Her Favorite Rival (21 page)

It was only a bloody omelet, after all. Glorified scrambled eggs.

“Anything goes when it comes to omelets as far as I’m concerned,” he said. “If it’s in the fridge and not moving or furry with mold, it’s fair game.”

“Interesting philosophy.”

“I’m all about what works.”

“Except for this.” She indicated the two of them.

“Except for this,” he agreed.

They were silent as they ate. He glanced at her, full of questions now that his brain could move past the stunning fact that she’d arrived on his doorstep with sin on her mind.

Like, what had happened today to bring her here?

Because something had. He had no doubt about that. There had been an almost frantic light in her eyes when he’d opened the door, as though she was running from something. Or, perhaps, seeking something.

Distraction? Release? He had no idea. All he knew was that her arrival had felt like a cosmic gift, especially considering he’d already punished himself with a ten-kilometer run and about a million push-ups in an attempt to get her out of his head. Opening the door to find her standing there, barefoot and gorgeous and wild for it, had almost blown his mind.

He swallowed his questions with his food, aware that his curiosity would not be welcome. Why would it be? She’d offered him her body and her passion for a few short hours, not a free pass into her life. Which was why he hadn’t pushed about the tattoo, and why she hadn’t pursued his comment about junkies.

They both were well aware that this was a blip. A time-out. And it was about to end, because she’d finished her meal and so had he. He slid off the stool and took both their plates to the sink.

“Something to drink? Coffee? Wine?” he offered.

“Water would be great.”

He ran them both a glass from the tap and stood on the other side of the counter as she drank it, studying her, remembering this moment for later.

Her eye makeup was smudged from their nap, her mouth bare of lipstick. Her hair was tousled, far from its usual smoothness. She looked approachable and soft and more vulnerable than he’d ever seen her before. He remembered the way she’d watched him as he’d kissed his way down her belly. The way she’d clenched her hands into the sheets as though she was afraid of reaching out for what she really wanted.

She set down her glass. “What are you thinking about?”

“Guess.”

Her gaze dropped to his mouth. “We agreed this was a one-off.”

“We did. The moment you walk out the door, that agreement takes effect.”

She glanced down, her eyelashes sweeping her cheeks. The corner of her mouth curled up into a small, provocative smile. “In that case...”

She stood, one hand smoothing down her skirt in an age-old feminine gesture. She walked slowly around the counter, stopping only when she was in front of him. Her gaze on his until the last possible moment, she leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his shoulder. He felt her mouth open, felt the wetness of her tongue and the subtle pressure of her teeth. She lifted her head and took a step back. She threw him a challenging look as she braced her hands on the counter and boosted herself up so she was sitting on the edge.

“Come here,” she said, her voice rough with desire.

He was already hard, more than ready to accept the invitation, and he stepped into her embrace. They found each other’s mouths unerringly, tongues stroking. Her hands gripped his upper arms before sliding onto his chest to find his nipples. She teased him a little before sliding a hand farther south and gripping him through the fabric of his shorts.

She was so hot. He loved the way she’d taken the lead, and he especially loved what she was doing with her hand. He went on his own roaming expedition, shaping her breasts before sliding his hands beneath the fabric of her skirt. Her thighs were already spread wide to accommodate him, and he smoothed his hands all the way to the top of her thighs. He could feel how wet she was through the silk of her underwear and he stroked her with his thumbs, teasing her. She made an approving sound and started fumbling with the stud on his cargo shorts.

Within seconds he was in her hand and she was stroking him confidently. More than anything he wanted to push aside her panties and slide inside her again, but the condoms were back in his bedroom.

“Audrey...”

“Relax.”

She lifted a hand to the bodice of her dress and removed a small foil square from inside her bra. It took him a second to understand that she must have grabbed it when they were dressing.

“A little presumptuous, don’t you think?” he said as she went to work opening the pack and smoothing the latex onto his erection.

“Are you worried I might think you’re easy?” she said, glancing up from her important work.

