“I’m glad tonight happened.” Imminent sleep slurred her words.
“So am I,” he said.
Despite the suffocating heat, she shifted closer to him and—what the hell, they were both sweaty and sticky—he pulled her into his body. Her thigh slid between his and she curled her arm across his chest. She pressed a tender, drowsy kiss to his chest and he quietly fell a little harder, faster, deeper in love with her.
8
“NO! COME BACK!”
Bloody hell! Simon jerked up, momentarily disoriented by the strange bed, candles and a screeching woman. Righto. Tawny. Her bed. Blackout.
“What’s the matter?” He jumped to his feet and grabbed Tawny, who shook like a leaf.
“Peaches.” She gulped air and motioned to the bedroom window. “He pushed through the screen and went out the window. He’s on the ledge.” She death-gripped his arm. “He doesn’t have any front claws. What if he slips out there?”
She loved that cat. Simon didn’t hesitate, didn’t think, he just did. He worked the screen loose, tossed it back into the room and stuck his head out the window.
“Can you see him?” Tawny squeezed into the window opening. “Oh, God.”
Peaches, now that the deed was done, apparently realized the error of his ways and huddled on the ledge several feet away.
She lowered her voice. “Come on, baby. C’mere, Peaches. I’ve got a nice kitty treat waiting for you.” Her voice shook.
Peaches yowled in kitty hysteria but didn’t budge. Brilliant. If the people in the next apartment opened their window, the cat would probably be startled off the ledge.
Tawny gripped his arm again and Simon tried to reassure her. “Just stay calm.”
“I’m going out there after him,” she said.
“Bloody hell you are.”
“I can’t just leave him.”
“I’ll get him.”
“No. I can’t let you do that. And he doesn’t know you anyway.”
Over his dead body was she going out on that wet ledge. He looked down—all seven floors down—and it might very well be his dead body—but no way, no how was he letting her go.
“Panicked animals respond better to strangers in a rescue situation. I saw it on Animal Planet.” Total, absolute codswallop—to borrow Grandpa Dickie’s favorite expression—and he’d lie again to keep her off the ledge. He edged her out of the window frame and back into the bedroom.
“Wait here and I’ll hand him to you.” He didn’t give her a chance to argue. He climbed out of the window and onto the ledge. It was far narrower than it had appeared from inside.
He gripped the window frame with his left hand and slowly stood, struggling to maintain his balance. He braced his right hand against the rough brick, wishing the ledge was made of the same instead of slick, wet marble. He hugged the building.
He made the mistake of glancing down. Vertigo rocked him. Head swimming, he teetered and then regained his balance. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. He didn’t like heights worth a damn.
“Simon, get back in here,” Tawny said, her head shoved out the window, near his knee.
“I will when I get the cat.” He kept his eyes trained on the building and Peaches.
“How are you going to do that?”
She’d picked a jolly time and place for a conversation. “I don’t know. I’m working on a plan now.”
“Don’t you think you should’ve thought about it before you went out there?”
“I think best under pressure.” More codswallop.
He edged toward Peaches, and his towel—the knot loosened by this climb out the window—inched down his hips. Lovely. He was only wearing a towel and it was falling off. Moving very slowly and carefully, he took it off and draped it over one shoulder. Better to hang his bare butt over a ledge than get tripped up by a towel.
Fuck again. He wasn’t even going to die with dignity. Honor, perhaps, but no dignity.
Buck up. Grow a spine. He could do this. The key to not dying was to move slow and steady. At least, he hoped so.
And he had about a snowball’s chance in hell of getting this cat. The bloody beast had swatted at him earlier when he’d tried to pet it. Simon did the only thing he knew to do—he kept sidling toward the cat and talked to it man-to-man...er, man-to-cat, in a low croon.
“Okay, mate. Just hang tight. See, this is the deal. You might have nine lives, but I’ve only got one....”
“What?” Tawny asked.
He carefully turned his head in her direction. “Just talking to the cat. Give us a minute, okay? And no noise and sudden movement would be most appreciated.”
