Sex Drive (9 page)

“You identified enough with them to get the tattoo, and you’ve never had it removed. And author hype emphasizes your Aboriginal roots. That’s how I heard about your books.”

“Yeah, well, that was my publisher’s and agent’s idea. A hook when the first book came out. Aboriginal writer with Aboriginal hero.” He grimaced. “I wasn’t so keen on it myself. And it pissed my entire family off.”

“Really? I guess if your parents had raised you as white…”

“Yeah, they didn’t want the Aboriginal association. And my Aboriginal granny and other relatives were mad because they thought I was exploiting them and what they taught me.”

She was silent.

“Well?” he demanded. “Is that what you think?”

She nibbled on her bottom lip again, then her hand squeezed his. “My guess is, no. I think you just wanted to write a good story.”

“Too right.” Damn, if this almost-stranger who didn’t even like his writing could understand that, why couldn’t his grandmother and her kin? “Thanks.”

She studied his face and he saw shadows shifting in her multicolored eyes. Seemed to him like there was something else she wanted to say. Instead she just squeezed his hand again. “Maybe this is a good time to change the subject. What should I call you, Day or Damien?”

“Whichever you like.”

“Damien, I think.” Her lips curved. “That is, when I’m not calling you sweetie.”

That grin reminded him of something. “You still haven’t told me what you do for fun.”

Her eyes widened. She was quiet for a few seconds, then she gave a small smile, showing that appealing touch of vulnerability. “To be honest, this is the most fun I’ve had in a long time.”

Touched, he curved his palm along the side of her face. “It’s the most fun I’ve had, too.”

She went from vulnerable to skeptical in an instant. “Give me a break. You can’t expect me to believe that. I’m sure you’ve had better—” Her voice had been rising and she broke off, then continued in a whisper. “Better
sex
—real sex—with a dozen women in the last year.”

Yeah, he’d had plenty of real sex. But, there’d been something particularly erotic about fooling around with Theresa in the darkened plane. Besides…“It’s not only about the sex. It’s everything. The silly wedding dresses, the way you talk to yourself, those billabong eyes—”

“Those what?” she interrupted. “Did you say billabong eyes?”

“Yeah. They make me think of a pool of blue water reflecting the red cliffs overhanging it, the green leaves of gum trees rustling in a warm breeze.” He broke off, disconcerted at the words that had come out of his mouth. It was one thing to write this kind of shit in his books—and the truth was, it didn’t come easy for him—but it was something else to say it to a woman. “It’s a compliment, honest.”

Her lips curved. “And a poetic one. Hey, you could be a writer.”

He smiled back. “Anyhow, on the subject of fun. You’re interesting, different, challenging. Being with you is fun.”

“Yes.” She ducked her head, flushed. “That’s what I meant, too. Not just the uh, almost-sex, but being with you. Even when we disagree.” She darted a look through her lashes, eyes twinkling. “Looking at you’s no hardship either, sweetie.”

“Back at you, sugar.”

She raised her head. “You make me feel female.”

“News flash.” He touched her unconfined breast through her top, felt the nipple harden. “You are.”

“I don’t normally feel that way. I’m the professor. You know, gender neutral.”

“You may be a prof, but you’re most definitely not gender neutral.” His cock wouldn’t respond this way to anyone who was less than 100 percent woman.

“Short hair, no makeup, tailored clothes, always wear pants. Always working.”

He shook his head, then ran his fingers through her hair, separating the silky auburn strands. “Sexy hair that shows off your long neck and pretty ears.” He rimmed an ear with his index finger and felt her tremble. “Perfect features, billabong eyes, rosy lips.” His fingers traced down her face to rest on her very kissable lips. “Why the hell would you need makeup?”

Her mouth curved under his touch.

“Tailored clothes? Yeah, have to say, I’d like to see you in a skirt.” He dropped his hand to her shoulder, caressed it, then drifted his fingers down her arm. “This top is good, though. Shows off those nice shoulders and arms, and the V-neck is classy. Low enough to give a guy ideas, but not so low that it’s tacky.”

“I—”

“Hold on, I’m not finished.” Threading his fingers through hers again, he continued. “As for always working, well…Sometimes you’re critiquing wedding dresses—or novels. Sometimes you’re squabbling with your sisters, and sometimes you’re doing your little sister a very big favor.”

