Good with His Hands

by Tanya Michaels

  “There’s a but?” Was he one of those men who had a problem with a woman on top? Nah. He was rock hard beneath her, obviously sincere in his appreciation. She shifted her weight in a slow, deliberate gyration.

  He closed his eyes momentarily, his grip on her tightening. “But,” he continued, “we still have a theory to test.” That was all the warning he gave before flipping her over and reversing their positions. “About my mouth on you.”

  His weight on top of her, wedged between her thighs as he pinned her to the crisp sheets below, was a new erotic delight. He caught the end of the sash belting her robe and tugged. The knot gave way immediately, and the fabric parted, sliding down either side of her body.

  But he kept his eyes locked on hers as he whispered, “You are beautiful.” Something about the reverence of his tone more than the actual words made her shiver.

  Kissing her neck, he scraped his teeth lightly across the hollow of her throat and nuzzled his way downward. By the time he reached the tip of her breast, she was breathing hard. He flicked his tongue over her, then drew her into the heat of his mouth. It was as if there was a current that ran from his lips straight to the core of her.

  Electric pleasure zinged through her body until she was shuddering with it. If he’d continued his attention to her breasts, it might have been enough to push her over the edge into climax. But he was moving lower, stopping to kiss her navel, both her inner thighs. And then finally, finally...

  “Oh!” The soft exclamation was all she could manage.

  Hands beneath her knees, he nudged gently, and she bent her legs, resting her feet against his shoulders. Coherent thought evaporated beneath the stroke of his tongue. Her head thrashed on the pillow, and her heels dug into the mattress. The neighbors could probably hear the sharp cries Gray wrung from her, but she was beyond caring.

  Then it was as if all motion and sound stopped. Her body straightened, a silent gasp frozen on her lips, and spasms began deep within her, undulating through her in crashing waves. It took her a moment to register that Gray’s sudden absence was because he was unrolling a condom. She was still experiencing tiny aftershocks when he braced himself above her and drove into her, hurtling her up another roller-coaster ascent toward free fall.

  She lifted her head, planning to kiss him, but their gazes locked, as intimately joined as their bodies. Looking into his face, she knew this was the closest she’d ever felt to another person. And even though the realization was a little scary, she was almost certain he felt the same way.

  * * *

  SEAN WOKE LANGUOROUSLY from a dead sleep. Before he was awake enough to form thoughts, he was only aware of a bone-deep contentment and the lush female body curled against him, her skin warm and smooth. Dani.

  He opened his eyes to check the time, and the sunshine flooding her room was like an accusation. Their night together had long since passed. In the dark, he’d almost convinced himself he could give her enough pleasure to atone for his lie of omission. Now he had to face her in the light of day—and face up to what he’d done.

  “Mornin’.” Her drowsy voice was a purr of greeting as she affectionately wriggled against him.

  He should be worn out from the previous night, but his body, seemingly oblivious to his moral plight, was already responding.

  Irritated with his lack of self-discipline, he jerked away from her. “Good morning.”

  His brusque words were met with an odd stillness. He could almost see her unspoken questions forming in the air.

  “Sorry. I’m a bear in the morning.” He climbed out of the bed to get some distance between them. That last time they’d made love, something had changed. Shifted. He couldn’t touch her now, not until she knew the truth. “You have a coffeemaker?”

  She nodded, eyeing him warily but no longer frowning. “I’m more of a tea drinker myself, but I keep coffee in the cabinet for company. There’s a sugar bowl on the counter, and about a fifty-fifty chance the milk in the fridge hasn’t expired.”

  “I’m going to get a pot started. Be back in a couple of minutes.” And, hopefully, between now and then, he’d figure out a way to explain his identity that wouldn’t make her hate him forever.

  6

  DANI HAD HEARD of awkward mornings after, but this was more like a complete personality transplant. What was wrong with him? He said he was cranky in the mornings, which maybe explained his tone, but why wouldn’t he meet her eyes? What had happened to the man who’d laughed with her last night and confided in her? The one who’d made love to her until she was limp with satisfaction? In her experience, it was a major warning sign when a guy started acting jumpy, his behavior erratic.

