Pretty in Kink (3 page)

“I-I never said…”

“You don’t have to. It’s obvious.” His voice had a gruff,
almost surly tone to it, while his penetrating, sober gaze caressed her from
head to toe and back again. She could have sworn he’d reignited a flame and
aimed it right between her legs. “Sorry, I just got off work not long ago. I
own a bike sales and repair shop not far from here. So even though it might
look and smell that way, I don’t wallow in grease at night too.”

“I-I never said—or implied—that I thought you did.”

“In that case, you’ll be wanting to be ready by eight. I’ll
pick you up right on the nose.”

Britt let out a nervous laugh, glanced at her watch. It read
seven ten. “Tonight?”

“Ah, eager. I admire that in a woman.” The teasing glow in
his eyes returned.

She heaved a silent sigh, realizing he had a very dry sense
of humor. Not to mention an agenda to get her where he wanted her.

In his bed.

That potent combination was unfamiliar to her in her usual
choice of men, but it gave her a charge she couldn’t quite ignore.

She straightened her shoulders and withdrew her arm from his
grip. “I… Well, something sure tells me
you’re
eager.”

“What was your first clue?” Diego angled his head and
grinned with boyish charm. The move brought a tiny gold stud earring to her
attention. Britt had never been touched by a man with a pierced ear before,
much less gone on a date with one. The absurd idea of it had her nearly
cackling out loud despite the sexual rush it gave her. To add to the almost
pirate-like look of him, he folded his thick arms across his chest in a way
only a man of his stature and deserved arrogance could get away with. The
entire contradictory picture of boyish smirk coupled with self-assured rogue
made her womb contract and her emotions go all topsy-turvy.

Click.
She could almost hear the shackle being locked
around her heart.

He answered his own question when she gaped at him. “How
about the way I ogled you in public? But then, you’re beautiful. What
red-blooded man wouldn’t ogle you, or want to get you in his bed?”

Whew. She mentally fanned herself. No one could ever tell
the man he didn’t go after what he wanted. She’d bumped into him no more than
five minutes ago, and already he had her in his bed. But despite her raging
libido—which had been pretty much nonexistent moments ago—Britt knew from
Lexi’s horrible experiences with men like Diego that he was a scoundrel through
and through.

One not to be entrusted with a woman’s heart.

In fact, Britt had stood by and watched Lexi fall prey time
after time to these bad-boy-type men. Though Britt could understand the allure
now, she wouldn’t be making the same mistakes her friend repeatedly made.

“As I said before, thank you, but I really need to be
going.” She passed through the automatic doors.

He followed. “So what do you do? For a living, I mean.”

She gave him a sidelong look, not seeing the harm in revealing
her job to him. She shrugged. “Oh, just modeling. Catalog ads, store sales
mailers, internet shots for department stores, that type of thing.”

“Nice. I can see you doing that.” He fell into step beside
her and did this sort of nod-shake-head combination that made her wonder if he
believed her. Or maybe he thought she wasn’t pretty enough to be a model?

She combed her fingers through her hair, wiped at her lips.
“Thank you.” Maybe she had some smeared makeup, or her hair resembled a witch’s
hair?

“Okay. So eight o’clock Friday night. Two nights away. Think
you can wait that long?” A mocking glitter lit his eyes as he escorted her to
her Mustang convertible.

She couldn’t suppress the snort. “You put a lot of stock in
yourself, don’t you, Mr. Mansini?”

She had to admit he had every reason to.

“Diego. Mister doesn’t fit me, wouldn’t you say?” One
eyebrow arched and he moved to the Harley parked right next to her car. He
stuffed the drugstore sack into a leather saddlebag and jammed on a helmet.
Then he settled onto the seat and fired up the engine, his quiet confidence all
but saying he didn’t care one way or the other if she accepted his invitation
or not.

And damn it, that just made her want him more.

The oddly pleasant odor of his motorcycle’s exhaust assailed
her as she stuck the key in the door of her car. He raced his motor in neutral
as if to order her to turn around and give him her undivided attention. She
did. She turned back to him. And the hot, all-male image he made had her close
to dropping to her knees in subservience.

