How to Knit a Wild Bikini (18 page)

Except…“Fern.”

“That’s all up to you, cookie. If she comes downstairs, I’ll look like I’m just sitting here watching TV, while you—” She gasped as his finger took a quick foray beneath the elastic and he smiled, smug and male. “While you can either look innocent or wicked. Your choice.”

Innocent or wicked? Her choice?

She had no choice. It was all deliciously orchestrated by Jay, by his stealthy, nimble fingers. They went farther now, sliding away from the crease of her thigh to toy with her through the dampening fabric of her pan ties.

Her breath moved in and out of her throat and her face burned. This was crazy. And exciting. The hidden, under-the-covers aspect of it made her feel like she was seventeen and playing with her daring boyfriend in her parents’ living room.

Just something else she’d skipped, like those movie-theater and at-the-prom kisses.

Two of Jay’s fingers traveled higher, then slid under the waistband of her underwear to dip shallowly into the softening center of her body. She was so wet there that it sort of embarrassed her, except that she saw a little smile of satisfaction come over his face. He drew the moisture up, stroking it over and around the soft layers of her sex, though missing the one magic spot he’d made her touch the night before.

She wanted to moan, squirm, heck, suck on his tongue, but he was acting avid television viewer and she was aware of Fern, who could come tromping down the stairs at any time.

One long finger slid inside her body. Deep.

She went rigid, swallowing her groan, but her muscles clenched down on him as he circled and plunged again. The slight soreness only, perversely, made his intrusion more exciting. Her flesh throbbed and she whimpered with the naughty delight of it all. “Jay…”

There was a flush high on his cheekbones and his jaw hardened as he glanced over at her. His eyes glittered as they cut her way. “Shhh, baby. Innocent, remember?”

But she couldn’t feel anything but wicked as he slid another finger inside her. Her hips lifted into him, desperate for him to thrust deeper, to take her higher, to touch her
there.

He glanced over again. “Pull up the blanket, cookie. You’re distracting me.”

Oh, God. She looked down to see her hard nipples poking against the thin fabric of her bra and T-shirt. Her fingers trembled as she covered herself, and he nodded, his gaze lifting to her face.

“Good girl,” he whispered, then rewarded her by sliding his whole hand into her pan ties so he could push deeper inside her and brush across the top of her sex with his thumb.

She jerked into his touch, even as she tried to hold herself to the cushions. He stroked there again, and her womb twitched, her inner muscles tightening on him with the same pressure as the plea sure that was squeezing like a belt around her hips.

This was dangerous, wasn’t it?

Play
, she could hear Jay’s voice in her head, gentle, casual, charming.
Play.

He was watching her now, and she went hot from her collarbone to her pubic bone, so hot she had to close her eyes, too. His fingers were still inside her, and only his thumb was moving, strumming her like an instrument, fooling with her body that was straining, straining for her second-ever orgasm.

“Touch yourself, baby,” he said. “Do it for me.”

Her skin blazed, but her hand moved slowly under the blanket. His thumb moved to make room for her.

“That’s right,” he coaxed. “Touch yourself and make it happen.”

She wanted to. She had to. She did.

Oh, God.

The climax washed over her, through her, toppling any leftover concerns, and she held on to it as long as she could, gripping his fingers with muscles that shook with the sharp, sweet bliss of peaking satisfaction. She wasn’t any teenager getting a furtive thrill, but a woman who had been denied for too, too long.

Her breath was still caught somewhere between her chest and her throat when she heard clattering footsteps on the stairs. Without looking at Jay, she jackknifed out of her slouch. His hand drew away from between her thighs, though he slid a warm palm along her leg as he sat straighter on the cushions.

When Fern entered the living room they were both seemingly engrossed in entertainment news. Nikki struggled to gather her thoughts together. Oh, man. Her “professional” plan was blown to smithereens, but she had to recoup
something
. She had to come up with a way to equalize things between herself and Jay.

Tuning into the broadcast, she recalled that noble, holy purpose she’d struck upon the first day they’d met. He had to learn that every woman wasn’t a complete pushover when she came up against his playboy charms.

“You have Hollywood connections, handsome,” she said, inserting a sugary wheedle into her voice. “Can’t you somehow connect your favorite lesbian girlfriend with the object of her affections? Especially since we’ve just learned she’s in town shooting a new music video?”

Jay sent her a look. “This Madonna fixation of yours has got to stop.”

