Ahead in the Heat (7 page)

A
nnie walked away. The second Sean strode off down the street and left her behind, she piled into her car and fucking
bounced
. She wasn’t a doormat. Had never, ever been something even remotely close to a doormat. She took an hour-long drive down the coast, to a little hole-in-the-wall that served the best chili cheese fries she’d ever put in her mouth. It was the avocado ranch sauce that made them special. They were worth the drive, but she only made it when she had major decisions to work through. Carbs and cheese always seemed to make thinking go easier.

They didn’t fail her this time either.

Then she went back. She sat on his front step. Exactly where a doormat went.

Except this was different. All the decisions she’d made last night had flown right out the window. After she’d talked things through with her mom, it had all seemed set in stone. By the time she woke up alone in her bed, dreams of Sean barely fading into the background, she’d thought she was happy with her choice. When he’d bailed on their physical therapy appointment, she’d only gone to his house in order to hold him to the schedule, like she’d threatened him when they’d started this journey. Just
because he was progressing rapidly and healing at a remarkable pace was no reason to slack off.

But he’d been a mess. A complete, under-the-surface head case. He’d been . . . accessible. Vulnerable, though, good God, she’d never say that word to his face. He’d probably snap. But he needed someone right now, and that made her . . . need him in return.

He was a dick. But she wanted to play with his cock.

Normally, she’d think poorly of a woman who made a sweeping decision based on gonads. There were plenty of penises in the sea, and they all worked more or less the same, with varying levels of attractiveness. Or so she’d figured.

With Sean . . . everything was new. She was tempted in a way she hadn’t felt in years. Since Terry, if she was really, really honest with herself.

At least the way he was healing meant she wouldn’t feel guilty about turning him over to a different physical therapist.

She’d thought she didn’t get those butterflies in the chest, stomach-swooping tingles anymore, because they were a teenager sort of thing. Maybe other women kept getting them, because God knew she’d heard plenty from her friends. And she wasn’t completely immune to attraction and sexuality, which was why she’d thought she was okay. She’d thought she was healed.

Maybe she hadn’t been.

The way she felt when Sean kissed her gave her stronger feelings than she could remember . . . ever. She was someone new with his mouth on her. Someone who wanted everything.

She was someone who thought she deserved everything.

Starting with Sean.

The sun had dipped behind the house at her back by the time Sean trudged up his front walkway. He looked exhausted. His shoulders drooped, and he walked with his head down, which was not at all like him. His hands were shoved in his pockets. He was ruining the line of his handsome trousers.

That he didn’t care said something terrible about his mood.

“Didn’t get the answers you wanted?” She was sitting with her back against the door and her knees up. Her hands fidgeted, nail digging into cuticle. She put a hand flat on the wood. Only when she felt how the sun had baked the pale gray paint did she also realize how fucking sweaty her hands were. Her stomach had taken up residence somewhere around her clavicle. The blood roared in her ears in a swoosh-swoosh that said her pulse was high. Stupidly high.

“Why are you still here?”

When she couldn’t make herself answer his question, he gave a laugh that wasn’t anything close to actual laughter before unlocking the door. “Pretty sure that when someone dismisses another person, they don’t see each other again. I’ve been here before, after all.”

“Who’s ever dismissed Sean Westin?” Incredulousness felt like weightlessness. She darted around him, stopping in the foyer to rise up on her toes. Or maybe she felt weightless because she was breathing
too fast. She was going to make herself pass out if she kept it up.

His mouth twisted in a bitter smile. “Plenty. But they’ve got another thing coming if anyone expects to do it again. I’m not putting up with that shit anymore.”

He was in a bad place. That much was crystal clear. She couldn’t help herself; she looped her fingers around his wrist. Well, not that she could wrap her grip completely around him. He had a man’s wrists, the bones solid and sturdy, perfectly contrasted with the smooth cuff of his expensive dress shirt.

What if her traitorous girly bits had aimed too high? What if last night’s kiss had been an anomaly, born of his shitty night and her invasiveness in trespassing in his office, and this morning’s had only been about that vulnerability she’d seen? Maybe he didn’t actually want her. He’d been off his guard. Rattled.

She’d just have to rattle him again. “Come on,” she said, tugging him toward the stairs.

Even in something so simple as stairs, the existence of Sean’s money all but glared at her. They looked like glass, supported with only the tiniest slivers of metal that did absolutely zero to hide the view of the floor dropping away beneath them.

“I almost wish I were wearing a skirt.” She darted her best cheeky grin over her shoulder.

Sean’s confusion had disappeared, giving way to something thunderous. His eyebrows lowered, and those bladelike cheekbones were even sharper as the skin drew taut. Bright slashes of color across the tops
made him look like a savage prince. But then, he always looked like a prince.

