He rubbed his heart. There was a new weight in there. Hope was a heavy thing. He drew a lightening bolt on the glass and then threw the wet towel on the floor.
Nope, not today. He picked it up, folding it, hanging it up carefully on the rack. If she could change, then so could he.
AMANDA WOULDN’T let him see her until she was dressed, which was bad enough. He was wearing slacks and a button-down shirt. He looked presentable.
And then she came out of the bedroom.
Joe tried to speak, but his tongue was hanging out far enough to lick the floor.
Black skirt.
Little, black skirt.
Heels.
Man-killer, do-me heels.
Her hair rolled down her shoulders in waves, and she was wearing red lipstick. It matched her walls.
A limo was picking them up at six-thirty. Dinner at seven, the hotel at eight. He was supposed to hold out for eight hours and twenty-seven minutes?
He was a dead man.
“Ready to go?” she asked, all casual and cool.
“I think I need to sit down for a minute.” And breathe. God, he couldn’t breathe. He collapsed into a chair.
She pursed her lips and put on more lipstick. “You get some rest, honey. You’re going to need it.”
He was a dead man.
WELL, IT WASN’T tea at the Ritz. Instead she took him to Coney Island. Joe hadn’t been there since he was a kid. But she knew right where she was going. They bypassed the carousel, the games, the concession stands and the bumper cars. Amanda acted just like a woman on a mission and apparently that mission was the Cyclone.
Joe stared up the old roller coaster and smiled. “You want to go on this?”
“You betcha. Chicken?” she asked, hands on hips.
Somehow he didn’t think they were talking about the Cyclone. His blood heated just a bit. Today, they were on his turf. No talk about careers, absolutely nothing but blue skies and black leather. “Never.”
They made it through the line and he watched her climb into the car. The leather hugged curves he didn’t want to remember she had. He settled in next to her, still trying to figure out what she was doing.
The attendant pulled down the bar and she shook out her hair.
There was not one trace of Amanda Sedgewick in her. Somehow she changed into avenging Valkyrie.
Amanda turned to him, not demure, not shy. Confident, bold and more than a little scary.
“Joe, it’s time you learned something about me. You see, under this skirt, I’m wearing Victoria’s Secret Second Skin Satin Hipster in Whisper Pink.”
Joe gripped the bar a little tighter. “Okay.”
“I’ve got seven pairs just like this at home.”
He cut her off. “I don’t think talking about your underwear is a good idea.”
The car started to move away from the platform. “No, actually, it’s an excellent idea. You think of me as Whisper Pink. I’m fragile. The little princess.” She licked her lips.
He looked up at the sky, down at the ocean below them, anywhere but at that succulent mouth. “I don’t think that.”
“You don’t need to lie about it. It’s okay. You’re right.” She reached her hands under her skirt and shimmied in her seat.
Joe simply sat, frozen.
The roller coaster started to climb up the long, long hill, creaking all the way, the chain grating against the steel track. And Amanda slid a pair of Whisper Pink Second Skin Hipsters down her long, long legs.
He whimpered.
“But you see,” she went on, ignoring his heart attack in the making, “I can change. You can change. What we think we are,” she held up the panties like a battle flag, “isn’t always what we have to be.”
Two boys behind them clapped Joe on the back. “Dude!”
The car stopped, poised in midair.
Amanda stared him down.
Joe couldn’t move, couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe.
One pair of Whisper Pink Hipsters billowed in the breeze.
And then the car dropped down the hill, gravity taking over, and the one pair of Hipsters swirled away.
Oh, God. He was trapped on a roller coaster with Amanda in black leather, no panties and a “take-no-prisoners” gleam in her eyes. He felt so sorry for any defense attorney she ever went up against. They were going to lose.
They swirled around loops and up camel-back hills, round a curve, and Joe’s stomach was left somewhere back at that first hill.
