But she stared at his now-hidden crotch for several additional beats while her face went from red to purple. Only when she gasped and blinked, quickly looking away, did he realize that she’d been holding her breath.
One of her flustered hands went to her forehead and then fluttered through her hair. “I was just—”
By now his brain had fired up again. He opened his mouth to apologize, lest she think he was a pervert and call building security, but that wasn’t what came out.
“Yeah, okay,” he said, dropping the pillow with a flourish and opening his arms wide so she could see him in all his fully aroused, boxer-brief-clad glory. “I want you. You already know that. I’m not apologizing for it.”
Her head came back around. She made a valiant effort to keep her attention on his face, but her over-bright gaze dropped to his boner again, lingered for a heartbeat, then flickered back up to his eyes.
“You’re masturbating.”
No reason not to own it, since it was already laid out there on a silver platter.
“Yep.”
“In my living room.”
“Yep.”
“And you’re thinking of me while you’re doing it.”
“Yep. And just so you know—it’s not the first time. And I’ve had dreams about you.”
“Oh, my God.”
“I just want all my cards out on the table.”
“All of you seems to be out on the table.”
He shrugged unapologetically, sweeping his arms wide again. “Deal with it.”
“I wanted to deal with it!” she cried. “We could’ve been in my bedroom dealing with it—” she pointed at his erection “—right now! And you turned me down!”
Planting his feet wide and putting his hands on his hips, he squared off with her, leaning down in her face with as much dignity as possible under the circumstances.
“What’s your point, Gloria?”
“What’s my point?” She was aghast. “My point is that I don’t get you, Cooper! What kind of man are you?”
That was easy.
“I’m the kind of man who’s the opposite of the loser who’s been wasting your time for the last couple of years,” he told her quietly. She went still. “I’m the kind of man who wants more from you than one night of sex. In fact, I’m the kind of man who wants more than sex from you, and I’m willing to wait until the time is right for you, even if that’s physically uncomfortable for me. Any other questions?”
Her gaze, searching and intent, never left his as she slowly shook her head.
“Great.” He sprawled onto the sofa, flapped the blanket open over him and smashed the pillow into place beneath his head. “I’m beat.”
Stretching his arm overhead, he reached for the end-table lamp and clicked it off, throwing her bewildered face into shadow. Then he rolled over, turning his back on her, and tried to settle in for what was sure to be a long and torturous night.
* * *
It turned out that leather, even the fine Italian leather of Gloria’s sectionals, was not a good sleeping surface, especially when one was overheated, aroused and wakeful. Kicking off the blanket, which was, at this point, tangled by his feet anyway, Cooper rolled back to his stomach and let his arm dangle over the sofa’s edge. But this position wasn’t any better than the last four hundred positions he’d tried.
He sighed.
Checked his watch’s lighted display: three-nineteen.
Sighed again.
Stared blearily at the city’s lights, which were blurred on the other side of her sheer drapes.
Thrust his hips once or twice against the firm cushions, desperate for any relief his blue balls could get.
That was when he heard her again.
Without moving, he shifted his gaze from the windows to the hallway, his whole body focused on the soft padding of her bare feet as she approached. A second later, she materialized out of the darkness, a siren in only her shirt and panties. The blue-white from the moon’s glow and the city’s ambient light distinguished her from the shadows.
This was the third time she’d come.
She hovered on the living room’s threshold. As he had the other two times, he waited, his body coiled tight, to see what she would do. What if her desire for him had blossomed to the point that she came closer, all the way to him? If so, would she touch him? What would he do if she did? Or would she quickly turn and slink back to her bedroom and close the door behind her, as she had the other two times?
The seconds marched on, marked by the faint ticking of his watch.
She stood there, motionless and watchful.
He couldn’t take it anymore.
“Gloria.” His voice was low and throaty with desire. “Go to bed.”
“Come with me.”
Her voice was sweet. Musical. Needy.
It swept over him, elusive and soft enough to make nerve endings tingle up his arms, across his shoulders and neck, and up into his scalp, forcing him to stifle a full-bodied groan.
Jesus. She was killing him, but he was not going to do this the easy way. Gloria was too important for that. He was going to do it the right way.
“No.” Rolling back over, he levered up to sitting, making the leather creak, and reached out to her. “Come here.”
He had one quick second to shore up his will, and then she was hurrying to him at a pace that was just this side of a run. She kept coming straight into his arms, and that was when the weakness got him. He half rose to catch her as she settled into a straddle on his lap, her knees resting on either side of his hips. He meant to hold her back a little, to say whoa and slow this train down before the inevitable crash, but touching her—feeling the solid warmth of her beneath his hands—was too intoxicating to refuse.
It was just for one minute, he told himself, even though he knew it was a lie. One minute wouldn’t do any harm.
She stared straight into his face, her eyes glittering with hot excitement as she scraped her nails over his scalp and caught handfuls of hair at his nape. He watched her, dying to see what she would do...how far she would go if he let her...how wild an unleashed Gloria would be when he touched her.
