Rub It In (8 page)

Undercurrents flew between them, even as they continued their conversation. “Were. Were damn good at your job. You quit, remember?”

“Right.” And that was an important thing to remember because the minute she gave in to whatever this was between them, the possibility of working for him again would be gone forever. After what had happened in New York, she refused to sleep with anyone she worked with—especially someone she worked
for.

“The crew I usually use was unavailable until Friday. We had a long list and a short time to complete it. We needed a full crew for the entire two weeks. I couldn’t wait for them. These guys came highly recommended.”

“By who? The three stooges?”

“One of the men I usually use.”

“I’m guessing these guys are blackmailing him for referrals, because I doubt they could figure out which end of a hammer to use.”

Dropping her arms from around his neck, she crossed them over her chest. She didn’t want to be impressed by the way he compensated for the loss of her help in keeping her rear end off the floor. But she couldn’t help it.

His arm muscles bunched and his chest flexed. She could see the clearly defined bulge beneath the thin, wet material of his shirt. He was built. Why had she never noticed that before? Maybe she should take up surfing instead of running if the result was that kind of muscle tone.

“Give them some credit. They fixed the roof of the restaurant with no problems. Hammers aren’t their issue. I will admit that perhaps plumbing and electrical jobs are out of their jurisdiction.”

“I don’t have to give them credit for anything. They’ve cost me enough money. I’m firing them.”

“And how do you propose to finish the list of repairs and renovations before we reopen?”

He leaned over her, bringing their mouths centimeters apart. His eyes flared as they toured slowly across her face to settle on her mouth. They glittered with a promise and heat that sent awareness zinging through her body.

He hummed, deep in his throat. The sound was wild and sexy, a last warning of his intent.

“I guess that’s my problem now. Last chance. If you want to walk out that door you better do it now, because in sixty seconds I won’t be able to let you go.”

It was the sexiest thing any man had ever said to her. What woman could resist that kind of naked admission?

Not her. Giving in was inevitable, but that didn’t mean she had to throw all caution to the wind. Caution was part of her DNA.

“I’m not staying.”

“I don’t remember suggesting you would.”

“I just want to make sure you know this won’t change anything.”

His mouth dropped to her throat and trailed across her skin. The sharp edge of his teeth followed the tendon that curved from her neck down her shoulder. He didn’t hurt her, but it was hard to miss the implication that he could have…if he’d wanted to. That kind of leashed power was intoxicating.

His words brushed softly against her skin, but that did nothing to lessen their impact. “You’re wrong. It’s going to change a lot of things.”

“But not me leaving,” she breathed out, trying desperately to keep hold of her thoughts.

He lifted his head and speared her with his gaze. She felt hunted, vulnerable, desired.

“No, whatever this is won’t keep you from leaving.”

She dampened her dry lips, rolling them into her mouth and swiping her tongue across them. “As long as we’re clear.”

“Oh, we’re clear.”

8

S
IMON
STALKED
into the bedroom, her body tucked safely against his own.

He did not like the dirt that covered her skin. Not because it bothered him that she was dirty—it didn’t—but because it meant she’d gotten close enough to the fire to be hurt.

When she’d materialized out of the smoke beside him in that tiny alley he’d wanted to growl and yell and carry her as far away from the danger as possible. Logically, he’d realized that wasn’t possible. He’d needed to take care of the injured man. But at that moment logic had only barely come into play.

He moved to set her onto the dark navy bedspread covering the king-size mattress in the middle of the room. Marcy protested, a high-pitched squeak erupting from her. “Don’t you dare. You’ll ruin it. We’re filthy.”

“I don’t care,” he answered, dropping her onto the soft surface. He’d buy a new bed if he had to, but nothing was going to stop him from having her. Right now.

Marcy tried to keep her body off the comforter as she scrambled for the other side of the bed. She glared at him over her shoulder, but he didn’t let that deter him. Grasping her by the ankle, he stopped her retreat and pulled her back to the center of the bed.

“Give it up. It’s already dirty,” he rumbled.

Marcy collapsed onto her stomach diagonally across his bed, her tangled hair running down her back. Without thought, he brushed the mass away, revealing the tender flesh at her nape. It was soft and fragrant as he buried his face against her. That tempting scent of hers clouded around him, overpowering the bitter smell of smoke. This was what he wanted. Something easy and beautiful to crowd out everything else.

His lips caressed her skin.

She made a small sound deep in her throat, something between a protest and anticipation. “Don’t do that. I’m covered in soot.”

“Not here,” he whispered against her neck. He watched with fascination as goose bumps erupted across her skin. How could the rough texture of them against his mouth be this arousing?

