by Dawn Atkins
In the days since that kiss, he’d done some research on her. She was the daughter of two very highly acclaimed professors, and from what he’d gathered, she’d been a sort of joint project of theirs, a highly intelligent child that they’d pushed and prodded, supervising every aspect of her education. Each of them had published articles about her.
He thought of his own happily married parents and his kid sister, and all the fun they’d had growing up. He suspected that in comparison, Zoë had had a very lonely childhood as well as a highly pressured one.
Her academic credentials were certainly impressive, and Sierra raved about her work. It was the two months she’d spent as a data analyst at the CIA that had surprised him. She’d resigned shortly before he’d been “terminated,” and her short tenure there had given him his first clue that the real Zoë McNamara might be a sharp right turn from the academic nerd she so carefully projected to the people around her.
The kiss they’d shared certainly provided evidence of that. Maybe it was the contrast that fascinated him so.
With a sigh, Jed shifted again in the hammock. He shouldn’t be thinking of Zoë McNamara. He shouldn’t be thinking of the fact that she’d be here in a short time. Or of the fact that he had condoms in his pocket. Nevertheless, his lips curved in a grin. In the past few days, he’d created some very interesting fantasies about Sierra’s little assistant, some of them in this very hammock. Sex in a hammock called for invention and ingenuity, but it was invariably worth it.
A muffled crash came from the houseboat. Lifting his baseball cap, Jed flicked a glance in that direction. Speaking of sex…
Jed sighed again. He really had to get on with his life. He was growing tired of feeling like a third wheel now that his host and old friend had forged a solid relationship with Sierra Gibbs. She was spending more and more time on the houseboat, and he tried to give them privacy. In deference to his presence, they retired pretty frequently to Ryder’s cabin, but it was clear he was restricting their freedom of sexual expression.
He had to do something and soon. It wasn’t just boredom or restlessness motivating him. It was also that slim possibility that Bailey Montgomery, his would-be assassin, had spotted him at that party.
And there’d been something else that had occurred on the night he’d kissed Zoë. After the party, he and Ryder and Sierra had driven her home, and he was pretty sure that they’d been followed by a dark-colored car—a van or an SUV. It hadn’t gotten close enough for him to be sure. He’d been driving Ryder’s car, and it hadn’t taken much to lose the tail. He’d delayed telling Ryder this weekend because Sierra was here, but he was going to have to tell him soon.
Maybe his best strategy was to make the first move. What did he have to lose if Bailey Montgomery already knew he was alive?
Jed pulled his baseball cap down over his eyes to block out the sun. It was a big if, but certainly worth considering. In the meantime, he was going to take a nap. In some of the toughest situations he’d found himself in, he’d always relied on his subconscious mind to come up with a plan.
He hoped it wouldn’t fail him now.
3
ZOË BRAKED HER MIATA to a stop, then peered at Sierra’s directions. Ahead of her was a houseboat, white with green shutters just as Sierra had described it. To the right was Ryder Kane’s sporty red convertible. Sufficiently reassured that she’d finally arrived at her destination, she climbed out of the car, lifted the box of note cards from behind the driver’s seat and walked toward the boat.
Nerves knotted in her stomach, but she made herself put one foot in front of the other. The time for analysis was over. She was going to act. She should feel relieved instead of feeling like Joan of Arc climbing up her funeral pyre.
She was ten feet away from the houseboat when she heard a muffled moan. Dropping the box, she raced forward, but when she heard the second moan, louder this time, she stopped short. The third moan was longer and accompanied by a rapping sound as if something was bumping against the wall in a steady rhythm. Zoë was pretty sure that no one was in trouble or pain. Chances were good that Sierra and Ryder were making love.
And she’d been about to break in on them. Not her best move under the circumstances. As the rhythm of the rapping noise increased and she realized that she was just standing there eavesdropping, she turned and hurried back to the box she’d dropped.