He looked back toward Peaches and pattered on. “Quite frankly, I think I’m too young to die, but even if I’m not, pavement-diving naked isn’t exactly the way I wanted to go. And who knows, you might’ve used up your lives already.”
The cat gave another hair-raising yowl. A whisper of a breeze chilled the sweat trickling between Simon’s shoulder blades.
“Listen, I’ve got a deal for you. Just hear me out. I pick you up, we go back in there and I swear I’ll get her to give you another name. Peaches... I might be out here, too, if I had to live with that. But on my honor, you’ll be renamed as soon as my bare butt climbs back through that window with you.”
Peaches flattened his ears. Te-bloody-rrific. That wasn’t a good sign.
Simon was almost there...just a few more inches...
“I’m going to step over you, you know, to get to the other side.”
Simon sucked in a deep breath. It was do or die and he didn’t like door number two. He raised his right foot and stepped over the cat, which left him straddling Peaches on the ledge, somewhat spread-eagled but at least he could hold on to the window frame and screen of Tawny’s next-door neighbor.
He glanced down at the cat. The cat looked up at Simon. Or, more specifically, parts of him. Peaches eyed Simon’s willy dangling in the wind with a wicked gleam in his kitty eyes, as if he’d just discovered a newfangled cat toy.
“Don’t even think about it.” Simon cupped a protective hand over Mr. Winky.
Suddenly an older woman appeared in the window.
“Pervert!” she yelled.
She yanked her window shade down, in his face.
Startled, Simon teetered. He dug his fingers into the window frame. Whoa!
Steady. Steady.
Only in New York.
He recentered and lifted his left foot over the cat. Whew! He unhanded the family jewels. Now for the really scary part—as if he hadn’t been scared witless up to this point.
“I’m going to pick you up in this towel. Here’s the tricky part. I need for you to be really still or I’m going to lose my balance and we’re both going to splat—not a good ending.”
He shifted the towel from his shoulder to his hands.
“Easy, there. Just remember, you get a new name. Something cool. Something macho. Something badass to go with your image.” While he talked, he leaned down and oh-so-carefully wrapped the cat in the towel. “Stay cool. We’re just a minute away from you having a new lease on life and me still having a life.”
Amazingly Peaches offered no resistence and didn’t squirm when he tucked him beneath his arm football-style. Simon had no idea how long it took—it felt like hours—but he continued to talk trash and edge toward Tawny’s window. Finally he handed the cat through the window. Tawny snatched The Cat Who’d Earned a New Name and clutched him to her. Simon used his free hand to grip the edge of the open window.
“Do you need help getting in?” Tawny asked.
“Just give me some room.” Simon climbed in feetfirst.
With solid flooring beneath him and the windowsill behind him, his knees began to shake. Being confined by four walls had never felt so good! He turned around, slammed the window closed and locked it. They’d roast like swine in hell before he opened that window again.
He turned around just as Peaches...er, Him...lost his patience for being
held, leaped out of Tawny’s arms and shot into the other room.
He still hadn’t recovered his breath when Tawny rounded on him, her eyes flashing, her hair sticking out at odd angles, as if she’d been in a brawl and it’d been nearly pulled out.
“That was the most stupid, idiotic thing I’ve ever seen,” she yelled.
Huh? “What the hell? How about a thank-you?”
“Thank you? Thank you?” Her voice escalated with each thank you, which he really hadn’t thought was possible. “I should thank you when you could’ve died out there, you idiot?” She flew at him and pummeled him on the chest. “You could’ve fallen. I was so scared. And you were naked. And you could’ve died.”
God, she was nearly hysterical over him. He caught her wrists and tried not to hurt her. “Shh. Shh. It’s okay. I’m okay. I’m fine. You’re fine. We’re fine.”
We? Where had that come from?
She leaned her head against his chest. He ran his hand soothingly over her hair. She reached up and wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him tighter, harder against her, as if she couldn’t get close enough. “Never do anything like that again. I’ve never been so scared in my life. If you’d fallen...”
