Picture Me Sexy (7 page)

Annoyed with himself, Sam finally manufactured a forced chuckle. “I'm fine. Just caught a little chill.”
That might go away if you'd take your hand off my arm,
Sam thought, though he doubted it.

Delaney finally withdrew her hand, but curiously she seemed to have moved a little closer to him on the couch. One of them had gravitated closer, and given the way he seemed intrinsically drawn to her, he couldn't rule himself out as the culprit.

Delaney shifted closer and raised the quilt. “Here, share my blanket.”

Panic seized him. It was inevitable, he knew, and yet he still hesitated. “I can get another—”

“Don't be silly,” she said briskly. She spread the blanket over him and settled in against his shoulder.
Her scent and warmth immediately engulfed him. Sam closed his eyes against the onslaught of sensation, prayed for divine intervention. Her naked thigh burned through the thick fabric of his jeans, practically branding him in the process. His mouth managed to say thank you while his mind screamed fool.

“Ah,” she sighed, wriggling even closer still. “Much better. Even with goose bumps you're warm.”

One usually was when on fire, Sam thought with furious despair. He couldn't think of a single thing to say, so he smiled down at her instead.

And that ended up being a monumental mistake.

The look of raw longing he saw in her bright green eyes combined with the close proximity of her lips was temptation beyond words.

There were a million reasons why he shouldn't act on what was happening between them. She was vulnerable, was an emotional wreck. That in and of itself was more than enough motivation to derail this lust train they both seemed to be riding. But there were other things to consider as well, namely his professional reputation and the fact that he wanted to work for her. Seducing her would undoubtedly wreck his chances of ever going to work at the
Chifferobe.

Sam knew all of this—
knew it
—and yet he also knew that before night's end, he would have made love to Delaney Walker. For reasons he couldn't begin to fathom, the act seemed predestined, the decision out of his hands.

Delaney's soft green gaze searched his face and she licked her bottom lip. Sam shuddered in response. “Are you by any chance psychic?” she asked in slightly foggy tones.

Sam swallowed, unable to look away. “No. Why?”

Her gaze slid to his lips and lingered for an interminable second, then bumped back up and met his. “Because if you're feeling what I'm feeling, then I want you to read my mind.”

Liquid heat slid through his veins at that vague, yet seductively profound statement. He didn't need to possess any telepathic talent to know exactly what she was thinking—his thoughts mirrored hers.

Again, something made him hesitate, made him want to forestall the inevitable. Which was crazy, when he wanted her more than he wanted his next breath, had been forcibly drawn to her from the first moment he'd seen her. He didn't know how or why—logic didn't exist in madness—but for some bizarre reason, he knew that once he took this step—once he was with her—he would never be the same. He would be forever, irrevocably changed…and it scared the living hell out of him.

“Read your mind?” Sam repeated with a forced chuckle, another pathetic bid for time.

“Yeah.”

Irresistibly drawn, his gaze slid along the smooth curve of her cheek, down the side of her neck. “Why?”

She stared hungrily at his mouth, bit her bottom lip. “So that you'll do what I want you to do without having to be told.” She closed her eyes tightly and frustration momentarily entered her tone. “Because telling you is too hard, makes me responsible, and—And tonight I don't want to be.” She opened her eyes once more and her beseeching gaze met his. “Tonight I just…want.”

The thin thread of his resolve snapped. “Reading your mind might be a little hard.” Sam turned, reached up and ran the pad of his thumb over her mouth, felt another shiver eddy through him. He lowered his voice. “Why don't I start by reading your lips?”

F
OR ONE AGONIZING SECOND
,
Delaney thought that she'd read everything wrong, thought the flashes of desire she'd seen tonight were simply a product of her overwrought, wishful imagination. The first tingle of humiliation had begun to sting her cheeks when that careful mask he'd worn throughout dinner finally cracked, giving her a glimpse of the heat he'd banked all evening.

But one didn't dare to play with fire, then expect not to get burned.

