Twenty Times Tempted: A Sexy Contemporary Romance Collection

by Petrova, Em

  “Are you okay?” The fireman who’d given her directions approached, his step cautious.

  Sarah jumped away from the door. Why the hell was everyone asking her that today? “I’m fine. Just needed a minute.”

  “Probably a good thing. Bayfield has been in a pissy mood all week. You don’t want to get up in his business when he’s in his dark place. He almost bit the probie’s head off this morning for not getting a report on his desk in a timely manner.”

  Hmmm. So Cris was in an awful mood as well? Was he still mad at her, or had his mood shifted to one where he was mad he’d messed things up with her? She faced the heavy steel door. Only one way to find out.

  When she shoved the door open, she found herself in a large, paved courtyard. A stone bench sat at one end, but other than that, the area was empty. The helpful fireman was wrong. Cris wasn’t there. She pivoted to move back inside and froze mid-turn. The anger churning within her chest transformed to instant, burning lust as she caught sight of Cris hanging on the fire escape ladder, staring at her.

  He’d cast his shirt aside, exposing the ridges and muscular cuts on his abdomen. A glorious six-pack flexed under his taut skin. His biceps bulged with the effort to hold himself in place. He had on athletic shorts again, and his legs were bent at the knee, crossed at the ankles as if he’d been doing pull-ups on the rungs. His lips were parted, and a sheen of sweat covered his forehead. His eyes flashed hot, but were instantly shuttered to cool disinterest.

  She stared for the longest time, drinking in her fill of his muscular body while he remained suspended. Taking a steadying breath, she jutted one hip to the side and propped her hand on it. “I’m mad at you.”

  His eyes widened. Finally Cris uncrossed his ankles and, releasing the ladder, dropped lightly to his feet. With fluid motion, he bent, grabbed his shirt, then moved toward her. “I sure as hell don’t understand why you’d be pissed at me.” He shoved his arms into the sleeves of his T-shirt and jerked the fabric over his head. When his face emerged, it was set in harsh lines.

  “You could have told me what set you off. You might have given me a chance to explain before you stormed away like a freaking prima donna.” Sarah crossed her arms over her chest. He glanced at her breasts for an instant before he met her gaze again. She took a deliberately deep breath just to taunt him with her boobs. “I figured it out, though.”

  “What exactly do you think you figured out?” His growly voice sent shivers up her spine.

  And judging by the corresponding rush of heat between her legs, the shivers weren’t nervous in nature. “You discovered my studio. You think I’m like her.”

  “Aren’t you?”

  She didn’t even have to define who. He believed she was a crazy artist like his ex. “Hell no. Do I seem unhinged to you? Have you ever seen me anything but professional?”

  Heat flickered in his eyes. “Once.”

  “When,” she challenged.

  “In your kitchen. You were a bit—”

  “For Christ’s sake, Cris. We were both a little passionate in my kitchen.” Her breath shortened with the memory of the smoking hot kiss and how close she’d come to tackling him to the floor. “Does that make you unhinged?”

  Cris rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands as he turned away. “Maybe.”

  Scooting around to stand in front of him, Sarah covered the tattoo on his bicep with her hand. She traced the puckered scar on the underside of his muscle. “I’m not Larie, Cris. Right here, right now, I’m telling you I could never be like her. I’d never hurt you the way she did. Yes, I’m an artist, but so is Kit. So are a lot of other people. Most of whom are not in the least bit crazy.”

  “I don’t want my son to be anything like that woman.” He shook off her hand and took a step away.

  She followed, seizing his wrist to stop his backward motion. “I understand that. But he will be who he’s meant to be. Artist, architect, dreamer. It doesn’t matter.” She attempted to lighten the moment. “Unless he chooses politician. If that happens, ground him for life.”

  Ah, there was a smile. Slight, but still, she’d put that on his face in what had started as a very tense moment. And his eyes had lost their flinty, coldness for a moment.

  The smile faded. “I worry about him. I watch him all the time for signs. His artistic talent scares the shit out of me. I’m afraid... He likes you, though. He told me last night you remind him of that Tal Bachman song, ‘She’s So High.’”

