by Aimee Carson
The light of humor in his eyes grew bigger. “I like Calamity.”
“Of course you do,” she muttered. “She has sex on the brain.”
“An admirable quality in a woman.”
Lips pressed in a line, Jessica kept her eyes on her task as she began to spoon strawberries onto her plate. Why did she let this man’s suggestive comments fluster her? “Just because Calamity Jane said she’d pass on a date with the CEO in favor of the firefighter because he’d know how to ‘put out her fire’...” Jessica couldn’t prevent the roll of her eyes “...does
not mean she was the instant winner of tonight’s debate.”
Serving spoon in hand, Cutter paused to look at her. “Love Potion certainly wasn’t the winner,” he said dryly. “Claiming she’d prefer the CEO because she likes her men both physically and mentally commanding was an insult to firefighters everywhere. It also shows her to be an intellectual snob.” The humor returned to his eyes. “I’d much prefer hearing about Calamity’s escapades.”
Her fingers gripped her plate. “Not acceptable.”
Cutter stopped in the middle of reaching for a canapé, lifting his gaze to hers. “Why not?”
She shot him a heated look and leaned in, keeping her voice low. “Because she’ll only be too happy to tell you about every one of them.”
One corner of his lips almost curled into a grin. “You got a problem with that?”
“Yes,” Jessica said. After scanning the surrounding guests and finding none of them interested in the two of them, she rounded the table and came to a stop beside Carter. “I have a very big problem with that,” she whispered.
And in a weird way she felt oddly left out of every conversation. She was a modern, successful woman. She knew how to flirt. And she was in touch with her sexual self. So why did the banter between Cutter and Calamity intimidate her so?
Cutter leaned uncomfortably close. “What do you have against a few little stories?”
The heat that infused her face was sure to fry the cold shrimp appetizer, and she struggled to maintain her cool. Deep down, she had the awful suspicion that Calamity’s details would throw Jessica’s entire sex life into sharp relief—sedate, quiet...
And boring.
She pushed the annoying thought aside.
Jessica gripped her plate harder. “Sexual relationships are not for public consumption. They should be kept private.” She went on, grappling for the right words. “Sharing the details belittles the intimacy between two people and...” Her voice died as she saw the look on his face. “Why are you smiling?”
He hardly ever smiled. Hinted at one, yes. Skirted the edges, absolutely.
But full engagement was rare.
And the one he was sending her now sent her body into a sensual tizzy. “Because my bull-o-meter is shooting off the charts again,” he said.
The surge of overheated blood to her face went nuclear, and she forced her gaze back to the buffet table with no idea what she was spooning onto her plate. “It is not bull.”
“Sunshine,” he said as he stepped closer. His voice was low, rumbling with intent. “I don’t know who forgot to send you the memo, but sex does not have to be a mystical meeting of two souls. Sometimes it’s just a physical release between two people who have the hots for each other.” He hiked a brow and the look of desire in his eyes melted her on the spot, fusing her to the floor. “And there is nothing wrong with that.”
While her body fought to unwind the tangle of her seared nerves, he turned and headed for another table of food across the way.
Dignity scrambling for a foothold, she scraped her poise up off the floor and crossed to stand beside Cutter. “Maybe for those of you who haven’t evolved beyond a lower species of animal,” she whispered fiercely.
Cutter’s low rumble of laughter sounded rough from disuse, the delight in his eyes obvious. And the full implication of its meaning hit her squarely between the eyes.
Stunned, she said, “You’re doing this on purpose, aren’t you?”
“Doing what?” The innocent look on his face was clearly false.
“You are.” She stared at him, perturbed she’d walked solidly into his trap. “You’re shoveling out your chauvinistic twaddle just to get me going.”
He pressed his lips together, as if suppressing a grin. “Jessica Wilson on her relationship soapbox is a sight to behold.” With that, Cutter strolled in the direction of the dessert display.