Dropping to her knees, she began to gather up the note cards that had fallen out of the box. But in one part of her mind, she was picturing what Ryder and Sierra were doing, and the images triggered a hot lick of lust inside of her.
Pushing the mental pictures away, she focused on the note cards. Sierra used blue ones and hers were white. Methodically she began sorting them into two piles. But the images slipped back into her mind—only this time, it wasn’t Ryder and Sierra that she saw. It was Jed Calhoun and herself, limbs entwined, bodies locked and moving in that quickly escalating rhythm that she was listening to. Heat flooded through her with such intensity that for a moment, she thought she just might melt into a pool on the ground. So vivid were the pictures in her mind that she could almost feel Jed’s long, hard body pressing against hers, and she could imagine quite vividly what it would feel like to have him pushing into her, withdrawing and pushing in again. She wanted, oh, she wanted…
There was another sound, a long feminine cry, and there was no mistaking the satisfaction in it. Then there was silence. Zoë pressed a hand against her stomach. Her insides were so hot, so empty, and longing for…something. When was the last time she’d achieved that kind of release? That kind of pleasure? Years ago.
She should leave. She should get back into her car and drive around a bit. After bunching all the note cards together, she stuffed them back into the box.
And then suddenly, she felt him. It wasn’t a sound that warned her. It was her body’s reaction that told her Jed Calhoun was there even before she turned and saw him standing at the edge of the trees, wearing nothing but cutoff shorts and a baseball cap.
Her mouth went dry as dust, and a rush of sensations cartwheeled through her. Heat. Cold. An electric shock of lust. She couldn’t move. She couldn’t even think.
He was watching her in that intent way he had. Even at this distance, she could feel his eyes moving over her, the heat of his gaze on her skin. The sensation was as real as if he were touching her.
She wanted him to touch her. She wanted his hands on her. More than that, she wanted her hands on him. But he wasn’t moving. He was a man who could wait for what he wanted.
Lifting her chin, she rose to her feet. Well, she wasn’t going to wait for what she wanted.
JED HADN’T THOUGHT it was possible for his body to get any harder, but it did with the first step she took toward him. He’d been watching her for some time, and the sounds coming from the houseboat had made his head spin with images of what it would be like to touch her until she was hot and wet and slick, to thrust inside of her and feel her close around him….
If he’d gone to her now, he wasn’t sure he could have kept himself from taking her right here on the spot. Control was something he’d always prided himself on. But it seemed to disappear around Zoë. Case in point, he hadn’t been able to stop himself from getting out of the hammock and coming to see her. Now he was willing her to come to him.
That’s what she’d done in the little daydream he’d been having in the hammock before he’d heard her car. The woman he’d conjured up in his mind had risen out of the water like a nymph or some kind of sea sprite, and she’d walked toward him just as she was doing now. Her hair had been loose, just as it was now.
The punch of desire that hit him low and hard was new and very real. So was the sharp need to bury his hands in that hair.
In the daydream, she’d been out of those baggy, drab clothes of hers. He’d imagined her in a bikini, but in the snug jeans and tank top, she looked even sexier. That slender, compact body was more appealing, and those legs were much longer than
he’d imagined.
How often in life was reality better than a fantasy?
She didn’t stop until she was nearly toe-to-toe with him. Though amber-colored sunglasses covered her eyes, he felt it like another little punch in the gut the minute her gaze locked on his.
She cleared her throat. “Would you like to have sex with me?”
Jed felt his mind begin to empty, and he was pretty sure his mouth had dropped open. Talk about fantasies. But this was real, right? He badly wanted to pinch himself to make sure, but he didn’t think he could move his hands. He concentrated on finding his voice.
She certainly wasn’t having any trouble using hers. He could see her lips moving, and through the buzzing sound in his head, some of the words were getting through.
“I’m not crazy—don’t think I am—it’s just that you keep slipping into my thoughts and my dreams.”
