Mixing Temptation

by Sara Jane Stone

  “Even at my lowest point,” he said, “when depression clouded my life and I thought my short-­term memory was gone, I didn’t stop hoping. And that I remember clear as day. You haven’t hit a dead end. Trust me on this. I know you. Not who you were before or all the details about your family. But I know that if someone as strong and brave as you gives up, the rest of us don’t stand a chance.”

  “I don’t know what to wish for anymore.” She rolled her shoulders up toward her ears and then down. “Every time I think about the future, this tension seeps in. I feel it lodge between my shoulder blades like a physical reminder that I’m tethered to my past actions.”

  Josh rubbed his hands together. “Now, this is going to sound like a come-­on designed to advance tonight into the tried and true third date parameters. You’ll just have to take me at my word that my motives are sixty percent pure.”

  “Only sixty?” she said with a laugh.

  “Yeah. Now, here it goes.” He cleared his throat. “Sweetheart, I can ease that tension right here, right now with a little back massage,” he said in a deep voice that sounded like a cross between used car salesman and Magic Mike.

  She laughed again. And he waggled his red-­gold brows.

  “What about the other forty?” she asked.

  “Sinful.” He shook his head as if ashamed to admit part of him leaned toward ulterior motives. “But I think I can keep those impulses in line long enough to relieve that ache in your back, honey.”

  “All right.” She plucked a cushion off one of the empty chairs as she stood. As she walked around the table, he pushed back and created a space for her at his feet. She dropped the pillow to the wooden boards and sat with her back to him and her gaze fixed on the horizon.

  His hands rested on her shoulders. The wide neckline of her knit sweater offered access to her bare skin and he took advantage. His fingers slipped beneath the fabric and his thumbs ran down alongside her spine. Then, without a word of warning, he began to massage her tight and tired shoulders.

  The pure pleasure of welcoming another’s touch rippled through her. And thank you, angels in heaven, he didn’t break the moment by asking if she was all right, or if he made her uncomfortable. Josh trusted her to speak up and tell him if she needed him to stop. But still, it probably wouldn’t hurt to add a little encouragement.

  “Please don’t stop,” she murmured.

  “Wasn’t planning on it,” he said.

  He used his knuckles to target the pockets of pure tightness underneath her shoulder blades and she moaned.

  “I’d forgotten how good this feels.” She didn’t give a damn if her voice bordered on low and throaty. The pleasure had clearly migrated south, drawing her attention to the parts of her body that no longer wished to be ignored.

  “Keep reminding me,” he said. “Or my imagination might talk my hands into wandering.”

  “Where?” she teased.

  His fingers slipped over her shoulder and ran down the front of her shirt. He stopped below her collarbone. Tracing gentle circles over her skin, his touch gliding back and forth under her bra strap, he said, “I’d start here and work my way lower.”

  She arched her back, offering access and encouragement. “Then?”

  “My hands would slip under your bra and cup your breasts.”

  “Hmm,” she moaned. But his actions didn’t mimic his words. He continued to massage her pectoral muscles.

  “And then I’d face this inner struggle,” he continued. “Do I lift your breasts and press them together or tease your nipples first? If I run the pad of my thumb over your nipples, I could gauge how you like to be touched and learn if your breasts are sensitive. And I should probably start there. Because if I draw your tits together first, well hell, I’d be tempted to dip my tongue between them and lick my way to your nipples.”

  His words painted an X-­rated picture in her mind of a scene that belonged inside the cottage—­bedroom, love seat, or sleeping loft, it didn’t matter as long as they slipped behind a closed door. Just in case someone walked down the beach. She had a list of her own unexplored fantasies, but they didn’t involving attracting outside attention.

  “I can tell you’ve lost sleep over this debate,” she said.

  “Caroline, you don’t want to know how much I’ve fantasized about your cleavage.” He added a serving of sincerity to his tone as his finger dipped lower, grazing the top edge of her breasts.

