Animal Attraction (San Francisco Dragons Book 2)

by Kate Willoughby

  That got a laugh out of him. “I cleaned it up because I knew you were coming over.”

  “Which brings us back to the original topic—that I’m not a guest and I’m not sleeping in your bed.”

  Yet.

  “Oh, you mean the bed that this remote is for?” He held up the small black device that he hoped would sway her to his way of thinking.

  Giving him a reproachful glance, she didn’t take it. “Your bed has a remote? Don’t tell me it vibrates.”

  “Lay down and you’ll see.”

  She looked dubious, but she took off her cute little cowboy boots and got onto the bed, folding her hands over her stomach. He wished he could see her naked with just the boots on.

  “I got this adjustable bed back when I tore the ligaments in my ankle and I needed to elevate it. Check it out.” He pressed the Zero G button. This raised the head and foot of the bed so that all the pressure would come off her back.

  “Oh my God, Spencer, this is heavenly. And is this one of those memory foam mattresses? It feels amazing.”

  “Yes.”

  She pursed her lips and gave him a sidelong glance. “I might have changed my mind.”

  When he pressed the massage button, she gave a little jump, but then a slow smile spread across her face. “Oh, wow.” She glanced at him. “You play dirty.”

  He grinned in response. “You haven’t even seen the bathroom yet.”

  When she did, she gasped. He was very proud of the bathroom. It had cost him a fortune, but it was worth it. He spent a lot of time in locker room showers. They were always clean and well-stocked, but generic and visually unappealing. When he moved into this house, he’d known right away he wanted to remodel the master bath, and he did his homework on the internet before hiring someone. He’d basically found a picture of what he wanted and told the contractor, “This is what I want.”

  It was three times the size of a normal master bath done in shades of cream and beige and white marble and tile. The shower was a long rectangle with a bench almost spanning the entire length. Above the bench were built in shelves with candles and some new succulents he’d put there to replace the dead violets. His thumb was more brown than green. In the middle of the ceiling there was a showerhead almost a foot in diameter that rained down water. This was in addition to the regular showerhead on the far wall and the three directional jets to the side. Smooth black river stones ringed the sunken bathtub. Water came out of the broad flat faucet like a sheet.

  But the best part was the far wall. Made from some kind of wood he couldn’t remember the name of, it was a collection of lit niches and jutting shelves of various sizes. Here were more candles, some small carved figurines, and a dramatic orchid plant—again, a new one because Maggie was coming to stay.

  She got as far as the doorway, put her hands over her mouth and stopped to stare. He couldn’t help the self-satisfied smirk on his face. “This is just spectacular,” she said over her shoulder in a hushed tone. “Palatial. Sinful. Unbelievably luxurious.”

  “Thanks.” He followed her in. “I like it.”

  She opened the shower and went inside, her eyes darting everywhere. “Huh. I hope you more than like it, because this bathroom should be worshipped.” Her voice echoed as she continued to take it all in. “All right. I can’t resist. You win.”

  He grinned. “I love winning.”

  Maggie took three times as long to grade her papers that afternoon. She couldn’t concentrate, which was pretty sad because correcting first grade math papers and spelling tests did not take a lot of thought. After correcting, she really had to get started on report cards. She’d put it off far too long and she was determined to get math and science grades done. But Spencer was puttering around, trying to keep out of the way. He kept walking from room to room and if she didn’t know better, she’d say he was keeping tabs on her.

  Finally, she huffed. “Spencer.”

  He stopped in his tracks on his way to the refrigerator for the third time. “What?”

  She pasted a smile on her face. “Do you have an office I can use?”

  “What’s wrong with here?”

  “In a word, you.”

  Wincing, he actually blushed a little. “Yeah. Sorry.”

  “Can you find something to do? Or at least settle somewhere?”

  “Okay, sure. Sorry.”

  He backed out of the kitchen, looking sheepish and she didn’t like making him feel bad in his own house, but she really couldn’t put off the report cards any longer.

