Naughty Little Secret (3 page)

“I’m familiar with the concept of sex. I have two children.”

Noah grabbed the note. “I don’t think this guy is talking about some civilized little screw. He’s talking possession. Are you comfortable with being completely taken? If you’re uneasy, I’ll do what I can to stop him.”

The anger drained out of her. As always, nice. Polite, more or less.

She couldn’t look at him and say what was on the tip of her tongue. But it had to be said.

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“Look.” She sighed and stared at the half-closed box in her lap—not at him. “I’m a grown woman. I may not be twenty-five anymore and I may not be a professional cheerleader, but I still like to feel desired.”

Noah groaned. “Lauren—”

“Save the speech. I haven’t had any attention from a man in a lot of years, and it feels…nice. You’re right. This guy may be off kilter. He may demand more than I want to give sexually. If so, I know how to say no.

But I doubt I’ll get in over my head. For now, I’m going to enjoy the fact someone has noticed I’m female. Can we drop it now?”

“One more question, then I’ll shut up.” At her reluctant nod, he hesitated. She’d bet he was choosing his words with care. He often did.

In fact, he planned everything.

At least he was trying not to piss her off this time.

“I’ve known you a lot of years. Sometimes, you’re an impulsive woman.”

Hell, she could already hear him trying to talk her out of a fling with the mysterious lingerie-giving stranger. “The question, Noah?”

“You’ve had, what, two dates since your divorce? And now you’re contemplating something way beyond dinner and a movie with someone you’ve never even met. Do you think you should take it slower?”

That did it
! Her temper returned with a vengeance, spiking through her blood. She grabbed her purse, the gift box, and stood. “You’ve been counting my dates now like some older brother with a whacked-out daddy complex? It’s been two years. You don’t wait two weeks between one model and the next, but I need to go slow? Amazing.”

Before five or not, she was leaving. The humiliation of this conversation was just too much.

She turned away and marched toward the door.

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Noah restrained her by wrapping a hand around her elbow and drawing her closer. “You really want to wear red lace wisps for a guy you don’t even know. You want to allow a stranger to touch you? To fuck you?”

Lauren jerked away, determined not to notice how her arm burned where he touched her or the body heat rolling off him in knee-weakening waves. “I want to feel alive again. I’m ready to get on with my life now. I’m ready to touch and be touched—”

Tears tightened her throat and she couldn’t go on. God, she was baring her soul to a man who thought of her like a little sister. And until she’d spoken the words, Lauren hadn’t realized how much she ached to have someone hold her. Tonight.

“Lauren… Sugar, I’m sorry if I upset you.”

She shook her head, frowning to ward off more tears. “I’m fine. I just need to go.”

Slowly, with obvious reluctance, he released her. “Sure. Where are you off to?”

Sending a pained smile in his direction, she held up the box. “I’m going home, put this stuff on, and get on with the rest of my life. Maybe Mr. Mysterious will show up and put a smile on my face.”

Z Z Z

Cursing the dark shadows enshrouding the porch, Noah Reeves lifted the clay pot at his feet, now riot with a profusion of spring flowers that nearly made him sneeze—which would likely wake half the neighborhood. He managed to hold it in while he felt around the cold cement. Finally, his fingers latched onto metal. Just where it had always

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been… A grin broke out across his face as he grabbed the key and replaced the flowerpot.

After pocketing the key, Noah reached for the small black bag he’d set at his feet. He unzipped it slowly, silently. Barely restraining his impatience. Adrenaline crashed through his system as he extracted the leather gloves he’d packed, fished out the key again, and donned the gloves.

With leather-clad hands and a cock that wouldn’t stand down, he opened the door.

Dark. Silence. Toward the back of the house, he saw a gray light casting down the hall, first bright, then dim, before turning bright once more. The TV, he’d bet. Damn, it was one in the morning. He’d have to work around it.

Reaching into his bag again, Noah pulled out his black ski mask and pulled it over his head.
Showtime…

Palms sweating under his gloves and perspiration breaking out across his back, he crept down the hall toward the oddly flashing light.

