Unsuitable

by Lavinia Kent

  “And are there activities where you don’t need to know your partner?”

  It was his turn to smile. “I’m sure I could think of something, but I’m having a hard time thinking of anything right now, much less anything clever to say. And of the activities we’re talking about, I always like to know who I’m with. I always have—even when I was younger I had no desire for one-night stands.”

  Her face froze. “Younger? When was that, a year ago?”

  Damn, he certainly hadn’t meant to go there. She could be so touchy. “Oh, at least two. But seriously, Jordan, I’ve always known what I liked, what I wanted.” His eyes roamed her near-naked body. At some point they would have to get rid of those panties.

  She drew in a deep breath, her breasts rising and falling, drawing his attention.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “I cannot deny that I’m sensitive on the subject. I’m uneasy with the age difference between us, with the thought I might still be your teenage fantasy. I’m working to get over it, but it keeps sliding back.”

  “Whereas I only see you and how beautiful you are. But we can take this slow. I can give you a chance to know the real me, to see that I see you as you are now.”

  Her eyes closed. A shadow passed over her face. He wished he knew what she was thinking.

  Her head shook slowly and her eyes opened. She stared at him for a moment and that slow smile returned, but this time with a different air, something deep, mysterious and just a little dirty. “Do you know what I was imagining as I made myself come? I was thinking about you and all the things I wanted you to do to me, right here in front of this window. I couldn’t decide if I wanted to be standing, my breasts pressed flat against the glass, or if you should bring that chair over here and bend me over it while I stare out at the city.”

  And there his dick was again, back to full attention. “We could try both.”

  “Hmm, I don’t know, at some point I do want to discover your bed. I’m very curious to see if it’s all black and sleek or if you’re a satin sheet type of guy.”

  He barely repressed a shudder. “No. I always feel like I’m going to slide off and most of them leave you horribly clammy and sweaty. But I’m more than happy to show you my bedroom.” He stood and held out an arm.

  She took a step and then stopped, turned back to the window. “No, I don’t think I’m quite ready to leave here. I’m still enjoying the view.” She moved until she stood facing out, a scant inch from the glass. Her long dark hair curling halfway down her back. The small lace panties cupping the heart of her butt.

  If that wasn’t an invitation he didn’t know what was.

  He moved to stand behind her, not quite touching. He reached down and hooked a finger in each side of her panties. Her skin shivered beneath his touch. His mouth grew dry.

  He bent his neck and rested his head against hers, inhaling the slight rose fragrance of her shampoo. “I could stand like this forever.”

  “I do hope not.” She arched her back so that her ass brushed the fly of his pants.

  He pressed forward, feeling the cheeks of her ass surround him. It was tempting to yank down her panties and press into her. He knew she was wet and ready. All he’d have to do was…And he didn’t think she was opposed to the idea either. Everything she did was screaming for him to proceed—and to proceed fast and hard.

  Grabbing hold of her panties, he started to pull them back and forth, working the tight fabric against her.

  A low moan.

  He pulled harder. A louder moan.

  Releasing one side of the black lace, he slipped his hand forward, cupped her. She was damp, so damp. Rubbing his finger back and forth he worked the lace against her. Her ass curved farther back against him and he pressed forward.

  His fingers moved. Her ass moved. His hips thrust forward.

  “Don’t make me come again. Not yet,” she gasped, even as she moved against his fingers. “I want you in me. I want you with me this time.”

  “And do you always get what you want?” He nuzzled her hair aside and bit lightly at her neck.

  “Please,” was her only reply.

  Fuck. He needed it, too. His mind was filled with all the things he wanted to do to her, all the ways he wanted to position her. He hadn’t even sucked her breasts yet tonight.

  His cock, however, had other ideas.

  With one quick motion he yanked her panties down, releasing them as they reached her knees, letting them drop to the floor.

  She spread her legs farther, arching her back fully. Her face and breasts pressed flat against the glass. He wanted to step back, wanted to admire the image she must present. He couldn’t imagine anything hotter, but again his cock cried out in protest. It had no intention of pulling back for longer than it would take to thrust forward.

  A reach in his pocket. A quick pull at his belt. A single button. A zipper. The rip of foil.

  He was free. Warm flesh on warm, slick flesh.

  He eased between her buttocks. Slipped a hand back to her front, slipping between her damp curls.

  She stretched on her toes as he found her clit. He pressed back, bending her farther.

  There, almost there. A single pull back. A thrust forward. A slide between damp nether lips.

  Fuck. He really could do this all day.

  He slid home.

  Her body tightened about him and then relaxed.

  Pull back, ease forward. His fingers worked in rhythm with his hips.

  He stared forward, saw her half reflection in the glass. The shimmer of her perfect face lit with the lights of the city. He stared through her, out at the wide expanse of the city line against the endless sky.

  In. Out. Better and better.

  She was almost whimpering now. Her hips pressing back against him urgently, then surging forward to meet the press of his fingers.

  He couldn’t take much more.

  He felt it build, felt the cry rise within him.

