The Virgin Sex Queen (12 page)

“You touched
her heart?” Mike queried.

“No! Her bum.
It’s sort of, you know, heart shaped. Big heart.” He flexed his
fingers, remembering the feel of it. “Soft.”

No comment.
Great.

“Then I sort of
touched her breasts. Underneath.” Man, she had big boobs. Huge
handfuls. He just bet they’d spill over his hands, they were so
big.

He could feel
his mouth water at just the thought of the nipples tipping those
boobs. Were they big and red or small and pink? Big and pink? Small
and red? Whatever, he bet they tasted as sweet as strawberries that
went up the whazoo.

Whoa!
Jerking upright in the seat, he took a deep breath. “Right, where
are we going?”

“Patrolling.”
Mike didn’t even look at him.

“Right. Geez.”
He cleared his throat. “Let’s pull into a service station, I need a
drink.” And to pull himself together.

Jesus, he was
getting a boner on the job.

Maybe Mike was
right, he needed to get laid.

Waiting in line
to get takeaway coffees, he had time to get himself under
control.

Cripes, Sophie
was just a friend who wrote romances. Nothing special. Big, pretty,
intriguing, but just a friend. He was reading too much girly porn,
it and she were messing with his head and his manly ways. He had to
pull himself together, get back to his usual rhythm.

Yeah, that was
all. Before he ended up in a nuthouse.

Getting back
into the car with the two hot coffees, he handed one to Mike. “I’m
giving up the girly porn, Mike.”

Mike just took
the lid off his takeaway cup and blew in it.

“Going back to
my male roots. Bugger this girly stuff. And tonight? Tonight I’m
going to the gym and get me a gym bunny. Gonna take her home and
boink her brains out. How’s that for a plan?” Satisfied, he sat
back in the seat and swirled the coffee around in the takeaway
cup.

Mike took a sip
of coffee. “Home.”

“Yep.”

“Where Sophie
is staying.”

“Shit.”

Getting home
late that night, Alan closed the garage door and entered the house.
His uniform was in his gym bag and the gym clothes he wore were
sweaty from his workout.

Why the hell
Mike had to accompany him to the gym he didn’t know. Probably to
embarrass him by lifting three tonnes without breaking a sweat.
That was why no chick had bothered with Alan, they were all too
busy ogling the big cop with muscles like a world champion weight
lifter.

To be truthful,
Alan hadn’t actually approached any of the women and for sure
there’d been some real lookers. Yet somehow he just wasn’t
interested. Obviously too tired.

A few things
had also reared their ugly little head. While he stood there
lifting weights, watching another young bloke chatting up a gym
bunny, he’d suddenly felt a whole lot wiser. And a whole lot
stupid.

Geez, did he
look as desperate as that young bloke, going from gym bunny to gym
bunny, looking for a chick for the night? Pathetic. No. No way was
he that sad. Was he? He had a bad feeling. No, he was different. He
was just tired, that was all. Hard day at work and things.

Like
stalking.

God, he
couldn’t believe he’d actually done that. What had come over him?
Why the hell had he suddenly become all jealous and he-man and
chest beating, taking off to check that no other man was hanging
around Sophie? What a loser.

But regardless,
the fact remained that he wouldn’t take anyone home for the night,
he was too tired.

Bullshit
. The truth was he couldn’t bring a woman home with
Sophie in the house. That was just plain crass.

Okay, another
truth. For the first time since he’d joined the gym, none of those
gym bunnies had done anything for him. Not a stirring in the loins,
not a licking of the lips, not a sidelong glance at long legs.

Because of
Sophie. Because all he could think of was Sophie in the arms of
another man and he was ready to do some serious damage. That wasn’t
an option, so he lifted weights and ran on a treadmill until he
thought his legs would fall off and his knuckles would be dragging
on the ground behind him when he walked.

The whole time
Mike said not one word, just lifted weights, stayed by Alan’s side,
grunted goodbye outside the gym and drove home to his beloved
wife.

While Alan
drove home alone and walked into the house alone. Threw his uniform
into the wash basket and went for a shower. Alone. And noticed that
Sophie’s door was slightly open. He could hear her voice, soft and
low, and he caught a glimpse of her walking away from the window
with a mobile phone to her ear. She disappeared from sight.