  “Tell me.”

  “But then you’ll think I’m only concerned with your breasts. And that’s just not true.”

  “Right now, I’m just interested in how my breasts play into your wildest daydreams.” She ground out the words as she arched further. She cocked her head to the right and rested it on his knee. “Please, Josh.”

  He let out a soft chuckle. “Are you sure about that? Because once I finish licking a path between your tits, I’d kiss my way over that taut little belly down to your panties. And this time there’s no debate. I’d touch you first, testing to see if you’re wet, before running my tongue over you until you came.”

  She drew a sharp inhale as her body responded to his words. See if she was wet? If he kept talking, she’d be tempted to slip her own hand into her underwear. It wouldn’t take much before her cries left anyone out for a sunset beach walk wondering if the cottage offered a different kind of view.

  “All this time and I had no idea you had such a dirty mouth,” she said, her voice different, but not unfamiliar—­at least not to her ears. But it had been a long time since she’d been this turned on.

  “That’s that forty percent of pure sin.” His hands stilled on her shoulders. “Sorry—­”

  “I like it.”

  And he wasn’t the only one with a sixty/forty split. Although right now, the balance was tipped in favor of her naughty side.

  “But I think it’s your turn.” She lifted her head off his knee and pulled away from the hands that had begun kneading her shoulders again. She pushed off the porch floor and turned to face him. “Sit down, Josh.”

  “You’re going to give me a massage?” he asked, raising one beautiful eyebrow.

  “Don’t sound so surprised.” She waited for him to shift from the chair to the cushion on the floorboards. “You spend all day wielding a chainsaw and hauling big heavy logs out of the forest.”

  He laughed as he settled on the pillow and stretched his long, jean-­clad legs in front of him. “Here I’ve been baking for you, trying to win you over with sugar and whipped cream, and I could have taken you out to a job site and revved up my chainsaw.”

  “Well, if you want to talk about fantasies . . .”

  She let the words linger on the crisp night air. One glance at the ocean suggested the sun would disappear below the horizon any minute. Darkness would follow along with a reason to move inside.

  She glanced down and tried to focus on the tan skin dipping below the neckline of his T-­shirt. Under or over his shirt she wondered. Or . . .

  “Would you mind slipping off your shirt?” she asked. “I don’t want to stretch out the neckline.”

  He laughed again as he reached for the fabric at the base of his neck and drew the shirt over his head. “You know if I tried that line, it would sound dirty.”

  She placed her hands on his naked shoulders. “I’m just getting started.”

  A long time had passed since she’d looked at Josh and thought imposing. That first night, in the clearing, his broad shoulders and tall, muscular form had appeared threatening. But now the formidable expanse of pure muscle beneath her hands impressed without frightening her.

  Probably because he’s sitting at my feet. And I’ve seen him perform a striptease.

  Her fingers dug into the taut, hard plane of pure male perfection. The man beneath her touch moaned.

  “Too hard?” she asked.

&
nbsp; “No,” he growled. “Go deeper.”

  Her hands ached as she kneaded his back, winning another low groan. By the time she worked her thumbs lower, pressing against the outline of his spine, he was practically purring. And for the first time in years, she felt a ripple of power threaded with desire.

  She trailed her fingertips over his skin and she felt him shiver. Placing her palms on his shoulders, she ran her hands down his biceps. The muscles flexed beneath her touch.

  “I’ve daydreamed about your arms.” She spoke in a low voice, but kept her tone matter-­of-­fact. She wasn’t trying to seduce him beyond this moment. She simply wanted to explore the body she’d admired for months. “Even before your little Magic Mike dance.”

  “Tell me,” he murmured.

  “But how will you ever manage to share a brownie with me in Big Buck’s back room if you know I’ve imagined what it would feel like to run my hand over your chest?” Her fingers followed her words, gliding up over his shoulders and down his chest. Red-­gold chest hair greeted her hands.

  “I like chocolate,” he said. “And I like sharing it with you.”