  She didn’t see him for a whole fifteen minutes. But that was enough time for her to whiz through the spelling tests and start on the math papers. She figured he was watching TV somewhere. Or maybe he was working out in his home gym, which was quite nice. It made sense, of course, for a pro athlete to have gym equipment in his home. One of these days she’d have to ask him how many hours he worked out a week. She wondered if he was lifting up there, flexing and sweating.

  Maybe even grunting.

  She shook herself in an effort to get her brain off that dangerous track.

  She corrected a few more papers before her mind wandered again. If he was working out, what might he be wearing? Maybe a sleeveless tee and athletic pants. Maybe the tee was cut off, so his washboard abs showed. She could picture that pretty clearly in her mind. Question was…did he have a treasure trail? Probably.

  That’s enough of that, Ms. Hudson. Get back to work.

  She was successful for half an hour. She got all her math grades calculated and was in the midst of transferring them onto the report cards when some movement caught her eye and she looked up to see Spencer in swimming trunks.

  Her eyes widened and she caught her breath.

  Lord, there was the perfect man, just standing there with towel over his shoulder. He was lean and muscular and she’d bet her house that when he jumped, nothing on him jiggled. Unlike her curvy body where everything jiggled. He came closer with that slightly crooked grin of his and her heart started beating faster. She couldn’t have found fat on him with a microscope.

  And he did have a treasure trail. A deliciously sexy treasure trail. She wanted nothing more than to loosen the tie on his board shorts and follow that trail with her fingertips. She wanted to grip his cock in her hands and feel it harden in her hand, in her mouth.

  “Going for a swim?” she asked in a bright tone she hoped would cover up the naked lust smoldering between her legs.

  “Yeah. I was, ah…”

  “Wait. Let me guess. Working out.”

  His smile slayed her. He flexed his biceps. “Do they look good?”

  She scoffed. “You know they do. Show-off.”

  “Did you finish all your work?”

  “Almost.” Such a lie.

  “I like to cool down with a few laps and then finish up with a soak in the Jacuzzi. You’re welcome to join me later if you want.”

  “The sun’s almost down. It’s going to be cold out there.”

  He shrugged. “I’ve lived half my life in an ice rink. Plus, the pool is heated.”

  All her girl parts clamored a resounding YES. Spencer, half-naked, wet, groaning in pleasure at the hot water, steam rising all around him? All systems go. What could it hurt? He invited you. You’re a free woman. You deserve this after the day you had dealing with Riley Chan having a meltdown because Jasmine Jones spilled paint on her art project and trying to figure out if Jasmine did it on purpose, because Jasmine just might have.

  Her brain countered with you, Underpaid Educator of America’s Future, have report cards to do. Parents like to be informed about how their progeny are progressing in school. Plus, get real. Spencer Corbett is not interested in you. He’s just a nice guy. You’re really not hockey girlfriend material, no matter what Jade thinks.

  Which she had to admit was true. Hockey girlfriends were overwhelmingly blonde and perfectly put-together. They wore heels all the time and knew how to apply makeup for even the most mundane activities.
Like shopping for drain cleaner.

  “You go ahead,” she said. “This could take me a while.”

  “You did bring a bathing suit though, right?”

  She nodded. A serviceable bikini she’d had for four years. If she’d known she was going to take a dip in the spa with him, she might have suffered the singular agony of finding a new suit. Hindsight was 20/20.

  “Okay. Dinner’s at six.”

  “Dinner?” Not knowing what to expect, she’d planned to grocery shop tomorrow but brought a frozen dinner for tonight.

  “Yeah. I’m going to grill some mahi-mahi and vegetables. And there’s this kick-ass mushroom brown rice I get from Trader Joe’s. It tastes great, but it comes in these puny ass little packages, so I always get half a dozen.”

  Suddenly she was hungry. “Sounds great. Wow.”

  He headed for the French doors that led to his backyard deck. Still sitting in the kitchen, she watched him drop the towel and remove the thick spa cover. As his arm muscles flexed in the waning light, he looked like a god.