He clicked off his seat light and, in the sudden darkness, tugged her hand toward him. “And sometimes you’re turning me on something fierce.” He pressed their joined hands over his erection, which jumped eagerly.

“I do like doing that.” Her voice caught, then she gave a husky giggle. “Touching you turns
me
on.”

“Hate to think it was one-sided.”

She stroked him through his jeans. “Want to get under the blanket again?”

“You know what I really want? I want to get into you.”

There was a pause. Damn, had he been too crude?

“I’d like that, too.”

Tentatively, he said, “There’s always the loo. It’s not romantic, but it’s private.”

“Could we sneak in there without anyone seeing?”

“Everyone’s asleep. Course we can.”

“Really?” Her hand clutched him tight through his jeans.

Oh yeah, Theresa was turned on, too. She only
thought
she was a stuffy professor.

“I’ll go first, make sure no one’s watching. If the coast is clear, I’ll leave the door open a crack and you’ll see the light.” He removed her hand, adjusted his swollen package inside his jeans, and headed up the aisle.

No one else was stirring in the business class cabin.

He eased open the door of the loo and glanced inside. Yeah, it was an airplane john, but it was clean and neat. Hoping Theresa wouldn’t lose her nerve, he stepped inside and slid the door partway shut. Then he took a paper towel and wiped drops of water from the sink and counter.

A few seconds later, the door moved and she was there, squeezing in. Damn, there wasn’t much space. Neither of them was huge—him at six foot and her at maybe five six—but they weren’t tiny, either.

He shifted one way to close the door behind her just as she moved in the same direction, and she stomped on his foot. Hurriedly she stepped back, only to lose her balance and crack her elbow against the sink. “Ouch.” She rubbed it. “Funny bone.” Even in this ugly artificial light, her eyes sparkled with laughter.

“This isn’t supposed to be funny,” he grumbled in a teasing tone, finally managing to close and lock the door. “It’s supposed to be sexy.”

“Sexy would be, mmm, a brass bed, candles, romantic music.”

Trust a female. That sounded more like
romantic
to him. “Sexy would be you naked.”

“Both of us naked. But I don’t think we could ever get our clothes off in here.” Doubtfully, she gazed up at him. “This probably isn’t going to work.”

“Course it will.”

“Oh, you know that, do you?” She raised her eyebrows. “You’ve done this before?”

“Uh…”

“You have!”

“Well, yeah. Is that so bad? I mean, you know I’ve had sex with other women.”

“Of course. I just didn’t realize you’d done it on a plane before.” She cocked her head. “How many times?”

“Uh, twice. Once with a flight attendant, once with another passenger.” Discomfited, he shrugged. “Long flights and all.”

“Oh, yes.” Her eyes narrowed dangerously. “Passing the time on a long flight. I’m quite aware of the phenomenon.”

Too late, he realized that had been one of his come-on lines to her. Damn, he didn’t want her to think she was an interchangeable female. “I chose you over Carmen.”

Her eyebrows rose.

Okay, maybe that hadn’t been the most brilliant thing to say, either.

Then she shook her head vigorously, as if to banish troublesome thoughts. “Right.” Her voice was brisk. “You did. And the truth is, we’re in this for mutual pleasure, right? So, since you’ve done this before, you must have worked out the logistics.”

True. Before, he’d yanked his pants down and sat on the john. One girl had hiked up her skirt, the other had pulled down her own pants, and they’d sat on his lap. Quick, efficient.

Meaningless. Superficial.

He damned well didn’t want his and Theresa’s mile-high club experience to be superficial. And right now, all this talk was ruining the sexy mood. “Oh, damn.” He caught Theresa’s head in both hands and bent down to kiss her.

She didn’t move for a moment, perhaps deciding whether she really wanted to go ahead with this. Then, in a rush, she stretched up so the fronts of their bodies pressed together tightly, wrapping her arms around his back. At first her lips were shy, her body tense, but he seduced her mouth and soon she loosened up and threw herself into the kiss.

Kissing her standing up was a revelation. Their bodies fit together perfectly. He’d been wrong about her height. She must be five seven, five eight. Tall enough that, when she rose up on her toes, her soft breasts pressed against his chest, her pelvis cradled his hard-on.

