Stripping It Down (4 page)

The tight walls of her pussy clamped down in response, clenching around him as her own orgasm pulsed through her core with such force she might have drowned if he hadn't been holding her up.

He cradled her against him as he nuzzled his mouth against her neck. Though she wasn't one for postcoital cuddling, Kit allowed herself to enjoy his tender affection. He was preventing her from drowning after all.

"Aw, shit," he muttered.

Not exactly what she was expecting him to say.

Abruptly he pulled out and levered out of the pool as she gradually became aware of what he must have heard. Motors running. Doors slamming. Drunken laughter. "C'mon, unless you want to be tonight's late night entertainment."

Kit considered herself adventurous when it came to sex, but she had no desire to be caught in the act by ten of her closest friends.

Hurrying as much as possible on sex-weakened legs, Kit awkwardly heaved herself up and onto the patio.

Jake gathered up their clothes and wrapped her in an oversize pool towel before tucking one around his hips. Pulling her over to a set of sliding glass doors away from the main entry, he whispered a quick prayer, followed by a sigh of relief when the door slid open without protest.

Someone cranked up the stereo as they padded down the dark hallway.

How was she supposed to get to her room unnoticed when she had to cut through the living room? The hall light snapped on, and heavy footsteps echoed against the tiles. Grabbing her arm, Jake pulled her into a bedroom, dimly lit by a single lamp on the heavy wooden bedside table.

His bedroom, she quickly concluded when she saw the shirt he'd been wearing earlier carelessly tossed across the foot of the queen-size bed.

Grinning like a son of a bitch, he tumbled her back on the mattress and flung her towel across the room. "Guess you'll have to hide out in here."

***

"Morning."

Kit's eyes flew open in horror at the sound of Jake's sexy, sleep-roughened voice in her ear.

How could she have possibly stayed the entire night in his room?

First rule of casual sex, never sleep over. It implied a certain level of intimacy and always resulted in an awkward morning after. Not that she hadn't tried to leave. After their second round, Jake had done what any normal man does after climax and had rolled over and started snoring. She'd even waited a good ten minutes to make sure he was really out.

But the second her feet hit the floor his hand had closed around her wrist. "Where do you think you're going?" he'd asked. "I'm not done with you yet."

And he'd tucked her underneath him and slid inside her as though he hadn't already come twice in the space of two hours.

Afterward, she'd been so exhausted, like an idiot she'd rolled over and fallen asleep.

God, she hoped she hadn't snored or drooled. Nothing like the harsh light of day to take the polish off a lover. She risked a look over her shoulder.

Of course, Jake would look perfect. Instead of looking like a sleepy slob, he looked gorgeous with his dark hair sticking straight up and beard stubble darkening his jaw. Sexy and relaxed in way that made a girl dream of long Sunday mornings spent cuddling and making love and pretending that the rest of the world didn't exist.

The moronic, naive, seventeen-year-old that lurked inside her was making her presence known. Making love? As if! She needed to get the heck out of there.

"Mmm, don't leave," he cajoled, rubbing a very impressive – and tempting – morning erection against the inner curve of her thigh. She glanced at the clock, relief mingling with disappointment as she remembered the spa treatments the girls had scheduled for today.

"Gotta go," she said briskly, forcing herself from the all too cozy bed and scrambling into her clothes. "We have spa appointments, and besides," she tossed him a naughty glance over one shoulder, "I'm sore."

His green eyes sparked with wicked heat. "Sure you don't want me to kiss it and make it better?"

While the idiot seventeen-year-old inside Kit pleaded with her to stay, the Kit who was older and knew better waved him off and got out of the room while she still could.

***

Monday morning, Kit woke up and cursed, finding herself in the same place she'd been yesterday morning: Jake's bed.

Dammit.

No matter how hard she fought it, she hadn't been able to keep herself from falling asleep burrowed up against his oversize chest and sleeping like a dead woman all the way through to morning. This morning she hadn't even noticed when he got up. But he must have been up for a while since his side of the bed was cold. Thank God for small favors. She didn't think she could fake immunity from his sexy morning-after self just now.