  This was just not fair. How was she supposed to work with temptation like this staring her in the face?

  Spencer waved at her, his body lit by the pool lights. Behind him she could see the sloping grassy valley of his lush backyard, kissed by the waning rays of sunlight.

  She waved back.

  Swallowed hard.

  And calculated the science grades with record speed.

  Spencer had waited so long for Maggie to come outside, his fingers were getting wrinkly. He was just about to give up when he heard the sliding door glide open.

  “I had just about given up hope,” he called out as she walked toward the spa.

  She stopped. “Are you going inside? Because…”

  “No, no. I’ll hang out with you for a little while. Dinner can wait.”

  Looking hesitant, she came to the edge of the spa where the light from the water illuminated her. At last he was getting a decent view of her gorgeous body. Fuck. That ass of hers was utter perfection. He wanted to ask her to turn around so he could see it better. The contrast between her generous hips and delicate knees and ankles turned him on like nothing he’d seen before. She had her hair up in a fat, messy bun, which exposed her neck—a neck he very much wanted to explore with his mouth. Hell, he wanted to explore every inch of her body with his mouth and hands.

  As she slid into the water with a sigh of pleasure that stoked his hunger for her, he renewed his vow to keep it platonic. The last thing he wanted to do was make it awkward between them. He was leaving town tomorrow and he hated the idea of her living in his house, taking care of his dog (and hers) and wishing she’d never met him, or worse considering taking Kirby away and letting nature take its course with Lulu. But it was damned hard. He must have been blessed with masochistic genes because he was the one who invited her to soak in the tub with him.

  Even so, he asked, “So, what does Pete think of you staying here? Is he the jealous type? Is he going to suspect we’re getting up to some hanky panky?”

  He said it in a lighthearted tone, and hoped that his intense curiosity wasn’t coming through. Curiosity about Pete was eating him up inside—what he did for a living, the amount of his salary, how much he could bench press…

  “Pete doesn’t know,” she said. “I didn’t tell him.”

  Spencer’s brows rose. “Ah, okay,” he said. “Can I ask why?”

  She gave a small shrug. “I broke up with him.”

  She raised her gaze to meet his and, seriously, it was like a movie special effect—shit went into stasis. Time fucking stopped and his brain did a hard reboot.

  Maggie had broken up with Pete.

  She was single.

  He could almost hear Mama Marilyn in his ear. It’s Woo Time, Mister. Get cracking. And you owe me fifty dollars.

  A sense of purpose slowly swept over him, like a warm tropical wave. He was reminded of when he made it into the NHL. So many years of frustrated waiting and fear that he’d never get there. Then, when it finally happened…everything inside him zeroed in on proving himself worthy of the chance. And tonight with Maggie, he felt the same way.

  His dick wanted him to take her upstairs to his bedroom and fuck her into ecstasy, but he knew instinctively that wouldn’t be a good idea. Not yet anyway. Good strategy if he wanted a quick conquest, but that wasn’t what he was after with Maggie. Maggie was not a woman you played around with casually. If he took her to bed, it would mean something to her. Plus, she had just broken up with her boyfriend. Even if she’d done the breaking up, her emotions might be messed up. So as much as he wanted to spend all night in bed with her, he resolved not to.

  He did, however, allow himself a long, lingering stare and from the expression on her face, the message was received loud and clear. He chuckled at how adorably startled and uncomfortable she looked. Maybe a few kisses wouldn’t hurt anything.

  “What’s so funny?” she demanded with a glower.

  He shook his head slowly. “Not a thing.”

  “Then what was that laugh about?” She looked indignant. “Are you laughing at my bathing suit? Because I’ll admit, it’s way out of date.” Her pointy little chin was up and he had to stifle another apparently offensive chuckle.

  “I am definitely not laughing at your bathing suit. Frankly, I was just thinking that I like you so much, it doesn’t matter what the hell you’re wearing. In fact, I’d prefer it if you wore nothing at all.”

