Between the Sheets Read online

  “Stop calling me Junior,” he finally said, “please.”

  “I thought you said you and your father had the same name.”

  “We do. But no one ever calls me Junior. Ever.” He edged closer to her, unable to stop the urge to inhale the flowery scent of her perfume. Okay, maybe he also got a perverse sense of pleasure in knowing his nearness disturbed her. He could see it in the way her clear blue eyes widened a fraction and the fact she took a tiny step back.

  What had gotten into him? After Whitley’s defection, he’d sworn off powerful, high-maintenance women. Hell, in fact, he’d sworn off all women. At least for a while.

  But there was something…different about Andrea Redd.

  And he intended to find out what.

  Beneath his baggy cargo shorts, his cock stirred in an effort to tell him exactly what it thought about Ms. Redd.

  He watched in fascination as her tongue darted out to lick her glossy lips, surprised to realize he wanted to feel that tongue, those lips, on his body.

  It was his vacation, after all, pitiful as it was. And it was the first one in more years than he wanted to count. Why not?

  Andrea forced her feet to stop retreating, locking her knees to keep them from trembling. Her heart raced, her breath coming in shallow huffs. Every nerve ending stood at attention. The whole situation was ridiculous. The man was young enough to be…well, at least her younger brother. So what if he oozed sex appeal? She was immune, thanks to her snake-in-the-grass ex-husband and waning hormones.

  He looked down at her from his less-than-considerable height advantage, thanks to her heels. She fought the urge to clutch her lapels together like some shy virgin, irritated he had the ability to make her nipples tingle with just a casual glance.

  She took a quick peek downward and bit back a smile. Obviously Junior liked what he saw.

  Redd Hot Properties could use a sale. Unloading the heretofore unsalable unit she’d just unlocked would just be icing on the cake.

  And, really, was a little harmless flirtation, both giving and receiving, going to kill her?

  Thinking of possibly unloading the property made her wet. Oh, yes, she could definitely see the possibilities in playing nice. Mutual satisfaction could perform miracles.

  Decision made, she released her lapels and took a deep breath, inwardly chuckling when Junior’s eyes widened at her expanded cleavage.

  She leaned in so he could get a better view, casually dragging the tip of her finger along the upper swell of her breast. “Since we’re already here, why don’t I just show you around? Who knows?” She turned, causing the tips of her nipples to graze his firm chest. A surprising streak of fiery awareness shot through her and renewed the dampness between her legs. What was wrong with her? “Maybe you’ll see something you like,” she finished in a breathy voice. No doubt about it, she’d already found something she liked, if her body’s reaction to him was any indication. Hell, who was she kidding? If it would unload the property, she wouldn’t be totally adverse to shoving her now-aching breast into his mouth.

  She was reasonably sure he’d be receptive.

  She ignored the light brush of his hand on her ass as they walked into the entry. After all, they were two consenting adults.

  Well, she was, anyway.

  3

  Connor could barely walk with the monster hard-on. He half expected her to slap him when he brushed his hand across her firm backside.

  She didn’t.

  Instead, she looked up at him with those blue, blue eyes as though daring—or wanting—him to do it again.

  She stopped just inside the door. His eyes took a second to adjust to the dimness of the interior after the bright sunshine. At least, that was his excuse when he ran into her back.

  Automatically reaching out to steady her, his hands gripped the soft curves that filled her suit jacket so enticingly.

  Before he could utter the apology on his lips, she murmured, “Easy, Junior.”

  Did she just wiggle her bottom against his erection? Or was that just a figment of his sex-starved imagination?

  Without a backward glance, she sauntered into the vaulted living room while he stood with his mouth hanging open.

  Giving himself a mental shake, he walked toward her. Two could play her game. His friends were always ragging on him to take a chance, indulge his baser instincts. A glance at his Realtor caught her giving him the once-over. She was obviously interested in showing him more than a beach house. At least he thought so. Wasn’t she?

