Designed for Love (3 page)

*

Jillian grunted as she leaned against the large antique bureau and it barely inched across the hardwood floor. She stopped, fearing she might injure herself or, worse, damage the floor.

“They don’t make them like this anymore,” she muttered to herself as she slapped her palm against the solid mahogany.

Deciding to leave the dresser until she had some help, she walked over to the stack of boxes she’d started filling that morning. She returned to packing Mary’s books, taking a photo album from the half-empty bookcase. The leather cover was worn in places, but obviously well made, and she flipped it open to reveal black-and-white snapshots of Mary’s life. A child she guessed was Mary stood outside a church, wearing a dark-colored dress, wide-brimmed hat, and white gloves, her Sunday best. The child held a bunch of wildflowers clasped tight in her right hand, and she smiled widely at whoever was behind the camera.

Prodding herself, Jillian tucked the album in the bureau drawer. She couldn’t spend all day looking through photos. Besides, she felt as if she was intruding on Mary’s privacy. But there was no one else to tie up the loose ends of Mary’s life, so she continued sorting and carefully packing her belongings. That thought saddened her and she couldn’t help but wonder who would do this for her someday. While, at thirty-four years old, she was far from spinsterhood, in recent years she had become more aware that she was not where she’d planned to be by this point in her life.

After a string of unfulfilling relationships, she had let her personal life fall by the wayside in favor of her career and told herself that was enough to fulfill her. Her last partner had been unfaithful, then had informed Jillian it was her fault since she cared more about her next commission than their relationship. It had been so long since Jillian had even thought about what she wanted outside of work. She hadn’t consciously decided to avoid romance. She had simply continued to make choices based on her opportunities, and it just happened that most of them furthered her career and left less time for social pursuits. But now that her career had taken a new turn or, rather, a drastic detour, she was uncertain. Without the framework of her profession to define her time, she felt directionless.

Thankfully, the sound of the doorbell signaled the end of her self-analysis. And she told herself she was foolish to let a minor setback make her so melancholy. There was nothing wrong with her life a new job won’t fix. She’d just been off balance lately and needed to get things back to normal.

She stepped into the main hallway and glanced toward the front door. Through the glass she could see Wil Johnson standing on the porch. Speaking of social pursuits, this woman would sure provide an interesting one.

*

As the door swung open, Wil stared. Jillian stood framed in the doorway wearing a white tank top and crisp khaki shorts that revealed a sinful length of leg. Her bare limbs glistened with a sheen of sweat, and the strands of hair that escaped her ponytail were damp.

“I’ve been packing Aunt Mary’s things.” Jillian seemed flustered. “The movers will be here soon to take them to storage until I figure out what to do with them.”

Wil jerked her eyes up and, judging by the flush spreading over Jillian’s neck, she guessed she’d been caught staring. She was sure she failed to hide the lust in her eyes, but she found it burning in Jillian’s as well, their gold flecks seeming to glow. She dropped her gaze again to Jillian’s braless breasts, where her nipples now tented the cotton tank top.

“I have some plans for you,” Wil said.
Lord, do I have plans for you.
She held up the folder in her hands. “Um—for the house.”

“Sure. Come on in. Can I get you a drink?”

“No, thank you.”

Jillian led her to the kitchen. “You’ve been busy,” she said as she went to the refrigerator.

“Yeah, well, when I start a project, I’m committed.”

“So what did you bring me?”

Wil watched her take a long pull from a plastic bottle. A trickle of water escaped from the corner of her mouth and ran down her chin and over her neck, accelerated by the muscles in her neck as she swallowed.

When Jillian looked at her expectantly, she opened the folder, laid it on the counter, and consulted her notes. “I thought we could start here in the kitchen since that’s where most of the work will be done.”

Jillian crossed to stand beside her. “Ah, you’re a jump-in-with-both-feet kind of girl, huh?” She leaned to look over Wil’s shoulder, and when she did her breast brushed the back of her arm. They both froze, but neither of them acknowledged the contact.

