Hot in Here (7 page)

instances of past wet dreams involving Jenna.

He couldn’t imagine his life without Jenna in it. She had always been there, to talk to and hang with. He

liked just calling her up for no reason and chatting. He liked how they laughed at the same things. If he

couldn’t have that anymore, if he ruined the relationship by making it all awkward and heavy with sexual

shit, he didn’t know what he’d do.

But what about when she finds Mr. Right,the insistent voice in his head asked.How much do you think

he’s going to tolerate your phone calls and late-night visits? Probably about as well as he tolerated the

thought of Jenna wearing that skimpy nightie for another man—including Tyson.

God, he didn’t even want to go there. His emotions and thoughts were all over the map tonight and he

couldn’t understand why. What was it about Jenna today? What was it about her walk, the way her ass

moved, that had him wanting to risk their friendship by taking it into the bedroom? And what was it about

her that suddenly had him thinking how damn nice it would be to always have this, this closeness with

her?

The relationship word suddenly crept onto his radar and he panicked. Then, thank God, Jenna’s voice

squelched the thought before it could become a full-blown visual of a picket fence.

“Movie’s starting,” she called from the living room.

“I’m on it,” he answered back, not moving, just watching as she sat on the couch and crossed her legs.

They weren’t overly long, but man, they were shapely. The kind that would feel really good and soft

wrapped around him. The kind of shapely, womanly flesh he hadn’t felt in all his other girlfriends.

He heard the Psychedelic Furs singing “Pretty in Pink,” and he got his ass moving. Looking through the

cupboards, he found two bowls and a couple of spoons, and tore into the still-steaming dessert.

Inhaling the aroma, he savored it, hoping to hell she liked it. This was an untested concoction he’d just

created. And poor Jenna was the guinea pig.

Carrying the bowls, he hit the switch with his elbow, killing the light spilling from the kitchen. Candles

glowed on the coffee table, and the light from the television screen made it bright enough for them to see.

“Mmm, what’s this?” Jenna asked as she reached out for a bowl. “Smells delicious.”

“Just something I cooked up in honor of your twenty-eighth birthday.”

Jenna wrinkled her nose. “Let’s not talk numbers tonight.”

“Deal,” he said, settling back against the leather sofa. “As long as that also includes my numbers and that

plan of yours.”

“Absolutely.”

“God, it’s been forever since I’ve seen this movie. Remember how you loved Blane?”

“Yeah,” she said, blushing.

“I never got that, why you found him so hot. His hair really looked terrible in that prom scene.”

Jenna laughed. “You always say that.”

“Well, it did.”

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“I’m sure you had the hots for Molly Ringwald. All the guys did.”

“I didn’t.”

“Oh, the blonde then, the one dancing around in her underwear?”

“Definitely not her. I liked Andie, actually. Not Molly. But the character of Andie.”

Jenna shot him a sideways glance. “She was an outcast and kind of quirky, don’t you think?”

“What’s wrong with quirky?”

“Nothing.” A strange expression flickered across her face before she picked up her spoon and motioned

to the bowl. “So, what do we have here?”

“Oh, just a little white chocolate and cream, and caramel-filled chocolate squares, with some egg bread I

had lying around. I suppose you’d call it chocolate-caramel bread pudding.”

“I love bread pudding. I haven’t had a pudding like this since I left home. Although I know my mom

never made anything this decadent.”

Bryce found himself grinning, filled with an absurd adolescent feeling of giddiness. He was always like this

when someone waxed on about his cooking. He was even more giddy, he realized, when that someone

was Jenna.

Jenna’s mom was a phenomenal cook, and Bryce knew that to wow Jenna was a difficult task. She was

clearly wowed now, though. She was closing her eyes, savoring the sweet smell wafting up from the

bowl.

She dug into the custard mixture with her spoon and was about to raise it to her mouth when he wrapped

his fingers around her wrist. “Wait.” She looked at him, and all of a sudden his heart did this weird

flopping thing.

“What?” she asked, her voice so soft and quiet and so very feminine.

“I . . .” He licked his lips and pressed closer to her. “I just wanted to say happy birthday.” He bent to

kiss her cheek, something he’d done numerous times in their friendship. But he couldn’t bring himself to

do it. Instead, he cupped her cheek and brought her forward, dragging his mouth against the curve of her

ear and down lower to her jaw. God, she smelled good. And she felt good, so soft against his hand and

mouth.

“Happy birthday,” he said once more, kissing the corner of her mouth; then he pulled away, horrified by

his actions and wondering what she was going to say.

But true to Jenna form, she saved his ego by not making a big deal out of his lost control. Instead she

smiled and pointed at the bowl with the tip of her spoon. “So what do you call this?”

“It needs a name. If it’s any good, that is.”

She smiled and raised a spoonful to her lips. Catching his gaze, she slid a bit of the steaming pudding into

her mouth. With a groan, she closed her eyes. “Good? Bryce, this is awesome. This is . . .” She blushed

and looked away.

He put his bowl down on the coffee table and cupped her cheek. “Tell me what you were gonna say.”

She wouldn’t meet his gaze. Bryce saw some struggle waged in her eyes before she lifted her lashes and

looked fully at him.

“This is so good, it could be sex on a plate.”

His heart went into overdrive. Pressing closer, Bryce watched her take another bite. “Yeah?” he asked,

his voice curiously hoarse.

“Yeah,” she replied in a rush of breath.

