NiceGirlsDo (5 page)

His hand stilled between her legs. “Oh? Where's it being held?”

She mentioned the location.

He stiffened.

She frowned. “What's wrong?”

“Nothing.” He pressed a kiss against her ear. “I'd better let you sleep.” He rolled away from her and rose.

Her desire to sleep vanished. She sat up, pulling a sheet up to cover her breasts as he turned on the lamp on his side of the bed. “Where are you going?”

“I'd better go straighten out the room mix up.”

She glanced at the clock on the nightstand. 1:15 a.m. “It's so late. Why don't you wait until tomorrow?”

“It is tomorrow.” He smiled and headed towards the bathroom.

She hesitated several moments before kicking the cover aside. She got out of bed and followed him into the bathroom.

Standing in his briefs, he turned to face her. His gaze swept quickly over her nude body before he looked in her eyes. “Do you need to use the bathroom?”

She shook her head and closed the distance between them. She linked her arms around his neck, pressing her breasts against his chest. “Can't you wait until tomorrow? I'd like to fall asleep with your body pressed against mine.”

He stared down at her. “My name is Clay.”

“Clay?”

“Yes. Clay.” He caressed her cheek. “What's your name, sweetheart?”

She couldn’t decide if there was a hint of a southern drawl or a hint British accent in his speech. Either way, she decided she liked the way he sounded calling her sweetheart. She smiled. “My name’s Darbi.”

“And you're here for the L.A. Job Fair?”

“Yes. Have you heard about it?”

He sighed. “Yes.”

She tilted her head and studied his face, noting the weary look in his beautiful green eyes. “What's the matter? Is your ex named Darbi?”

He shook his head. “I don't have an ex. At least I don’t have an ex-wife, if that’s what you mean.”

“It is.”

“I've never been married nor engaged.”

That surprised her. He must be at least thirty-five. “You’ve never been engaged?”

“No.”

“Then why that reaction to my name?”

He shrugged. “Darbi isn't a very common name.”

“I guess not.” She smiled. “At least you don’t trip over black women named Darbi every few feet.”

A brief smile curved his lips upward. “A ... friend of mine has a friend named Darbi.”

“And? Do I remind you of her?”

“I've never met her.” He stroked her cheek. “At least I hadn't met her.”

“I'm not following you.”

He slipped his arms around her waist and hugged her close. “It's not important.”

“No? Then you'll come back to bed?”

He stared down at her. “I probably shouldn't.”

She pressed a finger against his lips. “But you will?”

He sighed and nodded. “Yes.”

“Good.” She smiled and stepped away from him. “Take off your briefs and let's go back to bed.”

He arched a brow. “Take off my briefs? Why?”

“Because I want to sleep in the nude with you.” She grinned at him. “Shameless, ain’t I?”

He shook his head. “Sweet and addictive is more like it.”

“You’re sweet. How is it you’ve never been engaged?”

He grinned and moved close to rub his groin against hers. “Just lucky, I guess.”

She feigned annoyance. “Take off your briefs and come back to bed.”

“I don't sleep in the nude. I only take off my briefs if I'm going to make love.” He stroked her breasts. He bent his head and sucked gently at each nipple before lifting his head to leer down at her. “Are we going to make love again after all?”

“No, but I am determined to have my way. Take them off and come back to bed.” She kissed the corner of his mouth and left the bathroom. She slipped into bed and pulled the cover over her body.

He returned to the room moments later -- gloriously naked. A condom covered his erect cock. He paused in the doorway, looking at her, his brow arched. “Like you, I'm determined to have my way, Darbi.”

She liked the way he said her name in that deep, sexy voice of his with that alluring accent. “Are you English?”

“No. I was actually born in Jamaica, but I’m American. My parents are both from South Carolina. I spent very little time there. I was educated in England. Why do you ask?”

“I detect a hint of a British accent warring with just a touch of a southern drawl.”

“Hmm. Do you want to talk about my accent?”

“I don't want to talk at all.” Smiling, she kicked the cover away. “Come to bed.”

He slipped into bed beside her. Urging her onto her back, he slid his body on top of hers. He stared down into her eyes. “You are so sweet and so sexy.”

She smiled. “Do you have a sweet tooth?”

