Hot to Touch (Kimani Romance) (5 page)

“Whichever it is, you did a hell of a lot better than a lot of others,” he said, and she turned around to see that there were still several of the others just finishing the course as they spoke.

“And definitely a hell of a lot better than I did the first time I tried,” he said and laughed again.

“You? No way!” she said incredulously, dusting her hands down the front of her shorts some more.

“Yeah way. Came in dead last, if I recall. In fact, my partner had to come and get me for the last quarter mile and drag my sorry butt the rest of the way. I got beat by two girls and an old man. I was lucky they gave me another chance and kept me on. I was pitiful.”

Emma didn’t know whether to take him seriously or not, until she saw the gleam of honesty in his eyes. His self-deprecating humor surprised her. It was at odds with the confident, no-nonsense exterior he presented to the world. Or one he presented to her, at any rate.

Maybe the lighthearted side she glimpsed was the real Shane, the one he rarely showed, yet hovered beneath the surface, ready to break free.

“Truce?” He struck out his hand for her to shake.

“I wasn’t aware we’d been fighting.” She tilted her head to the side, as though considering his offer. “So, truce it is,” she agreed, placing her hand within his. The minute they touched, a small arc of electricity flared between their joined palms, as if with that handshake they’d suddenly reached a turning point in their relationship.

His smile wasn’t quite a full smile, just a slight lifting of one side of his sensual mouth. But her heartbeat leaped in her chest at the way it transformed his face, the smile making her wonder if a truce were a good idea or not.

“Y
es…mmm…” she moaned in a husky whisper.

Her soft, throaty sounds of delight filled the room.

Shane glanced down at her through a hazy vision of lust and sweat as she moaned, her head tossing back and forth on the pillow while his hand cupped and molded her firm, taut breasts.

He lightly pinched one of her nipples, watching in lustful fascination as the chocolate-brown nub pearled. Unable to resist, he leaned down and replaced his fingers with his tongue, capturing it between his teeth, wondering if it tasted as sweet as it looked.

“Hmmm. Delicious.” He mouthed the words against her.

He bit down gently and she cried out sharply, her
body bowing, arching into his caresses. He swirled his tongue, savoring her unique flavor.

With his legs tangled around hers, he felt her sweet cream trickle along his legs.

“Are you ready for me?”

He held his breath, waiting for her to tell him she wanted him, wanted him as badly as he wanted her.

She captured his face between her hands, forcing him to look at her. “Are you ready for
me,
Shane?” she asked, turning the tables on him.

Instead of answering, he grasped his phallus and ran the tip between her sweet, wet folds.

Her swift breath told him she knew his answer.

Spreading her legs, he shifted her until their bodies were in perfect alignment and slowly, savoring every moment, began to slide into her warm, welcoming body…

A loud shrill forced Shane’s eyes to snap open, his heart hammering in his chest, his own hand wrapped around his erection as he was yanked out of his dream.

With a curse, he glanced down at the empty space beside him on the pillow, the dream still achingly vivid his mind.

Although it had been a dream, he could still see her, smell her…taste her.

With another curse, he shoved away the tangled sheets that were bunched around his waist. He slammed a hand over the beeping alarm before heading to the bathroom to take the coldest shower of his adult life.

In her own bed, Emma woke with a cry tumbling from her lips as her alarm went off, forcing her out of her dream, very similar to the one Shane had just had.

With a sigh of defeat, she reached over the side of the bed, picked up her running shoe and threw it at the alarm. She watched in satisfaction as it tumbled off the table and silenced, landing with a thud onto the floor.

“I can’t get away from him, not even when I sleep,” she muttered.

Emma stared sightlessly up at the ceiling, trying to block out the memories of the dream and how good Shane had made her feel; how alive she’d felt from his touch.

If Shane could make her feel that good in a dream she didn’t know that she could handle what he’d do to her in real life. With a curse, she lifted the pillow from beneath her to cover her head, as though to smother out the hot images that lingered in her mind.