Ugh. Subservience, just like in the pictures.

“Mm, yeah, maybe you’re right. Maybe ‘mister’ doesn’t fit
you.”

“
Master
”
might though, given that dominant aura
surrounding you.

“So that’s your motorcycle?” Flustered at her own thoughts,
she blurted the dumb question over the rumble of the engine.

With every gesture he made, her own engine revved. He
flipped up the kickstand with the heel of his boot and step-rolled the Harley
backward out of the parking spot. Strong thighs clamped around the sleek
black-and-chrome bike, sending her hormones racing. Whew. She wiped at her
brow. What was the temperature out here tonight, anyway? He embodied complete
male sex appeal in a rough-hewn sort of way that just couldn’t be ignored. In
fact, he could be a model himself in a motorcycle or beer ad, the type of guy
who thumbs his nose at the clean-cut, pretty male models of the world.

The kind who, with a single sizzling look, proves what a
real man is like, how a real man keeps the women fantasizing and swooning like
weak-kneed twits.

Well, she refused to be a twit. She’d just have to shut her
motor down before she made a horrible mistake. Besides, she didn’t intend to
have to deal with Doris’ prude reaction. If Britt so much as glanced at a man
even slightly comparable to Diego, Doris would start in on one of her
you’re-better-than-that-scum lectures. Then Britt would get that urge to search
for a new agent.

But securing another agent could be just as difficult as
landing a top runway gig.

“Naw, I’m stealing it.” His answer reemphasized that it
had
been a dumb question. He winked and made a sardonic click with his tongue.

Her traitorous cunt throbbed in response.

Okay, you lose, Britt the Twit. Don’t let him get away
without accepting that date.

Instead of waving goodbye the way she should have, she held
her breath, waited, wondered what he would do or say next.

Hoped he’d repeat his dinner invitation.

“Kidding. It’s mine, all right. One of several.” He lifted a
finger in farewell, releasing the brake. Her heart lurched and sank in one
motion.

No, don’t leave, don’t leave, don’t…

The bike came to an abrupt stop as if he’d forgotten
something. Or read her mind. “See you later, doll. Friday. Eight o’clock
sharp,” he called out over his shoulder as the motorcycle rolled farther away
from her.

“But wait.” She held up a hand.

He wasn’t going to ask her again. The conceited hunk already
assumed she’d accepted.

And of all things, that turned her on.

He squeezed on the handbrake again. Tires squealed on pavement
and left the stench of burned rubber wafting in the air. His quizzical, silent
look made her stomach quicken. So damn handsome.

“Y-you don’t even have my phone number or address.”

Traffic hummed by. He looked her square in the eye through
the yellow-toned visor. The gleam she caught there melted her insides.

“Got it off the envelope when you dropped it on the floor.”
He tapped the helmet at his temple and rattled off her number with smooth
accuracy. “Photographic memory.”

He squalled from the lot and wove his way into the busy
Tampa traffic. Dark tendrils of long, straight hair whipped behind him. The
leather vest stretched smooth across his wide back, and she realized she still
held her breath, imagining the hard bulk of the shoulders beneath her eager
hands.

Digging her fingers into the taut muscles during the throes
of some hot sex.

Bulging muscles overpowering her.

Tossed and rolled and filled to high heaven.

Britt waved the envelope in front of her face. Her gaze
followed him until he slipped over the horizon and the rumble of his motorcycle
died in the din of traffic.

“Oh shit. What the hell have I just done?”

Britt smoothed her hair one last time before she went out
into the living room to answer the door. The sound of the buzzer sent her pulse
into a spiky rhythm she couldn’t seem to squelch. Diego had called her that
night after she’d returned from the drugstore and asked if she’d mind going to
a biker rally Friday morning for breakfast instead of dinner.

A biker rally? She was actually going to go to a
biker
rally today? Wow.

