IllicitImpulse (8 page)

He offered her his best relax-I’m-a-professional smile. “I
guess it doesn’t do any good to tell you to pretend I’m not here.”

She chuckled. “Not really. Don’t worry. Once I take the
pill, I think everything will be fine.”

Tal’s heavy tread on the stairs interrupted them and she
glanced back over her shoulder until he reappeared with one hand wrapped around
the neck of a desk lamp. He carried it over to John. “This one’s for you. I’m
going to turn the one on the nightstand on too. Then, when we turn all the
other lights off, you should be able to see what you’re doing and what we’re
doing.”

The glare from the lamp on the nightstand would make it hard
for either of them to see him from the bed. An added bonus. Maybe even a
thoughtful gesture, in consideration of Grace’s feelings.

John positioned the desk lamp on the table and stretched the
cord over to the kitchen counter, where he plugged it into the same outlet as
the blender. Grace had taken a seat at the table while Tal busied himself with
turning out the other lights. “Looks like we’re about ready,” John said. “Go
ahead and grab one of the pills.”

Grace headed for the sectional, where she must have dropped
her purse. John switched on the lamp and arranged his notepad and three pencils
in the compact circle of light that appeared on the table. By the time Tal had
finished shutting everything else down, his notes looked like the central
feature of a very minimalist theatrical production. The light struck the
droplets of water sliding down the sides of his untouched water glass, and John
had started to wonder if Tal were the sort who kept coasters around when Grace
returned with the pills.

“Now?” she asked.

“Now.” John slid the glass toward her and watched as she
pushed a single pill through the foil backing. Tal waited just outside the tiny
halo of light, watching them from the shadows as Grace swallowed the pill. John
suppressed the momentary surge of glee at being closer to her than Tal was at
this critical time.

“Okay,” she said. “Now what’s the big secret?”

“You don’t feel anything yet. Right?”

She nodded. “Right.”

He reached for her, willing his hand not to shake as he took
hers, as he slid his fingertips over the silken skin at the underside of her
wrist, the sculpted curve of her half-closed palm, the warm and sensitive pads
of her fingers. Silence as palpable as the darkness wrapped itself around
them—until her breath caught in her throat.

“Mmm.” Her fingers linked with his, and his insides floated
weightless at the sound of her voice. “It’s working. How’d you do that?”

He stroked the base of her thumb with his own. “Touching
releases oxytocin,” he said. “That first touch is the trigger that starts the
Impulse reaction. The night I gave you the pills, we hugged, the way we usually
do. I wasn’t there to do that last time.”

Grace tugged at his fingers, pulling him toward her, and she
pressed soft lips to his cheek. Her whisper caressed his ear, making all the
hair at the base of his neck slowly rise.

“It’s all right,” she breathed. “You’re here now.”

He turned toward her without thinking, the way living things
turned toward the sun, and when he closed his eyes against the maelstrom of
sensations she created, his forehead rested against hers. The warm, clean scent
of her, like wildflowers after spring rain, curled up toward him.

Her nose touched his. He knew it meant she was about to kiss
him, this contact hard-wired into her to help her find his mouth with her eyes
closed, but before he could reliably process all of it, her lips were on his.
Reason stopped in its tracks.

He wanted to stay here, in this instant, forever, her
petal-soft mouth pressed to his as gently as a dream. But unbelievably her
tongue grazed the center of his lower lip.

Like fire. Just a taste of fire, but the promise of more.
Maybe more than either of them could handle.

From a very distant corner of his mind, he remembered what
she’d said. Impulse made her hot. Crazy.

Crazy enough to kiss her best friend on the mouth, even with
their history.

And just as quickly as this promise had flared up between
them, she was moving away. He opened his eyes again to see whether she was
teasing him, daring him to follow her, and found her backing away toward Tal,
whose sun-bronzed hand slid over her shoulder. She pulled in a long, deep
breath.

“We ready over here?” Tal’s Southern-gentleman drawl had thickened
into something heavy and dangerous, and John knew their alternating rounds of
male posturing and half-civil awkwardness had reached an end.