Yesterday after the women had returned from getting buffed, oiled, and polished within an inch of their lives, she'd been determined to keep a little distance. The last thing she wanted was to start acting all couple-y and give everyone the wrong impression. Yet somehow she'd spent the evening glued to his side before they retired shortly after dinner.

She sighed and rolled over, silently reprimanding herself for once again falling prey to Jake Donovan's considerable charms. And despite Kit's attempts to stifle her with neglect and copious amounts of alcohol, that ridiculous teenage girl who had so foolishly imagined herself in love with Jake so many years ago kept clamoring for attention.

Going on and on about how this had to be fate, bringing them together like this, her agenda fueled by Jake's constant attention and considerable sexual skill. Look at the way he stares at you when he thinks you're not looking, teenage-idiot Kit crowed. Listen to the way he laughs at your jokes. Isn't it nice to be with a guy who actually gets your sense of humor? And talk about gorgeous...You have to admit after all these years it's fun to be with a guy who's so big and strong and...dominant.

Kit conceded that point. For years the guys she hooked up with tended to the slender, wiry side, the exact opposite of Jake's six foot four of imposing brawn. At an athletic five seven, she wasn't particularly petite herself, and she had to admit it was kinda fun feeling almost dainty in bed.

But so what? So he was still incredibly hot, and his sexual technique had improved by several orders of magnitude. Jake, she reminded herself firmly, was still the original dog that had crushed the romantic spirit of her seventeen-year-old self, screwing her literally and figuratively without so much as a follow-up phone call. And she was no longer an innocent girl in the throes of a wicked crush, but a grown woman who knew better than to put much stock in a handful of orgasms. Once they got on their flights this afternoon – he to Boston, she to San Francisco – the last two days would fade to a vague memory of hot sex under the Mexican moon.

Not bothering to hunt for her clothes, Kit snatched up one of Jake's XXL T-shirts and pulled it over her head. It hung past her knees, providing plenty of coverage for her walk of shame back to her own room.

She tried not to notice the masculine soap and sandalwood scent that clung to the soft cotton as she padded down the hall. Nevertheless, she couldn't ignore the fierce pulse beat that picked up between her thighs at the thought of nuzzling her nose into the naked skin of his chest, the silky underside of his arm, his hair-roughened inner thigh...

As she crept across the living room, thankful that she'd yet to encounter any other guests, she picked up the low rumble of his voice coming from the kitchen. She didn't mean to eavesdrop, and wouldn't have even stopped if she hadn't heard her name.

She crept into the adjoining dining room, and from her vantage next to the china hutch she could hear them clearly without being seen.

"She's one hot piece of ass." Kit was pretty sure that was Dave, her least favorite of the groomsmen. Unfortunately he was also the groom's brother, so he had to be included in the wedding party. He'd struck Kit as an overgrown frat boy trying to perpetually relive the glory days of the Sigma Chi house, so she wasn't surprised or particularly offended to hear his assessment of her. "Is she as wild as she looks? I bet she's a screamer."

Kit tensed, bracing herself for Jake's contribution to the locker room talk, telling herself she didn't give a crap what he had to say.

"If you say one more word about her, I'm going to take this spatula and shove it straight up your ass." Even more shocking than his words was his tone: low and lethal and definitely not messing around.

"Hey man," Dave's voice sounded garbled, like someone was choking him, "I was only kidding. It's not like I'm talking about your wife or anything –"

Jake's next words stunned her. "As far as you or anyone else in this house are concerned, Kit is mine, got that? And if you so much as look at her again before we leave today, I'll feed you your own testicles."

Kit's shoe slid from her nerveless fingers, its impact unnaturally loud in the tiled, high-ceilinged room.

"What the –"

Crap! She made a mad dash across the dining room and down the hall to the room she hadn't slept in for the past two nights.

How dare he be so possessive, she fumed. Kit is mine. Whatever! She wasn't anyone's, thank you very much, and one weekend of – albeit fantastically amazing – sex was not about to change that.