She’d driven home from yesterday’s photo shoot with knots in
her belly and a stupid grin on her face. Then a sleepless night coupled with
this morning’s shower had been torture. By the end of her ritual of shaving,
conditioning and skin treatments, along with fantasizing about making love with
him, she’d needed to rinse the sticky trickle from between her legs. What’s
more, he was here now and the cycle would start all over again.

As she reached for the door handle, she conjured a mental
image of him, wondering how close he’d come to the Diego of Wednesday evening.
Would he have shaved the smattering of whiskers, combed back the shoulder
blade-length dark locks? Would he be in worn jeans and the leather vest again,
or would he have opted for a bit more clean-cut image? Really, it didn’t matter
to her either way. Her type or not, the man would be hot however he presented
himself, whether clothed or naked.

Mmmm, naked. Now that’s a nice thought.

She unlocked the deadbolt and turned the knob. Her pulse
palpitated as she pulled the door open almost in slow motion, her breath held
in, waiting…

She released the air.

Diego stood outside holding a long, narrow box in the crook
of his arm. Her heart did an odd roll in her chest at the picture he made. He’d
shaved his jaw smooth but had left the beginnings of a mustache and goatee. His
eyes glowed in that predator’s way, making her feel naked and nervous. Damp
hair had been hand-combed away from his face, so she assumed he’d secured it
low at his nape in a ponytail, not loose as it had been at the store. He again
wore leather, though it appeared newer and sleeker—a jacket this time. It lent
him that dangerous look, the one that had kept her distracted on the set the entire
shoot yesterday, and awake all last night.

A thrill of recklessness shimmied up her spine. But that
dangerous look, god help her, hit her tenfold now. How could that be possible,
to ooze even more magnetism than when she’d first met him?

Her gaze traveled down the long length of him, over the
chiseled, t-shirt-clad chest peeping out from beneath the jacket. Her palms
tingled and she suppressed the sudden need to reach out and skate her hands
across the defined pectorals, to explore downward over the washboard abs she
could discern beneath the snug fabric.

Breathe. Talk. For heaven’s sake, do something.

But she couldn’t resist further inspection. He’d donned
jeans again, she noted with pleasure, but this time they were even more worn
with rips and holes that afforded her glimpses of tanned knees and thighs
scattered by faint whorls of deep-brown, curly hair. The ankles of the jeans
were settled around scuffed leather boots, but her gaze kept returning to the
crotch of his pants. With a darting glance and a surge between her legs, she
took note of the tattered, thin fabric cradling a prominent fullness.

She swallowed. Holy shit, look up, look away.

From where she stood, she could smell the faint aroma of
soap and a pleasing, musky aftershave. The whole sight he made standing there
with that dark, imperceptible look on his tanned face could have brought her to
her hands and knees if she hadn’t been clutching the door.

“Good morning, Britt,” he said in a raspy voice. There
wasn’t even a trace of a smile, just that penetrating look that had the power
to render her speechless.

Britt shivered. Her mouth went dry. She tried to suppress
the throbbing in her loins, but she couldn’t douse the fire, even knowing
neighbors could be peeping out their curtains, shocked that a man like this
stood on her doorstep making her swoon.

“Hi there.” Britt stood aside, waved him in and took a quick
visual sweep of the condos across from hers before she shut the door.

He stepped just over the threshold. His jacket made that
faint squeak. She thought of the moment in the drugstore when he’d drawn her
close to keep her from hitting the floor. She’d inhaled his scent and become
mesmerized by those melt-me eyes.

Diego offered the box to her. “For you.”

She reached out and cradled it in her arms. A bouquet of
tissue-wrapped pink roses were framed by the clear cellophane window. “Wow.
They’re beautiful. Thank you.”

“Might want to put them in water before we leave.”

“Yes. Yes.” She scurried into the kitchen and pulled down a
vase from the cabinet above the stove. Across the breakfast bar, his gaze
followed her, caressing her. She averted her stare, arranged the roses and
added water.

But her cell phone buzzed in her office just off the living
room and broke the spell. Or maybe it was a rescue ring? “Um, sorry. Could you
excuse me while I get that?”

