Personal Assets (Texas Nights) (10 page)

Cameron’s throat and cheekbones wore a dark flush. His gaze dropped from her face to the exposed skin above her halter’s neckline.

“See something you like?”

His hand traced a path connecting the freckles sprinkled across her breastbone. Her nipples tightened to the point of aching. “I like these. Do they meet the ones on your thighs somewhere in the middle? At the softball field, I wanted to use my tongue to play connect the dots. Clean up all that spilled grape juice.”

Her thigh muscles contracted as she pictured Cameron on his knees in front of her licking sticky syrup from her skin.

Now all those girly parts practically elbowed each other out of the way to be first in line for whatever attention he was willing to pay them.

Then, without warning, he pulled the string at the back of her halter, allowing the cups to drop against his chest, exposing Allie’s most insignificant feature.

* * *

Cameron had seen, kissed and caressed his share of breasts. And not one woman he’d been with had ever been happy with the set God gave them. One woman he’d dated had pumped hers up from a handful to more than he could hold in two palms because she thought he’d like her better that way. Wrong.

From the line of Allie’s lips and the tension in her arms, it was obvious she wanted to cross them over her chest. She’d started this walk on the wild side, but it was obvious she wasn’t as bold as she pretended.

Cameron took hold of her shoulders and pressed her back so he could look at her. She stared straight into his eyes and squared her shoulders, but something told him she’d been in this situation before and expected a bad reaction. Had a guy in her past made her feel insecure? Some idiot touching her was bad enough. One who’d touched but not appreciated? Idiotic asshole.

He dropped his gaze, taking in the freckles he was so obsessed with, and lower, to the pale smooth skin of her breasts. True, they weren’t lush, but small could have a hell of an impact. Taut nipples surrounded by dark apricot areoles encompassed nearly her entire breast. At the thought that he could suck every bit of that flesh into his mouth, his cock gave an appreciative jerk. “They’re perfect.”

Allie squirmed on his lap but didn’t try to brush off his comment the way some women might. He hated it when a woman couldn’t accept honest praise about her body.

Cameron slid his hands from the warm skin of her shoulders to her subtly rounded flesh and savored the feel of those berry-sized nipples pouting into his palms. Her low moan and the arch of her neck as she pressed closer made him want to lay her back and push into her again and again.

But no matter what kind of Bad Girl fantasy Allie had going, it wasn’t going to happen in the front seat of his car. He’d picked her up expecting dinner and maybe a movie, but apparently, Allie was serious when she said sex only. She might think she didn’t need social foreplay, but a relationship, a real one, required something more than bodies.

For now, he slowly rolled her nipples between his finger and thumb. She made a sound that could have been pleasure or pain. He lightened his touch. “Too much?”

“Oh my God, no.” She started that rocking motion with her pelvis again.

Heat radiated through her panties into the coarse cotton of his slacks. If he could take his hands off her breasts, he’d likely find her hot and wet. His erection pushed harder against his fly. Damn, it was torture not to slide his zipper down for relief.

He breathed through his teeth, trying to regain control of his body.

The pain from those tiny metal teeth was keeping him from rushing—and blowing—the whole thing. What woman wanted her first time with a man to happen in the front seat of his car? Hell, even back in high school he’d had more sophistication than that.

He’d play along with this little make-out session for a while longer, but a few more strokes and kisses and he’d kick BB into drive and take Allie home. Next time, he’d take her to a public place, because they obviously couldn’t be trusted in private.

“There’s a little more to my fantasy.” Her hips continued to move. Slide. Circle. Slide.

Maybe going through life cross-eyed wouldn’t be so bad.

“Get into the backseat.” She clambered to her feet, putting her short skirt right at eye level.

Cameron slid his hands up her calves and thighs, and then it hit him. She was standing on BB’s seat. He glanced down. Relief spurted through him. She was no longer wearing those sexy ice-pick heels. Good to know he hadn’t completely lost his mind. Yet. “We’re not having sex in the backseat.” He hadn’t planned to make love with her tonight in the first place.

Fists propped stubbornly on her hips, she attempted to suck in her bottom lip without success. “This is my fantasy.”