“Why?” She batted her lashes at him, copying a move she’d seen Cassandra make on Gabe. “When she makes me so,” her mouth silently finished the word, just for him,
hot
.

His eyes darkened. He half rose from the couch, her hand already squeezed by his. Now this was more like it. He seemed as turned on as she had been moments before. If what they had wasn’t professional, at least it could be power-balanced.

Fern reminded them both she was still in the room. “You guys are so weird,” she pronounced again. “I’m going to meet Marie. I’ll be back at seven.”

The front door slammed shut behind her.

Within the next breath, she and Jay were scrambling for his bedroom. When he saw her limping, he swung her up in his arms and she shrieked.

And then again, as he tossed her onto the bed and followed her down.

“We have to be done by seven,” she said, breathless.

“I’m a journalist,” he reminded her, his mouth already on her neck. “I work best with a deadline.”

And it was just like that between Nikki and Jay for the next several days. Sneaking around Fern to revel in sizzling exchanges wherever, whenever they could. Again, just like two high schoolers who couldn’t get enough of each other, they traded luscious kisses behind the screen of the pantry door, they trailed fingers over each other’s hot skin while parked in the shade of the lot at the grocery store, they shared an ice-cream cone and it felt as intimate as sleeping on the same pillow.

Nikki didn’t spend another night because there was a teenager in the house, not because of any rules they’d set or time lines they’d established or plan she’d made. She didn’t think of any of those when they made sweet, hurried love while his cousin went to the post office or when they drew out the plea sure during the evening hours Fern spent at the movies.

Though Nikki was admittedly out of her element, she didn’t let herself consider how each moment in his arms bonded them in a way she’d never before experienced. She only thought of how each moment was so erotically sweet.

And it was just another thrilling one when he came up behind her in the kitchen as she sat on a stool, de-stringing snap peas to add to a cashew chicken salad. His hands cupped her shoulders and he bent down to kiss her jaw.

“Mmm,” he whispered against her skin. “I love vanilla.”

Her nipples tightened and she clenched her thighs together, holding the instant plea sure in. She had to hook her heels more securely on the rungs of the stool so she didn’t slide into a puddle of want at his feet.

It took her a moment to steady her voice. “That’s not what you said yesterday when I refused to climb a ladder onto the roof so we could, as I think you so elegantly put it, ‘do it on the shingles.’”

“I said I’d put a blanket over them. And I was in a state, cookie. The cleaning lady was running the vacuum, Fern was watching TV in the living room, and I was desperate to have you.”

Jay Buchanan desperate over a woman? Never gonna happen. But she let the statement lie. “Still,” she turned to frown at him over her shoulder. “You made fun of me for only wanting what you call ‘vanilla’ sex.”

He nipped her bottom lip. “It’s because of all your teasing talk about your strap-on. I’m sorry, though. I’ll let you tie me up and torture me later.”

She raised an eyebrow and pretended tepid interest instead of giving away the cinnamon-hot longing that stabbed through her at the idea of being alone with him and with enough privacy to do everything from vanilla to spicy in his bed. “Is Fern going out to night?”

“No. Actually, I am. I just took a call and now I have to meet a guy in Century City for drinks.”

“Oh.” She turned back to her snap peas. “I’m scheduled to clean my fishbowl to night, anyway.” It was the second thing that came into her head and she went with it, since claiming she needed the time to wash her hair sounded even more lame.

Jay spun her around to face him. His smile was full of boyish charm and the certitude of a man who always got his way. “Don’t go home, cookie.” His voice was soft and sounded like sinful persuasion. “Stay here until I get back.”

As sweet as these moments were, she didn’t want him thinking she depended upon them. And as exciting as it was to be with him, she told herself she missed the familiarity of her silent condo and the security of her solitude. “We’ve been tucked in each other’s pockets for days, Jay. There’s nothing wrong with a night off.”

His thumb stroked across her cheek and a corner of his mouth hitched higher. “But I like your pocket, Nikki.” His voice lowered to a husky whisper. “It’s so pink and pretty and wet and once I work myself inside it grips me like a hot, greedy little fist.”

Oh, God. Her spine melted and she felt liquid heat rush to the very place that he was talking about. That’s what she got for getting involved with a man who used words for a living. He was so good at using them on her. She licked her lips, trying to stay strong. “Now, Jay…”

He wiped the moisture off her lower lip with that maddening thumb, as the gleam in his eyes turned crafty. “Stay for Fern, then. I don’t like leaving her alone at night.”