“You bet. Take your time. I’ll just hang out and watch TV or
something.” He sauntered to the couch and sat, legs spread in that guy way.

Britt caught her breath and swallowed to ease the lump in her
throat. She stepped through the archway and into the bay nook she’d set up as
an office, sat and took a deep breath. Damn, if she turned her head just so,
she could see him in her line of vision. She hoped it wasn’t someone she’d need
privacy to talk to.

Such as Lexi harping on that contest and wanting Britt to
turn the pictures over to her.

Or a nosy neighbor prying into her life, wondering who this
man was.

Or Doris, god forbid.

He turned her on like crazy, which gave her this obsessive
need to separate him from the rest of her life.

She glanced at the phone’s screen. Crap. Doris.

What a mood killer.

Britt bit her lip. It was her day off, so she didn’t
have
to answer it.

It rang and vibrated on her desktop calendar, making vague
paper-crunching noises.

Let it go to voicemail.

She slid a look at Diego. Her insides jumped with excitement
to get out that door with him.

Ignore it…

Britt pulled in a rush of air. It could be news about the
Victoria’s Secret runway gig.

“But if it was good news Doris and I got the Victoria’s
gig,” she murmured to herself as the phone continued to ring, “Doris would hate
Diego, insist I dump him for my job’s sake. I should probably back out on the
bike rally, not take the risk of getting into controversy.”

What I don’t know won’t hurt me. Or make me decide
not
to do something I’m dying to experience.

Yeah. That was it. In this case, ignorance had a definite
possibility of turning into bliss. So she let it go to voicemail. She’d listen
to it later tonight.

Britt grinned at herself and walked away from her desk,
phone in hand. On a brave whim, she reached out to him as she passed by on her
way to get her jacket. He didn’t hesitate to snatch her hand. It felt dwarfed
in his. The heat from his palm traveled into her icy fingers and a surprising
sense of calm overtook her.

“Sorry about that. I’ll be with you in a short bit.” She
stepped away. Their fingers held, uncurled, separated as she started for the
foyer closet.

He winked. “I know you will.”

She opened the closet door, slid her gaze to Diego where he
lounged on her couch with the remote. He seemed engrossed in the television,
punching the buttons until he found a program about a motorcycle shop building
a bike for a celebrity, oblivious to what that wink had done to her insides.

Holy moley, he looks so hot.

Her heart pounded. A flood of juice trickled from her pussy.
She suppressed a rush of lust and tore her gaze from him, forcing herself to
stroll into her room, grab a random ponytail holder off the dresser and slip it
on her wrist.

She didn’t even look at him when she stepped back into the
room. She couldn’t, or she feared she’d jump him and get that bulge inside her
before she even realized what she’d done. Instead, she snatched her backpack
from the barstool, slipped her cell inside a pocket and turned to the door. She
announced, “Are you ready? I sure am.”

“Um, you’re going to want to pull that gorgeous hair back
and bring a heavier jacket.”

She couldn’t avoid looking at him anymore, so she pivoted
around to face him. He stood over by the fireplace, his thumbs hooked in his
front pockets, looking sexier than any man had a right to.

“I am?”

“The morning wind’ll be chilly, not to mention it’ll knot
all that thick hair up. Mm, you’re going to look hot on the back of my
monster.” He angled his head, narrowed his eyes and added, “You’re cool with
riding on a motorcycle, aren’t you?”

His
monster
.

What had gotten into her? Innocent words, a look and the
thought of something as nonsexual as his motorcycle flipped a switch in her
head and made her mind walk on the wild side and her crotch go all hot.

Did she have an electrical short in her system? Look at him,
sizzle, look away, recover. Rinse, repeat.

He ambled toward her where she stood by the door. His
fresh-air aroma floated to her across the short distance. She pictured herself
on the back of his bike, clinging to his wide torso, inhaling his scent,
rubbing her breasts against his back. The fantasy of it made her tongue thicken
and her legs go limp with desire as she imagined her pussy pressed against his
butt, the seat vibrating like a sex toy between her legs.