It was all Delaney could do not to moan when Sam slid his thumb over her bottom lip. All she could do to stem a sigh of profound relief. The first gentle brush of his lips against hers whipped her insides into a froth of shivery sensation. Her lids fluttered shut under the weighty drug of desire.

With a guttural growl of hunger, Sam turned, framed her face with trembling hands and deepened the kiss. The kiss was slow, deep and thorough—the perfect point between dry and sloppy—and made her blood hot and sluggish in her veins. Her nipples pearled and her sex commenced a steady, deliciously sinful throb.

Sam tunneled his fingers into her hair, angled her head to grant him better access and molded her more firmly against him. He fed and suckled at her mouth, a slow, deep sweep of his tongue against hers, an erotic tug at her bottom lip and then he'd start the mind-numbing process all over again.

Delaney didn't know when she'd ever been more affected by a kiss. Her bones seemed to have melted and any trace of cognitive thinking had all but stopped. Sensation and want had taken over, leaving her with nothing more than the driving need to see this attraction through to the end, to see where this man could lead her.

And, were this kiss any indication, he could undoubtedly lead her to the very zenith of pleasure and back again.

Places she'd never been and would most likely never see again.

With that thought in her foggy mind, Delaney sent her hands on a greedy exploration of Sam. Her thumb skimmed his jaw, rasped against the faintest hint of stubble as she moved her fingers up and into the silky hair above his ears. She pulled her lips from his, trailed her mouth along that chiseled jaw and then down the side of his neck.

Sam shuddered and groaned in response, ran his hand up her sensitive side and then back down again and then shaped one big palm over her rump. Another delicious shiver racked her. She could feel the hard ridge of his arousal against her hip and the idea
that she'd caused that uncontrollable reaction in him made her purr with female satisfaction. Her feminine muscles tightened and dewed, readying for him, readying for the evening ahead.

Sam swept her hair aside and nuzzled her neck, causing another tiny shudder to tingle along her spine. His lips tugged at her earlobe, his warm breath setting off another bomb of sensation, and all the while, those big talented hands were all over her, kneading, caressing, and shaping her body. His movements were slow, deliberately sensual and completely unhurried, as though she were a gift to be savored rather than opened hastily. Delaney's lips curled with pleasure.

Perhaps he was a mind reader after all.

Sam kissed her deeply once more, the rhythmic seek and retreat of his tongue a prologue to a more intimate act. He tugged her more closely to him, gently positioned her until Delaney found herself straddled over him, her thighs on either side of his narrow hips, her dampened sex nestled snugly against his arousal. Her thighs quaked beneath the exquisite pressure and a soft, whimpering mewl issued from her throat.

He rocked against her mound, her breath caught and her world stilled and all but fractured.

Sam smiled against her lips and his thumbs skimmed the undersides of her breasts, causing another tornado of longing to funnel through her. Her nipples pouted, begged for his touch. She wanted that
talented mouth of his there where his fingers played, and then lower still between her thighs. She wanted an everything-but-the kind of orgasm, the kind she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he could give her.

Basically, she just wanted him.

Sam chose that moment to simultaneously rock against her and fully cup her breasts. He rolled her beaded nipples between his fingers, and the shock of the combined sensation ripped a silent oh of satisfaction from her throat.

“God, you're beautiful,” he told her, his voice a deep rasp like silk on velvet.

A bud of pleasure bloomed in her chest…then abruptly withered as she realized the implication of the compliment. She stilled.

He could see her.

Delaney buried her head in his neck and swallowed a frustrated wail. Not now, dammit, she thought as the familiar claw of modesty attempted to drag her from this remarkable sensual haze. She squeezed her eyes shut. She didn't want to feel this way, didn't want to second-guess herself, didn't want to be self-conscious. She wasn't that rejected fat child anymore, but a grown woman who'd shed those pounds. She desperately wanted to be with him, to embrace her sexuality, to feel the power of sensation that she'd enjoyed seconds ago. She wanted to be different, wanted this time with him to be different.

