Best Laid Plans (35 page)

"About what, sir?"  Perkins inspected the last shrimp
puff carefully before placing it into his mouth.

"She always hated parties.  She was shy and hesi
tant.  And here she is making
cutesy with everyone." 
Noah turned his head.  "Do you know she once
volunteered to work a double shift because she didn't
want to attend the hospital Christmas party and
couldn't come up with a good excuse."

Noah took a deep breath.  "I guess the thing that
really bothers me is her obvious
fame.  It's hard for me
to imagine my wife gracing the covers of magazines or
her eye makeup being copied by millions of women
across America.  Kind of shattering to a
man's ego,
wouldn't you say,
Perkins?"

"I'd be rather proud of Miss O'Brian, if it were I, sir. 
She obviously is quite adept at
handling people and situations.  She seems to take her fame with a
modicum of humility.  There
are other women present,
a few of them models, starlets, and wives of various important men, who
flaunt their status and success ad
nauseam.  I see none of that coming from Miss
O'Brian."

"Why thank you, Perkins," a cheery feminine voice
interrupted.  "That was
a lovely thing to say."

"You're quite welcome, miss."  Perkins adjusted the
cuffs on his formal serving
jacket before standing up. 
"May I bring you something?"

Marlayna lifted her champagne glass.  "No thanks.  I
just thought I'd come over here
and toast Casanova."

Noah snickered.

"Now, now, get that look out of your eye,
Mr. Drake."  She sat in
the reverse direction on the
seat Perkins
had just vacated.  "I saw the way Gwen
fairly sparkles when she looks at you."  Marlayna
rubbed the crystal goblet against his jaw. 
"Of course, I
can't blame
her.  You are especially devastating tonight
in this formal white suit."

"I noticed you have a rather devastating effect on
Arthur,"  came his snarling comment.  "Of course, it
could be that dress."

"This little old thing."  Her voice was high and
innocent "Why I just threw it
on."

"Little is right and you could have aimed better." 
Noah turned his head. 
"Don't you realize the way
every man here can see your body?"

"How insulting!  I've spent the last six years worried
and agonizing over you and now you
have the nerve to attack my morals."

"Not your morals," he shot back, "only your
cleavage!"

She sipped her wine and thought about it for a
moment.  "I always
thought you liked my cleavage." 
Marlayna looked down at her breasts.  "If I
remember
correctly,
you never saw the last reel of
Gone With the
Wind
because you were terribly
involved in exploring
my
cleavage."

He tried to stop the grin that was forming but failed. 
"Atlanta wasn't the only thing burning that
night.  We
really steamed up the windows
in that Maverick.  And you're right --"  the fingers on his
right hand walked up her arm and down between the valley of her breasts. 
"I love your cleavage."

The satin swells burgeoned under his fingertips, the nipples thrusting
aggressively against the thin silk
covering them.  Noah leaned even closer, his warm
breath caressing her ear. 
"It's been an awful long time
since I made love to you any place but in my
dreams."

Marlayna lifted his hand clear of her breast.  "So you
think we can just pick up where
we left off?  Just like
that?"  Her eyes were more ice gray than blue.  "I
haven't even had the decency of an
explanation
about
--"  she waved her hand, "…anything.  And then
of course there's Gwen."

Noah groaned.  "How like a woman to mention
another woman."

"It seems
I'm the
other
woman in this affair."

Did you know there's a drink called
Sex in the
Shower
that's made with blue curacao? How perfect for a blue moon outside
and a hot, steamy shower inside. I'm sure Adam and Samantha would heartily agree.

Rules of the Game by Elaine Raco Chase

While his shuddering
was highly exaggerated, Samantha's was not.  She was shaking, her arms
wrapped around her middle.  "Come on, honey, we're both frozen to the
bone.  Let's hit the car wash." 

