Still Hot For You (3 page)

“Like they say. Good things come to those who wait.”

Ha! There was the Dylan she loved. “You were always cocky.”

“Not cocky. Convinced.”

“Ooh,” she snorted a laugh.

Dylan bent and picked up a shell. He tossed it across the sandy patch. “I see you're enjoying this.”

She forced him to look at her. “Aren't you?”

No response. He stretched his arms above his head and inhaled another deep breath of ocean air. “Feels good out here.”

Uh-uh. We're not done yet
. “I give you a lot of credit. Any other man—”

“I'm not
any other
man,” he cut her off.

Without thinking, she stroked his face. His skin felt warm, a little rough, just how she liked it. God. She couldn't remember the last time she'd touched him. “You're definitely different.”

“But I'm not gay.”

She laughed out loud. “I know. But teasing you is so much fun.”

“Yeah, well, you were always good at that.”

Dylan stared at the dark, still sea. He picked up another shell and flung it into the air. The water splashed when it hit. He tossed several more shells, aiming them farther out.

* * * *

First last night. Now this. Dylan wasn't sure what to think. But Shay was playing nice. And he welcomed it. He'd had enough of being ignored and neglected. She'd punished him hard. He'd held his ground because he really believed they weren't ready for a baby. That conviction had cost him dearly, though.

What the fuck had come over her? It's not like they hadn't discussed kids. They had. And they'd agreed to wait. Life had been zipping along nicely. Shay had her banking career. His budding contracting firm was making a name for itself. They worked hard. Maybe they didn't play as hard. Still, things were pretty good. Or so he'd thought.

He wasn't about to question the truce. Looking at her now, he only wanted to think about red lace. Maybe he acted casual, but his stomach still burned for her, a cramp so acute it hurt. He'd only ever loved one woman, one little spitfire who heated his world. Shay. His match, his equal. She went toe-to-toe with him every time. Her fight, that passion she unleashed, drove him mad.

Right now he didn't care who called the shots. He'd let her play this game her way, at least for a little while. Shit. He'd served enough time in isolation. It felt liberating not to think about guilt.

How brilliant. The motorcycle ride was medicine for his ills. He should've been riding every night, instead of hiding at work, avoiding his problems, rejecting his wife. No dodging her now. Not that he wanted to. He missed his hardheaded woman, maybe because everything else was so soft. Her heart. Her curves. Her hands and the way she used them.

He curiously eyed her. Damn, he didn't want to start trouble, but he needed to know. “Why the sudden change?”

Shay's chin rose. Her forehead crinkled. “Honestly,” she said, toeing her boot in the sand. “I'm tired of being angry.”

“Good.” He relaxed his face. Maybe he'd still get laid tonight, which he really, really wanted.

“Besides, we needed a change of scenery.”

“Amen,” he said. “I'm sick of work.” Not literally, of course.

“You've been at it day and night.”

“I know,” he said.

“All work and no play...”

Vanilla-scented shampoo teased his nostrils every time the wind blew. Beauty, brains, class and sass, that was his Shay. Her erotic aura summoned his full attention. His fingers itched to tug that shiny mane. He shoved his hands hard into his front pockets. “Makes Dylan a dull boy.” His grin came slow. “Yeah. I know.”

Shay stood face-to-face with him. Leather to leather, chest to breast, they stared each other down. “Dull is one word I'd never use.” She pressed herself against him.

“No?” He kept perfectly still. His stiff erection, on the other hand...

She took in the bulge of his pants and flashed a killer grin. “I can show you how dull
you're not
.”

Somebody seemed to be having too much fun at his expense. “Yeah?”

“Come by my place tomorrow night.” She opened her palm on the soft cotton of his shirt, right over his thumping heart.

He laughed at his wife.
Her
place was
his
place. “Why not tonight?”

Brown eyes simmered. Her lips parted. She touched her fingers to his jacket, played with a buckle. “Like you said.” She stood on tiptoes and placed a tender kiss near his lips. “Good things come to those who wait.”

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Chapter 3

Food and Champagne. Wanna slow dance?

His wife had busted out the heavy artillery. Her red satin dress. Oh, baby. That puppy worked like a charm. It fit Shay like a second skin, shimmering over her lush curves. The open back, cut down to her slender waist accentuated hips and behind, his two favorite body parts. When she turned around, her perky breasts puckered the swathing fabric at her chest.