“I’m worried that if you don’t hurry, this is going to be a sad waste of a condom.”

She laughed, the sound wicked and saucy and earthy. Then she wriggled closer to the edge of the counter.

“Better do something about these, then,” she said, indicating her underwear.

He had them off her in seconds. Seconds after that he was inside her, sheathed in her wet heat. She gusted out her breath and gripped his biceps, her nails digging in.

“Okay?” he asked, worried he’d been too rough, too fast.

“Yes.”

She bit her lip and he realized she’d been bracing herself, anticipating what was to come. It was tempting to live up to that, to pound into her and rush them toward completion. But this was the last time he’d have her, and he wanted to savor it. To wring every last second of enjoyment from the encounter.

So instead of driving hard, he withdrew till only the tip of him was inside her, only to nudge forward into her again a few shallow inches. He repeated the action, very deliberate, watching her face, loving the way her breathing hitched and the hectic color that flooded her cheeks.

“Still okay?” he asked.

She gave him a look, her mouth quirking up at the corner. “The worst ever.”

“That’s what I thought.”

His own needs firmly in hand, he set himself to the task of driving Audrey wild.

CHAPTER TWELVE

H
E
WAS
KILLING
her. Destroying her inch by inch with his slow, shallow strokes. Audrey could feel the tension coiling inside, could feel her climax building, but it was so slow, each second drawn out until the pleasure was almost pain.

She bit her lip, trying to hold back the plea that was rising in her throat. This was so good, but she needed more. Needed the slap of his body against hers. Needed the urgency of it.

Finally she couldn’t hold back a second longer. “Zach...”

“Yes?”

He watched her, was enjoying torturing her.

“Stop messing with me.”

“Slow and steady wins the race. Didn’t you know that?”

“I want hard and fast,” she said.

“I’m not done here yet.”

There was something infuriatingly sexy about the way he said it. An absolute acknowledgment that she was at his mercy.

“Zach...”

“Do you have any idea how freaking hot you are?” he said. “How much I love watching you?”

She followed his gaze to where they were joined, watched the slow slide of his body into hers, the equally slow withdrawal. Her inner muscles tightened, her heart rate kicking up another notch as a deeper, dirtier excitement gripped her.

“You feel so good. So tight. So wet.”

He slid inside her again, the friction and his voice and his words and the sight of him inside her all combining to push her closer to the edge. He grinned, and she knew that he knew what he was doing to her.

And still he kept it slow, drawing out her climax so that it built second by second, until she was almost scared of how good it felt.

“Come for me. Do it for me, Audrey,” he said, his eyes heavy-lidded and demanding, his dark hair spilling across his brow, his body tense with self control.

It was too much. The final straw. Her climax swept over her, wringing a wordless cry from her throat, making her clench her knees around his hips. It seemed to last forever, tiny, delicious aftershocks rocketing through her as he continued his slow, steady stroking inside her.

Afterward she was limp, utterly spent—and he was still inside her, his grip on her hips possessive. She could see he was close, but she could also see he wasn’t ready to let go yet.

Well, two could play at the game.

“You feel so good inside me,” she told him, hooking one leg around his hips. “So big and hard.”

His mouth hitched at the corner. He knew what she was doing, but she kept it up anyway, telling him how hot he made her, how much she loved his body, loved having him inside her. How she couldn’t get enough of him, how beautiful he was.

By the time she was done the veins stood out in his neck, he was keeping such a tight rein on himself.

“What are you waiting for?” she asked.

“This.”

He found her with his thumb, then started to pound into her with a primitive, urgent rhythm. She was so sensitized, so aroused she screamed as she came again as Zach rammed himself home one last time, his head dropping back as he called out her name.

If she hadn’t already just come spectacularly, the sight of him racked with pleasure, every muscle hard, would have made her lose it on the spot.

Unbelievable.

“Unbelievable,” he said, the single word escaping on a breathless pant.

