“You had no right.” Her voice was softer, more vulnerable than she had meant for it to sound.
“What difference does it make if it was Blayne or me who gave you the massage? Are you and Blayne best buddies? No, I believe you just met him today, did you not? At least I’m a neighbor and friend.” The mischievous glint in his eyes only increased her ire. How dare he use logic to discount her outrage and humiliation?
“It makes a difference to me!” Unintentionally, she raised her voice and instantly regretted it as the triumph lit his eyes and the knowing smile curved his sexy lips.
He calmly picked up a towel and began wiping away the oil from his hands, one finger at a time. She held the sheet tighter between her breasts. Delicious sensations speared through her as she crushed them closer to her body with her forearms, her nipples stubbornly refusing to relax. Her mind was filled with the erotic images of all her fantasies. She wanted nothing more at that moment than to fling the sheet aside and wrap herself around him. Instead, she forced herself back into reality, cleared her throat and said with as much dignity as she could muster, “What is it with you anyway? What do you want from me?”
Her breath caught in her throat as he met her gaze. The wicked smile faded from his lips as his jaw tightened. He tossed the towel on the table and purposefully walked around it toward her. She took another step back and found herself against a wall. He stood so close she could feel the heat radiate from his body. She fought against the impulse to grab his shirt and pull him against her body. Silently he waited until she finally got the nerve to lift her head and look up into his eyes.
“I want your eyes.” He spoke barely above a whisper—hoarse, deep, hungry. Dark eyes looked through her before lowering to her lips. “I want your mouth.” A shiver danced over her as his fingers brushed her cheek. “Your skin, the taste of your desire on my tongue, the sound of your pleasure playing like a song over and over again in my mind.”
Instantly self-conscious, she bit her lip. Yes, her body was tighter than it had been but still her breasts were large and heavy, her hips too wide, her stomach too rounded. There wasn’t much remarkable about her face either in her opinion. It wasn’t that she wasn’t attractive; she was, in a very understated kind of way. She just wasn’t the kind of woman a man like Lucas typically wanted. And he was the polar opposite of Brent. Everything in her screamed to get a clue, take a chance. But, this couldn’t be real, it couldn’t be happening. He didn’t want her. He couldn’t want her. If his interest in her was a cruel joke and he laughed in her face afterward it would be too much to deal with now. No, she was just beginning to heal.
“I can’t,” she whispered.
“Yes. You can.” The way his eyes unabashedly roamed over her was driving her crazy.
She could feel the heat crawl up her neck and knew her cheeks were probably splotchy. He stepped closer, and she grappled for an escape. “I’m…I don’t…”
“Don’t lie, Jaimee.” He groaned as he pulled her close, his mouth descending on hers. Gently at first, just a soft nip. Then his eyes met hers as he tilted his head and kissed her, his tongue teasing her lips, urging them apart. Her heart stopped, her breath caught. Unable to resist the intoxicating taste of him and the raw emotion coursing through her, she leaned in, opening to him. All she cared about at that moment was the feel of his lips firmly moving over hers, demanding, his tongue caressing the tender interior of her mouth.
All she could do was feel. Every ounce of common sense faded as she clutched at his shoulders. His hand moved up along her side to cup the side of her breast, his thumb found her hardened nipple. The whimper that escaped her throat sounded tortured. All that separated her body from his hands was the flimsy sheet. His lips left hers and traveled over her jaw to nip at the sensitive skin beneath her ear. One long muscled thigh pushed between her own, rubbing against her throbbing pussy.
She could feel the rock-hard bulge behind the zipper of his jeans. That had to be real. He couldn’t fake that, right? His free hand smoothed over her ass, pulling her tighter against his straining shaft. Oh God, she couldn’t resist him. Her thoughts were spinning out of control.
It was just a kiss but so incredibly powerful. His hands molded and kneaded her breasts, and she trembled as his mouth devoured her throat. Biting her lip to keep from crying out, she struggled for breath. It was too intense, too much, she was losing her mind, her will.