  “Sometimes,” she murmured as she dared to take his massage a step further and trace circles around his nipples, “I wondered what would happen if you ditched your flannel button-­down after everyone else left. On those nights when you stayed to make sure I got home safe after a long Saturday night shift.”

  He let out a low growl of approval.

  “Josh, I’ve wanted to explore your body for a long time. And I didn’t envision stopping when I reached your belt buckle.”

  He cocked his head and glanced over his left shoulder, green eyes dancing with amusement. “All this time we were sharing brownies and pies, talking about how many pint glasses the bar went through on a busy night, and you were fantasizing about my dick?”

  “Wondering,” she corrected. “Imagining how much you had to offer.”

  He gaped at her. Whether from surprise at her blatant words, or shock that someone with her past would mentally debate his intimate dimensions . . . Well, she hoped it was the former. Because he’d never treated her as a victim. Yes, he’d abided by her boundaries. But she’d chalked that up to good manners and a healthy respect for women.

  “I didn’t think—­” he began. “I didn’t realize—­”

  “That I still think about sex?”

  “That you were mentally undressing me while you worked,” he said with a smile.

  She returned her hands to his shoulders and began to massage him again. It was surprise, pure and simple. She’d added the layers. “You didn’t realize that your fantasies lined up with mine?”

  “If I’d known, I’d have withheld the pie until you told me everything.”

  “I have a feeling I could have talked you into sharing a slice or two,” she said.

  He leaned back into her touch. “Tell me what happens after you strip off my pants . . .”

  “First, I take a long, hard look—­”

  The first few notes of ‘Sweet Caroline’ cut in. Josh scrambled to his feet and dug his cell out of his jeans front pocket.

  “Shit,” he cursed.

  The song played another bar. That’s for me, she thought. But why now? Why here? Plus, she didn’t have a phone. Unless it always rang like that . . .

  “When did you change your ringtone?” she asked.

  “This one’s set for Big Buck’s.” He swiped his finger across the screen and held the phone to his ear. “Hello?”

  She wrapped her arms around her waist and tried not to stare at his crotch. His jeans didn’t hide the fact that he had a lot to offer.

  Next time, she thought. After I pay Dustin a visit.

  But he was ready now . . . and he’d programmed his phone for her.

  “Hey, Noah. Yeah, she’s right here. I’ll put you on speaker.”

  “Where are you guys?” Noah’s voice boomed through the phone. “Are you close to Palo Alto?”

  “Not exactly,” she said with a glance at the receding waves still visible under the rising half-­moon.

  “We took a detour to the coast,” Josh added. “I thought Caroline needed a little time with the ocean. Some fresh air and all before we head south.”

  “That sounds great,” Noah said. “But shit, Ryan’s going crazy. He’s called twice since he got back to base. And look, he believes Helena needs a full-­blown rescue mission. ”

  “She does,” Caroline said. “And she’s going to get it. We’re on our way.”

  “Great,” Noah said with a sigh. “I’ll pass the message on to our air force friend.”

  “Has he called her?” she asked. “If he has reason to believe her situation has escalated, Ryan might want to call the local police. We can go and talk to her, offer a way out, but there is no guarantee she’ll take it unless she’s desperate.”

  “If she was dying to escape, she could have stayed in Forever when she had the chance,” Noah pointed out.

  “It’s not always that cut-­and-­dried,” she said simply.

  “I know,” Noah said. “Trust me, I know.”

  The line went silent. She suspected Noah—­the man who’d tried his best to save her from an officer who should have been fighting beside them—­was taking a brief trip down memory lane.

  “Enjoy the beach, Caroline,” Noah added finally. “And thanks for turning this into a real vacation for her, Josh.”

  “Yeah, I just tagged along to prove that I rock at dating,” Josh said easily. “We found this resort by the sea. A cozy, beachfront cottage. Nice clear night—­”

  “I’ve heard enough,” Noah said. “Keep me updated on your mission.”