H
e hadn’t had sex in six weeks, four days and—Shane glanced down at his watch—roughly four hours.

A Nickelback song blasting from speakers scattered throughout the bar and greeted Shane the moment he stepped inside.

He glanced around, surveying the scene. He’d come here for one reason and one reason only: to find a willing woman for the night and forget everything, and everyone, including Emma Rawlings…if only for a few short hours.

Although discriminate in his choice of sex partners, Shane wasn’t the type to go without for too long. The first thing he normally did after a mission was seek out a willing woman within twenty-four hours of settling
in, particularly after an adrenaline-pumping mission like the one he’d recently returned from.

The fact that it had been over a month and he hadn’t,
had
to be the reason that Emma had appeared nightly, like clockwork, in some of the dirtiest,
wake-up-with-his-shaft-in-his-hand-wishing-it-was-her-who-held-him
dreams he’d ever had.

After their declared truce and subsequent time spent together over the course of the last week, she’d invaded his head during the day and his dreams at night, destroying any chance he’d had of keeping an emotional distance from the beautiful journalist. That is, if he ever had a chance in the first place, he thought, walking toward the bar area.

There was also the attraction that, even though he’d tried to ignore it—as if ignoring it would make it go away—was so palpable, so damn hot and tangible, Shane didn’t know how much longer he could stand being around her without acting on his impulse to take her to the nearest bed and make love to her until neither one of them knew their own names. Maybe that would get her out of his mind, out of his dreams. One time would be all he would need to exorcise from his thoughts the growing desire he had for her.

He ordered a drink and leaned back against the bar, looking over the crowded dance floor filled with gyrating bodies. When the bartender set his beer in front of him, he lifted it to his lips, allowing the bittersweet liquid to pour down his throat, his thoughts still on Emma.

There ought to be a law against the way she filled
out a pair of running shorts. Or the clench in his gut he got every time her dark brown eyes lit up, coupled with the shy smile that curled the ends of her full lips when she accomplished a task.

He had it bad and he hadn’t even seen it coming. The attraction he had for her had snuck up on him, and damn if he knew what to do with it.

He set his beer down on the bar with a thump.

The hell of it was, he knew the attraction wasn’t one-sided. He picked up on her body language whenever she was around him. He’d caught the sidelong glances she’d cast his way when she thought he wasn’t looking; the way her eyes would darken, the unconscious way she would moisten her lips when he stared just a bit too long at them. Unwillingly fascinated…the attraction was there, palpable. And mutual.

She wanted him as badly as he wanted her. Double damn.

The way she stood up to him fed the growing admiration and attraction he felt for her. There was something more in her gaze, besides her attraction to him and her all-around stubbornness. Something she hid well from the others. Something she had obviously practiced hiding, he thought. In the depths of her brown eyes was an uncertainty she tried hard to cover up. Yes, she showed herself as a more than competent woman, had a confidence that most lacked, yet lurking beneath the confidence was an odd vulnerability.

When he’d been pushing her the last week, he’d been pushing at that vulnerability he had picked up on. Hoping to use it against her, hoping it would make
her break. Make her go away and leave him and his men alone.

To leave
him
alone.

With the firm support she had from Roebuck, along with the grudging respect he noted she’d been steadily gaining from the men, he knew getting rid of her was out of the question. And, if he were honest with himself, he was no longer sure he wanted her gone.

Not yet, anyway. Not until…

He’d only messed up in judgment once with a woman, and it had cost him dearly. His jaw clenched as he forced the memories away. Shane tipped back the bottle of beer, lingering thoughts of Emma refusing to go away.

In his mind, snapshot images of the way the sweat made her T-shirt cling to her body, molding her high, firm breasts to perfection, sprang into thought.

He shook his head, trying to clear away thoughts of her. He wasn’t going there. He didn’t want to think of her or the way he felt whenever she was within ten feet of him…or anything else that would interfere with the reason he’d come to the bar. Not tonight.