Okay, the sight
of her caused something inside him to quicken, but that was all.
She was just his housemate’s cousin, nothing more.

Entering the
bathroom, he shut the door and then the torture began. The air was
still damp, the warmth of it carrying the scent of some kind of
flowery soap. The shampoo sitting on the end of the bath was
strawberry scented -
holy cow, strawberries again
! - and on
the bench where he and Sam had their stuff scattered was a little
toilet bag. Just a small one, pink with green flowers.

He couldn’t
resist it. Hooking his finger into one side, he pulled it open and
peeked in. Toothpaste and toothbrush holder, deodorant, a tube of
mascara, a tube of lipstick, some cotton buds, a wide-toothed comb,
a hairbrush and a bottle of perfume.

Curiously he
took out the perfume and uncapped it, holding it up for a sniff.
Yeah, that scent was all Sophie.

Returning the
perfume bottle to the toilet bag, he caught sight of himself in the
mirror. Now what was he doing? Going through a chick’s toilet
bag!

Impatiently he
shoved the bag aside, determined to stop being so bloody stupid. He
was like a gawky teen with his first crush. Goddamnit, he was a man
and as such he could control himself! No more sniffing women’s
perfume, checking out their toilet bags, and no more reading bloody
erotic romances!

No freakin’
more.

Chapter 4

Standing at the
window, Sophie saw Alan’s car pull into the driveway and disappear
out of sight into the garage. He’d been gone when she woke up that
morning, apparently visiting a friend or something before going to
work. Because of the lateness of the time, she wondered if he’d had
to do overtime.

Phone to her
ear, she listened with half an ear to her Aunt Tish moaning about
Sophie’s latest erotic book. As usual, it was filthy, perverted,
and Aunt Tish wanted to know when the next one was released.

“August.”
Turning, Sophie walked back across the bedroom.

“Too long. Why
is the length of time between releases so long?”

“Because
there’s more than just my book coming out,” Sophie repeated for the
millionth time. “I’m not the only author.”

“You’re a big
seller. You’re important.”

“Aunt Tish,”
Sophie said dryly, “I’m a small fish in a very big pond.”

“Don’t care,”
retorted Aunt Tish, “you’re my small fish.”

“Aw,
sweet.”

After a few
more minutes of chatting, Aunt Tish hung up and Sophie lowered the
mobile phone to the bedside table. From the bathroom right across
the hallway she could hear the sound of the shower.

Alan in the
shower.

Alan
naked
in the shower.

Alan naked in
the shower with all that water just sliding down his body, slicking
across those muscles, those dips and intriguing crevices, dripping
from his sac… Grabbing pen and notebook, Sophie sat down on the bed
and started jotting down impressions. One thing for sure, Alan was
proving to be an inspiration.

Another thing
for sure was that he was dominating her thoughts lately. Since
yesterday, to be truthful. Since the episode in the kitchen when
she’d been pressed against him, his hands on her bottom, his thumbs
grazing her breasts.

Lowering the
pen, Sophie took a deep breath. Oh God, she was never going to
forget the sensation of his hands on her. Okay, it wasn’t bare
flesh on bare flesh, but it was the closest she’d ever gotten to it
in a romantic way.

Crying on
Ghost’s shoulder couldn’t be counted. His hug was reassuring,
comforting, more big brother like, and Alan’s embrace was, well,
anything but. It was something that even now, a day and some hours
later, still had her nipples peaking, her breath coming faster, and
her hands itching to slide beneath his shirt to feel that hot, hot
skin.

As for his lips
brushing against her neck, oh sweet mother mercy, how easy would it
have been to turn her head, to have her lips waiting for him? How
would that feel?

Sophie fanned
her face at the thought. Bloody awesome, she bet.

However, she
wasn’t so sure that Alan had felt the same way about it. He’d
high-tailed it to his room before she’d returned to the kitchen,
and then he’d kept his distance, smiling politely across the room
at her, joking with Chelsea and her husband, chatting to Sam,
basically anything but mentioning or even referring slightly to
what had happened.