He shook his head. “I didn’t -- until tonight with you.”

She stroked her hands over his back, down to his taut buns. “Then eat up, Clay.”

“I intend to, sweetheart.”

“I like the way you call me sweetheart.”

He smiled. “You’re going to like this, too.” His warm lips covered hers.

She closed her eyes and slipped her arms around him. She definitely liked the intense way he kissed her -- as if he were branding the taste of her lips or his. Or was he attempting to place his brand on her with his kisses?

They spent several moments kissing and caressing each other. Her desire heightened, she reached between their bodies. Closing her fingers around him, she brought his warm flesh to rest against her slit. “I want you again,” she whispered.

“You can have me.” He thrust forward, sliding into her with a slow heat that made her toes curl.

“Oooh ... yes. Oh, yes, you feel so good.” Locking her legs around him, she lost herself in the absolute delight of making love with him again. She hadn’t felt as if she were actually making love and being made love to since she’d realized Martin no longer loved her. Every sexual experience after that had been entirely physical and had not touched her emotions.

What she and Clay were doing -- sharing -- felt as if it were special. Even under the passion he made no attempt to hide, she felt as if her pleasure was of paramount concern to him. Within minutes of his sliding into her, she shuddered and came. He sweetened the experience for her by stilling his movements in her to hold and whisper softly to her. He rolled onto his back with her sprawled on his chest, still impaled on him.

She kissed his chest. “Oh, God, Clay, that was so good.”

He stroked his hands over her back and kissed the top of her head. “I’m glad you enjoyed it, sweetheart. Now go to sleep.”

“You haven't come yet,” she protested.

He eased out of her and moved to lie behind her, spoon fashion. “I'm fine. Go to sleep.”

She reached behind her to stroke his thigh. “Are you always so unselfish?”

“No, I'm not.”

She smiled. “Should I be flattered?”

He slipped an arm around her waist and pressed his lips against her ear. “I'm probably going to like you a lot more than I should. Should that make you feel flattered? Judge for yourself.”

She suspected she was going to have the same problem. “Does that mean we're seeing each other again?”

He stroked his fingers against her slit. “Damn I’d love that, but that would probably not be a good idea.”

Disappointment settled over her like a weight. She sighed. “Maybe not, but I don't want this to be a one-night stand.”

“Do you generally date white men?”

“I ... well ... why do you ask that when we’ve ... made love twice?”

“Do you?”

“Well ... not usually, but --”

“Then why start now?”

She swallowed slowly. This conversation wasn’t going as she’d hoped. “I don't want this to be the only night we spend together.”

“Are you always so open about your feelings?”

“Only when I'm sufficiently aroused. And believe me, you have me very aroused.”

He nibbled at her ear. “The feeling is mutual.”

She moistened her lips. “It's a little late to ask this, but are you seeing anyone?”

“No.”

She grimaced. “I guess it's obvious I'm not either or I wouldn't need my toys.” She turned her head. “How long are you here? Can we see each other again? I'd much prefer spending some time with you than with my toys.”

“I'm flattered.” He kissed her ear and caressed her breasts. “Now go to sleep.”

So he wasn’t prepared to commit to more than a one-night stand. Fine. She’d tackle the subject again in the morning. “If you want me to go to sleep, you have to stop caressing me. You're making me so hot. If you keep this up, I'm going to be between your legs fucking you like white on rice.”

“Like white on rice? How does one fuck like white on rice?”

“If you keep touching my breasts, you're' going to find out.”

He laughed and stilled his hand on her breasts.

“Clay?”

“Yes, honey?”

Sweetheart and now honey. Why did mundane endearments sound so sexy and potent on his lips? “This has been the most incredible night of my life,” she told him. “I've never felt quite this ... content after sex.” Realizing what she’d just admitted, she bit her lip. Okay, girl, the sex was great, but don’t go losing your mind just because he knows how to use his big dick.

He sighed. “It's been pretty special for me too, Darbi.”

She turned in his arms and closed her fingers around his cock. “I want to do this with you again and again.” She moved his shaft along her slit. “I'm tired now, but I feel so greedy for more sex with you. I’d love to lie on my stomach with you on top of me.” She shuddered with anticipation.

