Exposed to Passion (Five Senses series Book 3)

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Exposed to Passion (Five Senses series Book 3) Page 9

by Gemma Brocato


  Rising up on one elbow, he touched the silk of her hair where it tumbled over the pillow. She’d closed her eyes and lay face toward the ceiling, a sexy half-smile on her lips. He slowly twined a satiny strand around his index finger until his hand rested against her scalp. Her eyes fluttered open when he applied light pressure, turning her gaze toward him. He’d put that satisfied smile on her lips. Pressing his mouth to hers, he lifted his body, pleased at the small squeak of protest she released while clinging to his lips, mimicking her body’s attempt to bar his withdrawal.

  Smiling, he rolled to her side, pressed another kiss against her shoulder, and reached down to remove the condom.

  Cold dread invaded his soul.

  “Aw, shit.”

  “Ha, that’s not the first time I’ve heard that after sex. But usually it’s followed by ‘that was amazing.’” Rikki laughed, her amused eyes sparkling in the low light of the bedroom.

  Sam sat up and scooted away from her, fighting for calm. Her gaze turned questioning at what had to be a look of sheer horror on his face. He gestured toward his lap. “No, I mean, aw, shit—the condom broke. Jesus Christ, Rikki, I’m sorry. Oh, fuck.”

  She bolted upright in the bed next to him, clutching the sheet against her magnificent breasts, breathing hard. “You’re kidding, right? Oh, dammit! You’re not.”

  She frowned and counted on her fingers, her lips moving silently and her eyes shifting from side to side as she did some rapid mental calculations. Holding his breath, he stripped of the ruptured condom and waited for her next words. The quiet ticking of the clock on the bureau rang like a claxon in his ears, time spinning away from him.

  This is what happens when you rush a woman to bed, you knucklehead. You should have kept it in your pants and wooed her like you want her to be your girlfriend, not just a friend with benefits.

  The shocker was he really did want more from her. She was smart, talented, and funny. The trifecta of what revved his motor.

  Rikki’s brow lowered in concentration and she puffed out a breath. She sucked her lower lip in between her teeth. And damn if that didn’t shoot heat and steel straight to his cock, melting away the scary idea that she could be pregnant. It didn’t matter when the only thoughts in his head were governed by his overwhelming need to bury himself deeply in her once again. Raising her eyes, she met his gaze, hesitation dancing across her face.

  “I think we’re okay. I’m certain this wasn’t a bad time for that little catastrophe. But, um…as wonderful as this was,” she said, making a wry face and gesturing to his lap, “I’m pretty sure we should stick a fork in it and call it done. We shouldn’t tempt fate.”

  Sam couldn’t hide the shudder that tripped through him with her words. “You’re probably right. But it was great, wasn’t it? We’re pretty amazing together.”

  She grinned. “That we are. And I’m going to demand a repeat performance. But after I call a doctor and take care of…things.”

  She tucked the sheet around her modestly and stood, leaving Sam completely exposed. The sound of her sigh while she boldly eyed his body puffed up his chest and drained blood from his brain, diverting it much lower in his anatomy. Her low chuckle as she retreated to the bathroom, clutching the colorful floral sheet, raised goose bumps on his flesh. She already had his heart twined around her little finger.

  The bathroom door clicked shut. He fluffed up her pillows against the headboard and flopped back, staring at the ceiling. It amazed him that he was so at home in her bed.

  The shower turned on and she opened the door wide enough to toss the sheet back toward the bed, the cool cotton hitting him square in the chest. She lingered in the doorway, stunning in her naked glory. “Hey, Sam? I’m starving. Would you order us some Chinese food while I’m in the shower? I’ll only be about ten minutes.”

  “Are you sure you don’t want help washing your…back?”

  He shot a dirty old man leer her direction and was gratified when she burst into laughter.

  “That sounds wonderful, but not tonight, dear. One scare a day is all I allow myself.”

  “Killjoy.”

  She was still laughing when the door between them clicked shut.

