IntheMood (3 page)

He wasted little time sheathing his needy cock. She had a
moment of regret when she wished she’d had more time to touch him, but he was
over her and on her. Missionary had never seemed so exciting as she lifted her
legs, wrapped them around his waist and drew him in. He took his cock in hand
and guided it to her, then he was there.

They gasped their relief. He surrounded her, his body over
and on her, but he kept the bulk of his weight away. He didn’t stop until he’d
driven slowly and steadily inside her. Their pubic hair must be meshing now,
dark and blonde, the sweet-sour scent of lovemaking, overlaid with heavy musk,
already tingeing the air with its persuasive perfume.

He thrust, his first movements frantically hard and fast,
his body impacting with hers, the slap of flesh against flesh gaining in
rhythmic intensity. Pressure rose inside her, tension setting all her nerves
tingling, a crescendo just out of reach.

Then he changed his tempo, short, shallow strokes and long,
deep, thrusts, none of them predictable. Ten or so and she was done.

She tightened her heels against the small of his back, held
on to his shoulders and surrendered to a powerful, all-consuming orgasm. She’d
never come so fast before, or so hard, peaking before she realized her orgasm
was on her.

“Oh God, oh God,” was all she could manage. Not original,
but he responded with a muttered curse as he surrendered to the magic they’d
created between them.

His cock jerked inside her as if it had a mind of its own,
driving her to another quiver, a coda of pleasure. Without the condom, he’d
have drenched them both.

He cried out, “Violet!” particularly gratifying since she
wasn’t at all sure he remembered who she was, and rolled over, taking her with
him, so she ended up on top. His cock slid out of her, her body closing behind
it, swollen tissues already mourning his loss.

They kissed, gently at first and then harder. He cupped the
back of her head, holding her in place while they took their pleasure in each
other.

He made a small sound of satisfaction deep in his throat,
and released her. “Fucking A.”

“Yeah,” she agreed. “It was, wasn’t it?” Unable to make any
significant moves, she rested her cheek on his sweat-drenched chest. Somewhere
along the way they’d lost all but the bottom sheet. Even the pillows were gone.

They lay in silence for several minutes until he tightened
his arms around her. “Let’s shower.”

She was glad one of them had the energy to move. He sat up
and took her with him, sitting on the edge of the bed until she regained her
senses and found her footing. She followed him into a large bathroom that had a
walk-in shower at one end, thankful for a tiled wall to lean against. He paused
for a moment before he joined her and she realized he must be getting rid of
the spent condom when she heard the toilet flush.

Then he came to her and wrapped one arm about her waist
while the other took care of handling the complicated-looking apparatus that
eventually sent warm water cascading down on them. A rainwater head. Perfect.

He washed her, pausing to drop kisses on her forehead, her
lips and eventually her breasts while lime-scented shower gel washed her clean,
left her fresh and new.

Then she washed him. She made him turn around so she could
admire his gorgeous rounded butt, perfect for gripping as she’d recently
discovered, and the curve of waist above, where the knobs of his spine led up
to powerful muscles and strong shoulders.

He laughed when she tickled between his cheeks, teasing him
and then retreating. His reaction intrigued her. He didn’t seem in the least
threatened, as some men had when she’d tried that. She mostly did it to
discover their reaction. She slid her fingers lower, to the sac holding his
balls. This time he groaned when she dragged her nails along the soft, wrinkled
pouches.

And turned around to grin down at her and hold her steady.
“You are good, lady. I thought we’d work well together, but you’re better than
I imagined.”

His growled compliment gave her more satisfaction than she
could have imagined. “It’s not how I imagined ending the evening.”

“Have I spoiled your plans?”

“Kind of.” She smiled up at him, unable to keep the
happiness from bubbling over. “I was planning to go home and collapse into
bed.”

He raised a brow. “And I changed that how?”

“Alone.”

“Ah.” He reached for her but didn’t hold her close. Instead,
he looked her up and down, scanning her breasts, her almost flat stomach, her
curved hips and that patch of golden curls. “You’re perfect. I’m real glad I
wrecked your plans.”

“So am I,” she whispered and went up on her toes to kiss
him. She sank back on her heels when she’d taken what she wanted, and pressed
her body close to his. “You taste good.”

“I drink a lot of coffee.”

“Makes for bad morning breath.”

His mouth relaxed into a smile. “I clean my teeth a lot too.
For you, I’ll give up the coffee if you want.”