Her mouth latched on to his and she kissed him with all the passion aroused by fear and anger. She ground her mouth against his, unleashing his own post-window-ledge adrenaline surge. She waged war with her tongue. He kissed her back as if he was devouring her.
Dammit. He could’ve died out there. He hadn’t been sure that he wouldn’t until he’d slammed the window closed behind him. But he hadn’t died and she was in his arms. And she cared, tremendously it would seem, that he’d risked his life.
They stumbled the few feet to the bed, both of them trying to eat the other alive. They fell to the mattress. This time Simon fished in the drawer for a condom, his hand shaking. He’d wanted her before, burned for her, dreamed of her, made love to her, but he’d never known anything like this—the overwhelming consuming need to bury himself so far and hard within her, to celebrate having come in off that ledge, to claim her.
While he put on the condom, she pulled off her panties and top and fell back, legs spread, sex glistening, ready.
“No. Roll over. On your knees.”
She stayed on her back but closed her legs, a mutinous expression on her face. Wrong direction.
“No. Not until you blow out all the candles,” she said.
She wasn’t exactly the most logical woman he’d ever met. “But you’re afraid of the dark.”
“I’m even more afraid of how big my butt is. And time’s wasting.” She reached out and wrapped her fingers around him and stroked.
Damn, it felt good, but he was made of sterner stuff than that.
He pulled away from her and dropped to his knees beside the bed. She eyed him with suspicion and a fair measure of frustration.
“I’m here to worship at the altar of your magnificent to-die-for bum. Why do you really think I crawled out on that ledge? For the cat? So that I could gaze into your green eyes afterward? So you could try to beat the bloody hell out of me when I completed my mission? Oh, no, luv. I climbed out there for this.” He stroked the curve of her magnificent bottom and sank his hands into her cheeks. She looked torn between laughing and smacking him, but luckily she still had that I-want-to-screw-your-brains-out glint in her eyes.
“I said it earlier, this—” he stroked the curve of her rear “—could bring men to their knees. See. I’m on my knees. And I’d like you on your knees, in as much light as possible so I can enjoy not just the feel and the taste but the sight of this fine masterpiece in action.”
He wasn’t giving up on this. Not only was every word true—he wanted to see her jiggle and wiggle while he pumped into her from behind—but he also wanted her to get over this self-consciousness, wanted her to realize her behind was a cause for celebration, not something to hide in the dark and make derogatory comments about.
He nuzzled the soft flesh in question. Fully convinced actions spoke louder than words, he devoted himself to showing her how much he appreciated her assets. He took his time kissing...licking...sucking his way across her sweet terrain. She rewarded him with low moans of appreciation, squirming against his mouth.
He was on fire for her—he did have a major attachment to her rear and the musky scent of her arousal was maddening, the moisture seeping between her nether lips.... He culled a taste of her sweet nectar with his tongue.
“Simon...”
He looked at her flushed face from his vantage point between her thighs.
“Would you really deny me something that would make me so happy?”
Panting, frantic, hot, she rolled over so quickly it took him by surprise. He got to his feet and she was already on her knees, legs spread, her rounded cheeks thrust in the air, her bare sex glistening a wet invitation.
“You’re driving me crazy. We’ll do it your way. But just do it.” She looked at him over her shoulder and slapped one full, luscious cheek. “If this is what you want, mount up and ride ’em, cowboy!”
Bloody right—he was a cowboy on a pilgrimage. Simon climbed on the bed behind her. He skimmed one finger between her cheeks. “I’ve approached the temple of the divine. May I enter?”
“Dammit, Simon. It’s just not right for you to make me laugh when you’ve made me so horny.”
He slid his condom-covered erection along her slick channel and rubbed it against her clit. “I’d like to offer up my sacrifice.”
She thrust back against him and he finished the job, plunging into her, his hands grasping her hips.
“Yessss,” she cried. “I’m happy. Are you happy now?”
