Sweet Seduction (5 page)

* * *

W
HY
HAD
HE
brought Daisy here? He never brought dates to Rosa's. This was his place.

But Jamie would do it all over again simply to watch Daisy eat. The woman certainly appreciated good pizza. Was there anything sexier than that?

Yes.

Daisy's red dress and the black panties that were hiding underneath.

But watching Daisy eat Rosa's specialty, the Margherita pizza, was pretty damn sexy. The slow deep breaths she took with each and every bite, consuming the food with all her senses. The way her eyes fluttered closed as she chewed, the little sounds of pleasure that escaped her—she probably had no idea she was making them.

The woman was having a love affair with his favorite pizza.

An image of Daisy's naked body moving—no, writhing—beneath him while she made those sounds, flashed so vividly across his brain that Jamie choked on his slice.

“You okay?” she asked, covering her full mouth.

“Fine.”

Liar. He was not fine. Not one bit. This woman, whom he barely knew, had an effect on him the likes of which he'd never experienced before. The rare combination of innocence, forthrightness and sensuality she projected brought out conflicting emotions in Jamie. On the one hand, he wanted to take care of her. Protect her. Keep her away from all the dickheads in the world.

Guys like him.

On the other hand...

Dammit. He fought the urge to back her against the wall, flip up her skirt, tear off those panties and take her, right here, right now.

Hard.

Jesus. It was insane.

“Do I have sauce on my face?”

“What?” Jamie asked.

“You keep staring at me. Am I covered in sauce?” She wiped her mouth. “God, this is so good.”

“No. You're fine.” He hoped she didn't hear his groan. The woman was better than fine. She was—Daisy licked her lips, her tongue sweeping over the plump, pink surface of her mouth, leaving nothing but a damp sheen behind—
evil
, that was what she was. Licking her lips like that? Pure evil.

It took every ounce of control not to grab her chin, pull her face close and taste those lips for himself.

Claim them.

She leaned toward him wearing a frown. What the hell was she doing?

“Actually, you've got a little bit—” she wet her napkin with that dangerously evil tongue of hers and reached for him “—right there.” She wiped his nose. “Got it.”

The woman had just given him a spit bath and had somehow made it sexy. With her so close—oh God, he could smell her, delicious and sweet, so incredibly sweet—Jamie lost it. His hand went to the back of her head, threading through the dark curls that had fallen loose during the ride to the restaurant. He tilted her the way he wanted her and kissed her, surprising her so that her mouth parted in shock, giving him free access to her luscious warmth.

Daisy tasted better than he could have imagined. Sweet and salty, soft and wet. At first he thought she might push him away, so he held on more tightly because he wasn't done. Not even close.

But she didn't push him away.

Daisy went from pressing her palms flat against his chest to gripping his shoulders to finally twining her fingers around his neck, holding him just as firmly as he was holding her. If he'd been confused about the signals she had been sending, there was no confusion now. Her lips moved as enthusiastically as his. Her tongue danced willingly between their mouths, tangling indulgently with his. Beckoning him inside. A temptress he could not deny.

“All packed now and ready to go. No problem. You pay me tomorrow, okay?” Rosa's cheerful grin was hard to focus on because Jamie's eyes were still glazed over from the kiss.

Was it a kiss? Jamie wasn't sure because it felt more like their mouths had just had hot, sweaty sex.

“Wow.” Daisy sat back, touching her lips, her eyes wide in disbelief.

She felt it, too? God. Jamie stood, holding out his hand for Daisy to take. “Come on. Let's go.”

“Where are we going?” she asked, looking dazed.

“Home.”

“Oh. Okay.”

“And, Daisy?”

“Yes?”

He draped his jacket around her, loving the way it hung from her feminine shoulders.

Mine.

“Between here and there, you need to decide if you want me to come up.”

“I do?”

“Yes.”

The cool Chicago evening greeted them when they walked out the door. Daisy paused beside the bike, looking up at him with an intoxicating mixture of wonder and wantonness. “What will happen if you come up?”