  Gray is not your low-life ex. Don’t overreact.

  With weeks of looking back on her engagement to give her perspective, she’d realized that Tate had a nasty, yet subtle, habit of belittling her. Literally, in the case of cajoling her not to wear high heels. He was the kind of man who sulked when he lost and liked people around him to be a tiny bit weaker so that he appeared stronger in comparison. Gray was far more secure than that. He’d seemed genuinely delighted at having serious competition when they played pool, and he hadn’t cringed once at her “unladylike” language.

  As for being with a strong woman? If she told Gray she wanted to handcuff him to her headboard and have her way with him, she suspected he’d be all for it. At least, the lover who’d ravished her last night would have been. She was less sure about the man who’d recoiled from her this morning.

  Listening to his footsteps as he padded back to the room, it occurred to her that she was completely naked. Granted, he’d already seen everything there was to see, but she was suddenly feeling a lot more inhibited. Vulnerable. Who knew where her discarded robe had ended up? She quickly wound the sheet around her, six-hundred-thread-count makeshift armor.

  Far from looking more alert or bolstered by the prospect of imminent coffee, when Gray returned, he was even more grim faced. He’d pulled on his jeans, and she found herself wishing he’d put on his shirt, too. This didn’t seem like a good time to get distracted by his sculpted chest.

  She wasn’t one to beat around the bush, and the experience with Tate had taught her to trust her instincts even when she didn’t like what they were telling her. “What’s the problem?”

  Staring at the floor, he inhaled deeply, then blew out his breath. “I need to tell you something, but it’s tough to explain.” He finally met her eyes, but the uneasiness in his gaze wasn’t comforting. The dark stubble shadowing his jaw—albeit sexy in a scruffy way—added to the sense that he’d somehow transformed into a stranger, far removed from the polished architect she was used to seeing. “What I’m about to say doesn’t have to change anything, Dani.”

  He’s lying. “You ever notice how prefacing bad news with ‘don’t panic’ causes panic?” She was impressed she sounded so calm, no tremor to betray the dread coiled like a snake in the pit of her stomach. “Or how people who start, ‘No offense...’ are about to say something offensive?” Whatever he was about to say, she was willing to bet it was a game changer.

  “When I saw you yesterday,” he said, “I felt an instant flare of attraction. You felt it, too.”

  She cocked her head to the side, puzzled by the defensive undercurrent in his tone. Why did it sound as if he were trying to justify what had happened between them? They were consenting adults, and there was no reason she could think of for him to feel guilty about it. Unless... “That ex you mentioned? Is she maybe not as ex as you suggested?” If he’d gone home with Dani without first ending a bad relationship, she didn’t know if she could forgive him, not when she knew what it was like to be cheated on firsthand.

  “What? No! This doesn’t have anything to do with Tara. This is about...my brother. We used to be really close, but we’re very different people. I make spontaneous—som
etimes regrettable—decisions, and he plans out every choice he makes. He doesn’t do impulsive things like follow a beautiful stranger in need of a good time to a bar.”

  Why was he babbling about his brother? Perhaps she’d been too quick to assure Meg she hadn’t gone home with a psycho. Wild-eyed and off on a tangent, he seemed less mentally stable.

  He sat on the edge of the bed, close but not touching her. “My brother is an architect. In your building.”

  “You’re both architects?” Wait. Why call it her building when he worked there, too?

  “No, just him. His name is Bryce Grayson. He works for Bertram Design Associates.”

  “His name is Bryce?” She scrambled backward until she bumped the headboard, trying to decide if she was dealing with some bizarre multiple personality thing. Or if he was secretly employed by one of those reality shows that messed with people’s minds. “You’re Bryce Grayson.”

  He shook his head. “I’m his twin brother. Sean.”

