Seducing Sam (13 page)

“Really?” Sam almost croaked,
feeling distinctly uncomfortable.

Automatically, he went to push his
glasses up his nose, only to realise they weren’t there when instead he prodded
himself in the forehead.

Debbie frowned.  “Are you all
right, Sam?”  She looked him up and down.  “You look a little – I don’t know. 
Not yourself.”

She had no idea.

“A little hot and rumpled.”

She
really
had no idea.

“I bet you’ve been out the back
gardening again, haven’t you?”  Debbie turned to Shelly.  “Sam’s always in the
garden.  I tell him to keep his shirt on or he’ll get sunburned.’

“Oh, every man needs some sun.” 
Shelly’s eyes gleamed as she eyed him.  “And its not always gardening that
makes a man sweat, hmmmm, Sam?”

Uh-oh.  Going by the look in her
eyes, the slight curve of those ruby-red lips, Shelly was onto him.  She knew he’d
been up to something much more carnal than simply digging among plants.

“Uh – that’s true.”  Over their
heads, Sam saw Carly run up her garden path and onto the veranda.

Debbie caught his glance and spun
around, but by then Carly was safely inside, the door shut securely behind her.

Probably locked.  And bolted.  No
doubt had the hall side table against it as well, just to be on the safe side.

Damn it.

Lowering his gaze, he caught
Shelly studying him before lowering her eyes to brazenly look at his chest. 
And lower.

He had the sudden urge to place
his hands in front of his shorts to protect his poor dick from her shameless contemplation,
but then Debbie turned back to them and Shelly was all sweet smiles again, her
gaze back on Sam’s face.

“Anyway.” Debbie paused.  “Sam,
you’ve gone all flushed.  Are you sure you’re all right?”

No, he wasn’t all right.  Frustrated
because Carly had fled, and uncomfortable because Shelly wanted to eat him
alive and wasn’t shy about letting him know it.  Now he craved his solitude,
and gratefully he leaped upon Debbie’s words.  “Actually, Debbie, I feel a
little tired.  I think I had too much sun.”  He lifted the plate.  “Thanks for
the biccies.  I’m going to have a shower and lie down for awhile.”  Fumbling
for the door handle behind him, he added, “It was good to meet you, Shelly.” 
Big lie.  Huge whopper.  Didn’t care.

Disappointed, but hope still in
her eyes regardless, Debbie stepped back.  “Sure, Sam.  Hope you’re feeling
well.  If you need anything, you know where I am.”

Not bloody likely.

Catching hold of the security
screen, Shelly smiled widely up at him.  “Sure I can’t help you, Sam?  I know
some great relaxing techniques.”

Not bloody freakin’ likely.  “Uh –
well, thanks, but no thanks, Shelly.  I just need some coolness, a little lie
down.” He almost snatched the door out of her hand.

Jesus, she actually hung on to it,
refusing to relinquish it.  “Maybe you just need some heat to iron out those
kinks, Sam.”

“I’m sure he knows what he’s
doing,” Debbie said blithely, unwittingly assisting Sam in his dilemma of being
too polite to force the door out of Shelly’s hand, and too scared to let it go.

He felt like he was facing a trap
door spider, ready to leap out, grab him, drag him down into her nest and have
her dirty, wicked, and nasty way with him, leaving him a dry husk.

His skin actually crawled.

“Wait.”  Opening the little white
purse that hung on a thin strap from her shoulder, Shelly took out a gold pen
and reaching out, she took his hand, turning it over and smiling up at him. 
“Silly me, I don’t have any paper, but here, let me just write my phone number
on your palm.”  Her teeth flashed in a smile, and Sam could only smile weakly
while thinking that having a line of drool from her teeth wouldn’t be out of
character, she looked hungry enough to devour him.

Placing her hand under his much
larger one to steady it, Shelly wrote her phone number on his palm.  Glancing
up at him as she clicked the pen shut and he stared at the phone number, she
smiled.  “Call me.”

“Uh…”

“You’re looking more flushed by
the minute, Sam.  You better go lie down.”  Debbie started down the steps. 
“Come on, Shelly.  Bye, Sam.”

“Call me.” Shelly winked and
followed Debbie down the steps, her slim hips swaying as she gracefully walked
down the garden path in high heels.

Sam shut the door, clicking the
lock firmly before hurrying into the kitchen and almost tossing the plate of
Anzac biscuits on the table.  Crossing to the ‘fridge, he pulled out a carton
of iced coffee and drank straight from the carton.

