. “Is this carnal academy for your piece?”
“Nope.” Saluting him, she gave him a salacious smile. “Private Saunders reporting for duty, Sergeant Donovan.”
“I’m going to need reinforcements for this one.” He held his wine glass out for her to refill it. “You called me sergeant a few weeks ago.” He drank some wine. “Mystery solved.”
She gazed at him from the top of her glass through her lush lashes. “Drill sergeant’s more like it.”
He grinned at her latest shit-disturbing lark. “You? Follow orders?”
“There is that.” She speared a tortellini and a meatball onto her fork. “But I’m willing to learn. Basic training shouldn’t take too long.”
He tilted his wine glass toward hers. “I think you’ve spilled one glass too many, Saunders.”
“I only had a few ounces.” She picked up a breadstick. “I can handle the heavy artillery.” Her lips formed a delicate “O” as she bit off a small piece. “Imagine what advanced combat will be like.” With her fork, she arranged two meatballs beside each other on her plate, pushed a tortellini between them and moved the breadstick back and forth on top of the tortellini.
Well, fuck me. That’s the first time his cock had ever twitched—minor movement, but still—over a plate of meatballs and tortellini she’d shaped into missionary position—however, the breadstick was a thin and pitiful replica of a dick.
In spite of his astonishment, the animation on her flushed face drew a smile out of him. “You finished molesting your lunch?”
She trailed a long, slim finger around her plate. “I spotted a shop not far from here—Adam and Eve’s Naughty Mart.” Her voice oozed with provocative suggestion. “Do you think they sell his and hers camo lingerie—”
“Men don’t wear lingerie.”
“We could still browse.” Lifting her glass under her upturned nose, she inhaled the wine. “I’m thinking we could use handcuffs, a whistle—”
“I don’t need props.” Shut the hell up, don’t encourage her. But damn, he was curious as to what she wanted to do with a whistle.
“You should be promoted to general then.” Her rosy cheeks lifted into a smile, reaching the mischievous glint in her eyes. “When do I report for duty? And I don’t have a problem going commando.”
He rolled his eyes, cut a piece of steak and shoveled into his mouth. “Of course not.”
“Like right now.”
Chewing the piece of meat until he was sure he wouldn’t choke, he chased it down with a generous gulp of wine. She had to be dicking around. She wore a short jean skirt, black hose and boots when they boarded in New York.
His testosterone receptors would have picked up a naked pussy sitting next to him for over ten hours on a plane, even though they’d slept for most of the flight.
“Thigh highs.” She pinched the black olives he set aside for her from his salad bowl. “And I commando’ed when I freshened up and changed clothes before we landed.”
“I didn’t ask.”
“But you were wondering.” She ate the olives and took a sip of wine. “Let’s discuss boot camp commencement—”
He wiped his mouth with the napkin, set it aside and picked up his wine glass. “Dare I ask where all this is coming from?”
She straightened in her seat and spoke into her spoon as a makeshift microphone. “I, Madison Elizabeth Saunders, am an erotic creature. It is my goddess-given right to participate in the pleasure process. I demand to experience the mini and the mother of them all, the multi-orgasm.”
In the span of a couple of minutes, she had baffled him more than once.
His extraordinary sixth sense and the built-in bullshit detector he needed to survive as a foreign correspondent usually forewarned him of any unexpected dangers. However, with Maddie, his razor-sharp instincts hadn’t kicked in. He’d tried many times to figure her out and had failed.
“Hey, sergeant, you still with me?”
He glanced around, thankful the other diners were busy with their meals and had missed her orgasm speech. “Yeah. Waiting for Scotty to beam me up.”
“You up to it?” For all her bravado, her cheeks turned a darker shade of pink. But the flame disappeared and she cranked up a wicked grin. “Literally?”
He drained the last of his wine and poured a few more ounces from the decanter. There had to be a logical explanation for her new boldness.
Clasping his hands behind his neck, he leaned back in his chair and waited for the “Gotcha, Alex.” It never came. She sat in silence, a playful expression plastered on her face. “Okay, Saunders, what’s the story? Jet lag? One of your pranks?”
“I told you.” She finished the two remaining meatballs on her plate and put her fork down with a contented sigh. “I have a plan.”
He unclasped his hands and leaned forward. “I’m still recuperating from your last plan.”
She swirled the wine in her glass. “You need to keep an open mind for this one.”
Well, hell. His mind more than opened, thanks to her nookie camp idea. A kaleidoscopic jumble of snapshots reeled through his head—mouth-to-dick-combat and moisture-seeking missile maneuvers.
He shook those visions out of his head. “You and your ideas are more dangerous than dodging bullets.”
She clicked her tongue—probably mistaking his holy-fuckhor
se-is-she-serious? look—for an exasperated expression. “C’mon, Donovan, where’s your sense of adventure and fun?”
“Yeah, I get it. This stunt is for Reece’s comic strip, and I’m your guinea pig. Again.”
“Those red-polished toenails did earn Reece a lot of fan mail.”
He lifted his wine glass in mock salute. “Happy to oblige. My reputation as a serious reporter, notwithstanding.”
“It’s not my fault you’re a sound sleeper. Stop napping on my couch.”
“Sweetheart.” He laced the endearment with sarcasm. “I didn’t have time to remove your artwork from my toes, and I showered at the gym that day. The guys still call me Babe.”
“Didn’t he play baseball?” The warm breeze ruffled her thick shiny hair around her laughter. “I’m sorry.” She dabbed at her eyes. “Okay, turnaround is fair play.”
Her sandal hit the wooden deck with a low thump. She swung to the side and lifted her bare foot, wiggling her toes. “I painted yours,” she said, fiddling with her hair, twirling the ends. “You paint mine.”
“Not in this lifetime.”
“I won’t tell.”
“Right.”
His gaze traveled from her pink-tinted toes to her well-defined bare calves. That damn kaleidoscope returned with a vengeance. He pictured himself sitting on the floor, lubing her feet with oil, her toes playing with his full balls and then wrapping her warm slippery feet around his throbbing cock, rubbing back and forth and up and down.
His dick bristled, making its way to high-noon position.
What. The. Fuck?
He did not have a foot fetish and had never fantasized about shooting his load on a woman’s toes.
“Okay.” She turned in her chair and faced him. “Let’s get back on track and talk about the hot fun we can have on this gorgeous island.”
What a Girl Wants Page 2