Heart still thumping from her passionate speech, she blinked and pulled herself together, watching him examine his options for a sugar injection. Finally, she strode across to stand beside him at the display of chocolaty decadence.
“Sunshine...” he said. His hand paused above a plate as he lifted his eyes to hers. “If you keep following me around, people are gonna think you’ve got a crush on me.”
She bit back a fiery retort and sucked in a breath. “And if I strangle you next to a platter of chocolate truffles, the we’re-just-friends theory will be impossible to pull off.” Cutter ignored her and went back to filling his plate, and Jessica continued, her voice flat. “Exactly how many of our previous conversations were real and how many were for my benefit only?”
“Not saying,” Cutter said. “Women like men who are mysterious.” He shot her a look brimming with amusement. “Enigmatic.” He stepped closer and leaned in. The proximity of his smoldering green eyes sent her nerves skyrocketing. “Men who know how to put out a woman’s fire.”
Her body felt as if it was being roasted over an open spit, but she stood her ground. “Some of us are more than walking shells of sexual urges, Mr. Thompson.” She managed to keep her tone smooth and confident, but her knees were knocking. So she’d never had a wild fling. So her experiences were with men who treated a woman with care. That did not mean she was missing out. “We have higher goals in life than simple physical relief. Like romance. Meaningful, intelligent conversation.” She sent him a wide-eyed innocent look. “Speaking of which...if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to find my date now.”
His blood pumping from the stimulating exchange, Cutter watched Jessica glide gracefully away, her slender figure elegant as she tossed him a falsely sweet smile over a delectable shoulder.
Jessica Wilson was so sure her emotions were stronger than her physical needs. That basic concepts such as lust and desire couldn’t pollute her lofty goals of spiritual connection and happily ever after. She smiled brightly at Phillip as he handed her a dainty flute of champagne, and then her eyes cut in Cutter’s direction, a self-satisfied smirk on her face.
Little Miss Sunshine was certainly pleased with herself. Poise bordering on a sanctimonious smugness that tickled Cutter no end. The Battle of the Sexes had just gotten interesting, smashing his off-limits vow towards women until he figured out his life.
Because sometimes exceptions had to be made. Sometimes challenges were meant to be met. And explored.
Namely, Jessica Wilson.
Cutter’s gut revved in anticipation, like the shift of lights at a starting line, going from red to yellow to outright, hell-yeah green.
* * *
The petite blonde in the beaded cocktail dress looked confident in her answer. “Love Potion Number Nine was right. Most women choose men who provide intellectual stimulation as well as strength,” she said, looking around their female gathering. The lobby was crowded, and Cutter was standing one group over, but Jessica knew he was listening in. The blonde sent everyone a smile. “What good are muscles if a man lacks intelligence?”
Jessica caught Cutter’s eye and lifted a brow in triumph, and his gaze glimmered with amusement.
Not wanting to be surrounded by five women who were giving a detailed analysis of every online debate since the beginning of the competition, Phillip had left to corral a potential client in the corner. From h
er experience during their first date, Jessica knew Phillip wouldn’t resurface any time soon.
The tall, black-haired lady sent the blonde a supercilious smile. “Susan, I’ve been married and divorced multiple times. Believe me,” she said dryly. “A woman can overlook plenty if her man knows how to put out her fire.”
With murmurs of agreement from the cluster of females, all in support of Calamity Jane’s answer, Jessica’s smile froze. As she struggled for a diplomatically worded comment, she saw Cutter thread through the guests in her direction. He looked intent on joining their debate. She opened her mouth to speak, hoping to cut off any comment he might make, but as he passed by behind her...his fingers grazed her backside, bombarding her body with wicked messages.
Hair standing on end, heart frantically pumping molten lead through her veins, she turned to watch Cutter disappear through a doorway. It took a full thirty seconds for her to recover from the sensual flyby. Or at least long enough for a single rational thought:
Just who did he think he was?