He could understand that and even sympathize with the annoyance he heard in her voice. That was real. And so was her scent: sunshine and something that reminded him again of homemade sugar cookies. He wasn’t sure how long he could wait to take a bite of her.
“So…what I’m thinking is we have sex—if you think that you’d be open to that?”
Open? He felt another punch of desire and struggled to focus.
“I’m not suggesting anything long-term. Just a brief liaison.”
“Liaison.” Relief streamed through him that he’d not only found his voice, but he’d managed to get his tongue around the word.
She waved a hand. “I just need to get you out of my system so that I can think again.”
“I’m in your system?” That was good to know, since she was definitely in his. Some of the blood seemed to have returned to his brain because he was thinking again, and he was pretty sure he could move.
Nodding, she drew a deep breath, then hurried on. “I know that you may not be as attracted to me as I am to you, but maybe there’s something that I could do. Some particular fantasy that you’re into. I’d be willing to experiment a—”
“Hold up.” He was tempted to let her go on, just to hear what she’d say, but he was even more tempted to see her eyes. He reached over and pulled off the sunglasses. Her eyes were almond shaped, like a cat’s eye. Funny that he’d never noticed that when she’d worn the owl glasses. And this close, they were the color of rich, dark chocolate flecked with gold.
“Why did you do that?” Zoë asked.
“I was curious about what you would look like without glasses,” he said. “In reality. In my fantasies, you’re always underneath me and I’m inside of you when I take them off of you.”
“Oh.”
He had the satisfaction of seeing her eyes darken and cloud.
She blinked. “Well…then, I suppose…” She blinked again. “Are you saying that you’ll have sex with me?”
She was so damn cute. He had to touch her then, drawing one finger along her jawline as he’d done so often in his fantasies. Her skin was even softer than he’d imagined. “You had me at ‘Would you like to have sex with me?’ Since then, I’ve been fighting off the impulse to drag you to the ground and take you right here.”
She blinked again and glanced back at the houseboat. “That’s probably not a good idea. We could be interrupted.”
“Good point.” Taking her hand, he drew her into the trees.
ZOË SWALLOWED hard as she walked with Jed. She was going to have sex with Jed Calhoun. In a minute, he would sink in. To her. In a minute, they’d actually do it. When he’d touched her, just that gentle stroke of his finger along her jaw, heat had arrowed through her, and her toes had curled. No man had ever made her toes curl before.
So why was there a little knot of panic forming in her stomach? She stopped short, and he glanced down at her.
“Having second thoughts?” he asked.
“No.” She looked up and met his eyes. He suddenly seemed taller. Sunlight was filtered through the leaves overhead, and in the shifting shadows, Jed Calhoun looked more dangerous, too. For some reason, that made her want him even more. The thought occurred to her that she might just be getting in a little over her head.
“What then?” he asked.
She moistened lips that had gone dry and searched for something to say. “Protection.” She tugged her hand away. “I have some condoms in the car.”
Before she could even turn, he had her hand again. “I’ve got it covered.” With his free hand, he patted his pocket. “And that’s not the only thing that’s got you hesitating. We don’t have to do this.”
“Yes, we do.” She met his eyes then. “I don’t think I could stand it if we don’t. It’s just nerves. I haven’t done this in a while.”
“Good.”
She watched in fascination as his lips softened and curved. Something inside of her eased.
“That means we’re in the same boat, because I haven’t done this in a while, either,” he said as he drew her farther into the woods. “But you know what they say? It’s like riding a bike. I’m banking on the fact that it will come back to me.”
They’d reached a small clearing where a hammock swung between two trees. It was so quiet that she could hear leaves rustling overhead.
“I never learned how to ride a bike,” she confessed as nerves fluttered again in her stomach. There’d been too many classes, all that extra math and science that her parents had insisted she take so that she could live up to their expectations.
Jed squeezed her hand. “Not to worry. From the time I was about seven, bikes were my passion. I had dreams of racing in the Tour de France.”