“I ... I want that too, but it's late and we both have an early day. Let's go to sleep.”

Although drowsy and sated, it still took a while to sleep once she settled her body against his.

* * *

“You want me to do what? Clay, are you out of your mind? Do you know what time it is?”

Seated in the hotel lobby, Clay listened to Damien's annoyed voice in silence for several moments before he spoke again. “It's 2:20 here, that would make it 5:20 there.”

“A.m., Clay. a.m. What the hell are you doing up so late?”

He stared down at the crumpled piece of hotel stationary in his hand, sighed, and shook his head. “Never mind that. I need you to get up, get dressed, and be here as soon as you can.”

“Why? You were so gung-ho to attend the job fair yourself.”

“Look, Damien, I'm so damned tired I can barely keep my eyes open. I've left a message for Beth to tell her you're running very late, but you will be taking my place at the fair. Now I'm going to catch a few hours’ sleep and then I'll be on the next plane home --”

“Clay --”

“I need you to do this for me, Damien without asking questions. I don’t want to talk. I just need this favor from you. Will you do it?”

Damien swore softly. “Yes.”

“Thanks.”

“What's wrong, Clay?”

“Nothing. I'm just tired.”

“You don't sound fine, Clay. It's not like you to --”

“There's going to be someone at the fair I'd rather not meet today. Okay? Satisfied?”

“A woman?”

“It damn sure isn’t a man.”

“It's not Calder's woman again? Don't tell me you-”

“No, Damien, it's not her! That's over.”

“Then you must be losing your touch.”

“What's that supposed to mean?”

“First you let Calder steal your woman and now you're telling me you've met a woman you can't handle?”

“First, Calder already had Sharde when we met her. And second, I'm not in the mood for this shit, Damien!”

“Okay. Fine, but she must be someone special. What's her name? Do I know her?”

“I didn't say I couldn't handle her.” Along with the almost breathless sexual hunger he'd felt for her, had come an unexpected and unwanted tenderness. He frowned. And a surprising desire to get to know her. Surrendering to that urge would lead him down a path it was best not to travel with a woman who didn’t generally date white men. “I'd just rather not meet her again ... at least not yet.”

“So you’re running away from her with your tail between your legs?”

“Damien! I am not in the mood! Can we leave it at that?”

“Damn. You sound rattled.”

He took a deep, calming breath. He felt rattled. Getting out of that bed and leaving Darbi had taken every ounce of his resolve. And every moment since he’d let himself out of the room, he’d been battling a pressing need to return.

“I’m fine.”

“Hmmm. Okay. What about Amber?”

He frowned. “She's eighteen. She can be left alone for a few hours.”

“Fine, but if she gets into more trouble while we're both in transit, I'm not taking the heat from your mother.”

He smiled. Behind her back, Damien called Clay and Amber's mother, their mother. To her face, he called her Mom, just as Amber called their father Dad. “You tell Amber if she can't behave for a few hours, I'll lock her narrow behind up until she's twenty-one.”

“Like that's going to work. That sister of yours is a royal pain.” 

“As were you. She'll be fine for a few hours.”

“Fine. Tell Beth I'll be there as soon as I can.”

“Thanks.”

“Thanks hell, you're going to owe me big time for this, Clay.”

“Tell me about it. Now get your ass in gear.”

He shut off his cell phone and sat back in the chair. He smoothed the crumpled piece of paper in his hand and read the message he’d written to Darbi, but decided against leaving.

Dear Darbi

When you learn my identity, you’ll realize, that no matter how much we might both want it, a relationship between us would not only be impractical but also unlikely to succeed. However, I did want you to know I will cherish the memory of the night we spent together.

I hope you’ll forgive me for not delivering this message in person.

Take care of yourself and be happy.

Clayton Frazier, CEO, Fra-Tech.

Why the hell should she forgive him for not having the balls to have faced her in person and told her who he was and why he’d left? He crumpled the paper in his hand. Instead of tossing it into the trash, he pushed it in the pocket of the jacket he wore.

He rubbed his temples. After he'd had a few hours’ sleep, he'd decide how to handle Darbi. Handle her? What was there to handle? They'd shared a few hours in bed when they shouldn't have. It wouldn't happen again. End of story.