Sarasota Sin (7 page)

“A future playground,” she explained. “We painted the half wall to break up the distance, bringing the two clusters of buildings together. So visually you have the community effect and not one of, say, a strip mall. An illusion our architect suggested.”

“Are you fond of illusions?” He stopped short when they passed a small exhibit depicting sailors’ knots, his tanned fingers sliding over a slipknot as he made an appreciative noise in the back of his throat.

Payton had absolutely no idea what to say to that. Instead, she muttered on about the park. “S-some patrons can picnic out here instead of grabbing something at the coffee shop, especially in cooler winter months.”

He laughed low, following her again. “Allowing another leaky pipe in your bottom line.”

“Perhaps.” Their bottom line wasn’t any of his business, but Payton bit her tongue. Paul volunteered his time, after all, so she could deal with his attitude until he left. She cleared her throat. “The local art school donated sculptures to break up the emptiness until we finish our outdoor projects.” Payton stared at the closest one, it looked to be circa nineteen fifty-five, nothing current in any way whatsoever. Basically, from what she gathered, the school had cleaned out an old storage facility and had given the firehouse what they would have tossed, guising the gesture under a tax-friendly donation.

Suddenly, he grabbed her, his large hands circling her upper arms and holding her back from her next step. Her back pressed against his unforgiving chest, his clean scent invading her. What was he about? When she lifted her foot, readying to slam her walking boot onto his instep, a vision on the sidewalk stopped her actions.

“Picnics, huh,” he whispered softly next to her ear, his breath hot against her cheek.

Sliding away from him, she stepped over the trio of used condoms, flushed a thousand shades of crimson, and started walking again. “Thanks.”

“You’re not going to call anyone for cleanup detail?”

Payton needed cleanup detail more than the sidewalk. Her collared shirt was stained, her shorts dampened with mildew water. And her hair, she still held whatever that stench was she picked up beneath the sink. “We have one person left in maintenance, and Bill’s not speaking to me.”

“Is it because you won’t look at him?”

Nearly stumbling, Payton reached out and opened the center glass door leading into the pottery loft. “What?”

A solitary finger met her cap, hooking beneath the brim, and slowly lifted it up her forehead. “I’m wondering what you’re hiding under here.”

She held still, one hand clutching the door, the other fisting at her side, as her eyes finally met his. His were a scorching hazel. The heat of them so potent with raw sexuality, drinking her in with such a strange curiosity, they widened with every visual pass he made over her face. Chin to forehead. Again. Chin to forehead. For the most part, he appeared horrifically startled. Long seconds passed before he released the brim of her hat and then shoved his fingers through his midnight hair, yanking at it a tad before he dropped his hand to his side. His breathing had changed, the pulse at his neck pounding.

He swallowed a couple of times, went completely motionless, and uttered, “Christ.”

5

“Um.” Payton opened her mouth and forgot what she was going to say. Paul was just as she suspected, his voice matched his eyes. He was masculine yet beautiful, impossibly beautiful.  Finding it hard to look away, her eyes got all tangled up in him. He had to be a good six feet four, his age around thirty, but his eyes flicked with gold spoke of an ancient soul, a soul who had seen too much to be happy.

He opened his mouth, shook his head, and then closed it. The few walking the sidewalk were starting to notice, and Payton was horrified to realize they were standing there staring at one another, just staring. She heard her heart pounding in her ears.  After another beat, the sounds of the road rushed in, then a child screaming for his wayward balloon jarred her to break the trance. Payton put distance between them by walking inside the building, relishing the burst of cool air across her overheated skin. At least, the air conditioning was working.

He followed her, the heat of his body warming her back. Payton found her voice, moving towards the stairs. “The main issue here is the exhibit lights.”

His voice had dropped an octave. “No elevators?”

She knew what he was implying, that he thought she couldn’t handle standing next to him in an elevator car. “Only one and it’s on the fritz.”

“Truly?”

Turning on the third step, she was now level to his scrumptious face as he’d only placed one foot on the bottom step. “See for yourself,” she replied, waving a hand where a lowly downed elevator stood with two warning signs. He glanced at the signs, shook his head in disgust, his black hair dancing over his black collar. “Besides, you don’t want to ride in an elevator with someone who smells like I smell today.”

“You don’t think so?” His hand came up, closing over hers where she held the banister. 
“Payton.”

The way he said her name stroked her as intimately as a caress. She stared down, where he was holding her hand with familiarity. “What are you doing?”

“What does it feel like?”

“Unprofessional,” she offered, tugging away from him. Reluctantly he released her, but his eyes stayed hot, trailing up and down her body. Still he appeared almost astonished as if he were waking from a nightmare and didn’t know what to make of her. “Do you need a moment to catch your bearings?”

“No.” Something flashed in his hazel eyes, his dark brows forming a sudden frown. “What’s your major?”

“I’m not an intern,” she answered, looking away from the intensity of his gaze. Everyone asked her that due to her age, and it was becoming annoying. “I’m a full partner. I was supposed to lead the educational part of our facility for community projects, but my position morphed into something…never mind.”

His brows rose. “You’re one of those caring souls, aren’t you?”

Who doesn’t care? “On my good days,” she retorted with open bewilderment. “And apparently you do as well or you wouldn’t be here donating your time.”

“There you are!” Libby boomed.

Payton turned her head. “Hey, Lib, this is Paul-”

“I think we have our wires crossed here.” She marched across the floor in record time. Payton had never seen Libby move so quickly. “Noah started Paul Johnson in the main gallery.”

With a startled jerk, Payton eased around her impostor, swiftly finding her way to the bottom of the stairs. “Then, I’m at a disadvantage.  Who might you be?” she asked passively, hiding how her thoughts churned in furious, rolling waves. Why had this beautiful stranger duped her by pretending to be an electrician?

