Dirty Distractions (8 page)

And it damn sure wasn’t just an orgasm.

Their gazes fused, and he was lost to her, to the wild urgency surging inside him to claim what was his.

Though she wasn’t. Goddammit.

She spasmed, drenching him in the liquid pulses of her release. Instead of going softer, yielding more, she raked her nails down his back, igniting erogenous zones he hadn’t realized he had. She reared up and scraped her fingers over his ass, pulling him into her so powerfully that her continuous ripples launched him over the edge. Half blind and totally mad, he muffled his shout against her throat, inhaling her sophisticated fragrance while she fucked him damn near into unconsciousness.

Her arms came around him. Silken bonds he had no desire to work his way free of. Ever.

Mushy asshole
.

Just as he was about to drift off, she coughed and the condom she’d clamped between her teeth hit his shoulder.

He looked up and noted her grin. “See? Kept you quiet, didn’t I?”

“Yes.” She nipped the top of his ear and his cock twitched inside her. Jesus. He’d be locked and loaded again in no time. “Next time I won’t make it so easy on you.”

“Oh, that was easy, huh?”

She pushed him onto his back and propped her elbows on his chest so that her hair tumbled down around them. Despite the move, he remained lodged in her sweet pussy. “You forget I’m sickly and weak,” she teased, gyrating her hips. “But what do you know, I’m feeling better already…”

With a dramatic sigh, he tipped his head back into the pillows. “You’ll be the death of me, Doctor.”

“Only if you’re lucky, O’Halloran.”

Chapter Six

“Uhh. Come in.”

Sara rubbed the persistent itch on her nose. She’d awakened to what she was sure were cries of passion, but they weren’t hers. She patted the empty, cool spot beside her in the bed. They weren’t Brad’s either.

Brad. The smile stole across her face as she snuggled down into her pillow. Her lover. And what a lover he was.

“Ooh, come in. Come in!”

She jerked up on her elbows and stared at the bird circling his cage across the room. Had Telly really just asked her to come in? His vocabulary was expanding all the time—

“Come in, come in hard!”

“Oh, Christ,” she muttered, pressing her fingers to the dull throb in her forehead. Great. Her bird had witnessed her night of debauchery, and apparently they hadn’t been nearly as quiet as they’d hoped.

It was all Brad’s fault. What that guy could do with his hips should be illegal. And his stamina… He took
go all night
to new levels.

She swung her legs over the side of the bed and winced. Which accounted for the burn between her thighs. Well, that and his stubble.

“Oooh, oooh, uhh!”

“Okay, that’s enough of that.” Sara rose and hobbled over to Telly’s cage. She’d used muscles last night that had gone into dormancy the last few months, and holy Toledo were they screaming today. “You trying to rat me out, Telmeister?” She’d been working with him on his vocabulary since he was a baby, and didn’t it figure he’d jumped a grade ahead in his learning overnight?

“Uhh, come in!”

The giggle spilled out of her as she leaned her face against the bars. He shuffled closer and pecked her forehead, his version of a birdy kiss.

“Nope, no more coming of any kind today.” She’d sort of made a resolution in the wee hours of the night. It involved taking a couple days to reevaluate the abrupt change in her relationship with Brad over the past week—

“Hey, gorgeous.”

His voice dripped over her spine like melted caramel, hot and sweet. Her pussy actually tingled as if it missed him. No doubt there. Of course it missed him. When needy body parts made good friends with others that fit into them so enthusiastically, why wouldn’t they swell up and get all wet in anticipation of their next meeting?

She swallowed and shut her eyes to give herself an extra moment to prepare. Maybe he’d look really bad this morning. Exhausted and bloodshot-eyed and rumpled. Not sexy at all. She’d view him in the unforgiving light of the day and tell him in her best professional voice that they should assess where they were now that they’d become intimate.

“Come in, come in, ooh, uhh!”

Brad’s laughter made her grin in spite of herself. “Sounds like the bird’s frisky.”

“He’s a terrible mimic.”

“I don’t know. Sounds pretty good to me.” Brad’s voice lowered. “Somebody gets noisy when they’re knocking on heaven’s door.”

God help her, but she giggled again. Like a teenager. Or a woman in lo—lust. Strong, deep lust.

