Putting It to the Test Page 13

  What he hadn’t realized was that in all this time Carly Abrams had mattered, too. She’d been that slice of something special he hadn’t noticed until he’d squashed it, and rather than work to make amends, he’d fallen into his old familiar ways by simply shutting her out.

  “I…um…I think you can be taught some basic rules when it comes to art and design,” he said hoarsely, this sudden realization leaving him shaken and a little unsettled.

  She shook her head and smiled. “Not the kind of talent you’ve got.”

  She was making this hard, her expression sobering as if she’d come to some sort of revelation of her own. Maybe she’d caught the look in his eyes, maybe the fleeting effects from the wine were wearing off. He didn’t know for sure, but the mood was quickly shifting, and his thoughts started drifting to places they shouldn’t go.

  She stretched languidly next to him, a funny smile crossing her face that disappeared just before she asked, “Did you really mean what you said before? About having sex with me all over again if I’d let you?”

  His cock heard the comment and responded, but the rest of him tried to shake back the reality that they needed to go to work Monday on good terms. As much as he’d love to spend his weekend in her bed, he feared unraveling all the progress they’d made this afternoon.

  Unfortunately, he’d gotten used to their game of honesty, and when he opened his mouth, he heard himself say, “I meant every word.”

  She grinned, then rolled onto her side, propping her head in one hand and leaving the other free to toy with the hem of his dress shirt. “I have a confession of my own.”

  He swallowed, not certain he should hear it.

  “I didn’t lie on the whole survey.”

  Now he knew he shouldn’t have heard that. Nor should he have allowed himself the peek down her blouse into the spot where two voluptuous breasts collided into mounds of cleavage a guy could sink his face into.

  “That part about the sex—that whole bit about toying with Mr. Hall—it was all a lie.”

  He let his eyes drop down to the teal low-rise sweats she’d changed into before he’d shown up, the ones that fell just under her navel, held in place by a little drawstring he imagined pulling off with his teeth. The thought had whisked through his mind earlier, shut out by his insistence that this visit would be about clearing the air between them and doing what he had to do to get along. At the time it had included dismissing his aching need for her and keeping his thoughts platonic.

  Apparently, Carly had other ideas.

  “I was embarrassed that you’d seen my answers. I didn’t know what you’d think of me if you knew I had a secret dream about engaging in kinky sex.”

  Her eyes were focused squarely on his lips, which twitched involuntarily, his body far more responsive to her words than his conscience. It, on the other hand, was still trying to keep him from losing his job.

  She let go of his shirt and began trailing a finger up his arm, tracing a line along the edge of his sleeve where he’d rolled it up at the forearm.

  “But then I saw your answers. Did you know we answered all those questions the same?”

  “We did?” he asked, not recognizing the voice that croaked from his throat.

  “Uh-huh.”

  His hard cock pressed uncomfortably against the floor, crushed by the weight of the fat cat on his butt, so he shifted to his side, dumping Mr. Doodles to the floor, where he voiced his displeasure before scampering away. It felt good to ease the pressure, though Carly wasted no time taking advantage of his new accessibility. The finger that had been trailing his arm now made its way down toward his crotch, and his erection stiffened as if to meet her halfway.

  “Carly,” he said, making a last-ditch effort to keep perspective on the moment, though as her finger met the top button of his jeans, he nearly forgot where he’d been heading. “If we don’t start getting along at the office, we could lose our jobs,” he said, pleased he’d managed to get the sentence out while he had the chance.

  “I think we got along pretty well during that hour in the lab.”

  When her finger passed the threshold of his jeans and made contact with the bulge inside, her eyes dropped and widened, those luscious coral lips parting in the barest hint of a gasp.

  Had she really not expected she’d been turning him on?

  She spread her palm over his shaft and slid her hand between his legs, the pressure testing the limits of what a man can take without buckling.

  Yet he still gave it one last shot.