“What a sacrifice.” She kissed his chest. “For that you
deserve a reward.” She knew exactly what she wanted to do. What he’d denied her
earlier by being so eager. She continued down his chest, fascinated when she
reached his stomach and his muscles tightened. He must have realized what she
planned to do. She cupped his balls, massaged them gently, then more firmly as
she felt his erection harden. She wanted him in her power, used, and well and
truly tasted.

His masculine musk rose to taunt her, fresh and inviting. He
smelled needy. She didn’t know if he consciously pushed his pelvis forward,
inviting her to take hold. Far be it for her to refuse an invitation like that.

The first swipe of her tongue gave her his taste and she
knew it was a flavor she’d never forget. Salty, with a touch of sweetness and
something like citrus, something she wanted more of. So much more.

When she took the head into her mouth, he groaned and
tunneled his hands into her hair, his fingers curling around her scalp, holding
her but not pressuring her.

She took her time tasting him. She guessed he’d bent to
watch her when the water stopped raining on her head, but it still hit her
lower back and bottom. Knowing he was watching her ramped up her own arousal,
and the space between her legs became damp from more than water. “Touch
yourself,” he whispered, barely louder than the rainfall. “Let me see how hot
this makes you.”

She sucked him deeper and opened her legs slowly, careful
not to let her knees slip on the tiles. But they were textured, so not much
chance of that. She could glide one hand down her body, slowly, aware he was
watching every moment. He shifted, and while she could still suck him, he must
have tilted his body to one side. To watch her while she gave him head and
touched herself.

Oh God, so fucking hot.

Heat bathed her fingers, her clit as hard as if it hadn’t
gone off less than half an hour before, her pussy open and wet. She thrust two
fingers inside as she sucked him harder, deeper, as deep as she could, then
withdrew to lick around the flange behind the head, then took the bead of his
essence at the tip for her own. From now on, she wanted every drop of what he
had to give. Everything.

Lapping up everything she could, she opened her mouth again,
only to find herself lifted to her feet. His hot mouth fastened on her own,
sharing his glorious flavors. He took barely a couple of seconds to tear open
another packet and sheathe himself, then he was in her again. V found herself
hoisted into the air so he could press her back against the tiles of the
shower.

She leaned back, trusting him to keep her safe while he
plundered her. His hair plastered against his skull, hers clinging to her body
in wet strands. It caught behind her, forcing her to tilt her head back. She
watched his face as he pushed into her body, his eyes savage now, dark with
need and desire, and she rejoiced that she could do this to him. He proceeded
to drive her to oblivion.

Hard, violent thrusts drove her up to orgasm level fast.
She’d always thought she was one of those women who came rarely and had to work
at it, but he gave her no mercy. He brought her up so fast she hardly had time
to register the fact before she was shuddering against him, her body his to
command.

He laughed, the sound dark and victorious, then with a few
more hard thrusts, he gave a small, strangled cry and came.

Carefully, he unpeeled her from the wall and held her around
her waist so she could lower her legs and find purchase on the floor of the
shower. He rid himself of the condom and washed her once more, then himself,
without uttering a word and without taking his gaze away from her. His tenderness
where he’d been as savage as a pirate before turned her on all over again, but
her body was far too tired to do anything about it.

He murmured soft words to her, called her “sweetheart” and
cared for her in a way that turned her to mush. Finally he turned off the water
and wrapped her in a warm, soft towel. He patted her dry, and only then grabbed
another towel and scrubbed it roughly over his body to dry himself.

“Are they real?” she murmured, relaxed beyond anything she
could remember.

“What?”

She came to with a start. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have said
that. I meant your eyes. Amazing color.”

“Yes, they’re real.” He sounded amused, thank goodness.

“I shouldn’t like this so much,” she said with a slight
laugh.

“Why not? It gives me pleasure to do this for you and I’m
betting you don’t get spoiled too often.”

“You’d be wrong,” she said, thinking of the way her family
cared for her. “But not like this.”

“I wouldn’t know,” he said, but didn’t explain what he meant
and for the first time since they’d entered his apartment she felt a
constraint.

Finally, while he was drying himself, she could look around.

The bathroom was as luxurious as she’d imagine for a place
like this, but anyone could live here. Or it could be a hotel bathroom. A
toothbrush and paste in a mug and a zipped up toilet bag were the only signs of
his presence.

“How long have you lived here?”

“A year.”

