Murphy's Law (15 page)

As the fury of the storm expanded, so did the chill in the air. Quinton turned on the heat, then stroked a finger down her bare arm.

She jumped, and gooseflesh rose in the wake of his touch. He could hear her breathing and smell her scent.

“What are you thinking, Ash?” Maybe talking would help her to relax.

“You. Sex.” She answered fast, then swallowed audibly. “How it'll go and what we'll do and how we get from the car to the bed and naked and all that.”

Jesus. He had a boner on her second word. The rest of it left him edgy and hot. And protective. “It can go however you want.”

“I don't know what I want.” She damn near shouted that concern. Unsettled and panicky, she coiled toward him. “That's just it. I don't like not knowing.”

Quinton slowed the car to accommodate the weather. Keeping his gaze on the road, he made a magnanimous offer—considering he'd never wanted anything as much as he wanted her just then. “We don't have to do this, honey. If you'd rather wait—”

“Are you nuts?”

“Uh…no.” Now she appeared ready to smack him.

She leaned closer and nodded toward his lap. “You're hard.” Her tone dared him to deny it. “I know you want me.”

Crazy Ashley. He shook his head, glanced at her, and smiled. Endearing, adorable,
sexy
Ashley. “Of course I want you.”

“Then instead of trying to back out, why not just tell me what to expect?”

“I was not trying to back out.” He flexed his fingers on the steering wheel. “It's just that there's no set pattern.” She stared at him, all ears, eager to learn. He wasn't an idiot, so he wouldn't explain that it was different with every woman. Far as he was concerned, at that moment, no other women existed. “A lot will depend on you.”

“Oh, great.” She flopped back in her seat. “So if it all goes to hell in a handbasket, I'm to blame?”

Humor worked its way through his blinding lust. “No, honey, trust me. If things aren't right, it'll be my fault. And that's possible, because I want you so much right now, I might not be able to wait as long as I should.”

“I don't want to wait.” She sounded defiant and insistent. “Far as I'm concerned, tonight's the night.”

“Glad to hear it, but that's not what I meant.” He should start compiling all the weird conversations he had with Ashley Miles. Maybe when they were fifty, they could pull them out and laugh.

Then again, what made him think he'd even know her that many years from now?

He shook his head, glad for the storm that required his attention and kept him from having to look at her through this bizarre topic.

Trying to be pragmatic instead of seductive, he explained, “Women react differently than men.”

“Liberated women would disagree.”

So she wanted him to spell it out? Fine. “Right now, you could make me come with little effort.”

She went still, then perked up in interest. “Really? How?”

Apparently, Ashley harbored some insane notion that he could comfortably discuss this when, to him, it felt like prolonged foreplay—making it far from comfortable. “Just being near you, smelling you, puts me more than halfway there.”

“
Smelling
me?”

God help him. At her tone of affront, his smile went crooked. “You smell nice. Like a woman should.”

Cautiously, she dipped her nose near her shoulder and sniffed. “I think you're nuts.”

“No, I'm a man.” He shifted his position, hoping to ease the restriction in his pants. “A few strokes with your hand, one thrust inside you, and I'd be a goner.”

She said not a single word, but her rapt attention nearly made his muscles cramp. He could almost hear the wheels turning in her head, knew she was visualizing what he'd said, and that she'd love to see him lose control.

It was in Ashley's nature to push things, to be the aggressor—which was probably why she worried now. She didn't want to be out of control, with no idea of how things would progress.

“Climaxing is not so easy for women.”

His plain speaking caused her to stiffen, but she kept her attention glued to him.

“They require more attention than men. And since I want you to enjoy yourself as much as possible, I'll need to take my time.”

“I don't want to be a burden, Murphy.”

So prickly. He shook his head and smiled. “Kissing you, touching you and tasting you, making love to you, will never be a hardship. Foreplay, yes. Torment, you bet. But that's part of what makes it so sweet.”

“Sweet, huh?” She folded her arms beneath her breasts and gave her attention to the darkening sky. “It doesn't look sweet. I mean in movies and stuff. It looks sweaty and hot and…”

“Fun?”

She rolled a shoulder. “I guess.”