Bracing herself, she glanced at the doorway. He leaned against the jamb, wearing pajama bottoms and a smile. His blond hair tousled instead of rumpled, his eyes bright and alert rather than bloodshot. He held a cup of coffee she assumed was his until he extended it to her, murmuring, “Here, kitty, kitty. Got something for you.”

She arched a brow and ignored the fragrant steam rising from the mug. He could not lure her that easily. “Why don’t you come here?”

Wrong word.

“Come in, come in, hard!”

“Jesus, Telly,” she muttered, covering her face with her hand.

Brad laughed and crossed the room to her, pushing the cup into her hand. He brushed a kiss over the top of her head. “He’s not the only one feeling frisky this morning,” he said, his breath stirring both her bangs and her so-not-languishing sex drive.

Before he could direct those damnably distracting lips at hers, she took a long sip of coffee that seared the roof of her mouth. Ouch. She choked and rubbed her eyes, praying she didn’t look as wretched as she felt. Or maybe that was a good thing. If she did her best impression of a weepy-eyed grouch, perhaps he’d give her some time to think. To make sense of all this insanity.

“How’s Kim?” she gasped between coughing fits.

“Bitching and eating corn flakes. She’s already complaining she won’t be able to wear her crazy heels with her dress at the benefit.”

“Is she hurting a lot?”

“Hard to tell. She’s grumbling too much to mention it.” Brad tipped up her chin and caressed her puffy lower lip. Yep, she’d burned that too. One stroke of his thumb and her clit pounded to get his attention. Damn her suddenly sociable body. “You gonna be weird now? Thought we’d moved past all that when you begged me to fuck you.”

Indignation rose and smothered embarrassment. In the range of inappropriate emotions, indignation was always preferable. “I didn’t beg. Exactly. I strongly suggested it early this morning.” When she’d awakened to find his fingers in her pussy and his warm tongue on her breast.

“Guess I’ll always have to gag you when we have company in the house.” She stiffened when he leaned closer and nudged her belly with his rigid cock. “Lucky for me I can think of things to put in your mouth.”

She stepped back and swallowed more coffee. It didn’t do much to clear the desire haze now wrapping her brain in layers of Brad-scented cotton. “Thank you for the coffee. I’m starving.”

“Not for me, apparently.”

“Brad—”

“No, I get it. Furtive night fucks are one thing. Kisses in the morning another.” His tight smile as he turned away made her ache for him, and this time not just his body. “I’m on my way to work. Catch you later, babe.”

She frowned and stared at his retreating back. “Wait a second. I have to go into work today. Who’s going to stay with Kim?”

“I’m not a damn invalid!” Kim yelled, clomping up the stairs.

Sara rushed to help her. Brad had already slammed his bedroom door. So much for his being interested in helping his sister. He was probably poking the eyes out of the stuffed macaw Sara had bought him at the sanctuary gift shop a few weeks ago. Right then, she didn’t blame him.

As she helped her best friend shuffle to the bathroom, she heard Telly’s distinctive call from the bedroom. “Oooh, uhh, ooh!” Not again.

Kim’s eyebrows knitted. “What’s up with your bird?”

Sara’s face flamed. “He’s hungry. I forgot to bring up his food from downstairs.”

“Come in hard!”

She yanked on Kim’s arm. “Hurry.”

“Sounds like he’s horny, not hungry.” Kim elbowed her in the ribs. “Maybe he needs a woman. Aww, a pair of lovebirds. Wouldn’t that be cute?”

She nudged Kim up the hall. “No. The bird’s celibate.”

“Huh. Sounds like you lately.”

Sara licked her lips as Telly started chanting about coming again. A small smile curved her lips. “Yeah. Like me.”

Sara turned up the radio and tapped her hand on the wheel to Joan Jett as she drove home from work. It had been a four-aspirin kind of day. A potential patron had pulled out of the benefit at the last minute, leaving her with a hole to fill. The fundraising dinner was a big part of what kept the sanctuary going, and donors were hard to replace this close to the event. She’d spent way too long trying to come up with a solution, though she’d finally zeroed in on a potential target. Then she’d had a grant proposal to review. After two hours of fine-print fun, she’d gone with the two-fisted remedy of a raspberry latte and a chocolate bar. Even her usual stress buster of visiting the simulated rainforest hadn’t helped. Irritable birds and a cranky Sara apparently weren’t a good mix.