He emptied it completely before
lowering the carton, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and staring at
the closed door of the ‘fridge.

Carly.  Sex.  Sex with Carly. 
Mad, ferocious sex.

Damn, she’d actually dared him,
taunted him, and he’d – well, he’d ravished her.  Ravished, such a delightfully
old fashioned word, but it described exactly what he’d done to her.  No
seduction, no sweet words.  Hell, to be honest, he’d taken one look at her
apologising for kissing him and everything had just gone right out of his head.

All common sense.  All reasons not
to do anything hasty.  All warnings not to follow through on his dirty dreams.

He needed more iced coffee. 
Jerking open the ‘fridge door, he saw that there was no more iced coffee, so he
grabbed the unopened carton of iced chocolate, ripped it open and drank deep.

The carton was half empty by the
time he stopped drinking.

Crossing to the table, he leaned
back against it, perching his bum on the edge and gazing out the back security
screen.  The sun beyond the back veranda was bright, the flowers in the garden
beds tossing their heads in the breeze.

Carly had tossed her head, that
wealth of thick, black hair spreading all over his hall runner as she’d arched
back, those magnificent breasts pressing into his chest as he took her like a
ravenous beast.  Rutting beast, more like it.

Another gulp of iced chocolate.

He’d taken her hard and fast, and
he had to admit that he’d revelled in the fact that she had met him thrust for
thrust, that her eyes had gleamed with as much wanton desire as he’d had carnal
lust flowing through him.

Jesus, what had happened?  Sex
with Carly.  Sex that had just about blown his mind.  He’d never had rough sex
before, he’d always been so careful, so mindful of the women he made love to,
always aware that they were much smaller than he, more delicate.  He’d never
felt the need to dominate them.

Pinching the bridge of his nose
with one hand, Sam blew out a long breath.  It wasn’t that Carly wasn’t
delicate, wasn’t slim – okay, she wasn’t delicate or slim, she was a generously
proportioned woman, but hell, she was all woman.  All curves and rounded limbs,
all big bosom, big hips he could grasp and dig his fingers into, hips his palms
could curve around as he held her for their mutual pleasure.

Soft pink lips.  Soft flesh. 
Smooth skin.  All curves and peaks, valleys and sweet, sweet scent.  If he
closed his eyes, he could recall how sweet she smelled.

Now he was getting a boner.

Finishing off the last of the iced
chocolate, he wondered about his next step.  Did he have a next step?  What
step was that?  What did he intend to do?  Should he do anything?

Crumpling the carton in his hand,
he tossed it through the air.  Unfortunately, his eye sight wasn’t that good
without his glasses and it hit the wall instead of landing in the bin.

Sighing, he picked up the carton
and placed it in the bin.  Scratching his head, he looked around.  Where were
his glasses?

Maybe he’d go out for drive, drop
in on Alan and Sophie, let things settle in his own mind before he really
thought about what he was going to do.

If he could find his frickin’ car
keys.

SJ was sitting in the bedroom
doorway, just staring at him.

“Geez,” said Sam.  “I hope you
didn’t see anything you shouldn’t of seen.”

SJ’s ears flicked.

“You’ll need kitty counselling.  I
can’t afford it.”

SJ yawned.

“What, it didn’t meet your
standards from your tom catting days?”

SJ stretched his front paws out,
gripped the runner, saw Sam’s warning expression and withdrew his claws. 
Walking forward, he leisurely stretched one back leg out, then the other.

“I’m not sure what you’re trying
to tell me.”  Sam looked through the door to the blurred vision of the house
opposite.  The flyscreen effectively blocked out a lot of vision, but he could
still see someone on the front veranda.  “Hello.”  Drawn despite himself, he
crossed to the door and peered out.

Squinting, really, because he
didn’t have his glasses.  Glancing around, he spotted them on the hall side
table where he’d put them before falling onto Carly and losing himself in a
heated encounter that still made his half stiff shaft twitch.

Sliding the glasses up his nose,
he peered out again to see Carly hurrying out to her car.  She had on that
uniform again, and those sexy, black Mary Janes.

He vaguely remembered that she’d
been wearing red Mary Janes when she’d come over.  Maybe she had a collection
of them.

“Oh, God, I’ve a shoe fetish.” 
Lifting his glasses with one hand, he rubbed his eyes.  Replacing his glasses,
he watched as the little blue Honda backed out of the driveway onto the road
and drove away.