“No, you don’t,” he said in a low voice. “You’re not the type. In fact, I bet if
I
had been the one to suggest that, you’d have given me the finger.”

“You’re probably right.” Her throat felt so tight, she was going to choke on something as simple as words. There was a difference between wanting something and being bold enough to take it.

It had been so long, and to be truthful, it had never been like this. Her fingers were still looped around his wrist, but she wasn’t sure if that was her pulse or his she felt rushing at her fingertips.

When they came to the open door of his bedroom, she almost chickened out. She froze for a half step but then just as quickly stumbled over her own feet to keep going. His bedroom was sparse to the point of being a little frightening. Only one picture on the wall, of a wave that Annie couldn’t identify off the top of her head. No surprise, since she’d never really gotten to the traveling phase of competition. She’d been only a young local when she’d been all but broken by the pro industry.

His bed was huge, but it hit the very opposite end of the spectrum from hers. His was stripped down with only a couple extra-long pillows and two carefully layered blankets in shades of blue.

“What are we doing, Annie?” His voice was a growl that stroked down her back and made her skin tingle. But he wasn’t pulling away. There was no real way she could drag him along if he didn’t want to go.

She stopped with Sean still behind her. Still
attached by her hand and his wrist. Blindly, without looking, she twisted her palm around and laced their fingers together. Pulled him closer behind her. He stepped near enough that she could feel his presence with every one of her cells straining toward him.

Her breath, which had been so frantic moments ago, stuttered to a stop.

“I won’t touch you, Annie,” he said. No, that wasn’t mere words. That was a growl. A low-down dirty promise made with innocent words, even when he was saying the very opposite of what she wanted.

A little smile pulled at the corners of her mouth. She bit it back, but it was a good thing Sean was behind her. He’d have seen it in her eyes, and he was treating this moment as if it were dire. Like they were about to jump off the edge of the building. Even though it was soft beach sand beyond the edge of the deck, the three-story drop would still hurt.

She’d never been suicidal. Not even when she’d thought everything was lost. She sure as fuck wasn’t about to start when she had a man like Sean Westin so close to her grasp.

“I’m serious,” he continued. “I’m the last person in the world you want to get involved with right now. I have no idea what kind of shit is coming down on my head.”

“None of that says you don’t want to be with me.”

His harsh intake of breath was enough for her. She knew what that meant. He wanted her as badly as she wanted him. “I don’t take things lightly, Sean. People will wonder why I’ve stepped away from
you as a client, and it won’t be a reflection on you. They’ll say I couldn’t hack your situation.”

“Then why?” He rasped the words. His hand clenched on hers. A flutter of sensation over her right hip was his other hand seeking her out.

“Because I can’t stay away from you.” That was half the truth, at least. She turned so she could face him. His eyes were bright and blue, and she wanted to drown in them. “Because I think you’re just as damaged as I am.”

He shook his head once, then again. “Fuck, Annie, you’re not—”

She lifted her hand and put her fingertips across his mouth. His lips were soft, but she pressed hard enough that she could feel the resistance of his teeth behind them. She wanted to test his limits. She wanted her own boundaries blown away.

Stepping back a foot, she slipped free of him. She hooked her thumbs in the hem of her T-shirt. “You’re not my client anymore.”

“You’ve made that more than clear.” A muscle twitched at the side of his jaw. His gaze was locked on her hands like a missile on its target. His fists opened and clenched at his sides.

“Then I can do this now.” She pulled her shirt off in one quick move, but she didn’t let go of it. She held it in front of her hips, and her arms framed her breasts. “I’d have worn a prettier bra if I’d known what I was gonna do today.”

He had a cheeky, smart-ass smile. When he took a step toward her, the intent behind his eyes made her heart take a fluttery tumble and do its best to escape her chest.

His fingertips grazed the outside curve of her breast through the plain white fabric. Then he followed the arch of her flesh up and over, stopping at the tiny white rose in the depth of her cleavage. “I don’t know. I can’t picture you in black lace.”

“I’m not the type, am I?”

“You’re not.” He lowered his head slowly, as if giving her the chance to pull away. Which was completely ridiculous, since she’d been the one to start this.

He was practically a gentleman. A lamb in rogue’s clothing, maybe. Except the way he kissed her collarbone said he still had plenty of expertise to go around.

She dropped her shirt, and it fluttered around her shins before catching on the edge of the bed. Maybe her last connection to sanity, floating away. The sun was setting at her back, the last rays kissing her skin with their warmth. She was floating too. When he finally kissed her, his mouth gliding over hers, she knew she was lost.

In the best kind of way.

S
ean had made some foolish choices before, and part of him kept insisting this was one. The rational part of his brain, or what was left of it, kept saying that Annie didn’t know what she was doing. There was no way she could give up the three million he’d offered for her teen center.

Flat out, he wasn’t worth it.

