Just A Kiss: A Club Temptation Novella (Club Temptation Collection)

by J. H. Croix

  All over an email exchange.

  Yet again, the time between my email and hers felt long. But the distinctive chime eventually came, and I saw the banner with her email address.

  With George still purring away beside me, I tapped to open it.

  Eva: On fire?

  Although I could’ve interpreted what Eva was doing as calculated teasing, I knew better. That just wasn’t her personality at all. She was remarkably straightforward. Although I had limited my interactions with her when she was an intern—as Brian had pointed out, I totally had the hots for her—I paid close attention during any communications. I had also followed her, as I did anyone who worked for us after they left, and she was well-known in the business world for being straightforward and honest. Because she was a woman, some people took that as aggressive. Women just couldn’t win sometimes.

  I typed my reply. Yes, kissing you set me on fire. Way more than nice. Can I see you before Friday?

  Eva: Friday is tomorrow.

  There she went being straightforward. I chuckled.

  Zane: So it is. Forgive me for losing track. I’ll see you at seven.

  Eva: Does it matter what I wear? I’m not sure what restaurant we’re going to.

  The feel of Eva’s bottom under my palm and that silky and twirly skirt she’d been wearing the other night came to mind. My cock swelled to an ache.

  Zane: No. Wear whatever you’d like.

  I congratulated myself on my restraint.

  Eva: But is it a fancy restaurant?

  Zane: It’s Thai food. It’s not that fancy. I want you to be yourself.

  Eva: Okay. Good night, Zane.

  Zane: Good night, Eva.

  Chapter 7

  Eva

  Smoothing my hands over my gauzy skirt, I looked myself over with a critical eye. I was wearing a comfortable skirt because I was nervous, but I thought it was cute. Sarah assured me it was cute. I had actually just texted her a photo of my outfit. She couldn’t come over and help me get dressed tonight because she was headed to dinner with her parents.

  My skirt was royal blue, and it was spring in Seattle, so I could expect it to get chilly this evening. I was wearing a pair of black boots that fit my calves and were comfortable with a pair of stockings. A cream-colored camisole with a matching silk blouse over it topped off my look. My dark hair was straight and boring. It was thin and shiny, but the streaks of burgundy I’d whimsically added here and there were the only thing exciting about my hair. As I stared at myself in the mirror, I contemplated whether I should try makeup. I decided against it, if only because I was afraid I would screw it up.

  With a swipe of lip gloss on my lips, I decided I had to be ready. I didn’t have time to think further because the doorbell rang.

  “Shit, shit, shit,” I muttered as I grabbed my jacket, a lightweight number that belted around my waist, and hurried into the living room.

  My pulse was racing, and I forced myself to stop and take a breath. I didn’t need to answer the door all breathless and ridiculous. As I took another breath, I felt George staring at me. I almost said something, but I worried Zane might be able to hear me through the door. He didn’t need to know I was a crazy person who talked to my cat.

  Crossing the room, I swung the door open. The moment I did, my breath caught in my throat and my belly did a tickly flip. Zane looked good enough to eat.

  The setting sun glinted on his dark hair, and his blue eyes were bright when they met mine. He was wearing jeans that fit his muscled legs like a lover. Atop that, he wore a fitted Henley shirt that did nothing to disguise his build. I couldn’t imagine Zane working out at a gym, but clearly, the guy did something to stay in shape.

  I didn’t realize I hadn’t spoken yet until Zane said, “Hey.”

  I swallowed and tried to take a breath, although my lungs were struggling at their one and only job. “Hey.” That came out squeaky. “Are you early?”

  Zane’s lips twitched, his eyes still on me. “Maybe a few minutes. Are you ready?”

  I was about to say yes when I realized I didn’t have my purse. “Just about. Come on in. I need to get my purse.”

  He stepped in and shut the door behind him, waiting right there as I hurried back into my bedroom to snatch my purse off my dresser. When I returned to the living room, George was winding around Zane’s calves, and Zane leaned over to pet him.