“All ready,” she said. But as she receded into the dark with
Tal, her gaze never left John’s.

Tal’s fingertips slid down her back to where the belt of the
robe cinched the flimsy fabric. His familiar presence behind her, solid and
strong and so warm, ignited her, starting the spiraling climb to sensual
madness. The familiar was all she’d counted on. The familiar would have been
enough.

But now there was more.

She’d touched John before—hundreds of times. Maybe even
thousands of times. She’d never touched him on Impulse though, never with her
senses amplified like this. Never with her need rising to a razor-sharp peak
like this.

John’s skin against hers was cool, like it always was. Tal
ran so hot. Only Tal’s mercurial self-control prevented her from being engulfed
by the blaze inside him. John was nothing if not disciplined. He wouldn’t even
blush unless he knew it was all right to let his guard down. He’d be slow and
sure and above all attentive. He’d watch for her pleasure and he’d know—he’d
just know—how to drive her higher.

God. What would have happened if Tal hadn’t been here?

Tal was here now though, and the warm pressure of his touch,
a firm squeeze of his fingers around hers, focused her growing sensual energy
squarely on him. Darkness stretched out behind them, separating the two of them
from their observer. Before Tal stepped between them, using his body to block
Grace’s view of him, she saw John carefully folding a paper towel into a
makeshift coaster for his glass. He had everything arranged just so. The legal
pad exactly where it needed to be, both out of the way and close at hand.
Backup pencils where he could get them quickly and easily. Just as usual, as if
nothing had happened. Again. Leaden fingers closed around her heart.

Tal took her fingers in his and bent to whisper to her. “You
all right? Say the word and I’ll call it off.”

She freed her hand from his and splayed her fingers on his
chest. No way she was stopping this now.

It was all the encouragement he needed. He pulled her to
him, that great hand engulfing the small of her back, and with his own body
still between her and John, he reached toward the nightstand.

The light made his bed a stage. Everything past the
nightstand was hidden by the glare. But she knew he was out there, watching
them. Taking notes on what she wanted and how Tal gave it to her.

She sat on the bed and swung her legs up so that she could
lie back, making herself comfortable on Tal’s pillows, scented faintly with his
sensible soap, his utilitarian shampoo. Standing over her, Tal pulled his shirt
off in a smooth, graceful motion that made her catch her breath. If she saw him
do it a million times, it still wouldn’t be enough to satisfy her. She wanted
to reach under her robe herself, overcome by the hunger for his strong fingers.
She wanted to tug at the nipple coming to a stiff peak beneath the robe’s
featherlight fabric. She longed to test the wet heat between her thighs. But it
was his duty to quench the ever-deepening thirst for him.

The bed dipped beneath his weight, protesting with a soft
creak, and then he was on her, his mouth on hers without preamble and without
quarter. His kiss never asked permission. He sought an equal, a partner to rise
to his challenge and to sink with him into sin.

Her hands roamed over his skin as if she could draw strength
from him. She let her fingers stray into his hair, tugging at it because she
knew what it did to him. His weight crushed her, pinning her to the mattress,
and her core pulsed with every beat of her heart. She could take him into
herself right now, savor the rough sound of his breath as he fed her deepest,
strongest desires. All she’d have to do was to caress that weighty bulge
beneath the whispery nylon of his pants. He’d tear them away and be in her in
seconds, driving hard and deep and long because that was what he was.

But they weren’t alone anymore.

And John was what he was too.

He’d want to see every detail, every nuance of the
electricity between them. He’d never be satisfied with a quickie, and so she
couldn’t be satisfied with one either.

Tal propped himself on his elbows and pulled her robe open.
With one hand, he worked her breast, his fingers digging into her flesh, his
rough palm rubbing hot circles on her nipple.

Yes.
Did she say it aloud? Would it be enough to pull
his head down to her? She didn’t know. Then his mouth closed on her other
breast, and thought deserted her completely. There was only the sound of her
cry, the wet suction of his mouth on her, the ragged grunt of approval or need
or whatever came from him.

