Waking Up to You: Overexposed (9 page)

“How did you get in?”

“I’m sorry. I used Buddy’s key. I know it was rude.”

“And illegal.”

Twisting her hands in front of her, she rose from the couch. “I was freaked out. That place is spooky enough when it’s daylight. I kept picturing spiders lurking in every corner.”

“Not the ghost of Fatty Arbuckle stalking you?”

“Oh, great, thanks. That makes me feel tons better!”

“I’m surprised you know who I was referring to.”

“Hello, movie biz, remember? Was he one of your great-grandpa’s cronies?”

“They did a few films together,” he said.

Very cool.

“Let me brighten things up a little in here.”

He headed for the kitchen. She heard him fumble with something, and a moment later, a soft light spotlighted his handsome face. He came back carrying a thick candle, which he placed on the coffee table.

“So, do you want me to leave?”

He hesitated, then shook his head. “It’s coming down in buckets. You’d be soaked to the skin with no way to warm up.”

True. “I can stay?”

“Yes. Sit down. I’ll light a fire.”

“That would be wonderful.”

She curled up on the couch again, watching him. Fortunately he’d had logs and kindling already set in the fireplace, and they sparked quickly. Within minutes, the small space was benefiting from the heat created by the blaze, and the room was enveloped in a lovely golden glow.

She took the opportunity to look around a bit, knowing he’d only been here a few months, but sensing he’d taken steps to make the place his own. There were some non-fiction books on the mantel, along with a few thrillers. No pictures on the walls, but a couple of framed family type snapshots stood on the end table. Some colorful pillows were tossed on the furniture, and the thick rug in front of the hearth looked new and cozy.

She’d definitely seen worse bachelor pads.

“Better?”

“Much, thank you.”

He fell silent again, and she felt that tension between them that had appeared in the restaurant, after she’d gone to the ladies’ room. Compared to his friendliness before she’d left, she couldn’t help thinking something had happened. As she’d driven home, she’d half wondered if he’d made some assignation with the waitress and just wanted to be rid of her. She couldn’t deny she’d held her breath waiting to hear him come home, and was pleased he had, even if it had meant she was trapped and busted as a home invader.

He finally broke the silence. “I think I owe you an apology.”

“Oh?”

He sat on the floor, near the fireplace, on that thick rug. His long jeans-clad legs were stretched in front of him, booted feet casually crossed. The jeans pulled tight on those powerful thighs. She again noted how built he was, obviously not from any L.A. gym lifestyle but from his physically demanding job.

“Yeah. Earlier tonight, at the bar, one of the guys in the next booth told me you’d been on the phone before I arrived, having a very intimate conversation.”

She laughed. “Of course I was—intentionally! My best friend called, and I was trying really hard to make it sound like he was my boyfriend, so they would stop pestering me.”

He dropped his head back, shaking it and mumbling something under his breath. Something that sounded like,
idiot.

Well, yeah, he had been. Being all macho-aloof instead of asking her about it had been the typical male reaction.

“Is that why you were such a jerk in the parking lot?”

He straightened to look at her. “I’m sorry.”

“Were you angry about it?”

“Not angry. Jealous as hell,” he admitted.

That sent warm shivers of excitement rushing through her. There was no reason for Oliver to have been jealous if he didn’t want her for himself.

“I know it’s none of my business, but you said you didn’t have a boyfriend....”

“I don’t,” she insisted. “No boyfriend, no husband, no lover.”

Just a fiancé.

The thought stabbed into her head like a brain freeze, shocking and painful. She was so used to not being involved with anyone, it was hard to remember that now, she technically was.

Oh, hell, what a mess.

She knew she should just tell him the situation, be honest and let him know what was happening. But in order to do that, she’d have to tell him why she’d agreed to a sexless marriage, and why it was okay for her to cheat on her fiancé.

She couldn’t out Tommy to somebody he didn’t know. Nobody had that right. Especially because, even if she didn’t reveal the name of her future husband, once the press got hold of her engagement and marriage, Oliver would realize who she’d been talking about. It wasn’t like he was some foreign, overseas stranger who would never give her another thought. He lived right in California, worked for her grandfather. His family lived in San Diego, and he probably still had plenty of work ties to L.A. No, he wasn’t the type who would run tattling to the press the minute he heard the news, but what if he accidentally said something to the wrong person? Tommy could be hurt—badly—because of her. She just couldn’t risk it.