When Wil spoke, her voice was tight. “Normally, no, but in this case it seems appropriate.”

Jillian stared at the papers in front of her, unable to look at Wil as she flipped through several sketches and stopped at a floor plan.

“I went over some of your ideas and made a few changes, so I wanted to run them by you before we got started. Here’s the new island.”

“Okay,” she murmured, watching Wil’s strong fingers trace a line on the paper. She could imagine those confident hands on her body and a heavy throb began between her thighs, but she forced herself to focus on all the logical reasons why she shouldn’t jump her contractor right there in the kitchen. She’d long ago learned it was best to keep working relationships professional. And it had been many years since she’d had a problem sticking to that policy.

“Jillian?” Wil whispered, and Jillian realized she’d been rubbing her breast against Wil’s arm.

“Oh, God—I’m sorry.” Mortified, she jerked back a step.

But when she would have fled, Wil grabbed her wrist, cupped a hand behind her neck, and kissed her. Her lips were gentle at first, then, when Jillian responded, more aggressive. Wil stroked her tongue silkily inside her mouth and she melted, clutching fistfuls of the back of her shirt.

Wil’s mouth was everywhere, sucking her bottom lip, sliding along her jaw, then the side of her neck. Just as frantically, Jillian pulled Wil’s T-shirt free from her waistband and shoved both hands under it. She touched the warm skin over Wil’s ribs but it wasn’t enough. She wanted more.

“This is crazy,” she murmured, unsure if she was telling Wil or herself.

“It is,” Wil agreed, but she continued to kiss the underside of Jillian’s jaw.

I should stop.
This time Jillian was certain she didn’t speak aloud. Still, it was good advice. But when Wil’s fingers slid into her hair at the base of her skull, pleasure spread through her, hot and liquid, and melted her resistance.

“The movers,” she practically whimpered as Wil’s teeth nipped at her neck. “Don’t—have much—time.”

“I guess we’ll have to be quick,” Wil said against her skin, her lips caressing with each word.

With one hand Wil struggled to push her shorts over her hips. Jillian grabbed the waistband and helped shove them down. After she kicked them off, Wil slid her palms against the back of her thighs and lifted her onto the counter.

Desperate to be beneath Wil, Jillian broke the kiss and murmured, “Bedroom?”

“No. Here.”

She gasped when Wil cupped her hand against the cotton triangle between her legs. “Ah, you’re right. Here is much better.” She’d lost the ability to think about anything except having Wil’s hands on her. In her.
Now. OhGodnow.

When Wil squeezed her through her panties, her head swam and she fought the orgasm that threatened to wash over her.
Not yet.

“Don’t. I’ll come,” she pled when Wil’s fingers closed again, milking the pleasure from her flesh.

“It’s okay.”

She grasped Wil’s wrist firmly and stilled her hand. “Not like that. I want you inside.”

Wil groaned and, fighting the urge to ignore Jillian’s request, pressed her face into Jillian’s neck and tried to gather her control. Somehow she knew if she continued to stroke Jillian to a quick climax, she wouldn’t resist. “God, you’re beautiful,” Wil murmured.

Wil shoved aside Jillian’s panties and slid inside her. Heat surged between Wil’s thighs as warm, wet muscles pulsed around her fingers. Jillian wrapped her legs around her, hooking her heels on the back of Wil’s calves, and buried her hands in her hair. She met every thrust, as if the pistoning of her hips could propel her closer to the razor edge of release.

“Harder,” Jillian moaned, tugging a fistful of Wil’s hair almost to the point of pain. Wil withdrew her fingers almost completely, and when she drove into Jillian, the heel of her hand pounded Jillian’s clit. “Oh, yes, that’s it.”

“Come for me,” Wil demanded, as the rasp of Jillian’s encouragement and the bite of Jillian’s fingernails against her scalp drove her own ascension toward orgasm. “Now.” She dragged her tongue across Jillian’s collarbone, then bit the silky skin where her shoulder met her neck. Hard. Jillian cried out and, with one final thrust, locked her legs around Wil’s hips.

