She's Got It Bad

by Sarah Mayberry

  She returned to her workbench and started setting up her airbrush for the day’s work. She concentrated fiercely on the job at hand. Anything to avoid thinking or feeling. She knew from long experience that she could bury almost anything if she tried hard enough.

  By lunchtime she’d found homes for all but one of the kittens. Apparently she wasn’t the only one who was a sucker for soft fur and squashed faces. Liam went out just before lunch and she took the opportunity to spend her own break with Lucky in his office, sitting cross-legged beside the carrier and petting Lucky until she purred.

  Zoe was cuddling a squirming kitten in her hand, laughing at the tiny pinprick of its claws, when a shadow fell over her. Liam, back from lunch.

  “Sorry. I’ll get out of your hair,” she said. From where she was sitting on the floor, he looked very big and broad.

  “No rush. No need to disturb the little guy.”

  He crouched beside her and reached out to run a finger down the kitten’s spine.

  “This one got a name yet?” he asked.

  “Not really. Vinnie wanted to call him Loser because he’s the smallest, but there’s no way I’m sending a kitten out into the world with a name like that.”

  Liam stroked the kitten again and it lifted its blind face and nuzzled his fingers.

  “Do you want to hold him?” she asked.

  Before he could say no, she transferred the kitten to his palm.

  He winced as the kitten kneaded his thumb pad with its needle-sharp claws, obviously looking for food.

  “I know. Kind of like getting a tattoo, don’t you think?” She laughed.

  “Yeah, only there’s no payoff at the end of the pain.” He lifted the kitten closer to his face.

  “Little dude, listen up. Here’s your first lesson in life—thumbs do not produce milk. Okay?”

  There was something about the sight of the tiny, defenseless kitten curled in the palm of his big, work-hardened hand that made her stomach twist.

  She studied him from beneath her eyelashes, fascinated by the contrast between the size and strength of his powerful body and the gentleness of his touch as he held the kitten.

  “You found homes for them all yet?” he asked.

  “All except for Little Dude here,” she said.

  He shot her a dry look.

  “Nice try, but I’m a dog man,” he said.

  She shrugged a shoulder. “Suit yourself.”

  He gently placed the kitten with his mother.

  “How’s the design coming along?” he asked.

  “Good. I’ve been working on some flames, using the purple with the red and orange like you suggested. I think it’s going to work really well.”

  “Excellent.”

  They stood at the same time.

  “Well,” she said, apropos of nothing.

  She stepped around him and left his office. It was only when she went to pick up her air gun that she realized how much her hands were shaking.

  Damn.

  She closed her eyes for a second.

  Time to be honest with yourself, Zoe.

  She liked him way too much. And it wasn’t just a sex thing. She wanted to jump him, yes. But she wanted to make him laugh, and she wanted to talk to him and she wanted to know and understand him.

  All stupid, dangerous indulgences for someone like herself. Just as well Liam had said no to her little offer yesterday.

  She opened her eyes and reached for her work. She was almost through her first week. Only three more to go.

  Bring it on.

  HE’D BEEN DOING really well until lunchtime. Then he’d caught Zoe in his office doting on her cats and all the resolve in him just…dissolved.

  Hard-ass Zoe he could withstand. She traded on sex and temptation and he could resist her.

  Barely. It was simply a matter of self-control.

  But when Zoe let her guard down, when she looked at him with no wariness in her eyes and he saw her younger self staring back at him—well, he was lost. She made him remember the way it used to be.

  All night he’d sweated her offer. What man wouldn’t? She was gorgeous, incredibly desirable.

  She was offering herself to him on a platter. And—as he’d already established several times—he was not a saint.

  The afternoon was a write-off workwise. He kept telling himself to leave, to find some business to take care of off-site. But he couldn’t make himself leave her orbit.

