PhoenixKiss (3 page)

She looked up and frowned and began to twist and twine the
poor little black shirt all over again.

“They’ll assume you’re either a stalker or one of the many
reporters I’ve spurned over the years out for revenge.”

Not that each and every one of them didn’t deserve it. After
his guardian was ruined because of one simple byline, one slipup, he knew he’d
never put himself in the same position. He’d never expected one of them to be
so bold as to break into his home.

Now he had to do some damage control. That’s what he paid a
publicist for but even she couldn’t get him out of this shit. No, he’d have to
take care of this little scandal all by himself.

“What will your editor say to you? What will he ask?” He
pretended to ponder this. “Where’s your proof? Did you get a picture? Did I
admit it? Your answer to all those questions will be a resounding…” He paused
for effect. Her brow began to narrow and her lips pursed. “No.”

“But I know what I saw,” she whispered.

“That may be so but you have no proof, Layla,” he said
quietly before stepping in front of her again, towering over her small,
voluptuous frame. “Your word against mine? You know who I am? You’re going to
tell the world that I’m a shapeshifting phoenix, with absolutely not one shred
of proof?” He shook his head. “I don’t think so.”

Jordan reached up and caressed her from just below her ear,
around her cheek to her pouting lip. Her tongue darted out to lick him and she
gasped, stepping back, her eyes widening with disbelief.

Right then and there, he knew exactly how he was going to
play this little game with Ms. Layla Martin. He advanced on her again but when
she stepped away, the backs of her legs met his bed.

Although he hadn’t seen a wedding ring on her finger, he asked
anyway. “Are you married?” Not that he gave a damn. But he might as well get it
out of the way.

“No,” she said, shaking her head back and forth as she took
short, shallow breaths. Her voice was low and slightly husky and so damn sexy
it made his dick jump.

He could see her pulse thumping in her throat. Being this
close to him unnerved her. Her body caused every wicked thought he could
conjure to roam around his brain. She was a very beautiful woman, after all.
Even though she was dressed completely in black, he could still appreciate her
generous curves, the luscious breasts, the very round bottom he’d cupped
earlier. One very decadent, sexy package.

His fingers tingled with the desire to remove the band from
around the ponytail she wore and slide through her thick hair before he gripped
the back of her head and moved his mouth over hers.

But that was impossible.

Her breath caught in her throat at his touch and the answer
came to him almost immediately. All he had to do was seduce her. Give her no
choice but to spend one night in his bed and he was pretty sure her story would
go right up in smoke. Because when morning came, she would have compromised
herself by having sex with him.

Oh yes, he’d satisfy her, and himself for that matter. He
had no doubt they’d spend a glorious several hours in bed together, learning
everything there was to know about each other’s bodies. Even now he wanted to
taste her skin, see if she tasted as good as the cherry blossoms he’d caught a
whiff of earlier.

But he would never forget the real reason she was here. She
was a blood-sucking reporter and the story she planned to write about him
needed derailed. And right now, he had no choice but to use every weapon in his
arsenal to accomplish that goal. Even if it was sex.

“Do you have a boyfriend at home, waiting for you?”

She shook her head again.

“Do you want your story, Ms. Martin?” She’d possibly have a
story but not the one brewing around in her head.

“Yes,” she said, nodding emphatically. “Yes I do.”

“Then I have a proposition for you.”

Her eyes, wary now, gazed up at him. “What?”

Even though his heart was thumping for reasons he couldn’t
explain, he was hearing thoughts of hers he didn’t want to consider and his
dick was pulsing with unfilled need, he stepped forward and exhibited the
epitome of control. “Spend the rest of the night with me.”

“W-what?” she stammered.

Jordan watched the stunned expression on her face, her
widening pupils. He grinned before trailing a single digit from the middle of
her neck to between her breasts. A supreme amount of satisfaction went through
Jordan when Layla’s nipples beaded under her shirt.

Oh yeah
, he thought. This night was getting better
and better.

