by Jo Leigh
“It’s okay, baby.”
“You swear?”
“Yes.”
“That boy…?”
“He can’t see. He wants to, but he can’t.”
“What if he—”
His tongue circling her ear made her lose her place. He teased her until he knew her agitation had nothing to do with the kid with the backpack.
“Amelia,” he whispered again, as her nipples hardened under his thumbs. “That boy isn’t watching us. He’s watching you. He isn’t giving me a thought, unless it’s to hope like hell I have a sudden emergency somewhere in the Bronx.”
“Why?”
He grinned. “Because, my beauty, he wants you.”
She put her hands on his again. “What?”
Jay kissed her gently, moving to the curve where her neck and shoulder met. “He hasn’t seen anything but you since we walked in here. If I wasn’t here, he would be on you in a heartbeat. He’d talk about art, discuss modernism and its impact on society. But what he’d be thinking about was how he was going to get you to go home with him.”
“Don’t tease me.”
“I’m not.” He moved his hands again, this time more blatantly on her breasts, concentrating on her nipples. He squeezed her gently, then, still through the sweater, took the hard nubs between his fingers.
She jerked against him, her hands pressing his, slowing him down, but not by much.
“Relax,” he whispered.
“I can’t do this.”
“You’re not doing anything.”
“I’m letting you touch me.”
“Where? What am I touching, baby?”
“My…”
“Tell me.” He whispered the words but his message wasn’t gentle at all.
“My breasts.”
“There we go.”
She moaned, leaned against him again. “Please.”
“Please what?”
“Stop.”
“Stop what?”
She squeezed his hands. “Not here.”
“Do you trust me?”
She shook her head, and he had to laugh. “Can you try?”
Another long pause. “Yes.”
“I promise you, this is private. No one but us knows a thing.”
“He knows you’re kissing me.”
“People kiss in museums all the time.”
“But—”
“Shh. Just let it go. Close your eyes. I can feel you trembling. I won’t let anyone see.”
“Okay,” she said. “But please…”
“I promise.”
She sighed, and he filled the palms of his hands with her sweet breasts. He shifted his hips to let her know he’d become as hard as her nipples.
Only he heard her moan. Felt her backside rub him in a way that was heaven and hell.
He bent to kiss her again, but he stopped as he saw the boy head their way.
Amelia must have realized something was up, because she tensed, but she didn’t stop him. He felt her struggle in her muscles, in her shallow breaths.
He continued to rub her intimately, gauging their position and the kid’s trajectory.
She stopped breathing altogether a second before his hands dropped to her waist. The boy walked by, pretended to look at the art, glared briefly at Jay, then headed toward the elevator.
She lifted his hands from her stomach and turned around to face him. “Why did you do that? Was it for me?” She nodded in the direction of the elevator. “Or him.”
“Actually, I did it for us—but wasn’t it something to know he wanted you so badly?”
“He didn’t.”
“Why do you think he disappeared like that?”
“He was done with this floor?”
Jay chuckled. “Your radar is broken, that’s all.”
“Radar?”
“Uh-huh. Your roommates have it in spades.”
“You mean guy radar?”
“Yep.”
She opened her mouth, then closed it again. “The only reason he was staring was that you were putting on a show.”
“Nope. He stared at you before I made a move. He wanted you, babe. He still does.”
“That doesn’t happen to me.”
He raised his right brow.
“Okay, so it did happen with you. But you’re the only one.”
“Is that so?”
“Yes. Don’t you think I’d know if someone was flirting with me?”
“You didn’t know it about Brian.”
She opened her mouth again. It was really charming. And sexy. But then, everything she did was sexy.
“Brian did not ever flirt with me.”
“Uh, yeah. He did.”
“When?”
“About the first two months you went to the café.”
“No.” She waved a dismissive hand. “That’s nuts.”
“Ask him.”
“I will not. I would have noticed.”
He put his hand back on her shoulder and guided her toward the next painting. “I saw him do it, baby.”
“When?”
He tried to remember the first time, but it had been too long ago. “Sometime last summer. I was fixing his speakers. He went over to you and offered you a refill.”
“He does that to everyone.”
“No, he doesn’t.”
“Jay, it’s a coffeehouse. Of course he does.”
“Actually, his policy is to wait until the customers come to him. Not the other way around.”
“I’ve seen him—”
“Only to you, sweetheart. No one else gets the personal treatment.”
“That’s impossible.”
He grinned, loving this. Knowing she was loving it, too, even though she’d never admit it. “You’re right.”
Her crestfallen expression made him laugh out loud. “I didn’t mean it like that. I meant I was wrong. He has brought coffee to a couple of other people.”
“Oh.”
“All women.”
“Okay.”
“Beautiful women.”
She blinked a few times, the effort to assimilate what he’d just said evident on her face. She simply didn’t get it. She could hide all she wanted behind awful clothes and pulled-back hair, but she couldn’t change the basic fact that she was a compelling woman. He could understand how a lot of people missed it. She worked so damn hard at hiding, but anyone who paused for even a few minutes would see.