  17

  Maggie had to struggle to keep her jaw from dropping open as Spencer stood and the lights from the spa heightened the stunning impact of the water sluicing down his upper body. And what an upper body it was—all defined muscle and wet skin. A light smattering of hair only added to the overwhelming masculinity of his body. It was too bad the water level prevented a really good look at his abdomen and that delectable treasure trail. Still, the view she did have was outstanding.

  When he got close enough to touch, he placed his hands on either side of her. She itched to part her legs as his body pressed against her knees and a hot ache of longing stabbed her in the core. She took in a gasp of air. That skin-to-skin contact electrified her body, making it seem like every hair was on end, every nerve ending on alert.

  “I’m sorry if this sounds insensitive, but hearing about your breakup is the best news I’ve heard all week.”

  “Really? Why?”

  “That means I have a chance with you.”

  “I find that hard to believe.”

  He gave that shiver-inducing chuckle again. This time it didn’t seem irritating. This time, it seemed positively seductive. “Do I need to say it?”

  “Say what?”

  “That’s not the only thing that’s—”

  She gasp-laughed. “Oh my gosh, Spencer, stop it.”

  He leaned in and actually nuzzled her neck. A hot wave of desire swept over her as his lips brushed against her skin. This was proof positive that he wanted her, just as Jade had said all along.

  “Don’t want to stop,” he murmured.

  And she didn’t want him to stop either. Not ever. She was sitting in water hot enough to poach an egg in but she was certain at this moment, her body temperature was higher. Her breath came in pants and she was too shell-shocked to do anything but let her head fall back so he could kiss any part of her neck that struck his fancy.

  “Do you want me to stop?” he asked, his fingers threading through her mop of damp hair to grip her head.

  “No,” she breathed.

  “Because even though it would be extremely difficult, I would. I promised myself I was going to keep my hands off you, but when you told me about the breakup…”

  He took her earlobe between his lips and sucked and she couldn’t help it. A moan escaped her. She skimmed her hands over his sides, marveling at the hardness of his perfect body and the fact that she was touching him and he wasn’t laughing in her face.

  “When you told me about the breakup, I didn�
��t see any good reason to resist.”

  She could think of plenty, but she didn’t say anything. She was too busy drinking in the heady pleasure of his warm mouth on her neck, her cheeks…finally, her lips.

  Never had she been kissed like this. Never had the whole world disappeared. She had always been aware of background noise, the knowledge that she had laundry to do, how hesitant/clumsy/aggressive the guy seemed to be. The list was endless and as varied as the books in the school library.

  But not with Spencer. The moment his lips met hers, she was aware only of him—the gentleness of his kiss, the way his muscles shifted under hands, the wild, virile taste of him. He wiped clean all the worries and tension and replaced it with pure sensation and an awareness of how very male he was.

  He kissed her for a good long while, softly and leisurely. She supposed they had all night—or at least until he had to leave for the airport. Hell, she’d gone to work with only a couple of hours of sleep before and she could do it again. But as much as she enjoyed his determination to draw things out, she began to get impatient.

  In a brazen move, she parted her legs in an invitation to come closer, but the bastard refused to move. She hooked a leg around his back but he resisted even when she made a noise of frustration.

  He lifted his head. “Impatient much?”

  “Frankly, yes. You’re taking too long.”

  He leaned back, one brow raised. “Taking too long to do what?”

  “To take me to your bedroom.”

  This time both brows went up. “Is that where we’re headed?”

  “Unless we don’t make it that far and end up doing it on the kitchen table or something.”

  He groaned. “Maggie, you’re killing me. Thinking about doing you on the kitchen table…shit. I’m breaking out in a sweat.”

  “Well, we are in a giant tub of hot water.”

  He laughed as he took a seat beside her and slung his arm over her shoulders. She got the feeling that the make-out session was over—that the spell was broken and she sighed. So much for one hot night with a hockey player.