And he wasn’t an innocent party, despite his best intentions. Not at all. His roving hands made their way up and down her silky thighs and around to her tight ass, cupping and kneading her so that the sweet spot between her thighs rubbed against his erection until he couldn’t take it anymore. He wondered if it was possible to hyperventilate with pleasure, because God knew he couldn’t regulate his breathing. And when she leaned her face down, he tipped his chin up, wallowing in the minty sweetness of her breath as she moved her mouth closer to his.
For one moment out of time it was all good: the crooning noises she made...the way he ran his hands up her sides, brushing his thumbs over her pebbled nipples...the way she arched her back to thrust her small breasts into his palms, filling them with her soft flesh...but when her lips came closer and her kiss was less than a whisper away, everything was, suddenly, all wrong.
A nightmare image of her in the morning filled his mind. He imagined her turning her face away from him and spouting the standard lines about how she’d made a mistake and wasn’t ready for a relationship because she had loose ends with the punk who’d hurt her—he refused to entertain the thought that the other man might have broken her heart. That gave him just the zap of ice water to the veins that he needed to make sure common sense prevailed.
Cooper knew himself well enough to know that while resisting Gloria tonight might be painful, waking up to her cold shoulder after he’d spent time inside her delicious body—kissing her, loving her—would be excruciating.
So in the instant before their lips came together, he cupped either side of her face and held her still.
“
I told you we’re not doing this,” he said sharply.
Gloria, to her credit, did not give up without a fight. Jerking her head free, she smiled a sultry woman’s smile and diverted her mouth to the side of his neck so she could scrape him with her teeth while he moaned with exquisite pleasure.
“We are doing this,” she murmured in his ear.
“No, we’re not.”
Galvanized by a wave of frustration, he acted quickly, before his overheated hormones influenced him any further. He grabbed her by the shoulders and pushed her back and off him, ignoring her shocked cry of protest. There was a struggle, but he was bigger and stronger, even though she did have his balls in a tight metaphorical grip. When it was all said and done, they were stretched out and spooning together, her back to his front, and his back against the cushions.
She was none too happy about her sudden loss of control, and she didn’t play fair.
“Cooper.” She whispered to him, circling her hips and grinding that perfect ass against his erection. “I’m so hot right now—”
“You don’t say,” he muttered.
“—and I need you.” She writhed in his arms, cranking him higher. “Please, Cooper.”
“Do you want me to leave?”
“What? No.”
“Then settle down so I can take care of you.”
Those were apparently the magic words. She stilled and went quiet, until the harsh rasp of their breath was the only sound left in the world.
Certain now that he had her absolute attention, he went to work.
Dipping his face into the sweet hollow between her neck and shoulder—ah, man, she smelled like flowers and aroused woman, and she was seriously killing him—he bit, just hard enough, and was rewarded by her sharp cry of pleasure.
“You like that?” he asked, now running his tongue over the spot to soothe it.
“Yes.”
“Are you thinking of him now?”
“No.”
“I can’t hear you.”
“No.”
He shifted behind her, rearranging his hands so that one was low on her taut belly and the other was flattened against her breast. He circled that hand, rubbing her hard nipple until her hips began to thrust involuntarily.
“What about now? Are you thinking of him now?”
“God, no,” she breathed.
“Who are you thinking about?”
“You.”
“And who am I? Say my name.”
“Cooper.”
“Again. So I can make sure you’ve got it.”
“Cooper.”
“Good girl.” He’d thrown one leg over both of hers to keep her still a moment ago, but now he eased it off, freeing her. “Now I’ll make you come.”
“Please, Cooper. Please—”
“Spread your legs for me.”
She was a model of compliance, melting into him with a sigh as she eased her thighs open in the hottest imaginable invitation. With another bite to her neck, he simultaneously ran the heel of his hand down her belly and over the silky panties that covered wiry hair beneath. Another shocked cry, and she began to move again, thrusting against him. His fingers itched to touch her bare flesh, knowing she’d be slick and petal soft, but he didn’t think he could handle it without something snapping in his brain. He’d drawn a line in the sand and sworn he wouldn’t cross it, and he meant it. There were things he knew better than to do, and touching her there, without panties between them, was one. Kissing her there was another. Kissing her perfect lips was a biggie.
But he could cool her off a little—oh, yes.
He could make her come until his touch was the only one she remembered.
So that was what he did, making tight, rhythmic circles with the heel of his hand as he zeroed in on her wet sex. Her breath stalled and hitched while her hips thrust against his hand, pumping harder and harder, until finally she let loose with a long, high cry, then went limp in his arms. And, feeling like the newly crowned emperor of the universe, he rubbed and stroked every part of her body he could reach, imprinting the feeling of her nipples...her hips and ass...her long legs on his mind forever, because he didn’t know how long it’d be until he had her like this again.
And then she stirred, reaching a hand back and delving between his legs, where the mother of all erections still raged.
“Shhh,” he told her, stopping her hand by grabbing and kissing it. “Go to sleep.”
