Hands Off
Authors: Lia Slater
Tags: #erotic romance, #contemporary romance second chance at love
Copyright © 2013 Lia Slater
All rights reserved.
HANDS OFF is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are all created by the author and bear no connection or resemblance to actual events, persons, living or dead.
Cover design:
© Viola Estrella - Estrella Cover Art
Cover photograph: © Artem Furman - Fotolia.com
Copy Editor: Amy Eye
Proofreader: Anne Victory
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HANDS OFF
Lia Slater
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Dedication:
For anyone who deserves a second chance at love.
Acknowledgements:
As always, many thanks and love to my hubby for continued support and having a listening, caring ear for when I need to vent, cheer or just babble.
I want to thank the pioneers of “indie” publishing for leading the way so authors like me can feel liberated and in control of our writing careers.
Thank you to my buddies at Colorado Romance Writers for inspiring me, accepting me, and always supporting me.
Thank you to my critique partner for not only being my motivation but a good friend as well.
THE DINNER PARTY GUESTS were in high spirits, joking and laughing, but Naomi Hill couldn’t concentrate on a single word. Underneath the table, Jude’s thigh brushed against her leg once more. Her short dress provided no barrier from the close contact, and the soft cotton of his pants tickled and teased her bare skin.
Even more distracting was the faint scent of his aftershave, which energized her otherwise dull senses each time he leaned over to speak.
She sniffed in a deep breath. Spicy with hints of cinnamon and sage. A scent that was becoming more and more familiar, making her forget the past.
Making her forget Davis.
Naomi swallowed against the perpetual knot in her throat. Three years had passed since she’d lost her husband, her high school sweetheart. And she knew it was silly to feel guilty for being attracted to another man. Every one of her friends and family members had told her to move on. Their words were always the same.
You’re young, only twenty-nine. You can’t grieve forever.
Yet she couldn’t knock herself out of the slump. Not entirely.
The one spark of hope sat beside her, provoking her, stirring emotions, enticing neglected parts of her body. Turning her on.
Maybe “spark of hope” was an understatement. Simply sitting beside him aroused her in a way she hadn’t been in a long, long time.
She glanced to her side to see Jude taking a long sip of champagne. The glass flute looked too dainty in his large hand, like it might shatter under his tight grip. His handsome face was somber, as usual. Brooding. His dark chestnut hair was three weeks past his scheduled haircut, an appointment he always missed. Too busy.
He set the flute down and gave a best-effort, tense grin as more laughter erupted at the other side of the table. The tautness of his face caused the scar on his jaw to slant downward—one of several scars Jude had acquired in his tours in the Middle East. This one had marked him after shrapnel hit him after a bombing.
Davis, her late husband, had revealed one night as he lay in bed deteriorating from his last chemo treatment, that he’d felt ashamed of attending college while Jude left to serve the country. Four years at the University of Colorado versus four years at war.
In the end, the two men ended up in the same place—opening and running a software company that had swiftly made them both millionaires.
Frankly, Naomi couldn’t have been prouder of them both. She only wished—God had she wished—Davis hadn’t succumbed to such a terrible fate. He’d been her age. Young. Ready and able to take on the world.
After Davis’s passing, Jude had sold their business for a hefty amount and half had gone to her. Then he’d quickly lost himself in a new project, one that seemed to be just as, if not more, successful. Impressive, yes.
She stole another glimpse of him, enjoying the delightful jolt that arrowed down her center and settled between her thighs. Why hadn’t she noticed how gorgeous he was years ago? Why hadn’t she felt anything for him then?
She knew the reasons. She’d been so in love with Davis. Her world had been wrapped up in one man.
Which brought up other thoughts. With Jude’s darker hair, olive skin tone, and lean, muscled body, Naomi thought he couldn’t be more different in appearance than Davis’s slim, lanky frame and light blond features. Their personalities were different too. Davis had always been the life of any party, whereas Jude was more of an introvert.
He disliked these dinner parties as much as she did. Yet he endured them just as she did. They shared the same friends, and several months after Davis’s death, Jude had made a pact with her to remain as social as much as possible—to not give in to the desire to cry, scream, or rage wholly in solitude.
Jude had taken Davis’s death almost as badly as she had. He’d been Davis’s best friend as well as his business partner, which only heightened her guilt for wanting Jude,
needing him
, in a way she hadn’t experienced since before Davis had gotten sick.
Shame should consume her. But her craving for his touch was about the only emotion she’d been able to conjure in over two years. The crying spells had dissipated and had taken everything with them.
To confirm—once again—she lifted her fork to her mouth and tasted Millie’s homemade cherry tart. Sadly, the dessert that used to make her moan tasted like chalk on her useless taste buds. She took one more bite and forced a smile when she caught Millie staring from across the table.
“It’s delicious,” Naomi said, then sipped on her champagne... champagne to celebrate Millie and her husband’s new home. Naomi knew she didn’t sound sincere, but what else could she do? The ten friends who sat at the table had stuck by her through everything. They’d kept inviting her to their parties, no matter that she was no longer the fun, outgoing person she’d used to be. She owed them her sanity.
Millie gave her that knowing look, raised eyebrows and a thin smile. She’d always seen right through Naomi. “Glad you like it. Now help me clear the dishes.”
“Right.” Naomi looked around to see everyone else’s plates were empty while three quarters of her tart and her chicken entrée remained.
She stood and reached for Jude’s plate, unintentionally brushing her breast against his shoulder. Jude jolted his attention up, branding her with light, pear-green eyes. She stumbled backward. His reflexes were fast enough to grab her wrist and steady her before she fell against the chair.