  “Huh?”

  “Like Cleopatra, Joan of Arc, and Aphrodite?”

  “He think’s I’m powerful?”

  Cris stared intently at her. “They’re all women who are admired. Especially by men.” His fingers were warm when he stroked her cheek. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have run away. But I...I was already in an emotionally raw place, having just vomited my shitty story to you.”

  “You know we can’t have a relationship if we don’t talk.”

  Oh, God, why was she talking about having a relationship with Cris? The smartest thing she could do was nip the attraction in the bud before she went too far. He slid his thumb over her lips. Oh yeah, that was why. She couldn’t believe the heights of attraction she harbored for him. Enough to make her violate her rule about dating parents. She wanted so much more than to simply date this man.

  He wrapped his arm around her waist and tugged her against his body. “That statement is what convinces me you aren’t like Larie. She never wanted to talk about anything. Screaming, at me, at Trip...at the universe was so much easier.” He searched her face. “I don’t want Trip to be like his mom. It feels like exposing him to art will drive him to that. Seeing your paintings brought back a lot of bad memories. What if he wants to paint?”

  Pressing her fingertips to his mouth, she stopped any additional words. “Letting Kit explore art and painting won’t make him crazy. But his energy can be channeled other directions. If it helps, I promise never to let him near a single tube of paint.”

  Cris’s expression eased. “That promise means a lot to me. It tells me you understand.”

  Stretching up on her toes, she pressed her lips to his...eyes open, holding his gaze, sealing her promise. His eyes flashed silvery when he opened beneath the pressure and thrust his tongue into her mouth.

  She let her eyes drift shut as he deepened the kiss, letting his tongue and body communicate with her. She raised her arms under his and slid them behind his back, splaying her hands on his shoulder blades. In response, Cris wove his right arm around her neck and pressed his left hand into the small of her back until he’d tucked her hips against his.

  The pressure of his erection was heaven against her belly. The hard line told her how much his desire matched her own.

  Cris wedged his knee as far between her thighs as her skirt allowed, the hard muscle brushing the vee at the top of her legs with erotic sensation. A bolt of feeling ran a jagged, electrified path from her hips to her breasts.

  His lips were greedy on hers, nipping, nibbling. First sucking her tongue into his mouth, then chasing it back. When he playfully bit her lower lip, her breath rushed out and her heart sped up, each beat pounding in her chest, answered by a throb low in her belly. She curled her fingers over his shoulders and flexed them into the firm muscles.

  Using his hard body, Cris nudged her back until she found herself caught between the rough, cold brick of the building and his broad chest. Without breaking the seal between their lips, Cris propped one arm on the brick over her head, and with the other hand cupped her neck. He stroked his thumb over her jaw toward her mouth, then reversed the motion. Dipping his knees, he slid down, his mouth trailing along her neck. When he rose again, delicious friction blazed a path straight to the spot where his thigh was lodged between her legs. Reclaiming her lips, he repeated the motion, once, twice until she thought she’d orgasm right there.

  Dragging his mouth from her neck, he groaned, then nibbled along her jaw and down her throat until he reached the curve
where her neck met her shoulder. He bit down hard, but she forgot the pain when he slicked his tongue over the love bite.

  He trailed his hand from her neck to her chest. The heat of his palm seared her when he cupped her breast. He pressed his hips into her belly, desire evident in the thick ridge of his cock. His fingers found the pull of her zipper on her jacket and lowered it with a tearing sound. He tugged open one side and slipped his hand into the neckline of her sweater to reclaim her breast.

  Resting her hands on his ass cheeks, Sarah tugged him harder against her. Restricted by the skirt, frustration mounted when she couldn’t get her leg high enough to wrap around his waist. She clawed at the fabric, hoping to pull it free. Cris released her breast and joined her in the effort to clear a path. Breath sizzled out of her lungs as his fingers slid smoothly on her skin, slipping under the hem. He curled his large hand around her thigh and worked the skirt upward.