Wil remained inside as the throbbing around her fingers eased.

Jillian sighed and kissed her temple, then her lips. “That was—”

The doorbell rang. Startled, Wil yanked her hand back and Jillian gasped as her fingers slipped out.

“Shit. The movers.” Jillian slid to the floor, but her legs were weak and she might have fallen if Wil’s arm hadn’t come around her waist. She reached between them and fumbled with the fly of her shorts.

“Let me.” Propping her against the counter, Wil nudged her hands aside and straightened her clothes. Then she tucked an errant strand of hair behind Jillian’s ear. “I’m not finished with you yet,” she said, kissing her quickly before taking her shoulders and steering her toward the front door.

Jillian hoped the movers were quick.The feel of Wil’s hands was tattooed on her skin, and the promise of more had her trembling as she answered the door.

Since she was going to live in the house for the coming weeks, in addition to furniture in one bedroom, she had elected to keep the sofa in the living room. When she passed through while directing the two men in gray jumpsuits to the dining room, Wil was slouched on the sofa, her knees falling lazily apart and her hands tucked behind her head. Jillian stumbled when she saw the indolent arousal in her eyes.

“Be careful, ma’am,” one of the movers said politely, reaching for her elbow.

“Thank you.” She flushed with the memory of what they’d been doing when the doorbell rang.

As if reading her mind, Wil smiled and winked at her. Jillian leaned against the door frame between the living room and dining room and tried to look anywhere except at Wil.

“Do you guys need any help?” Wil asked as the two men carried a large oak sideboard toward the front door.

“We’ve got it,” the shorter man replied as they carefully maneuvered it through the front door.

“They’ve got it,” Wil murmured when they were out of earshot. When Jillian glanced at her, she patted the cushion beside her. “You may as well sit down and relax.”

“I’m fine.” Jillian folded her arms over her chest. She couldn’t possibly be within five feet of Wil just then.

Grinning, Wil shifted to the far end of the sofa. “I’ll stay at this end and you can sit way down there.”

“No, thank you.”

Wil’s innocent shrug was at odds with her knowing expression. She had to be fully aware of why Jillian kept her distance, and her eyes said she was thinking about the same thing.

By the time the truck was loaded, Jillian was completely avoiding Wil’s gloating gaze. Her body hummed with anticipation, but she certainly didn’t want the men to read the desire on her face.

“All set, ma’am.”

“Thanks, guys.” She’d rented a storage unit the day before and had arranged with the storage facility to let the movers unload everything there.

She closed the door, then turned and almost fell against it. Wil didn’t move from the sofa but her eyes raked over Jillian’s body, and when Jillian crossed the room she had to force herself not to run. She slid one knee on either side of Wil’s legs and eased onto her lap, straddling her.

“I thought they’d never leave,” Wil murmured, bringing her hands to Jillian’s hips.

“You were looking at me as if you weren’t going to wait until they left.”

Wil ran her hands under her T-shirt and cupped her full breasts. “I’m not into having an audience.” She rubbed her thumbs over erect nipples, stopped, and tilted her head in question. Then she lightly pinched Jillian’s right nipple, feeling the bar that passed through it.

Jillian gasped at the slight tug and smiled. “Youthful indiscretion,” she said by way of explanation.

“I want to see.” Realizing she had been in such a hurry earlier that she hadn’t found the piercing, Wil vowed to go slower this time.

Jillian pulled up her T-shirt, baring her right breast. Experimentally, Wil played with the small silver balls resting on either side of her nipple. She was fascinated by the piercing that seemed so out of character. Equally interesting was the way Jillian trembled and her breathing quickened as she toyed with the jewelry. Wil drew her shirt over her head and lightly bit her nipple.

“I have a confession,” Jillian said, her back arching as Wil’s tongue flicked against the piercing. Wil cradled Jillian’s shoulder blades in her hands, bent over her, and continued to work the hardened nipple with her teeth and tongue.