No, that wasn’t true. Men. Men would see. Women wouldn’t want to. Ergo, her roommates.
“I don’t know what to say to that,” she said. “I can’t think why you’d lie to me.”
“I’m not lying. And I wasn’t lying about the kid with the hair in his eyes.”
She sighed. Shook her head. “Why didn’t I know?”
“That’s a good question.”
Her eyes got serious on him. “My upbringing was strict.”
He nodded, urging her to elaborate.
“My aunt, who is a very kind woman, is also a believer in sin. She raised me the best way she knew how, and that was to make sure I didn’t attract any attention. Because we’re all susceptible to the devil’s work. Especially young girls.”
“Do you believe that?”
“Not the same way she does. I believe in right and wrong, and the concept of evil. But I also believe that God made us like this out of love.”
“Like what?”
“Deserving of pleasure. Making love feels good for a reason.”
He smiled, liking her more and more as each minute passed. “Now, that’s what I call a philosophy.”
“Don’t make fun. It’s something I’ve struggled with.”
Putting his arm around her waist, he pulled her close. “I’m not making fun of you,” he whispered, searching those clever eyes of hers. “I think you’re remarkable.”
“Why?”
“Didn’t you believe me before?”
“What do you mean?”
&
nbsp; “When I was at your apartment.”
She shifted her gaze to somewhere near his nose. “I may be naive but I’m not stupid. I knew what was going on.”
“You did, huh?”
“You made your point. You saw how gorgeous Donna and Kathy were, and you wanted them to know you liked me. Mostly, I think you wanted me to feel grateful.”
“No. That isn’t what happened. I’m the one who’s grateful.”
She gave him a half smile. “You’re like abstract art to me. I know there are hidden meanings, but I have no idea if I’m even close to the mark.”
“Don’t try so hard. It’s not that complicated.”
“Of course it’s complicated.”
He shook his head. “It’s as simple as one—” he kissed her on the forehead “—two—” he kissed the tip of her nose “—three.” He kissed her mouth, tenderly at first. But the moment she parted her lips, the need that had been banked all day coursed through his veins like a flash fire.
All his intellectual bull, and his noble efforts to rescue Amelia from a life of celibacy fell away like so much sand in the shower. He wanted her. He’d wanted her since the moment he noticed her. He wanted the dance, too, but that was tiny, infinitesimal compared to his raw desire.
His tongue touched hers, and he moaned. She tasted of wintergreen and she smelled of autumn, and he wasn’t supposed to feel this way. Not this sharp-edged craving.
He was the one in control. He called the shots, made the moves. And he always held back. The one who cares the least has the power. And he’d always had the power.
He pulled away, let her go. He felt blindsided. Tricked. She couldn’t be playing him. Could she?
“What’s wrong?”
No. That was crazy. He knew so much about her. Her insecurities, her loneliness. That powerful erotic nature of hers. It wasn’t possible that it was a setup.
Whatever he’d gotten himself into was his own damn fault. He just had to be more careful, that’s all. Keep a little distance.
“Nothing’s wrong.” He found her hand and squeezed it. “Come on. Let’s go look at some art.”
SHE TRIED TO FOCUS on the gorgeous Van Gogh, she really did. But with Jay standing so very close, it was impossible. What if…?
What if this was real? What if it really was destiny? Why was this so difficult? Her roommates didn’t seem to have any trouble. They went out all the time, and she knew from their conversations that each one of them expected to find Mr. Right, fall in love, get married, etcetera, etcetera. Why didn’t she have that kind of blind faith?
It had something to do with the death of her parents, with Aunt Grace—but she was old enough now to base her decisions on her life now, not on her past.
Maybe her roommates believed in love so firmly that they made it happen.
Maybe she was so sure it couldn’t happen to her that she couldn’t believe Jay no matter what he said.
She sighed.
He rubbed her back, casually, which made it an intimate gesture indeed. She hadn’t been touched like that…ever. It felt so very, very good.
She needed to stop analyzing everything. What earthly good did it do? She never truly understood anyone else. People confused her. Men, especially. Oh, she knew all about testosterone, and how it influenced behavior, but there were still many things that completely baffled her. Bathroom humor. How anyone could think that amusing was a mystery. And ogling breasts. What was the big deal?
“Hey.”
She looked up, a little startled. She’d been in her own thoughts for who knows how long. “Yes?”
“Do you really find this painting that interesting?”
She’d hardly noticed, and when she looked, she had to laugh. It was a white canvas with one beige stripe. That’s it. If it meant something, she didn’t know what. “No, I was off somewhere else.”
“Where?”
She took in a deep breath, let it out slowly. Before she answered him, she headed for the next picture—one of a naked woman…sort of. “I was just thinking about breasts.”
He stopped. Blinked. “Hmm,” he said. “What are the odds?”
She laughed. “I wasn’t thinking about them that way. Well, not directly. Actually, what is it about breasts? What do you men find so captivating about them?”