He sucked a tiny taste of her into his mouth. Her back arched, pushing her closer against him. Breath caught in her lungs, the tiny hitch rocketing through him.

He wanted more.

Needed to see all of her, now. Pulling back, he grasped the neckline of her shirt and ripped.

“Don’t—” she protested, but the threads were already coming apart in his hands. He wanted to see her that way, wild and ravaged as he pumped relentlessly inside her.

“I liked this shirt,” she said with a resigned sigh. Ever practical, she wouldn’t waste time fighting about something that couldn’t be undone. Good for him, since the last thing he wanted to do was fight with her.

“It needed to be put out of its misery anyway. What? High school?”

“College.”

His fingers slid down the exposed arch of her spine, a gentle caress that she bowed against. His fingers played beneath the string of the bikini top that circled her chest. Taking the ends, he tickled them over her skin, pulling a small moan of protest from her parted lips. Slowly he tugged at the tie until it finally let go.

His lips and fingers roamed. Her body was hot against his mouth. Her skin was soft and smooth, tempting him to take more. Even there, she had a tiny sprinkling of freckles and he paused long enough to pay homage to the few close by.

Darting his tongue out, he let it slide languidly over the tiny bumps of her spine. Her hips bucked when he reached the waistband of her shorts.

“For god’s sake, take them off.”

“If you insist,” he said, a grin tugging at his lips.

She was as enflamed by this as he was. Knowing that only made the ache inside worse. He wanted to see the fire in her eyes as she finally broke apart beneath him. For two years he’d tried not to think about this moment, but had failed miserably.

Now he had the reality and it was so much better than anything even his imagination could have conjured up.

Marcy lifted her hips, sliding her hands beneath her to work the snap and zipper. She struggled, wiggling back and forth, and he just watched, enjoying the way her body undulated and the desperation that made her clumsy.

The waistband relaxed, slipping down and revealing the dent at the top of her ass. Without waiting for her to finish, he leaned over and ran his mouth along the newly exposed skin.

“Damn,” she breathed out. Her body twisted beneath him, but with him pressed against her, she just couldn’t get enough leverage to rid herself of the shorts and bathing-suit bottom.

Taking pity on them both, he curled his fingers in at her hips and pulled them off. She was beautiful.

Propped on her elbows, Marcy watched him over the curve of her shoulder. Her blue eyes smoldered, as hot as the fire they’d both just fought.

Without breaking their connection, Simon reached between her legs and pressed gently, asking her to spread wider for him. She did. The soft rasp of her thighs against the comforter as they opened for him rippled down his body.

His erection pressed painfully against his own zipper, but he wasn’t about to let it free. Not yet. If he did, this would end way too soon. He wanted his fill of her first.

He ran his fingers softly up the insides of her thighs, just as he’d done when she was asleep. Only this time there was nothing to stop him from following all the way up to the soft pink center of her sex. Oh, and this time she watched him with half-lidded eyes, sharp arousal stamped on her face.

She rolled her hips, trying to hurry his journey upward, but he refused to rush. He tortured her, running his hands up and down her legs, over the curve of her ass, brushing as close to the center of her sex as possible without actually touching.

Every time he got close, Marcy’s body jerked. The response was involuntary. He knew without a doubt because he watched the warring emotions deep in her eyes—desperate need fought against a refusal to open her mouth and ask for what she wanted. It was silly, but it became a game of who would break first.

It wasn’t the first time they’d played this particular game, although it was the first time they’d done it in bed. Simon had to admit this version was a hell of a lot more interesting and enjoyable.

And even if she couldn’t reach him to effect a little physical torture of her own, Marcy was far from helpless. She had plenty of weapons at her disposal and had no problem using them.

Widening her legs even more, she exposed the swollen center of her sex. Simon growled, deep in his throat. She was slick, covered with the evidence of her arousal. For him. The scent of that arousal filled the air around him, making his heart pound restlessly in his chest and his fingers clamp hard around the tops of her thighs.

She rolled her hips, this time deliberately, hiding and then revealing what he really wanted. And he lost it. Without even touching him, she’d won.

He had to feel her, taste her, have her before he went mad.

Spreading the folds of her sex, he dived in and latched his mouth hard against her. She whimpered and bucked beneath him, just as devastated as he was. And that took some of the sting of his defeat away.

That and the taste of her on his tongue.

He lapped at her, enjoying her instant reaction when he brushed across the nub of her clit. He played there, relishing the way she panted, squirmed and ground harder against his mouth. His tongue speared inside her and the enveloping heat of her had a red-hot haze clouding everything, everything but her.