  Sitting up, he caught sight of his cheesy, ear-to-ear grin in the mirror across the room. He rolled off the bed and grabbed his jeans. He paused to recall if he had ever felt this comfortable with a new lover. His grin faded, then flared back to life as he combed his fingers through his hair. Except for the broken condom thing, this was easily the most relaxed he’d ever been.

  After ordering enough food for six people, he stood and pulled his jeans and T-shirt back on. Leaving his feet bare, he walked toward the bedroom door, pausing briefly when Rikki started singing a Florida Georgia Line song. Her off-key alto voice floated out over the shower sounds.

  She liked country music. He was toast for sure.

  Twenty minutes later, he handed the delivery guy enough money to cover the order and a generous tip. Rikki emerged from the bedroom, wet hair hanging down her back, dressed in faded, ripped blue jeans with a cherry red T-shirt skimming the top of her hips. Red was definitely her color.

  Sam met her at the entry to the kitchen, motioning for her to go ahead of him, and was surprised when she paused in the door and put a finger to his cheek. Her lips parted, the pulse pounding in her neck while she traced the line of his dimple. She held his gaze with hers, heated and intense, and continued to explore his cheek with her fingertip.

  On impulse, he turned his face and captured the soft fingertip between his lips and sucked it into his mouth. Hands down, her sharp, low gasp was the sexiest sound he’d ever heard. He let her finger escape from his mouth with a gentle pop and wrapped his arms, eggrolls, fried rice, and all, around her shoulders, pulling her close. After he’d worshipped her lips for a long moment, he leaned back and cleared his throat.

  “Um…so do you want to eat in the kitchen, or take it back to the bedroom? I know what I’m voting for.”

  That made her laugh, as he was certain it would. “You are incorrigible, aren’t you?”

  “Let’s just call me insatiable.”

  “Is this a big word contest?”

  “Hey, I’m a high school teacher. I can pull out my massive vocabulary when necessary.”

  Rikki laughed, the sparkling sound weaving through his brain, delighting him. “As long it’s the only massive thing you pull out for the rest of the evening, we’ll be okay.”

  He threw his head back and barked out a laugh. It was damn good to share this lighthearted, goofy conversation with her. He was a goner, and didn’t mind one little bit. He wanted this woman in and out of bed.

  She pushed at his chest, making him step back, then turned and sashayed into the kitchen. Watching her hips sway was a unique combination of pleasure and torture for him. After a stop by a small desk to flip on the radio sitting there, she went to the cabinet next to the sink. Soft music rose above the clatter of the plates she pulled out. Grabbing forks from the drawer, she shut it with her butt and boot-scooted over to the table.

  Giving himself a mental shake, Sam shoved away from the door, following her to the table. He put the white sacks down and pulled out little buckets of food while she set out plates and napkins.

  “Jeez, Sam. What army did you think you were feeding?”

  “You said you were hungry. I worked up an appetite and I figured yours might match it.” He shot her a grin and was gratified when a heated, hungry look slipped into her eyes. “I ordered a little of everything, since I’m not sure what you like.”

  “I like you,” she said simply.

  “I like you, too.”

  He crumpled the take-out bag and let his gaze rove over her from head to toe, enjoying the view when she leaned over the table to toss a napkin next to the plate. Her T-shirt rose with the motion, exposing the long, sleek muscles of her hips and waist. Reaching out, he traced the thin line of soft-as-silk flesh revealed between her shirt and pants. The song Rikki
had sung in the shower was playing on the radio, the peppy music the only noise in the room.

  Shifting to relieve some of the sudden tightness in his jeans, Sam leaned against a chair and crossed one ankle over the other, a deceptively easy posture, considering the tense state of his lower body.

  He cleared his throat. “And you like country music, too, if your serenade in the shower was anything to judge by.”

  Pink flooded into her cheeks and she checked her motion. “Oh, my God, you heard that? I’m so sorry. My brother always tells me I can’t carry a tune in a bucket. The shower is as safe a place as any to sing, since I don’t usually have company while I’m in there.”

  Chagrin roared through his mind. Dumbass. You embarrassed her. “Technically, you didn’t have company in there today. But there’s no need to be sorry. I thought it was great. You have a talent.” He tried to return the conversation to the comfortable banter they’d been enjoying before he’d opened his stupid mouth.

