Sultry in Stilettos

by Nana Malone

  Ricca’s breath caught. He’d been thinking about her? Hell, if she’d known that, she’d have cooked for him years ago. But could she do this? Open herself up to him literally and figuratively? She searched his gaze as he cupped her cheek again.

  His voice low and gravelly, he said, “We’ll take this as slow as you want. I just want to look at you.”

  The part of her that had always been in love with him wrestled her rational brain to the ground and locked it in a safe. She let go of her tank, letting it fall to her waist.

  Beckett hissed in a breath. “You’re beautiful.”

  Ricca battled the urge to cover herself. Men had always been a little obsessed with her breasts. But no one had looked at her so adoringly. Like she was a goddess.

  Beckett’s eyes went wide, and his lips parted. His gaze was hot, hungry. When he licked his bottom lip, heat pooled at her center.

  Slowly Beckett stepped into her and dipped his head, nuzzling her throat. His heat surrounded her driving her crazy. God, he was so big. Broad shoulders. Wide chest. Big hands. He drove her just to the edge of madness with his lips, and then he’d stop and only give her the lightest brush of contact. Just enough to tantalize.

  His teeth scored her neck, and Ricca shuddered even as she wrapped her legs around him, desperate to bring him closer. He used his tongue to lick the tiny injury and kissed his way to her collar bone. When he nipped her flesh, she cried out his name. His hips jerked against hers, and he muttered a curse at her throat.

  Beckett laid her on the cool granite and kissed the column of her sternum, avoiding her breasts all together, and Ricca whined. He chuckled against her flesh as he kissed down to her belly button. “Don’t worry, I’ll get to them.”

  He took his time kissing the planes of her stomach, and she tried urging him up toward her breasts by tugging his hair. That earned her a nip. “I love it when you tug baby, but I have plans on taking my time. If you can’t behave, I’ll have to restrain you.”

  She’d never really been into bondage play, but with Beckett, she shivered as she considered what it would be like for him to do what he wanted with her body. “Who knew you were so kinky.”

  His eyes darkened to a deep brown. And he looked like he wanted to completely devour her. In this position, his erection lined right up to her center. With every move, he rubbed against her. With every flick of her tongue, she felt him harden and the heat emanating from him burn at inferno levels.

  As Beckett finally kissed his way back to her breasts, she didn’t know how much more she could take. With every brush of his lips against her flesh, her hips moved in an ancient rhythm. Beckett kissed the underside of her breasts, and she skimmed her fingers over the coiled muscles of his shoulders. Tension twisted in her belly, and Ricca drew in a shuddering breath. She rocked her hips against him once more.

  Beckett’s growl was low and feral. “Jesus, Ricca.” He hovered over one breast and his breath tickled the sensitive tip, causing it to pebble.

  He smiled and gently blew on the tight bud again. She moaned as he covered the tip of her breast with his lips. He used his teeth to graze the turgid tip. The mind numbing pleasure chased the prick of pain. Replacing his teeth with his tongue, he laved the tip, first tugging, gently sending a spike of lust through her center, then suckling. The teasing of his tongue and the moist heat of his mouth coupled with his hips rocking against hers, and Ricca felt an impending orgasm tripping up her spine. “Beckett.” She exhaled his name on a breath.

  His hand skimmed up her stomach to tease the tight bud of her other nipple.

  “Beckett. Oh god, I—” The orgasm crashed through her body with the force of a two-ton semi. Her legs tightened around his hips, and she arched her body into his as waves of ecstasy traveled from her cerebral cortex to the rest of her body. All she could think was that she wanted more. More of this. More of Beckett. Just more.

  Blinking rapidly she looked up at him. “Beckett.”

  His voice was low growl. “Holy shit, you are so hot when you come.”

  They were all over each other with the speed of lighting. He pulled back. Tugging at the tank she’d let fall to her waist, he struggled to get her tank top over her head. As she reached for his sweats, he hooked his fingers in her leggings and yanked them down, all the while devouring her lips. When he dug his fingers into her hair, he said, “Promise me you’re never going to go back to wearing a bun again.”