Slowly. Quietly. Heart threatening to pound out of his chest, Noah gripped the handle of his bag, breath held, as he neared his destination.

He’d waited nearly ten years for this opportunity. Ten fucking years.

He’d plotted this night for the last two. Thought he’d die of impatience the last six months. And tonight…he could barely rein in his excitement or need. The urge to fuck, to claim, seized him. The now he’d been craving had finally arrived.

Noah reached the end of the hallway and peeked in. And nearly stopped breathing. She was here. Hopefully asleep. Alone.

All his.

Tip-toeing into the bedroom, Noah stared down at his fantasy, his future.

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For now, she lay on her side, one hand under her flushed cheek, her pale thighs tangled up in her covers. The rest of her…almost totally exposed. Skin. Inches and inches of blessedly bare limbs, torso, and shoulders. The only covering? A familiar red lace thong and matching camisole. As he’d known the first time he’d seen the garments, Lauren looked delicious in them.

That was exactly why he’d bought them. And sent them to her. Then stopped to watch her blush and squirm once she opened them. And he’d been so damn hard imagining her in them ever since.

It’s also why he played devil’s advocate with her when she received them…to make sure she wasn’t scared. To make sure she was ready—

really ready—to let go of the past and take a lover.

Persuading her he should be that someone was the trick.

Noah hated subterfuge. This James Bond crap of sneaking in her house, pretending to be someone else, and surprising her wasn’t his first choice. But he had to do something—fast.

Lauren had started dressing sexier at work. Last Wednesday, he’d nearly drooled on her—in between being mentally rushed by a thousand heady fantasies, all revolving around Lauren naked with her nails in his back while he pounded deep inside her. He’d had to look away to avoid jumping on her. Worse, he was pretty sure she’d worn the heart attack-inducing little skirt for Gary, the accounting twerp. Gary, who he wished had never been hired. Would she really go out with the guy? Sleep with him?

Not if Noah could help it. He’d waited ten years to have her. Gritted his teeth through two pregnancies and a rocky marriage to a guy who had never appreciated her as he should have. Tim wasn’t a total jerk, just self-absorbed. Lauren deserved more.

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Now, Noah was here to show her who he was, aside from having been Tim’s college pal. She had to experience him in a way not related to the past, having nothing to do with being her boss. To see how she could be with him and no ex-husbands, business meetings—or clothes—between them.

Once he had her sated…then they’d talk. He’d reveal himself. And hope like hell she could admit to the something sizzling between them.

He’d build on that. She knew he wasn’t a selfish workaholic like Tim, but she had to understand that he’d devote himself to her pleasure and happiness. She liked and respected him. They connected intellectually, shared plenty in common, such as a quirky sense of humor. But Lauren thought of him as her surrogate big brother/Tim’s Doberman. He had to change her opinion.

Starting tonight.

Blood whipped through his veins, lashed him with heat, as he stepped into the nearly quiet bedroom and made his way across the shadowy space. The sounds of canned sitcom laughter, with the volume turned very low, reached his ears.
Damn thing better not wake her
, he thought with a scowl.

She’d changed the furniture since Tim’s departure. Good. Even if the house was the same, for the girls’ sake, she’d replaced more intimate reminders of her marriage. In place of the Spartan mission style furniture they’d had before, Lauren had bought pieces that looked feminine, golden warm, and stylishly weathered. An intricate wrought-iron headboard made him smile.

All the curves and curls in that wrought-iron design would come in handy. Soon.

He reached her side, eased the bag onto the carpeted floor, and took a moment to contemplate the feast of female as he stared down into her

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peaceful face. Silvery tracks glistened on her cheek. Noah’s smile fell.

Had she been…crying?

He sank to his knees and looked closely. Yes, she had. The tears had fallen down her cheeks and dried as she’d drifted off. Even now, he could see her eyes were puffy, her nose a bit red.