She found a towel to bundle her hair into and blot it partly
dry. She’d have to do it again tomorrow, when she had access to her conditioner
and straightener. Her hair had an annoying wave in it that she always tried to
blow out. Likely it would frizz around her head like a halo by the morning. She
hoped he liked fluffy hair.

She followed him back into the bedroom and stood there,
taking too long to dry her hair and body. What did he want now? He might want
to put her in a taxi. That had happened before, and sometimes she’d be glad of
it, to reach her own bed for the majority of the night. But tonight she wanted
to feel him touching her. Feel the security of his touch. Strange because she’d
never felt that before; she just wasn’t a needy person. But she wouldn’t beg.
She wouldn’t even ask.

She crossed the room and picked up her panties and her
dress, only to feel his heat warm her back. “You want to go? I can call you a
cab, come with you to make sure you get back to your parents’ house safe.”

Okay, so she would ask. “Do you want me to go?”

“Fuck, no. But if you want to, I won’t stop you.”

She draped the dress over the back of the chair. “I don’t
want to,” she whispered.

“Good.” He slid his arms around her. “Because I was
preparing to persuade you.” His shaky laugh ruffled her hair. “I try to be
civilized, but I’ve never had to try so hard before. Not in my worst days, the
days I can’t remember properly have I felt so—so needy. Come to bed,
sweetheart.”

So she did.

Chapter Three

He woke first, and she was still there. He’d worried that
she’d slip out and go home as soon as she could, as soon as this Jack guy
arrived at the café. She’d called him her partner, and last night he was so
desperate for her that he didn’t dare think that he was more to her. But he
could be. What if she’d used him to get back at this Jack guy? What if he’d let
himself be used?

He couldn’t bring himself to care. Bad, but he didn’t. While
she was in his arms, she belonged to him and he’d do his best to see she stayed
there, at least for the immediate future. But she was there, lying in his arms,
reminding him that the night before wasn’t some kind of wish-fulfillment dream.

He refrained from stroking a hand down her delectable form,
nestled so trustingly against him, because he might wake her. But when he
flipped the covers back, she only moved closer into him so he could admire her
all over again.

Silky skin, curves he couldn’t imagine better in a wet dream
and a lingering trusting innocence all combined to make her completely
irresistible. She’d taken him completely by surprise. Just as he was thinking
he’d gotten his life on track, she came and derailed him.

Remembering his promise to himself to take things as they
came, he decided to do just that right now. Careful not to make any sudden
movements, he swung his feet out of bed and headed for the shower.

V woke and stretched before she smelled the coffee. So used
to the scent she hardly noticed it these days, today there was a subtle
difference. Ah yes, she had it. The scent was closer.

Then she remembered where she was and opened her eyes. A
steaming mug sat by the bed. Grabbing the sheet to cover herself, she sat up
and combed her hair off her face with her fingers. She sucked in a deep breath
and closed her eyes, recalling her plans for the day.
Oh shit, yes.

When she opened her eyes, he was leaning against the
doorway, fully dressed in black again, smiling at her, a similar mug to the one
on the bedside table gripped in one hand. She groaned and covered her eyes.
“Don’t look.”

“Why not? You’re a sight for sore eyes. If I come any
closer, I won’t stop and we’ll both be late.”

Oh shit, she’d promised to go to his studio. “Today?”

“Are you working today? Because if you do, you’re hella
late.”

She let her hand drop into her lap. “Not today. My partner’s
doing most of this week.”

He straightened up. “Partner? This Jack you talked about?”

“Yeah. Remember, I mentioned him last night?”

“My dick was doing all the thinking last night.”

She loved his frankness. It made heat rise deep inside her.
If she had anything to do with it, this would be more than a one-night stand.
She had to let him further into her life, a little bit, at any rate.

“We split the work in the café. We’re joint owners.” She
reached for her coffee, careful to hold the sheet to her breasts.

He noticed, his gaze slipping to what the sheets covered.
“I’ve seen it all.” He sipped his own coffee. “Tasted it and touched it. If you
want, we can do it again. But probably not yet, or we won’t get anywhere today.
With you, honey, once is most definitely not enough.”

Their eyes met, and she knew the same truth. She wanted
more. Hastily, feeling too vulnerable, she looked away and took a sip of her
coffee, thinking about what to say that didn’t have a double meaning. In the
end, she gave up. “So what do you want to do today?” If he wanted to undress
and come back to bed, that was all right by her.

“I want to take you to the studio and play the track to you.
Some of the guys are due in today for a session, so you can meet them. Will
your sax be at the café?”