  “Deal.” She wanted to make him promise to stop dating models, but that wouldn’t get her anywhere.

  When he slipped a hand inside her damp panties, his eyes fluttered closed, and his lips parted. He grinned. “I thought you were a Trini girl. I didn’t know you had Brazilian roots.”

  She flushed and ducked her head. “Not something I thought I’d ever be telling you.”

  “You realize now, this is all I’ll be able to think about. Especially when we’re in one of those long debrief meetings and you cross and uncross your legs. It’ll be like my own personalized torture chamber not being able to touch you.” He slipped a finger inside her, and the fire in her core crackled to life again.

  “Jesus, Beckett.”

  He cut her off with a kiss and impatiently started tugging her leggings down.

  A soft scraping came from the living room, and Ricca frowned. It sounded like—

  Beckett distracted her with his deft fingers. When she heard the jangle of keys, she froze. Beckett blinked and shook his head as if trying to clear it. Then his eyes went wide. “Ricca, stay here, okay? I’ll get rid of whoever it is. I’ll be right back. It’s probably just the maid. I emailed her and told her not to come today. But maybe she missed it.”

  The moment he withdrew, she sat up. Someone was here? Shit. She scrambled off the island. Holy shit, she’d just been about to have some seriously hot sex with Beckett on his kitchen island. The maid could have found them here screwing like horny teenagers. Another hot flush tinged her cheeks. What the hell had gotten into her?

  Snatching up her tank top, she dragged it on and fastened the bra. She slipped into her button-down and smoothed her hair. Had she really just been about to have sex with Beckett? Her body screamed hell to the yes. Her brain screamed, you better take off those clothes and go jump in his bed. Cold granite can be murder on the spine.

  But something told her there was a problem in irresponsibility land. Something didn’t feel right. There were no voices from the living room. Checking the stainless steel backsplash to make sure she looked presentable, or at the very least not like she’d just had an orgasm at the hand of her best friend, courtesy of some serious dry humping, she turned off the curry and moved it to another burner. Lucky for her, the curry hadn’t burned.

  Ricca slipped her flats back on. She did a quick sweep around the kitchen, hoping it didn’t scream, I almost had hot sex, then strolled out into the living room. Beckett's broad back blocked her view of the door opening. But it was clear he was talking to someone, keeping his voice low.

  “Beckett? Who’s at the doo—”

  At the sound of her voice, he whipped around, guilt and anxiety etched all over his face. “Ricca, I—”

  She didn’t even hear him, because her gaze was focused on the doorjamb. In all her blond perfection stood Angel. She looked as shocked and confused as Ricca felt.

  Ricca opened her mouth to mutter a greeting. Good breeding didn’t escape her even now, when she should have given Angel the full force of her scowl for interrupting her moment with Beckett. They’d almost made love, and evil Barbie had found a way to ruin it.

  Angel narrowed her eyes and scowled at Beckett. “I thought you said you were resting. What the fuck is she doing here?”

  For several beats, Ricca held her breath. It wasn’t until her head swam and she swayed that her brain kicked in and she dragged in a breath. Angel? Here in Beckett’s apartment—with keys? Maybe she’d come to drop something off? Ricca scrutinized Angel. She didn’t seem to have anything.

  Ricca
cleared her throat. “You dropping something off from the Fantasy files?” She kept her voice neutral, hoping she didn’t sound hopeful.

  Angel’s smile was devilish. “You could say that.”

  Beckett stepped between them, blocking Ricca’s view. “Angel had a message to deliver. And I got it. She was just leaving.”

  “Not so fast.” Angel stepped around Beckett. “What are you doing here, Ricca? Playing nursemaid or doctor?

  “Angel, that’s enough.” Beckett’s voice was a low growl.

  “Wow, you are a lucky bastard. As you convalesce, women just come over to throw themselves at you. Must be nice.”

  Ricca still didn’t compute. But something told her hot sex was off the table, so to speak. She slid Beckett a glance. “I’m going to head out. The curry is on the stove. Let it cool, then you can store it in the freezer. I left you some of the naan I made in the fridge too.” She tipped her head up and met his gaze. “I’ll see you in the office.” God, talk about a cold shower. All warmth that had lingered on her skin was replaced by goose bumps. If he wanted to continue where they left off, he'd be waiting until they made snowballs in hell.