Earlier, they’d talked about dancing, and now he could imagine it. Her out of her tailored clothes, wearing a swirly skirt and heels, him leading with a hand on her back, a little hip action. And speaking of hip action, what the hell was he doing, thinking about dancing?

He reached down, finding the hem of her sleeveless top, easing away from her so he could pull it up her body and over her head. He tossed it toward the sink.

Naked breasts. Oh, man. They looked as good as they’d felt when he’d groped them under that blanket. Her skin was creamy, her nipples the soft pink of a rosebud. Totally, utterly, beautifully feminine. Reverently he caressed a nipple, circling her waist with his other arm.

Her skin puckered, the areola tightening as he watched, the nipple beading. A flush tinged her pale skin. Even the ugly light didn’t detract from the magic of watching her body become aroused by his touch. She sucked in a breath and her breasts lifted, thrust forward. Then, when she breathed out, they sank back. Had he ever seen anything as fascinating as Theresa’s breasts rising and falling as she breathed?

“I want yours off, too,” she murmured, trying to pull his T-shirt up his back.

He yanked it over his head. Then he grabbed her in his arms so their bare chests pressed and rubbed against each other, her breasts soft and cushiony and unmistakably natural.

There was nothing in the world to compare with the texture, the soft weight, of a genuine breast. “God, woman, I wish we had the space and time for me to do justice to your breasts.”

“Do justice?” she asked huskily.

“Oh, yeah. And to the rest of you as well. This mile-high thing is going to be about as frustrating as it’ll be satisfying.” That hadn’t been the case when he’d done this before. He and the women in question had been more concerned with getting their rocks off than spending time on caresses and kisses.

“I’d like that, too. But I’m nervous about someone catching us.”

She was right, but damn, he wanted time with her. “Honolulu,” he said, stroking the smooth skin of her back. Her soft hands moved from his shoulders down to his lower back where they lingered in a particularly erogenous spot. “I’m overnighting in Honolulu. Stay with me, Theresa.”

“I can’t. I have to get to Vancouver, start work on the wedding.”

He cupped her buttocks and pulled her closer against him, pressing his erection against her belly. “I’ve got a hotel room on the beach. A big bed. We’d have lots of time.” He dropped a kiss on her full lips. “Lots of privacy.”

She nibbled her bottom lip. “I have responsibilities.”

“All work? Come on, Prof. Give Theresa a day off to play. The woman deserves it.”

A quick grin. “She does. But her sister deserves a great wedding.”

He sighed. “How about if we compromise?” As he spoke, he punctuated his words with little kisses and nibbles, starting with her lips. “Stay over and we’ll both do some work, as well as have time to play.” He bent to kiss the hollow at the base of her throat. Her collarbone. “You haven’t speed-read that whole big bible yet, have you?” The upper swell of her left breast.

Her nipple. He laved it, then sucked it into his mouth like a whole strawberry, swirling his tongue around it, squeezing it between his lips.

She moaned and tangled her fingers in his hair.

He released her breast and she said, “No, don’t stop.”

“Say you’ll stay over with me.”

“My luggage is checked through.”

“Honolulu has stores. We’ll buy you a sarong.”

She giggled. “I’m not the sarong type.”

“Could’ve fooled me.” He licked her right breast, sucked on her nipple, then pulled away. “Oops. You haven’t said yes yet.”

“You’re going to deny me sex unless I say yes?” Her voice held humor and arousal.

“That’s pretty much the plan.”

“That would be blackmail.”

“Add that to the list of my sins. Glib, superficial writer, deceiver of women, and now blackmailer. Yup, I’m your basic scumbag.” He circled her areola with one finger and watched the skin tighten. God, the woman had to give in soon because he was dying to make love to her.

“A sexy scumbag, though.” Her eyes gleamed and she ran her hands over his chest, pressing into his pecs, threading through dark curls of hair, teasing his own nipples. “I guess you’re not leaving me any alternative.”

“Really? You’ll stay over? Share Honolulu with me?” Was that really him, sounding so pathetically excited and grateful?

“Yes.” She still sounded doubtful. Then she repeated, firmly, “Yes. As long as I can get a flight to Vancouver tomorrow.”

“Awesome!” He leaned over to suckle her right breast.

Again she gripped him by the hair, but this time she hauled his head up. “Damien, if we’re going to have lots of time and privacy in Honolulu, I really think we should, uh…”