One hand smoothed over the sheet, down her stomach, between her thighs to touch her throbbing flesh. “You’re burning, Jaimee. So hot. Wet,” he rasped against her neck, then bit as he stroked deeper as if the now-soaked sheet wasn’t a barrier at all. “Open for me.”
His finger, covered with the wet material, grazed over her engorged clit and Jaimee came apart. Her legs went weak and she clung to him as if her life depended on it. Though she tried to keep it down, a groan from deep inside tore from her as she rode his hand. She couldn’t breathe and she didn’t care. Rapid-fire waves of sensation shot through her, ensnaring her in the power of her orgasm.
Without giving her a chance to regain her sanity, Lucas lifted her and carried her to set her on the massage table. His body was so hot, on fire against hers, his breath rapid as he kissed her hard, sucking her bottom lip between his teeth. With purpose and urgency he moved, his hand fisted in the sheet to pull it away.
It was now or never. She had to stop, had to. “No.” The word was barely audible above the roar of her blood pounding through her veins. God, she didn’t want him to stop, she wanted him to fuck her, drive into her without mercy. The fact that she wanted the pain frightened her. She’d come so easily at his touch. So easy. With vivid clarity she realized just how easy she was being. If she took him, gave in to what her body so desperately screamed for, would she be able to deal with it when he walked away? No, she couldn’t deal with that. Not now, not yet. She pushed at him.
“Please stop.”
She tasted like cinnamon and desire. He had only meant for it to be a soft kiss on her lush mouth, just to show her he meant what he said. In the process he was swept away by her spontaneous response, ravenous to taste more of her. That, in combination with having his hands on her supple body just moments ago, was driving him mad. Now her mouth was so warm, so inviting. Her nipples strained against his chest, firm, plump, begging to be sucked and everything in him wanted to oblige them. He wanted to give her pleasure, more pleasure. She needed it. Almost as bad as he needed to be the one to give it to her.
Lucas reluctantly raised his head as he struggled to control his raging need. Jaimee rolled her swollen lips inward as she looked up at him, her desperate eyes dilated with need. She pushed him. He wanted more, wanted to give her more and her body was so open, so supple, wet and ready for him. But the fear in her eyes had him resisting the urge to hold on to her. Dropping his hands, he stepped back. She clutched the sheet against her and hopped down from the massage table. She quickly put distance between them and stood with her back against the door to the adjoining dressing room.
“I’m sorry,” she panted, her voice husky. “I can’t do this.”
“Yes, you can.”
Frowning, she lifted that stubborn chin and squared her shoulders. His cock jerked in response. Go ahead, challenge me, baby.
“I won’t,” she said with the determination of a line backer.
If she knew how much restraint he was exerting she wouldn’t be so bold as to dare him like that. Or would she? She was breathtaking standing there looking like a sexy nymph with her cheeks flushed rosy with arousal, her lips swollen from his kisses, her lush body draped in the damp white sheet she clutched above her breasts. It took a moment before he realized his cell phone was ringing. Reality flooded in with a vengeance and he clenched his teeth. Caller ID told him it was the case agent, Michael Butler. Shit. For the first time in his career he wasn’t stalwartly focused on his job. All he had on his mind was Jaimee and his all-consuming need for her. He let his gaze travel her body, memorizing the w
ay she looked, and narrowed his eyes.
“You will, Jaimee. We aren’t finished. Not by a long shot.”
Her eyes widened, only a fraction, but he noticed it before he turned away from her and walked out the door. Attraction was one thing. What he was feeling for Jaimee was a great deal more powerful. Damn, he was in trouble.
Chapter Nine
Still in shock, Jaimee leaned against the door of the dressing room and touched her swollen mouth. Never had she been kissed that way, ever. Memories of Brent flashed through her mind like an angry accuser. She remembered the passionless way Brent had pressed his lips to hers, awkwardly shifting them in a sad parody of a kiss. Finally she’d convinced herself it was okay. She clenched her teeth, stamped down on the rush of pain, frustration and anger and blinked back the tears. It was okay. How he kissed shouldn’t matter, didn’t matter. Their marriage had been based on stronger stuff: solid devotion, admiration and respect. And love, of course love. There were many who had pretty good marriages based on much less.