  Holy hell, she’d seduced a total stranger. A liar, at that. She shot out of the bed, mind reeling. Bryce had an evil twin? Impossible. That was the kind of thing that happened in freaking soap operas, not real life.

  Gray—Sean?—stood, too, his eyes beseeching. “When you first asked me to join you for that drink, to help you let off some steam, I had no idea you thought I was him.”

  “And as soon as you realized?”

  He glanced away, guilt and misery marring his breathtaking profile. For an inane moment, she wanted to reach for him, comfort him.

  But then anger rose, a dark tide. “Did you think I was so desperate to get laid that I wouldn’t care who I screwed?” she bit out. “Or were you afraid I wasn’t desperate enough, that I’d walk away if I knew you weren’t the man I wanted?”

  His eyes flashed, her words riling him past contrition. “I am the man you wanted. You had hours to be sure of that before you brought me back here. And you can’t tell me you know Bryce any better than that. Before yesterday, the two of you had never even exchanged names.”

  The truth in his words didn’t come close to extinguishing her rage. If anything, it infuriated her more. “Don’t try to defend what you did! I just got out of a very long relationship with a liar. I am not about to get involved with another one. Get out of my apartment.”

  “Danica—”

  “Out,” she said coldly. She was working so hard to control her temper, afraid that if she let it loose, she’d find herself in the midst of an honest to God tantrum, throwing her belongings and risking her security deposit.

  He stared her down. For a second, she thought he might continue pleading his case.

  His shoulders sagged in defeat. He gave her one last look and returned to the living room, where his shoes and shirt were. Apparently, he didn’t even bother to put them on, merely scooped them up, because bare seconds later her front door opened, then clicked shut with gut-wrenching finality.

  Dani pressed her hands to her midsection, not sure if she was going to cry or throw up. An image from last night taunted her, his eyes peering down at her as they moved together. She recalled sardonically how close she’d felt to him. And she hadn’t even known his name. His bizarre announcement this morning left her feeling as blindsided as she had the day Tate called off their engagement—maybe more. At least with Tate, there had been some suspicion, some minor foreshadowing.

  What was wrong with her? Was she inherently attracted to dishonest men?

  Were there any honest ones?

  Blood pressure skyrocketing, she scrambled for her cell phone. Meg answered a moment later.

  “Thank goodness you called,” her friend burbled. “I didn’t want to, you know, interrupt anything, but I have been dying of curiosity! Tell me all about the ‘best date ever.’”

  Not a date, a con. She opened her mouth to say as much, to spew venom and call Sean Grayson every bad word she knew, but, to her horror, only a sob emerged.

  “Oh, honey.” Meg’s cheerful tone immediately switched to concern. “I was hoping a wild night with Hot Architect would be enough to erase Tate from your memory.”

  Architect? Good Lord. She had no idea what the guy did for a living.

  “But I guess,” Meg continued, “with it being the weekend of your wedding, it’s only—”

  “I am not upset about the wedding. Or Tate.” She was far too ticked off at Sean to give a damn about the man she was supposed to have exchanged vows with yesterday. Was that the secret to getting over an ex once and for all, finding someone else who enraged you even more? If so, all she needed now was to go out with a guy who stole her car and burned down her apartment, and maybe she could put this latest mistake behind her, too.

  Shouldn’t be a problem. With her crappy judgment in men, she’d be dating a felon in no time.

  * * *

  DEEMING THE STORY too surreal to be discussed over the phone, Meg came over, bringing with her a jug of orange juice and a bottle of champagne. “At this hour, I figured our only acceptable options were mimosas or Bloody Marys.”

  “I’ll get cups,” Dani said. She’d taken a quick shower, trying not to recall the tenderness with which Sean had washed her hair or the heat of his mouth on her, and changed into yoga pants and a funny T-shirt Meg had given her to make her laugh after the breakup with Tate.

  Now, her vision blurred as gratitude swamped her. “What would I do without you? Every time I get screwed over, you come pick up the pieces.”