Obviously it
had meant nothing to him and that shouldn’t be a surprise. Alan was
the proverbial chick chaser. The man had chased and bedded more
women than probably even he knew. He’d been doing it since high
school and there’d been a whole lot of years since for him to carve
a hell of a lot more notches on his belt.

Hmmmm. Did he
keep count? Lifting her head, Sophie gazed at the partially open
door. Did he think of women as conquests? That didn’t sit well.
She’d rather think of him simply loving female company and enjoying
a roll in the hay than seeing women as notches on a belt. A
lady-lover she could understand, but a lady-user, that was a whole
other story.

The sound of
the shower turning off had her thoughts going from Alan the Chick
Chaser to Alan the Naked Hunk drying himself, running that towel
down all those swells and valleys and length…

Crossing to the
window, Sophie yanked it open all the way and leaned against the
windowsill, taking deep breaths and welcoming the cool air that
slid over her suddenly heated face. Cripes, never before had she
ever got so aroused by just the thought of a man. Even her
fantasies on paper had never made her feel like this.

Because this
was the real thing. For the first time in her life, a man, a real
live, breathing man, had her aroused, had her thinking things about
him that she’d only daydreamed.

This was not
the same, not at all.

Even worse, it
was going to be something she wouldn’t experience, not with Alan.
Maybe one day with some man, but not with Alan, and even though
she’d never experienced any intimacy at all she just knew it
wouldn’t be the same with any other man except him.

Scowling, she
yanked the curtain closed. “Get a bloody grip! Bloody teenage
crush! What are you? Twelve?” Swinging around, she stalked across
the room. She needed a drink, something cold, something very
cold.

Throwing back
the door, she came face to face with Alan and whoo boy! It was
enough to make her breath catch. Standing there with a towel
wrapped loose and low around lean hips, the muscles in his chest
and abdomen showed off to perfection with a slight dampness from
the shower, his dark hair dishevelled and damp, that rebellious
lock falling across his brow, Alan was every inch the wet
dream.

Hello, wet
dream.

Hello, wet
panties.

Sophie gulped,
her gaze following the droplet of water that slid down one perfect
pec to tremble on the tip of a brown male nipple before it fell
off.

Her mouth
watered.

“Soph?”

Blinking, she
dragged her gaze up that wonderful chest and higher until she met
dark eyes watching her narrowly, a little distantly.

Narrowly?
Distantly? Well, there was that something cold. It sluiced through
her like water on a fire. Here she was having lurid fantasies about
him and there he was obviously not particularly wanting her around
him.

Then he smiled
slightly, those dark eyes warming, “G’day, Soph.”

There went some
little tingles through her.
God, girl, get a grip!
“Hey,
Alan.”
Play it cool. He’s playing it cool. Yesterday meant
nothing to him.
“Late shift?”

“Nah. Hit the
gym after work.” He hefted some dubious-smelling clothes in one
hand.

“Ah.” Not quite
knowing what to say apart from
can I lick that droplet running
down your most excellent abdo?
Sophie cleared her throat.
“Right.”

“You okay?” His
head canted to one side, that warm gaze intensifying, and she could
almost see the cop creep into him as his gaze studied her. “You’re
a little flushed.” Those eyes became all cop. “Someone bothering
you, Soph?”

“What?”

“You were on
the phone when I came in.”

“Oh. No, Ghost
doesn’t bother me.”

“Ghost?” Dark
brows shot up.

“My friend.
He-”

“He?” This time
dark brows lowered in a frown.

“Well, yes.
Ghost is another writer.”

“Of what?” Now
there was an undercurrent, but it was all from Alan’s side and it
wasn’t friendly.

“What’s the
problem?” Sophie was starting to feel irritated.

“It’s a simple
question.”

“Doesn’t feel
like it.”

The sudden hard
gleam in Alan’s eyes wasn’t reassuring. “Why are you avoiding the
question?”

“Why are you so
interested?”

“Why are you so
secretive?”

Sophie’s mouth
dropped open. “I am not secretive.”

“So answer the
question.”

Folding her
arms beneath her breasts, Sophie glared up at him. “I feel like I’m
being interrogated!”