by Lauren Layne
His eyes flickered. “Heather—”
She leaned forward and pressed her mouth to the V of his throat, teeth scraping against his warm skin before she soothed it with her tongue.
His breath hitched even as he lifted his hands to her head as though to pull her away, and in a last-ditch effort to persuade him otherwise, she tilted her hips forward, rubbing rather shamelessly against the unmistakable bulge of his erection. But she didn’t care. Now that she’d had a taste of him, she knew she wanted—no, needed—to see this through, even if it was only for tonight.
His body went still as his fingers tangled in her hair. “You seducing me, 4C?”
“Is it working?”
His breath was hot against her cheek. “I want you. Obviously. But—”
“No but,” she said quickly, lifting her head and brushing her mouth against his. “We don’t have to make a thing of it. It can just be sex.”
His eyes flickered in doubt, and she lifted her eyebrows in challenge. “Unless, of course, you’re in danger of falling madly in love with me. It’s okay if you are, it happens.”
She smiled in response as she met his eyes. “Oh, that’s not what you’re worried about, is it? It’s my poor little heart you think is at risk.”
Josh winced. “It sounds so condescending when you say it like that.”
Her eyebrows lifted. “It does, doesn’t it?”
He opened his mouth, and she rested her fingers lightly against his lips. “Josh. Hear me out. I like you. You like me. We’re friends. We’re neighbors. But with all due respect, I’m way too smart to fall in love with you.”
He smiled. “Should I be insulted?”
“How about you just be naked instead? I’m getting impatient.”
“Will you hate yourself tomorrow morning? Or me?”
“No. Not once I’ve had my coffee,” she retorted.
Josh’s laugh was swift and genuine. “Well, you were right about one thing, 4C. I do like you.”
“I know,” she said before she pulled his mouth down to hers once more. “But Josh. No more talking. Tonight I don’t want to be bickering Josh and Heather, I want to be—I want—”
Josh’s mouth brushed softly over hers. “I know. I want, too. Heather.”
Heather. Not 4C.
His kiss was gentle as he coaxed her lips open, his mouth making love to hers in sweet, hot caresses, his tongue lingering and seductive.
In the very back of her mind she knew that he’d kissed dozens of women. Perhaps even more. But tonight he was kissing her, and it felt . . . significant.
His hands slid up her sides, reminding her of her naughty dreams, and she smiled. He pulled back. “Tickle?”
She shook her head. “No. Just really, really good.”
They undressed each other in leisurely, slow movements, taking time to explore every inch of skin revealed.
She gave back as good as she got, her fingers making quick work of the remainder of his buttons as she shoved the dress shirt over his shoulders and down his arms.
Heather froze a little in nervousness when he tugged her upward to unsnap the back of her bra, and he stilled. “Want me to stop?”
Her eyes closed. “I’m not good at this like you are.”
Josh pulled back slightly, touching a knuckle to her lip. “Trust me. It’s already very, very good because it’s you.”
Her eyes closed and her breath caught.
It was the right thing to say as he’d likely known it was. This time when he reached for her bra, she didn’t freeze. And when his palms came around to cup her, she arched into him, biting her lip as his thumbs brushed over the sensitive peaks. He smiled at her whimper as his fingers continued their slow perusal, circling and flicking until her nipples were hard and begging.
“You like that,” he whispered.
She nodded.
“Me too,” he whispered. He dipped his knees so his mouth was even with her breasts, and her breathing quickened in anticipation.
But his touch didn’t come.
Wild with need, she glanced down, saw him watching her. Only when their eyes met did he give her what she needed, his mouth slowly closing around one nipple and pulling it into his warm wet mouth.
“Josh.” Her fingers dug into his hair.
In response he moved to her other breast, giving them both equal worship time before he straightened and took her hand, leading her into the bedroom.
“A bed? How conventional,” she quipped, trying to ward off some of the embarrassment of being mostly naked, her nipples damp and cold from his mouth.
“Yeah, well, thought I’d spoil you, what with it being a holiday and all,” he said.
“What happens when it’s not a holiday? Kitchen sex?”
Josh turned once he reached the bed and tugged her toward him, her bare breasts brushing the hard planes of his chest and sending her already-simmering lust up another notch. “Kitchen sex. Shower sex. Couch sex, taxi sex—”
“Taxi sex?”
He smiled wickedly against her mouth as he kissed her slow and deep as she tried to figure out whether he was joking.
In the end, it didn’t matter. Because when he gently lowered her to the bed and lowered himself on top of her, there was only this moment.
He removed her pants and then his own, before glancing down her body and running a single finger along the top edge of her panties, just below her belly button.
“You never answered my question,” he said, his voice quiet as his finger roamed lower.
“What question?” Her voice was breathy.
“Are you still wearing a thong?”
In response, Heather merely lifted her eyebrows. “I thought we agreed no more talking.”
His gaze narrowed, and he slowly pushed her onto her stomach, groaning as he got the answer to his question.