  Then there were the damned kittens. Three times he had to get up to see why they were mewling so much. The first time it was a territorial dispute, with Little Dude being pushed aside by a bigger, tougher sister. The second time the water bowl needed refilling. The third time it was Little Dude again, in distress for no good reason that Liam could see. He picked the damned fur ball up and cradled it against his chest for a few minutes and that seemed to calm the kitten. He was repositioning him amongst his brothers and sisters again when he glanced toward the doorway and saw Zoe there, watching him.

  “He was complaining, making a fuss,” he said.

  “He’s probably hungry. They’re always hungry,” she said. “And he’s got a bit of catching up to do.”

  “Yeah.”

  She was watching him, an amused light in her eyes. God, he wanted to kiss her. His staff could all go to hell as far as he was concerned—he wanted to kiss her and haul her onto his desk and bury himself inside her and hang the consequences.

  “Thanks for looking after him, anyway,” she said.

  “You should go,” he said suddenly. “Home, I mean. Most of the guys are about to call it quits.

  You’ve already worked most of your Saturday.”

  “Are you sure?” she asked. “I want to pull my own weight.”

  “Absolutely. The competition bike’s more than on track.”

  “Okay, then. Thanks. I’ll just clear away my gear then come get Lucky.”

  He let his breath out when she left his office. Good. Temptation removed for another day.

  Tomorrow was Sunday, which meant a whole day of blessed relief, then the torture would begin for another week.

  She was back in five minutes, her jacket on and car keys in hand.

  He helped her pack away the water bowl and insisted on hefting the carrier for her, even though it wasn’t heavy.

  It didn’t escape him that he was literally escorting her from the premises.

  She took the carrier from him when they got to the car. He should have gone inside and left her to it, but instead he watched as she used the seat belt to strap the carrier into the backseat and fussed to make sure mother and babies were all comfortable for the journey home. He studied her profile, then the long line of her legs, then, finally, the firm curves of her ass. Her T-shirt had pulled loose from her waistband at the small of her back and he stared at the smooth, creamy skin on display. His hands curled of their own volition and he shoved them into his back pockets to stop himself from touching her.

  She was smiling indulgently when she backed out of the car.

  “It’s going to be hard to give those little guys up,” she said.

  She reached behind herself to tuck herself in, and her T-shirt tightened across her breasts. He stared, unable to help himself.

  “God, Zoe,” he groaned. “Just go, already. Please.”

  Her startled gaze found his. One glance at his crotch was enough to give the game away. A knowing look came into her eyes.

  “I’ll be back next week, you know, Liam.”

  “I know.”

  “And for another two weeks after that.”

  “Yep. I remember.”

  Her gaze dropped to his crotch again. She wet her bottom lip.

  “You going to send me home early every day?”

  “Maybe. Probably.”

  She nodded, then looked him very directly in the eyes.

  “Your choice. It’s a free country.”

  She selected her ignition key from her key ring and turned away, reachi
ng for the car door.

  She’d been in his head for years. He’d been fooling himself when he thought he could keep his distance.

  “Wait,” he said.

  She stilled, her back to him. His arms slid around her, pulling her back against his chest. One of his hands found her hip while the other came to rest just beneath her breasts. He leaned forward and pressed his face into the nape of her neck, inhaling deeply.

  She smelled good. Right. Perfect.

  He could feel her heart pounding against her rib cage. His was going crazy, too.

  “Come back to my place,” he said.

  He felt her breath leave her in a rush.

  “Yes.”

  “Give me a minute to grab my gear,” he said.

  He realized some of the guys had been watching them when he strode back toward his office to grab his keys and jacket. He didn’t give a damn.

  He wanted Zoe. He felt like he’d wanted her all his life. He was sick of fighting it. Tonight, she would be his. Tomorrow…He’d worry about tomorrow when the time came.

  ZOE COULD FEEL her pulse pounding in her neck. She was going home with Liam. She still couldn’t quite believe it. She shifted in her seat as she accelerated away from an intersection, remembering the way his arms had slid around her, the gravel in his voice when he asked her to come home with him.