Telling him the truth was out. But lying was just against her nature.

Was there a happy medium? Could she walk the tightrope and take what she wanted more than anything in the world—a wild affair with Oliver—without jeopardizing her best friend’s reputation?

Oliver watched her from the floor, his dark eyes catching glimmers of firelight, reflecting them. He cast a long deliberate stare over her, gazing from her face, down her throat, to the single bare shoulder revealed by her blouse. She’d been wearing a raincoat when she came in, but hadn’t wanted to get his couch wet. At least, that’s what she’d told herself. Actually, the thought of him looking at her, like this, hadn’t been a small part of the reason she’d taken the coat off.

Something was happening between them. Heat—quiet but intense—flared. But the problem bore repeating: what a mess.

“This has been pretty inevitable, hasn’t it?” he asked, his tone simple, to the point. As if he’d given up resisting something they had both known was going to happen.

“Yes, I think so.”

He wanted her. That was obvious. He’d been fighting it, as had she. But it seemed they’d both had enough of playing games. The attraction between them had been thick from the moment they’d met. They were always headed to this moment. Always.

Find the happy medium, an inner voice urged.

She couldn’t let it go that one last step toward becoming this amazing man’s lover until she’d clarified a couple of things. No, she couldn’t reveal Tommy’s secret, but she had to be as honest as she could be. “You need to know something.”

He didn’t seem to be paying attention. Instead he got on his knees, crawling closer to the edge of the couch. His glittering eyes were narrowed, his lips parted, his hair was damp and hanging in his face. He looked earthy, primal and...hungry.

“Oliver...”

“Unless you need to tell me you’re a virgin or a nun, I don’t think there’s anything else I absolutely have to know right now.”

She couldn’t help laughing a little at his vehemence. “What if I needed to tell you I was gay?”

He moved closer, dropping his hand on her calf. “Then I’d tell you you’re a liar.”

She swallowed hard, feeling the heat of his palm through her jeans. He squeezed lightly.

Quivering in reaction, she managed to insist, “I really do need to make something clear.”

He hesitated. Her heart ached as she thought of doing anything to sabotage what she sensed could be one of the most sensual, erotic nights of her life, but she had to at least try to make things as open as possible.

“Whatever happens can’t go beyond this week.”

He smiled a little, looking relieved. Okay, maybe he had just wanted a one-night, or one-week, stand. Which shouldn’t have bothered her, since a week was all she had. But her insides twisted, anyway.

Stop overanalyzing. Maybe he’s just relieved you didn’t say you were transgendered.

She forced herself to go on. “I meant it when I said I don’t have a lover or a boyfriend, but that doesn’t mean I’m free. I have made a serious commitment and I intend to keep my word. Once I leave here next week, when Grandpa gets home, this is completely over.”

He eyed her intently. “You want to tell me what the commitment is?”

“I could try, but it wouldn’t be easy for me to say too much without breaking someone else’s confidence,” she said, hoping that wouldn’t be a deal-breaker.

“Understood,” he said with a nod. She already knew he valued integrity and wasn’t totally surprised he hadn’t insisted she spill everything.

“You’re an adult, you want me and you’re not married. As long as all three of those things are true, then, honestly, right at this moment, I don’t give a damn about anything else.”

He fell silent. So did she. Their stares locked.

Finally she spoke. “All those things are true.”

He moved closer.

“But I do have a request to make. Can we just agree that, if we, uh...” She could feel her cheeks warming. “If we enjoy tonight...”

His spontaneous laugh made her smile. The man did not suffer from any lack of confidence.

“If we do, and we want to spend the rest of the week together, that’s great,” she explained. “After that week though, it’s never mentioned again, never referred to. You don’t contact me.... I don’t contact you?”

“No strings? Absolutely no regrets?”

“Exactly.”

He didn’t jump for joy the way most men probably would have at hearing a woman admit she wanted a no-strings sexual affair with him. “You’re serious?”

“Very.”

He didn’t answer for a moment, considering. Then, at last, he slowly nodded. “My life’s too crazy now to even consider getting tangled in any strings. If that’s really the way you want to play it, that’s the way it’ll be.”