  The call ended and Josh pocketed the phone. Then he bent down and reclaimed his shirt. He must be freezing by now. Fall nights in Oregon called for sweaters, not bare chests.

  “Sounds like we should get an early start,” she said as she stood and picked up her chowder bowl.

  “You know we might get down there only to have Helena slam the door in our faces.” Josh scooped up his dishes and followed her through the cottage’s front door. “Noah’s right. If she wanted help she could have stayed with her mom.”

  “She could have,” Caroline admitted as she set the bowl in the kitchenette’s tiny sink and stepped aside to make room for Josh to do the same. “But she spent about twenty-­four hours in her hometown. That’s not a lot of time to shake the feeling that there is no escape.”

  “Still, she had a way out,” he said. “She could have moved back home.”

  “Maybe Helena felt that she couldn’t. We won’t know until we talk to her. I do know that it’s one thing to be hurt by a stranger. But someone you know and trust? Like the man she swore to love until death do them part?”

  “It’s different.” He crossed his arms in front of his chest. The posture highlighted his biceps, but she didn’t feel like exploring his muscles now. Not when his expression was set to ‘dead serious.’

  “I felt like there was no way out. No escape.” She wanted to look away, but forced herself to meet his gaze.

  “Yet you’re going back to see Dustin,” he said. “Funny how you left out that little detour when we were talking to Noah.”

  “He doesn’t need to know,” she said. “And we’ll be at Helena’s tomorrow night.”

  “But you think Helena feels she can’t get out,” he said.

  “Someone needs to build the path for her and then show her the way.”

  “I’m glad you escaped,” he said with a sigh. “But are you sure we’re the right duo for the job, this ‘rescue mission’?”

  She nodded slowly and waited for his smile to return. It was as if he’d left his grin, his laugh, and his charm on the porch. “But if you’re having second thoughts—­”

  “I’m going with you,”
he said firmly.

  “Don’t want to miss out on another date?”

  His muscles contracted, accentuating his powerful arms. But still no smile.

  “Caroline—­”

  “Would it help if I made us a pair of superhero costumes?”

  And finally, finally, his lips curved up as his gaze headed south. “Would you wear one of those spandex outfits? The ones cut like a strapless bikini? And those knee-­high boots?”

  She crossed the small kitchenette/living room space and tapped her index finger to his forearm. Fighting the temptation to continue her earlier exploration of all his hard-­earned muscles, she rose up on her toes. Her lips hovered an inch from his.

  “Be careful what you wish for,” she murmured. “Or you might find yourself wearing a pair of tights with your cape.”

  “I’m willing to take the risk.” He lowered his mouth and captured hers. Her body hummed, eager to join in and make this a full-­body kiss. His lips moved over hers, but he stopped short of reaching for her. Slowly, he pulled away and stepped back. And she lowered her arms to her side.

  “Good night, Supergirl,” he said. “I’ll be on the porch dreaming about your legs in those crime-­fighting boots.”

  Chapter 11

  NO ESCAPE.

  Despite all her talk about superheroes and sexy costumes, those words repeated over and over like the refrain to a song Josh couldn’t get out of his head. Hell, he swore he saw the letters spelled out in the sky as he stared up at the stars.

  He had a hard time imagining the bold, beautiful Caroline trapped by anything. Wearing a sparkly leotard and fighting crime? Hell yeah. But never defeated.

  Maybe I put too much faith in her strength.

  He glanced at the door leading to the cottage’s warm and snug interior. He didn’t mind the cold night air or the wooden floorboards beneath his sleeping bag. He’d wanted to give her space. And he’d needed some himself.

  What if his brothers had been right? The idea practically gave him hives. But still, he had to wonder if this little road trip was destined to implode. He knew what he wanted for his future. And driving around the coast with his girlfriend was a far cry from settled down. Add in the fact that she wanted to spy on her rapist and this trip seemed destined for failure.