He withdrew almost immediately, turning away to do something with the condom. He dragged his shorts back up his hips before he turned back to face her. They eyed each other across the distance of a few feet, him with his shorts half-zipped, her with her skirt rucked up around her hips, her thighs still spread wide. They were both breathing hard, and she couldn’t look away from his steady, knowing gaze.

She’d never had sex this good. She had a horrible feeling that she never would again, either. For some reason, Zach did it for her. Pushed all her buttons in the right order, and then some. His body, the smell of him, the taste of him, the feel of him—it was as though someone had sneaked into her subconscious and pilfered the dirtiest, darkest, deepest corners of her fantasies and designed a man whose sole purpose in life was to get her off.

Yeah. He was that hot.

And she was never going to have him again.

She let the painful reality sit in her gut for a few seconds before she pushed her hair off her forehead. Her brow was damp—no surprises there. She had a rough idea of exactly how abandoned and thoroughly pleasured she must look right about now.

Well, he looked pretty shagged, too. In the best possible way. They’d more than held their own. But it had always been like that between them, hadn’t it?

“At the risk of this becoming a habit, do you think you could pass me my panties?” she asked.

Somehow they’d wound up on the opposite counter, sitting next to his egg timer. He passed them over without a word, watching as she slid off the counter. For the second time in an hour she dressed in front of him, smoothing her skirt back down again.

“Thanks for dinner.”

“Thanks for dessert,” he said.

“I think I should be thanking you for that. That little trick you pulled at the end there... Nice.”

“Glad you liked it.”

“I did. In case you couldn’t tell.”

“I had an inkling.”

She wanted to stay and banter with him all night, because the moment she was outside on the pavement, this was history. Nothing but a hot, quickly fading memory for her to take out and dust off whenever she wanted to really torture herself.

“Okay. I should go.” She said it more for herself, because she needed to hear it, than for him.

“All right.”

A little thud of disappointment tightened her belly. Stupidly, there had been a very foolish part of her that had been hoping he might suggest she stay the night.

Not that she would have taken him up on the offer. But it would have been nice for her ego to know that he’d wanted her to.

The guy spent the past three hours making sure you had a very good time. What more do you want from him?

Nothing. She’d come looking for release, for a safe outlet for all the pressure building inside her, and she’d found it. In spades. She’d had her walk on the wild side, she’d transgressed just a little, just enough to make it possible for her to breathe again.

Her work here was done.

“I don’t suppose you know where my car keys are?” Like her underwear, she seemed to have misplaced them in her rush to get him naked.

“No idea.” He grinned, and she knew he was remembering the way she’d arrived, barefoot and more than a little edgy.

Together they returned to the front hall, where they found her keys on the runner. Funny, she didn’t even remember having them in her hand when he’d opened the door. He stooped and passed them to her.

“Thanks.”

She stood back while he opened the door, then moved past him onto the porch. “I had a good time.”

“Good. Huh. I clearly need to fine-tune my technique.”

She arched a skeptical eyebrow. “Oddly, I find it hard to believe that you’re even remotely insecure about your technique.”

“Do you now?”

“Yep. But just in case—” she leaned forward and pressed her lips to the angle of his jaw “—I had a great time. A spectacular time.”

His hand slipped around her waist, pulling her close as he turned his head to capture her mouth. They kissed deeply, wetly, longingly. She could feel him growing hard again, could feel her own desire starting to reignite.

She forced herself to break the kiss. To take a step backward and slip free of his arm.

“Good night, Zach.”

“You can say that again,” he said softly.

There was a look in his eyes, a sort of wistfulness mixed with hot lust. As though he was wishing like crazy that this story had a different ending.

“I’ll see you on Monday.”

His gaze sharpened at the reminder of all they had at stake, his smile fading a notch. He nodded, once, and she knew they were both on the same page. Great sex was one thing, but they both had too much invested in their careers right now to risk blowing it over something so ephemeral and essentially meaningless. Great sex didn’t pay the bills, after all. Great sex didn’t provide superannuation or sick pay or career advancement.