Ticked beyond belief, body on fire, she murmured an excuse to the ladies and followed in his path. When she crossed the threshold into the empty corridor, Cutter appeared to take her arm, eliciting a resurgence of the delicious signals.
“You groped me,” Jessica hissed, annoyed at her instant reaction to the skin-on-skin contact. Her voice went ultra-high frequency. “In public.”
“Yep.” Cutter ignored her distress as he steered her down the deserted hallway, away from the crowd. “’Cause I knew you’d track me down.”
“Groping is unacceptable.” Her feet dragged, slowing their progress. “And I had something to add to the group’s conversation.”
“Hence my actions,” he said, guiding her along. “I was saving you from wasting your time.”
Her feet finally stopped protesting his movements, her anger easing as she remembered the black-haired lady’s comment. “Her priorities are warped.”
The look of mild disgust on his face was amusing. “You people are taking this contest way too seriously,” he said. “And maybe her experience has taught her the importance of sex in maintaining a marriage.”
The light was dim as they headed down the passageway, but she shot Cutter a sharp look anyway. “Or perhaps her warped priorities led to the demise of all her marriages.”
Cutter didn’t reply, just pulled her into a vast room at the end of the corridor, and Jessica halted in surprise, the last of her anger fading away. Too bad he was still holding her arm.
“You brought me to the shark tank?” she said.
“It’s deserted, so it’s a safe place for a conversation. Besides,” he lifted a brow, “it seemed fitting after your encounter with the professional divorcée.” He released her and stopped at the massive glass wall to watch the creatures glide ominously through the water. Cutter turned and leaned a shoulder against the tank. “Speaking of relationship demises, where is this wonderful ex of yours?”
Disturbed by Cutter’s focus on her, Jessica stepped up to the aquarium and kept her eyes on a nurse shark as it slowly passed by, the sinuous undulations mesmerizing. “He got called away on business so he couldn’t make it.”
“And where is Phillip?”
The tone in his voice left no doubt about Cutter’s feelings toward the man. For some reason, Jessica felt the need to defend him. “Phillip is brilliant, charming and a sophisticated conversationalist. And yes,” she went on at the look Cutter shot her, “he is a little fixated on his business.” She cleared her throat. “Right now he’s talking to a potential client.”
Cutter sent her a questioning glance. “Does this happen to you regularly?”
She studied him, bewildered. His presence made it difficult to concentrate, but it was the expression on his face that finally lifted the confusion.
“Ahhh,” she said, with a small smile. Silly man thought he had her all worked out. “I get it.” Amused, she tucked her hands behind the small of her back and leaned against the glass, palms against the tank. “You think my attitude towards sex stems from disappointment in my relationships. That I’ve been withering away like a piece of neglected fruit on a vine.”
“Well, there’s sex.” He lifted an eyebrow suggestively. “And then there’s sex.”
The promise in his voice, and the memory of his touch, set her body throbbing again, but she simply rolled her eyes. “Thanks for clearing that up.”
Cutter reached out and touched a single finger to her arm, sending a shock wave of shivers up Jessica’s back. The dim light couldn’t disguise the heated look in his green eyes. And there was no amusement on his face, just determination and conviction.
He ran his finger from her elbow to her shoulder, leaving a sizzling trail in its wake. “I can clear it up right now.”
Her body launched into a sensual tizzy, her breathing forced. “I’m here with a date.”
A date of convenience only, and Phillip knew that. But still...
“So having sex with one guy while out with another is a no-no, huh?”
Her heart was tapping so vehemently, the vibration shook her from the inside out. But appearing confident was paramount. And she was confident.
“Of course it is,” she said. But the intent in Cutter’s eyes—and the potential hanging between them—tinted her words with desperation. “And great sex does not take the place of common interests.” Lovely, now she was beginning to sound like a ridiculous prude, but everything about the man left her rattled. He stepped closer, enveloping her senses, and her body wound impossibly tighter. Determined to throw him off, she lifted her chin, hoping her voice was calm. “Or scintillating conversation.”