“Sorry,” Naomi said, getting her footing and averting her gaze to his plate. “Can you hand me that?”
“You okay?” His voice was low and deep, only for her. The question had become a mantra between them.
“Yes. Fine.” She made eye contact to assure him.
Bad idea.
His hand on her wrist was warm, and as his thumb brushed the inside of her arm, she squelched a sigh. A touch like this should be harmless, yet her body ached for more. It had been so long since she’d felt affection from a man. And Jude was such a fine man. Carefully bridled intensity hid behind his alluring eyes. Powerfully sculpted lips frowned with concern for her.
Always concern.
“Do you need help?” He released her, gathering his neighbor’s plate and stacking it on top of his.
Yes. Lots of help
. “No. I’m fine.” Fine, fine, fine. Life was all around fine.
She succeeded in collecting a few dishes, then strode from the room before she did something she might regret. Like, say,
intentionally
brushing other body parts against him. Poor man didn’t know he was in danger of being assaulted.
Millie waited in the kitchen with a goofy grin.
“What?” Naomi set the dishes down and fanned her heated face.
“I saw you almost fall over Jude. When are you going to tell him you have the hots for him?”
“Tomorrow. Or more like never.” No point in denying the attraction. Naomi had shared her thoughts about Jude with Millie after one too many martinis one night about a month ago.
“Notice how he keeps checking the time on his phone?” Millie asked.
“Yes. I heard him tell Michael he has a date.”
“Another date, another bimbo.” Millie rolled her eyes.
“Who still says bimbo?” Naomi smiled.
“Listen to me, honey buns.” Millie playfully whipped a kitchen towel at Naomi’s backside. “Don’t wait until he finds a bimbo who sticks. You should talk to him tonight before he leaves.”
“Tonight?”
“Absolutely. You so deserve to get laid. By him.”
Naomi listened as laughter roared from the other room. Thankfully, their friends were a loud bunch and couldn’t hear this conversation.
“I thought about it,” Naomi admitted. “I could ask him for a mercy lay.” She laughed halfheartedly.
“Please. Have you looked in the mirror in, say, ever? You’re hot, Nay. That dress. Scorching. It’s one of your designs, right?”
Naomi ran her hand along the slinky fabric. She’d designed this one for herself with Jude in mind.
“And this new haircut we did on you”—Millie reached up and patted the bottom of Naomi’s chin-length bob—“Talk about sexy. Good choice.”
“Thanks. You’re a miracle worker.” Millie was the best hairstylist Naomi knew. There wasn’t much you could do with pin-straight black hair, so Naomi had been pleased.
“Anyway...” Millie picked up a random glass and drained the champagne. “Tell him however you want. But tell him. Honestly, the protective way he is with you, I have to think he wants you too.”
“Protective,” Naomi repeated. “Like I’m his little sister. God, what if he thinks of me that way?”
“Then teach him otherwise. He’s a red-blooded man. Flash him your breasts. He’ll come around.”
“What would Davis think?” she said, more to herself.
“Davis would want you to stop starving yourself of life and happiness. Davis would be sad that you’re denying yourself basic human needs. Now, bless his soul, stop talking about him. Just for tonight, stop thinking about him. Think about Jude.” Millie leaned in and whispered, “Think about what you could
do
with Jude. My husband is a fine-ass man, but if I were single, I wouldn’t hesitate to hike up that mountain and ride hard.”
Naomi grabbed an opened bottle of champagne and took a swig. “Do you have anything stronger?” If she were going to be numb to the world, then she might as well help herself forget what she was missing out on.
Jude. Naked. Sweating. Groaning with pleasure. Touching her body.
Fucking her.
Oh, God.
“You don’t need alcohol,” Millie said, breaking her thoughts. “You need opportunity. And I have an idea.”
Naomi shook her head. “I don’t like your ideas. They usually end up with me having to apologize to someone.”
And this was too important to screw up. They were talking about Jude. No-nonsense, brilliant Jude. A man whom the national media had labeled “A Man to Watch,” as well as the local media playfully naming him “Denver’s Most Lickable Eligible Bachelor.”
Some might call him intimidating. Only she knew him better than that. He was Jude, the boy she’d watched grow up and transform into a man. He’d matured from tall and thin to tall and beefcake. From shy and awkward to brooding and respected.
From Davis’s best friend to her best friend. And damn it if she didn’t want to be the only one to lick him.
Millie laughed. “True. We’ve had to apologize once or twice. But trust me on this one.”
“What do you have in mind?” Naomi asked, feeling desperate enough to encourage one of her friend’s spontaneous plans.
Millie tapped her chin in deep thought, then something sparked in her eyes. “This is a housewarming party, right? I’ll make up a game and create a way for you to have some alone time with Jude. All you have to do is tell him how you feel and let the ball roll from there.”
“Oh, geez.” The champagne gurgled in her stomach. “What if he isn’t attracted to me and I ruin our friendship? I don’t want to lose him.”
“You won’t. Jude’s a good guy. And you can always blame it on the champagne.”
“Right. Good idea.” Yes, she was incredibly desperate. Her craving for Jude’s touch had grown to where he was all she ever thought about. If she didn’t take a chance tonight, she’d wind up at home in bed, wondering what he was doing with yet another woman. Another date with a woman who wasn’t her.
“Yay!” Millie cheered.
“But wait. How do I go about initiating this? Just say ‘I want to have sex with you. Take me now. Tonight.’”
“Yes. I couldn’t have said it any better.”
JUDE COLTER HAD HIS hands full of dishes and his back against the kitchen door when he overheard the last part of Naomi and Millie’s conversation.
So she wanted to have sex? Tonight? With someone here?