Amanda threw her arms in the air and screamed. Joe just gripped the bar in front of him, needing distance, needing to run. But on the Cyclone, a man could go nowhere but down.
Finally, mercifully, they made it back to the station. Joe scrambled out and watched warily as Amanda extended one leg, placing it carefully on the wooden planking. Next came another. Something else. All he needed to do was think of something else.
Anything. He looked up at the skies and a pair of Whisper Pink panties floated in the breeze, drifting out toward the Atlantic Ocean.
He was a dead man.
AMANDA HAD DONE IT. She walked along the boardwalk with a confidence, a flair, a freedom that she’d never felt before. Every inch of her felt alive, the salty sea air teasing her nose. Everywhere she looked there was color, bright Technicolor. Neon-red. Lemon-yellow. Not an ivory, buff, or wheat to be found anywhere.
She ate cotton candy, had their picture taken, bought an I Love N.Y. T-shirt, and all in all was having a grand time.
Joe looked marvelous in the picture. He couldn’t take his eyes off her, and there, in an 8×11, was positive proof that she could stare at anytime she felt like it. She bought two.
“I think I should take up photography, don’t you?” she asked. She liked the idea of capturing them together on paper.
“Hmm?” he said, dragging his eyes from her legs.
She touched his chest with a scarlet-covered nail. “I think I’m going to take up photography.”
“Photography? That’s nice.”
Only one more thing could make this day absolutely perfect.
“Joe?” She stopped walking, admiring the balloons and ribbons that adorned a carnival game. A father started shooting the targets for his little girl. “Have I proven my point yet?”
He stood a careful twenty-four inches away from her. Not far, but not close enough. “What point is that?”
“There’s absolutely no reason in this world why we shouldn’t make love.”
The dazed look faded and he looked at his watch. Six and a half more hours. “No.”
She flipped a dollar down on the counter and the pot-bellied little attendant scooped it up. “I’m thinking it’s time.”
The man winked at her and pressed the button on the water gun in front of her.
Amanda bent over and lined up her sight with the clown targets, her thighs tingling from the warm air. The buzzer sounded and she began to shoot.
“What the hell are you doing?”
“I’m trying to win a prize.”
Joe moved to stand behind her, blocking the view. She wiggled for effect. Obligingly, he moved closer. “Dammit, Amanda.”
Her aim misfired and the water shot into the air. “You could help me.”
He wrapped himself around her, muttering something she couldn’t understand. The bulge that was pressing behind her, she understood quite well. If her smile was a little fundamental, who could blame her? Finally, the buzzer stopped, the little man rang the bell. “We have a winner!”
Amanda picked a fuzzy-headed little troll and shot Joe a grin. “What do we do next?”
“A cold dip in the ocean would fix me.”
Victory was near. “How about the Wonder Wheel instead?”
JOE THOUGHT the cars on the Ferris wheel were four sizes too small. She sat next to him, her legs stretched out, crossing her legs first one way then the other. He tried to keep his thoughts pure, but the little voice inside was head was starting to whisper lewd sug
gestions.
Determined to ignore them, he stuck his head out of the car and watched the streets of Brighton Beach.
This was not what he had planned.
A hand drifted to his thigh.
The world started to spin and he closed his eyes.
“Joe?”
“What?”
“Don’t you like me?”
He pretended ignorance. “I think you’re nice.”
She slid closer, the sound of leather rubbing against the warm metal. “I don’t want to be nice. I don’t want to fragile, I don’t want to be a princess, or even Mary Sunshine.”
Mary Sunshine? “What?”
Her hand rubbed his thigh. He swallowed. Hard.
“I want to be desirable, and sexy and, well, just a little bit bad.”
“Bad?” His voice cracked.
“Joe, I need you.” The hand rubbing continued. Her lips feathered against his ear. “Make love to me, Joe.”
AMANDA HELD her breath. Joe didn’t move. The car continued to rock back and forth, and she wondered if she’d blown it.
“Joe?”