Her breasts pushed against the pink satin, her nipples pressing against the bodice. He watched as a lace

strap slid down her shoulder. He reached out, hooking his finger beneath it, knowing he should slide it

back onto her shoulder, but wanting to lower it, wanting to expose her breast—needingto feel all that soft

flesh in his hand.

Her breath seemed to hitch, and so did his. What was he doing? Hell, what was she thinking, looking up

at him like that?

“Do you want a bite?” she asked, her voice a little shy and tremulous.

He swallowed—hard. His fingers were still beneath the strap of her chemise, still frozen, immobilized

against her soft skin. They started to move then, to brush the soft downy skin of her upper arm. His body

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heated as he felt the first flush of her goose bumps erupt beneath his fingertips.

“I want to watch you eat,” he said, feeling his erection harden even more.

She took another bite, which was laden with chocolate and caramel. He watched, his mouth dry as she

spooned the delicacy into her mouth and closed her eyes in blissful surrender.

What would it be like to experience that sweetness as it coated her lips, her tongue? What would it be

like to feed her and have her feed him, to taste that warm liquid chocolate as it dribbled its way over her

breasts and belly?

Like a voyeur, he watched her eat, conscious of the way his body hardened and his lips parted as if he

were eating each and every bite with her.

He wanted her spread on the table like a meal for him to devour at his leisure. He saw himself seated,

Jenna spread atop the table, his tongue licking away the sweet rivers of chocolate as she moaned and

begged him toeat other, more pleasurable parts of her body.

Her gaze locked with his, and she held out the silver spoon, which was overflowing with custard and

chocolate. Unblinkingly, he sat forward and wrapped his fingers around her wrist. He put the dessert into

his mouth, and didn’t taste the rich chocolate or the sweet caramel—the only taste he had was that of

desire. The sweet, heady elixir was swimming in his mouth.

“Well?” she asked.

This time, he heard the breathless pant of desire in her voice, saw the flicker of awakening in her eyes.

He swallowed slowly, then holding her gaze, he brought his mouth to hers until his lips brushed her lower

one.

“Taste me, Jenna.”

Four

Slowly her tongue crept out, snaking along his lips, before darting away again. Bryce decided he couldn’t

wait after that. So he reached for her and kissed her: a warm openmouthed kiss, sinking his tongue

inside, swirling it around, covering her with a kaleidoscope of flavors.

“Tell me what you taste.”

“Creamy caramel and sweet bread. Rich chocolate. Man,” she purred as his tongue swept across her

lower lip. “Sin,” she breathed rag gedly as he lowered the strap of her chemise to reveal the crest of her

breast.

“Bryce, isn’t this . . . I mean, this is forbidden, right? Between friends?”

“Forbidden fruit is the best kind. And, Jenna, you’re proving to be the most luscious fruit I’ve ever run

across in my life.”

Gently he tugged the bodice down over her breast. He cupped her in his palm, lifting her breast up to the

candlelight, studying the golden glow of her skin in the light, the way the nipple darkened and budded

even tighter for him. Lowering his head, he brushed his lips against the pebbled nipple.

Succulent. Luscious. There weren’t enough words to describe how enticing Jenna was to his eyes.

“What do you taste, Bryce?” The shyness in her voice made him look up. She was shrinking away from

him and his touch. But mixed with the shyness was desire.

She wanted this. Wanted it every bit as much as he did. He just needed to bring her back, bring her to

that place where she wasn’t afraid of what she was feeling.

“What do I taste?” he asked, taking the bowl from her. “I’m not sure. Let me try another bite.”

Placing the bowl on the table alongside his, he put his finger in the pudding and brought it to her breast,

covering her nipple with it. Then he cupped her and lowered his mouth to the chocolate-covered nipple

that was making him salivate.

“Bryce?” she asked, as he hesitated above her.

“Just savoring, babe. Just taking it all in like a connoisseur should.”

She relaxed against him. Finally he gave in and licked her nipple, taking the chocolate off in one thorough

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swoop of his tongue.

She gasped and arched beneath him, brushing her lower body against his. He pushed back, making her

feel his cock. Her little moan, and the way her body seemed designed to cradle him, excited him. Damn,

she was made right. Made perfectly for the kind of sex he wanted.

Bryce reached for the hem of her chemise and Jenna felt her body melt. She should really not be doing

this. Knew that there would be embarrassing regrets tomorrow morning, not to mention the destruction of

her plan.

How was she supposed to tell her body to shut down, to stop feeling the delicate touch of Bryce’s

hands, to stop wanting to be filled with the massive cock he kept brushing against the apex of her thighs?

She was soaked. Her arousal had seeped onto the fly of Bryce’s jeans. He knew how wet she was. He

no doubt felt it—that was why he was pressing against her more insistently.

She could lie, could tell herself all sorts of things about why she shouldn’t be doing this. But one thing she

couldn’t do was make her body reject Bryce. Her body wanted his so much, so badly, that her hips

started slowly undulating, rising up to meet his denim-covered groin as they began to grind into each

other.

“You’re so hot, baby,” Bryce said to her as she felt the lace hem slide up over her thighs. That voice, and

those sexy words, made her drenched in one flush. And he knew, because he slowly circled her with the

tip of his erection, soaking up her wetness with the front of his jeans.

“How hot do you want to get, Jenna?”

She couldn’t answer. She just gulped as she felt his hands brush the undersides of her breasts as the

chemise rode up over her chest.

“How hot in here do you want it to be?”