Even in the shadows of the car, Quinton could see the flush of heat coloring her skin. “In a few more minutes we'll be at my place. I'll park in the garage, and we'll enter through the kitchen. Not a bad place for making love, but this first time for you, I think, should be in my bedroom. Don't you?”

“I'm not picky.”

But she was a temptress without even trying. “Are you hungry?”

She gave him a look filled with incredulity.

“Good. Then we'll skip that and go straight to my bedroom. Once we're there, I'll close the door and kiss you.”

“And then?”

Nothing showed on his face, but he smiled to himself, knowing he had her. “I'll go on kissing you until you want more. Not just your mouth, but your throat and your ears and your shoulders.”

“Then we get naked?”

God, she could take the upper hand so easily. “If that's what you want.”

“I'd like to see you naked.”

He damn near wrecked the car. “Not a problem. I'll be happy to oblige.”

“No modesty?”

“Not a speck, sorry.”

“You look that good?”

Jesus. He turned the heat off and even considered opening a window. “I have no idea if you'll think so, but I'm not dissatisfied with myself. What about you?”

She shrugged. “I'm lacking in the upper works, but you don't seem to mind. Other than that, I'm okay.”

Better than okay. She made him salivate.

“I'm in shape and trim,” she added. “My legs are kind of long. So no, I won't mind losing the dress. I'm not real comfortable in it anyway. And I'll be thrilled to get rid of the stupid bra. It's suffocating. I'm not used to it.”

“Comfortable or not, you look incredible. You always look good. Sexy and casual at the same time.”

She shifted and somehow, even though she still wore her seat belt, she was closer to him. “The whole sex thing is more spontaneous in the movies. Not so orchestrated.”

“They just make it look that way.”

“No wild abandon or evaporating clothes?” she teased.

“Responsible men behave responsibly. They don't risk a woman's reputation through indiscretion. They don't risk her future by forgoing protection.”

“Rubbers?”

“Exactly. No child deserves to be brought into the world by accident, maybe unloved or unwanted.” As she had been. Never would he do that to a child.

“Not all accidental births are unwanted. Some are happy surprises.”

“Too many aren't. There are enough abandoned children awaiting love and attention already.”

Her brows knitted in confusion and curiosity. Damn, but he'd sounded too fervent. Much more of that and he'd be giving himself away.

“So you've never lost your head with a woman?”

More moderate, he stated, “I've never been so overcome with lust that I couldn't think clearly about consequences. I've made mistakes. I'm human. But lust wasn't the cause.”

Sounding less than reassured, she said, “Hmmm.”

He looked at her and caught her staring at his tie in deep contemplation. “Once we've ensured privacy and taken care of birth control, feel free to be as abandoned as you want.”

She gave him a sweet smile that should have warned him. “Thanks. And ya know, I think we should start the undressing right now.”

He laughed. “If you show any more, I'll wreck the car.”

“We can't have that.” She slid her fingers around his tie and pulled it loose. “Aren't you choking in this shirt?” Under her deft fingers, one button opened, then another and another…Her hand, soft and curious, slid inside his shirt to rub over his left pectoral muscle. Her delicate fingers felt cool against his heated skin.

“I don't know if this is a good idea.”

She paid no mind to his warning. In a whisper, she asked, “Are you this hairy all over?”

Quinton shook his head, but it was more a loss of voice than an answer. Her fingertips grazed his left nipple, and he thought he'd split his pants.

Thank God, the lighted entry to his circular drive came into view. “We're here.”

His announcement stilled her sensual exploration. “Where?”

“My home.”

Her hands slid off him and she craned her head to see, then gave a soft, “Ohhh. Very nice. How big is it?”

At the indelicate query, Quinton regained some aplomb. Leave it to Ashley to ask what others wouldn't. “Around seven thousand square feet, give or take. Probably smaller than Jude's home, if that's what you're wondering.”

“Ah well, you're not a movie star.” She patted his chest, then settled back in her own seat, looking all around as he drove up the drive. “I promise not to hold it against you.”

Her facetiousness, especially given that her dark eyes were wide with fascination, gave him a smile. “Thank you.”

“It's really nice. Different. I'm not familiar with the style, though.”

