Just My Type (10 page)
A cab was stopped along the curb a half block away and Mac headed after it, giving a sharp whistle to catch the cabby’s attention. Fortunately, Sara had pulled her dress back up to cover herself.
Once they were settled in the backseat, he once more did as Sara had accused him and used money to get what he wanted. He handed the cab driver thirty bucks and said, “Take the long way back, mind your own business and don’t look in the rearview mirror.”
When the man nodded his consent and pocketed the money, they pulled away from the curb and Mac said to Sara, “Do you have panties on?”
He didn’t look at her, but in his periphery saw her pivot to face him.
“Yes. Well, a thong.”
Damn
. He wasn’t sure this game was such a great idea. Still, he had to keep going. He had to push her into discomfort in order to push her away.
“Take it off.”
She sat and stared at his profile for several seconds. Then, without a word, she lifted her butt off the leather seat, reached up under the skirt of her sundress and pulled the underwear off.
He couldn’t help but look then. The thong was white. Virginal white. And tiny.
He held out his hand and she put the warm silk in his palm. He cupped his fingers around it and then slipped it into his front pants pocket.
“Now come here.”
Without hesitation, she slid across the seat. He wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her into his lap, one knee on each side of his thighs, making her straddle him. Without panties. Mac took a moment to compose himself so his voice wouldn’t come out as a squeak. The backseat of a cab wasn’t new to him either, but he’d never felt this wound up before.
“Let me see your nipples,” he told her, finally letting himself look at her face.
55
Erin Nicholas
She was flushed, breathing hard, her lips slightly parted and her eyes full of heat, surprise and anticipation. She reached up and pushed the straps of her dress off her shoulders, then peeled the straps down, taking the upper portion of the bodice down as well.
Her breasts bared, her nipples prominent, she sat on his lap, waiting for his next move.
“Put one in my mouth.”
He kept his hands firmly around her thighs, just above the knees, not daring to even twitch a finger for fear his hands would never stop until Sara was naked and begging him to take her hard, right there in the cab.
What made him nearly lose it, still in his boxers and blue jeans, was that Sara didn’t hesitate to respond to his commands. She pushed up slightly off his lap, her hands going to his shoulders, to put her right breast in front of his mouth, then leaned forward, offering the tip.
Mac’s tongue tasted it first. He flicked over the hardened nipple, causing her to moan. Then he closed his lips around it, kissing gently, before he sucked, once soft, then harder, making Sara squirm on his lap and her fingers tighten on his shoulders.
“Mac,” she whispered. “More.”
He sucked again, willing his own fingers to lessen their grip on her thighs as he fought the wave of lust. He licked, sucked and licked again. Then switched to the other side with only a slight turn of his head.
She knew what he wanted—and what she wanted—and she shifted to give him access to the left breast as well.
Several delicious minutes later, he gave her the next order. “Touch yourself.” Finally, a hesitation.
“What do you mean?”
“Squeeze your nipple.” He figured they could start slow.
She lifted her hand to her right breast and took the tip between her thumb and forefinger. She tugged gently and sighed with pleasure.
Mac was amazed at his willpower. Everything in him screamed at him to take her, but he was still clothed and his hands hadn’t left her thighs. Impressive. Or stupid. Still, he was going to congratulate himself for what he could, because in the next few hours, maybe days, he wasn’t going to be the nicest guy in the world.
A minute later, God proved His existence—and that Mac wasn’t completely off His list—and they arrived in front of the resort.
“Cover up,” Mac told her. When she was slow to respond to his instruction, Mac slipped the straps of the dress back up to her shoulders as the cab stopped.
He threw thirty more dollars into the front seat and slid from the cab putting Sara on her feet first and then nudging her along in front of him.
56
Just My Type
Without a word, they walked toward her condo, not touching but overwhelmed with awareness of one another. He needed to shock her, he needed to push her sexually, he needed to turn her off, but everything he did she kept right up with.