  “What’s your cat’s name?” he asked as he scratched between George’s ears.

  “George.”

  Zane straightened quickly. “You’re kidding.”

  “Uh, no. That’s his name.”

  George continued his tight loops around Zane’s legs. Zane stared at me for a long moment. “That’s weird. My cat’s name is George too.”

  “You’re kidding!”

  “Definitely not. Although I didn’t name him. I got him from my grandmother after she passed away.”

  My heart gave an achy beat. Oh, my God. Zane had his grandmother’s cat. That made him seem kind of sweet, and I didn’t know what to think about him being hot and sweet.

  “I’m glad you could take care of her cat, and I’m sorry to hear she passed away.”

  “Thank you.” He inclined his head slightly. “She lived a good life, but I still miss her. I promised her I’d take care of George.”

  We stood there quietly for a moment, just staring at each other. It felt as if the air around us filled with hot sparks.

  “Are you ready to go now?” Zane finally asked.

  Leaning back in my chair, I put my hand over my belly. “I think I ate too much.”

  Zane’s eyes lifted as he set his napkin down. “Same here.” When his lips spread in a slow smile from one corner to the other, I felt my own automatically curling in return.

  Zane knew how to take a woman on a dinner date. As promised, he’d taken me to a delicious Thai restaurant. Then he insisted we come to this dessert café recently opened by a friend of his. I’d gotten vanilla flan with a raspberry glaze while Zane had gone for a rich chocolate mousse.

  The friend in question, Drew, stopped by our table. His brown eyes twinkled as he glanced back and forth between us. “How was it?” He lifted our empty plates and set them on the tray he had resting on his forearm.

  “Absolutely amazing. That was some of the best flan I’ve ever had,” I replied.

  His eyes flicked to Zane. “And you, my friend?”

  “Amazing. You do dangerous things with chocolate.”

  Drew chuckled. “My goal is to do dangerous things with every dessert. I hope you two come back soon.”

  “Of course, we will,” Zane replied as Drew turned, casting me a quick wink before moving to check on another table.

  “How in the world does he stay in shape and run a dessert café?” I mused.

  Zane shrugged. “Good question. I do know he’s a marathon runner. That’s how we met.”

  “You run marathons?” I didn’t even try to hide my surprise.

  Zane shook his head, replying, “I ran one marathon. I don’t have time for the training. Drew and I met running cross-country together in high school.”

  “Where did you go to high school?”

  “Right here in Seattle. Rumor has it you did too.”

  “I did. I was born and raised here. But I think you know that.”

  My cheeks flushed again, and my eyes dropped from Zane’s. He had no problem with sustained eye contact, but sometimes, it was more than I could handle.

  My gaze was drawn downward to where he was folding a napkin into a shape. While I should’ve been curious about what he was doing, I got hung up on his hands instead. He had long, nimble fingers and strong hands. Everything about him screamed strong and masculine. I had a flash of memory—the feel of his palm sliding down my back and cupping my bottom last week. Immediately following that was the recollection of the hard, hot length of his arousal pressed against me when he kissed me.

  I forced my eyes up, only to run right into his ga
ze again. I had no idea how much time had passed, maybe a few seconds.

  He picked up the thread of our conversation. “I did know you grew up here. Although it wasn’t on your resume when you applied for your internship, your company has made a little splash, and you’re Seattle’s tech sweetheart since you’re from the area.”

  I rolled my eyes. “I’m nobody’s sweetheart.”

  Zane watched me quietly. He didn’t speak, but his eyes said all kinds of things. Butterflies took flight in my belly, and my pulse began humming along. My lack of experience with men was biting me in the ass. Who knew I could get all hot and bothered just from a look?

  My eyes dropped again, landing on whatever he was doing with the napkin. “What are you making?”

  When I mustered the courage to withstand the heat of his gaze, I looked up.

  “A bird.” He lifted the neatly folded napkin. “Here.” He handed it across the table to me.