Oh, he knew so well how to get to her. Since her breakup with Jenner, the girl had stuck closer to home yet stayed so quiet that it wasn’t easy not to worry about it. Even for Nikki, with her keep-your-distance DNA.

She sighed. “Well, I’ve been meaning to work on the menu for the anniversary party.”

“Fern could help you with that. She should. It’s for her folks, too.”

When Nikki had agreed to take this position, the big event at the end of the month to celebrate the anniversary of the double wedding of Jay’s parents and that of his aunt and uncle had seemed like a perfect opportunity to make useful contacts. She’d known she’d need them to make a go of this new solo career. But she hadn’t been thinking, lately, of any of that.

Maybe because her knee was so much better, despite last week’s tweak in the sand. She was even beginning to believe she could safely tap into her emergency surgery fund if she found herself between positions.

But for now there was this position, and this golden man with his sexy body and coercive hands, who was so near-impossible to refuse. “Please, cookie.” He tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “Later I’ll show you how grateful I can be.”

Her body throbbed at the low, seductive promise in his voice. “All right. I’ll be here when you get back,” she said, throwing familiarity and security to the wind. Though this ongoing involvement with Jay had taken her outside her comfort zone, she was managing.

“You’ll be able to reach me on my cell,” he said. “Anytime.”

Nikki frowned at him, disliking such assurances. “Oh, get over yourself. Anything that comes up, I can handle on my lonesome.”

Except that the house seemed too quiet without Jay, she admitted as the dusk settled over the beach outside. Refusing to clock-watch, Nikki sat on the living room couch and doodled on a note pad while Fern flipped through a magazine.

The girl’s cell phone rang. She pulled it from the front pocket of her hoodie, checked the readout, then thumbed the side button that cut off the ring. Two minutes later, the phone sounded again. Two seconds after that, Fern turned off her phone altogether and shoved it under a cushion.

Nikki stared. Severing the ties of teenage communication was a drastic mea sure, if her brief experience in Fern’s proximity was anything to go by. The tight expression on the girl’s face told the same story.

But Nikki wasn’t getting involved. Fern wasn’t her relative, and anyway, when it came to forging bonds of feminine sisterhood, Nikki was out of her element there, too. Fern could keep her confidences.

Leaning forward, she dropped her note pad on the coffee table and picked up her knitting. Her no-set-purpose piece was growing longer, and though she still had no idea why she continued with it, the repetitive action soothed her.

From the corner of her eye, she saw Fern retrieve her phone and power it on again. In seconds it rang, and in seconds Fern had reperformed the whole shut-it-down-and-shove-it-away routine.

Nikki opened her mouth, shut her mouth, opened it again. A white flag waved in her mind. Fine, she’d pry a little. “Someone’s sure intent upon reaching you.”

Fern stared at the glossy pages on her lap. Then she blew out a sigh. “It’s—”

The glass on the back door rattled, startling them both. Nikki’s head whipped toward the sound, and her heartbeat spiked. A figure in dark pants and a dark sweatshirt stood on the back deck, faceless in the dusk.

Instinctive fear rose from that burial plot in the back of her mind, but she stood up to it, putting her hand out to Fern as she got to her feet. “Stay right there.”

But the teenager was already moving, her magazine sliding off her knees and to the floor as she rose. “It’s Jenner. That’s who’s been calling my cell.”

Identifying the threat didn’t calm Nikki’s jangling nerves. “You don’t have to talk to him,” she said quickly. “You didn’t answer his phone calls.”

“I was being stupid. I’m not going to let him believe I’m running away from him.”

Never let them think you’re weak
, Nikki’s inner voice agreed. But as Fern brushed past her she had to fold her fingers into fists instead of reacting to the strong urge to latch on to the girl’s hood and hold her back. Though she’d told Jay she could handle what ever came up to night, this was none of her business. This was not her concern.

Still, she followed Fern to the doorway and stood there as the girl eased open the glass.

“I need to talk to you,” the boy said, his voice harsh. He held up his cell phone. “You’re not picking up.”

Nikki’s stomach shrank in on itself, shying away from Jenner’s angry tone.

“I’m answering now,” Fern said, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “What do you want?”

The boy’s gaze flicked toward Nikki. “To be alone. Let’s go up to your room.”

Fern seemed to sway back, but then she held steady. “Outside.”

His tone turned cajoling. “
Fern
,” he said, his hand reaching across the threshold to slide around her neck.