“Avery Easton,” he said in his devil’s drawl. He closed the distance between them. Once again, he held out his hand to Payton. However, she stood there dumbfounded, so Libby shook it instead.

“Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Easton,” Libby acknowledged, flicking a nervous glance between Avery and Payton. “We weren’t expecting you.”

“Just as I wasn’t expecting Ms. Calloway last evening. Nevertheless, she wanted to meet with an Easton.” He raised his brows, keeping his eyes locked on Payton. “So here I am.”

Here he was, indeed, in all his delicious glory. “Last night…in the tower.” Her fingertips pressed her temple. “You kissed me. You wore the mask, sent the flowers.”

“And tucked you away safely, I might add.” He nodded, his lips slightly parted, his breaths quickening. When she remained quiet, he asked, “Would you prefer to speak with my cousin Dylan then?” He raised a raven brow. “Though, by my observations, he wasn’t receptive to …talking.”

“No,” Payton was quick to answer, “and thank you, Mr. Easton. The flowers are lovely.” Over-the-top lovely, she mused, thinking the exclusivity of the arrangement and endless blooms must have set him back hundreds. Then she appraised his superior clothing with a sweeping glance, reminding herself hundreds were pennies to an Easton.

Once again, he held out his hand to her, his eyes burning with…could that be open lust? And he didn’t care that Libby was looking on. “You must call me Avery.”

Payton felt her cheeks burn as she took his hand once more. This handshake, knowing who he was and what he was about, felt far different from the one they’d shared only minutes ago. In his eyes, she could tell he was remembering last night, intently, and a mild shudder rolled out of nowhere, leaving her fingertips to surge into the warm strength of his hand. “Avery it is,” she agreed, his gold-green eyes burning into hers. When she meant to pull her hand from his, he tightened his grip.

“My name on your lips.” He flipped her hand over, tenderly, kissing her inner wrist over her pulse point, the faint scrape of his straight white teeth startling her, zinging all the way to her clitoris. Immediately she grew slick, the resonant throbbing in her bundle of nerves reminding her of how intimately he’d handled her last night, without actually touching where she burned for him.

And the thoughts she’d been having about his cousin.

What was happening to her?

How could two strangers affect her this way?

When he released her hand, with obvious reluctance, Payton’s heated blush made its way down the front of her neck. Embarrassment wasn’t an easy hide on her porcelain-toned skin. For all the gusto she’d held last night, today her defenses were sadly lacking. She’d kissed Dylan, kissed Avery, and then fainted in his arms like the lush she wasn’t. Perspiration beaded on her upper lip, and she figured Libby should handle this round on her own. “I’ll leave you two to discuss our unfortunate situation,” she offered with a caustic smile, quickly making her way to the door. “I hope an understanding can be reached.” Neither said a word, when she walked through the front door and left them to discuss business.

She palmed her forehead, making her way across the street. “Don’t think about him,” she chanted quietly. Reconsidered and then amended, “Don’t think about them.”

In a self-induced fog, Payton arrived at the loft. Swearing under her breath as she kicked off her shoes, she headed to the only working shower, stripping as she went. She pulled the elastic off her ponytail and settled under a steaming rush of water, grateful the water heater was working today. How had Avery Easton kissed her wrist when she smelled this way?

When she worked the shower gel in the palms of her hands, she saved her nipples for last, tweaking them until the pull echoed deep inside her womb. With suds sluicing between the globes of her breasts, down her stomach, the warm trickle made its way to her throbbing clitoris, the bud swollen twice its size.

Her thoughts still on Avery, she reached for the detachable shower massage, complete with seven settings, though Payton only wanted it on supercharged pulsation. Teasing her wet flesh, she slipped two fingers between her slick folds with her free hand. She couldn’t believe how thick and swollen her labia was and knew it would take only a swipe or two of the harsh water flow to send her over the edge.

In and out.

In and out.

Payton toyed with herself, biting her bottom lip when her orgasm neared screaming territory. Situating the sprayer over her core, she took one swipe and her thighs tightened. Then another swipe brought her head back, forcing her eyes closed in ecstasy. “Oh, this is going to be…good.” When she touched her clitoris head on, allowing only an inch of room between the showerhead and her burning flesh, she exploded with a strangled cry.

“Shit! Shit! Shit!”

“Oh, hell, Payton,” Noah groaned from just beyond the shower curtain.

Through her sexual haze, she turned to the left and caught his silhouette. If her heart wasn’t thundering enough,  she was headed into coronary territory. “N-Noah?” She dropped the handheld, its chrome cord swinging back and forth and then slamming into her knee. “Ouch!” Grabbing her knee, she slipped and fell.

In a flash, Noah was staring down at her in horror. “If you wanted your back washed, all you had to do was ask.” He reached for her and she recoiled, pushing herself into the corner and wrapping her arms around her knees.

The doors in their loft had been removed for stripping and re-varnishing, affording them no privacy. “I’m naked.” Her eyes roamed Noah’s equally naked chest, his unzipped jeans, the creamy splatter sliding down his skin. “You…”

“I came for you,” he said unabashedly. “How could you expect me not to, with you masturbating within my reach?” He didn’t wait for her response, asking, “Are you hurt?”

“Just embarrassed,” she replied, shooing him with her hand.

“Embarrassment is the least of your concerns, Pay. No one screams the way you just did unless she’s really hungry.  Honey, your body is asking for it. Let me show you how good my touch can feel.”

What had Libby told him? “You weren’t going to pressure me, remember?”

He nodded, fighting to take his eyes away from her. “I remember.”

“I’ll be out in a minute.”

“Do you need help up?”

“I’m okay.”

“Do you want to wash my back?” he asked playfully, pulling the shower curtain closed.