  No doubt about it, he’d been out of circulation for too long.

  Andrea could practically smell the testosterone wafting from Connor. Ordinarily, she kept business and pleasure separate. Besides being too young, he was not her type. But that didn’t seem to dull the sharp edge of lust she felt just by being in the same room.

  Her gaze took a leisurely journey from his bare, flip-flop-clad toes up long, powerful-looking legs to lean hips. A little thrill of excitement zipped through her, hardening her nipples, when she eyed the obvious bulge in his cargo shorts. It was stupid to react so strongly to his virility.

  It could be professional suicide.

  He stepped closer, the hardened tips of her breasts grazing his firm chest again, sending little jolts of electric awareness shooting to her extremities.

  It could be worth the risk.

  “What do you think? Do you like it?” Damn, her voice sounded weak and airy. “W-would you like to see the rest?” She bit back a smile when she saw his gaze was directed down her cleavage.

  Now she understood the term heaving bosoms. Hers were definitely heaving, her breathing labored, while her panties grew wet. What was happening to her?

  It was ridiculous.

  Slowly he raised his hand to trail the blunt tip of his index finger between her breasts, down between the cleavage created by her push-up bra. His actions made her breath lodge in her throat, her heart race.

  It was dangerous. The man was a client, not to mention a stranger. A young stranger.

  “Oh, yeah,” he said in a low, seductive voice as he dipped his finger beneath her décolletage to graze her turgid nipple. “I’d definitely be interested in seeing the rest.” With that, he flicked the front closure of her bra open, palming her eager flesh.

  It was beyond thrilling.

  It was not professional behavior. She should push him away and cover herself instead of standing there, clamping her shaking legs together, while her thong dripped her excitement. And she would. Soon. It had just been so long since a man—any man—had touched her like that.

  He bent and took her puckered nipple deep into his hot mouth, his tongue swirling around and around in maddening circles with each deep pull on her sensitized flesh.

  Her breath hitched and she had to lock her knees to remain upright. She knew it was wrong to allow him to continue, but damn, it felt so good.

  As a result, she made no objections when he tugged her shoulders free of her suit jacket and pulled her open bra off over her head, along with her tank top.

  Against her will—well, it should have been against her will—her hands found the closure of his shorts. In no time, he stood before her, magnificent in his nudity.

  He reached for her, and she went willingly into his arms, glorying in the tactile pleasure of her breasts pushed against the warmth of his chest.

  She gave a little sideways movement, dragging her erect nipples back and forth against his, her stilettos making her close in height.

  The heat of his erection nudged her abdomen, sending a thrill shooting through her that was out of proportion with her experience.

  His mouth claimed hers, his lips soft at first, then harder, more demanding, as he took possession of her suddenly hungry mouth. His tongue swept her mouth once, twice, before she captured and sucked on it, earning a deep-throated moan. It may or may not have been from him.

  Still kissing her, he hooked his thumbs in her now-unzipped skirt, easing it down over her hips
to pool around her ankles.

  He broke the kiss and stepped back to look at her as she stood before him in her stilettos and black silk thong.

  It made her nipples pucker even tighter, if that was possible. She resisted the urge to cover her breasts with her hands. She’d worked hard to keep her body firm and fit. If the expression on Junior’s face was any indication, she’d succeeded. Proudly, she straightened her shoulders, glorying in a sexual urge she’d thought deserted her.

  Connor sank to his knees in front of her, trailing hot kisses from her breast downward.

  Sun streamed in through the bay window, warming her back. He hooked his fingers under the strings on her hips and began tugging, his hot breath warming her front more than the sun streaming through to bare windows warmed her back. The sun…oh, no!

  Her hands shot out to grasp his wrists.

  Breathing hard, they looked at each other.

  Although Connor had obeyed her nonverbal command, his fingers toyed with her damp folds while he waited, still holding the thin sides of her thong.