Dammit. He’d been here before. And regretted it. He wasn’t doing that again. Guilt was not something he lived with well. He hadn’t forgiven himself for the past, and he hadn’t forgotten, but he was strict about his reparation, which made him feel better.
He’d made himself choose between women who wanted meaningful relationships and women who could match his sexual preferences, understanding that, for him, they didn’t mix. In his life there were no women who might fall in love with him, no women who might require him to remember anniversaries, no women who batted an eye at having their hands tied during sex.
And now there was Sara. She couldn’t fit into his life either, but she was the first in a very, very long time that he wanted to. He had to get to Sara’s no-way-in-hell limit damned quick.
He needed to get creative.
She fumbled at the door with the key so Mac took it from her, calling upon his nerves as a paramedic to control the adrenaline coursing through his body and keep his own hand steady. He got the door unlocked, pushed her through and shut and locked it behind them.
Sara came at him, obviously intent on kissing him. He held her off with a hand. “Bed. Strip on your way.”
Mac didn’t watch her walk across the suite toward the bed. He turned away, braced his hands on the doorway and hung his head, breathing deep, trying to gain some control.
He was absolutely not going to have sex with Sam’s little sister.
Okay, so some people would say they’d already been pretty intimate. He wasn’t going to promise it wasn’t going to go a little further. It had to in order for him to show her he was way to wild for her. He just wasn’t going to kiss her. Not unless it was absolutely necessary. He wasn’t going to touch her any more than that. At least, he was going to try not to touch her. He
definitely
wasn’t going to bury himself as deep as he could go, over and over and over.
Yeah, that one he wasn’t going to do.
He turned around a moment later, feeling as in control as he was likely going to get with the knowledge he was going to see every beautiful, naked inch of Sara Bradford before he left that condo.
She hadn’t had much to remove. Just her dress, since he had her thong in his pocket. She still hadn’t listened to him. She was lying on her back, propped up on her elbows, her smooth tanned legs dangling over the edge of the bed, mostly covered. At least as much as she’d been covered since being on St. Croix.
He stopped in front of her and looked down at her.
On a bed. Like a wet dream come true.
57
Erin Nicholas
Even if he hadn’t seen in the cab that she wasn’t wearing a bra, there was obviously nothing between her breasts and the thin white satin of her top—the hard points of her nipples were evident.
He’d wanted women. He’d felt heat and passion. He’d never felt burned alive from the inside like he did now. He knew, even as he gazed down at her, once he saw her, saw every inch of flesh on this woman, he would never want another. Ever.
This had the potential of making him a very lonely, sexually frustrated person from here on.
Still he said, “Take it off.”
Her eyes widened. “I’d rather you did it.”
He frowned. She was going to be difficult even now? “Sara, take it off.” She reached her hand behind her neck and pulled on the end of the tie that held the top up. The material gave and the front slipped down to reveal the smooth peach-colored skin of her chest and upper swells of her breasts. Not far enough.
“More,” he said hoarsely.
She grasped the satiny material between her thumb and first finger just above her belly button and tugged. The fabric slipped down, tortuously slow, until her beautiful breasts and hard nipples were fully revealed.
His mouth went dry as if it was the first time he’d seen her. Somehow, this felt different. This was premeditated. This wasn’t a spontaneous painting or an attempt to shock her in a public place. This was a private showing. All for him.
She was tiny all over. She wasn’t more than an A cup and he’d heard her bemoan that fact in the past.
Right now, though, she didn’t look upset. About anything. And he sure as hell wasn’t complaining.
“Now what?” A mischievous smile teased the corner of her mouth.
“All the way. Off.” He was already beyond the ability to make full sentences.
She lifted her hips off the mattress. She looked at him expectantly as if waiting for him to pull the skirt down. There was no way he was touching her.
Being by a bed with her was a bad idea.
Watching her undress was a terrible idea.
Thinking about all of the things he wanted to do to her was a horrible idea.
