“What?” he murmured. “Why not?”
Docia giggled, a quick throaty sound against his chest. “We can’t both fit on this couch. Not two people our size. Gravity alone is going to do us in before we get much further.”
“I’m glad one of us thinks this is funny,” Cal muttered and then snickered. In another moment, they were both chuckling breathlessly, their foreheads pressed together.
Docia pushed against his shoulders. “Come with me, Doc. I have the greatest oversized bed you’ve ever seen. I promise we’ll both fit into it with plenty of room left over.”
The bed was big enough for the two of them, plus three or four other average-sized citizens of Konigsburg. Not that Cal was eager for a sextet at that particular moment. A stack of red and blue pillows covered one end of the bed. Tall posts supported some kind of white canopy overhead.
Cal wasn’t really noticing the details right then—he had too much he needed to do, like breathe.
And he couldn’t seem to stop touching her.
Even as he reached for the remaining buttons on her blouse, he couldn’t help grazing his fingers along the smooth white skin of her collarbone, his thumb sinking into the small indentation at the base of her throat.
Docia laughed softly, emerald eyes shimmering in the semi-dark, then pulled the blouse from her shoulders and dropped it behind her. “Your turn.”
He took hold of the bottom of his shirt and pulled it over his head, wishing he’d worn something with buttons too, so that he could have taken it more slowly, let her see a little bit of him at a time. Clothes made him look more normal. Without them, she’d see him the way he really was.
One of his girlfriends in Kansas City—Karen, was it? Maybe Janice—had referred to him as her “great, hairy beast”. She’d meant it affectionately. Cal hadn’t felt the love. But the image had always stuck in his mind after that.
King Kong was about to enter the bedroom.
Docia caught her breath as he dropped his shirt to the floor beside her blouse.
She’d never seen a chest that broad before. His pectorals curved down to his flat stomach muscles. A thick pelt of dark hair covered the surface, arrowing down to the waistband of his pants. He looked primal, like a warrior, like someone who’d lurched out of the forest seeking a mate.
Not that he’d have to do much seeking from what she could see. He could probably just crook his finger and a dozen potential mates would come tripping through the woods without further ado.
She forced herself to breathe in and out while she sorted through appropriate adjectives. Magnificent. Glorious. Spectacular.
“Wow.”
Oh, very good, Docia. Four years of college English and that’s the best you can do?
Cal raised his eyebrows, questioning.
Docia couldn’t stop herself. She reached toward his chest, burying her fingers in the dark, crinkling hair, touching the point of one brown nipple with her pinky. She heard his quick inhale.
His eyes looked slightly glazed. “Now you,” he gasped.
Docia’s fingers dropped to the button at the waistband of her pants, and suddenly her shoulders stiffened. Right then, she could remember every one of Allie’s scones she’d consumed over the last month, not to mention all those plates of tapas Lee had fed her, laden with cheese and olive oil. And then, of course, she also remembered Donnie’s cracks about her love handles.
Oh well, maybe some men like doughy hips.
And she couldn’t do much about spot reducing at the moment. She was who she was, after all. She’d learned that much over the last couple of years.
Docia pushed her pants down to the floor and stepped out of them defiantly. At least she had on some of her better underwear.
Cal watched her for a heartbeat or two, his eyes hooded. Then he stepped toward her, raising his hands to cup her breasts. Docia closed her eyes, feeling the warmth spread outward as the rough calluses of his palms rubbed across her skin. Heat stretched over her body and down to her thighs. His fingers moved and the catch at the front of her bra opened. Her breasts slipped loose as he pushed the straps from her shoulders.
And she stood in front of him, wearing only a scrap of peach-colored silk at her crotch.
Cal stared, his pulse racketing in his ears. There she was again—Botticelli’s Venus with her wild red curls drifting around her face and shoulders. Perfect breasts, high and full. Waist narrowing to a gently rounded stomach. Long, creamy thighs stretching to muscular calves.
Oh God, oh God, oh God.
If he was dreaming, this was when he’d wake up, hard and aching.
“Your turn,” she whispered.
He came down to earth with a thump. This was it. The point at which some of his past sexual encounters had come to an abrupt halt. The time when he’d need to get enough blood back into his brain to soothe, to reassure, to explain that, after all, size was relative and bodies did adapt to each other.