  “I don’t want to mess it up.” He placed it lightly on my open palm. It looked like a tiny seagull.

  “It’s only meant to be temporary. It is a napkin, after all.”

  “Aside from running one marathon, is origami another one of your talents?”

  Zane held my eyes for a hot, liquid moment. “Maybe. It’s something I do when I need to keep my hands occupied.”

  “You need something to do with your hands now?” I asked.

  “Well, yes. I’m trying to be appropriate.”

  With his eyes like liquid fire on me, my breath hitched, and heat spun through me. Next thing I knew, he slid around the curved booth in the corner of the café until I felt his thigh flush against mine.

  I was silent—not by calculation but by sheer desire overload. Was that a thing? I supposed it was with Zane.

  When I dared a glance, I found his gaze waiting, that intense blue darkening as we looked at each other. Then I felt his palm slide on my thigh. Perhaps I didn’t want him to be appropriate.

  Chapter 8

  Zane

  Eva was fucking stunning. She was all the more intoxicating simply because she didn’t try too hard. The lip gloss I’d wanted to kiss off had disappeared while she savored her food. She wore another skirt that I wanted to flip up so I could see what kind of panties she wore underneath. All evening, with her camisole tight across her breasts, I thought about teasing her nipples.

  As hard as the spurs of need were driving me, I didn’t want to rush. I didn’t want to blow through her guard and ruin this. I heard the hitch of her breath in her throat and watched her lashes sweep against her cheeks when she dipped her head to look down at where my palm rested on her thigh. I could feel the heat of her skin through the gauzy fabric and wondered what her bare skin would feel like under my touch.

  I’d been holding my need at bay for most of the evening, willing my arousal to cool whenever I had to stand so that I didn’t embarrass myself. I was accustomed to being in control, and distantly shocked at how little I had around Eva.

  I slid my hand down toward her knee and back up. When I felt the garter underneath her skirt, a hot shot of blood arrowed to my groin. Not happening tonight, I told myself. As desperately as I wanted Eva, I was not going to take things all the way tonight. I sensed she had formed expectations about me, and I intended to prove them wrong.

  “Eva,” I murmured, my voice a little tighter than I wished. My control was stretched, so I could only manage so much.

  Those lashes swept up, and her big brown eyes met mine. Her eyes searched my face, and I wondered what she was looking for. Meanwhile, I slid my hand down her thigh again, this time catching the hem of her skirt.

  Her tongue darted out, sliding from one corner of her bottom lip to the other. Her pupils were dilated, and I could see the rapid flutter of her pulse in her neck. I didn’t realize I was moving closer until her sweet, tangy scent hit me like a fucking drug. I inhaled deeply as my lips met her skin, right where her pulse beat.

  She sucked a breath in, and I forced myself to lift my head. It was a physical effort because my body was so reluctant to leave the taste of her. My fingers met her sheer stockings, and I slowly walked them up her thighs, feathering along the inside edge. All the while, her eyes held mine. I felt as if I was falling, diving into this bottomless pool of need and want, tangled up inside a puzzling wish to please her beyond just physically.

  I paused when my first fingertip landed on her bare skin. “You can tell me to stop.”

  Her nostrils flared when she took another breath. “Okay.” That one word came out breathy, and it was like the lash of a whip on the flanks of my need. I was already racing, the pace so fast I might stumble.

  “Does okay mean you want me to stop?” I pressed because I needed to know.

  She shook her head, just barely. I lifted my hand lightly and placed one finger at a time on the silky soft skin of the inside of her thigh. As if playing scales on the piano, I moved my touch up purposely. I paused right when I met the juncture where her thigh creased, almost growling out loud when I felt her skin pebble under my touch.

  “What are you doing?” she whispered.

  “I want to make you come.”

  So much for taking things slow.

  Her pretty brown eyes widened, and her mouth parted slightly as she took in a gulp of air. “Here?”