He had an insane urge to run out
onto the road and wave his arms to get her attention, but man, she was dressed
for work and no way was he going to make a spectacle of himself in the street,
gaining unwanted attention.

The only attention he wanted right
then was from Carly.  He thought.  Did he want her attention?  He certainly
didn’t want her
in
attention.

“That’s it,” he told SJ.  “I need
to rest my brain.  I’m going to get a horror movie and flop on the sofa and
fill my mind with the supernatural.”

Obviously bored, SJ wandered into
the kitchen.

“While you’re in there, see if you
can find the car keys.”

A car horn hooted outside and he
looked back out through the security screen to see Alan getting out of his
car.  In the passenger seat sat Marty, his best friend, and another man sat in
the backseat, only he couldn’t make him out.

“Hey.”  Alan stopped at the bottom
steps.

“Hey.”  Sam pushed open the door. 
“You lot coming in?”

“Nah.  We’re heading for the gym
for a sweaty session of lifting weights.  Impress the chicks.”

“You’re married.”

“I can’t help it if the sight of
me lifting weights impresses the chicks. They can look but not touch.”

Actually, it wasn’t a bad idea. “Sure,
why not.  Give me a minute.”  It’d sure take his mind off his tangled
thoughts. 

“Don’t get all glitzed up for us.”

“You don’t know what you’re
missing.”

“I do, and I repeat,
don’t
.”

Feeling marginally better, Sam
laughed.  “I’ll just get my gear.”  Minutes later, he opened the back door of
the car and got in.  “Hey, Marty.”

“G’day, Sam.”

SJ’s vet and Marty’s
brother-in-law, Tim, sat in the back.

 “Tim.”

“Hey, Sam.”

“Girls, please, stop gossiping. 
All this talk is doing my head in.”  Alan backed the car out onto the road. 
“Now, this is a man’s session.  Please try not to talk about feelings, okay? 
This means you, Tim.”

“Up yours.  I don’t do feelings.”

“Yeah, you do.”  Marty smirked. 
“Cindy’s softened you up.”

“I’m a man. Men don’t soften.” 
Tim pointed to his t-shirt.  “See this?  This is a man’s shirt.  Men wear this
shirt.”

The t-shirt had had a picture of a
dog on it with a set of over-sized balls and a massive set of biceps.  The
caption underneath read
All Balls, Brawn & Bite
.

“That’s a shirt a man trying to
prove something would wear,” Alan said.  “Now, I have nothing to prove, which
is why I dress in more mature, plain t-shirts.”

“You’re wearing a tank top,” Sam
pointed out.  “I bet that’s to try and make your miniscule muscles show.  
Tyring to impress someone?”

“I have Sophie. I impress her.  A
lot.  All the time.”

“Really?” Marty queried.  “Because
I read a bit of her latest book last night.  If she was being satisfied, why
would she write that stuff?”

“Because she chooses to share her
findings with you clueless bastards.”

“Have you really read it?” Tim
queried.

“Read it?”  Alan leered.  “I
helped her research it.  The juicy bits, if you get my drift.”

“Cousin,” Sam reminded him.

“Look, don’t get all shy about
sex, Sam.  Your cousin and I do it.  A lot. 
All the time
.”

Tim snickered at Sam’s grimace.

“Man,” Tim said, “Marty doesn’t
get in knots when I mention sex and his sister in the same sentence.”

“I just vomited in my mouth a
little.”  Marty looked pained.  “Stop right there or you’ll be all ball-less,
brawn-less and bite-less.”

“You can’t take brawn from a man’s
man.”

“You have to have the brawn
first.”

“I have brawn.”  Tim flexed his
arm.  “See?  Muscle.”

“What, your brain slid under your
skin to your arm?  Stop embarrassing yourself.”

Alan pulled into the gym’s car
park.  “Everyone out.  You’re cramping my style.”

“You have to have style first,”
Sam said.

“And you’re the first one to be
walking home.”

“I’ll tell Sophie.  She’ll make
you sleep on the sofa for a month.”

“Sam, listen.  Sophie, sex, me,
Sophie, sex, me.  Me and Sophie having sex.”

“I need a bush.  I’m going to be
sick.”  Sam started for the door to the gym.  “Maybe we should take up boxing.”

Tim and Alan looked at each other,
looked at Sam and Marty, and shook their heads.