"Car wash?" 
She echoed, following him into the large master bedroom.  Whenever they
took a step, soft baseboard lights shown like run-way markers to guide
them.  "Wow, another fireplace," she moved to stand in front of
the heat, shivering against the warmth.  Her eyes widened behind her
lenses, taking in the rest of the large room.  "A round
bed!"  The huge circle, covered with pillows and angled by a leather
headboard that went up the ten foot ceiling, commanded her full
attention.  "Does it do anything?"

Adam winked at
her.  "Depends on who's in it!"  He was bare chested, his
damp shirt tossed on the large wooden valet.  "Come here, let me get
that wet gown off."  Her skin was icy cold against his fingers. 
He tugged down the zipper and pulled the wet stained silk over her head. 
"Christ, I must be frozen because here you are naked except for those
adorable black lace panties and…phftt." 

Samantha couldn't
help but laugh, watching him toss aside his slacks and boxers.  "I
think one of the Seinfeld episodes called it shrinkage."  But her
laughter turned into another round of shivering as she stepped out of her lacy
boy shorts.  "Where is this car wash that's supposed to heat us
up?"

His finger crooked to
beckon her into the bathroom.  "This is every man's fantasy," he
slanted a wicked glance, "at least shower-wise."  Adam pressed
an assortment of commands in the blue touch-screen on the wall. 
"Okay…first heat lamps, next we're getting a waterfall, side water massage
tiles; I'm adjusting both to gentle jets, all at the perfect temperature of one
hundred two degrees.  There's a water saver system, so the pump
re-circulates.  Soft pink lighting.  A light but lengthy steam. 
Music—"

"Music!  I
love to sing in the shower and honestly I don't sound too bad."

His thumb hit the
screen.  "Music off."  His index finger tapped her wrinkled
nose before gently taking off her glasses and placing them on the massive
quartz countertop with his watch.  "After you," Adam pulled the
massive tempered, etched-glass vertical spa door open. 

The instant she
stepped inside, Samantha found herself in a wonderfully warm rain shower with
ten water jets gently massaging her body.  The icy cold that permeated her
bones disappeared.  A long sigh escaped her.  "You were right,
this is perfect."  She turned slightly, letting her spine be the
recipient of the wonderful hydro-streams.  Wide cylinders of water
dispersed across her shoulders and down the center of her back, stimulating the
vital energy acupressure points yet providing relaxation at the same time.

"Fruit or
spice?"

"Hmmm?" 

"Shampoo." 

"Fruit," her shrug was careless, her body
just about ready to dissolve down the drain from the delicious Swedish-style
kneading the jets were providing.  Samantha felt Adam's fingers along with
the fragrant scent of oranges. 

He tempered his strength, gently massaging the shampoo
into her hair.  The sweet, tangy fragrance proved a potent tease to his
heightened senses.  His watched streams of iridescent bubbles slowly
caress a path down her neck over the swells of her breasts to shimmer around
pink nipples. 

Carefully, he pulled her head back, his hands
channeling the rinsing water to protect her eyes and face.  His calloused
fingers gently followed the same path as the shampoo.  He watched, in rapt
fascination, how easily aroused she became when his hands replaced the trail of
bubbles.  Her flat, sleeping nipples quickly turned into hard, responsive
nubs.  Picture-perfect memories formed with each touch.  The taste of
her full breasts: sweet and salty.  How she pulsed wildly around his cock
when he sucked her nipples.  Her throaty little moans and the haywire
shudders he felt when his finger teased her clit.  He was suffering from
sensory overload, and if he kept this up, he'd explode.  But there was no
way in hell he could stop.

She was wetter inside than out.  Hot. 
Wet.  Wanting.  Needing.  Through half-closed eyes Samantha
watched his hands.  The erotic path they sculpted around both
breasts.  The way his thumbs circled her hard nipples while his fingers stroked
underneath.  His right arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her body back
against his.  Her cheek rested on his shoulder, her lips whispered into
his ear.  "I'm feeling that shrinkage is no longer a
problem."  Her teeth gave a gentle tug on his earlobe as his chest
reverberated with laughter.