  He surged forward, pinched her clit hard. Felt her convulse, felt her body shatter. Then he gave in to the cry of her name, to the beauty of the dark sky, to the endless swirl of stars.

  Chapter 14

  She awoke perfectly calm and more rested than she had been in months. Turning on her side, Jordan pulled the crisp white cotton sheet up to her chin and stared about the room. Like the main rooms of the condo this one had a wall of glass, although there was a museum-quality sheer that could be lowered to keep out the morning light. It was up now and the first glimmers of sunshine were highlighting the windows on the buildings far across the way.

  She smiled and stretched, though in truth, she was waiting for regrets to form.

  Not a single one did. Well, except for some regret that they’d never managed to involve the chair in their play.

  Clay lay beside her, his large body taking up far more than his share of the bed. He was definitely not a man used to sleeping with someone. His mussed hair sprang out in all directions and more than a little stubble dotted his chin. It was an incredibly sexy look. She was finding it hard to resist the desire to reach out and stroke that hairy chin. Her lips were slightly bruised from its brush and she could not help wondering what it would feel like rubbing other parts of her body.

  She was going to have time to find out. She was giving herself time.

  This truly was exactly what she needed.

  Another stretch.

  She wondered if he had coffee in the kitchen or if he normally made a quick Starbucks run. She could barely get out of bed without a cup, but from talking to friends she knew that even the simple making of a cup of coffee was becoming a lost art. Granted, some of her friends were used to being waited upon and she wasn’t sure that they even knew coffee had to be made.

  She stared at Clay for another moment, enjoying his rough good looks, giving h
erself the chance to linger and study him as she had not on that first hurried morning. It really was unfair that any man should be so good-looking and that was only judging him from the top of his broad shoulders and up. It was a pity he wasn’t sleeping with the sheet about his waist—or completely absent.

  Coffee.

  Even a man of his caliber couldn’t keep her mind off hot brew for long.

  Humming softly to herself, she rose from the bed naked and reached out to pick up his shirt from where he’d dropped it when they entered the bedroom. Pulling it on, she fastened a single button just above the navel and walked out toward the kitchen.

  Coffee.

  He did have a kitchen, didn’t he? It was the one room she didn’t remember seeing last night. If he didn’t, she was going to have to wake him and send him out for coffee. There were some things in life that were simply a necessity.

  Ah. There was the kitchen, tucked around that corner. It wasn’t large, but it was fully equipped and it looked used. Did he know how to cook? Or perhaps he had someone who worked for him. She stopped and listened, her fingers fastening a few more buttons. Nothing. Surely he would have warned her if someone was expected this morning.

  And it was early. Although she imagined he was an early riser. He didn’t seem to be the type to lie abed when there was work to be done.

  She sighed in relief. There was a Keurig on the counter—not her favorite, but more than adequate. Now, where were the pods? There they were. As well as a French press and a small stove-top espresso maker. Plus several kinds of beans. And a mill. The man did like his coffee, perhaps even as much as she did.

  Now if only…ah, there it was. A can of condensed milk. She didn’t use it often, but she reckoned she’d burned off a few extra calories last night. Quickly she ground some dark, oily beans and filled up the espresso maker. She was tempted to make a cup with the Keurig while she waited, but the anticipation of thick black brew cut with the sweet milk was too tantalizing. There was nothing like that first taste of coffee in the morning.

  Her mouth was watering already.

  With the maker on the stove, she leaned against the counter and let her thoughts collect, wondering only a little why Clay had not yet joined her. The coffee mill had not been quiet.

  She still felt no regret, no sense of trepidation.

  She had been confidant in her decision, but had not been sure how she would feel this morning.

  She felt great, not dancing in the halls great, but a deep, peaceful, quiet great. It was quite unexpected.

  Everything felt right. It was not a feeling she was used to.

  The pot began to gurgle and she breathed in the wonder of the smell of brewing coffee.

  Yes, the world was right, exactly right.

  “Did you make me one?” Clay’s voice echoed from the hallway. “There is no heaven as great as waking to the smell of coffee. Even when I was young and didn’t drink it, I knew it would be a good day if that smell was the first thing to greet me in the morning.”

  And wasn’t that charming? She was reminded of how little she knew of Clay. Had he loved coffee as a teenager? She couldn’t remember, assuming she had ever known.

  He came around the corner, striped white-and-blue cotton pajama pants hanging low on his hips and that wondrous chest bare. She stared for a moment, blinking like an owl.

  “I didn’t think you’d own pajamas.” The words were out before she had time to think.

  “Will it make you feel better if I say I don’t often wear them? I have them mostly for lounging about the house on Saturday mornings when I don’t feel like getting dressed. Even though there’s nobody else here, I’ve never been one to wander about nude.”

  “I’m the same way, although I think it has more to do with my breasts than anything.” She glanced down. “I’m more comfortable in a bra most of the time, although if I’m home it’s usually a stretchy one.” That was certainly more than she’d meant to share.

  “You’re not wearing one now. And you weren’t at the museum either.”