He resisted the urge to take it between his teeth again. But that was what had started this whole thing. “Are you pouting?”

“No.” Allie stepped over the front seat. She snuggled into the backseat and rubbed her back against the creamy leather seat covers he’d spent a fortune on. Cash well spent, by the smile on her face. Watching her enjoy the sensation of the fabric gliding over her skin, he was tempted to jump back there and finish what they’d started. Jump, hell, he could pole vault over the seat with this Olympic gold medal erection. Allie’s half-closed lids and delicious little breasts didn’t help the pressure behind his fly.

“Come on. Don’t be a spoilsport.” She patted the seat. “I promise I won’t take advantage of you. We won’t do anything you’re not comfortable with.”

Now she’d stooped to insulting him. “Alice Ann Shelby, I have a good mind to come back there and spank your backside.”

“Well, at least I’d be getting some action.”

Damned if she didn’t make him want to beat his head against hard objects at least once a day. “Against my better judgment, I’ll come back there but only for a few minutes.”

“I know. You don’t want to get the reputation for putting out on the first date.”

He opened his door and eased to the back. There was no way he could’ve done that climbing-over-the-seat trick and held on to the option of someday fathering children.

“I could’ve treated you to a Dairy Queen Hungr-Buster earlier.” She scooted over to give him room on the bench seat. “Then you wouldn’t feel so cheap.”

Sexy and a sense of humor. The combination was hard to resist. Maybe there was no reason to, but he was thirty years old for God’s sake. Thirty-year-old men did not have to have sex in a car.

He leaned back against the smooth leather, warm from her body, and gave in to his urge to laugh. “Haven’t you heard it takes more than a burger and basket of fries these days? No way will I have sex with you unless you spring for the Cherry Coke and Dilly Bar too.”

Allie swung a leg over his thighs, straddling him again. Fine. She wanted to play? He could handle this. He’d find out what she wore under that flirty full skirt before he gave her one, maybe two, screaming orgasms. Then he would take her home before she could talk him into more.

At the touch of her dainty hands at the front of his fly, his hips jerked. “What the hell are you doing?”

She deftly flipped open the button and began easing open his zipper. “Finding out what’s behind Door Number One.”

He grabbed one busy little hand, but apparently she was ambidextrous. Control his relationship with this woman? God was having a fine chuckle at his expense right now.

She smiled at him, a secret girl expression. Her pupils were dilated so fully he could see only the slightest rim of blue around her iris, and his willpower went
poof.
Fine, this was her fantasy, not his.

Yeah, right. And he wasn’t going to get a damn thing out of it.

She unzipped his fly all the way. The warm night air caressed him and the air in his lungs froze. She slid between his knees and tugged on his pants. Major fail since he was seated. She struggled some more, only to tangle her fingers in his belt loops.

“This is crazy,” he said. “We’re adults. Adults don’t do this.” Part of him acknowledged that the seventeen-year-old Cameron Wright would’ve been giddy to have a gorgeous woman trying to rip his pants off in the backseat of the crapped-out car he’d driven in high school. My, how times did change.

“This adult does.” She circled the head of his dick with one fingertip, and teenaged Cameron was immediately in the house.

Maybe times didn’t change.

He lifted his hips, allowing her to slide his slacks and boxers past his knees. He should’ve felt like an ass sitting here with his pants around his ankles. But damn, the leather was smooth and cool against his bare skin. Allie’s yielding breasts and stiff nipples rubbed his inner thighs. His dick apparently didn’t give a damn about being in the backseat.

He could stop this any time he wanted. “Allie, are you sure you want—” She leaned forward and slid her tongue along him from balls to tip, and he hissed out a breath. “Jesus. H. Christ.”

This was not good. He was going to lose it. And he made it a firm rule to never, ever get his before the woman got hers. This was going to be the worst blow job of his life.

She stroked him again with that wicked tongue, and he couldn’t look away. Her hair was spread over his legs and belly like a thousand rays of soft sunlight. She lapped him up like he tasted better than a grape Popsicle on a hot day. He’d never be able to watch her eat one again without getting a hard-on.

