“He likes Pippin.”
“One-hundred-sixty pounds of sharp teeth and uncontrollable enthusiasm? What’s not to like?” He chuckled at her smirk. “I was referring to the grandpa part.”
“Don’t you ever plan to have kids?” The question slipped out and she cringed. “Sorry,” she said quickly. “Forget I asked.”
“Why?” His intent gaze tangled with hers. “It’s a logical question. I haven’t given kids a lot of thought. Someday, I guess. What about you?”
“Someday, I guess,” she parroted. “Bring the wine, will you?”
She stepped past him, set the salad on the table, and sat down. He followed, taking the seat across from her, and accepted the plate she offered.
“That’s the thing about people like us,” he said, continuing the dangerous thread of conversation she’d foolishly introduced. “When you’re not interested in a relationship, the concept of kids isn’t an immediate consideration.”
She passed him the covered basket of rolls without comment.
“Was it ever for you?”
“Was what ever what?” she asked, stifling a groan.
“An immediate consideration. Was there ever a man in your life who made you think of white picket fences and the expected two-point-five kids?”
Crap.
Her failed engagement was the last thing she wanted to discuss. The subject would only bring more questions. Maybe she should take Brian’s advice and climb into Coop’s lap, after all.
“There was a guy once when I was in college,” she admitted reluctantly.
“What happened?”
“I was young and he was a dick.” She busied her shaking hands by slathering butter over a roll. “We both learned a valuable lesson.” She attempted to shove the conversation along in another direction. “What about you? Any potential ex-Mrs. Reeds in your past?”
He smiled. “None.”
“Ever been close?”
He shook his head.
“Hmmm…” She cocked her head to study him, breathing a sigh of relief when he didn’t immediately pepper her with questions. “What are you, thirty-five?”
“Thirty-six.”
“You know.” She waggled her fork at him. “When a man reaches his mid-thirties without ever having been seriously tangled with a woman, it means one of two things.”
Humor brightened his eyes at her challenging smile. “For the record, I’m heterosexual.”
“Phew!” She batted her lashes in exaggerated relief. “For a minute there you had me worried.” He chuckled. “From what Lilly says, you have a master’s degree in interviewing candidates, but you are still taking your prerequisites in the actual hiring.”
“Lilly always did have an interesting way with words.”
“Which leaves commitment issues.”
“Bingo.”
“They say admitting the problem is the first step to recovery.”
“If recovery is the goal.” The teasing humor faded from his eyes, replaced by guardedness. “I’m content with the status quo.”
“Oka-a-ay,” she drew out the word. “New subject.” She rose from the table and headed for the kitchen, calling over her shoulder, “How about them Yankees?”
He laughed and the subtle tension passed.
“Sil seems pretty excited about the foundation’s Fourth of July fundraiser,” he said when she returned. “Are you going?”
“Of course.” She handed him a plate of manicotti and slid back into her chair. “Are you?”
“I am now.”
His eyes were full of seductive promises, his tone deep with the tug of sexual awareness. She stifled a shiver, tempted to sit back and wait, see what he would do next. Maybe he’d just been biding his time, adhering to the mythical third date rule himself.
God, she hoped so, because she sucked at vamping. The minute she opened her mouth, she walked them straight into a philosophical cold shower. Kids and commitments, and white picket fences, for crying out loud! Could she have chosen a topic less likely to whip a man into a sexual frenzy?
But as the meal progressed, though he responded to her clumsy attempts at flirtation, he made no moves of his own. Clearly, if she wanted carnal knowledge of Coop tonight, she would have to be the one to initiate it.
“About the fundraiser,” he said, following her into the kitchen and handing her the cloth he’d used to wipe up the remnants of their meal. She flipped off the faucet, leaving the manicotti pan to soak, and faced him. “Do you have any contacts on the inside?” he teased. “I don’t seem to have a ticket.”
Dinner over, she was no closer to achieving her goal than when he’d arrived. Time to step up the effort.