  Beckett finally found his voice. “No, Ricca, stay for dinner. You cooked. Angel really was just leaving.” He turned to the leggy blonde. “You said everything you have to say, right?” He stuck his hands in his pockets.

  Angel looked from him to Ricca and back again. “You’re shitting me, right? You actually expect me to go?”

  Ricca didn’t understand why Beckett’s stance was so aggressive. She studied him again, then frowned. More like he was apathetic. Deliberately not standing close to her. Not taking her arm and leading her out. The jangle of keys filled the air, and Ricca knew why.

  Angel had a key. Ricca’s whole body went numb. Oh, God. Angel. That bitch had tortured her for months, and all the while Beckett had been sleeping with her? Ricca’s stomach rolled. The usually comforting scent of coriander and coconut milk made her want to vomit.

  He was a liar. He might have stood up for her in some situations, but behind the scenes, he was sleeping with evil Barbie. Ricca placed a hand on her stomach in an attempt to ward off the nausea. She pegged Beckett with a glare, and he reached for her hand.

  “Ricca, wait. I can explain. It’s not what you think.”

  Ricca scooped her purse and jacket up from the nearby loveseat where she’d left them. “So you’re saying that the two of you aren’t sleeping together?”

  “No. Yes.” Beckett dragged his hands through his hair. “Wait, I—”

  “Allow me to explain,” Angel said with a smile. “Me and your bestie were going at it pretty hot and heavy for a couple of weeks. Now he wants to act like he’s too busy to see me.”

  “Shit,” muttered Beckett. “It was a couple of times. Completely not worth mentioning.”

  Ricca nodded. “Right. Well, I’ll just leave you two to it.”

  Beckett said something that she didn’t hear. She simply walked out. I will not cry. I will not cry. She kept her pace even when she wanted to do nothing more than to run out crying. Beckett and Angel. How the hell had she missed this? Angel had said they’d been sleeping together for months. God she felt so stupid. And she’d been in his place about to have sex with him. Angel’s sloppy seconds. Ew.

  “Ricca, wait. “

  She whirled around. He came sprinting down the hallway. “No, Beckett. Don’t say anything. It’s okay. It’s fine. You can do whatever you want. We’re not tied to each other. And God—Angel. Well, she was a model. I get it.”

  “No, Ricca. Shit. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I had no idea she was coming over. We’re over. Been over for months. It was a stupid, stupid thing that never should have happened.” He rubbed his shoulder.

  Instantly, she wanted to ask if he was okay, but her fury prevented her. “Beckett, I understand. What happened before Angel. I—” She flushed. “I don’t know what happened.”

  He reached for her, and she stepped out of his reach. “Just come back, and we can talk. I sent her packing, and I’m changing my locks first thing in the morning. I swear, she only had a key because I let her stay here when her place was fumigated back when we were, uh, seeing each other. She gave my key back, but I guess she made a copy. That’s it! It wasn’t some long secret relationship. I swear!”

  Ricca shook her head. “I can’t. Angel, Beckett? And you never once mentioned—you know what?” She rolled onto her heels as she peered up at him. “I’m done.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Relax, Ricca, it's just a date, she muttered to herself as she fussed with her dress. The low-cut burgundy number displayed more of her double D's than she usually put out there. But the color complemented her cinnamon skin tone, and she'd taken care with her make up. For effect, she’d pinned up one side of her hair to give her the full 1930’s gangster girlfriend look. Ricca applied another coat of lipstick and stared at herself in the mirror. She looked dressed for sex. Not that Carter would be so lucky.

  She slipped her feet in the ridiculously expensive Christian Louboutins of Jaya’s. Instantly, she felt better. Ready to take on the world. And the shoes were the perfect complement. She prayed she didn’t trip or spill anything on her dress.

  Though, while she might have looked like sex, she was in no mood to have any. After the debacle with Beckett yesterday, she’d completely forgotten she was supposed to go out with Carter tonight. That was until he showed up in her office today and told her how much he was looking forward to the evening.