But touching her? Putting his hands on the woman he’d been comparing every other woman to for five years? Running his palms over the curves and silkiness of the woman he’d been depriving himself of, purposefully, for five years?
No way in hell. That would be out of control.
He’d had bad, terrible and horrible ideas before and survived them. He’d always been in control.
“Take it off.”
58
Just My Type
She wouldn’t leave him alone. If he didn’t do this, do
something
, she would not leave it alone. He couldn’t take it. He couldn’t take having her flirt and tease and try to seduce him. So he was going for the shock factor to shut her up. At least long enough to get her back to Omaha, dump her back on her siblings and then disappear for a while to get over her. Shouldn’t take more than a decade or two.
She shrugged, like it didn’t matter to her one way or another, and lay back, grabbing some material in her fingers at each hip and tugging it down, shimmying as she did it. The motion caused her breasts to bounce a little.
Mac bit back a soft curse and closed his eyes.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” he said tightly.
“You’re not going to look?”
He shook his head. He couldn’t. Not right now. Maybe ever.
He’d already seen her. Twice. In the tattoo parlor and the cab he’d had the environment and the knowledge he was
not
going to make love to Sara like that, to keep him in check. Now they were alone. In a private condo, with a locked door, on the island, thousands of miles from anyone they knew. There was nothing to keep him in check—except him.
He’d been beat up, shot at and hung over. Never could he remember feeling this sharp, hot, acute pain before. His body strained to go to her. His mind strained to run in the opposite direction. He felt, literally, pulled in two by equal and opposite forces.
“You want to look, Mac.”
He did. He really, really did. He’d caught just a glimpse in the car. Not damned near enough. He groaned in resignation and opened one eye.
“Holy sh…” The words trailed off as his breath left and his other eye opened as well. Wide. “You’re supposed to be sweet and innocent.” He felt, and sounded, like he was strangling.
“I am. No thanks to you. I’m hoping to be thanking you for more than that tonight.” He groaned again. “What the hell am I supposed to say to that?”
“Just say ‘yes, Sara, I fully intend to make love to you until neither of us can walk’.”
“God,” he growled. “This is ridiculous.”
“Mac,” she said, shifting her legs against the sheet, the motion drawing his eyes. “I want you. I know you want me too.”
He shoved a hand through his hair. “I can’t, Sara. Why don’t you get that?”
“You’ve already crossed a line,” she said. She slid her hands, palms down, over her hips and around to the front of her thighs where he was resolutely not looking. “You’ve seen me naked now. It’s not like the rest is much of a jump.”
He gave a humorless laugh. “Right. Naked is pretty much the same thing as sex.”
59
Erin Nicholas
“Good, so we agree.”
“I haven’t even touched you.”
“I know. I wish you would correct that oversight.”
He was being punished. There was a rather long list of things he might be punished for, so that wasn’t the important part. The important thing was realizing if this was cosmic discipline, then getting out of it was probably not an option.
“I’m not going to touch you, Sara,” he said.
“I want you to give me my first orgasm without a vibrator, Mac.” Lord, when had Sara turned into the sexy, brazen siren that was now naked in front of him? Had he known she would talk like this, his control over the past five years would have been tested even harder.
He finally let his eyes roam over her body. He was trying to be a good guy, but there was a limit. The Pope himself couldn’t stand here for this long and not look.
Sara was the epitome of petite. Her tiny breasts would fit twice in his palm and his fingers would nearly touch if he circled her waist with his hands. She made him feel gigantic, manly, protective. And nearly crazed with lust.
Her hips flared only slightly from her waist and her legs were slender. She was short, but her legs seemed to go on forever. At the apex of her thighs was the prettiest thatch of blond hair, trimmed into a perfect V. Otherwise she was perfectly smooth.
“You wa…” Mac coughed and tried again. “You waxed.”
“Hurt too. For all that trouble you could be a bit more accommodating,” she said with a little pout.