Sam scooted to the edge of the couch, abruptly
stood and lifted her up into his powerful arms. “Why don't we continue this in bed?”

Relief permeated every pore and she gratefully relaxed against him. Mind reader or not, Sam Martelli certainly seemed to be able to anticipate her every need, and right now she needed to cloak herself in the cover of night. She couldn't recall when any man had ever considered her needs, much less seemed to put them first. A novel experience, indeed.

An emotion that didn't belong in this one-night adventure momentarily gripped her, but she pushed the tender sentiment aside. She wouldn't allow herself to romanticize this night—he was giving her what she wanted and getting what he wanted in the process. A thoughtful gesture, yes, but no doubt one that was a little self-serving.

Which was fine because she had an agenda of her own as well. “How about that bed in your studio?” Geez, did that sultry purr belong to her?

Sam chuckled softly and quickly changed direction. “As the lady wishes.”

Good, Delaney thought as another thrill of anticipation twisted in her belly. She had fantasized about the two of them on that bed only hours ago and now she'd have the cover of darkness and the memory of the set to heighten the experience.

Sam found his way through the darkened loft and unerringly deposited her onto the soft, fluffy bed. He leaned over and planted a leisurely kiss full of secret
pleasures and wicked promise. “Hold that thought. I'll be right back.”

Somewhat breathless, Delaney nodded and listened to him retrace his steps. She wondered but a second where he could be going before realization dawned—protection. It would have been in his bedroom, not here in the studio. Something about that thought triggered another bloom of delight. If he didn't keep it in here, then one could reasonably assume that this might very well be a first for him. Delaney grinned, unreasonably pleased.

She drew the coverlet back and encountered another pleasant surprise—satin sheets. Another slow smile curled her lips, even as something wicked slithered through her limbs. My, but this man didn't do anything in half measures. Like her, Delaney realized with a curious start. Sam seemed to be every bit as detail oriented as she was.

Seconds later she heard him pad back into the studio, heard him slide something onto the nightstand. The bed shifted as he slid underneath the covers with her. Delaney inhaled sharply as his bare chest landed against her side. He snaked a muscled arm around her middle and pulled her tightly against him. Pure male heat rolled off him in waves. His scent, something earthy and masculine, drifted into her nostrils, curled around her already heightened senses.

His warm breath stirred at her neck. “I believe we were right about—” he nibbled her neck “—here.”

A violent shiver shook her. Oy, indeed they were.

And just like that, something naughty and wanton came to life inside her, a heretofore dormant physical sensuality rose above her insecurities, seemingly released by the power of a reckless night with a man that a proverbial wet dream was made of.

Or
for,
as the case may be.

Delaney's palms had been itching to touch him from the first moment she'd seen him, so she slid her hands over his magnificent chest and indulged the impulse. He felt like warm marble, the perfect combination of hard and soft, of powerful muscle and silky skin. All that latent power locked beneath something so innocuously smooth. She raked her nails over his the flat nubs of his nipples, and was rewarded when she heard the breath stutter out of his lungs.

Sam tsked under his breath, rolled her onto her back and slung a heavy thigh over her leg. Apparently, he'd shed more than his shirt, Delaney thought dimly, as his masculine hair abraded her skin.

“It's tit for tat, baby,” he murmured huskily. “Just remember that.”

Oh, would she ever.

The thought was no more born than abandoned, because at that precise moment Sam's hot mouth latched onto her breast through her teddy and gently suckled. Pleasure rainbowed through her, made her go rigid and boneless all in the same instant. She pushed her fingers into his hair, squeezed her thighs together in an effort to stem the hot rush of sensation.
Her womb clenched and another warm pulse of heat slickened her core. The insistent throb that had begun to beat between her thighs increased its tempo, an unspoken yet unmistakable plea for release.