“It's called Tuscan, but I bought it for the acreage, not so much the design of the house. I like my privacy.”

“Jude likes water. And bathrooms. I swear I could live in one of his bathrooms, they're so posh.”

He and Jude had that in common, then. But rather than tell her so, he'd like to show her his newest toy in the bathroom—a spigot in the ceiling that filled the tub with the effect of a waterfall. He'd thought many times what a nice accompaniment his playground-sized tub, with subtle lighting and an invisible sound system, would be to romance. Until now, he hadn't brought a woman to his home to test that theory. He had a feeling Ashley would enjoy it as much as he did.

With the push of a button, one of four garage doors opened and Quinton drove inside.

“God,” she whispered, her nose practically glued to the door window. “It's like a giant cave.”

“The entire house has very high ceilings.” He put the car in park and turned off the engine. “My security isn't quite as technical as Jude's. I don't have monitors in every room. But a highly recommended and reliable private company installed and runs the alarm system and specialty locks. It'll serve its purpose. I don't want you to worry.”

Sparing him an impatient peek, she unhooked her seat belt. “Trust me. Elton and his idiotic revenge is the last thing on my mind right now.” She had her door open before he could get out and do the gentlemanly deed for her. “Now get a move on, Murphy. Time's a-wasting.”

Ashley got as far as the kitchen and stalled. Not as big as Jude's? Somehow she doubted that. From what she could see, Quinton's home was immense, going on forever in all directions. He had an open, sprawling floor plan and mile-high ceilings. Marble floors gleamed, and leaded glass doors and windows sparkled with raindrops.

Looking around at a mammoth kitchen with a breakfast area and sunroom, across to a formal dining room with fluted columns, and finally toward a two-story foyer, she whistled in wonder. If it weren't for Jude and getting comfortable in his house, she'd be pretty damned intimidated right now.

“Rich people amaze me.” She eyed the unique reverse tray ceiling over the polished mahogany dining table. “I had no idea there were so many ways to spend money.”

“I didn't build the house, Ash.”

Turning to Quinton, she said, “No, but you…”

Whatever thoughts she'd had dwindled into nothingness at the sight of him. He'd pulled his tie free and slipped off his suit coat. With his unbuttoned and untucked dress shirt, she got a great view of his chest, and man, oh man, he had a fine chest indeed.

Warmth blossomed out from her belly to her limbs and settled low, making her lock her legs together. She whistled again, this time at him. “Just hairy enough,” she said in answer to her earlier question.

“I reset the alarms.” The awareness in his fascinating eyes intensified while the corners of his mouth lifted. Her appreciation of his body pleased him. “This way.”

He indicated she should precede him down the hall, and like a zombie, she did so. The touch of his hand burned on the small of her back as he silently guided her past the foyer and through a private vestibule to a lavish master bedroom. The room was bigger than her whole apartment.

Tiered, vaulted ceilings held small windows to let in moonlight. Oriental rugs warmed a porcelain tile floor. Dark mahogany bedroom furniture, a stuffed couch and two chairs, a gas fireplace, and floor-to-ceiling windows complemented the size of the room. Opposite the bed, glass doors led to an enclosed porch.

“Do you like it?”

“It's…I've never seen anything like it.” She started to look again at the tray ceiling complemented with roped and recessed lighting, but Quinton caught her shoulders, turned her toward him, and took her mouth.

It was a slow, gentle kiss, lingering and sweet and damp. She parted her lips and felt his tongue touch hers. Just that, nothing more, but it shot her temperature up a couple of degrees. She slipped her arms around him, then spread her hands beneath his open shirt to relish the feel of him.

His skin was so warm and taut, his scent delicious. With every breath he took, she experienced the shifting of his muscles. So much leashed power. The thin material of her dress felt like less than air when she cuddled against him.

She breathed deeper just to inhale him. His hand cradled the back of her head and he deepened the kiss, slowly sinking his tongue past her teeth while drawing her body into complete contact with his. She went on tiptoe to help him, clutching his back, trying to get as close as possible.

The press of his thick erection between her thighs both startled and stirred her. Urgency thrummed through her veins. She'd never felt like this and she didn't want it to go away. It was too exciting, too molten and exhilarating.