But he might as well get it over with.
He unzipped, pushing his slacks and underwear down together, feeling himself spring free. No point in delaying the moment—he wouldn’t get any smaller.
At least he profoundly hoped he wouldn’t.
Docia’s gaze was riveted on his groin. She stared at his cock, as he’d known she would. His throat was dry with wanting her. Somehow he had to figure out how to say all the things he needed to say to get past this moment. All the encouragement and reminders about how well they’d fit. How they were made to fit together. How if she lost her nerve now he’d probably go jump off a cliff somewhere.
She reached for him suddenly, before he realized what she was doing. Cool fingers wrapped around his shaft, measuring him, sliding lightly down the length of him.
“You’re very big.” Her voice sounded husky.
Cal swallowed, nodding. Even if he tried to speak, he figured his voice wouldn’t be more than a croak. And he wasn’t sure he could speak at all as long as her hand stayed where it was currently.
And then she grinned, eyes sparkling. “Fortunately, so am I.”
When opposites attract, they are screwed three ways from Sunday
Jinxed
© 2009 Inez Kelley
Frannie learned the hard way that a McHottie doesn’t always equal marriage material. She’s happy with her vanilla life. She has friends, a career and a double-D-powered vibrator. Then Fate shoves her, literally, into Prince Charming’s lap. His declaration of love at first sight is cute—and spikes her bullcrap meter into the red zone.
She’s more than willing to give in with her body. But she’s barricaded her heart behind castle walls—and permanently welded the gates shut.
Tragedy taught Jinx that time is too precious to waste, so when a series of uncanny coincidences thrusts Frannie into his life, he holds on tight. He knows she thinks he’s several fries short of a Happy Meal, but he’s determined to breach the fortress around her heart and give her a Happily Ever After.
Even if he has to carry her fanny-first into his kingdom.
Warning:
includes jelly shoes, a narcoleptic cat and meatloaf. The steamy sex scenes may lead to fogged windows and wet panties so proceed at your own risk. Do not attempt to read without tissues, napkins for spewed beverages, and a booty call on speed dial.
Enjoy the following excerpt for
Jinxed:
After slicing two pieces of cheesecake, hers less than half the size of his, Frannie went to the coffeemaker. When she offered Jinx a cup, he agreed but a dare seeped into his tone. “Take one guess how I like it.”
As she poured liquid creamer in her cup, she smirked. She added an equal amount of the rich white cream to his cup and handed it to him.
Chuckling, he took a small sip. “Perfect.”
“You know, this has got to be some kind of cosmic thing.” She pulled her knees up under her on the chair. “It’s unreal how similar we are.”
“Well, there are some important differences,” he pointed out, hiding a smile behind his coffee cup. “I don’t have three romance novels tucked underneath my thong panties.”
“You went through my suitcase!” The accusation in her voice should have made him feel guilty. Instead, he just laughed, arching that devil-black left eyebrow.
“Tell me you didn’t do the same.”
Since she couldn’t, Frannie wisely stayed silent and sipped her coffee. A panicky thought burst through her brain. Had she packed anything embarrassing? No. Her vibrator was still in her nightstand drawer and she hadn’t needed the acne cream so far this month, so she was covered. But just knowing his fingers had touched her underwear made her blush. Peering over the rim of her cup, she caught him studying her with intense eyes. The crackle of mutual attraction electrified the air.
Before she could think of a response, Hocus and Pocus wandered into the kitchen. Idly, Jinx reached down and stroked one silky cat as it twined through his feet. A love-starved Pocus pushed his broad head against Jinx’s calf. With a deep chuckle, he reached lower to pet the animal. A second sneaky black paw darted out from behind his chair. Suddenly, he jerked his arm up, hissing in surprise and pain.
“Hocus! Pocus! Out!” Frannie scolded, sending both cats scurrying into the living room at breakneck speed. Flirtation fled as mortification barreled into the room. Three long scratches just above Jinx’s right wrist oozed blood. He took a paper napkin and dabbed at it as she ran water on a clean dishcloth.
