So what was the freaking problem?
Was it some voodoo magic? Yeah, right.
Was he just flying high now that he was living his long-unrealized dream? Possibly.
Was Liv Bell hotter than other women? Absolutely.
So there. A simple answer. It was just pure lust. Nothing to angst over. He was experiencing basic male urges. Although his fierce impatience to assuage them did give him pause. For maybe another two seconds.
He glanced at the clock. Midnight. Fuck—it was late.
He picked up the phone anyway and hit 411 for information.
A few moments later, having received her number, he waited for the connection to click through.
Liv answered on the first ring.
“Did I wake you?”
“I should say yes, but no, you didn’t. For some reason, I can’t sleep.” She wasn’t about to say he was the reason nor that her pulse rate had accelerated big time on hearing his voice.
“Same here. Although I slept all day, so I’m not exactly tired. How are Janie and Matt doing?”
“Good. They’re sleeping.” Is that why he called? Hoping to talk to Janie?
“So what are you doing?”
“Trying to sleep.”
“I’ve been thinking about you.”
“I admit you’ve been in my thoughts, too.”
“How far is it out there?”
“It’s too far. An hour.”
“I drive fast.”
“You shouldn’t. It’s really late, and I have to work tomorrow. ”
“You mean it?”
“No.”
“Give me directions.”
She lay in bed after she hung up, shaking faintly, wondering what had come over her that the mere sound of his voice could make her feverish with longing. She’d never believed such feelings actually existed, that another person could provoke such spine-tingling sensations. When other women had talked about the breathless ecstasy some man provoked in them, she’d always thought they were overemotional wing nuts.
Apparently, she’d been wrong.
Which was good and bad. Good, because what she was feeling was fantastic. But not so good that she was wildly out of control.
She’d never been that kind of person.
The man behind the wheel of Chaz’s silver-gray BMW was speeding north with one eye out for the highway patrol. Less introspective by habit as well as circumstance—in this case, his rock-hard cock was serving as power player—he was pretty much focused on consummation. Issues of restraint or the lack thereof would have to wait until a more coolheaded time.
He glanced at the clock on the dash, flicked his gaze upward to check out the rearview mirror, then quickly surveying the wide-open road before him, punched the accelerator.
His voice of reason tried to make itself heard, clamoring,
Turn around, turn around, don’t get involved!
But his libido was deaf to reason, or maybe the stereo, turned up high, drowned out admonitions to caution.
He had the windows down to the summer night, a prime song was singing the pleasures of foxy ladies and wild sex, and he was on his way to get some.
Let’s see what this baby can do
, he thought, flooring it.
What to wear, what to wear! Tossing the covers aside,
Liv quickly rose from her bed and moved toward her closet, looking for inspiration. Should she greet him like this— naked? Or should she dress or wear a robe or maybe some sexy lingerie? Aaagh . . . stupid indecision, when in the past she wouldn’t have given it a second thought. She would have welcomed him any which way. Dressed or undressed, sexy or not sexy, however the mood struck her. And now she was debating the minutia of sexual politesse as though she’d never had a man sleep over before.
Really, this was ridiculous.
She stopped just short of her closet, her decision made.
She’d put on an ordinary robe, like the blue seersucker one on her chair. Keep it casual. Don’t make this something it isn’t. Sex is sex is sex.
Or not, as it turned out.
Fortunately, it took Jake nearly an hour to reach Liv’s farm, allowing her the opportunity to try on and discard a dozen different outfits. All of which were now—in her haste—tossed out of sight in her closet. Finally, glancing at the clock, she had no choice but to give it up and race downstairs. She wanted to wait on the porch in order not to wake Matt or Janie.
Just as she stepped outside, car headlights appeared at the entrance to her drive.
She stood at the top of the stairs as the car approached and came to rest at the edge of her lawn. She didn’t move as Jake stepped out and walked toward her unless the faint tremble in her hands counted. When he stopped at the bottom of the stairs and smiled up at her, she thought she might come just looking at him. He was consummate male machismo limned by moonlight. Powerful and assured in what she was coming to recognize as his uniform of jeans and a white T-shirt, he looked up at her with lady-killer eyes.
“Nice,” he said, indicating her dress with a lift of his hand. “The age of innocence in moonlight.” Her eyelet dress was pure white virginal chic.
“Thanks.” She tried to keep her voice placid like his but didn’t quite succeed. She touched the Dolce and Gabbana ruffled skirt with a shaky hand. “I didn’t know what to wear,” she added with a whisper-soft naivete that matched her little-girl dress.
It shouldn’t have mattered to him that she was skittish and trembling. He shouldn’t have felt so pleased she was turned on. After all, he’d come for himself, not her. As always. And, as always, he’d remembered to bring something because women liked presents. “Here,” he said, mounting the stairs, holding out his hand.
He came to rest beside her a moment later, and she saw a small cabochon emerald suspended from a slender braided gold chain lying on his open palm.
“Sorry, it’s not something better.” He shrugged. “There aren’t any shops open this time of night except 7-Eleven. I used these in a promotion once.”
Nice promotion
, she thought, recognizing Bulgari. “You didn’t have to—but thanks.” She lifted the necklace from his palm. “I’ll think of you when I wear it.”
A small silence fell, the sounds of crickets and frogs suddenly shrill in the night.
Fuck it, he thought. This wasn’t business as usual; he might as well be honest. “I tried to stay away,” he said. “And yet . . .”
She nodded. “I know. I couldn’t sleep because of you.”
His smile suddenly flashed white in the moonlight. “Glad to hear it.”