  She laughed. “Sam, you lack the poker face necessary to be a good liar. My only talent as far as singing goes is making cats yowl. But you’re a good sport for trying to make me feel better.”

  Great, they were back. “Rikki, honey, almost anything you do is going to be okay by me. As long as you don’t lie about it. I hate to be lied to.” He turned toward the trashcan and tossed the crumpled food sack into it.

  When he turned back, she’d stiffened, as though uncomfortable with the path of the conversation. She trained her eyes on the table for a moment and avoided looking at him. Without saying a word, she straightened and walked to the refrigerator to open the door.

  Sam took the opportunity to ogle the way the soft denim outlined her sweet butt when she bent and reached in.

  She stood and held up a bottle, tipping it his direction in question. “You want a beer?” Her smile didn’t reach her eyes.

  Sam had been distracted by the sight of the skin at her waist and the rocking view of her ass. But along the way, he’d said something to annoy her. He replayed the conversation and could only come up with his white lie about her singing. “Hey, I really don’t mind off-key singing. I wasn’t lying about enjoying hearing it. I just wish I’d been in the shower with you.”

  “Actually, that would have been nice.”

  “Maybe next time? And, yeah, I would like a beer.”

  She bent, retrieved another and gestured to the table. “Let’s eat.”

  Handing Sam both bottles to open, she took the seat facing the door to the mudroom, leaving the chair with the view of the living room for Sam. He twisted the caps off and tossed them onto the table, then settled himself, sliding down to rest on his tailbone. He relaxed, enjoying the view of Rikki’s neck as she tipped her head back and swallowed a long slug of her beer. Man, she was some kind of wonderful. The quiet domesticity of the moment walked up his spine with calm assurance and snuggled up against his heart like a blanket, warmed by the sun.

  He marveled at the moment; they were still basically strangers, but the connection between them was strong, deeper than with anyone else outside of his family.

  They ate quietly for a few minutes accompanied by soft country music, enjoying an easy camaraderie. Sam reached for an eggroll at the same time as Rikki, their chopsticks clicking together in a minor skirmish. He won the battle, but instead of putting it on his plate, he deposited it on hers. Dropping his chopsticks, he leaned back in his chair, rubbing his belly.

  “What was in the crate?” he asked as she dipped the roll in mustard sauce.

  Twisting around in her chair, she glanced into the living room, a grimace pulling the corners of her mouth down. “A portable darkroom. Silas’s idea of a gift.”

  “That’s a pretty expensive gift. Those things run like close to five grand, don’t they?”

  She nodded. “His position is that a real photographer shouldn’t digitally manipulate the composition of a picture. An artist should capture the true image on film, not on computer, for Gud’s skull.” She finished in Swedish, and Sam laughed.

  “Does anyone make film anymore? I don’t think you can find it in the stores. And the chemicals to develop film can be expensive.” He scrubbed a hand over his chin, the stubble making a soft rasping noise. “It’s a dying art, which is too bad. The high school doesn’t even have a darkroom any more. We remodeled the wing we were in a couple of years ago to create more lab space for physical science and the builder reclaimed the studio for a custodian’s closet. I don’t think any of the kids in the photo club even know how to load film into a camera, let alone develop it. It’s gone the way of the cassette tape.”

  “I’m not sure that’s a bad thing,” she said. “Speaking of your photo club… I ran into a couple of your students at the market today. Katie and Suzannah.”

  “They were together?” Sam’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Those two are kind of oil and water. They don’t mix.”

  “From what appeared to be happening when I walked up, I’d say the meeting was accidental. Suzannah, a girl named Alyson, and her mother—I think her name was Sherry—had clearly stumbled upon Katie. It wasn’t going well for her.”

  “Sherry allowed the girls to harass Katie?” He leaned forward in his chair, fighting his rising annoyance. He muttered several choice words under his breath.

  Rikki’s delicate eyebrows drew together in a frown. “The mom? I think she egged the girls on. I can’t believe an adult, a parent no less, would condone that behavior, let alone participate in it. What the hell is wrong with people these days?”