No, tonight he would put both the mission he’d returned from, along with the troublesome woman, firmly from his thoughts. He glanced around, broodingly surveying the scene. It was an eclectic place, a place where a desperate housewife needing to get away partied with a Brooks Brother–wearing executive, looking for a little action any way they could get it.

The large dance floor was packed with gyrating bodies getting their dance on, to an old Michael Jackson
tune, with an abandon that was testimony to it being a Friday night and there being plenty of alcohol pumping in their systems.

Multicolored lights flickered off the walls from the large strobe suspended from the ceiling in the middle of the dance floor. Split-level, the first floor played a mixture of music and had a large dance floor with bar areas scattered throughout. The first level was what he and most others referred to as the “meat market,” the place to hook up.

The second floor featured another dance floor—this one smaller, along with a several games tables and the prerequisite bar areas as well.

For those who wanted a more intimate place to hang out, the new owners had created a third level on the roof, with music, drinks and an even smaller dance floor; a place where couples usually went to talk and drink.

For his purposes, the main level was what Shane wanted.

The partygoers all mingled; social status meant nothing here. Those out for a drink and open to whatever came their way mingled with everyone else, all looking for a hole to fill, a temporary solace to whatever they’d faced the previous week.

Shane knew the feeling.

Within moments of his entry he’d caught the eye of a few good prospects. As he drained his beer, he did a quick assessment. His gaze collided with a big-breasted, stiletto-shoe-wearing blonde who sat with three equally beautiful friends.

He tilted his head, bringing the beer to his lips as she gave him a slow “come and get it” smile. Instead of walking over to her, he nodded his head in her direction. The wattage on her smile dimmed the smallest bit, but Shane didn’t really care.

After spending a week chasing around one woman, he had no intention of continuing that method of interaction with another. After another minute, he saw her shrug, drain her glass and saunter his way.

“I don’t think I’ve seen you around here. Come here often?”

Shane surveyed the leggy blonde with the husky voice, his glance falling to the pack of cigarettes in her hand. Unlike Emma, whose slightly husky sexy voice was due to genetics, the blonde’s was attributed to years of smoking, no doubt, his glance casually noting the fine, shadowy lines around her heavily made-up eyes and long slashes scoring her thin lips.

He wouldn’t normally go home with a smoker, but tonight he didn’t care.

He eyed the rest of her in a casual once-over. A set of never-ending legs housed a pair of shorts so skimpy that part of her round behind was exposed. Her midriff-baring halter exposed a belly with a small diamond that shone brightly, the gem catching the lights from the club. The upper swell of her large breasts was so high, he could put a table runner over them and set his drink on it. The way she was eyeing him, her thin, red-painted lips parted wide and practically screamed that she was his for the taking…just the type of woman he was looking for, for the night. Someone uncomplicated
and who wouldn’t challenge him at every turn. The exact opposite of Emma, who continued to plague him, to invade his thoughts even when she wasn’t around.

He took a healthy drink from his bottle and set it on the bar beside him. “Not often.” He gave the blonde his full attention. “Can I get you something?”

Her laugh was strangely high compared to her voice, and a bit grating. Shane winced.

“Yeah, but, what I’d like from you isn’t on the menu, sugar.” Her bold gaze traveled over his as she stepped closer, her hand resting on his arm.

Just what he thought. No beating around the bush with this one.

“I’ll have to take a rain check. I’m meeting some of my boys tonight.”

Shane wasn’t sure who was more surprised by his response, him or the blond woman, particularly as he had come to the club with the intent of indulging in the activity the blonde’s eyes promised he’d get.

With a shrug and a “your loss” look, the woman wasted no more time with him. She turned, catching sight of another prospect two bar stools down and walked his way, putting enough sway in her walk to put a seasoned pro to shame.

Shane turned back to his beer, lifting the bottle, but didn’t drink.

What the hell just happened? He’d come for only one reason: to find a woman and get laid. When the opportunity arose, he acted like a scared schoolboy out on prom night and backed out.

