Steady (3 page)

His eyebrows lifted in surprise. “Katrina,” he said, smiling. “You’ve had some more of those drinks,” he said, laughter in his eyes. He’d spotted her sitting in the chair when he’d entered, watching him and confirming his earlier assessment of her interest in him. He hadn’t come with anyone, unlike his two buddies, who had disappeared with their dates, and he hadn’t planned on leaving with anyone, either.

He’d watched Katrina make her way over to him, swaying a little on her feet, and he had to fight back his laughter. Too many drinks, he imagined, although he wouldn’t have pegged her as the drinking type—she seemed way too serious.

She stopped in front of him now, stepping in close and moving her arms slowly around his neck, pushing her face into the curve of it, swaying a little more. “No more talking,” she said.

Okay,
he thought,
not so shy or quiet after all
. He smiled again as his hand went around her back to help steady her. He pulled back, looking down into her eyes.

“What are you doing?” he quietly asked, smiling softly, humor in his eyes.

“Keeping you company. I saw all of your friends leave, desert you for those women, and I thought you might be lonely. We couldn’t have that, could we?” she said, drawing out each word as if speaking had become a difficult task.

It had taken three of those drinks to get her to the point where she was willing to ask for what she’d been wanting from him for a long time. She felt bold, sexy, and invincible, like all the other women she had seen with him. Her newfound alcohol-induced courage had found a friend in her longstanding desire to be near him. She was feeling quite proud of herself for taking the bull by the horns, so to speak.

She pushed herself closer, if that were possible, feeling the hard strength of him as she lowered her face back into the crook of his neck again. He smelled delicious and felt incredible, all hard male. She hadn’t been close to one of those in a long, long time. She moaned, softly but discernibly, breathing in the cool, clean scent of Will.

“How many of those drinks have you had?” he asked, hearing her moan as she slipped her head back underneath his chin.

“Three, I think,” she said. He was barely able to make out her words as he felt her mouth now moving against his neck. What was she doing?

“How about we get you home,” he said, trying to pull back away from her. She pushed herself closer.

“I don’t want to go home, unless it’s with you,” she said. He chuckled.

“You don’t mean that; you’ve just had a little too much to drink,” he said. And as tempting as she was, he didn’t do women who were anywhere near drunk—too many potentially dangerous side effects
.
She seemed just a little tipsy, but one never knew for sure what people could do under the influence.

He looked around the room for a spot to take her to sit, maybe find her ride so she could get home, but she apparently had a different plan in mind. It was approaching the midnight hour, and someone had started the downward count signaling the end of this year. He could hear her begin to count softly, her mouth now next to his ear. She’d only stopped kissing his neck a minute ago. When they reached the part about the Happy New Year, she turned his head with her hand and captured his lips with hers.

She opened her mouth over his, her tongue moving in, aggressive in its desire to taste and tangle with his; because it was the New Year, and she was very tempting, he kissed her back, sweeping his tongue into her mouth, taking over. She moaned, her arms tightening around his neck, pushing herself in closer.

And, because she felt so right in his arms, he gave into another need, moving his hands lower, pulling her hips in closer, moving her in a slow barely detectable grind, but one she felt down to her toes.

She wanted this to go on forever, but he pulled back and looked at her with a strange expression on his face.

“Let’s get you home,” he said.
Hell, yes,
she thought,
now you’re talking.

“Let’s get us home; your place or mine?” she asked. He shook his head, laughing a little.

“I said, let’s get
you
home,” he said, reaching behind his neck to secure and remove her hands from him.

“Let’s get us home,” she repeated.

He laughed again, turning her, positioning her in front of him, preparing to propel her forward and out the door. Before he could move, she pushed back into him, her butt aligning against the part of him that was ready and willing to take her up on her offer. It had come to life after that kiss. She moved her hips slowly in a circular motion against him, her hands moving up and clasping his neck again. He let her move against him just for a second, giving in to her seductive pull before reaching for her arms and pushing them down to her side.

“Let’s go, Katrina,” he said softly into her ear, a little breathless. Potent, she was turning out to be.

“My place it is,” she said, walking out the door, if perhaps more crookedly than she was aware. He held on to her waist, continuing to guide her as she walked.

“Did you come here alone?” he asked.

“Nope, came with Claudia and Amber,” she said.

“What do they look like?” he asked, stopping to look around. Big mistake. She turned, her arms around his waist this time, and resumed kissing his neck.

“Katrina, who did you come with again?” he asked, again keeping his focus on finding her ride.

“I came with friends. Where’s my phone? I’ll text them,” she said, moving her arms away and reaching for her purse.

“Okay,” he said, watching her fumble for a while before deciding that, in the interest of time, he’d better send the text. “Let me,” he said, taking her phone from her hand. Great, it was the same brand as his.

“Who should I text?” he asked.

“Amber,” she told him. He found Amber’s name and typed in “looking for u, need 2 go.”

“ICU” was the immediate response, and Will looked around, searching. He watched a woman walk toward them, obviously surprised to see Katrina nibbling his neck. She picked up her pace, hurrying over to them.

“Katrina, I believe your friend is here to take you home,” Will said.

“You’re taking me home,” Katrina responded.

“No, I’m not,” he said softly, which was followed by her arms becoming vice-like in their grip around his waist.

“So . . .” said her friend. “You are . . . ?”

“Will,” he answered.

“Will, huh? I’m Amber,” she said, her eyes narrowing, recognition dawning in them. But he couldn’t recall having ever met her.

“Well, Amber, I think Katrina has had a little too much to drink. Maybe she needs to go home,” he said.