But he couldn’t pull away the way he should. He couldn’t stop touching her. He couldn’t, couldn’t. Couldn’t. He was strung tight as wire trying to hold himself back.

And then fuck it, he
wouldn’t
.

He snapped, wrapping one arm around her lower back.

She was made of flesh and skin and bone. He kissed the upper swells of her breasts. Yeah, her bra was plain, but it framed the most perfect set of breasts he’d ever seen. She was pale and soft. When he opened his mouth at the top edge of that bra, she gasped. Her hands landed across the backs of his shoulders, but lightly. So lightly he could almost ignore their touch.

Yet he couldn’t ignore the way she trembled. The shaking worked all the way through her, a fine
vibration that had her operating on some higher frequency.

“Are you all right?” He kept his head down as he asked, his mouth on her flesh. If she said no, he’d stop. But he wouldn’t want her to see his face. He’d probably give away how hard it would be to stop. He’d heard about his self-indulgence too many times to count.

“I’m good,” she whispered. “I’m good. I’m fine.” She sound determined more than anything else. Her voice shook to go along with her body, and he darted a glance up to see her dark eyes.

She was a creature torn in two. Her mouth opened on a silent gasp when he cupped the fullness of her breast, but her gaze was troubled. The flush across her cheeks spread to her throat. Her porcelain paleness turned pink.

He could see it in her eyes. She was using him to explore something that had once hurt her. He was free game to so many women, the kind of guy they took for a spin or two before tucking him away and moving on to a real relationship guy. He could do that. He could give her the freedom she needed to try to move on. He
wanted
to do that.

He twisted the two of them so that Annie’s back faced the bed. The sun streaking in through the westward window painted her with an impressionist’s brush. Delicate art blended with the strength in her wiry muscles. Her stomach was taut and drawn hard with her mixed tension. He wanted to see her softened. Relaxed.

Dropping to kneel before her was easy. Surprisingly so. He’d always thought of himself as a
balanced lover. Not selfish, but not in the least subservient.

Except now. The carpet beneath his knees, he framed her narrow hips between his hands. The pose earned an openmouthed smile from her. The tip of her tongue dipped into the corner of her mouth. The reverence in her hovering hands made him want to give her everything. Anything he was capable of.

“What are you doing?” Her voice had dropped to a whisper, and in the empty room she sounded a little lost.

He took her hand and placed a kiss in the center of her palm. Her skin was soft, with texture from the lines of her life. She closed her fingers around the edge of his jaw. “I’m taking what I want.”

“What’s that?”

“Don’t you know?” He flashed a good smile up at her, one that had creamed the panties of plenty of models and wanna-be actresses. He had game. Time to use it. “I want you to come so hard you see stars.”

That smile of hers turned incredibly cheeky, making her jawline softer. He cupped her rounded chin in one hand, turning her mouth down for a kiss that snatched away her gasp. But then she pulled her mouth away. “Seeing stars is usually just a sign of oxygen deprivation. If you concentrate on increasing oxygenation and breathing evenly, an orgasm can be enhanced or even increased.”

“Damn you’re cute when you talk smart.”

She stuck her tongue out at him. “And you’re a smart-ass when you talk all dumb.”

He wrapped both hands around her rib cage but
kept his grip loose. She was as skittish as a wild animal, and though her mouth could keep going all cheekylike, he couldn’t escape the fear that she’d bolt if given half the chance. He stretched up toward her mouth and she bent down. Their kisses were soft. Gentle. But her mouth tasted like spice and sugar, and he wanted more. Holding himself back was a bitch.

His muscles locked tight, and something like anticipation made him about as rational as a shark. He’d intended to taste her from there, pulling her shorts down and nudging her legs apart. But when he opened his mouth on the curve of her waist, she jumped. She needed more control than that, even.

He dropped to his heels, pulling her forward. She squeaked. “What are you doing?”

“Come here.”

He pulled and tugged and stripped her shorts. She hopped from one foot to the other, letting him, but giggling with a slightly nervous tone. Then he took her mouth again. It seemed so simple. Kiss, kiss . . . explosion. They burned. Her mouth clung to his when he tried to move away, so he kissed her more. Again. Until his brain swam. He cupped the softest part of her ass through her panties, which were plain white to match her bra.

Leaning again, enough so he sat back on his heels, he nuzzled the tiny white bow at the top of her panties. She smelled like a woman, and though he kept his hands away from her pussy to intentionally give her time to warm up, he could tell she was wet. He buried his face against her stomach, then licked a
trail across her skin and left goose bumps in his wake.

Hands on her hips tugged her down, over him. “You’re unbelievably hot.”