“But you—”
He grinned against her neck. “I’ve never been better. Trust me.”
“Cooper,” she said on a sexy, sated sigh. “Why are you here? Why are you doing this?”
Sliding his lips up to the delicate curve of her ear, he kept his voice low for a variety of reasons. Because the situation between them was evolving and fragile, and he didn’t want to break it. Because he didn’t want to scare her. Because he was already scared by how fast and how big this thing was, and saying it too loudly might make it even bigger.
But whispering was okay. He could whisper the truth to her.
“Because,” he told her, “you’re my woman. You just don’t know it yet. Now go to sleep.”
“Cooper,” she repeated drowsily.
He strengthened his grip on her, anchoring her to him with a hand on her breast and the other on her sex, holding her tight so she’d know that she was far too precious to let go.
“Shhh,” he repeated. “Go to sleep.”
And without further protest, she did.
Chapter 5
Gloria woke to a ringing and a pounding, both of which seemed to be coming from inside her head.
“I’m up!” Long years of training as a medical student and resident kicked in, forcing her to bolt upright in bed. “I’m up. I’ll be right there. Give me one second,” she snapped, swinging one foot over the side so she could—
Whoa.
The room dipped and swerved around her. She pressed a hand to her head, wishing her brain would stop clanging inside her skull, and that was when the wave of nausea rolled up her throat, gaining momentum. Ah, shit. Hangover. Served her right for drinking like a college freshman last night, and champagne, too. Nothing was nastier the morning after than a bottle of champagne on the way back up.
But she drew the line at vomiting, which was disgusting beyond words. She was not going to barf—not on her bed or anywhere else, thanks. Scrambling to standing and hanging on to the furniture as she went, passing bed...nightstand...dresser...door frame...she made it into the bathroom, avoiding the mirrored medicine cabinet. There was no part of her that wanted to see what she looked like right now, but she wasn’t taking any chances on an accidental glimpse. So she kept her lids closed, which had the added benefit of keeping the weak sunlight that was filtering through her blinds from stabbing her in the eyeballs. Reaching out, she fumbled around for her bin of essential oils and found it pretty quickly, which was great because bile had begun to collect around the dead rat she seemed to have in her mouth, and her tight throat had begun to spasm.
She would not throw up...she would not—
Moving too fast, she lost her grip on the bin and dropped it into the sink with a loud bang. The tiny bottles of essential oils clattered against the ceramic for what felt like ten agonizing minutes, each sound piercing her eardrums.
No. No, no, no! Where was the peppermint? She needed the peppermint— Oh, there it was!
Snatching it up, she unscrewed the lid, held it under her nose for a deep breath and—
Her throat spasmed again.
For a second or two, it could have gone either way. That revolting knot of bile hovered, refusing to go either up or down, until she breathed deep again. Swallowed hard. Used her free hand to hang on to the sink’s edge for support. Suddenly, her stomach settle
d. She gasped in another deep breath, waiting.
The nausea eased up. It wasn’t gone, but it was manageable.
Thank goodness.
That strange ringing, on the other hand, was still going.
What the hell was it?
After a quick rinse of mouthwash, she followed the sound back into her bedroom, where it seemed to be coming from the rumpled half of her bed. It was the fancy melodic ring of a cell phone, she realized, which was bizarre because she’d thrown her phone out the limo’s window last night. She definitely remembered that. Maybe it was Cooper’s phone, which would also be bizarre, because Cooper had not, to her knowledge, come into her bedroom last night, and there was no sign of him now.
Was he gone, then? Probably. Men didn’t tend to stick around with her for long.
“Cooper?” Her voice was a broken rasp that wouldn’t carry beyond the nightstand, so she cleared it and tried again. “Cooper? You here?”
No answer.
Her stomach, which had already seen a great deal of activity this morning, twinged with something that felt suspiciously like disappointment. That metallic ringing, meanwhile, continued. She tossed the pillows out of the way, looking for the source, and then saw the lighted display under the sheet. Aha! Crawling across the bed and flipping the sheet aside, she revealed a cool-looking smartphone with a big screen. On it flashed a picture of Cooper that he’d obviously taken himself. The selfie showed him in all his blue-eyed, curly-haired, hard-jawed glory, looking incredibly sexy, as though he’d just climbed out of bed, with a prickly five-o’clock shadow across his chin and cheeks.
And if she needed any further clarification on who was calling, it was right there on the display.
Cooper, it said.
With a snort, she snapped the phone up and hit the green button.
“I would ask who this is,” she said, “but you seem to have covered that.”
“Oh, good.” She could hear the laughter in his voice. “You found the phone.”
“I found the phone. You’re not in my kitchen, are you?”
“I’m home, getting ready for a flight to San Francisco in a couple of hours. I’ve got a meeting tomorrow, if you must know,” he told her, and his smirk came through loud and clear. “Why? Did you miss me when you woke up?”
Sinful Paradise (Kimani Hotties) Page 5