Katrina turned her face around, her arms still locked around him. “Will is taking me home. It’s okay, he lives a couple of doors down from me. I know him and he knows me, don’t you, Will?” she said, giving him an exaggerated wink. “It’s not an imposition, is it, Will?” she asked, looking up at him, earnest, sexy and funny, which was an irresistible combination for him, at least tonight.

He laughed. Fine. He’d wanted to leave, anyway. “Sure, I’ll take her home,” he said to Amber.

“Kay,” Amber replied, watching him closely, her gaze penetrating and scrutinizing. Turning his attention back to Katrina, he said, “Okay, let’s get you to the door. Did you bring a coat?” he asked.

“No coat with me,” she said, turning back into his body. “I’ve got this pretty sweater, though,” she said, looking down at herself. It was plenty warm enough for her next to his body. He took off his jacket and placed it around her shoulders again. He then walked them through the throng and out the front door. She was glue, stuck to his body, her hands gripping his waist. Once they’d reached his jeep, he leaned her against its side while he opened the door.

“You’re really pretty, did you know that? Especially in your cycling outfit,” she said, looking at him, running her hand down the side of his face, desire on full display in her eyes. He opened the door, slipped her onto the seat, and reached for her seat belt. He didn’t have anything to say to that.

She leaned forward and captured his lips again, surprising him. He pulled back, watching her through hooded eyes. He buckled her in. “And you taste good, too,” she added, falling back against the seat. He ran his fingers through his hair, taking a deep breath before walking to the other side of his jeep and getting in. He looked over at her and saw that her dress had crept up. He reached over and secured the tails of his coat together, providing cover for her legs. He started the jeep and pulled away.

After a few minutes, he glanced over at her; her head was leaning against the door, eyes closed. This could not be the same neighbor he had seen as uninteresting because he’d only seen her working in her yard. Always working in that yard. He knew few women—no, make that
any
women—who spent as much time in the yard as she did. She was so young; she couldn’t be much younger than his twenty-seven years, he thought, looking over at her again. Her eyes were still closed. Until now, he’d kind of felt a little sorry for her life.

He drove most of the way home with her quiet; maybe she’d fallen asleep. He peeked over at her to find eyes staring back at him. He smiled.

His smile was slow in forming. A lot went into that smile of his—sex, confidence, intensity, all the ingredients that gave it so much power. “You’re a sight to behold,” she said, serious now, her hand reaching over to trace his eyebrow, skimming his face lightly before moving downward to brush over his cheek.

He smiled fully, finding humor in her. Her thumb brushed the small brackets on his face, a set on each side of his mouth, like he smiled and laughed often. He turned his eyes back to the road, and she moved her hands up and through his smooth, silky hair.

Twenty minutes later, he arrived at her home and pulled into the drive. He opened the door, got out, and walked around to her side.

“Where is the key to your door?” he asked. She reached into her bra, fished around for a while as he watched, spellbound, and then leaned forward and pulled out a key. She handed it over to him.

“Do you need me to help you walk in?” he asked, the key warm in his palm.

“Yes,” she said. She was much calmer now, no longer in her earlier attack mode. He put his arm around her waist and walked with her to the door, then unlocked it and walked her in.

“Where is your bedroom?” he asked, looking around her home, taking in the spotless neatness of it. No clutter; a woman after his own heart.

“To the left,” she said, and he walked her to it. He walked her over to her bed and pulled back her covers.

“Okay,” he said, removing his jacket from her shoulders and laying it on the bed, deciding to skip the sweater. He was about to remove his arm from her waist and help her into bed, but she was quick, putting her arms around his neck and falling back onto the bed, pulling him with her to land partly on top as she found his mouth again.

He reached for her arms to pull them away from him, but her mouth felt soft, welcoming, and warm on his, and her body warm, soft, and pliant beneath him.
Okay, I’ll leave in a minute,
he told himself. He pushed her further upward on the bed so that she was completely underneath him, her body aligned with his, and he kissed her as he’d wanted to from the beginning—open, aggressive, taking over her mouth. She didn’t need much coaxing. She opened wider for him, her hand going behind his head to hold him in place as he paid homage to her mouth.

Her dress had worked its way upward, allowing him to fit snugly into the junction of her thighs. His hands were at the sides of her hips, his thumbs circling her skin, loving the feel of it before he gripped her hips, tilted them upwards toward him, and pushed inward—he couldn’t seem to help himself. She pushed back and moaned, her hands moving toward his waist, frantic, demanding, trying to work themselves between their bodies, finding and unzipping his pants, working her hand inside. He caught her hand, but not before it ran over the full length of him. They both groaned at the contact, and he knew he’d better stop. He did, albeit reluctantly, pulling back and looking down at her, breathing hard.

“I’d better go,” he said, looking into her hungry eyes.

“No, stay,” she whispered, lifting her upper body to meet his again, her hands moving to his neck to pull him back to her.

“If I don’t leave now, I won’t,” he said, pushing himself up off the bed. His body was screaming its displeasure at having to stop.

He lifted his jacket, which had fallen to the floor, and put it on. He ran his hands through his hair and down over his face, taking a deep breath. He picked up her purse, setting it on the nightstand, and stood for a second, hands running through his hair again, an internal struggle taking place within him. He sighed.

“I’ll lock your door and drop the key in your mailbox, okay?” he said, standing beside her bed and looking down at her. She turned over onto her side, moving her head up and down, acknowledging his comment. Her lips were full from his kisses, her hair had come undone and now lay spread out over the bed. Her smooth dark-chocolate skin was a stark contrast to the white of her dress, to the white of her sheets, her white barely there panties. It was an invitation he would have willingly accepted under other circumstances, but he didn’t think it wise to pursue her. She was so not his type, and, as tempting as she was tonight, it would only be a one-night thing and she lived too close to him for that.