  She finally broke free of my gaze to look around the intimate café. The place was busy, the noise masking any conversation we were having. And Drew, because he was my friend, had given us a private booth tucked in a corner with nothing but a little light above us. If anyone were to look in our direction, they would see me beside her, talking in a low voice and nothing more. A tablecloth obscured anything my hands were doing underneath the table.

  When her eyes made their way back to me, I said, “No one can see.” My hand remained completely still. “I’ll stop,” I added when I saw a twitch of worry between her brows.

  I began to move my hand away, but then she shook her head sharply. “Don’t stop.”

  Well, then. There was nothing I loved more than permission. This time, I let my hand slide down to cup her mound. “Open your knees,” I whispered in her ear.

  I couldn’t resist dropping a kiss just behind her ear and loved the way I felt her body tremble. She parted her knees a little bit more, and I let my fingers slide down to press over the very heart of her. It was hot, and her panties were damp.

  Although I didn’t doubt she wanted this, I was acutely aware we were in a public place, and I couldn’t let this drag out forever. I scraped that damp silk out of the way and didn’t even bother to hide my groan when my fingers found her slick core. I dabbled for just a moment, teasing a little bit and loving the way her hips rocked into my touch and her breath came in sharp little pants.

  Then I sank one finger inside her, not waiting to add another as she gasped, and her pussy rippled around my touch. I leaned down farther to press another kiss on the side of her neck as I began fucking her slowly with my fingers.

  “Zane.” Her voice was frayed as her hips moved with the rhythm of my fingers.

  “Yes, Eva?”

  She started to say something, but then her release struck, and her entire body went taut before she shuddered. She began to make a sound, and I immediately fit my mouth over hers, catching her whimpers in our kiss.

  Chapter 9

  Eva

  My knees were liquid as Zane escorted me out of the café. Somehow, my manners helped me to form words and politely thank Drew for the delicious dessert. I even managed to assure him I would be back.

  I distantly wondered if he could tell I was practically drunk on pleasure. My body was still reverberating with the echoes of it. Zane’s hand rested between my shoulder blades as we walked through the door out onto the sidewalk. A light mist was falling, the cool drops striking my heated cheeks.

  His hand slid down my back to curl around the edge of my hip. His touch felt both possessive and comforting. I wanted to lean into him. My eyes had just bee
n opened shockingly wide when it came to sensual pleasure, and we hadn’t even had sex. We were both fully dressed, and he’d just given me the best orgasm I’d ever had in my life.

  “Danny’ll be here in just a minute.”

  I felt the rumble of Zane’s words when he leaned down to whisper gruffly just above my ear. Then he dusted a kiss on the side of my neck. It was electrifying, the sensation zipping through my body and swirling into the others. I had no idea I could feel this much.

  My last boyfriend, a friendly, smart guy who I liked, had never even managed to bring me to orgasm. I did have a vibrator that was so good I’d occasionally wonder if it ruined me for regular sex, considering that penises didn’t anatomically vibrate.

  “Here he is,” Zane murmured.

  I simply followed where his coaxing touch on my hip led me.

  Once we stood from the table, Zane had reverted to being coolly polite, although he kept his touch on me the entire drive home. His palm was like a brand on my thigh as we rode through the drizzle and darkness.

  He kissed me good night at the door with just a tease of his tongue before he lifted his head. “Good night, Eva.”

  His eyes searched my face, and I had to clear my throat to speak. “G’night.”

  I was wrestling with an actual physical, magnetic pull to him. My body yearned for him, for more.

  After a moment had stretched, Zane asked, “Are you free next Friday?”

  My head bobbed up and down in an instant, and it took me two tries to respond verbally. “Yes,” I finally said, too breathlessly for my comfort.

  “Perfect. Can I pick you up a little earlier, say six?”

  “Yes,” I managed again.

  Apparently, mind-bending orgasms left me capable of nothing more than one-word sentences.

  He dipped his head once more, this time brushing what I imagined he intended to be a chaste kiss across my lips. Except that wasn’t what I wanted. After murmuring something incoherent, I reached up and slid my hand around his neck to pull him closer.