Dream of You (9 page)

"No." She wiggled on him. "I'm excellent with
this."

"Thank God," he said fervently, and then he
thrust all the way into her.

Her head fell back automatically, and she
thumped it hard against the wall. "Ow."

"I'll kiss it better," Sam promised her,
"after I kiss this."

And he latched onto her nipple and
sucked.

She cried out, her legs tightening around him
of their own volition. By the way that he groaned, she could tell
he liked that, so she squeezed harder.

He thrust into her, going faster and faster
until she had to grab onto his shoulders, kneading her fingers in
and holding on.

It was the best ride of her life.

It was the kind of sex the characters in her
books had.

At least usually—she couldn't seem to get
Louise and Calvin to get it on.

"What are you thinking about?" Sam said, his
breathing labored.

"Isn't that the girl's line?"

"Not when you're suddenly not paying
attention to what's going on here." He shifted back, just enough to
work his hand between their bodies. "Maybe this will help," he said
as he touched her there.

She cried out, her fingers and toes
curling.

"Do I have your attention again?" he
whispered against her neck.

"Yes." She rolled her hips. He touched her
infuriatingly lightly, and she needed more.

As if he read her mind, he asked, "More?"

"Yes." She pushed against him. "Yes, yes,
yes
."

He gave her what she wanted, everything she
asked for. His finger pressed her harder, until her vision clouded
and every slide of his erection into her was a cascade of
fireworks.

"That's it, sweetheart," he murmured. "Work
me. Come on me, for me."

She cried out, unable to stop herself from
falling into climax. It rolled over her, through her—over and over.
She vaguely registered him calling out her name as he followed her,
his fingers digging into her flesh.

Unable to hold herself up, she slumped
against him. Holding her, he let them slide carefully down the wall
until he held her on his lap, a heap in his arms.

She closed her eyes, listening to his
heartbeat. Strong and rapid, it seemed to echo hers.

Seemed
was the operative word there.
This was a hook up. A casual thing, she reminded herself. A carnal
impulse that neither one of them could deny.

Whatever. It was good. "Are we going to do
that again?" she asked drowsily.

"Yes." He rolled onto his back, pulling her
on top of him.

"I didn't mean now." She managed to lift her
head to look at him. "Unless you can just do it on command."

He pressed deeper inside her. "Want to give
it a try?"

She felt him grow harder in her and sighed in
pleasure. "Yes, please. And then I'll need to eat."

"I'll need to eat too," he whispered with a
wicked grin before feasting—on her.

Using chopsticks, Lola popped a piece of
broccoli into her mouth. She loved Chinese food, but it was
infinitely more delicious while sitting naked in bed.

Of course, it had at least a little to do
with the long, hunky man sprawled sideways across the mattress. He
was propped on his arm, watching her as he slowly ate an egg
roll.

She grinned. The sheets had been shoved off
the end of the bed and her hair felt like it had a Medusa thing
going on, but she couldn't remember feeling this good in a long
time.

Sam's fault, but she bet he was more than
willing to take the blame.

She pointed the chopsticks at his flaccid yet
still impressive manly parts. "You must have been hated in the
locker room."

He looked down at himself. "Is that some
strange romance writer way of saying you like the package?"

"It's quite a package." She looked down at
his scarred knee.

He sighed. "We were in Tahoe, and I got angry
with Chelsea, my ex, so I decided to work out my frustration on the
slopes. My career ended with one unlucky run. It was the second
most stupid thing I've ever done."

"The first?"

"Marrying Chelsea." He smiled
self-deprecatingly.

"But you have Madison now," Lola pointed
out.

"Yes. And I have my radio show." He frowned.
"Or I will again, after I finish with
Ladies' Night
."

"That seems like a strange career move."

"They thought I'd pumped the ratings." He
dipped egg roll in the pink sauce and offered her a bite.

It was sweet and greasy and delicious. "You
got here really quickly from the station."