“I-I, uh, I’ve never ridden one before, but yes, that would
be fine.”

He lifted a hand and traced her bottom lip with his thumb.
The move took her by surprise and made her system kick into overdrive. Again.
“Scared?”

She shook her head, watching his gaze as it followed his own
finger’s path around her lips.

“Sure?”

“I’m sure. Now, can we get going before my agent calls me
again, or shows up, god help me?”

He threw his head back on a laugh. The genuine, deep tune of
it settled somewhere in her soul. “You bet. But can I ask you one thing first?”

She just wanted to get the hell out of here, to climb onto
that bike of his, speed off and never come back. “Ask away.”

His eyes angled down, captured her mouth again. “I normally
take without asking, but given what I just heard you say about maybe backing
out on the rally, I’ll give you this one chance to say no to the ride, and to…
Well, can I kiss you?”

“Can you…”

“Can I kiss you?” he repeated. “I figured since I won’t have
your agent’s vote, then it might be my only chance to taste you before she
talks you into dumping me. Or you talk yourself into it.”

She glanced away, locked back on his gaze again. Shit, he’d
heard her mumbling about the phone call. Heat crept up her neck. It engulfed
her face and seemed to incinerate her tongue, her voice. Her mind screamed yes
to the kiss, but her body wouldn’t move. She wanted it, wanted him. But this
was the tipping point, her last chance to decide which side of the fence she
wanted to walk on.

The boring, prude side.

Or the tempting, wild side.

Her silence must have meant consent from his view. He slid a
hand across her rib cage, settled it at the small of her back. It scalded her
like a hot iron. His gaze dropped away from hers and snared her lips again. He
tugged her closer, gliding his hand farther still, until he had his arm wrapped
around her waist. With the other, he cupped her cheek.

It might be my only chance to taste you.

His words came back to her in an erotic reverberation that
shook her to her bones and set her blood boiling. Again. Images of him sampling
her body’s most intimate areas made her lips part and her crotch ache with
longing.

It seemed the journey from apart to together took eons. His
mouth touched hers and her eyelids fluttered shut. At first, the tenderness of
it made Britt think she’d imagined the kiss. But he groaned and it brought her
to full awareness of all its tingly wetness. His fingers hooked at the back of
her neck and tangled in her hair. She heard—no, felt—his indrawn breath, loved
the crunch of leather as he shifted, followed by the sensation of her body
being molded to his long, hard length.

Uh-oh, I’m a goner.

Her backpack hit the floor with a thud. Britt braced her
palms against his chest, at first in weak defense, but it evolved into
surrender. The rippled wall of his torso flexed against her palms as he
tightened his embrace. To keep from falling, or maybe for the sake of pure
wanton need, she slid her arms up and wound them around his thick neck just the
way she had in her fantasies. Now in the throes of reality rather than dreams,
it did something feral to her insides, causing her to rise up on tiptoe and
cling to him.

The move brought her breasts against his chest. Her nipples
went into sexual shock, tingling as they hardened and scraped over the lace of
her bra. She shimmied closer, parting his jacket farther, stretching upward to
sculpt her hips to his. The half-hard erection he ground against her pussy didn’t
surprise her. It sent a welcome jolt of desire through her womb. Britt moaned
into his mouth, now resigned to her licentious behavior, helpless to resist his
swift seduction.

The kiss deepened. He pushed his velvet tongue past her lips
and dipped inside her mouth. She tasted mint and the vague flavor of tobacco.
She’d never been attracted to smokers before. But mmm, the taste fascinated
her, even appealed to her. How could that be?

At this point, she didn’t know, didn’t care. She took the
unfamiliar, warm passion he offered. Her panties flooded with cream. She could
smell her own perfume, and the potent combination of it mixed with his faint
aftershave sent her reeling in a fantasy where she ripped his clothes off.
Britt panted into the kiss, picking up the pace when she realized if he kept
this up, kept grinding his cock against her pebble-hard clit, she’d come right
here and now.