  She felt a light flush rise up her chest. “It was impossible with the dress and I really did love it. As for now, I’ve always loved the idea of wearing a boyfriend shirt. I think this is my first time doing it.” That was another thing she hadn’t meant to share. She turned away from him. She really needed that coffee.

  Opening a cabinet, she pulled out a couple of mugs from where she’d seen them earlier and then reached for the can of milk. A moment later, she was lifting the mug to her lips, pausing to pull in a deep breath, before lightly touching it to her lips, letting only the barest taste in. Her eyes closed as she savored.

  “Fuck.” Clay’s voice had her eyes snapping wide open. “I never thought of coffee as sexy, but I think I’m going to be dreaming of this moment for months to come. The expression on your face…”

  She took another sip, savored some more, although it was never quite the same as that first sip. “Can I pour you some?”

  “Please.”

  She poured the cup, lifted her head. “How do you take it?”

  “Normally black, but let me try it like yours. I’d like to know what put that expression on your face.”

  She raised a brow. “If you take it black then why do you have condensed milk? Do you bake?”

  A confused look passed over his face. “No, why? I can do a decent steak and potato or grilled fish. I’ve even been known to roast a chicken, but I doubt I’ve ever baked anything—unless you count the cookie dough that comes in a tube.”

  That brought a smile to her lips. “Then why the milk?”

  He shrugged. “I have no idea. I do cook, but somebody else takes care of the basic groceries.”

  That fit. Although she was pleasantly surprised that he cooked. “Next time you’ll have to make me dinner. I’ve a real fondness for steak and potatoes.” And wasn’t that daring, assuming there would be another time.

  His eyes ran down her body, lingering on her legs. “I do like a woman who actually eats.”

  She laughed quietly. “I definitely do that.” She handed him his cup.

  He took a deep sip. “Wow. I can’t say that I’d want this every day, but wow.”

  “I warn you, the sugar may have you bouncing off the walls.”

  “And how did you know I bounce?”

  “I remember…” Her voice trailed off. Her mind recalled a forgotten memory of him finishing a whole plate of cookies and then running about like a hellion, tossing Amelia into the pool and screaming like a peacock. And for once, the memory wasn’t forcing her back, giving her regrets.

  For a moment they were both silent. She took another sip of coffee, barely tasting it, and walked past him to stare out the window.

  * * *

  —

  He watched her face, waiting for it to change as she remembered. Nothing happened. She still seemed calm, not announcing that it had all been a mistake. And wasn’t that a relief. At some point they would need to talk about it more, but if he pressed it now that might drive her further away and that was definitely not what he wanted. Especially not now when he’d finally gotten her talking about the next time.

  He drank his coffee; damn, it was good. He absolutely could get used to the sugar kick. He took another sip and stared at her silhouetted by the window. He’d never been crazy about women wearing his clothes. Yes, there was something sexy as hell about a woman in a man’s shirt, but he’d always recognized the ownership claim in such a simple gesture. With Jordan, however, he found he liked it quite a bit.

  And that wasn’t even thinking about how she looked. The woman had legs that went on forever, long and tanned even at this time of year. And he’d realized she had absolutely nothing on under that shirt. He’d caught a distinct glimpse of dark curls and now as she stood facing out his mind filled with pushing up the shirt
and admiring that ass. He’d had her against the glass last night, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t do it again.

  Another gulp of coffee. Yep, that was sweet, but Jordan tasted far sweeter.

  He set down the cup and stepped forward.

  * * *

  —

  Jordan strode about her living room, the wood floors cool beneath her bare feet. Did they need to be swept? Was that grit she was feeling? Perhaps she should…

  Stop it. Stop making excuses.

  It was time to call Amelia. She had put it off long enough. By true logic, her stepdaughter had no say in who she dated, even if it was her own long-ago boyfriend, but that felt wrong. Amelia might no longer have any interest in men, but that didn’t mean that she wouldn’t be hurt.

  She’d been so devastated by the breakup. It didn’t completely make sense with the way things had worked out, but when did feelings make sense? Jordan knew hers certainly didn’t.

  She picked up her phone. Stared, took a deep breath and pushed the buttons.

  One ring.

  Two.

  Amelia’s voice filled her ear. “Hi, this is me. Leave me a message after the beep. If this is a wedding vendor please try calling my work number as well, 555-323-4224.”

  Jordan hung up.

  Then redialed. “Hi, hon, this is your evil stepmother, give me a call. There’s something I want to talk to you about. Or maybe I should say someone. I met Clay Windsor again recently and I’d like to ask you about something. Give me a call. Bye.”

  She set the phone down on the counter and sighed.

  It buzzed almost instantly. A text from Amelia.

  Important? I’m at the doctor.

  It was important, but hardly urgent. It can wait.

  U sure?

  Yes. Why are you at the doctor? All fine?

  A pause. Jordan tapped a nail. Was Amelia debating how to answer?

  Another buzz. Sorry, busy for a moment getting a shot. All fine. More later.

  And that was that.