“Probably.” She forced herself not to shift as her arousal
rose with her awareness, to give him any clue that his remarks had turned her
on. Far too early to give him the upper hand. She smiled sweetly. “If Jack
wasn’t in when they went around, they’d have taken it to my parents’ home. It
would have been very late, but he’s an insomniac and he’ll stay late doing the
books if he’s having a bad night. I have to go change before I can do anything
else, anyhow.” And put up with the comments from the regular customers. Just as
well she had her coat because the slinky gold number was wrong in so many ways
for daywear in Chicago.

He continued to sip his drink, in no hurry, it seemed, to
walk away and give her some privacy. His eyes gleamed and she knew this was
some kind of test.

So she finished her coffee, flung back the sheets and walked
firmly across the room in the direction of the bathroom. She didn’t turn around
at his piercing wolf whistle, nor did she give any indication that she’d heard,
apart from giving him the finger before she closed the bathroom door. His shout
of delighted laughter warmed her more than it should, but he didn’t follow her
in. She didn’t know if she felt happy or relieved about that.

After showering and dressing, she ate the toast he made for
her, and they left the apartment. He paused before he helped her into her coat.
“Do you like this place?”

She gazed around at the small lobby and the great room
beyond. Light streamed into the area from the big windows on the river side.
Obviously a luxury apartment, but something was missing. The personal touch
she’d noticed was absent in the bathroom last night. “It’s nice. Did you buy it
furnished?”

His laugh was distinctly awkward. “Yes, I did. I didn’t have
time for décor. I keep planning to get someone in, though. Why, don’t you think
it’s me?” He gestured in a deliberately extravagant manner.

With its low-level leather sofas and glass coffee tables,
the neutral color scheme with a couple of flashes of brights, the apartment was
the epitome of a show home. Somewhere nobody really
lived
. But she
didn’t want to offend him.

The thought that she didn’t know him well enough to know if
her comment would upset him or not put the events of last night into
perspective. A one-night stand, something that didn’t have to mean much to
either of them, although she very much wanted it to. Sure, the sex had been
spectacular, but she didn’t know him, even though she felt easy with him, more
comfortable than she’d ever felt with Jack.

“Don’t you have any gold discs, stuff like that?”

“Trophies?” He folded her coat around her after she pushed
her arms through the sleeves. “I have them, sure. This is a two-bedroom
apartment. The second bedroom is full of boxes.” He met her gaze when she
turned around to face him, though she couldn’t read much in his guarded
expression. So different from the way he’d looked at her last night.

Musician, she reminded herself. She knew the lifestyle, the
way they moved on, especially in these days when public appearances provided so
much of their income. The band became the family and everything outside it
mattered less. She suspected that mindset lingered with him.

Maybe he was mentally closing a door on their encounter, or
at least putting distance between them, re-erecting barriers they never should
have breached on their first night. In which case she’d better accept it as
good common sense. “You didn’t unpack?”

He raised a brow. “Haven’t had time to unpack more than
clothes. One day.”

“You move around.”

“All my life.” He turned away, ostensibly to open the door.
She stared at his leather-clad back. All his life? He might like it that way,
uncomfortable with staying in one place for too long. Some people were like
that, natural gypsies. In that case, she didn’t give much chance of his studio
succeeding.

That wasn’t her problem, she reminded herself firmly.

He opened the door and waited for her to pass through.
Gripping her purse, she walked past him, head held high.

The walk to her café was more tense than their race to bed
the night before, but in a different way. Morning-after way. She tried to make
conversation, but he seemed on edge and answered in monosyllables barely the
right side of politeness.

It was after nine and the café was already doing brisk
business. Steam puffed from the milk frother and the scent of fresh coffee
filled the air. Home.

Behind the counter, Jack, a fresh cloth draped over one arm,
glanced up to see her enter. His gaze lingered over the man behind her and she
got a clue that this could be awkward. Why the fuck hadn’t she had a separate
entrance put in when they’d renovated? True, there was the fire escape, but she
didn’t trust the iron stairway and it smacked uncomfortably of sneaking around.
She was part owner of this place, not an errant child.

So she pasted an easy smile on her face. “Morning, Jack.”
She nodded to the barista and the new man they’d hired last week to make
sandwiches. He was working out pretty well, although maybe “man” was an
exaggeration. Chad was barely twenty, but he had a gift for a fresh sandwich.
She would have hurried past, but Jack commented, “Just coming in?”