"I ran a couple stop signs." He grinned
sheepishly. "I also had an intern pick up the food for me. I didn't
want to waste time getting here."

"I like that you were eager."

"I like that you greeted me naked."

"I didn't greet you naked. I had a robe
on."

He wrapped his hand around her ankle. "Wear
that robe for me more often."

Lola glowed in womanly satisfaction.
"Okay."

Taking the box out of her hand, Sam deftly
grabbed some beef with his chopsticks. "About us."

She stilled. "Us?"

"I want to make sure we're on the same
page."

"What page is that?" she asked carefully.

"The page that repeats as often as we like,
without strings."

"Oh." Relieved, she nodded. "That sounds
great."

"It does?" he asked, also being careful.

"Yes." She picked up the last egg roll. "I'm
not about to get invested in another emotionally bankrupt man, and
no playboy is going to want to settle down."

"Just to be clear, I'm the playboy in this
scenario?"

"Duh." She winked at him and offered him a
bit of the soggy egg roll.

"Is that what you want?" he asked after he'd
chewed. "To settle down?"

"All women want a Happily Ever After."

"Some women want money."

Something in his voice caught her attention.
She looked at him—really looked at him. He tried to appear casual
but he was bothered. She remembered what he'd said about his
ex-wife and her heart broke for him. "Not all women," she assured
him softly. "Some women just want someone who'll see their flaws
and love them anyway."

"What are your flaws?"

"I write." She shrugged. "Sometimes a lot.
Sometimes in the evenings or late at night. Some guys can't handle
not being the center of a woman's world."

He shrugged. "Some guys appreciate a woman
who's independent."

"I also have other family obligations." She
thought of her mother and had to shore up her smile.

"So do I."

Knowing he was talking about his daughter,
she said, "I love Madison."

"She's a terror, but she's mine."

"You love her, too."

"In a deep and abiding way I never knew
existed," he said, unabashed.

Longing pierced her chest. "That's so sweet.
She's a lucky girl."

"You didn't have that sort of relationship
with your father?"

"My dad died when I was twenty." She smiled
as thought about how hard he'd tried to treat her like an adult
instead of his baby. "He was a good father. Our relationship was
just starting to mature into something special when he passed
away."

"You must have been devastated when he
died."

"My mom was more devastated than anyone." She
swallowed thickly. Sally's grief had been thick and heavy, and Lola
hadn't been able to do anything to help. Sometimes she wondered if
it hadn't brought on the dementia. Sometimes she wondered if it
wasn't a blessing that her mom couldn't remember what she'd lost.
"They were the most in-love couple I'd ever seen. When he died, Mom
was lost."

"Is your mom okay now?"

Her mom would never be okay, but it felt too
personal a thing to talk about. So she put on her shored-up smile.
"Mom is great."

He fed her a bite of beef. "I feel sad for
your dad."

"Why?"

"He didn't get to see how lovely you turned
out."

Tears prickled her eyes. From anyone else and
she'd have doubted their sincerity, but Sam meant it—she could
tell. She blinked away the moisture, feeling her heart soften
against him.

Bad,
bad
idea. He might not be the
cretin she originally thought, but that didn't mean anything. Kevin
hadn't been a jerk at first either. She didn't have the emotional
reserves to take that chance. Not when she had a book—a
bestseller—due and a sick mother to take care of.

So she pushed aside all the food and brought
them back to level ground by pouring herself over him.

"Hello," he said huskily, his arms going
around her. "Enough food?"

She nodded as she straddled his hips. "I'm
ready for dessert."

Grounds for Thought was slammed.

It happened sometimes. Kristin was used to
working in tandem with Eve behind the counter. She looked at it
like an intricate choreography, sometimes graceful, sometimes
clumsy.

It was so different than when she worked at
Aspire. At Aspire, if she wanted to, she could work for days
without talking with anyone face-to-face.

Despite the morning craziness, Kristin was
aware that Rob hadn't come in at his normal time. Every time
someone came in, she glanced at the door, hopeful it'd be him.