  “Seriously, Carly, we can’t afford another fight.” She slid her palm back up his shaft. “I can’t afford to stick my foot in my mouth and piss you off again.”

  “Then you should probably shut up and kiss me.”

  Wiggling those curvy teal hips, she scooted toward him, giving his nose a whiff of sweet peaches and wine. She let her head fall against the cushion, her hair splaying around her like a halo, her eyes teasing and her lids heavy. Her shirt stretched as her breasts settled back into perfect clutchable mounds, and the hem rode up to display a silky flat stomach, hips arched and ready for him to reach in and take hold of the offering.

  And the last thing he heard was a curse sliding from his lips before he wrapped an arm around her waist, pulled her against his chest and crushed his mouth to hers.

  His body sighed. Waves of aching tension slid from his limbs, escaping through his breath, while coils of hungry need slipped into their wake. He groped and sucked like a starved and thirsty teen, one arm clutching her close while the other roamed and explored, and her curvy, tender body held a landscape of possibilities so vast he couldn’t decide where to start.

  Slipping a hand up under her shirt, he groaned when his fingers met with naked flesh, and she responded by arching closer, shoving the fleshy soft mound into his waiting palm. Her hand fisted his shirt, using it like a leash to pull him closer while her tongue stroked and fed. She smelled of fruit, tasted like dry red wine, and when she wrapped a leg around his waist and pressed her hips to his erection, a pulse of pleasure ripped through him so sudden and striking he grunted.

  Why did this woman drive him so wild? What was it about her that took the wind from his lungs and the decency from his soul? Since they’d met he had never been able to stay lukewarm around her. He either ran scorching hot or frigidly cold, the woman digging through his layers and pulling out the best and worst in him, not settling for anything in between.

  And having seen his bad side, he now wanted to show her the good.

  His lips left hers and kissed a path to her ear. “We need to get to your bedroom.”

  She held up a limp hand and spoke through a breath. “It’s that way.”

  Looking up, he noted the hallway at the opposite end of the room, then moved to his feet, reaching out a hand to pull her up into his arms.

  She heaved in a breath and grinned when he whipped her off her feet, wrapping those delicate arms around his neck and pressing her lips to his cheek.

  “Promise me we’ll stay friends after this,” he said, though in truth he was beyond worrying about where this was all headed. He’d begun to figure out that Carly Abrams was a woman masterful at getting her way—and he was powerless against her will. So instead of fighting like a fish swimming upstream, he might as well just shift direction and enjoy wherever the current took him.

  “I’m not promising you anything,” she said, proving his point to a T. “But if we can’t be friends, I guarantee you can be my lover.”

  Sinking his teeth into her neck, he muttered, “It’s a deal.”

  13

  CARLY HADN’T forgotten what she’d learned the last time she ended up in Matt’s arms. The grand realization was that when it came to him, she couldn’t separate heart from body, that she was incapable of enjoying the sexy stud without losing herself to the man.

  She knew exactly where she would land once Matt reached her bedroom, and it wasn’t just her bed. But darned if she could be near him
without opting to dismiss all that and take what she could get. He was like her own personal compulsion, an impulse item she couldn’t resist at the checkout even though she knew she’d end up with buyer’s remorse when she balanced her account.

  She’d tried not to gleam when he’d called her a hot-blooded sex kitten. She’d swallowed down that flutter when he’d said she was the best sex he could remember. And for well over an hour she’d worked hard to forget he’d said she was the kind of woman guys fall for—noting that he hadn’t necessarily been speaking about himself. He’d said guys, as in, those other guys, and she knew better than to add words that hadn’t been spoken.

  But despite it all, the man excited her in ways she couldn’t ignore. Every time he got close her body heated and swayed, her pulse flickered and her sex clenched. It was as though he came electrically wired to set her off, to put her every nerve ending on heightened alert, and the longer she spent subjected to the charge, the weaker her defenses became. As much as she wished otherwise, as much as her mind begged her to place her affections somewhere else, Matt Jacobs was the man who lit her on fire—and there wasn’t a thing she could do about it.