She was. The tight tendons between her thighs and the seam of her body twitched with his words. She was
strong
. Her stomach wasn’t just flat; she had a faint line of muscle down the center. He spanned the side of her rib cage with a single hand, and beneath his palm were sinew and bone. She needed pampering, and she needed to be taken care of. He knew the pressure she put herself under—the need to keep going without being able to rest because rest was closer to failure than she could afford.

“You don’t have to say that.”

“I do. Because it’s true.”

Her gaze troubled, she rubbed her hands over his jaw.

He hadn’t shaved that morning. He hadn’t shaved yesterday either, but that had been calculated. He’d wanted to be artfully stubbly for a photo shoot for a line of board shorts—a stylistic choice that felt faintly self-centered and foolish now. What were a well-chosen suit and
GQ
-level stubble when the entire industry had turned on him?

But now his beard was softer. She left tingles in her wake. She was her own sort of magician. Someone he’d have never known if not for the strange twist his career had taken. For a moment, he was actually grateful for that argument he’d gotten into at the bar in Bali. The guys had been loudmouths and not worth it . . . but the fight had brought him to Annie.

He pulled her down until she straddled his waist, and then he lay on his back. She had a wiry strength, but she looked half-stunned as she stared down at him. “What do you want, sugar? Anything I’ve got, it’s yours.”

Her hands spread wide over his chest, and the position pushed her breasts together. Her knees barely grazed him. She was all strength and completely dynamic. He framed her hips, stroked down the length of her thighs. She dropped her chin to her chest, then looked up at him from under her lashes. “I want . . . I want to lick you.”

He froze. His thumbs dug into the soft flesh at the inside of her thighs, below those tendons that stood out in stark relief. “Well. That’s not exactly what I expected.”

“Is that a no?”

“Fucking hell, it’s not a no.”

She laughed, though she still seemed strung so tight, she could explode. But she jerked him straight up to her same level of twisted up when she spread her knees and dropped to balance on him. Her pert little ass pressed against his cock, which was hard enough that he throbbed. He groaned.

“Bad?” Fuckin’ A, she was teasing him. She lifted herself high enough so that she wasn’t making contact anymore. “Should I stop?”

“You should do absolutely whatever the fuck makes you happy.” He managed to keep his hands loose on her hips and didn’t haul her ass down to grind on him, but fuck he was close to doing just that. He settled for letting his spine curve up so he could brush over her delicate flesh.

Those panties were soaked, the white fabric turning almost translucent. He could see the seam of her lips, a hint of trimmed hair. He nudged both thumbs under her hem. Taunting could go both ways. Her flesh was damp with her need for him. His stomach clenched on want. He pushed his hips up, and fortunately she came down at the same time. Then bent all the way down, until her breasts rubbed against his chest.

The way she kissed him could almost make him think this was something special. But she was distracting herself, trying him out. This didn’t count. Not in the scheme of things. Not as something big.

Her mouth traced fire over his shoulder, over the tops of his pecs. Her fingers dug into the sides of his chest. Holding still enough for her to explore was going to make him snap. He could roll her over and shove her down into the floor so he could fuck her fierce and hard and
more
.

But this was Annie. She was still strung so tight, he could snap her with one thump. Her hips were making little thrusting motions under his grip. Most women would be writhing, pressing into him in pure demonstration of their willingness. But she was constrained. Tiny movements. Tiny grasping.

Tiny but steady. She traced her tongue over the top of his abs, and he clenched so hard, he could have been getting ready for a magazine photo spread. This was . . . Fuck, this was temptation.

“Annie, I’m not sure . . .”

“You said anything.” She wrapped her fingers around his hands and pulled them away from her hips. He tried to lace their fingers together, but she spread their arms and pinned his hands to the floor. Even with her full weight behind it, the pin was a joke. It would take barely a jolt to shake her. But her breath rushed in a hot wash over his chest. A matching pounding pulse fluttered at the base of her throat.

The red across her cheeks hadn’t faded in the least. He concentrated on that. She was pushing herself hard for some reason. Her lips parted, lush and wet. Her eyes were so dark that sometimes he couldn’t read them. But the skin between her brows was tight, and she bit her lip. He was laid out on his fucking back in the middle of his floor. This was for her. Asking him for some restraint wasn’t unreasonable.

“I
meant
anything.” He swallowed hard, pushing his own turn-on away. He’d get plenty, especially if what she wanted so badly was her mouth on him. Still, his voice came out hoarse. He was rewarded with a brilliant smile.

Her touch trailed up his arms, tickling the inside of his elbows and then digging into his biceps. She stopped at his shoulders. Kissing her smile was heady. A deadly kind of delicious.

“Besides,” she said against the underside of his jaw as she trailed her open lips over his skin, “I’m begging to go down on you. I can’t imagine a single guy in the world who’d complain about that.”

He chuckled even though his chest felt like he was
burning his way through the last of his oxygen. “Yeah, no. Not protesting. Not at all.”

“Good boy.”