He turned to look at her and she saw such pure pain, she wanted to cry. He didn’t love her, he didn’t want to make love to her. All she’d done was embarrass herself.
And then he moved. His body closed in tight.
“Amanda, I’ve got to ask you something first.”
“Anything,” she whispered, mesmerized by the feverish frustration in his eyes. She covered his heart with her hand. Under her palm, the heavy beat thrilled her.
“Why me? Out of all the guys, why am I the one?”
She bit her lip, not knowing whether she should tell him the truth or even if he’d believe her. What was it about Joe that made her sacrifice her pride? Why Joe? Eggs Benedict, Harry Potter and the freedom to finally discover who she was. The answer was really simple.
“I love you.”
JOE HAD PREPARED himself for a lot of answers, but that wasn’t one of them. He couldn’t take it if this was a joke. He’d thought she’d been playing with him, wanting nothing more than a walk on the wild side. Now all the sudden, the stakes had changed.
“Amanda.” Forty thousand reasons sprang to his lips why they shouldn’t be together, but he didn’t have the heart to say one.
He thought he had everything set up perfectly. A romantic evening, wine, candlelight. Now he was going to screw that up, too.
He took her face in his hands and kissed her. At first, he was hesitant. This was Amanda. Even with a tight skirt, and hooker lips, she was more precious than anyone he’d ever known. He brushed his lips across hers. Once, twice. He tugged gently at her bottom lip, trying not to rush her, trying to hold back. She sighed and her mouth opened beneath him. Sweetly. He stroked her face, her hair. She smelled so good, so warm. Even the smell of leather couldn’t mask her basic scent.
He dove into the kiss, taking his time; they were going nowhere, just riding into the air, a meeting of lips. He felt the tip of her tongue touch his own and he smiled against her mouth. “Not yet. We have all afternoon, and right now, I don’t want to do anything but taste you.”
She groaned and pressed in closer. Up in the air, the world seemed so far away. They were alone in a magical place, and no one could touch them here.
His finger trailed down her neck, down her throat. He felt a shiver. Her skin was so soft, so white. Like marble. He touched her pulse beating in her throat. Yet so alive. Her blood was pumping fast and heavy. For him.
“I’m taking you home when we get down, Amanda. I want to see you, taste you. I’ve been dreaming about you, Amanda. I tried to stay away from you, but I can’t. I’m done fighting this.” He pushed aside her shirt, smiling at the whisper-thin bra that covered her breasts. “You slayed me the first time I saw you without the robe.” He took her nipples in his hands, watching her cheeks flush as he rolled them between his fingers.
“What do you want?” he asked her, bending his head to kiss her once more.
In answer, she climbed in his lap, her legs straddling him, and she started to unbutton his shirt. His body struggled for control, aching to push inside her, right there. When she looked up at him, her eyes were fever-bright. “I want you to touch me. You have to touch me.”
He nearly came. “We’re almost to the ground.”
“I don’t care.”
Truth be told, he didn’t care either, but then the car rolled to a stop.
Quickly, he buttoned up her shirt, his hands fumbling, doing a poor job of it. “We’ll go home.”
She nodded. “Yes.”
THE SUBWAY CAR was packed, and they had to stand. Everyone was heading into the city for a bright Saturday afternoon. Amanda held tight against the pole, the train swaying back and forth. She watched Joe from underneath her lashes, wondering what he was thinking. He met her gaze, his eyes flaring with arousal.
That was a look she understood.
She stood frozen, trapped by the heat in his eyes. His heavy stare wandered over her, touching her lips, her breasts, her thighs.
Slowly, he leaned closer, his arm brushing against her chest. The slight touch was a heady torment, and her breasts swelled, her nipples throbbing against her bra.
Everything inside her felt heavy and full, all rushing down to the apex of her thighs. It was another fifteen minutes to her apartment, and she didn’t think she could wait. She slid against the pole, oh so carefully, but it only made it worse. She heard Joe’s indrawn breath.