  No more games. No more pretense. No more denial.

  Up ahead she saw the signal on his chopper flash for a left turn. She followed him into a broad, leafy street, one of St. Kilda’s finest. Big, expensive houses marched down either side of the road. Surely he didn’t live around here?

  Her stomach dipped when he turned into the driveway of a large, modern home. She reminded herself that Liam was a very successful man. Somehow she kept getting him tangled up in her mind with the young man she’d known all those years ago.

  Made from a mix of wood, masonry and glass, the house in front of her was contemporary in style and boasted two levels and a triple garage. She couldn’t help smiling as the garage door lifted to reveal Liam’s vintage Mustang, a large black SUV and another three motorbikes in addition to the chopper he was riding.

  Boys and their toys.

  Liam had already parked his bike and was stripping off his helmet and leather jacket as she pulled up. He waited for her to turn the engine off before opening the rear door of the car and grabbing the cat carrier. She wondered how many of his girlfriends came complete with traveling pet nurseries, then quickly pushed the thought from her mind. It didn’t matter. For starters, she wasn’t his girlfriend. She was simply someone he was attracted to, someone he was going to sleep with. As such, she had no business wondering about the other women in his life. Whoever they might be.

  “We’ll go in through the garage. It’s easier,” he said.

  As she followed him inside, the smell of fresh paint hit her.

  “Have you been renovating?” she asked.

  They were walking down a hallway with high ceilings and unadorned off-white walls.

  “Building. The original house on this site was falling over when I bought it. I bulldozed it and had this place built.”

  Her jaw went a little slack as she followed him into a large, open living space. Huge cathedral ceilings, lots of light, more neutral paint and more blank walls. The only color came from the golden hardwood floor and the dark slate of the fireplace surround. He had the bare minimum of furniture—a man-size couch in brown leather and a huge flat-screen TV and precious little else.

  “How long have you been living here?”

  “Four months.”

  And he still hadn’t furnished the place?

  He kept walking, leading her into a big, modern kitchen fitted with light wood units and cream Corian countertops.

  “Wow. This is huge,” she said.

  He had an ice-making fridge and a superwide oven, the kind that looked like it belonged in a restaurant.

  He shrugged, almost as though he was a little embarrassed.

  “It’s a kitchen. It gets the job done.”

  He put the cat carrier down, then refilled the water bowl. Zoe stood and watched him, her thumbs hooked into the front pockets of her jeans.

  Her shoulders were tight, her belly tense. She was nervous. Which was nuts. It wasn’t like she’d never had sex before. But this was Liam’s place, his territory. And she wasn’t armed with any of her usual defenses. No fishnet stockings, no makeup, no stilettos. It was just her and Liam.

  He crossed to the sink and washed his hands. She watched as he dried them carefully on a tea towel. His dark eyes held hers as he put the towel down and walked toward her. She expected him to stop before he was within touching distance, but he didn’t. He stepped right up to her, so close that her breasts brushed his chest and she could feel the heat radiating off his body.

  “Zoe Ford. What am I going to do with you?” he asked in a low, low tone.

  She was having trouble breathing as she looked into his eyes. “I have a few ideas.”

  “Yeah?”

  He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. His fingers trailed down her neck until his hand landed warm and heavy on her shoulder.

  “Like what?”

  The look in his eyes…

  “We could—” She broke off in frustration and shook her head. She slid a hand behind his neck, standing on tiptoe as she drew him down to her. His lips were firm and warm against hers and she traced them with her tongue before sliding inside to explore him more fully. His tongue slid along hers and a shiver of need raced up her spine.

  He pulled back. Already his chest was rising and falling like he’d just run a mile. She loved that she affected him so profoundly.

  “Let’s go for broke and try to make it to a bedroom this time. What do you say?” he said.

  “Sounds like a plan.”