“
Damn
,” Dylan said from the foyer. He strolled into the media room where she posed, and set his laptop on the table. He blinked once. Twice. He couldn't believe how gorgeous his wife looked. Her hair sat neatly piled on top of her head. She wore his favorite red dress with stilettos. Last night had been a surprise. Tonight ... Jesus, Shay was on fire.

“I left as early as I could. Chris kept blocking my way.” His eyes drank in every inch of her. Blood pumped wild with pent-up heat and frustration. Beautiful Shay. Damn stubborn. Damn sexy. She'd put him through hell. But he still loved her to death. Always would.

“I'm sure your brother can handle whatever comes up.”

Only thing coming up was Dylan's erection. He nodded in agreement, though he knew Christian could be a bit of a hothead. “Forget about work,” he said. For months, business had totally consumed him. His brain needed a break. His body needed a good screw. “So where are you taking me tonight?”

Shay handed him a glass of sparkling champagne. Watching, she took a sip from her own. “Dancing,” she said, and licked a drop from her bottom lip.

He took the crystal flute from her outstretched hand. Sipping deeply, he stared right back. Lord, he wanted sex. He liked it every day, every way. And since he'd never, ever cheat on his wife—he had too much honor and integrity for that—Shay needed to give up that sweet booty. Tonight. “Did you pick out a place?”

“Yeah.” Her voice sounded low and throaty. With a cunning grin, she strolled to the living room, leaving him with a full view of bare back and endless feminine curves. She turned to look at him. “The party's over here.”

Shoving a hand through his hair, he followed her glorious ass. Candles flickered everywhere, dancing across the white marble tiles of his living room. A heavy wrought iron table stood adorned with Japanese delicacies, all displayed on twinkling crystal platters. Wall-to-wall sliding glass doors spread open, framing their wide patio and turquoise in-ground pool. Spotlights illuminated a spurting fountain that overflowed into the spa.

“There's a nice breeze tonight.” Shay lifted the remote control and clicked on a different tune. Sexy music filtered from surround-sound speakers. “Hungry?”

Oh, yeah. Dylan closed the space between them. He inhaled her hypnotic scent. Of course, she wore his favorite perfume. “When did you have time to do all this?”

She let out a laugh that directly affected his groin. “I had some help from Sushi Palace.”

* * * *

His face lit up. “I love that place.”

Like Shay didn't have his number. Baby, she was on a mission to get a little submission, and Dylan was falling right into her hands. Slow and easy. That's how it would be. It'd taken months to erect their wall. It wouldn't tumble with one night of hot sex.

Dylan played along. Shay could see he was guarded. She knew the feeling. They'd hurt each other. They also loved each other. At least she
hoped
he still did. No mistaking he still lusted for her. She missed that hungry look, the way his eyes turned dark and sinister when he wanted her.

Give her the strength to hold back from jumping his hunky bod. As much as she wanted to, she wouldn't. Instead, she helped herself to food and invited Dylan, who'd already prepared himself a huge plate, to sit down on the sofa beside her.

His eyes skimmed her legs. He sat and his knee lightly brushed against hers. That simple touch sent shockwaves through her system. To her delight, he kept his leg there, kept that electrical current flowing. The tiny spot on her knee ignited to a burn. Heat traveled up her leg and to her...

She swallowed a piece of California roll. And another, then downed the rest of her champagne, her body hissing inside. “How is it?”

“Great,” he mumbled around a mouthful. Working his chopsticks like a pro, he plucked sushi and specialty rolls and stuffed his handsome face. “More,” he grumbled like a caveman.

“Finish it off.”

Dylan went to refill his plate. He returned with another California roll for her. She loved California rolls. Not so much the raw fish. Yuck. But the rice rolls were heavenly. “I can't eat anymore.”

“Sure you can,” he said. “You usually eat me under the table.”

She looked up from her plate. And laughed.

He was so preoccupied with his food, it took him a second to catch on. Chewing slowly, he watched her animated face. “You have a dirty mind,” he said, narrowing his eyes on her.

Her cheeks flushed to petal pink. Yep. It was dirty. But then, they thought alike. “Sorry,” she said, biting back another laugh. “It sounded funny.”

“Funny?”