“Why am I so obsessed with your ass?” he asked, his fingers trailing down her back until they reached the tiny fabric of the thong.
He hooked a finger beneath it teasingly, and Heather folded her arms under her head, biting the back of her hand to keep herself from begging him to touch her.
She didn’t have to beg.
He was already touching, his palm molding the shape of her butt as he planted hot kisses on the back of her neck.
His hand trailed lower, snaking under the fabric of her underwear as he slid a finger into her wetness without preamble. They both moaned.
Josh shifted, pulling his hand away only to reach under her, sliding his hand into her panties once more, this time using two fingers to circle her slowly and she bucked against him in need.
Heather tried to roll to her back, but he wouldn’t let her, his body weight holding her still as he trapped her against the bed—against his relentless fingers, probing and teasing until she exploded in his hand, muffling her cries against her arms.
He let her recover, brushing kisses over her shoulder until her cries turned into heavy breaths, before flipping her over.
Josh’s mouth dropped to hers, kissing her wild and hot before pulling back slightly. “Tell me you have a condom.”
Heather managed to move her lethargic limbs to get at her nightstand, pulling out a box of condoms that hadn’t seen action in a very, very long time.
Josh pulled the condom from her hand before slowly pulling her toward him once more, his hand tangling in her hair as he kissed her thoroughly, lowering her slowly to her back.
“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered against her neck. “And I’ve wanted this so damn long.”
Heather pulled his mouth to hers. “Then let’s not wait any longer.”
She opened to him as he settled above her, waiting until she gave him her eyes before he slid inside her, slow and thick and hard.
“Jesus,” he whispered into her neck.
“Jesus, 4C.”
He pulled his hips back slowly, and this time when he pushed forward, she arched to meet him, their bodies sliding together in perfect rhythm.
“Again,” she whispered. “More.”
He gave her more. He gave her everything, one arm hooked behind her neck, the other finding her center, two fingers rubbing over her clit until she was there, shattering against him, around him.
“Yes,” he said. “Heather—”
He let out a hoarse cry against her hair, his body bucking into hers, her hands on his ass, urging him on until he collapsed on top of her, a heavy, welcome weight.
And even in her postcoital bliss, Heather had the annoying realization that Josh Tanner was the best sex she’d ever had.
Her eyes flew open when she realized she’d said it aloud, but before embarrassment could sink in, he pressed his lips gently to hers. “Right back at you, 4C.”
She smiled happily, her fingers drifting over his shoulder as he settled his head beside hers on the pillow.
But as postorgasmic bliss slowly faded and reality crept in, Heather realized that far from scratching the itch, she had never wanted him more.
Dangerous territory for a man who made it very clear he wasn’t playing for keeps.
Chapter Twenty
HEATHER WOKE UP TO a large male hand on her breast and a large male penis against her butt.
Even before sleep had totally faded, she rolled her eyes and turned toward Josh, but he scooted closer, keeping her back to him.
“Stay,” he ordered. “I don’t want you to start fussing about morning breath and early-morning details.”
“The only early-morning detail I’m caring about at the moment is coffee,” she grumbled.
His thumb flicked over her nipple, and she sucked in a breath.
“Coffee first,” she said, wrapping her fingers around his wrist and trying to pull his hand away.
His hand slid down her body, a finger sliding between her legs.
In about ten seconds, she was wet and squirming against him.
“Coffee first, or . . .”
“Coffee second,” she said on a gasp as two fingers slipped inside her. “Coffee second.”
Josh reached over her head and grabbed a condom—their fourth—and put it on, before hooking a hand behind her knee.
He lifted her leg slightly and positioned himself, pausing for a heartbeat before plunging inside her.
It was good. Always so good.
“Damn you,” she said on a gasp.
“Touch yourself for me,” he ordered, lifting onto his elbow as he looked over her shoulder and down the length of her.
Heather bit her lip. She wasn’t unadventurous in bed, but she usually felt a hell of a lot braver when it wasn’t the early morning with sunlight displaying imperfections and all.
Josh’s mouth dropped to the sensitive spot where her shoulder met her neck, and he licked her lightly. “You’re beautiful,” he whispered.
It was all the encouragement she needed. Her hand slid down her stomach, hesitating only briefly before she let her fingers rub over her sensitive flesh.
Josh groaned and quickened his pace as he levered himself up once more, watching her hand. Watching them.
She couldn’t help it. She looked down, too, at the sight of him plunging in and out of her while her own fingers circled and stroked. It was so blatantly sexy, so unapologetically carnal that her orgasm was upon her far faster than it had any right to be.
“Josh—”
“Come.”
She did. And he came with her, his groan low and growly and pure man.
They both slumped back into the pillows, his arm heavy on her waist, his breath ruffling the hair that she knew had to be, in his word, enormous.
Eventually, she rolled onto her back and glanced toward him, holding a hand over her mouth. He was right about the morning breath thing. Sure, it was just Josh, but she still had standards.