Chapter Three

Layla could not believe what she’d heard. “But…but you’re
Jordan Gaines. You can pick up the phone right now and call any woman in a one
hundred mile radius and they’d come running.”

“Maybe.”

Damn, she wished he’d step back. His sheer nearness was
causing her pussy havoc. It was practically drooling, she wanted him so bad.

He kept touching her.

And she’d licked his finger.

His
finger
, for goodness’ sake, like a lust-starved
wanton.

“You don’t want me.”

He pressed against her. “I wouldn’t say that.”

Layla felt his arousal and stifled a moan.

“You do want that story, don’t you?”

Hell yes, she wanted the story. But now the story was much
more than who was having sex with Jordan Gaines. It was now what the hell
is
Jordan Gaines?

Not only would she make the front page, hell, she’d probably
be the news herself. People would want to know how she found out, what he had
confided in her…could she provide proof of what he was.

Shit.

Shit
.

She had no proof. He was absolutely right when he said it
would be her word against his. Her editor would definitely want undeniable
proof that he was a phoenix. Wasn’t that her calling card? She wouldn’t write
it unless she did have irrefutable proof. That’s what she always told him.

A picture of Jordan shifting.

A written confession.

Something.

If she refused his offer, she had nothing. Plus he probably
would make good on his threat to call the police and have her arrested.

She did
not
want to spend a night in jail. She was
all for that first amendment rights stuff but jail, no way.

But if she stayed, spent the night with him…then quite
possibly she could find evidence somewhere in this huge house of what he was
and have it to take to her boss along with her story.

And Layla had to admit it, she wanted him. Her body was
responding to every touch, every caress of his fingers.

This wasn’t like her. She didn’t meet a man and, because he
was cute and happened to have a sexy body, want to immediately jump his bones.
But she did.

“Yes, I want the story but…”

“But you don’t want me.”

Her mouth opened and closed. He was right up against her, no
doubt feeling how much she wanted him. She couldn’t tell that lie.

Deftly, he reached up and tugged the black band from around
her ponytail. Surprise sifted through her as his strong fingers briefly
massaged her scalp before her hair tumbled around her shoulders.

She sighed. She simply couldn’t help it.

He grabbed her shoulder-length hair, moved it aside and
after lowering his head, brushed his nose over her neck.

“I smelled you before I even saw you, you know. That’s how I
knew you were here.”

His cool, spicy breath fanned across her cheek as he tugged
her earlobe between his teeth. A moan of lust, so deep and primal inside her,
escaped.

How in the hell could she say no to this?

He stepped back and Layla felt herself leaning into him
before she stopped the forward motion.

Damn it. She was like a dog in heat.

Jordan turned and walked to the bathroom. Almost
immediately, she felt bereft, alone and needy.

What the hell was wrong with her?

When he stepped over the threshold into the lush room, he
turned and dropped his robe. She could almost feel her eyes boggle out of her
head.

God, he was magnificent. Everything about him spoke of
extreme self-assuredness, natural poise. He was thick and long and she watched,
astonished, as he became blatantly and magnificently aroused. She had to force
her gaze up to his face.

“As soon as I landed, all I wanted was a shower and a beer.
I’m about to take that shower. Since you broke into my home, the beer will have
to come later. Decide what you want, Ms. Martin. Join me for…” He looked at the
clock on the opposite nightstand from where she was standing. It read a little
bit after eleven o’clock. “Oh, around eight hours in my bed and I’ll let you
leave with your story.”

He disappeared into the room and she heard the jets shoot on
inside the glass-enclosed shower before he reappeared back at the door.

“If your answer is no then I’ll be calling the police as
soon as I get out of the shower.” He stopped, she assumed to let her mull that
over. “And don’t think about leaving before I get out,” he said, with an edge
of steel underlying a voice as smooth as brandy, as he pointed to the door to
his room. “I turned on the alarm. If you walk out a door, try to slip out a
window, attempt to leave by the laundry chute, the police will be here within
two minutes.”