“I’m so sorry. Hocus doesn’t like men but he’s never drawn blood before.” Face burning, she handed him the cloth.
“It’s okay, it’s just a scratch, but it stings like hell.”
My luck he’ll get some weird cat fungus and sue me.
“Come in here. Let me wash it out and put something on it.”
Frannie led him to a small half bath off the hallway. She poured peroxide on the thin red lines and tried to ignore the way he seemed to take up all the space in the tiny room. There was barely enough room to turn around with him standing beside the sink, and she fumbled with the bottle lid. He was too close, too male, too delicious. The scent of pure masculine essence intoxicated her. She couldn’t think straight.
It’s not fair. No one should be capable of making a bathroom a sexy place.
But he did, just by being there. Gone was the easy friendly presence and harmless flirtations which had developed in the kitchen. Here in the tiled closet, he oozed sex appeal.
And I like the ooze, damn it!
He stepped even closer. Concentrating on drying the foaming bubbles from his arm, she tried to ignore the jerk in her heart. His quiet voice fanned the hair at her temple.
“So, no husband, but is there a boyfriend I need to worry about?”
“What?”
Why do I always turn into an idiot around this man?
“If I kiss you, is there a boyfriend somewhere who’s going to clean my clock?”
Frannie raised her head and stared directly into the deep pools of his eyes. Thick lashes framed his searing gaze, rekindling the smoldering fire he had sparked on the plane.
He’s a snake charmer
and I’m dancing to his tune
. Mesmerized, she couldn’t speak and simply shook her head. He took the damp cloth from her hands and tilted her chin fractionally upward with his knuckle. Her eyes closed as her mouth parted in anticipation. Since the encounter on the plane, she’d been dying to taste his kiss. Soft as a snowflake’s landing, his lips settled across hers.
Like met like and the electric surge shocked them both. In the same instant, their eyes flew open and locked. A battery charge, the sexual tension sparked with a blue-hot sizzle. Chemistry collided and exploded into immediate and frantic lust. The kiss rocketed from a timid first taste to frenzied longing.
Frannie moaned as the drum deep inside began pounding. Passion sang through her veins. He nipped her mouth and, without thought, she nipped back, sliding her tongue across his bottom lip. Jinx knew how to kiss—or at least how she liked to kiss—and gave as much as she took, took just what she could give. It was perfect—not too wet, not too dry and just enough oh-my-Gawd-do-that-again. With a half-muttered groan, Jinx pulled her to him, her arms already seeking his shoulders. Like water on satin, her fingers weaved through his hair.
Good Gawd, if this is heaven, take me now.
She met and challenged each thrust and parry of his tongue until they were both breathing harshly. He tasted of creamy coffee and rich cheesecake, two of her weaknesses. A strong suspicion grew that he could easily become a third weakness. She swayed against him, her skin aching to be closer.
Jinx hefted her up until her butt met the cold marble of the sink vanity. Caught between her widespread knees, he framed her face in large hot hands while he drank his fill from the well of her lips. The increased height perfectly positioned her dampening crotch against his straining zipper and he pulled her hips closer. Her feet met behind his legs as she arched to him. The rough fabric of his fly ground into her flimsily covered slick center. The tightening bud nestled there hardened and throbbed, and she let her head fall back, giving full access of her throat to his heated mouth. He found a spot just below her ear that turned her bones to jelly.
So maybe this flavor-of-the-month thing had benefits
.
Consumed with the need to feel his skin, Frannie tugged at his shirt collar and he raised her tee shirt hem. Both tops landed on the floor with a soft
thwap
. Heat engulfed them as passion arced higher. Flesh on flesh, the sparse hair on his chest pricking her nipples, she gasped into his mouth. Jinx seemed as hungry as she was. He cupped a small breast and lightly pinched the tip, swallowing her cry of pleasure. She arched her hips into his groin and felt through thin cotton how hard he was, how hard she’d made him in so short a time. Power surged through her. Clamping her thighs around his hips, she pressed herself harder against the hidden steel. A deep masculine moan sounded low. The rumble deep in his chest vibrated against her swelling breasts, thrilling her. He grabbed her hips once again, pulled her hard against him and rocked his hips forward, lips never leaving hers.