  Meg squeezed her shoulder. “You’ve done the same for me more times than I want to think about.” Her luck with men had not been stellar. Some guys were scared off by her effusive personality. Others were attracted to her wholesome appearance and tendency to use exclamations like “fudge!” but felt deceived when they glimpsed her naughtier side.

  Dani frequently teased her friend for her use of G-rated substitute expletives. Meg said it had become a lifelong habit because her mother took serious offense to swearing and in a home with five kids, there was always someone waiting to tell on you. “So you won’t say hell,” Dani had asked once, “but your mom is okay with you and your sister running a store filled with sexy items?”

  “My parents aren’t prudes. How do you think they got the five kids?”

  It was starting to feel like a miracle to Dani that any couple stayed together long enough to have five kids. Two man disasters in the space of a month was a new record. Meg had been putting in a lot of overtime lately in the cheering-up department.

  “Seriously,” Dani said, “I owe you. I’m beginning to feel like our friendship is one-sided.”

  “You don’t owe me anything. Being your friend is its own reward.” Meg gave her a wry smile. “Plus, your life is never dull. Who would have guessed Hot Architect had a Hot Twin?”

  Not me. In retrospect, she felt stupid. Hadn’t she subconsciously catalogued the ways Sean seemed different, from his unexpectedly outgoing manner to his biceps? But as an only child herself, she’d never given any consideration to whether Bryce had siblings, much less one who was identical.

  She and Meg took their champagne-heavy cocktails into the living room, where Dani sat as far from the couch as possible and explained what she could. There were some blanks only Sean could have filled in—such as what he’d been doing at his brother’s office on a Saturday afternoon in the first place. By the time she’d shared as many of the details as she could bear repeating, they were on their second round of mimosas.

  Meg had kicked off her shoes and sat with her legs tucked under her. “I wonder if he’s done it before, pretended to be his brother. Some sets of twins think it’s funny to swap places and prank other people.”

  “What happened between us went beyond a ‘prank,’” Dani said stiffly, recalling how foolishly close she’d felt to him. She honestly wasn’t sure what ticked her off more
, his dishonesty or how dumb she’d been.

  Time to use your brains, Yates. A smart woman wouldn’t spend another second dwelling on last night or the way he’d touched her. The way he’d coaxed her into laughing and revealing silly anecdotes. The way he’d—

  No more! Kicking him out of her thoughts might not be as easy as kicking him out of her apartment this morning, but she would manage it. After all, she was pretty sure that a guy hard-hearted enough to lie about his identity just to get some action wasn’t giving her a second thought.

  * * *

  BY LATE AFTERNOON, Sean had concluded he couldn’t stand his own company. Being cooped up with the memory of Dani’s stricken expression as she’d ordered him to leave was making him nuts. He called several buddies to see if he could get a poker night going or if anyone wanted to catch the latest spy thriller on the big screen. But all he got were apologies, rain checks and voice-mail recordings. Finally, he stalked out of his town house with no real idea of where he was headed.

  Part of him wanted to go straight back to Dani’s place, to apologize again now that she’d had a few hours to get past her initial shock. But maybe it would be better to approach her at a neutral location, like her office building. She was predisposed to think badly of him right now. If he confronted her at home, she might decide he was a stalker. He’d shredded her opinion of him enough for one day.

  Would she be better off if she’d encountered the real Bryce Grayson yesterday? Bryce wouldn’t have gone home with her, but he wouldn’t have lied to her, either, wouldn’t have put that wounded anger in her eyes. Maybe because Sean was thinking of his brother, or maybe because their shared birthday was tomorrow, he soon found himself rolling up to the security gate at Bryce’s condominium. He punched in the security code, wondering if his brother was even at home.

  Only one way to find out.

  “Sean?” Bryce swung open his front door, his tone confused.

  Whatever Sean might have said in greeting disappeared when he noticed the crisp white dress shirt his brother wore with black suit pants. An unknotted bowtie hung around his collar. “You always dress like a 007 wannabe on Sunday afternoons?”