Seven Sexy Sins (4 page)

She paced the floor, hoping he wouldn’t be late. At ten minutes to seven, however, there was a knock at the door.

Heart pounding, she went over and opened it.

Rusty stood outside, leaning on the doorjamb, dressed in a black, casual short-sleeved shirt hanging loose over jeans, looking so thoroughly edible it made her mouth water. “Hey.” He held up a bottle of wine. “For you.” 

Her lips twitched as she took it. “Are you trying to get me drunk?” She backed away and let him in.

He followed her into the room. “Do I need to?”

“No.” She smiled, a little shyly, and put the bottle on the table.

He glanced around the room. “Wow, nice place. I was thinking it might be…”

“Seedy?”

He grinned. “Maybe a little.”

“I didn’t want it to be. I wanted it to be…nice.”

His warm gaze came back to her and fixed on her face before running briefly up and down her. “You look…nice.”

“Thanks. You too.” Her mouth had gone dry. Where on earth were they going to start?

He came closer to her and took one of her hands in his. “Are you okay?”

“Nervous, actually.”

He squeezed her fingers. “Want to go for a walk along the beach?”

She felt a wave of relief that he understood how she was feeling, but she hesitated. “I don’t know, should we? What if someone sees us?”

“We’re friends, love. You wouldn’t normally think twice about being seen with me.”

“Yes, but tonight… Half the women in New Zealand know what I’m getting up to.”

“Yes, but they don’t all know what you look like, right? Come on. Just a short walk. I’ll buy you an ice cream.”

“Okay.”

They went out and she locked the door, pocketing the key. The motel was right on the seafront, and he took her hand, led her along the row of shops to the ice cream bar and bought them both a cone.

They crossed over the road onto the beach, walking slowly down to the water as they ate their ice creams, and both slipped off their shoes, letting the cool water wash over their feet. Faith lifted her skirt to make sure it didn’t get wet. She saw him glance at her legs, but he didn’t say anything.

Was this just too weird? Usually they talked non-stop about all sorts of things, but now they were hardly speaking. She was conscious that he was one of her best friends. But, although she knew him well, she was also intensely aware of him next to her as she had never been before, his bare arm inches away from hers, as if he were magnetic and she were made of iron, inexorably drawn to him.

They reached a pohutukawa tree that overhung the beach, still heavy with its red Christmassy flowers and, finishing off his ice cream, he ducked under the branches and walked up to the trunk. She followed him, heart pounding as he indicated for her to turn around and face him. Dropping his shoes, he pushed her backward and she moved until her back was against the tree.

“What’s up?” He spoke gently, his eyes warm as if they’d captured some of the evening’s summer sun.

“Nothing.” 

“You’ve hardly spoken.”

Some of the rapidly melting ice cream ran onto her fingers and she licked them. His eyes followed her tongue, and she stopped and swallowed. “That’s what’s up.”

“What?”

“You’re looking at me like…”

He smiled slowly. “Like what?”

Her eyes met his. He was so gorgeous, he took her breath away. She wanted to smear the ice cream all over him and lick it off. “You know perfectly well what like. And it’s weird. This is how Lois Lane must have felt when she found out Clark Kent was Superman. It’s like, I know you so well but suddenly I feel I hardly know you at all.”

He chuckled. “Well, I’m not wearing my underpants over tights for anyone.”

She was too nervous to smile. “Rusty…”

“Are you having second thoughts?” He reached out and tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “You want me to back off?”

Her gaze rested on his lips. She desperately wanted him to kiss her again. “No. God, no. I’m just…nervous.”

He stepped closer to her, until he was almost—but not quite—touching her. “About what?”

“You,” she whispered, heart thudding. “And me. About what we’re going to do.”

He bent his head, his russet hair falling across one eye, and his lips brushed hers softly. “We don’t have to, if you don’t want to.”

“Rusty, if I don’t have you tonight, I swear I’m going to die.”

He laughed, slipped a hand behind her head and kissed her properly. She threw the rest of the ice cream away for the seagulls and brought her arms up around his neck. He pressed her to him, his other hand in the small of her back, and she felt him hard against the flat of her stomach.