She ducked away from his touch and pushed past him onto the deck. From there she took the steps leading to the beach. Nikki hurried toward the open slider, but Jenner slammed it in her face and strode after Fern.

The barrier of glass reminded Nikki of her place—on the outside of what ever was going on with Fern and Jenner. But she didn’t move away from her front-row seat. As the dusk darkened, her gaze stayed glued to their forms.

It was like a silent motion picture, and she didn’t need text breaks to read the story. His entreaty. Her refusal. His more passionate plea and her more emphatic shake of her head. He opened his mouth again, but she turned toward the house and took a step.

His hand closed around the girl’s upper arm.

Nikki’s fingers shot to the door handle.

Fern shook away the touch, then trudged through the sand.

Halfway back to the house, he caught up with her, grabbing her elbow. Then he spun her around and shook her. Hard.

One moment Nikki was inside Jay’s, still feeling unsure and out of her element. The next she was barefoot on the sand, racing toward the couple.

“Let her go!” She startled a seagull that had been roosting on the beach, and it rose up with a raucous cry, wings flapping. She came to a stop near the teenagers. “I said, let her go.”

Jenner jerked his gaze toward Nikki. “Get lost.”

Fern yanked on her arm. “Jenner, leave me alone.”

He shook her again, his expression fierce. “Not until you listen. Not until I have my say. You owe it to me.”

You can’t leave now.

You can’t leave me like this.

Give it to me, baby.

You owe it to me, baby.

Nikki’s skin iced over as those old words echoed in her mind. A sick dread shot through her blood and she thought her muscles might be frozen, too, but they were working, moving, taking her through the thick sand. She grabbed Jenner’s hard forearm. “Let go of Fern.”

His gaze didn’t leave the girl’s face as his free hand lifted. With the flat of his palm, he gave Nikki’s shoulder a brutal shove. She stumbled back, then fell on her butt, her knee twisting as she hit the sand.

The hard fall disturbed the past she tried so hard to keep buried. It crawled into the open again, dirt clinging to its ugly form. She looked up at the boy and he morphed into a different one. Nikki was young again, and the looming figure was older, stronger, selfish. His needs first, her needs less.

Nikki less.

She felt again the nauseating pain in her knee that had robbed her breath and then recalled those hands, their touch no longer coaxing and familiar but drunken and mean. Her clothes shoved aside, his fly opened. Him pushing inside of her, while she lay paralyzed by shock and hurt, the booze she’d swallowed earlier not enough to dull her awareness of what was happening. When she’d opened her mouth, he’d clapped his hard palm over it.

Sick with shame, sick with fright, sick with the revelation that her neediness for love had opened her to this risk, she’d swallowed her screams.

But not now, she thought, dragging herself back to the present. It was different now. She was different. Now she wasn’t paralyzed. Now she wasn’t voiceless. She couldn’t be, not with Fern in danger.

Funny and sad, she realized in a flash, that this,
this
was her element.

Nikki sprang to her feet like she should have done twelve years before instead of staying low and small as she had then. She’d felt so afraid and alone, but now she wasn’t either of those. “No!” she yelled, louder than the high-pitched whine of anxiety in her ears. “
No!
”

She leaped to reach the couple in one bound. “Stop!” With both hands, she grasped the boy’s arm, and with all her strength wrenched, pushing down on his elbow while pulling up on his wrist to break his grasp.

It worked. Fern stumbled back as she was freed and Jenner rounded on Nikki. “Bitch,” he spit out.

Fern ran backward toward the house, her movements clumsy but quick.

Nikki wasn’t running anywhere. “That’s right,” she told the boy, adrenaline pumping into her system until she felt seven feet tall and Superwoman invincible. “I’m the biggest bitch from your baddest bad dream. And it’s only getting worse. I’m going inside and I’m going to call the police and then I’m going to call your parents. And if I ever see you around this house, if I ever see you around Fern, if I ever hear that you’ve touched her, well, I’m a chef, which means I’m trained with knives and perfectly willing to try an adaptation to my recipe for buffalo balls in béarnaise sauce.”

The stupid jerk sneered, but he was moving off. “You’re crazy, you know that? Crazy.”

Nikki caught sight of Fern, halted on her path back to the house. Suddenly getting to her was much more important than preventing Jenner from getting the last word. Ignoring the shrieks from her knee as well as the curses from the retreating boy, she hurried to the girl and grabbed her hand to hustle her inside.