When she finally sucked him into her mouth’s damp heat, it took everything he had not to pump his hips. He clamped his eyes shut. He wouldn’t survive both feeling and watching.

She varied her rhythm and technique. Licking and kissing delicately. Then scraping her teeth gently over his sensitive tip. Then sucking him fully into her mouth.

He had to stop her. Oh Christ, he couldn’t stop her. If he didn’t stop her, he was going to lose his ever lovin’ mind.

How had he lost control of this situation?

Lose it? He’d never had it to begin with.

Over the buzzing in his head, he heard a shrill ring. Allie froze and then jumped from his lap as though she’d been poked with a cattle prod. She shook her head and lunged for something in the front seat. Off balance, she fell back into his lap, clutching her cell phone. Good thing he still had decent reflexes and had protected himself as she landed on his thighs.

“Hello,” she panted into the phone. Dead giveaway she’d been up to something physical.

Soon, her breathing was almost normal and her tone was professional, which meant she was talking with a client.

“Mmm-hmm...Of course...You did the right thing...No problem. I’ll meet you at my office...Give me thirty minutes. Bye, Emmalee.”

It took a couple of seconds for her words to penetrate his lust-fogged brain. “What did you say?”

“Oh, crud.”

With his hands cupping her shoulders, he could feel the tension creep across the muscles in her back. “Please tell me you weren’t talking with my mother.”

“Okay. I wasn’t talking with your mother.”

“Who the hell else’s name is Emmalee in this town?” he demanded. This could not be happening. Allie had not just received a phone call from his mother. A call that had sounded suspiciously like one between counselor and client.

“Cameron, we are not having this conversation. I slipped up. I make a commitment to my clients’ privacy and that includes, most especially, privacy from nosy family members.” She shifted off his legs and retied her top.

His mom, at fifty-six years old, was a Personal Assets client? His shook his head but the ringing was still in there. Which was worse, his mom was getting sex advice from his...his...date or that she’d interrupted the hottest foreplay of his life?

He scrubbed his hands over his face and hair. “Shit, shit, shit.”

“You cannot let your mother know you overheard this conversation. If I hadn’t been distracted, I wouldn’t have talked with her until I could do so privately.” She stood and leaned over the seat to grab her shoes.

The fact that he was so surprised by this sordid little discovery that he barely thought about what was under her skirt pissed him off all over again. Then he remembered his khakis were heaped in a wrinkled mess at his feet, and he yanked them on. He left the fly parted because he’d be maimed for life if he zipped up now.

He glanced at his lap. Nix that. A man’s mom calling mid-BJ equaled a supersonic soft-on.

“I’m sorry about this, but I need you to take me to my place so I can pick up my car.”

“To meet with my mom?”

“I already told you I can’t discuss it with you.” As scorching as her mouth had been on him mere minutes before, it was now pursed like a nineteenth-century schoolmarm.

“Fine, but this discussion. And this, this—” he circled a hand between Allie and himself as they moved to the front seat, “—is not over yet.”

“Is that a promise or a threat?”

The woman had the nerve to laugh at his frustration? He cranked BB with more force than necessary. “Both, dammit.”

Chapter Eight

The drive back to Allie’s house was filled with the kind of silence that would explode if pricked with a straight pin. Allie finger-combed her hair, so when she met Emmalee it wouldn’t look as though she’d been engaged in scorching foreplay with her client’s son.

Allie had never had to interrupt her own pursuit of sexual happiness to assist someone else with theirs. That she’d been lodged between Cameron’s legs when his mother called had to be some kind of cosmic practical joke. But surprise and arousal was no excuse for blurting out a client’s name.

A mistake she’d never made before.

Cameron pulled into her short driveway and faced her. “About my mom—”

“We aren’t discussing this.” She gathered her sweater and reached for the door handle.

“Then how about we discuss this?” He tugged her back and kissed her. His lips were firm and his tongue aggressive. Frustration over the interruption or discovering his mom was Allie’s client? Before Allie could come to a conclusion, he released her. “We have unfinished business.”

Relief cruised through her system but was quickly chased with uncertainty. Unfinished business about Emmalee or them?