A couple of teenagers made their way to the door, pushing Amanda closer to Joe.
He cradled her body with his own, grazing his lips over her neck. She rubbed against him, and gentleman that he was, he locked his hands on her hips and pushed against her. His erection was hard and insistent, and she licked her lips, her eyes drifting shut.
Her legs started to shake, threatening collapse, but he held her tight. There was something incredible about the way he smelled. All musky and male. Each time she moved, he answered. Each time he moved, she moaned.
His hand skimmed lower, flirting between them. A woman with a Bloomingdale’s bag stared at them, before looking away.
Amanda really didn’t care. All she wanted was release from the insistent throbbing between her legs. She rocked again his hand, biting her lip in frustration.
His hand slid between her legs higher and higher, and without hesitation she parted them. Anything.
Her stomach pumped, waiting.
One heartbeat, then two.
One finger slid inside her, then two. His fingers pushed inside her farther, and she leaned against him fully, her legs useless. She shivered, cold, then hot.
His lips brushed against her ear. “You are so wet.”
Oh.
Slowly he pulled his fingers inside and out of her, and her muscles contracted around him, trying to hold him, not wanting him to stop. She closed her eyes, taking deep breaths, feeling the dampness inside her. When she opened her eyes, she tried to focus, but she saw nothing.
She was surrounded by people, but it didn’t register.
He toyed with the outside of her lips, teasing, tickling. “No,” she whispered.
“You don’t like that, hmm?”
Once more, he put his fingers inside her, pushing upwards. He went deeper this time as his long fingers circled, sensing the coils of tension racking her body. She tried to keep her hips still, keep them from following the rhythm of his hand, riding to meet him. But she couldn’t.
He kissed her neck, whispering in her ear, in slow, exquisite detail exactly what he was going to do to her. What he wanted to do with her right here. Right under the watchful eyes of everyone around them.
Oh.
She chewed on her lip, ready to scream. When his thumb brushed against her, she felt her muscles shake and spasm. He covered her mouth with his own. That was all she could take. She closed her eyes, and watched the world shatter.
And he kissed away her cries.
13<
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THEY MADE IT to her lobby, made it to her elevator. He took her keys and undid the locks, and then Hallelujah, they were inside.
He pulled up her skirt, her hands fumbling with his fly.
“Condom,” he said, just as she was pulling down his zipper.
“Bathroom.”
“Don’t move.”
She stayed there, plastered against the door, waiting. “Hurry.”
“Where is it?”
She started to count. “Top drawer, left-hand side.”
One. Two. He was back. “I can’t wait,” he said, taking her lips in a quick kiss.
She fumbled with his briefs. “Now.”
He sheathed himself with shaking fingers. “I wanted this to be slow,” he said, lifting her.
She wrapped her legs around his waist, needing to feel him inside her. “Later.”
He took one step forward, braced her against the door, she locked her hands around his nape.
And then he plunged inside her.
JOE STAGGERED for a second, amazed by the sheer overwhelming pleasure of being surrounded by Amanda. Warm, drenching pleasure. There was no ice or coldness in her, only a heat that made him frantic. He needed to find control, but all his control was gone.
Now she was his. Finally. Her hips ground against him, and he started to move. Thrusting inside her, deeper, as if he could touch her heart.
His eyes held her crystal-blue gaze, unflinching. The way she looked at him, with need and something more, made anything possible. For now, nothing could touch them.
She was his.
He drove inside her, over and over, determined to please her. In this, there would be no one but him.
Joe kissed her again, her tongue tangling with his, her breathing as ragged as his own.
Over and over.
Her head rolled to one side, her hair falling across his arm, just like his dreams. She bit her lip, and still he moved.
Over and over. Not yet.
A moan of surrender broke her lips. She was close. Her nails were biting into his neck, but there was no pain. Instead, he moved faster, harder.
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