Suddenly the barely-there teddy made her feel overdressed. She wanted to feel the smooth slide of his skin against hers, wanted every part that made him male against every part that made her female. Her soft to his hard.

Seemingly psychic again, Sam left off her breast and began to gently tug the teddy off with his teeth. Playful nips that drove her mad, made her desperate. He bared first one shoulder, then the next, then continued to gently pull the slinky fabric lower and lower. Delaney felt the material catch on her tightened nipples, felt it give, and then reveled in another altogether more wonderful sensation. Sam's mouth on her clothed breast had been amazing, but that hot, greedy mouth suckling at her naked breast was indescribably perfect. So perfect that it all but brought tears to her eyes.

Her belly grew all warm and muddled, her thighs quivered, and if he didn't touch her soon she'd undoubtedly self-combust. She'd never been so hot, so achingly needy, and she'd never wanted any man more than this one. Something about Sam Martelli simply did it for her. He stimulated her mentally and physically…sexually.

Delaney smoothed her hands over his spectacular shoulders, down his back and traced the fluted line
of his spine. All that muscle, that strength and virility was hers for the night. She dragged her nails back up over his ribs, scored them lightly with her finger-nails and heard—and felt—a hiss of pleasure puff over her aching nipple.

He licked a hot path to her other breast, swirled his tongue around it several mind-numbing times before flattening the crown against the roof of his mouth. Her breath caught in her throat and her body arched into him, begging for something more.

The tingling trail of his fingers down her trembling belly told her that he was about to deliver more than she could ever possibly handle. Sam drew a couple of lazy figure eights over her ribs and stomach, gradually moving lower and lower until his fingers finally brushed her drenched curls.

“Oh, please,” Delaney choked out. Her hips tipped toward his teasing fingers.

“Soon,” he promised. “We've got all night.”

He was right she knew, but Delaney didn't want to wait all night. She wanted him now, this very instant.

His fingers dipped inside and unerringly stroked her clit.

Then again, Delaney thought as a tidal wave of sensation broke over her, perhaps she could wait a few minutes more. But she wouldn't do it without subjecting him to a little well-meaning torture as well.

Delaney licked her thumb, then reached down and
swirled the wet pad over the engorged head of his penis. He jerked in response, sending his pulsing length into her waiting hand. The fire of lust licked through her veins as she gently worked the slippery skin against her palm.

Sam sucked in a sharp breath. “Damn.”

“Tit for tat,” she reminded in a teasing, somewhat broken voice. She couldn't have kept her voice steady if she'd tried— Sam had fractionally increased the pressure against her sensitized nub and the intense pleasure was almost more than she could bear.

“Something tells me I may live to regret those words,” he said in that deep lazy voice that made her insides melt. He dragged a couple of fingers down her cleft, dipped one long finger inside and expertly stroked a hot button she hadn't known she possessed. Delaney's breath hitched and she pressed against his questing finger.

She parlayed his move with one of her own—she cupped his balls, trailed her fingers over the tight sack and played at the base of his penis until Sam's control snapped and he moved out of reach.

Delaney barely had time to mourn the loss of her toys when Sam spread her thighs, parted her curls and fastened his mouth at her core. The shock of sensation ripped the breath from her lungs and bowed her body off the sheets. He lapped at her clit like a greedy kitten, the rasp of his tongue the most wonderful kind of friction.

“Mmm—” he licked lazily “—you taste good.”

Simply imagining that gorgeous head of his positioned between her legs made her insides quiver. Made her feel wicked and brazen and sexy, all of the things she only felt when designing her lingerie. The combined three snaked through her limbs, making her all languid and hot.

The most exquisite sort of tension had begun to build in her womb. Delaney recognized the sharp tug of beginning climax, hungered for it, as she never had before. From the dimmest recesses of her mind, she noticed that something was different about this time, though she couldn't exactly put her finger on it…and at the moment was disinclined to try. Who could think with a hot tongue anchored oh-so-wonderfully between their legs?