“Um, we don’t have any?”
“You have nipples.”
“Granted. But our nipples are short and boring.”
“Whereas our nipples dance and sing karaoke?”
He grinned at her. “If they did, honey, you’d be the richest woman in the world.”
“But why? Is it a mother thing?”
Jay shook his head. “You honestly think you’ll ever understand men? Don’t even go there. There’s nothing to get. Men are simple creatures. They eat, they ogle, they sleep, they work, and they do it all again the next day.”
“That’s not true. Men are very complex creatures.”
“Okay, so they’ve got some hidden depths, but honey, I guarantee we’re talking wading pool, not the Marianas trench.”
“That’s ludicrous. What about philosophers? Scientists? Musicians?”
“Not to be too blunt, but every philosopher, scientist and musician you’ve ever heard about had the same priority as the guys who bowl on Thursday nights.”
“And that would be?”
“Sex.”
“What about adventure? Discovery?”
“You have any idea how often Columbus got laid? That’s got to be the best line ever. ‘Come on, baby, and I’ll show you a whole New World.’”
She had to laugh. Oh, there was a bit of truth to what he’d said, but she knew too many men who had so much more to them. The one in front of her, for example. “I think you’re a very complex man.”
His brows raised. “Me?”
She nodded. “Yes.”
“Nah. I’m just another guy on a Harley.”
“Oh, Jay. What am I supposed to do with you?”
He pulled her back into the warmth of his arms. “Take it slow and easy, and no one will get hurt.”
“I’m counting on it,” she whispered, but she wasn’t at all sure he heard her. Maybe she didn’t want him to hear.
AN HOUR LATER, and they still hadn’t gotten off the second floor. In fact, instead of looking at a painting or sculpture, they were standing by the rail, watching the rain pelt the street. Amelia shivered, although she wasn’t chilly.
He must have felt it, because his arm slipped over her shoulders and he hugged her to him. She let her head rest on his chest.
“When you’re ready,” he said, “I’ll get you a cab.”
“Do you want to leave?”
“Nope. But you have to study.”
She hadn’t moved a muscle during the whole exchange. Neither had he. It was amazingly comfortable, and she seriously considered standing there for the rest of her life.
Lightning shimmered, but there was no sound of thunder. Her gaze moved to the ground floor, to the people shaking off wet coats and umbrellas, cursing the rain. She didn’t mind. In fact, she’d always liked thunderstorms. She liked to lie in bed and listen to the roar of the skies.
Wouldn’t it be something to have him next to her? Kissing her? Stroking her thigh, her back? Kissing and kissing, then kissing some more?
He shifted, turning her toward him. “Hey.”
“What?”
“I want to take you home.”
“Oh.”
He cupped her cheeks with his broad hands and kissed her gently on the lips. “I want you in my bed,” he whispered, his lips still touching hers.
“Oh.”
“Naked.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Is that a yes?”
The tip of her tongue glided across his upper lip. But she didn’t answer. Not out loud. But the way she licked his lips… He lived too far away. He’d never last. In fact, if she teased him one more time with that tongue of hers, he’d do something he’d
regret later.
Just as he was about to pull back, she did it again. This time, her tongue darted inside his mouth. He clamped down with his lips, sucked hard, then gave her a dose of her own medicine.
She moaned as they danced a hot tango without moving any other parts of their bodies. While he tortured himself with thoughts of what he was going to do to her.
She took a breath, and he remembered she had school tomorrow. Studying to do. He should let her go, let her get a good night’s sleep.
Yeah. Right.
11
HE WALKED HER DOWN the circular ramp, his mind filled with images of giving her a long leisurely bath, soaping her from head to toe, concentrating on the important parts. Listening to the storm outside, and creating some thunder of his own.
She was so much more than he’d imagined. He should have guessed when he’d read her intricate fantasies. Her imagination was so vivid, so adventurous. He wanted to make every fantasy come true. The bike ride had fizzled, but in her journals several times she’d mentioned making love in a storm.
He picked up the helmets and the jackets. He asked her to wait at the door while he got a taxi. No easy feat in this downpour, but finally, he hailed an empty Yellow Cab. He waved, and she darted through the rain to scramble into the back seat. When he bent to get in, her expression stopped him.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” She scooted over.
“Amelia, talk to me.”
“You’re getting soaked.”
He was. He ducked inside, but told the driver to wait, then turned back to her. “Talk to me.”
She didn’t for a long while, the slap of the windshield wipers almost masking her sigh. “I don’t think I can go with you.”
“You don’t?”
She shook her head. “Not yet.”
He could change her mind. With a touch, a whisper, a kiss. He could get her to say yes. But he wouldn’t. He shouldn’t even try. He’d thought long and hard about her seduction, and taking her to bed now would ruin half the fun. Unfortunately, his cock didn’t listen to reason, and couldn’t care less about slow seductions and finesse.
“I’m sorry.”
“There’s no need to apologize. You just go home and study.”