Her shoulders bounced, flirted. Always the same way with them—she'd start the game, he'd finish it. “Yeah.”

Dylan's lips curved upward. “Well, you
have
eaten me under the table.” He poked his food and let the comment hang in the air. “What? No snappy comeback?”

Shay polished off the rest of her meal. She licked her lips slowly, purposely. Rising to her feet, she intentionally let him look down her dress. “More champagne?” she asked, holding his steady gaze.

In strappy stilettos, she strode to the table, the tall heels emphasizing the sway of her hips. Swoosh. Swoosh. She could feel his eyes glued to her ass. Good. That's where she wanted them.

Dangling the champagne bottle by its neck, she sashayed back to him. She bent in front of him, and this time, gave him a lingering eyeful. “And you've eaten me
on top
of the table.” She filled his fluted glass.

Dylan laughed out loud. His drink nearly spilled on the sofa. “That's right, baby.”

She pressed her breasts together and tormented him more. “Done with that plate?”

“Don't change the subject,” he said.

She set the bottle on the custom coffee table. One drink before dinner and one after—she had a nice buzz going. Her insides felt bold, yet jittery. Bold because the alcohol and Dylan made her so damn hot. Jittery because for months they'd shared so little. She felt awkward. Estranged. But her body was tingly, awake, and utterly aware. If he so much as touched her, she'd probably cream her panties. That is, if she had put some on. “Dance with me.” She
told
, not asked.

A grin spread across his full lips, which were shapely, manly, tastier than any meal. He set his empty plate on the table and rose to his feet, brushing her torso in the process. “You changed the subject.”

His body so close, so hard, Shay's every cell stood at attention. She lifted her glass to her lips and paused. She didn't need more alcohol. Screw it! She downed it anyway. “I'm not changing the subject.” Her eyes went to his powder-blue button down, to the bulge in his tailored black slacks.

Dylan lifted the remote off the table and pointed it at the stereo.
Click.
A different tune came on. He clicked a few more times until a slower number played. “Let's dance,” he said, taking her glass from her grip.

She gave him her trembling hand. They touched and she realized he was nervous too. Her stilettos tapped against the marble tiles as they crossed the stately room. Scented candles of golden bamboo and night blooming jasmine permeated the air. And Dylan drew her a little closer.

Her pulse rate kicked up two quick notches. His warm breath feathered her face. Traces of morning soap and cologne lingered on his skin. It was a familiar smell, the scent of home and everything that spelled comfort. She'd always felt protected with him. Cherished and loved.

She leaned her tremulous body into his. Her hands tentatively pressed the fabric of his dress shirt. Barely moving, they watched each other, felt each other out. Dylan closed his arms around her waist. Gradually, the embrace grew stronger, tighter, less restrained.

The closeness of their ragged hearts triggered emotions deep within. Shay didn't want to ruin the moment and cry. She fought back the tears with everything she had. Lifting her chin, she stared into his tender eyes. She could see his pain ran equally deep.

Twining her arms around his neck, she opened herself up to him completely. His hands splayed over her bare back, tracing up and down her smooth skin. Dylan's face dug into her shoulder where he tenderly nuzzled a sensitive spot.

He felt so incredible. Smelled so Dylan. He moved his knee between hers, parting her legs. He crouched a little, and now she could feel his erection pulsing right there. Yes. He knew what she liked.

“You feel good.” His loose hips moved with the music. “Real good,” he said, and dropped his head to the tops of her breasts.

“I missed you,” she whispered, regretting the words as soon as they left her lips. An onslaught of tears threatened again. She wouldn't cry, damn it. She dug her face into his hair.

“I missed you more.” His groin drove into her. Wow. His words were true.

They really needed to talk. Later. Right now, she wanted to dance. He felt too good in her arms. The mood was light and she didn't want to ruin it by getting heavy on him. “What did you miss?”
Mmm.
Every man should smell like this.

He dragged his tongue across her shoulder blade. “I missed your taste.” He pressed butterfly kisses along her throat and fluttering pulse. Circling around her, he blew his hot breath on her back, then kissed a wet trail down her bare spine. His fingers streaked the length of her arms and his tongue flicked the back of her neck. “I missed your...” Dylan circled her body again, brushing his sculpted chest over her breasts. He bent and nuzzled a nipple.