Now she’d have to spend the night sequestered in her room, listening to her bird recount the previous night’s lovemaking. Talk about creepy. And embarrassing. She would not succumb to lustful urges, even those provoked by her sex maniac conure. She’d wanted time to think, to mull, as it were, and she was taking it, calmly. There would be no drama in her love life or her household.

Ohmmm
.

She cruised down the big hill that led to home, trying to concentrate on the breeze in her hair and the pleasant fact that her cold had receded to a mild tickle at the back of her throat. Everything was going well. Super, actually. As soon as she got home, she’d kick off these heels from Hades, shed the pencil skirt and dig out her fuzzy bunny slippers. She’d make a big green salad and—

Her damn car had stalled at the stop sign at the bottom of the hill.

Exhaling deeply, she turned off the car and turned it back on, fully expecting the engine of her sedan to roar to life. Veronica had never been anything but reliable, even on the long drive across the country. She didn’t believe for one moment that she would pick today of all days to break down.

She cranked the engine twice more and got nothing. Not even a stupid click.

“Goddammit.” She climbed out and gave Veronica a good kick in the tires. Now what? She was only a quarter mile from home, but what about her heels? She really did not relish walking any distance in them. And what about her car? Maybe Triple A could come check it out. If she had Triple A, which she no longer did since she’d been encouraged to drop it by her sexy, way-too-persuasive, entirely-too-good-with-his-hands roommate who insisted he’d be able to service her vehicle whenever she needed it.

Except right now, when she happened to be avoiding him like some adolescent girl with a crush.

“Suck it up, buttercup,” she muttered, her thumb hovering over the number Brad had programmed into her phone for his shop.

A screech of brakes made her look up to see Kim’s next door neighbor’s bright blue Mustang idling behind her poor car. Derek wasn’t a bad guy, he just happened to be the type she’d learned to steer clear of at all costs. He flashed a blinding, fake smile at disturbingly frequent intervals, had a bad comb over, and possessed the requisite grabby hands. Not to mention the hot car he drove that was supposed to magically erase twenty years and add approximately three inches of penis length.

But maybe he could take her to a service station that wasn’t Brad’s. If so, she might rethink her less than flattering assessment.

“Hey there, little lady,” Derek said in a booming voice as he slithered out of his car with a creak of arthritic knees. “Your spark plugs a little dusty or something?”

Or perhaps not.

“Not sure what’s going on. Could I have a ride, please? In your vehicle,” she added with a quick smile. “My car appears to be dead.”

“You have Triple A?”

“No. Drop me off at O’Halloran’s if you wouldn’t mind. One of the guys can come back here to give me a tow.” Seeing Brad might stir up all sorts of feelings, but she’d take her chances with her libido over extra minutes spent in a cramped space with Wide Toothy Smile.

Especially since her skirt was just tight enough to have earned more than the standard leer he usually aimed her way. No, this was a full-on visual sexual assault.

Amazing her bottom didn’t have burn holes.

Derek shook his head. “O’Halloran’s is a small operation. Not a lot of techs there, and I know you must need your car fixed right quick. Let me bring you to the Quickie Lube on Route 16. That’s where I bring my ‘Stang.”

Route 16? Miles and miles away? Oh hell no. Her smile flashed again. “Thank you, but O’Halloran’s is the best in the area. If you’re not headed by there, I’ll call Brad—”

“No, no need for that. I’m here, aren’t I?” He patted his noticeably puffed chest. Telly didn’t strut around half as much as Derek Winters did. “Here, get on in, Sara dear.” He held open the passenger door with a flourish and motioned her inside.

After turning on her sedan’s hazard lights, Sara hurried around the car and murmured her thanks. It was only a three-minute ride. What could possibly happen?

Other than a few near knee grabs, a thick-fingered arm pat, and a heavy whiff of tuna fish breath as Derek leaned across to open her door once they arrived at Brad’s shop.

He insisted on coming inside with her though she asked him—damn near begged him, actually—not to. The last thing she wanted was for Brad to go all caveman and start asking why they were together. Not that she’d ever witnessed Brad going caveman, but the guy had more than enough testosterone that it wasn’t a leap to imagine he might. Add in their awkward morning after, and things probably would be strained enough without any unnecessary fuel for the fire.

Derek marched up to O’Halloran’s door and held it open, ushering her inside. She tried once more to get him to leave as she stepped onto the paint-spattered concrete floor. “Thank you, Derek, I appreciate it, but—”