Especially when it involved Jake Donovan. Did he really think, after all these years and the way he had treated her, he could waltz back into her life and give her a few mind-blowing orgasms, and she'd allow herself to be dragged back to his cave?

Fat chance. It was time Jake got his own bitter taste of reality.

Chapter 4

What is it about an old flame that really gets our engines revved? Why is it that some guys make us come back for more, even when they don't deserve it? Me, I'm not one to offer up second chances. Yet I spent the most incredible sun-and sex-soaked weekend of my life with a guy who, based on his past performance, never should have gotten within an inch of my panties again in this lifetime. But boy had this dog learned some new tricks – enough to make this girl howl...

Kit groaned in frustration as a knock sounded at her door. Who could possibly be here at nine P.M. on a Tuesday night? Maybe if she pretended not to be home, whomever it was would go away. One thing she did not need right now was an interruption. Not only did earnings reports start tomorrow, but also in less than twelve hours she had a deadline on another article in her ongoing investigation into local biotech companies that had fudged clinical study data on pharmaceuticals they were developing.

She clicked on a URL and pulled up yet another article on the fun things various drugs could do to one's liver, dreaming wistfully of the day when she could write things like "Stripping It Down" and get paid enough to leave the dry, clinical world of business reporting.

The pounding at her door continued. It was probably her neighbor Margot from across the hall wanting to watch TV since Kit had cable and Margot didn't. She slid her bare feet into the red fuzzy scuffs under her desk and shuffled over to the door.

"You can come in," she grumbled as she flung open the door without bothering to look through the peephole, "but you have to keep quiet."

"If I remember correctly, last time I saw you, you were the one making most of the noise."

Kit stepped back in shock at the sight of Jake Donovan in her doorway, a take-no-prisoner's grin stretched across his unfairly handsome face.

"What the hell are you doing here?" she snapped before she could stop herself. She thought for a split second she was hallucinating. In the week since she'd returned from Cabo, Jake had never been far from her thoughts. Especially when she'd written the last two installments of "Stripping It Down," during which she'd revisited every delicious moment she'd spent at the mercy of Jake's sexual potency.

Ignoring her question, he pushed his way past her and into her apartment without an invitation. Closing the door behind them, he caught her chin in one hand and tilted it up to meet his kiss. "I never did get to kiss you good-bye," he said as he released her, licking his lips as though savoring her taste.

She felt a wash of shame across her cheeks. After she'd heard his outburst in the villa's kitchen, she'd quickly packed her stuff and asked one of the maids to call her a taxi. After sneaking out the back entrance, she'd left for the airport without so much as a good-bye to anyone. Especially not Jake.

Not the best form, she conceded, and definitely not the move of a woman who was as nonchalant about Jake as Kit told herself she was. But Jake was getting ideas, as evidenced by his outburst to Dave, and at the time Kit could think of nothing but getting far, far away before he foolishly tried to make something out of their meaningless weekend fling.

And the fact that he was in her apartment, unannounced and uninvited, a mere week later warned her that Jake might not have taken their weekend as casually as she would have liked. "You flew across the country just to kiss me good-bye? Should I worry that I have a stalker on my hands?"

Jake chuckled and walked into the living room, tossing his suit jacket across the back of the couch as though he did it every day. As he loosened the knot of his tie, she couldn't help admiring the way his shoulders strained the brushed cotton of his button-down shirt, the way his suit pants draped over the tight muscles of his butt. He leaned his weight against the back of her putty-colored sofa, heat crackling from his eyes as they scanned her from her messy ponytail to her ratty red slippers.

She fought the urge to cringe. Of course, Jake would be dressed like a GQ wet dream while she had to answer the door in a threadbare T-shirt she'd picked up for free at a conference somewhere and a pair of ancient boxer shorts. Not that she cared what he thought of how she looked – she wasn't sure she wanted him here at all, and the less desirable he found her the less likely this situation would get complicated.

Never mind the fact that her nipples had risen up like bullets at the first flick of those cool green eyes.

"Don't worry, Kit," he said, "I won't be boiling any bunnies. My firm is working on a deal out here and they want me in the San Francisco office for the next month or so."