Ignoring her lecture, Cutter slowly leaned his head forward, and her nose filled with his musky scent. Sweat
dotted the nape of her neck. She closed her eyes, waiting. Anticipating. But instead of kissing her, as she’d expected, he gave her shoulder a small nip.
Desire flooded her every cell, and her palms grew damp against the glass.
The gesture was not meant to be soothing. Or to gently seduce. It held the promise of fantasies her dreams had hinted at but never fully explored. The kind that slipped away when you woke, leaving you wanting, but unsure of exactly what.
Lips against her shoulder, he said nonchalantly, “What kind of conversation?”
She swallowed hard, her throat constricted. “Books.” He moved to nibble at her ear, and goose bumps pricked, leaving her hair on end again. She bit her lip to prevent a groan from escaping, trying to focus on the cool glass against her hot, slick palms.
What was wrong with her? Where was her backbone? She should push him back. But she couldn’t. She should walk away.
But she didn’t want to.
Because deep down she wanted to know what those dreams had contained. Intuitively, she knew Cutter could show her.
His mouth moved down her neck, nipping gently, coiling her nerves, searing her skin as he went. “Any other topics allowed?” He pulled her hips against his hard thighs, and her knees went wobbly.
Her mind swimming in the heat of desire, she whispered, “Movies.” One of his hands moved higher up her rib cage, and her voice broke a bit. “Good wine, music and current events,” she finished desperately, proud she could speak coherently.
He lifted his head to stare at her, his thigh between her legs, and his hand cupping a breast. “Do you want me to do this?” He flicked his thumb across a tip. Her tenuous grip on sanity shattered like crystal on marble, and her nipples went taut, pleasure sluicing down her spine. “Or do you want me to discuss the historical significance of Picasso?”
Staring up at him, she heard her answer come out as an unintelligible mumble. And, as if the babbling words were a signal, his mouth landed on hers. The kiss absolutely lacked gentle finesse. Brimmed with power. Basic. Un
apologetic.
Just like the man.
It lit a fire deep within, more decadent than she’d ever known, and kindled her response in return. Jessica reached up and gripped Cutter’s shirt, clutching him as her lips met his turn for turn. Hands, large and scalding her through her silk, cupped her backside, and he arched her hips firmly against him, his hard thigh rubbing against her center.
At the shocking skitter of pleasure, a small cry escaped her, and after several strokes, Cutter pulled his mouth from hers and said, “Maybe you’d rather discuss the merits of imported over domestic wines?”
Her comeback strangled in the back of her throat, desperate for another kiss.
He nibbled on her bottom lip, teasing her as he went on. “Debate the meaning behind the latest foreign film?”
“Oh, for the love of God,” she ground out in frustration. “Give it a rest.” And like a heat seeker, her mouth sought his.
The kiss went from wild ride to raw need. No hiding behind convention. No subtle hints as to what he wanted. Cutter’s grip on her backside grew tight, pulling her hips firmer against his leg, increasing the contact, and twisting her stomach into tight knots of desire. Seconds slipped into minutes as Jessica drowned in the feel of hard lips and harder thigh, a visceral riot of sensation.
Desire wrapped her securely within its grasp, demanding satisfaction. Demanding release. Overwhelmed, she felt tears of pleasure burn the backs of her lids and choke her throat with need. Abandoning her lips, Cutter dropped his mouth to her shoulder again, this time nipping a touch harder, throwing her further into the inferno, and the sharp stab mirrored the ache in her body...and sent her toppling over the edge.
A psychedelic burst of color erupted behind her lids, and her muscles knotted tightly as the pleasure rippled along her body.
Cutter’s touch grew gentle as Jessica slowly descended to terra firma. She gradually became aware of the cold glass of the shark tank at her back, Cutter’s mouth at her neck, his warm breath on her skin. Her legs felt shaky, and she was definitely feeble in the knees.