Naked Shorts

NAKED SHORTS

BY

TINA FOLSOM

* * * * *

Naked Shorts:

Steal Me, Captured to Breed, Golddigger, The Wrong Suitor

Copyright (c) 2010 by Tina Folsom

All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the copyright owner of this book.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

License Notes

This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author’s work.

* * * * *

STEAL ME

by

Tina Folsom

The auction was almost over, and Marcus Montcrieff had acquired what he”d come to

Christie”s for. He was satisfied for the first time in weeks. The priceless artifact of an armband said to have belonged to one of the Vestal Virgins of Rome would be delivered to his home under heavy security the next day. Priceless? Not quite. He”d paid a high price for the item, since he”d had to bid against another avid collector of Roman art.

The golden armband was said to hold certain powers. Marcus didn”t believe in legends or magic, but he was fascinated with everything Roman and even more so with anything connected to the story of the Vestal Virgins, the keepers of the fire of Vesta. No amount of money was too much to add to his growing collection.

“Good grief, Marcus, don”t buy the whole lot!” He turned to the familiar voice behind him.

Thomas Fairfax stretched out his hand and grabbed Marcus” in a fierce shake.

“Fancy seeing you here.” Marcus gave a surprised laugh. He hadn”t seen Thomas since his friend had left for Peru a couple of months earlier.

“When did you get back to London?” Marcus asked.

They shifted to the rear of the packed auction hall where their chatter wouldn”t disturb the remaining patrons still bidding on the last three items.

“Got into Heathrow last night. Can”t say I enjoyed the flight - first class was booked solid, so I had to slum it in business class. Dreadful,” Thomas complained.

Marcus smirked and let his gaze drift past his friend.

Spoiled upper class twit
.

Before he could pull his attention back to Thomas, something caught his awareness.

Or rather, someone.

A woman.

She stood off to the side, bent down. Her hands smoothed over her pantyhose. She twisted its black seam back into place so it centered at the back of her calf. Inch by inch she adjusted the garment until she reached the seam of her black skirt.

Her hands looked strong, yet elegant. Her face was shielded by long hair the color of the ravens guarding the Tower of London.

Marcus felt his eyes burn as he watched her. He wondered what her shapely legs would feel like wrapped around his hips, and he felt his balls tighten when he saw her continue her movement. As he watched her hitching up her skirt by a couple of inches to correct the seam of her pantyhose, his brain begged for a correction: she didn”t wear pantyhose. She wore stockings.

Silk stockings with lace tops, held up by a black garter belt.

Bloody hell!

His breath came out in a hitched huff at the same time as heated blood surged to his cock.

Suddenly his trousers felt too snug.

“Anything wrong?” Thomas asked and turned his head to follow his friend”s gawk.

As if she noticed the men staring at her, the woman pulled upright and turned her head toward them, finally revealing her face. Exquisite, just as Marcus had thought.

If he”d imagined she would be embarrassed about being caught in her intimate action, he was proven wrong.

Instead of looking away, her eyes held his gaze, ignoring Thomas as if he didn”t even exist.

Her eyes were as dark as chocolate. Did her skin feel as smooth as it looked from the distance?

Would her red lips taste as sweet as strawberry marmalade?

Her sensual mouth opened but a sliver, enough of a temptation for any man with a pulse and even more so for one with a bulging erection. In slow motion she smoothed her skirt over her hips then broke eye contact.

When Marcus felt Thomas move beside him, he stopped his friend with a hand on his arm.

“Don”t even think about introducing yourself,” Marcus murmured under his breath, before giving Thomas a scolding look.

“Nothing wrong with a little competition,” Thomas countered and grinned unashamedly.

“Don”t you have some unpacking to do?” Suddenly the arrival of his old friend was not quite as welcome an event as he”d thought only minutes earlier. Frankly, maybe it would be better if Thomas jumped onto the next plane to God-knows-where, coach class for all Marcus cared.

Thomas smirked. “That can wait.”

“Keep your paws to yourself. She”s mine,” Marcus claimed and turned back to the mystery woman.

But she was gone.

Damn!

Leaving Thomas without another word, Marcus stalked out of the hall and into the almost deserted corridors of the auction house. His steps were absorbed by the luxurious rugs underneath his feet as he hurried along trying to find her.

It had been a considerable while since he”d met a woman who truly excited him. And this woman excited him. Whether it was her soulful eyes, her graceful figure, or her seductive movements, he didn”t know. Most certainly it was many things. But what had definitely set him off to go after her was the lure of her lips, the way they had parted when she”d looked at him, directly, without embarrassment, provoking him.

He felt his cock twitch at the thought of what those lips could do to him. He quickened his step and reached the door to the exit seconds later. As he peered outside into the night, there was nothing. Light traffic, several limousines waiting, a few pedestrians, but no sight of her.

A limo driver was leaning against the hood of his car and straightened up when he saw Marcus approach.

“Have you seen a woman exit from here in the last couple of minutes? Dark hair, petite, black skirt.”

The man shook his head. “Nobody”s come out in a while.”

Marcus turned and went back inside, muttering a curse under his breath.

“Looking for somebody?” a female voice addressed him softly.