He leaned down and kissed her softly, exhibiting way more control than he had any right to show. “Dessert.”

“Oh. Well, there's lots of that. Pie, chocolate torte, lemon meringue. What would you like?”

“You.”

5

W
HAT WOULD YOU LIKE
?

You...

The words played on a loop in Daisy's brain for the duration of the fifteen-minute ride back to her place, intermixed with moments from THE KISS. That was how Daisy thought of it: in big, bold capital letters.

She had never,
ever
been kissed like that.

Oh, she'd been kissed. But that kiss? Sweet Hannah, that kiss had been something else.

It had felt primal, the way Jamie took hold of her, moving toward her with authority, sliding his mouth and tongue across her lips...past her lips. The man had owned her mouth, and while at first she'd been shocked, she'd soon allowed it.

Encouraged it.

Craved it.

Now he was asking if she wanted more, and apparently a crowd of tiny beings had set up shop between her ears, because they were singing a chorus of “Yes! Yes! Yes!”
in three-part harmony.

By the time Jamie pulled the bike up in front of Nana Sin's, the combination of the ride—fast and impatient—and the memory of the kiss—slow and sexy—had left Daisy's whole body throbbing.
Boom, boom, boom
, as though her heart was a bass speaker at a rock concert.

She was about to have sex. With Jamie Forsythe.

What?

She barely knew him. Not that she hadn't imagined it many times before the whole Colin/Jamie thing, but...

Don't overthink it, Daise. You're hot for him. He's hot for you. Now go upstairs and get some.

“Yes! Yes! Yes!”
piped up the people in her brain.

“Quiet,” Daisy whispered. She needed to think without the voices in her head distracting her.

“What did you say?” Jamie asked as he dismounted.

“Nothing.”

Instead of giving Daisy his hand, he leaned close, wrapped his strong hands around her waist and lifted her up and over the motorbike. As if she weighed nothing at all.

It was the sweetest, sexiest, most manly thing anyone had done for her.

Ever.

You don't expect me to carry you across the threshold, do you?
An uninvited memory of her ex-husband on their wedding night flashed inside Daisy's head, and insecurity swept over her. Once the image faded, she found herself staring up into Jamie's face. His eyes were dark with forbidden, seductive promises.

“You decided?”

She swallowed, or tried to, at least. “Can I think about it some more?”

He reached out to smooth her totally out of control hair. “If you have to think about it, the answer is no.” He kissed her softly and straddled the bike again, starting it up and revving the engine.

No!

He released the kickstand.

“Wait.”

He turned. “What?”

Daisy shrugged out of the jacket she was wearing. “Your jacket.”

“Keep it.”

“I can't do that.”

“Just until next time.”

Until next time.

Why did those words both thrill and sadden her?

Because she didn't want
next time
. She wanted right now.

“Jamie?”

“Yes?”

She bit her lip. “I'm glad you and Colin are different people.”

He grinned. “You and me both.”

She sidled closer. “And I...I forgive you for posing as him.”

“Good,” he said, and Daisy focused on his lips—such nice lips—as he spoke. “But I'm not sorry I did it. Not one bit.”

She raised her gaze to his. “Me, neither,” she said softly, resting her hands on his shoulders.

When he spoke next, the words seemed to come out of his mouth in slow motion. “Can I see you Monday?”

“Monday?” The word emerged, a tangible thing that Daisy could have touched if she wanted to.

“Yes.” The single syllable seemed to stretch on forever.

Why was everything moving so slowly? Daisy leaned down. “Monday would be nice.” She slid her hand to his chest, needing to feel the rumble of his deep voice within. Needing—

“Daisy?”

“Hmm?” She reached for his jaw, all rough against her fingertips. Such a nice jaw. Such a nice face. And his lips? God. So, so nice. She ran her thumb along his full lower lip.

“What are you doing?”

“This.” She closed the distance and kissed him softly, her lips barely touching his. Mmm. He smelled good. This was how he'd smelled that very first day. This was the man she remembered.