  She’d done the safe nice-guy thing before. For once in her life she wanted that thrill only Matt could give her, and if she lost her heart in the process, she’d have to accept it as the ticket price for a ride well worth it.

  Reaching the edge of her bed, he placed her on the floor and wasted no time in pulling her shirt up over her head, leaving her breasts bare and exposed. The cool air raised goose bumps on her skin, but they quickly smoothed away when he bent and took one nipple in his mouth, cupping the other with his big, warm hand. She laced her fingers through his hair and drew him close, curving her spine in an attempt at drawing nearer.

  Already she was wet and ready, his sexy moans vibrating through her chest and settling between her thighs. This could be over so quickly if left up to her, but she knew he was only getting started—and where he planned to take her this time, she could barely imagine.

  He switched breasts, giving the other equal attention while he moved his hands to her sweats, tugging open the drawstring and letting them pool at her feet. And when he slipped a finger between her folds, he shuddered and dropped to his knees.

  “Take your clothes off,” she said.

  He pressed his lips to her navel and began kissing a path south. “That’s not advisable if you want this to last.”

  He kissed lower, reaching the edge of her curls before darting east and heading toward a thigh.

  Her legs weakened. His hands slid around her waist, then dug into her ass, pulling her against his mouth as he trailed his tongue in one direction, then turned the other way. She cupped her hands to his head for strength, but every press of his lips left her weaker.

  “Then at least let me sit,” she begged.

  Accepting her request, he stood and began removing his shirt, when he caught sight of them both in the mirror.

  He lifted a brow. “Mirrored closet doors?”

  She glanced to the foot of her bed, where one wall of her small bedroom had been encased in floor-to-ceiling mirrored closet doors. It was one of the first things she planned to get rid of once she had the money to replace them, never getting used to her own puffy face staring back at her first thing every morning.

  Matt had thrown his shirt on the floor and was pulling condoms from his wallet, the calculating look on his face not settling well with her.

  “Oh, no. Don’t get any ideas,” she warned.

  He pained. “I thought you told the truth on that survey.”

  “Seeing myself naked isn’t my idea of a turn-on,” she said. Pulling his jeans and boxers down off his waist, she saw Matt’s thick cock spring forward, prompting her to add, “Now, seeing you naked is a different story.”

  He scowled and turned back her buttercup eyelet bedspread, pulling out the blue-and-yellow pillows, stacking them against the maple headboard, then settling down on the bed. He leaned back against them so he faced her mirrored wall, then held out a hand.

  “Come here,” he said, and she obliged, moving over his lap and straddling his legs.

  “No, turn around.”

  She looked him in those evil, smiling eyes. “Oh, no. I told you—anything but the mirror.”

  “Why not?”

  Though Carly had never been overly self-conscious about her body, she wasn’t exactly comfortable with it, either, and making love while staring at herself wasn’t tops on her list of turn-ons. “I’m telling you, if you’re trying to make me frigid, force me to stare at myself naked in the mirror.”

  “Babe,” he said, grabbing her waist and turning her around so her back was to his chest. “First rule of great sex is to be comfortable in your own skin.” He spread his legs and motioned her down between them. “Sit back against me.”

  She followed his order, though not happily. “But—”

  “Trust me,” he whispered in her ear.

  Reluctantly she settled against him, a spray of warming afternoon sunlight spilling from the window and warming the chill from her skin. His hard chest felt good against her back, and his erection pressed promises against the base of her spine. She really wasn’t sure of this, but the wonder and anticipation over what he had in mind had her going along.

  “Scoot down farther,” he said. “Rest your head against my shoulder.” And when she did, she found herself staring square at their reflection, Matt’s tanned, handsome face smiling seductively over her shoulder, his strong arms embracing her and those firm runner’s legs stretched out on either side of her hips.