She freed her mouth from his. In a broken rasp she barely recognized as her own, she whispered, “Let's get rid of some of our clothes.” She wanted to feel him everywhere. Right now.

Quinton stood there watching her in what appeared to be astonishment.

Was she moving too fast for him? Should she be more subtle? She looked at him, at his exposed chest, now-rumpled hair, and concentrated expression, and she didn't care about subtlety. He'd just have to deal with her eagerness. But as a concession, she said, “Don't worry. I can handle this part on my own.”

Lifting first one of his heavy wrists, then the other, she quickly opened his cuff links and went to a granite-topped nightstand to set them down. When she turned back around, Quinton still stood where she'd left him. His arms hung loose at his sides, his feet braced apart, his head slightly turned to watch her every move.

She felt like a kid in a candy store.

Hurrying back to him, she pushed the shirt off his shoulders and down his arms until it dropped to the floor. Then she just took her time looking at him.

He might not be a fighter like Jude, but he had an incredible physique, far different than she'd expected from a business exec. She knew he spent forty-plus hours at a desk, yet he looked like he spent an equal amount of time in physical exertion.

Instead of being bulky, lean muscles roped his shoulders, his pecs, and down his abdomen for an impressive six-pack. Dark blond chest hair drew her fingers, and she stroked over him, very aware of his stillness, the heightened anticipation in his every breath.

That enticing body hair trailed downward over his midsection, around his navel, then disappeared into his slacks. With one finger she traced that sexy line of hair to his belt. He inhaled sharply.

Anxious, she gripped his belt buckle—and he closed his hands over hers.

Lifting one fist to kiss her knuckles, he said, “This isn't a race, honey.”

How could he be so calm and controlled? “If it was, I'd sure as hell win.” The room hung heavy with growing shadows, brightened only by the occasional flash of lightning. “You got a light switch in here anywhere?”

Several seconds ticked by before a small sound of amusement escaped him. “Damn, but you please me, Ashley.”

“You look confused, not pleased.”

“Let's say pleasantly surprised.” He smiled at her. “So you want light?” He went back to the nightstand and turned on a lamp. It sent a gentle glow throughout the room, not intrusive, but illuminating so that she could better see him. “Good enough?”

She'd prefer him under a spotlight, where she could really check out his goods, but she didn't want to push her luck. “It'll do.”

He strode across the room to the window and with the press of a button, heavy curtains came together.

Ashley admired his broad back and the play of muscles in his shoulders. “Privacy?”

“There aren't any neighbors close by, but I don't like to take chances.” Now on the other side of the bed, he faced her—and reached for his belt. With deft fingers he opened the buckle, gave a tug, and it slid free of his slacks with a quiet hiss.

Her heart popped into her throat, then dropped fast and hard to her stomach. “I need to sit down for this.”

She slipped off her sandals, hiked her dress up to her thighs, and crawled up onto his massive bed to sit yoga-style. The plush, down-filled white comforter billowed around her.

With a steadying sigh, she folded her hands into her lap. “Okay, I'm ready. Go on.”

Even with her fascinated concentration, he wasn't the least bit discomfited or uncertain. He just looked sexy as hell.

He toed off first one shoe, then the other. “I've never deliberately stripped for a woman before.” Holding her gaze, he unzipped his slacks and pushed them down his hips. He bent to take them the rest of the way off and removed his socks at the same time.

When he straightened, he wore only snug black boxers that in no way concealed an impressive erection. He tossed the pants aside and stood there in a loose-limbed, in-control way, giving her plenty of time to look him over.

In a croak, she said, “You should do it more often. You'd make a fortune.”

“I already have a fortune.”

Ashley shook her head. He took her breath away. “Okay, damn, I wish I'd worn sexy underwear, too.”

His half smile didn't soften the lust in his face. He came to her on the bed, knelt in front of her, and with one finger, toyed with the strap of her gown. “Now you.”

“See, the thing is…” But she didn't really know what to say.

He stared at her while dragging the left strap down, down until the material drooped and he could play one finger across the top of her left breast, pushed up by the specialty bra.

She swallowed. “Never mind.”