The sight hit him like a battering ram to the gut. If the tears had anything to do with her girls or anything else she held dear, he’d hold her and help her find a way to make it better. If it had anything to do with Mr. Mysterious, as she put it, failing to put in an appearance…well, he’d soothe her ache—right now.

Noah fished a pair of velvet-lined cuffs from his bag and gently slipped one around Lauren’s sleep-lax wrist. He frowned in concentration, his heart pounding like a turbo-charged sledgehammer into his chest. The next wrist, still tucked under her cheek, would prove more of a challenge. He had to do it without waking her. He couldn’t risk her panicking, thinking she had a burglar or rapist, and possibly hurting herself.

While pondering the best way to move Lauren, she helped him out and rolled to her back.

He nearly swallowed his tongue. The red lace of the camisole hugged the curves of her breasts. The little velvet laces could barely contain her.

Soft, round flesh spilled over the cups, tempting him with the pounding need to get on top of her, get deep inside of her, make sure she knew she was his.

One thing at a time…
he reminded himself. Secure her, then fuck her.

Waiting wasn’t an option. He’d already done plenty of that.

Carefully, he reached for Lauren’s other wrist and brought it up to the waiting cuff he’d fed through one of the iron headboard’s curves. In response, she moaned, fidgeted, and pressed her thighs together. She

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wriggled her hips, then lifted them in his direction. Another moan, this one longer, lower, left her lush mouth. He started sweating again.

Shit!
Even in her sleep, the woman tested his control.

With a muted click, Noah secured Lauren’s wrist in the cuff. He released a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

Everything was going according to plan. Lauren was ready sexually. If her body was available, her heart couldn’t be far behind. Her kids were gone for the night. He’d had gifts delivered. Her curiosity—and hopefully more—was aroused. And now, he had her bound to the bed, ready for anything and everything he planned to give her. All according to schedule.

Tension squeezed his gut tight and engorged his cock even more as Noah tied a little black blindfold over her eyes and reached for the remote control. With the press of a button, the TV turned off, plunging the room into dark silence. Nearly ready, he pulled off his mask and gloves.

Perfect.

Gritting his teeth against the urge to rip off his clothes and get inside her now, Noah settled for leaning down and kissing his way from the swells of her breasts, up to her neck, then nibbling on her lobe.

God, she smelled good. Clean. Like female sprinkled in…vanilla and musk. Something so her. Something siren sexy but not artificial. Lauren was too real to wear a lot of perfume. But her natural scent alone was enough to make him grit his teeth against the zipper and black denim strangling his cock.

She stirred, shifted, moaned.

“That’s it,” he whispered. “Wake up.”

For an electric moment, she froze, now alert. Then she stiffened and lunged against the handcuffs.

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Noah touched a tender hand to the center of her chest, holding her in place. With his other hand, he caressed her shoulder.

When she opened her mouth to scream, he covered it and whispered into her ear, “I promised you naked skin and fantasies. Tonight. The whole night. Are you ready?”

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Lauren froze, the unfamiliar whisper echoing in her ears. The pounding of her heart almost drowned the sound out. Almost…but she could still hear him breathing. Hard.

As he leaned against her, she could tell that his breathing wasn’t the only thing hard.

Oh. My. God.
The stranger was in her house. In her bed. Suddenly, she was terrified. She tried to remember everything she’d ever read about serial killers and rapists. But she was blank, rushed by a dousing of cold panic.

Half his body lay over hers. Judging from the fact her feet tangled with his calves and his wide chest enveloped her in solid heat, he was built tall, at least six feet, and like a wall of iron. While he didn’t exactly pin her to the mattress, he made moving a challenge. Well, him and the handcuffs encircling her wrists.

She wasn’t going anywhere, and he was making sure she understood that without a single word.

Fresh fear zipped up her spine. Holy cow, Mr. Mysterious hadn’t failed to show up after all.

Be careful what you wish for…

Yeah, Lauren wished she’d thought in detail about the fact a stranger had vowed to strip her down and fill her up, rather than focusing simply on how nice it was to be noticed and wanted. This stranger had sneaked

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