Somewhere in the back of his mind he realized he should probably stop, probably slow down and take a minute. But he didn’t want to. Couldn’t seem to find the will to do it. He’d never been this overwhelmed and out of control with a woman before in his life. He was a calculating lover. He knew exactly what to do, exactly where to touch, when to push and when to back off to give his partner the most explosive orgasm possible.

But he couldn’t back off. Not this time. He wanted to feel her fall apart against his mouth. He wanted the pulse of her against his lips. He wanted the taste of her orgasm on his tongue.

Marcy arched her back, straining hard against him. She buried her head against the bed, muffling the sounds of her pleasure. But he even wanted that. He wanted everything she had and all she could give him.

Her body bowed tight beneath him, every single muscle straining for the release that he knew was so close. And when she finally gave in, her body convulsing and quivering with the force of it, he wasn’t disappointed. She screamed, his name hot on her lips.

And he wanted more.

* * *

M
ARCY
COLLAPSED
onto the bed, her body trembling with the aftermath of spent desire.

Holy shit.
But despite the satisfaction rolling through her body, she wasn’t fulfilled. Just getting off wasn’t enough. If that was all she’d wanted, she could have handled that herself. Although it definitely wouldn’t have been anywhere close to as good as what Simon had just done to her. But still…she wasn’t finished, and considering his fingers continued to roam across her skin, she didn’t think he was, either.

He’d better not be.

Gathering her shaking legs beneath her, Marcy pushed up and rolled over. Luckily Simon was quick on the draw, because the electrical pulses running through her body had apparently impaired her control over her own muscles. Her leg flailed, her knee coming millimeters from colliding with his chin.

His palm cupped her leg, guiding it back down to the bed. He settled his mouth at the juncture where her thigh met her hip and sucked. She nearly came off the bed again, the sensation somehow tickling and driving her crazy at the same time.

But she wasn’t about to let him drag her back under. Pushing against his head, Marcy sent him rocking back onto his heels between her spread thighs. Confusion pulled his eyebrows down over smoldering eyes.

A shiver took her, a combination of aftershock and the intensity of the unspent desire she saw in his eyes.

“Take ’em off,” she ordered, pointing her finger from the tip of his head down to his toes so he knew she meant every last stitch.

She was sprawled out before him, completely naked. Had acted like a wanton hussy from the moment his hands touched her body. And she was tired of being vulnerable all alone.

Scooting away, he stood at the end of the bed. Marcy propped herself up on her elbows and settled in to enjoy the show. He crossed his arms over his body, grasped the edge of his shirt and lifted it up slowly. This wasn’t the mundane task of taking off one piece of clothing so it could be replaced by another. It was so much more—the first time she would see all of him, everything he hid from the world beneath those careless clothes.

And right now she wanted that more than her next breath.

Hard abs appeared and her mouth began to water. She licked her lips. It was the closest she was getting to running her tongue across those valleys and planes—at least for now.

His skin was bronzed by the sun. A light dusting of blond hair curled over the swell of his pecs, narrowing and disappearing beneath the band of his shorts.

He pulled his head through the opening of his shirt. His blond hair clouded out around his head in sexy disarray. The shirt was ruined, dirt, soot and water ground into the fibers. For the first time, Marcy noticed the singed edges and a renewed blast of fear settled heavily in her chest.

Simon could have been seriously hurt.

But he hadn’t been. Studiously pushing the unwelcome and unproductive thought from her mind, she focused all her attention on the amazing body he was revealing.

Strong fingers popped the button at the top of his fly and then deliberately tugged at the tab of his zipper. The sound of metal grinding against metal filled the room and her legs scissored restlessly against the bed.

He rolled his hips and the khaki shorts hit the floor. Beneath them the tantalizing length of his erection strained against confining briefs. Red. She should have known there was nothing plain about this man. Everything about him was bold and unapologetic.

And while that bugged the crap out of her in their business dealings, she had to admit that in bed it was sexy as hell.

He knew what he wanted and he took it. Today, right now, he wanted her, and she had no problems with that.

Pushing up onto her knees, Marcy crawled to the end of the bed and knelt in front of him. Her palms bracketed his hips. The heat of him exploded through her, stealing what little breath she had left. She half expected him to take over again, to kiss her and bend her backward beneath him. But he didn’t.

Moving her hands up his chest, she enjoyed the way the soft hair tickled her palms. The sharp intake of breath through his teeth as she grazed the sensitive peak of a nipple reverberated through her body. Her breasts tingled, feeling neglected.

He reached for her then, taking the sharp peaks between thumb and finger and rolling gently. She elongated the curve of her spine, pressing the aching tips harder into his hold.

Leaning into his body, she brought their mouths together and whispered, “I thought I said to take it all off.”

His sharp eyes flashed, deep and fierce. “I’m a little busy. Why don’t you do it?”