  Andrea all but moaned at his touch, wanting nothing more than to sink to the dubious cleanliness of the carpet and let him take her away to a place she had not visited in a long time: sexual bliss.

  She closed her eyes, gathering strength to stop him.

  Her breath caught when he plunged his finger deep within her wetness. Goose bumps sprang up on every inch of her skin, her nipples puckering to painful points. She couldn’t help herself; she gyrated her hips, grinding against his hand, pushing his finger deeper.

  More…she wanted, needed more. And, Lord help her, she wanted it with Connor.

  Connor must have taken her action as the go-ahead, because he resumed tugging at her panties.

  Once again, she reached out and stopped him. “Not here,” she managed to croak out of her parched throat, “someone might see us.” She jerked her head in the general direction of the bare windows.

  A frantic glance at the kitchen had her cursing the trend in open-concept designs.

  Connor knew he was not leaving the house without fucking her. They’d gone too far to stop now. At least he had, and, judging from the wetness dripping down his hand, she was right there with him. “Bathroom?” Even in a house like this, there had to be a way of closing off a bathroom to gain privacy.

  “The master is down the hall.” Andrea pointed a shaking hand over his shoulder.

  He scooped her into his arms, pleased when she wrapped her long legs around him, reveling in the feel of the stiletto heels scraping the small of his back, and almost ran down the hall.

  “What?” Andrea said, turning her head when he stopped and cursed at the door of the master suite. “Damn open concept!”

  Connor couldn’t believe his—their—luck. The master bedroom sprawled right into a huge master bathroom that was totally open. “There’s a door.” He headed toward a narrow opening on one end of the bathroom. The rub of wet silk against his cock was delicate torture. If he didn’t get relief soon, he’d explode.

  “It’s a water closet! We’ll never fit in there,” she objected, but he tightened his grip, stepping into the miniscule area and closing the pocket door.

  There was barely room to slide her down his body. Each millimeter was excruciating. Sexual torture.

  “My wallet,” he finally gasped, “there’s a condom in there. Damn! I can’t believe I left it in the other room.”

  Andrea paused. Was it a sign to stop what they were doing? She glanced down at the shiny purple head bobbing against the trembling flesh of her abdomen. Hell, no.

  “I’ll go get it.” She reached behind her, feeling for the recessed door handle.

  “Wait.” He pulled her tightly against his sweat-slicked chest. “Kiss me good-bye.” He covered her mouth in a kiss that had her all but climbing up his strong body. She whimpered when he pulled back. “Hurry,” he whispered against her kiss-swollen lips.

  She surely broke the land-speed record, running to the living room and grabbing his shorts, practically tearing the pocket in her haste to get his wallet.

  She paused, her natural curiosity warring with her sexual urge to finish what they’d started. Clutching the sun-warmed wallet to her breasts, she looked at their clothes, scattered in the afternoon sun on the worn carpet of the empty house. The sight elicited tingles that skittered up and down her labia, the result further drenching her thong and tightening her nipples. Tamping down all the reasons why it was a bad idea to continue, she pulled several condoms from his wallet, dropping it back to the floor.

  Hell, she’d gone this far; she may as well finish what they’d started. She kicked off her shoes and ran back to the bathroom.

  Connor was waiting for her, his erection bigger than when she’d left, if that was possible. He grabbed a condom, ripping the foil open with his teeth and sheathing his penis in record time.

  Before she could comment on his speed, he grabbed her arm, pulling her into the little room and sliding the door shut as he lifted her.

  Her knee bumped the door trim. “Ouch!”

  Her head banged against the closed door when he slid her panties down and attempted to align his heat to her opening.

  “Sorry. Here. Put your leg on my shoulder.”

  “I can’t get my leg out far enough to put it on your shoulder!” She felt like crying. “This isn’t going to work, is it?” Damn, she wished the needy ache between her legs would subside.