  Exhausted or not, she was going out with Carter tonight. She needed the distraction and maybe Charles was right after all. She’d always been a serial monogamist. Maybe she gave a hard-core marriage vibe. Well she didn’t mean to. But tonight was all about fun. She wouldn’t ruin it by thinking about that lying asshole.

  When the doorbell chimed, she sucked in a deep breath. She liked Carter. He was nice, attentive, and sexy. She just didn’t feel any chemistry. At least not chemistry like with Beckett. "Stop it, Ree," she mumbled under her breath. You can’t have him. He's not right for you anyway. Carter, on the other hand, was perfect on paper. "Time to see if you’re perfect in person.”

  When she swung the door open, Carter stood there leaning against the doorjamb, holding a giant sunflower. “Hello, beautiful.”

  Of all the things she’d pegged Carter as, she’d never pictured him as the traditional bring-a-girl-flowers type. “Oh, wow, thank you. It’s beautiful.” She raised her eyebrows. “And completely unexpected. Carter, don’t tell me you’re a romantic.”

  He grinned, and Ricca had the urge to giggle. The smile gave him such a boyish quality—like he was meant to be youthful and mischievous.

  “Of course I’m a romantic. Do you want me to come in while you get a vase or something?” The question was innocuous, but his altar boy smile and hungry eyes warned her that inviting him inside probably wasn’t a good idea.

  “No need. I’ve got a vase of flowers right here.” She tucked the sturdy stem into the vase occupied by cheery flowers she’d picked up. She’d give the flower its own vase when she got home.

  “So what you’re saying is, I’ll have to work a lot harder to get an invite inside?”

  Ricca rolled her eyes. “A lot harder.”

  His chuckle was low and deep. “I have to warn you, I’m up for a challenge.”

  “Carter, you’re incorrigible.”

  “I know. It’s a gift.”

  She eyed him. "Who told you I like sunflowers?"

  He smiled a warm smile. "Who said anyone had to tell me. Maybe I just paid attention."

  She scrutinized him through narrowed eyes. "Myra told you?" The Fantasies administrative assistant was the only one who ever seemed to remember Ricca's birthday, and she always made sure Ricca received sunflowers.

  He grinned. "Busted, but it’s the thought that counts, isn't it?"

  "Yeah, I guess it is." An errant thought slipped into her consciousness. Beckett remembered he
r birthday too. And her favorite flowers. Even though he never did a big office splash, he always got her a great present. Last year it had been the most delicate bangles he'd found in Jamaica when he was there for a Fantasies client.

  Ricca shook her head and forced herself to listen to the prattle coming out of Carter’s mouth. Something about the restaurant.

  "Are you ready?" As she grabbed her purse and shawl, he led her out, telling some funny anecdote about his last fantasy.

  And the laughs didn’t stop there, as he led her out of her apartment, he helped her down the stairs, into his car, and opened her door. He was a gentleman mixed with a little bit of a rake. But she completely saw the appeal.

  As they pulled out of her complex and turned onto Vermont St., her breath caught. On the corner of Vermont and Robinson stood Beckett. All 6’5” of him. His sling was gone, and he looked furious.

  Ricca quickly whipped her head around and focused on her date as he regaled her with stories of his childhood. She would not think about Beckett. Would not think about the way he’d humiliated her yesterday. And she certainly would not think about the way he tasted or how his mouth felt on hers. Instantly, her body melted, and she muttered a curse.

  “Whoa, did Ricca Munroe just swear? I thought you were Miss Prim and Proper.”

  “I ah, just realized I forgot to do something at the office. I’ll deal with it tomorrow.”

  “You want me to swing us by there? It’s got to be pretty serious if it made you swear. Besides, I’ve been having this fantasy lately of you and me in the office and—”

  “Carter!”

  He grinned. “I was going to say we were going over reports. What? Too forward?”

  “Yeah, a little.” Despite his teasing and sexual innuendo, Ricca realized she was already enjoying herself. Carter was easy to talk to, educated, interesting, and lively. Brooding wasn’t in his nature.

  Then why were snippets of her brain lingering on Beckett? Because you’re in love with him.