“Daisy...”

And then it was happening again.

THE KISS.

He threaded his fingers through her hair, gripping, holding her firmly in place, turning a soft kiss into something more. Their mouths enacted the crushing need that had been brewing between them since the moment they'd met. Jamie's mouth slanted over hers, licking, nibbling, biting, asking without words for her to tell him what she wanted. Demanding she give him the truth this time.

His tongue swept over her lips and into her mouth, taunting her with a preview of what might come if she was to invite him upstairs.

Heaven help her, she wanted what might come. Badly.

“Daisy,” he moaned, the word sounding like it was the cause of acute pain.

“Don't leave,” she whispered into his mouth, wanting to put him out of his misery...or share in it. “Please come up.”

* * *

O
H
,
THANK
G
OD
.

Jamie had geared himself up to drive away—after making sure Daisy was safely inside her apartment—but that was not what he wanted. Not at all. Jamie wanted Daisy in a way that made it hard to think, hard to be reasonable. Impossible to be chivalrous. The urge was more than just an urge for sex. It was...

To be honest, Jamie had no idea what it was. All he knew was it was powerful, and waiting for Daisy to unlock the outside door of the building was taking too long. He wanted to pick her up, throw her over his shoulder, kick in the bloody door, carry her upstairs—if they even made it that far—and slake this need that had him unable to think about or focus on anything other than getting Daisy naked.

“Sorry, stupid key.”

“Here, let me.”

“No. I got it.”

The door swung open, and Jamie followed Daisy into the entrance and up the narrow staircase to the apartment above the bakery. Thankfully it didn't take her quite as long to unlock the second door as the first.

With his hand on her back, he followed her inside, shut the door and spun her around.

“This is crazy,” Daisy whispered, dropping the jacket and reaching for him. She stood on her tiptoes and kissed him.

“So crazy.” He sifted his fingers through her hair—so soft. He kissed her in a way that was not so soft but that she seemed to like, based on the sounds she was making and the way she pressed her body against him.

When Daisy pulled away, he steeled himself for her to change her mind, even though the desire that infused her face was surely a reflection of his own. He touched her cheek. “Are you sure about this?”

She nodded while panting sweetly. “You?”

“Am I sure?” He wrapped an arm around her waist, holding her against him. Could she feel him? She must be able to, he was so hard. “You make me crazy. You know that, right?”

Her clouded eyes said no.

“From the moment I saw you at the gala, in this dress.” He ran a finger along the top of the bodice, dipping inside the low neckline—man, she had the softest skin. “All I could think about was peeling it off of you.”

She sucked in a breath when he dipped lower inside her lacy black bra. “I've been dying to know.” Her nipple hardened under his brief touch.

“To know what?”

He tilted her head back, exposing her throat. “What you taste like.”

“You're kidding,” she whispered.

“Nope.” He kissed just beneath her jaw and licked her neck. God. So sweet.

“Mmm.”

“Cotton candy.” He inched back to look at her.

Her lids were heavy, her lips parted, her cheeks flushed. Absolutely fucking gorgeous.

“Then you flashed those sexy black undies.” His hand slid down her back to cup her ass through her skirt. Wow. Nice ass.

A little
eep
slipped out of her mouth.

“And all I've been able to think about is ripping those suckers off.”

“Ripping?”

“Does that offend you?”

She shook her head back and forth, three little shakes that made her sexy, messy hair bounce around her shoulders. “I like ripping,” she said softly.

Oh, God.

Taking her face between his hands, he leaned down and kissed her again. Her lips were so soft. Soft, wet and inviting. Responsive, too. He was willing to bet that other parts of her would be the same. He led her into the tiny living room divided from the kitchen by a breakfast counter. After lifting her up onto the counter, Jamie snaked one hand possessively around the back of Daisy's neck and worked the other up under the skirt of her dress. Her bare legs felt like silk, especially high up on the inside of her thigh.

“Jamie.”

He swallowed his name, wanting to keep everything this woman did and said for himself.

No one but me.