  He grunted. “Sherry’s a piece of work. Ever since she got a divorce, she’s been on the lookout for husband number two, and I’m afraid I’m her favorite choice.”

  “Good Lord, she’s got to be twenty years older than you!”

  “I don’t think that makes a difference to her. Her mental age is closer to her daughter’s than her own.”

  A speculative gleam lit Rikki’s eyes. “Hmm, that explains why she looked damn near constipated when I mentioned I was going on the astro painting trip with you. She was jealous.”

  “And probably pretty pissed off. I bet she and the girls turned up the heat on Katie after that.”

  “They tried, but I asked Katie if I could talk to her a minute and dragged her away.”

  “Thank you for that.”

  “From what I can tell, Katie’s far more mature than Sherry. That bitch mooed as I walked away. Like that’s never happened to me.”

  “What the…” Sam trailed off, thinking he’d heard wrong. But the earnest look of disgust on Rikki’s face convinced him he hadn’t. “What the hell was that about?”

  Rikki gestured to her chest with a self-deprecating smile. “Ever since I hit puberty, mean girls have found a way to compare my breasts to the udders of a cow.”

  “Jesus Christ! That’s harsh. And Sherry Hillman did that?” Sam’s voice shot up in incredulity. He cleared his throat and continued. “God, that woman is a good example of a bad example. What did you say?”

  “Not much to say. But I did make sure she knew I knew she’d done it.”

  An uncomfortable pang bloomed in Sam’s chest. He hated bullies of any kind and it sounded like Rikki had dealt with more than her fair share. “You’ve lived with shit like that all your life?”

  “Yep,” she said, a broad grin breaking out on her face. God, she was smiling about it. Sam’s admiration for her kicked up a notch. “It hurt when I was younger. The boys just wanted to get their hands on them, and the girls were jealous. It took a while to overcome the embarrassment—years, really, of being the butt of suggestive comments, leers and accidental touches.” A shudder shook her shoulders. Even full-grown men had considered her fair game. “Back then, it wasn’t so great. But now, I know I’m more than just a couple of oversized breasts.”

  That was an understatement. Sure, she was built like a brick house, but she was more than just the sum of her parts. “I’m so sorry.”

  Rikki jumped up and
started clearing the table, as though uncomfortable with his concern. “Don’t be. Karma is a bitch. I’ve made a success of my career while the girls who made fun of me are stuck with the boys who will always want to get their hands on some other woman’s body. Just like Katie will ultimately get satisfaction, too.”

  “Do you think I should be concerned about Katie becoming unhinged, or retaliating? She doesn’t seem likely to go all Virginia Tech on us. But no one thought that shooter would, either.”

  She put the dishes in the sink and leaned against the counter. “I don’t think so. She said her revenge was going to be when she went away to college and made something of herself, while her tormentors were stuck in a small town raising the babies they have before high school graduation.”

  “Katie has a good head on her shoulders.” Sam shifted in his chair, leaning forward and resting his elbows on the table. “In fact, she’d probably be a great choice for your exhibit intern.”

  “I already thought of that. She’s starting next week. I told her if she did a good job, I’d write her a letter of recommendation she could use to find another job, and maybe for college admissions. I have a little pull at the University of Maine. I might be able to help her swing a scholarship if she wants.”

  He liked her style. Rikki knew what she wanted and went for it. “Are you prone to snap decisions?” he asked with a grin.

  Her eyes smoldered like liquid smoke and her grin turned sultry. “Only when it’s something I really, really want. Like sleeping with you. That was a pretty quick decision. One I’d make again in a heartbeat.”

  She walked back to his side and slid her fingers through his hair, pulling his head back until he looked her in the eyes. Desire flared like a camera flash in his head, bright and insistent when she lowered her lips toward his. He pulled her onto his lap and claimed her mouth, nibbling her lips, then deepening the kiss to stroke his tongue across hers. She ground herself against his groin, spearing heat through his system, forging him into steel under her bottom. He couldn’t stop his groan from escaping any more than he could stop the blood from rushing from his brain to his cock.

 

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