  He grabbed her hand and led her into the living room, then up a wide flight of stone and wrought-iron stairs. He pulled her into the first doorway and she got a vague impression of an unmade bed, a pile of clothes in the corner and more neutral colors before Liam was tugging her back into his arms.

  His kiss was so urgent, so hungry that it took what was left of her breath away. He toed off his boots and she followed suit, never breaking their kiss. He tugged her T-shirt free from her jeans and dragged it over her head. His pupils dilated as he stared at her breasts, spilling out of red lace.

  “Zoe. Man, if you only knew how much I love red lace,” he said.

  She reached for his T-shirt, pulling it over his head and letting it fall to the ground. He had a great chest, so wide and strong. She eyed it avidly, remembering the long hours she’d had to keep her hands off him when she gave him the tattoo sitting low on his belly.

  Not anymore.

  She reached out and slid her hands over his hard, round pecs. She raked her fingernails against his skin. He was so big, all man. She wanted to bite him and lick him and taste him all over.

  She pushed him backward until the bed hit the back of his knees. She found the stud on his jeans and had it undone in seconds, his fly moments after that. She grabbed a fistful of denim on either side of his hips and tugged his jeans and boxer-briefs down at the same time. His erection sprang free, big and thick and proud. He stepped out of his clothes and she couldn’t help herself. She dropped to her knees, pushing her face against him and inhaling the smell of him, spicy and male. She traced the base of his erect shaft with her tongue, feeling him shudder in response.

  Then she slid her tongue along his length until she found his swollen, velvet head.

  “Zoe,” he said.

  She took him into her mouth, all of him, savoring the length and heft of him. He was beautiful.

  She couldn’t wait to have him inside her.

  She sucked him hard, then rubbed the rough of her tongue across the head of his erection. He groaned and his hands slid into her hair. She smiled around him, enjoying the power, turned-on by how aroused he was.

  She
took him deep into her mouth again and again, teasing him with her tongue, using her hand to stroke his shaft. She felt his body growing more and more tense. Finally she pushed him back onto the bed. He lay there, his feet still on the floor, knees bent over the edge of the bed, his cock wet and hard from her mouth.

  She shucked her jeans and underwear in record time and dispensed with her bra with a deft flick of her wrist. Then she climbed on top of him, straddling his hips.

  She grasped his erection in her hand and guided it between her legs, sliding his plump head into her wetness so he would know how turned-on she was. His eyes were half-closed, his mouth slightly open as he watched her. She rocked forward, rubbing her breasts against his chest, loving the crispness of his chest hair against her sensitive flesh. He pulled her higher still and sucked an already taut nipple into his mouth, his tongue hot and fast against her.

  Suddenly she was desperate for him. With a tilt of her hips, she had him in position. Slowly she bore down.

  He was hard and thick and he felt so good she stilled, her fingers clutching at his arms as she savored the stretch of her body, the heat of his.

  Her eyes tightly closed, she concentrated on the sensation of fullness, completeness.

  She started to move, circling her hips as she slid up his shaft then down again, each delicious stroke making her ache for ten more. His hands replaced his mouth on her breasts, plucking at her nipples, rolling them between his fingers, pinching her.

  She bit her lip and increased her pace, chasing the tension inside herself. She breathed in the smell of sex and Liam and desire and felt her climax begin to take her.

  “Not yet, baby,” he said. He shifted beneath her so quickly that before she knew it she was on her back and he was on top of her, his weight bearing her down into the mattress.

  He kissed her deeply, his forearms planted either side of her shoulders, his hips thrusting into her.

  He slid a hand down her thigh to her knee and lifted it higher, slipping it over his shoulder. Then he was deeper inside her, pounding into her. They stared into each other’s eyes, both gasping for breath, lost in desire.

  Her climax hit her and she cried out. She grasped his hips and ass and held him to her as she shuddered around him, her neck arched back, her eyes clenched shut. He stepped up his pace, his thrusts almost desperate. She opened her eyes in time to see him come, teeth bared, face tight.