She met his eyes. But he didn’t say any more. He seemed to be waiting for her to make the first move. She moistened her lips and cleared her throat. “I did offer you a fantasy. Just how kinky do you like them?”
He was studying her now, and she could feel the heat rising in her cheeks. What was he seeing?
But she knew the answer to that. He was seeing a plain-looking woman. She didn’t kid herself that in the short amount of time after Sierra’s phone call she’d had time to transform herself.
Suddenly, he wiggled his eyebrows at her. “On a scale of one to ten, ten being very kinky, I’d say I like my fantasies at about a twelve.” Then he shot her a quick grin. “Just kidding. Why don’t we try this?” Leaning down, he gripped her chin and brushed a quick kiss over her mouth.
A dozen little explosions of pleasure shot through her. His lips couldn’t have been touching hers for more than an instant, yet every single atom in her body seemed to be reaching out to him, and a delicious weakness had attacked her limbs. If he hadn’t been holding her up by her chin, she just might have sagged to the ground.
“Truthfully, on the kinky scale, I’m pretty flexible,” he continued. “How about you? You did say that you’d be willing to experiment a bit. Did you mean it?”
When she moistened her lips this time, she tasted him—something dark and male and delicious. She thought that with Jed she just might be able to get to a twelve herself. “Sure.”
“Good. Because I’ve been having these recurring fantasies about making love to you in this hammock.”
Zoë shot the hammock a quick look. Then she checked out the two trees. They looked pretty sturdy. Still…“What if we fall out?”
“We won’t. I’ve explored the possibilities pretty thoroughly in my mind, and I have a plan.”
“Oh.” Zoë drew in a deep breath. “Okay.”
“Great,” Jed said. “But first, we have to strip.”
4
“STRIP?” Zoë swallowed hard.
Jed unsnapped his shorts. “Yeah. It’ll be challenging to get our clothes off once we get in the hammock. It’s pretty close quarters.”
Her gaze froze on his zipper as he lowered it. Then his cutoffs slid to the ground. He wore only the thinnest pair of black briefs. For a moment, she simply stared. If she’d had any doubt at all that he was enthused about her proposition, it was put to rest.
/> “Need some help?” he asked.
“No.” She wasn’t going to think about her body. Just do it. She had a wild side. All she had to do was tap into it. Gripping the edges of her tank top, she pulled it over her head and dropped it on the ground. Then she ordered her hands to unsnap her jeans, pull the zipper. Somehow, she managed to wiggle out of the jeans.
“You don’t wear underpants.”
The hoarseness in his voice had her eyes flying to his. “Yes, I do. Usually.” She just hadn’t been able to put on the sensible cotton briefs she usually wore, and…“I didn’t have time to buy anything sexy.”
He smiled at her in that slow way he had. “My good luck. One of my favorite recurring fantasies is about a girl who never wears underpants.”
She stared at him. “That’s…so adolescent.”
He laughed then, the rich sound filling the air, and Zoë felt some of her tension ease.
He took one of her hands. “Are you telling me that you don’t fantasize about guys who don’t wear undershorts?”
She bit back a smile. “Not yet. And you’re still wearing yours.”
“I want you to pull them off.”
“Another fantasy?”
He winked at her. “You’ve got my number.”
She reached out and slipped her fingers beneath the elastic waistband, then slowly tugged the briefs down until they slid to his feet. She caught herself staring again. “I think I have a fantasy now,” she said.
“Good.”
Before she was quite aware of what he was doing, he’d reached behind her and unfastened her bra. She felt a whisper of cotton on her skin as it slid to the ground.
“Lovely.” With one finger he traced a path along the slope of each breast.
“I’m small,” she said.
“You’re neat,” he corrected.
He slipped his hand into hers again and drew her closer. “Before we get to the kinky part, I want to kiss you.” He tipped her chin up as he lowered his head. “I’ve been thinking about kissing you for a long time.”