“I might know someone.” She cocked her head, pulling out her best effort at seductive persuasion. Dipping her chin, she peeked at him from below her lowered lashes and pursed her lips in a pout. “But the tickets are hard to come by. What are you willing to pay?”
God, she sounded like an overblown actress in a B movie.
Humor danced in his eyes and her heart sank. Was he laughing at her? Okay, this was ridiculous. Time to try a different tack. She straightened her spine and opened her mouth to ask him flat out why he had yet to take her to bed when he stepped forward, crowding her against the counter. He dipped his head, stopping when his mouth was a breath from hers.
“What did you have in mind?”
Hmmm, maybe she hadn’t totally mucked this up. Before she could chicken out, she rested her hands against his lapels, running them up and around the back of his collar. Rising on tiptoe, she brushed her lips against his in a barely-there caress. “Let me think,” she whispered.
Fingers tangled in his hair, she pulled his head down. She put all she was into the kiss, opening her mouth to his tongue, thrilled when he accepted her invitation with enthusiasm. His tongue sank deep, warm and flavored with wine, the slight tang of her red sauce and Coop himself. He took charge. As though released from some invisible chain, his arms came around her, yanking her close. The violent shudder of his big body shook her all the way down to her soul.
Hot damn, she crowed silently. Rylee Pierce, vamp extraordinaire!
Chapter Eleven
When she melted against him in unspoken surrender, relief crumbled under Coop’s need to devour her whole. He accepted what she offered so sweetly, and then demanded more. Tucking her close, he groaned at the way her curves molded to the hard planes of his body. Everything male in him snapped to attention, muscles tightening, blood surging in anticipation of masculine victory. Finally, the waiting was over.
Charmed by her hesitant attempt at seduction, bold one moment, unsure the next, he’d spent the last hour forcing himself to hold back. Instead of swiping the table clean of her delicious meal and spreading her out on the glossy wooden surface, he reminded himself to let her come to her own conclusion on how tonight would end.
But holding back was no longer an option, not with her body plastered to his. The spark of attraction simmering between them from their first meeting burst into a raging inferno and Coop welcomed the lick of flames.
He allowed his need free rein to taste, to touch—to possess. Tongues tangling in a pitched battle of greedy pleasure, his hands discovered the curves that haunted his dreams. His fingers curled around the globes of her ass, sinking into the rounded flesh responsible for that “follow me, big boy” walk of hers. He ground her mound against his erection, his low groan matching hers.
She wiggled her hips beneath the pressure of his hold and the friction shot a flood of white-hot adrenaline straight to his groin. Beads of sweat popped out on his brow. He considered dragging her to the floor, but the desire for the comfort of a bed stopped him.
He gentled their kiss, nibbling at her lips as they continued to reach for his. She suddenly stiffened in his arms and he lifted his head, opening his eyes to find hers squeezed tight.
“Rylee?”
She shook her head.
“Rylee, look at me.”
/>
Her lashes fluttered open to reveal eyes black with frustration. She attempted to push out of his arms, but he held her steady.
“Hey, what’s wrong? Where are you going?”
“To find a weapon,” she ground out. “If you tell me you have a brief you need to work on, I’m going to have to hurt you.”
He grinned. “No brief. And I’m not going anywhere, except to find a bed.”
“Oh.” She blinked. “Good.” Her tense shoulders relaxed and she settled in his arms once again. “Because I have to tell you, that habit you have of kissing me senseless and then disappearing is really annoying.”
“Not to mention uncomfortable.” He flexed his hips to show her the exact location of his discomfort.
“Serves you right,” she accused. “You’ve been confusing the crap out of me.”
He pressed a kiss to the tip of her nose. “I was trying to be a gentleman.”
She toyed with the hair at the nape of his neck. “Well, stop. It’s irritating.”
“Done,” he said immediately and she laughed. “About that bed?”
“Follow me.”
She turned and he grabbed her hand, but didn’t follow. He waited until she paused, glancing back at him over her shoulder.