He teased his finger across her tingling skin again, gently nudging the bra down, and her nipple popped free.

His smiled faded. His eyes darkened. With a sharp inhalation, he caught her under the arms and lifted her.

Startled, she said, “Hey, wait—
oh shit.”
His mouth latched onto her nipple and he sucked softly, and God Almighty, she felt it everywhere: the stroke of his tongue, the pull as he suckled, and the flash fire of heat…

To balance herself, she sank her fingers into his bare shoulders and dropped her head back.

How could that feel
so
good? If she'd known, she'd have figured out a way to try all this a lot sooner. “Quinton?”

Her shaky whisper got her lowered flat to the bed, but he didn't release her nipple. He used one hand to plump up her breast and continued to draw on her, running his tongue over and around her, nipping with his teeth, tugging and pulling.

She moaned and writhed, but that only seemed to encourage him. His hands started caressing everywhere, down her sides to her hips, along her thighs.

“The bra's in the way,” she complained.

He kissed his way up her chest to her throat and then to her mouth. His hand dipped into the bra cup and covered her breast. His thumb rolled over her now-wet nipple.

The press of his heavy body atop hers only exacerbated already sizzling nerves. She turned her head, gasping for air. “Oh God, wait.”

Panting, he levered himself up on stiffened arms, giving her some space. As he surveyed her body, he looked more out of it than in charge.

Ashley touched his jaw. “I want to get out of my bra and dress.”

His jaw locked. “Roll over.”

That sounded pretty coarse and somewhat unnerving. “Yeah, uh…why?”

His head dropped forward and he groaned. “Although it's not an altogether unpleasant idea, I'm not planning to attack you from the rear.”

“Quinton…”

“You have a zipper on the back of your dress. I prefer using it to ripping this thing off you like a barbarian.”

“Oh. Right. My zipper.” Feeling like an unschooled virgin idiot, Ashley rolled to her stomach and stacked her arms under her cheek. Then she waited. And waited some more.

Quinton didn't move, didn't make a sound.

After a few seconds she wiggled one foot. “Hello? You still awake, Murphy?”

His hand settled heavily on her bottom. “Then again,” he rasped, “the rear view of you is awfully tempting.”

Ashley deliberately wiggled. “Concentrate, Quinton. Zip-per.”

“In a minute.” His long fingers clasped her ankle.

Uh-oh. She froze in expectation, barely breathing as she waited to see what he planned to do.

His hand slid up her calf, then paused at her knee. Using just his fingertips, he stroked her there, trailing back and forth.

She stuck her face in the mattress and, trying not to be too blatant, opened her legs a little.

He took the hint and climbed his fingers higher again, along the inside of her thigh, up and up, until he slid over her satiny panties to cup her bottom. “You have a great ass, Ashley.”

Her muffled, “Thank you,” sounded absurd even to her own ears.

His thumb slid along the cleft of her bottom, not low enough to touch her where she really wanted to be touched, but enough to make her heart pound painfully. “Open your legs more.”

Oh, God. She swallowed, and still with her face pressed in the mattress, said, “The dress is too tight.”

“I'll help.” He shoved up the skirt until her bottom was uncovered. Material bunched around her waist, while cool air drifted over her skin. A little hoarse, Quinton said, “There you go.”

Right. Now he wanted her to…open her legs. She gulped—and parted her thighs.

Immediately, his hand slid over the crotch of her panties. In a seductive whisper, he said, “You're burning up, Ash.”

No kidding. To prompt him, she wiggled a little.

One finger dipped between her legs, sliding along the slippery material of her panties and shooting sensation all through her. She tightened her shoulders and held her breath, and still a moan escaped.

“I think,” he murmured, bending down to kiss her shoulder, “that virgins are more fun than I ever realized.”

Ashley drew a deep breath and rose up to her elbows. “Right now I'm more interested in putting that virgin status behind me.” She looked at him over her shoulder, and their gazes locked. “You wanna get on with it?”

His mouth quirked, but his eyes were molten. “No, actually I don't.” His fingers searched over her panties, prodding carefully, and then he was touching her in a place that electrified. “I'd rather watch you come first. And incredible as it seems, I think you're almost there.”