Another long stare. A silent assent.

Then an exchange of slow, sultry smiles.

They’d made a bargain. They would be lovers.

She had a week. And she intended to enjoy every minute of it.

8

O
NCE
THE
WORDS
had been said, the deal struck, Candace let all her questions, doubts and worries fade away. She might not have a long-term future with Oliver, and her life might be taking her in directions she could never have imagined, but for now, for tonight at least, she intended to enjoy herself with a man who made her whole body come alive.

“I have a bed upstairs in the loft,” Oliver murmured, sliding his hand down her calf.

“I like it right here,” she said, not willing to waste the time moving, not when she was finally going to get what she’d so desperately wanted.

His approving nod said he agreed. When he reached into his pocket and withdrew a condom, she knew he’d been anticipating this moment. Considering she’d picked up a box at the drug store and had a few tucked into her purse, she couldn’t pretend to take offense. She could only be grateful.

The man was gloriously handsome at any time of day, in any lighting. But when he tugged at his shirt and pulled it up and over his head, tossing it to the floor, she had to admit he did amazing things for firelight.

His body was perfectly shaped. The shoulders so broad, the chest beautifully sculpted. Months of hard, physical labor had obviously eradicated any sign of the L.A. lawyer and turned him into a muscular god, with incredibly defined abs, a lean waist and slim hips. A light swirl of hair encircled his nipples, trailing down into a thin line that disappeared into the waistband of his jeans.

She licked her lips, wanting to see where that happy trail led. But after kicking off his shoes, he stopped, leaving his jeans in place.

She pouted. “Keep going. You definitely don’t have to stop on my account.”

“We’ll get there. But fair’s fair. You’re still fully dressed.”

“You can fix that for me.”

“I’d be happy to.”

He tugged the boots off her feet, then gently palmed and massaged her arches. When his fingers slipped up under her pant legs, the brush of skin on skin made her internal temperature soar. An hour ago she’d been freezing. Now she knew a spark had just ignited and she was going up in flames.

Her skinny jeans were tight, and he couldn’t move his hand nearly high enough to satisfy her, so she stretched out and began to wriggle, reaching for her waistband.

“No. Let me,” he insisted.

Still kneeling on the floor, he touched his way up her limbs, slowly, deliberately. By the time those talented fingers reached the tops of her thighs, she was groaning. She couldn’t begin to imagine what it would be like when he finally got her undressed. Fortunately, she knew she wouldn’t have to wait long to find out.

“Please, hurry,” she whispered when he traipsed his knuckles up the strip of fabric covering the zipper.

“You’re not the patient sort, are you?”

“If you go negative-two miles an hour I might just have to kill you,” she admitted, whimpering when he reached for the button and unfastened her jeans.

“We have all night,” he insisted, not sounding the least bit prodded to speed up. “I’ve been thinking about this—dreaming about it—since the minute we met. There’s no way in hell I’m rushing through it.”

“Ditto,” she admitted. Then, being honest, she added, “The thinking and the dreaming part, I mean. I’m all about rushing.”

Fast and hard. Deep and wild. She was dying to be filled by him, possessed, pounded into and taken.

“Sorry, beautiful. It’s not happening.”

He slid the zipper down slowly. She could practically hear the teeth separating, the faint hiss competing with the roar of the wind outside, the crackling of the fire and the pounding of her blood in her veins.

When he’d finished unzipping her, she lifted her hips, shimmying to help him as he pulled the pants down, peeling them off and baring her legs. To her disappointment, he didn’t slide his hands down the front of her groin, didn’t take the skimpy panties with the jeans. But she really hadn’t expected him to. Aside from what he’d just admitted, Oliver had already proven himself to be a very patient man. He was going to take his time, go slow, wring every ounce of pleasure out of each and every experience they shared.

“I will, too,” she told herself, whispering it aloud. “I can do this.”

“You will and can what?”

“I’ll go slow,” she promised. Then he traced the tip of his finger along the elastic edge of her panties and she whimpered. “Oh, God, yes, please, rip them off. Take me!”

His chuckle was pure evil. “That’s not going slow.” He slid his finger below the elastic, scraping it into the soft tuft of curls nesting at the top of her sex, then away again.