Somehow, it helped lessen her nerves. She’d worried he was going to become aware she was still Dan’s younger sister and turn awkward, like the day after he’d kissed her on her eighteenth. But the feel of him against her made her realise he wanted her as much as she wanted him. They weren’t kids anymore—they were both adults, and he wanted her more than he was worried about Dan finding out. He wasn’t going to back off. This was really going to happen.

The kiss was the nicest she’d ever had, with the promise of the evening before them, the feel of the sand between her toes and the taste of Rusty’s chocolate ice cream in her mouth. They drew apart reluctantly, but a deep thrill reverberated through her at the thought that things weren’t going to end there. They were going to go back to the motel room, and then…

“Come on.” She couldn’t wait any longer. She picked up her shoes, grabbed his hand and led him, laughing, back across the road.

She let them into the motel room, and he closed and locked the door behind them. He surveyed her with a smile. “Should I sign the contract now?”

The contract—she’d nearly forgotten about that. “Yes, please.” She retrieved it from her bag and spread it on the small dining table. She gave him a pen, expecting him to give a quick scribble at the bottom, but instead he pulled out a chair and sat.

“I’m not signing till I’ve read it. In case you’ve slipped in another clause.”

“Like what?”

“You might want to keep me tied up in your room as a sex slave or something.”

“You want me to cross that one out?”

“I didn’t say that.” Smiling, Rusty put his chin on his hand and read.

Chapter Four

The contract filled one page, and she’d obviously typed it up and printed it herself. Rusty surveyed it with amusement.

I, Richard Henry Thorne (Rusty), agree to help Faith Alison Hillman (Faith) with research for the seven articles on the Seven Sexy Sins.

This research will extend to seven sexual encounters exactly, one sin at a time, no more, no less. After these seven encounters have been completed, the sexual relationship between Rusty and Faith will be terminated.

I promise to answer any questions Faith has relating to the Seven Sexy Sins and my participation in them. I also promise to do whatever she asks during these sexual encounters.

I promise not to disclose this sexual relationship to anyone, and I agree to keep the fact that Beau is my secret identity to myself. This sexual relationship exists only in the arena of the seven encounters—I promise not to let it affect any meeting I might have with Faith and my friends (i.e. no touching Faith up when she’s bending over, etc, even if I think nobody’s looking).

I promise to try my best not to let these seven sexual encounters affect my friendship with Faith when the relationship is over.

Signed:

Date: 

Rusty looked up, his eyes meeting Faith’s. She raised an eyebrow. “Well?”

“‘No touching Faith up when she’s bending over’?”

“I thought it best to be clear.”

“Does it sound like something I’d do?”

“Er…yeah.”

“Fair enough.” He looked down at the document and then back up at her. “‘I also promise to do whatever she asks during these sexual encounters’?”

“You have a problem with that?”

“I don’t know. Should I?”

Her smile softened. “All I meant was that I’d be grateful if you’d…keep on track. Not get off topic. Because I have a deadline to meet.”

He nodded. “Okay.” Sighing, wondering what he was letting himself in for, he wrote his name at the bottom and signed it. She took the contract and folded it, slipping it back in her bag.

Their gazes met. He smiled. He could see the pulse pounding in her throat and he knew she was nervous. “Come on.” They stood and he went over to the big TV at the foot of the bed and turned it on with the remote. There was a DVD player to one side and he turned that on, too, beckoning her over. “Okay, what’s up first?”

She pulled a DVD out of the bag. “It’s got to be
Ocean’s Eleven Inches.
That can’t be real.”

“Wow.” He laughed. “Absolutely.”

She put the DVD in, turning to look at him. “You…want to get undressed now?”

“Nuh-uh.”

She looked disappointed and relieved at the same time. “No?”

He went over to the kitchen area, undid the bottle of wine and poured her a glass, and got himself a Coke. Then he brought the drinks over to the bedside table and handed her the glass of wine. “Later on, I’ll be more than happy to help you off with your clothes. Now…I think we just need to relax.”

She smiled. “Okay.”