He jerked to his left and saw her standing in an alcove near the main foyer. Her face was in the shadows, but he recognized her legs and her skirt. Had she been waiting for him?

It wouldn”t take long to find out. He took the few steps to bridge the distance between them, stopping only inches from her. Too close for a stranger, but she didn”t back away. She couldn”t; the wall was at her back.

His head bent toward her. “I”ve just found what I was looking for,” he breathed into her ear.

“What now?” she asked and sought his eyes.

Bold. He liked that in a woman.

Her lips beckoned to be kissed, smothered, crushed.

“A kiss.”

To his surprise she shook her head. Why else would she have given her location away? She”d seen his hungry look in the auction hall, he was certain.

“Tomorrow night,” she promised, her voice a silky trickle which rendered him breathless.

His heart skipped a beat. She wasn”t turning him down completely. He could wait twenty-four hours, couldn”t he? His throbbing cock indicated a clear
no
, but his brain overrode his baser needs.

“Tomorrow night?”

She nodded and traced her index finger over his lower lip. The touch startled him and aroused him at the same time. Keeping his eyes on hers, his tongue snaked out and lapped against her finger. Her eyelids dropped to half-mast as she held her breath. Encouraged by her reaction he pulled her finger into his mouth and sucked on it.

Her skin was delicious, tasting of citrus fruit and vanilla blossoms. He saw her chest rise as she took in a breath and filled her lungs.

His hand reached forward and touched her silky blouse, stroking lightly over her breast. The absence of a bra startled him, and a moan escaped him. Another second of this and he”d come right in his trousers.

She withdrew her finger from his mouth. “Eight o”clock at Claridge”s. You can buy me dinner first and afterwards …” She left the sentence hanging, sending a tingle of anticipation through his groin.

He knew the restaurant in Mayfair. In fact, he was a regular.

“I can pick you up.”

She shook her head. “I”ll meet you there.”

“I”m Marcus M-” he wanted to introduce himself, but she interrupted him.

“I know who you are.”

It didn”t surprise him. His face was known all over London and beyond.

She stepped past him, her braless breast brushing against his arm, sending another lightning bolt through his body, as she walked toward the exit.

“Wait! Your name.”

She turned briefly. “Olivia.” And then she was gone. Her scent and her touch lingered.

Olivia Hall pulled on her black boots, tucking the ends of her tight black trousers into them.

She felt much more comfortable wearing those than the skirt she had donned the night before.

She hated skirts. They constricted her movements and were impractical in case she had to get away quickly. Neither did she like the stilettos she”d worn at the auction house.

But she knew men were suckers for high heels. Especially when they were on the end of legs clad in black stockings. So predictable. Really.

Funny, how men turned out to always react the same way. Almost boring. She hadn”t met a mark yet who hadn”t come after her when she”d adjusted her stockings. Maybe she should come up with a new hook next time otherwise things might get boring. On the other hand, why introduce something new into the mix if the old trick still worked, and worked every time?

This man wasn”t any different. Marcus Montcrieff, the wealthy art collector and

entrepreneur. Olivia had watched him during the entire auction. She”d done her research on him.

If she was anything, she was thorough. Before the bidding even started, she knew what he would bid on. That was why she was there.

At some point Olivia thought the older gentleman who”d bid against him would win the prize, but Marcus hadn”t disappointed her. He”d outbid the man every time and it was clear he wouldn”t give up until the Vestal armband was his.

She liked that. A man who knew what he wanted. She understood it when she”d done her research on him. And he”d done exactly as predicted: Marcus had bought the artifact. As soon as the bidding on the item was over, she”d started with her trick.

When he”d walked toward the back of the room with his friend, it had only been a matter of a few minutes until he”d noticed her. She”d virtually felt his hungry eyes all over her body when she”d adjusted the stockings which really didn”t need adjusting.

The moment his eyes had met hers, she”d felt an unknown sensation in her, but had attributed it to anticipation. His dark hair was a little shaggy, with waves suggesting it naturally curled under the hot steam of a shower. Eyes the color of moss suggested hidden depth. Even in his elegant suit he couldn”t hide his athletic figure, his broad shoulders, and his muscular chest.

Yet, there was something rough about him. He was a self-made man, not like his blue-blooded friend. Without a doubt, Marcus was attractive. More than that. He oozed sex appeal.

She hadn”t seen a man in quite a while who looked this potent. Almost as if he was forbidden fruit.

Not that Olivia was going to sample any of it. She never did when it came to business. It was too risky. The only thing she”d allowed herself was to touch his lips. The sensation had almost overwhelmed her, especially when he”d sucked her finger into his mouth. His tongue had played with her in the most seductive way.

Coupled with his hand brushing lightly against her breast it had made her virtually forget her modus operandi. Never mix business with pleasure. At that point she”d almost regretted that he was the one who”d bought the artifact. Had he not, maybe she would have spent a night with him and satisfied the hunger in his eyes. A mirror image of her own for sure.

But as it happened, he had bought the artifact, the same she”d been hired to steal. And she would do it tonight while he was waiting for her at the restaurant for a date she would never have with him.

A kiss she would never give him.

His London residence was a two story home on a quiet Mayfair street. By the time she reached it, darkness had already descended on the city, and foot traffic was at a minimum in the residential area in the center of London.