“Are you sure, Rylee? I don’t want you to have any regrets.”
She faced him, her smile wry. “I was sure two weeks ago. You’re a temptation I can’t seem to resist, despite my better judgment,” she admitted artlessly. “My brain just needed a little while to catch up with my libido. As for future regrets,” she shrugged, “they’re unavoidable.”
The conversation wasn’t going the way he’d expected, but frankly, his body didn’t give a damn. She’d just announced she wanted him as badly as he did her, and every male instinct screamed at him to do something about it. But the odd sadness in her eyes made him hesitate. “If you’re not ready…”
“Do I look like I’m not ready?”
“You look like every man’s dream.”
She smiled, rose up on her toes to brush his mouth with hers, and then tugged on his hand as she backed through the condo toward the hallway.
He’d discover the reason for her sadness later. With a wide step forward, he scooped her against him. Her low laughter and slender legs wrapping around his waist tossed fuel on the inferno. One arm beneath her bottom, he went in search of a bed.
“Which way?” he demanded between kisses.
“Turn right.” She clung to him, yelping on a laugh when he tumbled with her onto the big four-poster.
The thin straps of her dress fell victim to his haste, but she laughed at the sound of rending cloth while her fingers tore at the knot of his tie. Unable to resist all that gleaming skin, he explored the curve of her shoulder and delicate collarbone with an open mouth. He tugged at the delicate cloth, peeling away the sexy, red temptation to discover she wore no bra, and swallowed with an audible click.
Under her working fingers, he shrugged his shoulders free of both his suit jacket and the shirt she’d unbuttoned, his eyes never leaving the generous mounds of her breasts. Her dusky pink nipples pouted up at him and he lowered his head to capture a peak between his lips. With a growl, he yanked the material from his arms, sending it flying across the room, and then settled down to worship her, as she deserved.
She was exquisite. Her lightly bronzed complexion showed only a faint shadow of the delicate veins beneath her flawless skin. Her nipples, small and puckered, reminded him of the wild berries he’d savored as a boy. They tasted just as sweet, as did the mysterious cleft of her navel. He worked down her body, shedding her of the remains of her dress, peeling away the tiny scrap of lace covering the entrance to paradise.
He brushed his fingertips over the triangle of dark curls and her hips lifted as if to follow the path of his touch. Tempted by the sultry scent filling his nostrils, he dipped his head to feast, but her fingers twining through his hair delayed him. As though her need was as urgent as his, she tugged at the strands, directing him back up her body to fuse her lips to his.
“Coop.” Both demand and plea, she whispered his name as her hands skimmed over his chest to his waist. Her fingers fumbled with his belt buckle and he shifted, lifting his hips to discard his slacks with more speed than grace.
“I can’t wait to be inside you,” he growled, his mouth pressed to the taut tendons of her neck.
“Oh, God.” She tossed her head back, giving him better access. “Yes, please,” she breathed. Her hands went to his waist. “Let me—ohhh…” She moaned when he delicately bit the curve of her jaw.
He jolted when she snapped the waistband of his underwear. “Another of your briefs,” she gasped a heaving breath, “is the cause of one more delay.”
A chuckle vibrated in his chest. Rolling to his side, he shoved his shorts down his hips and legs, tossing them aside. He flung an arm over the side of the bed and searched the floor for his slacks and the condoms in the pocket. His muscles quivered with sensual tension, clamoring for that moment when he would slip inside her and find relief. Ripping open the foil disk, he was surprised to find his hands were shaking.
Her eyes were black with passion when he rolled to face her. Like a blowtorch, her heated gaze scorched his naked body, until he was afraid he’d embarrass himself like an untried teenager.
Mounting her, he used his thighs to settle in place, and staring into those dark, “love me, baby” orbs, he reached down to guide himself home, arriving with a single, heavy thrust. She gasped and her eyes went wide, but her legs came around his hips and held him close.