“I said slow, not in slow motion,” she groaned, her hips thrusting up as a nameless but very familiar need took over.

“We’re just getting started,” he insisted, moving his hands to the bottom hem of her blouse.

Okay, that detour she could allow. Her breasts were aching, her nipples pointy and so sensitized her own shirt was giving her a thrill. His mouth and hands would likely send her out of her mind.

“God, you’re beautiful. It killed me not to be able to look down at you last night when I touched your breasts,” he whispered as he pushed the blouse up, revealing her tummy and her midriff. “Stay still. Let me explore you.”

Being explored sounded good. Very good. She could be the wilds of undiscovered America and he could go all Lewis and Clark over every hill, valley and stream. She just hoped those hills were her breasts, the valley her pelvis and the stream the flood of creamy desire filling her sex.

He lowered his face so he could press a kiss on her hip bone. She felt the warmth of his breath on her skin, so close to her panty line, and instinctively rose to offer him more, praying he was eschewing the hills and valleys and going for the stream.

He moved in the other direction, though, kissing his way up the indentation of her pelvis, to her belly button.

She let out a groan that was half pleasure, half frustration. Ignoring her, he continued to push her blouse up, moving his mouth after it. Inch by inch, he explored her body, licking into each hollow between every rib, testing her, tasting her, breathing her in. It was wonderful, erotic...and frustrating. She was whimpering and twisting below him, wanting him to hurry up, but not ever wanting this to end.

He reached her bra, which opened with a front clasp. She held her breath, tensing as he touched the fastener with his thumb and finger, and deftly flicked it open, revealing her curves for his most delicious attention. He paused for a moment, staring, as if memorizing every line and dip. Her nipples were tight buds, pink and pointy, obviously begging for some attention.

But when he again began to trace his mouth over her, he focused on her sternum, kissing his way right up between her sensitive breasts, his smooth cheeks brushing against the sides but making no effort to suck away some of her tension. Nor did his teasing hand offer any relief, as he simply continued those light, delicate strokes over her belly, her pelvis and her upper thighs, never giving her what she really needed.

“Oh, God,” she groaned, every inch of her burning. Her senses were so deliciously heightened the pleasure was almost pain. She’d never felt anything like it, never been so totally keyed up and ready.

Shudders coursed through her body, her muscles tensing, every inch of her aware and anxious. But he didn’t give her any relief. He was entirely focused on what he was doing. He seemed to love the curve of her collarbone, which he sampled and scraped his teeth across. He found something delightfully kissable in the hollow of her throat. Here he licked. There he pressed his face and breathed her in. Here and there, there and here.

It was wonderful. Erotic. The anticipation was beyond anything she’d ever experienced.

But she was dying. Just dying. Because every tender caress he placed on one part of her body only sent more currents of hot, electric desire to her core. Her clit was so hard it ached, her sex was throbbing, all her nerve endings seemed to have bunched between her thighs.

Maybe because she’d only ever been with guys her own age, and those in the movie business, who were always on a schedule, she’d never had a lover take so much time, be so deliberate in every caress. Oliver seemed to savor every part of her he uncovered. He appeared determined to pay full, glorious attention to every inch of her body, leaving the choicest bits for last.

Her tummy and throat and, oh, the nape of her neck, adored him for it.

Her choicest bits were screaming for his attention.

“Shh,” he ordered.

“I didn’t say anything,” she groaned.

“Your thoughts are very loud, Candace.” He lifted his head to look at her, a smile of pure wickedness on his face. “I know what you want.”

“Well, mind reader, if I’ve been so obvious, why...”

“Oh, you’ve been very obvious,” he insisted with a low, sultry laugh. “And I’m looking forward to meeting your every demand.” He bent to slide his lips over her jaw, moving up until he reached her ear and traced the lobe with the tip of his tongue. “But I’d like to at least kiss you before I slide my tongue into your pussy and lick you until you don’t remember what planet you’re on.”

Bam. Explosion.

“Oh, God!”