“Coffee,” she said, the world muffled by her fingers.
“I’d love some,” he said, not opening his eyes.
She reached out and slapped his stomach, which probably hurt her more than it did him considering he had an honest-to-God six-pack.
He grunted and rolled off the bed into a standing position in one motion, pulling off the condom before ambling toward her bathroom. She heard the flush, and then he ambled back into the room for his pants, putting them on commando as he studied her.
“You look hot like that.”
“Hot mess,” she corrected.
“Nope. Just hot. Don’t let it go to your head though, you’re already insufferable enough with that big ego.”
She gaped at him. “I have the big ego?”
“You do.”
Then he was singing “Deck the Halls,” a favorite of his, apparently, and banging around in her kitchen.
A second later his head poked into the bedroom. “I just realized we never made our banana bread.”
“For the hundredth time, quit acting like that’s a thing that we do.”
“Okay,” he said agreeably. “But only because I’ve discovered another thing that we do that’s slightly more interesting than banana bread.”
She lifted her head and narrowed her eyes. “Slightly? Exactly where does sex rank next to your precious banana bread?”
“Depends. Does the banana bread have nuts?”
Heather reached behind her, picking up a candle she kept on the nightstand and lifting it like one might throw a football. “Speaking of nuts, you’d better watch yours.”
“I forgot what you were like without coffee,” he said. “Put the weapon down, 4C. I’ve got some Italian roast with your name on it.”
He disappeared again, and Heather smiled as she went to the dresser, pulling on underwear—non-thong this time, since he had a weakness for them, and her lady bits needed a break—and then tugged on gray sweatpants and a tank top.
Ordinarily she might have combed her hair, but this was Josh. And wasn’t this the entire point of having sex with someone that would never turn into something romantic? She didn’t have to worry about things like frizz.
She walked into the kitchen just as he was pouring them each a mug.
“And you thought I would hate you in the morning,” she said, greedily grabbing at the cup he held out.
“So you don’t, then?”
“Don’t what?” she asked, taking her coffee into the living room and sitting on the couch.
“Hate me.” His voice was casual, but his eyes were just the slightest bit wary as he searched her face.
She shrugged. “This doesn’t feel awkward-morning-after to me. Does it to you?”
“No,” he said. “But how do I know you’re not waiting until I leave to start your shame cycle.”
“Shame cycle? What the heck is that?”
“You know, when you women start overthinking things, wondering why I didn’t ask for your number, wondering if you made a mistake, wondering which notch on my bedpost you were . . .”
“Yeah, I’m not going to do that,” she promised, taking a sip of the coffee. “Although out of curiosity, how many women have you slept with?”
“A lot,” he said without apology as he plopped into a chair across from her.
That didn’t surprise her. Heck, she’d seen plenty of them. And speaking of . . .
Heather glanced at the clock on her wall. “Hey, how long until your mom gets here to make pancakes? That’s what she does for your one-night stands, right?”
Josh groaned. “Trust me when I say that is not how I was hoping that morning was going to go.”
“What, your mom catching you in the act?”
“She just caught the aftermath, thank God.”
“So the pancakes aren’t typ
ical.”
“God, no. Usually I just offer cereal only to tell them that I’m out of milk if they say yes.”
“Are you actually out of milk?”
“Hardly ever.”
Heather shook her head. “Josh.”
“What? It’s not like I promised them breakfast in bed when I invited them over. They know the score.”
Heather wondered if there was a hidden message there. A gentle reminder that Heather too should know the score and not expect anything more than he wanted to give.
Heather leaned forward, cupping her mug in both hands as she waited for him to meet her eyes.
He did so, warily. “You look like you’re about to give a speech.”
“I am, so listen up and take notes if you need to. I meant what I said last night. I’m not reading too much into what happened. I didn’t wake up in the middle of the night to watch you sleep. I didn’t punch holes in all the condoms in hopes of having your love baby—”
Josh laughed. “Jesus, 4C.”
She leveled him with a look. “I am, however, hungry. Your mom’s not here to make us pancakes, I’m not making pancakes, and I don’t want your stupid cereal.”
“Pie?” he asked hopefully.
“I was thinking more like brunch,” she said. “I hardly ever get to go out to brunch. The wedding business almost never provides a free weekend, and the Belles have an event-free day today before all post-holiday hell breaks loose tomorrow.”
He said nothing, and she felt a flicker of disappointment. “It’s okay if you don’t want to,” she said quietly. “I’m perfectly happy going to brunch on my own. I have zero qualms about drinking mimosas by myself.”
“You’ll do no such thing,” he said, taking a sip of coffee. “I know just the place. The hash browns are straight from heaven, and the French toast is stuffed with mascarpone, if that’s your thing.”
“Really?” She didn’t bother to hide her happiness. “You want to go with me?”
“Of course,” he said, standing and finishing the last bit of his coffee. “What better way to listen to you talk about how I was the best sex you ever had?”