  Somewhere in the fire house, a door slammed, jolting Sarah back to reality. Anyone could walk through and catch them acting like teenagers. “Cris.” He continued his journey under her skirt, curving his fingers over her inner thigh. Oh, please, a little higher. Footsteps approached the door. “Cris, stop. Someone is coming.”

  “Fuck!” He jerked away from her as the door swung open. Jumping to her left, he scrambled to her side until he was almost behind her.

  She understood his action as his erection poked her in the hip. She angled her body more to shield his. She jerked her skirt into place, then pulled the edges of her jacket together.

  A firefighter stepped into the courtyard, shooting a gaze around the area as he spoke. “Cris, you out here?” He began a turn in their direction. “There you are. LT is looking for you.”

  “Can you tell him I’ll be with him in a few?” Cris’s voice came out hoarse and rusty sounding.

  Izzy’s gaze swept from Cris to Sarah, understanding dawning in his face. The man graduated from GPHS two years ago. He raised his brows toward his hairline. Damn, he recognized her as well. He gave her a curt nod. Whenever she ran into people she knew, she felt like the flipping mayor of Granite Pointe.

  Mottled red color stained Izzy’s barely stubbled cheeks. “Yeah, sure. Um...I…sorry to interrupt.”

  Cris straightened next to her, leaving a hand on the curve of her hip. “No worries. Can you give us a minute?”

  “Oh! Yeah. Sorry.” Izzy disappeared into the building, the door banging solidly behind him.

  Cris dropped his forehead to her shoulder and curved his hands around her waist. “I’m so sorry.”

  Remaining motionless in his embrace, she queried, “What are you apologizing for?”

  “Would everything be the right answer?”

  “Cris.” She spun in his arms until she faced him. Her heart raced again at the sight of heat and regret in his unusual eyes. She laid her hand against his chest where a pulse beat wildly, echoing hers. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”

  His lips curved into a grin. “We could start with me acting like a princess and racing out of your house. Or maybe for when I didn’t call to explain. But what I’m really sorry for is that we got interrupted just now. Probies have the worse timing in the world.” He swept his thumb over her cheek.

  “He was one of my students. I bet he never expected to see me like this.” Turning her face into his hand, she pressed her lips to the center of his palm. “Probably for the best. Didn’t you say our first time should be in a big, comfortable bed?”

  “Yeah, I recall saying something to that effect. Hard to remember when I just want to bury myself inside you.” He groaned out a laugh and pivoted away from her body until his back rested against the bricks.

  The loss of his body heat made her realize how cool the day had turned. She fiddled with the bottom of the jacket until she managed to connect the two sides of the zipper.

  She jerked the tab up and smoothed the fabric over her hips. “Rain check?” She slapped what she hoped was a sultry smile on her face.

  “I should be done working around five.” He twisted until his hip rested against the bricks. He toyed with the zipper pull, the back of his hand resting on the slope of her breast. “Trip told me he has a study session at seven and will be tied up for a couple of hours.”

  She’d forgotten about his son. He was a parent first and foremost and should be concerned about how a relationship would affect Kit. “Damn, this will be complicated.”

  He lifted his gaze to her face. “I bet as an assistant principal you’re a master scheduler.”

  “It’s not about scheduling, Cris.” She picked at a brick with her thumbnail.

  “Mmm, I love the way my name sounds from your lips. Makes me think about silk sheets, crackling fires.” He seized her hand. He pulled it to his lips and pressed kisses on each fingertip.

  A warm, erotic tingle bloomed again between her legs. What had they been talking about? She dragged her mind away from the heaven his lips were evoking and forced her focus back to center. “Cris—”

  “There it is again.” He bit down on the end of her index finger.

  With a laugh, she jerked her hand from his. She rested it on his chest to hold him at bay. “Be serious for a minute here. You’re a parent.”

  He raised his brow. “You gonna hold that against me?”

  “No, but it complicates things.” She sighed and struggled to find words to explain herself. “I represent an authority figure to students. I can’t be in a position where I’m seen as anything less than a professional. Especially in front of Kit.”

  He leaned away from her and studied her face. “So we can’t have a relationship? Is that what you’re telling me? Because I kind of thought that’s where we were heading.”