  “I’m an engineer. I can make it work.” He slid his warm hand down her leg, making her shiver. “Trust me.” He grasped her ankle and gently lifted until her foot touched the closed commode lid. “Relax.” He slid his finger up and down her folds, making them plump and moist again. “Look,” he whispered, “look at how pretty you are down there.”

  She glanced down, intrigued at the contrast of his masculine hand against her most feminine parts. Parts that were open and fully exposed. It was wicked and decadent, thoroughly unprofessional and naughty, to say the least.

  She loved it.

  The heat of his fingers combined with the heat of his breath whispering over her erect nipples increased her heart rate, her breath coming in shallow pants while she watched him pleasure her.

  He plucked at her engorged clitoris, causing it to swell and darken, her excitement making it glisten in the limited light from the tiny window above the toilet.

  Her hips began moving involuntarily, in an age-old rhythm, seeking sexual gratification.

  His finger slid into her aching folds, seeking the part of her weeping for him, and impaled her.

  She found what she’d been seeking.

  4

  Andrea trembled in his arms, her flesh vibrating against his as her climax washed over his hand. Her knees gave way, but he managed to hold her up with one arm wrapped around her bare back, his finger still deeply embedded. His dick twitched as he indulged in petting her clamping, slick folds and kissing her forehead, touching her everywhere he could reach while she calmed down.

  He wanted nothing more than to bury himself in her wet, welcoming heat. But he also wanted her to be with him every second, sharing the experience, the bone-deep satisfaction, the…Oh, man, what was he thinking? Well, obviously he wasn’t, to even consider having sex in an empty house. With his Realtor. Worse, to attempt to have anything close to gratification while standing in a miniscule toilet area.

  It wasn’t that he didn’t want her. Hell, yes, he wanted her. In fact, he couldn’t honestly remember ever wanting a woman more than he wanted Andrea Redd. But he’d be damned if their first time was going to be in a cramped bath of an empty house.

  He wanted to spread her out on the king-size bed in his hotel room, to feel the soft rub of her skin against his while he explored every delectable inch of her before finally sinking to the hilt in her honeyed sex.

  He closed his eyes to block the erotic sight of Andrea, naked, with one foot raised high for his viewing pleasure, while he took deep breaths to try to calm down.
If he continued looking, he knew he’d want to keep touching her. And it wouldn’t stop with just touching. The thought of it made him shake with need. He’d been too long without sex, but even a sex-starved geek had to draw the line somewhere.

  Shuffling alerted him to Andrea’s movement. The cooler air wafting around his sweating torso told him she’d moved away from him. Well, as far away as one could move, given the confining space.

  “Relax, Junior.” Andrea’s voice sounded harsh, detached, the breathy sexiness from just a few minutes ago completely gone. “I’m not going to ravage you.” The sound of the pocket door opening shot through the little room. “Now, be a brave boy, open your eyes, and go get our clothes.”

  She gave a little shove, then a slight tap on his butt as he turned to exit the bathroom.

  He wanted to assure her that ravaging was the furthest thing from his mind, unless it was him doing the ravaging. Actually, he wanted to tell her more than that, but she’d already pushed him out and closed the door again.

  He looked down. What a waste of a perfectly good condom.

  “You are such a nerd,” he grumbled, stripping off the condom as he stalked into the living room. Bending to scoop up their clothing, he looked at the wadded condom in his hand. He would toss it, of course, but just leaving it lying around in an empty house wasn’t going to work. Besides, it might damage Andrea’s reputation or business if someone who knew she’d shown the house found it. After throwing on his clothes, he shoved it in his pocket. If he didn’t find a better place, he could always dispose of it in his hotel room later.

  His knock on the pocket door sounded timid, even to him, but the change in Andrea’s attitude was a little scary. Not that he was afraid of her—it was just an awkward situation, and now that he thought about it, she was probably embarrassed. Which would account for the way her arm shot through the opening to grab her clothes before slamming the door shut again.

  Seconds later, the door reopened and Andrea stepped out, looking once again like the consummate professional. Except for her bare feet.