Silly, she chided herself as she handed a
customer an iced coffee. It was past nine—he was long at work
already.

Had she turned him off that night she'd
invited herself to his place for dinner?

Frowning, she slowly steamed milk for a mocha
and cappuccino. She replayed the evening in her head. She
had
been a little pushy, but he hadn't seemed turned
off.

Neither had he been chomping at the bit to
get involved with her. And she hadn't seen him at the café
since.

She pouted as she finished the drinks and
slid them across the counter.

"A vanilla latte, a Nutella latte, and a
double espresso for here," her boss said, as she handed change to a
customer. "And I need a smile from my barista."

Kristin sighed. "Am I that bad?"

"Yes." Eve smiled at her. "But it's just
withdrawal because your guy hasn't been in yet."

"It's way late. He's not—"

The other woman nudged her. "Look."

He walked in, eyes on her.

Oh, please, him
, her body sighed. She
went through the usual barrage of feelings: the tingles, the
shivers, and the hot flashes.

Frankly, it was like the flu.

"If you glare at him like that, you'll scare
the poor guy," Eve said as she leaned to bag a scone.

"I'm not glaring at him," she protested,
pouring a cup of coffee. "I'm conveying my displeasure over his
lack of apparent interest."

"He doesn't look disinterested." Her boss
openly appraised him. "He looks like he wants to lick whipped cream
off every inch of your body."

Kristin snorted and tried to ignore him.

It was impossible. He drew her eyes. It was
more than his looks—it was
him
. She found him irresistible
in a way she'd never experienced. It was disconcerting and exciting
all at once. It didn't help that he really was watching her like he
wanted her, just like Eve said. His stare was like a caress, and
she felt it all over her body.

She was conscious of him the whole while,
even though she ducked her head and hid behind the huge espresso
machine. He placed his order with her boss and then stood across
from her waiting for his coffee.

Kristin pointed a stirrer at him. "I don't
have time to flirt today, so don't even try it."

"There's always time for flirting," Eve said,
taking the silver spoon from her. "Take it in the kitchen."

She gestured to the line. "There's a ton of
people."

"I'll handle it until Allison arrives." Eve
checked the time. "She'll be here in minutes. Go."

Kristin frowned at Rob. "He doesn't want
to."

"I don't recall being asked," he replied
mildly.

"Fine. Gang up on me." She threw her hands in
the air. Walking out from behind the counter, she grabbed Rob by
the tie. "Come on."

He gently untangled the silk from her hand as
they walked, holding her hand instead.

"Don't think that's going to mollify me," she
tossed over her shoulder as they walked into the kitchen.

He tugged her to a stop and turned her to
face him. "Want to tell me what's got you worked up?"

"I'm not worked up." She crossed her arms.
"I'm peeved."

Humor lit his eyes.

She punched his shoulder. "Don't you dare
laugh."

"I wouldn't even think of it."

"That's the problem, isn't it? You wouldn't
think of it." She huffed. "Well, I'm done, then."

"Why do women always expect you to read their
minds?" He shook his head. "I have no idea what you're talking
about. What didn't I think of?"

"Me." She crossed her arms and glared at him.
"Sex with me, to be exact."

"That's ridiculous. I think of that all the
time."

She started to yell at him, and then his
words registered. "You do?"

"How could I not, when you throw your
incredible body at me and kiss me like you do?" He shook his head,
eyebrows drawn.

"You don't look especially pleased about it,"
she accused.

"I'm not." He stalked toward her. "You harass
me. You stalk me. You acquired me a dog I didn't want—"

"Don't talk about Chanel that way. She's
sensitive."

"—And you disrupt my mornings with your sassy
mouth, so that all I can think of for the first hour at work is
kissing you. You're driving me crazy."

She backed up slowly. "I don't mean to drive
you crazy."

"Yes, you do." He trapped her against a
counter, his arms bracketing either side of her. "You're trying to
get me to lose control."

Heart pounding, she looked up at him. "Am I
succeeding?"