He climbed on the bed, plumped up the pillows and made himself comfortable. He patted the space on his left. Faith moved next to him—and put a clipboard complete with several sheets of paper and a pen beside her.

He raised an eyebrow. “What’s that?”

“Well, I’ve got to keep a record.”

He stared at her, startled. “Of what?”

“Length, firmness. Girth.”

“Girth?”

She started laughing. “Rusty, come on. I’m kidding. I’m just going to ask a few questions every now and again.”

“Jeez, Faith…”

Her grin faded as the music started, and she reached hastily for the remote control. “Turn it down…”

He held it away from her. “There’s nobody in the room next to us.”

“You could hear that on the beach a mile away.”

“It just sounds like a bad nineteen seventies disco, don’t worry about it.”

She laughed, turning it down slightly. “It does, a bit.”

“Well, these things aren’t really known for their soundtracks.”

“Or their production values,” she observed, raising an eyebrow at the tacky opening screen. Smirking, he leaned back, his arm along the pillows behind her.

He looked down as she curled up next to him. She sipped her wine, glancing up as she realised he was watching her. “What?”

He smiled. “Nothing.” He didn’t like to say she’d suddenly looked very young. Guilt stabbed him at the thought of what Dan would say if he knew what was going on. But he wasn’t taking advantage of her. She was a grown woman, for Christ’s sake, and she was going to go ahead with this research for her articles with or without him. Surely, she would be better carrying it out with him—a good friend who would look after her—than with some idiot she’d only known for five minutes.

Rusty knew he had a reputation in the bedroom, and he liked to think it was well-deserved, but he knew he had to be careful here. This was all about Faith and letting her explore her sexuality in a safe environment. He loved her—she was one of his best friends—and he had to make sure he let her lead the way and have fun with a man who wasn’t going to hurt her, or think about anything other than her pleasure.

He made himself think of the contract. She’d drawn it up specifically because she didn’t want anything long term—she only wanted seven sexual encounters, and after that, it would all be over. He didn’t have to worry about how he was going to end it, or how she would feel afterward. This was purely business, a good deed for a good friend.

He glanced at her, getting a perfect view down the front of her cleavage, and gave a silent groan.
Don’t kid yourself, dude
. This wasn’t all about helping Faith out. He’d thought about having sex with her for years. If this wasn’t a dream come true, he didn’t know what was.

He let his arm sink lower until he’d draped it around her shoulder. And smiled when she didn’t pull away.

Faith’s eyes nearly fell out of her head when the actor in
Ocean’s Eleven Inches
first appeared. Even clothed, his equipment was impressive. “Whoa, Jesus. You’ve got to be kidding me.” Rusty started laughing, and she looked up at him in alarm. “That’s got to be fake, right?”

“I suspect not, sweetheart, or the film would be probably called
Ocean’s Four-and-a-Half Inches
.”

“But… It’s not genetically possible, is it?”

“I think it’s possible, but not very common. Let’s just say I don’t think you should judge your future lovers—including me, by the way—by this standard.”

She laughed and kissed his cheek before turning back to the DVD. “I can’t take my eyes off it.”

“Does it turn you on?” 

“Ah… Not so much. More ‘elephant in the room’.”

He chuckled as she lifted up the clipboard and wrote a few notes. Then she leaned back against his arm and nibbled her pen as her eyes went back to the screen. “I’m guessing these sorts of films aren’t big on plot.”

“Oh no, there’s a story. You just have to dig deep.” He pointed at the screen and she had a sudden vision of how he must look in the classroom, explaining the Reformation or the Renaissance or something. “You see, this one’s about a young lady, who’s quite clearly got lost in the big city…”

“In a very short skirt…”

“In a very short skirt and with surprisingly little material in her top, and she’s wandered into this paper manufacturers, and this very kind man has agreed to help her out…”

“By removing her clothes…”

“Yes, by helping her rearrange her clothing…”

“I’m guessing it’s quite cold in the warehouse.”

He grinned. “And now she’s dropped something down the back of the photocopier…”

“Yes, and she’s reaching over to pick it up, and—whoa! Jeez!” They both winced. “That came out of nowhere,” said Faith, eyes wide.