Her body bucked against him, but he knew better than to give
in to her. Just as she’d known he could be buried inside her, he knew he had to
wait, to make this last.

She wanted more. Now. And when her wordless cry didn’t do
the job, she dug her nails into the flesh of his back. He broke off his feast
and met her gaze, his face pink in the lamplight. He licked his lips wickedly
and pushed his hips against hers, grinding his hard-on into her.

Sensation battered her and she arched her back.
Yes.
She drew breath to meet the tide of pleasure, and the fragrance of her need
excited her even more. Somewhere out there, in the dark, she knew John watched
her, saw what she became when she was with this man. Was he still the impartial
scientist, observing her as she mated with another man?

Or had his usual curiosity devolved into something more
primitive—something that would draw him like a flame but could burn him just as
easily?

She parted her thighs for her lover and dug her nails into
his broad back.
Let him burn. Let’s all burn together.

Tal looked down at her, his eyes gone black with lust, and
he humped her slower, harder. He chuckled, a dark sound to remind her of their
mission. She grabbed at his firm ass instead, her nails rasping against those
breakaway pants. Frustration made her groan and he dipped his head to suckle at
her throat.

He took her earlobe between his teeth. “Tell me.” His wicked
invitation made her body answer with one strong convulsion, but she wouldn’t
give in to his demand. Not quite yet.

He went back to his work, his hips driving against her as
his mouth caressed her other breast. She twisted beneath him until her legs
freed themselves of the robe to trap him. She arched and gave way in time with
the movement of his big body.

She heard herself as if from far away, making a wild, pure,
female sound that had always meant yes. More. Now. And she took fistfuls of his
pants and pulled him against her, riding him as if he were already filling her.

Ever the showman, he went still atop her for a moment before
rising. On his knees, but still towering over her, he braced himself on the
headboard, panting, and pulled at those damnable pants with his free hand. The
snaps that held them together, along the side seams, popped free one by one.
The fabric parted and dropped to his knees as his hips swayed toward her and
back, toward her and back.

Tal pumped his cock slowly into his hand and looked down at
her like a pagan god ready to claim a sacrifice. God, he was big. Even in his
own hand, he seemed big.

“Get it.”

Grace rolled toward the nightstand at his command, squinting
into the light until she found the string of condoms. She tore one off the
string and opened it with her teeth before offering the rubber to him between
two fingers. He plucked it from her grasp and closed his hooded eyes as he put
it on, as if his own touch primed him for her. Then he was sheathed and the
worshipful pause came to an end.

In the shadowy world beyond Tal’s bed, John was watching
them. He was watching Tal now as he prepared to take her. He was watching her
now, opening for Tal. And when the thought intruded, briefly, as Tal descended
toward her, Grace knew John was watching with more than his usual analytical
curiosity.

He watched with desire, a want she could feel beyond the
lamp’s glare just as plainly as she felt the heat of Tal’s body on hers.

Was it his attention that made her reach for her lover’s
shoulders? Or did Impulse fuel this sudden change in plan, making her shift her
weight beneath Tal, pushing at him until he rolled onto his back beneath her?

It didn’t matter now. Nothing mattered now except this
feeling, the knowledge that both these men watched her, waited for her to
decide what shape her pleasure would take.

Tal caressed her thigh, her hips, feeding the flame that
drove her. She rocked slowly against him and reveled in the feel of his hard
body between her legs. His golden lashes stood out in the stark lamplight as
his eyes drifted closed. His hands roamed over her, taking in the soft plane of
her stomach. When he took her breasts in his hands, she arched into his touch
and sighed her approval.

Need unfurled within her, more urgently than before, and she
reached for his cock. His body moved in a slow, contented wave beneath her.

“Mmm. Grace, I’m going to come in your hand.”

She chuckled and looked down at him. “Sorry. You just feel
so good.”

He opened one eye and she watched the pupil shrink in the
light. “I’ll feel better inside you. I promise.”