She wrinkled her nose. “I’m not sure I like feeling this way.”
His smile this time was sexy and sweet; they were both on the same crazy wavelength. “Maybe I could make you feel better,” he said soft and low.
She gazed up at him from under her lashes. “No doubt.”
He grinned. “I’ll have you know I broke all the speed limits getting here.”
“So I should stop equivocating.”
He held her gaze. “I didn’t know you were.”
“But then you don’t know much about me.”
“How about I’m willing to learn.”
“You’re way too smooth.”
He shook his head. “Believe me, I’ve never raced to see a woman in the middle of the night.”
“So I’m not the only one losing it.”
“Hell, no. I’ve been trying not to call you since I woke up”—he glanced at his watch—“five hours ago. Unsuccessfully, as you can see.”
She smiled for the first time since his arrival. “We have to be quiet with Janie and Matt in the house.”
He grinned. “I’m not the one who screams when they come.”
“Very funny.”
“Look—they won’t even know I’m here.” He took her hand in his. “Show me your bedroom.”
“I thought you might have been calling to talk to Janie,” she noted as he held the door open for her.
“I told you I wasn’t interested in Janie.”
“I know.”
“I meant it.”
“I’m glad.”
Then she put her finger to her lips as they approached the stairs, and they didn’t speak again until she shut her bedroom door behind them.
“Nice,” he said, indicating her room with a wave of his hand. “Everything in one place.”
She had a small office in one corner: desk, computer, file cabinet, bulletin board with wine brochures and catalogues tacked up. Under the farmhouse eaves, she’d had bookshelves built, crowded now with to-read possibilities. A row of blooming white gloxinia lined the top of the shelves. Embroidered white-on-white linen curtains were open, the windows raised high to let in the warm night air.
And then there was her bed.
She’d found it in an antique store shortly after she’d bought her place. She hadn’t been looking for a bed. She’d already bought a serviceable one that would do just fine. In fact, the only reason she’d gone into the store along the highway in Wisconsin was because the sign outside had heralded Lavazza espresso. Now, she wasn’t into psychic events, but seeing that bed smack-dab in the middle of the store when she walked in qualified as a bona fide mystical experience. She’d immediately fallen in love with it. The enormous size and flamboyant scrollwork of twined branches and delicate leaves reminded her of some whimsical fantasy.
She’d asked the price and, thinking she must have heard wrong, asked again.
The owner explained that it had been part of a stage set for Sarah Bernhardt on one of her American tours, so the price was partially predicated on the celebrity factor. “Try it out,” the store owner had pleasantly offered, as if the lady had known the supernatural was seriously at work in her store that day.
When Liv had lain on the bed, she’d felt as though the bed had been made for her or she for it—a feeling of inexplicable comfort and joy had melted through her senses. Not that she didn’t remind herself that she already had a bed
and
she had better places to spend her money. Like on her vineyard.
But it’s so you
, a little voice inside her head had cooed.
And doesn’t it make you feel incredibly, outrageously good?
Liv’s stop for espresso had ended up costing her ten thousand dollars.
“That’s one big bed,” Jake said. “It must have come up in pieces.”
Wasn’t that just like a man. Nothing about its sculptural beauty or antique patina. “Actually, I had the windows taken out and had it hoisted in.”
“It’s old, right?”
“Yes.” No point in mentioning the divine Sarah, she figured when he was talking practicalities.
“It suits you. All sumptuous swank. And I can actually stretch out. Not that I’m tired,” he said with a small smile.
She smiled back. “You had me worried there for a minute.”
“Rest easy, babe. I am
so
primed.”
A small silence fell.
“Sorry,” he murmured. “I didn’t mean to raise alarms.”
“No, you didn’t. Look.” She held up her hand so he could see the tremor. “I might be past you when it comes to being primed.”
Curling his hand around hers, he brought it to his mouth and brushed a gentle kiss over her knuckles. “Everything’s on your terms, babe,” he murmured, his dark gaze direct. “Tell me to stop, I’ll stop.”
“Don’t stop,” she whispered, remembering the rapturous feel of him, the hard-ramming size, his wanting what she wanted as often as she. “And thanks for coming up.”
He lifted his shoulder in the merest shrug. “I couldn’t stay away,” he said gruffly.
“You would have liked to, though.”
Another shrug. “Not really.”
Her brows rose. “I’ve never had such reluctant sex before. ”
The wariness left his eyes, replaced by a more familiar amusement. “Wrong word, babe. This is about insatiable. That’s what’s bothering me.”
“So don’t let it.”
He grinned. “You mean—as long as I’m here.”
“And I couldn’t sleep.”
“Not to mention my cock had a mind of its own.”
“There you go. Obviously, we have no choice.”
He gave her a quick, decisive nod.
Something about his sudden certainty and assurance sent a little shiver up her spine. Or maybe it was him suddenly dragging her against his body and the hard imprint of his erection that inspired her response. Not that she needed evidence of his carnal urgency to goad her. She’d gone sleepless the last many hours thinking about him.
Thinking about sex with him.
Thinking about feeling
this
inside her. Rubbing against his cock, back and forth, back and forth, she purred in anticipation.
Her message came through loud and clear—as if he didn’t know what she liked and how she liked it. Moving backward the few steps to the bed, he sank down, pulling her with him. Sprawled on his back, he settled her astride his hips with a casual strength, shoved her skirt aside, slid his hand between her legs, and glanced up with a smile. “Convenient,” he murmured, running his fingers over her slick pussy hospitably devoid of panties. “No waiting.”