She was hot and tight, and he settled into the rhythm of their ride and spoke while he was still capable of speech.
“No. I’m ecstatic.”
* * *
“You want me to do what? Forget it. I’m not doing it,” Tawny said and rolled to her back, huffing out her breath. Damnation, here she was feeling boneless and fabulous after really, really hot sex and now Simon had to go ruin it.
Simon rolled off the side of the bed, graceful, all leashed power and controlled muscles, and headed for the door. Annoyed with him or not, she’d be content to watch him walk around naked for a really long time—except he was walking out the door.
“Where are you going?” she asked.
“To get my camera.”
“You need your camera to discuss this?”
“No. I need my camera to catch what you look like in a pout. Remember, I’m supposed to be capturing the real you.”
“That was a jerk thing to say,” she yelled after him.
“Sorry.” Sorry, her well-ridden ass. He didn’t sound sorry a bit. “It’s my specialty,” he called from the other room.
“What? Photography or being a jerk?” she muttered to herself, thoroughly put out with him.
“I heard that.” He reappeared in the door, wearing his jeans but shirtless, camera around his neck. “Both.”
“I’ll second that.”
He approached the bed, the camera whirring. She tossed him a disgusted, haughty look, stuck her nose in the air and looked the other way.
“Perfect. Tawny in a sulk.”
She whipped her head back around. “I am not in a sulk.”
“Really? What would you call it?”
“Pissed. I’m pissed. You had no right to promise my cat I’d change his name. I love his name. You want to name a pet, go get one yourself,” she said.
She could give a rat’s patootie if she sounded rude. All her life she’d been told what to do, when to do it, how to do it. Finally she was on her own and she’d be damned if anyone—regardless how good he looked naked or how thoroughly he satisfied her in bed—was arbitrarily renaming her cat. Peaches was the first thing she’d ever had on her own that was all hers. Simon could stuff it.
“I was desperate. It was the only thing I could think of out there. And I gave him my
word.”
“Well, you should’ve checked with me first.”
“What? I should’ve conducted negotiations from the window ledge, where I just happened to be hanging out naked?”
“There’s no need for sarcasm, Simon.”
“There’s no need for irrationality, Tawny.”
She would let that comment pass, ’cause the other option was to kill him. And to think she’d actually begun to like him. Ugh. He infuriated her.
“Did I ask you to go out there? No! In fact, I told you not to.”
“You really thought I’d let you go out there?”
Tawny couldn’t recall ever sputtering before in her life, ever being so spitting mad she couldn’t verbally express herself. Not even that lifetime ago when she’d found out Elliott had swung to the other side.
“Uh...uh...you...you...absolute macho...do you think just because you’re a man that you’re braver?”
“Brave?” He threw back his head and laughed, but it didn’t sound as if he was particularly amused. “Bravery had nothing to do with it. I was so bloody scared I couldn’t see straight out there. And you can hang up the macho thing because Mr. Macho wouldn’t admit that.”
“And I’m irrational? Ha! If you were scared, why didn’t you just let me go?”
“Because I couldn’t... It just seemed like the thing to do.”
He walked out of the bedroom. Typical male to just walk away in the middle of a conversation that wasn’t going his way.
Tawny yanked on her panties and tank top and marched down the hall after him.
“Well, there’s an explanation. That really clears it up for me. Thank you,” she said.
“Can’t you ever just drop anything?” Simon sat on the couch.
If he thought he could get rid of her or shut her up by holing up in this claustrophobic little den...well, he was wrong. She plopped down on the other end of the sofa.
“No, Simon, I can’t. So shoot me if I like a little logic in my life.”
“Righto! You’re not exactly the most logical woman I ever met.”
He must be kidding! “That’s rich—especially coming from a man who climbed out naked on a window ledge and promised to change my cat’s name—without my permission, I might add—because it seemed like the thing to do. Oh, yeah. You’re the king of logic.”
Northern Rebel: Daring in the Dark Page 28