Authors: Susan Fox
Body Heat (26 page)
She was sprawled across his T-shirt and jacket, so he sank down on the grass beside her, feeling its soft tickle against his bare skin.
When he leaned over to kiss her, her hands gripped his shoulders and moved down his back.
He slid his body over hers, taking his weight on his knees yet letting their bodies touch. His chest to her breasts, his belly to her soft, flat tummy. Her hands continued their journey and reached his buttocks, squeezing and pressing him close. Her hips rose, grinding that lacy triangle against him, and he thrust against her, unable to stop himself.
“Wouldn’t it be better . . .” She murmured something he didn’t catch.
“Hmm?”
“Could we take off our . . .”
Thank God. He rolled off her quickly, yanked off his underwear, then eased hers down her legs. He wanted to stare spellbound at the beauty he’d just revealed, but his body was demanding action. Very, very soon. He grabbed at his jeans, fumbled his wallet out of his pocket, and found a condom. His hands were shaking so badly he could barely get the damned thing on.
When he did, he again covered her body with his. She raised her knees, cradling him between them. Her eyes, dazzling in the moonlight, gazed straight into his.
And suddenly, despite the urgent need in his body, the world stopped spinning and stood still. “Maura,” he breathed.
Her smile was the loveliest thing he’d ever seen. “Jesse.”
It could have been seconds, minutes, even hours that they stared straight into each other’s eyes. He had the strangest feeling of connection, like nothing he’d ever experienced before. He’d fantasized plenty about Maura Mahoney, but tonight was a whole different thing.
He had to join with her, couldn’t stay separate from her any longer. Reaching between their bodies, he touched her with his fingers, stroking, circling, making sure she was ready.
She wriggled against him, making those sexy little moaning sounds. “Please, I need you.”
He parted those damp silky folds, then eased the tip of his dick inside her. She was hot, tight, and he was scared he was going to hurt her. Then she did two things, at once. She squeezed his buttocks just as she thrust upward, encompassing him.
His body went crazy on him. He pumped into her like a madman, and damned if she didn’t grab his butt even tighter. He’d only managed four or five strokes when he knew the dam was going to break. Fortunately, he heard her cry his name, felt her body spasm around him. “Jesus, Maura,” he cried as he thrust one final time, letting everything pour through him and into her. He couldn’t stop pumping, but each successive thrust was weaker until finally he collapsed on top of her.
Her tummy fluttered under him; her breasts pushed up as she took deep breaths.
His head was crammed into the space between her neck and shoulder, where he inhaled gardenia and something even more sultry and sexy. Maura’s arousal; her satisfaction.
Not wanting to crush her, he tried to take some weight on his knees, but they felt like jelly. He touched her skin with his tongue, tasting salt, pressing little kisses into her until he had the strength to lift his head and look at her face.
His moon goddess’s grin nearly split her face. He realized he was smiling the same way. “Wow, that was something,” he said.
“It’s not just your hands you’re good with, Mr. Blue.”
“Oh, man, I can do way better than that. I acted like a high school kid.”
“You mean you can last longer than three seconds?” she teased.
“That sounds like a challenge.” He touched her lips gently with his. “God, but you’re hot. And sweet.”
Except, Maura didn’t feel hot. Cold was seeping into her bones. She moved away from Jesse, sitting up and wrapping her arms around herself, suddenly self-conscious. This wasn’t how a sex fantasy was supposed to go. Shouldn’t the scene shift, and magically they’d be in a nice cozy bed, with rose petals strewn across the sheets and a crackling fire to warm her?
It had to be a fantasy, though. For perhaps the dozenth time she told herself that.
The real Maura Mahoney would never have wild sex with a man she’d known only a few days—a man who could cost her her job. And Jesse Blue wouldn’t look at the real Maura like she was the loveliest, most sexy woman in the world.
It couldn’t be real.
It had felt real, but so had last night’s gardenia pool dream.
Except, tonight had felt more real—as if the details she’d skimmed in novels, the ones she’d incorporated in previous fantasies, had come blazingly to life.
She’d read, once, that a person couldn’t know what the ocean was like from just reading about it and seeing pictures. They couldn’t understand until they’d waded in, felt waves caress and suck at their ankles, smelled that crisp, tangy scent, heard the roar of waves and the cry of gulls.
Tonight, for the first time, she understood sex: the physical sensations, so intense and exquisite; the incredible feeling of having her empty, needy, most intimate places filled by a man; the emotion of joining, sharing, merging; even the less romantic aspects like the chilly ground and watching Jesse strip off the used condom. She would never have fantasized that last detail.
Oh, my God. This was real!
Hurriedly, she grabbed up her shirt and pulled it on, not bothering with her bra.
Jesse sat up, too. “Maura?”
She ignored him until her fingers, clumsy with nerves, managed to get the buttons done up all the way. Once she was covered from shirt collar to the shirt tails tugged down to cover the tops of her thighs, she finally turned to him. “We shouldn’t have done this.”
Oh, God, they shouldn’t, for so many reasons. Why had she let this happen? She’d been totally irresponsible, wanting so badly to be with Jesse—to be wanted by Jesse—that she’d fooled herself into thinking this was a fantasy.
“What the hell?” He gaped up at her.
She scrambled to her feet, holding the tails of her shirt in place, and pointed to his T-shirt, crumpled in the grass where she’d been sitting. “Get dressed. Please.”
When he stood, she picked up her thong—disgustingly damp; no, this was no romantic, sensual fantasy—and, shuddering, tugged it on under her shirt, followed by her pants.
“What the hell’s gotten into you?” His voice was rough with frustration.
Cautiously, she glanced over her shoulder. Then, seeing that he was dressed, she turned around. Oh, my, he was so handsome, his long black hair rumpled, his T-shirt creased, and those old jeans clinging to his muscular legs.