She climaxed, just like that, from those words, from the weight of his hand on her thigh and the slide of his mouth on her cheek. Her whole body quaked, hot bolts of pleasure rocketing through her. This wasn’t a slow, pulsing wave; it was a tsunami, hitting her hard in every direction. As he’d insisted he wanted to, Oliver moved his mouth over hers, catching her gasps of pleasure with his lips, taking them in and swallowing them down.

When she finally regained a brain cell, she realized Oliver had somehow managed to tug her tiny panties off her hips and push them out of the way. They were tangled around her legs, and she kicked and bucked to get free of them. He helped, drawing them all the way off her.

His wickedly erotic words still echoed in her ears, and she held her breath, wondering if he would now go back to some of those choice bits for more attention. When he began to kiss his way down her body, she suspected that’s exactly what he intended.

“Oh, yes,” she groaned.

He ignored her, his mouth moving down between her breasts. But this time, thankfully, he detoured and pressed hot, openmouthed kisses on her breast. She was whimpering by the time that wonderful mouth moved to cover her nipple and cried out when he sucked it. He caught her other one in his fingers, teasing and tweaking, plumping her breast in his hand while continuing to suckle her into incoherence.

Not until he’d paid equal attention to her other rock-hard nipple did he continue his downward journey over her body. He licked a line straight down, tasting her inch by inch. He nibbled her belly, nipped at her hip bone, his lips grazing the hollow above her groin. His face brushed against the curls concealing her sex and she couldn’t stop her hips from thrusting up in welcome.

He turned her to face him, then tugged one leg over his shoulder, opening her to his hungry gaze.

“Oliver,” she whimpered as embarrassment warred with utter lust. The look on his face was so covetous, so admiring, she decided to go with the lust.

“You are absolutely mouthwatering.” He traced his fingertip over her clit, then down, separating the lips of her sex, opening her for his most intimate perusal. “So pink and shiny. I love how wet you are.”

She gulped. No lover had ever examined her so frankly, or spoken so bluntly. That thick note of hunger in his voice said he meant every word he said. This man knew how to use language, all right—he seduced her with every word he said. She’d bet he was wicked in the courtroom. And more wicked in the bedroom.

“This is so pretty,” he mused as he thumbed her clit, rolling it around. He slipped a finger into her channel, drawing a low gasp from her. “And so is this. I can’t decide which I want to taste more.”

He was apparently the decisive sort. Because not ten seconds had passed before he moved his head between her thighs and went down.

When he buried his face in her sex and began to devour her, she saw stars. She clutched him, twining her fingers in his hair as he lifted her other leg and draped it over his shoulder. Her limbs were practically wrapped around his neck, but he didn’t seem interested in going anywhere else, so she left them there and focused on the incredible sensation of his mouth against her plump, swollen lips.

He devoured her, licking into her, making love to her with his tongue. She was gasping as he moved up to her clit and gently sucked and stroked. Back and forth he went until she was arching, twisting, helpless against her body’s intense reaction.

This time, when she came in a heated rush, he didn’t stop what he was doing. He went right on pleasuring her, focusing on her clit while he slid his fingers deep into her and worked some magic on a spot high inside. Tears formed in her eyes, and she was whimpering as another orgasm washed over her.

Now he finally seemed satisfied. He gently lowered her legs and kissed his way back up her body. Still dazed, she only regained her senses when she realized he was pulling away to stand up and unfasten his jeans.

This was worth her full, utmost attention.

She caught her lip between her teeth and watched him, feeling like a kid on Christmas morning who was finally going to get to open her biggest present.

“Wow,” she whispered when he peeled away his boxer briefs.

Because big didn’t quite describe him. His cock could be described with three of her favorite adjectives:
long, thick
and
rock-hard.
It jutted out, proud and male and hot. That river between her legs threatened to turn into an ocean just at the sight of him.

“I’ve been walking around like this since the night you slammed me with the frying pan.”

“Feel free to get even by slamming me with that,” she whispered.

He chuckled softly, but he soon stopped laughing. Because Candace wasn’t satisfied with just looking. She had to touch him, feel all that silk-encased steel.

She sat up straight. Scooting to the very edge of the couch, she parted her thighs to make room for his legs and leaned close to his naked body. Close enough to cast warm breaths of air over him, her lips hovering an inch from all that luscious maleness. But she didn’t go further, not quite yet. She wanted him as out of his mind with desire as she’d been.