By the time she was showered and dressed she was a bit less shaky, but she couldn’t forget the feel of Lucas’s touch, his mouth on hers. Her imagination went wild at the memory of his tongue caressing her lips, her neck. She’d been so wet, his hands gliding over her body sent her senses spiraling out of control. Had she ever had an orgasm that powerful before? If she had she couldn’t remember it. Not like that. And he’d only touched her. Even now her body eagerly responded.
Guilt added a whisper of bitterness to the emotions overwhelming her. The last three years of marriage she and Brent barely touched at all, and he had never touched her so unabashedly. Lucas’s desire had swept her away, overwhelmed her. What took her breath away more than anything else was the fact that Lucas wanted her so badly. No man, not even Brent, had ever been that passionate for her. Not ever.
Maxine was about to explode with curiosity by the time they got to her car. Thankfully, she didn’t see Lucas or Blayne when they left the gym. While Maxine listened intently, beyond intrigued, Jaimee recounted everything that had happened.
“I can’t believe you could stop him.” Max spoke softly as she tried to concentrate on the road in front of her. “I mean if it was good, James…”
“It’s confusing.” Jaimee sighed. “It was spontaneous, like a flash fire out of control. It was never like that with Brent. I guess I was afraid,” she admitted. “And, Maxine, I don’t do that. There was no one before Brent. I can’t just have sex because it feels good.”
“So now you feel guilty.”
“Yes. I do.”
“I guess I can understand that.”
Completely taken aback, Jaimee stared at Max, her mouth agape. “You do?”
“Well, yeah. I mean I don’t think you have anything to feel guilty about. But I understand why you, Jaimee Turner, would feel that way…on several levels,” Max answered. Jaimee continued to watch her friend in astonishment. Max kept her eyes on the road ahead and chewed on the inside of her cheek. That was never a good sign; it meant Max was considering, contemplating.
“Okay, what are you thinking?” Jaimee finally asked.
“You need to get out,” Max said matter-of-factly as she turned into Jaimee’s drive.
“I am getting out. We go out every weekend,” Jaimee countered. “And what does that have to do with anything?”
“No, girl, we go out for lunch or dinner, hang out at the book store, go shopping. I mean you need to go owwt.”
Jaimee’s brow knitted together in confusion. “I don’t think I follow.”
Max shook her head. “Let’s go in. I need to see what I have to work with.” She sighed with exasperation as she got out of the car.
“Huh?” Max didn’t answer, she just went up and stood impatiently, tapping a foot at the front door. Feeling completely out of control of the situation, Jaimee followed, unlocked the door and stepped aside to let Max in. She was obviously a woman on a mission. Without hesitation Max walked down the hall, turned on her heel and took the steps two at a time.
Yep, she was on a mission. “Hmmm, guess I’ll just get some coffee,” Jaimee said to herself as she turned into the kitchen.
Maxine had been Jaimee’s best friend for at least five years and over those five years Jaimee had learned that it was best to just let Maxine run with whatever scheme she had concocted. She’d never really pushed the envelope enough to have Jaimee putting her foot down. Max had to have her hands in everything and if she suspected there might be something wrong in Jaimee’s life Max set out to right it…on her own terms.
Normally it didn’t bother Jaimee so much. She’d just smile and nod and say “Yeah, you’re right, Max,” then just do what she wanted to do in the first place. But this time she wasn’t sure Max would let her get away with her usual passive aggressiveness.
“Max?” she called out as she reached the top of the steps with two cups of coffee.
“In here,” Max answered from Jaimee’s bedroom.
She found Max standing in her closet going through her clothes. “Hon, nothing I have is gonna fit you.”
“Nothing you have is gonna fit you.”
“They fit.”
“Yeah, like sacks.”
Setting the cups down on the dresser, Jaimee snorted. “I haven’t lost that much weight, Max.”