"Noticed that did you?"  He turned her
around, needing to feel her lips against his.  Needing to taste her
essence.  Needing for two to become one. 

The hydro-jets relinquished control to the light, warm
steam that circulated inside the vertical spa.  Holding her close, Adam
settled on one of the side benches.  He picked her up, settled her on his
lap, facing him.  Her legs instantly wrapped around his waist.  He
reached down, opened her up, and slid his cock into her.  She was wet
enough to sheath him.  Her arms twined around his neck, her cheek resting
against his collarbone, his cock buried deep inside her.  She shifted
slightly.

He looked down her strong, sleek back, the pennant of
blond hair already curling against her shoulders from the steam.  Her skin
glowed pink from the heat and the lights.  His hands moved gently up and
down her spine before settling in the indent of her waist, her buttocks were
balanced on his thighs.  "You okay?" 

"Hmmm…" she nipped his earlobe again,
sighing when his cock surged inside her.  Her right palm caressed a path
down his neck, across the tense muscles of his broad chest to flatten against
his heart.  She could feel the thundering beat beneath her hand in unison
with her own.  He was all there was.  All she needed. 

He lifted her
hips and slid in and out.  Slowly.  Testing.  Her body was
pliant against his, her mouth moving eagerly under his as he swallowed her low
moan and felt her shudder.  That was all it took.  His response was
fierce.  Profound.  The intense need for her consumed him.  The
friction he created was strong enough to cause a fire.  Raw power merged
two into one.  And yet he wanted more. 

Even breakfast picnics can be
erotic and a strawberry can be one dangerous fruit! Cam Stirling dared the
devil every day as a stunt woman. But Luthor Devlin turned into a bigger dare!

Dare the Devil by Elaine
Raco Chase

Cam held his gaze for a long
moment, then looked away.  "You're – you're losing your
strawberry."  Quickly, she rescued the falling fruit but halfway to
her mouth, her hand was captured by his.

"That does belong to
me."

"Possession is…"

"Maybe the perfect
solution would be to share it."

His voice was low, husky, and
its effect on her decidedly hypnotic.  She knew it was seven o'clock on a
bright morning, the crisp mountain air anything but torrid, yet she had the
strangest feeling of being seduced.  She was liking it way too much.

Leaning forward, Thor guided
the strawberry into her mouth, watching Cam's even white teeth sink into the
soft, succulent ruby-red pulp.  The callused roughness of his fingers
belied the tenderness of his touch.  His undeniable maleness provoked a
purely feminine response. 

Her breathing came faster and
her breasts swelled.  She became intensely aware of every square inch of
her body, a body that was screaming for a more intimate connection. 

Moving ever closer, Thor
lowered his head and let his lips become a delicate napkin that blotted the
sweet juice from her mouth. 

The strawberry tumbled into
oblivion.

Cam's hand caressed his strong
jawline, the soft skin on her palm finding pleasure in the masculine
stubble.  When his butterfly kiss deepened with just a hint of increasing
insistence, she emitted a soft, satisfied sigh.

This seems so right, so
natural, so normal. 
His
subconscious issued that profound statement while his tongue made a delicate foray
into the sweet recesses of her mouth.  His fingers filtered through the
blonde curls, luxuriating in the silken strands.  Again and again, his
mouth claimed hers.  Kisses soft.  Kisses tender.  Kisses
deep.  Kisses hungry. 

His body was hungry too. 
Craving to press against hers, hurting to know each womanly curve.  His
hands slid inside the heavy robe, circling her waist.  He knew he should
slow down.  But he didn't.  He knew he should stop.  But he
couldn't.  There was an urgency deep inside that kept driving him. 
Pushing him.  Demanding that he make an indelible imprint
now
. 
An imprint that would brand Cam Stirling his.