Even though Layla’s mouth fell open, she couldn’t help but
admire his very round, tanned butt cheeks as he vanished once again inside the
bathroom.

She stood there, transfixed. “Well, Layla, what’s it going
to be? One night in Jordan Gaines’ bed plus the story that will make your
career, or a night in jail? Hmph. That’s a no-brainer.”

She could have walked out and taken her chances with the
police. But this was one of the most affluent neighborhoods in Bel Air, which
meant the police would probably be here before she made it out the door.
However, she had a feeling she’d just been issued a challenge and challenges
were meant to be met, head on, by a formidable opponent.

Layla hadn’t gotten where she was in this business by being
a wimp. This
was
Jordan Gaines after all. She needed this story. Plus,
the man exuded sex appeal. Hadn’t she told herself she would love to find out
what all the fuss was about?

There had to be a reason women flocked to him. Money was one
thing but sex… If he was as talented in the bedroom as he was in the boardroom,
she’d understand why the women didn’t kiss and tell. Because they wanted Jordan
Gaines all to themselves.

Now she could find out, and the bonus—she would get the
story that would make her career.

She tugged her knitted black shirt out of her pants and
after a slight hesitation pulled it up and over her head. She kicked out of her
black tennis shoes without untying the strings and unbuttoned her pants. She
couldn’t believe she was actually going to do this, couldn’t believe she was
actually here.

But she was.

She left her clothes where they lay and once she rounded the
corner to the shower, she stopped and watched him, his head tilted back as
water cascaded down his soapy body.

The white bubbles left a delicious trail over his dusk-colored
nipples and over the indentations of his gorgeous abs.

Layla wanted to slide each finger over his chest inch by
inch until she reached his dick, squeezed and placed him in her mouth.

Oh yeah, she was definitely going to enjoy this.

Slowly, she edged forward and pulled open the door. For a
split second, she saw him still then continue washing his hair. The water came
from everywhere. She’d seen pictures of water closets with jets like this,
hitting you from every direction and all angles, and always wondered what it
would be like to take a bath in something so luxurious.

Now she’d get a chance to find out.

With a tentative touch, she pressed her palm in the middle
of his back and inched it down slowly, enjoying the feel of his skin beneath
her fingertips, the muscles, the indentations. There was a thin, five-inch scar
just below his right deltoid muscle that she traced with her middle finger.
Other than that one mark, his skin was perfection.

Steam billowed up in the space as hot, almost boiling water
exactly the way she liked it hit every inch of her body. The soap from his hair
crept over her fingers as she began to rub her hands down the middle of his
spine, moving from his upper back to his lower and stopping above the perfect
ass she’d admired earlier.

After a moan, he turned around and her gaze swung up to meet
his. It was intense and dark and his eyes glittered with desire as his dick
rubbed over her stomach.

Layla gulped.

His eyes never left hers as he grabbed a white sponge, one
of two hanging from a small clip on the wall, and began to lather it with soap.
“Your turn.”

He turned her around and began to bathe her, moving down her
back, over her shoulders, down her arms, never saying a word. She didn’t think
she’d ever been treated with this much care by a man. She arched her back,
hoping to draw his ministrations closer to her pussy. The rasp of the scrub
over her skin made her already rapid heart thump faster.

When he made it to her ass, he went slower, almost massaging
each cheek before kneeling and moving down her legs to her ankles. Her nipples
stiffened as his breath tickled over her calf muscles.

He tapped her foot. “Spread your legs.” His voice was
brusque, deep and each word he spoke sent a wave of delight up her spine.

Layla moved her legs apart and placed both her palms against
the glass to balance herself. She smiled, thinking she’d never watch another
cop show again and, as a suspect got frisked, not think of this exact moment.

Jordan rubbed the sponge up her inner calf to inside her thigh
and then danced it over her pussy, rubbing softly. She moaned. This was getting
better and better. Pleasure unfurled through her core and made her cry out.