  Feeling much more comfortable with his naked body than hers, she decided to focus on him. He began by smoothing her hair over her shoulders, his warm breath tingling over her skin and causing her to wiggle against the hard cock at her back.

  “No fidgeting,” he said. “I’ve got lots of ideas for you and I’ll have to scratch half of them if you can’t do this.”

  “Do what?”

  He pressed his lips to her neck. “Accept how beautiful you are.”

  A hot flush came over her, but his assuring words piqued her curiosity, and she dared to take a glance. “That’s good,” he whispered. “Keep your eyes focused on the mirror.”

  He circled his fingers around her breasts. “Look how perfect these are.”

  “They’re small.”

  Cupping his hands over them, he replied, “They fit perfectly, see?” before returning to the slow massage. He smoothed his hands down her stomach and around her hips. “I love these curves.”

  She typically referred to it as cellulite, but she kept that opinion to herself.

  “A man likes to know he’s making love to a woman,” he said. Then he clasped his hands to her waist. “Soft yet firm. Exactly the way I like it.”

  The unbridled admiration in his eyes felt contagious despite her discomfort at seeing herself sprawled naked on her bed. His hands roamed over her, trailing fingers over her collarbone and up her neck while he spoke words of appreciation, telling her what he liked about every inch of her until she actually began to believe it. And just in case she didn’t, he occasionally pressed his erection to her back as proof his words were true.

  Slowly she began to relax against him, mesmerized by the feel of his warm hands and the sweet whispered sensations. She’d never considered her body especially desirable, but nestled against his, the contrast of her soft curves against his hard lines, her pale skin against his tanned, rugged flesh, it began to feel sexy. He massaged the tension from her shoulders, toyed with the dark strands of her hair until her muscles fell limp and she’d grown used to the figure staring back at her.

  Instead of fretting over her reflection, she basked in the hard feel of him, the salty scent of man, the warm sun streaming over their bodies. The soft stubble of his chin occasionally scraping against her neck. And when she reached the pinnacle of comfort, he moved his hands down under her thighs and gradually parted her legs, bringi
ng her knees toward her chest and exposing her sex to the mirror.

  She stiffened. “Oh, no—”

  “Yes, baby,” he whispered. “I want you to see how sexy you are when you come.”

  She shook her head and tried to pull her legs back together. “I don’t think I can—”

  “Shh, yes you can.” Slipping his hands between her thighs, he began stroking the flesh around her slick nub, pressing his mouth to her neck and nibbling the sensitive skin just above her shoulder. “Relax and watch the woman in the mirror. If it helps, pretend it’s not you. Imagine it’s an erotic movie on TV.”

  Her body couldn’t help but respond to his touch. Sensations oozing over her, she sank heavily against him, her clit pulsing and aching for more pressure, but she had yet to glance back to the mirror. It felt so good she didn’t want to ruin the pleasure.

  “Come on, babe. Look in the mirror. Watch me looking at you, pleasuring you.”

  Reluctantly she allowed herself a glimpse, catching his face first, and for a moment he held her gaze, nodding his acceptance before guiding her down with his eyes. And when she took in the sight before her, flames of pleasure licked through her.

  Her cheeks were flushed, her breasts had perked tightly, her nipples hard and pointed, and when she caught the rhythm of his fingers in the mirror circling between her legs, one hand digging into her thigh, she leaned back and soaked it all in.

  She had to admit, this was ridiculously sexy. Watching them both was like watching a film with Feel-O-Vision, like some virtual sex machine that pleasured through all the senses. With his fingers spreading her open, she watched her clit pulse as he circled it, moving in close, then sweeping away, coming near, then pulling away, near and away, until she squirmed against the strain.

  A film of moisture glistened her skin, making her appear surreal, and as he increased the speed, her breasts heaved as she began panting for air.

  “This is hot, isn’t it, baby?”

  All she could do was moan.

  He slipped one finger inside, and her moan deepened to a groan. “How about I talk dirty to you?”