“You okay?” he asked, though his inquiry was a risk. If she called a halt now, he wasn’t sure he’d survive.
Her eyes were shaded by lids drooped with sensuality, but humor danced in them as well. “Are you being a gentleman again, Coop?” The question came out on a strangled burst of breath. “I thought we’d settled that.”
“Smartass.” He swallowed her breathless laugh with his kiss.
He couldn’t recall ever having the urge to laugh while buried deep within a woman. Rylee Pierce managed to make him laugh, despite the urge to plunge and plunder clawing at his gut. His shoulders shook with mirth, and with a mental shrug, he accepted that the woman surrounding him with her searing heat was like none other he’d had the pleasure of touching. The realization should concern him, but he’d worry about it later…much, much later.
Past the point of desperation, finesse fell victim to frenzy. His hips surged against hers with ever-increasing speed. The exquisite pleasure of her tight sheath surrounding him drove him toward the abyss. Sweat beaded his skin. Jaw muscles clamped tight, he gritted his teeth against the tingling at the base of his spine, a forerunner to his looming release. A thrust or two would send him hurtling into oblivion and he wanted her with him when he flew.
She moved beneath him, her body gyrating in a dance choreographed by a master. High color stained her sharp cheekbones, announcing she was close. Bending at the waist, he urged her along, gently closing his teeth around a budded nipple. The love bite launched a startled scream from her throat, and with the rhythmic clenching of her inner muscles dragging him, he rocketed over the edge with her.
****
Rylee stared up at the ceiling, her breathing ragged. Coop lay sprawled on top of her, his labored breath huffing in her ear.
It’s like riding a bike, Brian had said. Hah! That was not like any bike ride she had ever been on, unless she counted her one and only experience on the back of Brian’s Harley. She’d staggered away from the hair-raising adventure on legs the consistency of cooked noodles, promising herself never again. With Coop the ride was just as wild, and her body lay spent, like one big noodle, but she was already anxious to climb back on and go for another spin.
Holy cow!
For a guy who left her dangling two weeks, when he finally got down to business, he didn’t waste any time. Pouncing on her, he drove her toward climax like a man possessed. He gave her
no time to catch her breath, and yet she didn’t feel cheated in the least. From the moment he touched her, wave after wave of the most intense pleasure she had ever experienced swamped her, like rising floodwaters pushing her toward ecstasy. Primed and clinging to sanity by sheer force of will, she was surprised she didn’t go under the moment he entered her.
Longevity, at least on her part, had never been a problem with Marcus. She’d assumed it normal for a woman to fall short of orgasm more often than not, unlike a man. She’d also assumed that when a woman did manage to ride the wave to completion, the payoff was a gentle lapping of the tide, fading quickly to pleasant lassitude. How wrong she’d been…on both counts.
With the right incentive, her orgasm was a foregone conclusion, and minutes later her head still spun and her body still throbbed from the powerful whirlpool she experienced in Coop’s arms.
The idea of all those candidate interviews Coop must have performed to gain his sexual talent made her frown. Still, she couldn’t fault the results. And considering the continued, deep bellowing of his lungs, she figured she had some skills of her own.
“Coop,” she whispered.
He groaned. “Rylee. Give me a minute, okay?”
She snickered at his gravelly response. “I was just checking to see if you needed oxygen or anything.”
His low laugh vibrated through his chest to hers, and with a grunt, he pushed up on his elbows to smile down at her. “Feeling pleased with yourself, are you?”
“You bet your ass.” She grinned. “I rocked your world.”
“Ah.” He cocked his head. “That must have been the rumbling sound I heard…right before you screamed.”
When he had a point, he had a point.
“Bet you can’t do it again.” She laughed when he narrowed his eyes.
Still joined as they were, she couldn’t miss his reaction to her sensual challenge. He swelled inside her and her laugh turned into a pleasured gasp.
“I’ll take that bet.” He lowered his mouth to hers.
“Mmm…” She tightened her arms around him. “I can’t lose.”
That Dating Thing Page 9