“Yes. And going out again pretty soon. Did my uncle drop off
the sax?”

“Yes. Though I don’t know why you bother.”

She felt heat behind her. “Because she’s damned good, that’s
why,” came a dark rumble.

Jack tilted his head quizzically. “Yes, she is. But she
dabbles, that’s all. Don’t you, sweetheart?”

The possessive term annoyed her more than usual. In many
ways Jack treated her as if they were still an item. He hadn’t dated since
their breakup as far as she knew, but she’d be glad to see him move on. “I’m
still dabbling, Jack. Not that it’s any of your business.”

This time she did pass by, taking Matt with her.

Her apartment was so different from his. Smaller, for a
start, and crammed with memorabilia and personal items. Seeing it anew today,
she realized just how small it was. But she’d called it cozy before, and enjoyed
the ambience. She still did, she told herself.

He cleared his throat, stood by the sofa with his hands
stuck in his pockets. “So tell me about Jack. Should I be careful around him?”

Her eyes widened. “You think…?” Yeah. She’d called him her
partner and they hadn’t exactly gone into many details last night.

“I warn you, V, I don’t do backdoor man.”

“Good.” That wasn’t what she wanted, wasn’t something she
could live with. He deserved to know. “Jack and I were an item a few years
back, and he bought into the café then. When we split as a couple, we decided
to carry on the business. We didn’t have a rough separation, we just agreed we
were better friends than lovers. He’s a lawyer, but doesn’t get enough business
to keep him busy full-time. I wanted to have a bit of time for my music, and
the café pays enough for both of us to take a cut. We halve the work and it
works for us.”

He stared at her, his mouth compressed, then he nodded. “I
see. It sounds good.” He didn’t sound convinced, but that was his business.
He’d have to decide if he wanted to believe her or not, but she wouldn’t do
more than set out the situation for him.

“I’ll go change.” She circuited a table to get to her
bedroom door. “I shouldn’t keep you waiting too long. Make yourself at home.”

He was too big for this place, but he did his best,
spreading out on the single sofa. She bolted through to her bedroom.

She emerged ten minutes later to discover him studying the
pictures hung on the wall near the window. “You?” he asked, pointing to her graduation
photo.

“Have I changed that much?”

He smiled at her and she relaxed. She couldn’t help it, that
smile would charm the pants off anybody. She’d certainly not been immune.
“Some. Your hair is longer now, and you’ve lost the beaming innocence.”

She traced the edge of her cheek. “And I lost the spots.”

“Can’t say I can see them. Like most kids, I wonder if you
exaggerated them.” He grinned. “I bet people were too busy looking at the rest
of you to notice.”

She pulled a face. “Sexist.” Glancing at the photo again,
she saw a pretty girl, bright with happiness, and recalled that day. “I was
always too skinny too.”

“You’re gorgeous.” He reached for her, put his hands on her
waist. “You’re not overgenerous.”

She loved that description. “No, I’m not. Average. I’ve
always been average. The spotty stage didn’t last long enough for me to get a
complex about them, and in any case, my family wouldn’t have allowed it. The
complex, not the spots. Mom gave me some special soap and some lotion and they
cleared up after a year or two.”

He stared at the other pictures. “They’re not all your
family, are they?”

Laughing, she had to confess that they were. “My pop
invented a gadget about thirty years ago. Something for a car.”

His eyes widened. “The Hamid Regulator?”

“How did you know my name was Hamid?” As soon as she’d said
it, she laughed. “The café.” The sign was so much part of her life she hardly
remembered it was there anymore. They’d renamed the café Hamid’s, but most
people called it “The Neat Street Café”, after the alleyway by the side of the
place.

He nodded. “That’s it.” A sense of wonder permeated his
eyes. “It’s been years,” he murmured as if to himself. “I haven’t slept with
anybody— I’m sorry.”

She enjoyed his embarrassment. Better than that tension she
barely understood, so much more powerful than she’d felt with anyone else.
“Since you slept with someone without knowing their full name? I wouldn’t have
known yours if I hadn’t known who you were. I didn’t ask any more than you
did.”

She took a risk, turned and kissed him.

She meant it to be brief, but the flash of scalding heat
that passed between them shocked her into immobility. Long enough for him to
pull her closer and plunder.

It happened again. She lost all sense of time and place.
Fuck, this man was steaming hot, better than anyone else. Was it practice, or
did it come naturally? Right now she didn’t give a fuck. She just wanted more.