“Inches, it’s all about the inches. You need some party clothes. As soon as I get back from this damn business trip we’re going shopping,” Max continued.
That unflinching determination of hers made Jaimee want to cringe. Oh man, she was working a plan this time.
“What are you up to?” she asked with a sigh.
“I’m trying to find something to dress you up in. We’re going out.”
“Max, I have papers to grade and lesson plans to make…”
Max rolled her eyes and threw her hands up in disgust. “Okay, all right, fine. You don’t have anything decent to wear out anyway. As soon as I get back from New York…” She narrowed her eyes. “You better have your work done at school ’cause that excuse won’t work twice.”
“I’m not the goin’-to-the-club-dancin’-and-partyin’ type.” Jaimee shrugged. “I don’t know why you insist on me going.”
Max took a drink of her cooling coffee. “Because, sweetheart, you don’t know what you like. Hell, you don’t even know what type you are because you don’t know who you are.”
“Oh please, I’m thirty-two years old. Don’t you think it’s a little late for me to try and ‘find myself’?” Jaimee laughed.
Max’s expression remained stoic. “Yeah, I do, but since you haven’t as of yet, better late than never.”
“Come on. It’s silly, ridiculous…” Jaimee paused, trying to find the right words, “…immature and self-absorbed.”
Arching a brow, Max pursed her lips. “And what’s wrong with that?”
Jaimee opened her mouth to say something but had no idea what.
Max smiled and hugged her tightly. “I’m gonna run. I’ll drop the cup off in the kitchen.” Without so much as a pause or a look back she walked out the door, wiggling her fingers in farewell. “I’ll call you when I get home. Love ya.”
The quick conversation with Butler left Lucas tense.
“We intercepted a call from Zachary to Marshall. Turner had incriminating evidence on file. You have to get inside…hack into her PC. You’re looking for a disk…probably a CD but don’t rule out a floppy or a flash drive…”
Edward Zachary, an exceedingly charismatic man, oozed with power. Men admired and respected him as a brilliant businessman and women from all walks of life desired him. It didn’t matter much that he owed his good looks to a talented plastic surgeon or that his rumored virility and incredible stamina came from a little blue pill. He owned way too many people, which allowed him to control the whole organization. There were no lengths he wouldn’t go to in order to keep it secure. It would only intensify his fury to know a dumpy little peon like Turner had the power to
bring him down.
Absently, Lucas poured a cup of coffee. It bugged him that Zachary would have let his anger get the better of him though. Why did he have Turner killed before he secured the disk unless he didn’t know about the disk? That was highly unlikely. Turner was probably fool enough to threaten him with it. Which was why he was dead. The question was, was Zachary fool enough to believe Turner was stupid enough to have the disk with him? Taking his mug, he went into the office and sat down at the desk.
“…You’re going to have to turn up the heat, Grayson. Move in, get closer… She’s in danger…”
Jaimee was a target now more than ever. It wasn’t like it was the first time he had to “get closer” to a woman in order to do his job. However, no woman had ever affected him like Jaimee did. The thought of someone doing anything to hurt her made his chest tighten and his blood boil. It made him crazy when she talked about Turner, about how much she loved him, how much she believed in him and his love for her. She constantly made excuses for him. Yeah, he’d move in and get closer. He wanted her closer in a way that had nothing to do with the job. He wanted her. For his own, possibly, forever.
There was amazing strength in Jaimee that drew him, a question in her incredibly guileless crystal blue eyes that made him want to be the answer. Getting closer to her wouldn’t be a problem for him. It was what happened when all this was over and done with that would be the problem. When she learned the truth about her husband it would break her heart, tear her apart, leave her with nothing but seven years of lies. But that wouldn’t be all.
After he worked to break down her walls, win her trust, her faith, possibly make her believe she could be loved again, she would think he was no better than Turner. She would believe it was all a lie. When she found out who he was, what he’d been doing, there was no way he’d make her believe it wasn’t just his assignment. She would hate him. To her very core she would hate him. Nothing he would say could change that.
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