  “That’s exactly where we’re going. But I want you to know your spot in my bed won’t come with special favors for your son. I have to keep my professional life separate from my personal pleasure.” And judging by the way the man kissed, her pleasure was guaranteed. “I need to know you understand.”

  “Sarah, I promise I will never, ever ask for preferential treatment for Trip. Rules are rules, and we all have to live with them. My dad drove that point home often enough.”

  “If I’m doing this, I’m going all in, Cris. Rules weren’t made to be broken, and this goes against my common sense. But I’m above listening to that bitch right now. So, okay.”

  “Okay?” A glow blazed in his face as he smiled. His fast hug held a sense of safety she couldn’t begin to explain. When he released her, his eyes flashed mossy green with promise. “I’ll drop Trip at his study session, then come pick you up. We can go somewhere for dinner. I won’t have to pick the kid up until close to ten.”

  “Okay.” Eager anticipation buzzed in her belly, making her feel like an inexperienced teen about to go on a first date with a boy she’d been crushing on since sixth grade. In the words of her teeny-bopper self, this was going to be epic.

  Chapter Eleven

  Cris parked his SUV in front of Sarah’s house and draped his arms over the wheel. The graffiti Trip had painted on Sarah’s fence wasn’t quite visible in the dark, but he knew it was there. As he propped his chin on the back of his arms, he considered what Sarah had said earlier. Trip would be who he’d be. Cris could guide and counsel as much as he wanted, but he needed to back off on insisting on a logical, safe career path. He’d hated it when his own dad had tried to square peg him into a round hole. He couldn’t—wouldn’t—do that to Trip.

  Artist or architect, Cris had to do what he could to help his son be successful at what he chose to do.

  He admired Sarah’s levelheaded suggestions for channeling the boy’s creativity. And her promise to not let him near a tube of her paints. With the right influence, he’d never have to worry about Trip going off the deep end like Larie. The kid had some quirky tendencies, but he wasn’t staring at crazy in the rearview mirror. The way Trip had painted his bedroom was a prime example. The design was analytical, almost mathematical in
its symmetry. He often slipped into the room when Trip wasn’t home to marvel over the work. He’d sit on the messy unmade bed and stare at the bold strokes of color splashed across the walls.

  Shaking his head, Cris exited the car. Pocketing the keys, he strode up the front walk and climbed the steps to Sarah’s porch. He rang the bell, and while he waited for her to answer, he fidgeted, tugging his sweater lower over his hips, touching the spot on his bicep he always used to ground himself. Scrubbing a hand over his hair, he probably messed it up. As footsteps approached the other side of the door, he quickly shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans.

  Light flooded the porch when Sarah pulled the door open, backlighting her with a halo glow. She looked scrumptious in tight rusty-red jeans and a cream sweater. Olive green lace peeked out in the vee of her neckline. Her blond hair swung freely on her shoulders.

  She greeted him with a timid smile. “Hi. I’m almost ready. Come on in.”

  She turned and, leaving the door open, walked away. The soft sway of her hips as she moved into the living room shot desire through him. What was he thinking to suggest dinner out when what he really wanted was to spend the next three hours tangling in the sheets with her?

  He cleared his throat. “You look really great.”

  A broader smile decorated her face, illuminating her brown eyes until they glowed dark amber. She paused from moving things from her purse to a smaller wallet-sized thing. A clutch, that’s what he thought it was called. Why the hell he knew that, or even cared, escaped him.

  “You look nice, too.” She covered her eyes with her hand. “Nice. That’s just lame, Sarah.”

  “No, it’s not. I like it.”

  She dropped her hand to her lips. “Oh, God! I said that out loud?”

  Laughter ripped from his mouth. “Yeah, you kind of did.” He stepped across the area rug and approached her. “I’m glad I’m not the only one nervous.”

  “Cris, could we...would you mind not going out to dinner?” Sarah laid her hand on his chest. He wrapped his fingers around it, beating down hope when she continued. “I haven’t been able to concentrate on anything else but that kiss in the courtyard. How amazing it felt, and how much I wanted more of you. I hate the idea of sitting across a table from you in some restaurant when I only want to be in your arms.”