Such a strange thought, but it passed quickly because his only focus was what lay beyond that delicate skin of her upper thigh. His found the edge of her panties and somehow, miraculously, stopped himself from working his fingers under the elastic to discover the treasure hidden inside. When she wriggled her ass toward his hand, in invitation not only to explore but to plunder, he gripped the inside of her thigh in an attempt to maintain control.

“Ahh,” she moaned, arching toward him in encouragement.

“Daisy?”

“Yes?”

“Where's your bedroom?”

Her eyes slid open. “Down the hall. Why?”

“If we don't go there right now, I'm going to take you here on this counter.”

Her response was to start kissing him again, as though she wanted him to take her on the counter. But that wasn't what Jamie wanted.

Actually, he did want her on the counter. In fact, it was killing him how badly he wanted it. But it wasn't good enough for their first time. He wanted Daisy beneath him. Her naked body flush with his, her legs parted for him, her hair spread out over the pillow, her mouth and pussy...all his.

Shit!

Scooping her up off the counter, he carried her down the hall because he needed her right now.

* * *

W
AS
IT
WICKED
to wish that Jamie had taken her on the kitchen counter? It had always been a fantasy of Daisy's, and she had thought it might come true tonight. Jamie had seemed willing enough. But then he'd picked her up and carried her down the hall—also tops on Daisy's fantasy list—and she forgot all about the counter. Once inside her bedroom, he set her down on her feet, and Daisy went to the night stand to turn on her lamp. When she turned, Jamie was there, towering over her. How the hell did he do it? How did he make her feel so...feminine? With his hands on her shoulders and his smoldering gaze never wavering, he slowly turned her around, swept her hair to one side and eased the zipper of her dress down. She shivered, not from cold but from the way he trailed a finger down her spine with every inch the zipper lowered until it was all the way down and his fingers swept back up her backbone before dropping away.

“Take it off.”

The words were soft. Commanding. Delicious. Her skin responded as if he'd tickled her with a feather, and she trembled as she shrugged the dress from her shoulders and wriggled it over her hips. It pooled around her feet.

“Wow.”

Was that reverence in his voice? No. Couldn't be.

She had no time to think about it as he turned her to face him again, hands on her hips, fingers slipping beneath the waistband of her panties.

“I can't decide if I want you to take those off or leave them on.”

Daisy couldn't decide, either. In fact, she couldn't think—she was too busy focusing on breathing, because it suddenly seemed like hard work.

“Leave them on. Lie down.”

She obeyed. Why? Who knew. Maybe it was the tone of his voice. Maybe it was the fact that her legs weren't willing to hold her up much longer.

She crawled onto the bed and lay on her back, arms stretched above her head, one knee bent. Watching, waiting, reminding herself to breathe.

Jamie stood at the foot of the bed, looking down at her, eyes hooded. Very, very still. Like a predator before it pounced.

Please pounce. Please don't torture me any longer.

But he didn't move. He simply stood there, staring.

“Why are you still dressed?” she asked, pushing herself up onto her elbows.

Her words broke his stillness. “Distracted,” he said, climbing onto the bed and gently pushing her back down before running his hands up the length of her calves to her knees, exerting pressure to open her wide. “The sight of you lying there distracts me. You're so beautiful, I don't want to ruin you.”

“Maybe I want you to ruin me.”

He pressed a kiss to the inside of her propped knee, his hands running higher, fingers plucking at her panties, taunting her. “Be careful what you wish for.” He lifted his head, and a thrill of excitement lanced through her at the intensity of his gaze.

“Can you do something for me?”

“Yes.”

“Show me what you like.”

“What do you mean?”

He slid his hands even higher, along her waist, up her sides to her shoulders and back down over her breasts. “Where do you like to be touched?” He worked his fingers beneath the lace of the right cup of her bra, grazing a nipple. “Show me how hard.”

She arched toward his touch. Why show him when what he was doing already felt so good? He skimmed his hands down her body again and sat back. “Touch yourself, Daisy. Let me watch.”