In disgust, he drained his beer and rose from his
stool. In his current frame of mind, he wasn’t going to get what he came here for. He might as well cut his losses and head back to base.

On his way to the exit he glanced over at the dance floor and stopped in his tracks.

Laughing, talking with one of the young rookies, was Emma Rawlings.

His loins came to blazing life as the nightly dreams he’d been having, the kind that would put any teenage boy’s wet dream to shame, came racing back into his mind.

Turning, he made his way slowly back to the bar, rethinking his decision to leave. When the bartender came over to ask if he wanted another drink, he shook his head no, pointedly. He needed a clear head.

Positioning himself in a prime spot, he kept his gaze on Emma.

When one of the rookies had invited Emma to go out, her first inclination had been to turn him down, wanting nothing more than a relaxing bath after what she thought of as a week straight out of hell.

Shane had made it his mission to make sure she’d give up. From the physical training to the hours spent watching dusty documentaries on anything from fire hazards to how to strap on a protective gas mask…not to mention the harrowing time in the mock smoke chamber, where she felt like she’d coughed up a lung—the man was relentless in his effort to push her. To prove she couldn’t handle it.

But with every push she gave back everything she
had. Their battle of will created such tension that by the end of the week she no longer knew who she was trying to prove herself to—him or herself.

Despite the truce Shane had declared, Emma was more than a little disappointed with herself at the way she had taken to thinking of him nonstop, even when he wasn’t around.

She shoved the tantalizing images of the two of them locked in an erotic embrace from her mind. She was tired and didn’t really feel up to doing any self-psychoanalysis.

“Looks can be deceiving. What this bar lacks on the outside, it more than makes up for inside,” a voice promised, cheerfully, bringing her out of her thoughts.

She glanced up at the rookie, Jake, who was smiling down at her.

Wanting to foster good feelings between them, needing the men to feel comfortable enough around her to talk to her, to open up about their lives so she could write an in-depth, hard-hitting article, Emma had agreed to go out with Jake and the others, even though she’d only wanted to fall into bed.

She eyed the large, warehouse-looking bar skeptically when they first approached it.

“Well, we’re here…no use turning around now,” was her less than enthusiastic response to the bar’s appearance.

“You’ll love it. I promise it,” Jake said as he’d cupped her elbow and guided her toward the entrance to the bar.
“There’s the rest of the crew. Let’s go.” He motioned to the small group that waited near the door.

She greeted the other rookies, along with the women that accompanied them. A popular song blasted from within. Once inside, Emma was surprised at how spacious it was. From the outside she’d been expecting…well, she wasn’t quite sure what she’d been expecting. But it definitely wasn’t what she saw.

“What do you think?” Jake asked over the loud music, guiding her farther inside along with the others.

“This looks great!” Although she spoke loudly, she doubted he could hear her over the pounding music vibrating off of the walls.

“One of the guys got here early and held a table for us.”

Once they’d settled in and everyone had been introduced, she smiled when Jake pulled out her seat for her.

Emma carefully shifted her body away when he sat down next to her, pulling his chair closer, his hand lingering on the back of hers. She didn’t want the impression given to the others that she was Jake’s date.

“I just ordered a round of beer. It should be here any minute,” shouted the man who held their table, just as a waitress appeared and placed mugs on their table, along with a huge pitcher filled to the top with beer.

When Jake handed her a drink, she shook her head, wrinkling her nose.

“I don’t really drink beer. Never acquired a taste for it,” she said.

“What do you want, then? I’ll get you whatever you drink. Sky’s the limit,” he said and gave her a wink.

“Just a Coke is fine.”

“Aww, come on, Emma. Loosen up. Have a big-girl drink!” one of the women said, and she laughed.

“Okay, how about a rum and Coke, hold the ice?”

“Now that’s what I’m talking about!” Jake replied.

Although she agreed to the one “big-girl” drink, Emma wasn’t about to lose sight of her objective, although she
was
having fun. One drink wouldn’t hurt, she thought.