She’d had sex with him for real? He’d wanted to take her for a bike ride, wanted to make love—no, she corrected herself—have sex with her?
“Jesse, I got carried away, and it was wrong. You see, I’ve been having some fantasies and dreams, and—”
“When you go into those little trances.”
Feeling foolish, she nodded. “And when I’m asleep.”
“Me, too,” he said. “I’ve had them, too.”
“About us?” Her voice squeaked in disbelief. “You and me?” She was hardly the stuff of fantasies.
He nodded. “Since I first saw you.”
“Me?” she asked again. Pleasure and pride warmed her.
“Figured it’d never work out with us, but tonight I realized I was wrong.”
His words sank in and she pressed her hands to her cheeks. “No! No, you were right.” Sex between them was wrong. Very wrong. She took a step back, tripping over his jacket. She’d have fallen if Jesse hadn’t caught her arm to steady her.
But his touch didn’t steady her. It made her want him, but wanting him was stupid. She stepped away again, this time more careful about her footing. “Tonight, I fooled myself into thinking this was just another fantasy. But it’s real, and it’s wrong.”
Scowling, he said, “Jesus, we already went through this. You said your personal life was your own business.”
She had said something like that, before they left Cherry Lane. “I was talking about a bike ride. Just a harmless ride. Not sex!”
“What’s the difference?”
Aagh
. For him, clearly there wasn’t one. For her, sex was special. She’d only ever made love with two men before, and then after they’d dated for months and months. Sex was intimacy; it meant a relationship; it was—well, obviously, a totally different thing for her than it was for him. He’d probably been to bed with dozens of women.
. For him, clearly there wasn’t one. For her, sex was special. She’d only ever made love with two men before, and then after they’d dated for months and months. Sex was intimacy; it meant a relationship; it was—well, obviously, a totally different thing for her than it was for him. He’d probably been to bed with dozens of women.
It was one of the many, many differences between them. Insurmountable ones.
And even if all of that wasn’t true, one cold, hard fact remained: she was his supervisor. She could lose her job over what to him was a quickie fling.
“Maura, don’t make such a big deal out of it.”
She realized she was shaking her head, back and forth, like she was trying to deny that this had ever happened.
Except, no, upset as she was, she couldn’t totally regret it. Couldn’t regret feeling his caresses, experiencing the kind of sex she’d never even imagined.
Finally, she managed to stop shaking her head and regain control. Chin up, she stared at him. “You’re right. It was one night. No big deal. But no one can find out.”
He rolled his eyes.
“I mean it! My job’s at stake, and your community service.” Sleeping with his supervisor, even if it was consensual, surely could get him into big trouble. Didn’t he realize that?
“Yeah, fine,” he said coolly. “Whatever.”
“We have to go back. I’m cold and I want to go home.” Actually, she wanted to be home now, cozy and safe in her own warm bed. She hated the thought of retracing the starlit journey that had, at the time, seemed so sexy and exciting. Now, all she could think of was how cold she was, and how wrong she’d been. She should have heeded the lesson she’d learned on prom night a dozen years ago: letting down her hair could get her in serious trouble.
Jesse picked his jacket off the grass and handed it to her. This time he didn’t offer to help her put it on.
Before, she’d been thrilled to snuggle up inside his leather, but now she’d almost rather freeze. That would be foolish, and she’d been foolish enough tonight. Briskly, she pulled it on, slid her feet into her shoes, and began to walk toward the road.
Jesse’s hand caught her elbow.
She jerked away. “I can manage on my own.”
“Road’s that way.” He pointed in the opposite direction.
Wordlessly, she turned and again began to walk.
He paced beside her with his long-legged stride and watched silently as she struggled over the fence, this time not offering his hand.
She waited while he pulled the Harley from its hiding place.
He pulled something from his jeans pocket and handed it to her. “Might want that.”
Her bra, crumpled into a little ball, still retaining the heat of his body. She thrust it deep into her pants pocket.
When he climbed onto the bike, she reluctantly got on behind him. This time, when she put her arms around him, she couldn’t enjoy the warm solidity of his strong body.
Tomorrow, he’d show up at Cherry Lane to do his work. He’d be there for weeks, months. Could they pretend this had never happened?
How could she ever look at him again without remembering the amazing feeling—physical and emotional—of joining with him?
Of course Jesse dreamed about her after he got home Tuesday, in between tossing and turning and trying to figure out what the fuck had gone wrong.
He couldn’t believe Maura regretted the sex—what woman in her right mind would regret two bone-shaking orgasms?—but after she’d let down her hair, she’d pinned it right back up.
Her and her stupid rules. In her book—the old one, not the one that put her on the back of his Harley—she figured that having sex could get them both in trouble. She said she’d be risking her job and that promotion he couldn’t figure out why she wanted, and he’d be risking his community service.
But hell, he wouldn’t slack off on his job because he was sleeping with his boss, and he knew Maura’d always take her duties seriously.
She was blowing the whole thing way out of proportion. And he was losing sleep, which was something he’d never done over a woman, except when Pollan was causing trouble for Consuela.
With Con and Pollan, Jesse’d found a solution and made it happen.
As for Maura, she was complicated and high maintenance. Normally, he’d walk away from a woman like that. When she’d blown him off last night, that was what he’d figured on doing.
The thing was, she was worth it. He wasn’t going to walk, and he wasn’t going to let her do it, either. Satisfied, he turned his pillow over to the cool side one more time, punched it into shape, and finally settled down to sleep.
The next day, Jesse worked his construction job in high gear, as if that could make the time pass more quickly. Then he whipped home to shower and change, and rode over to Cherry Lane.
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