Sultry in Stilettos (14 page)

His voice low and gravelly, he said,
“We’ll take this as slow as you want. I just want to look at
you.”

The part of her that had always been
in love with him wrestled her rational brain to the ground and
locked it in a safe. She let go of her tank, letting it fall to her
waist.

Beckett hissed in a breath. “You’re
beautiful.”

Ricca battled the urge to cover
herself. Men had always been a little obsessed with her breasts.
But no one had looked at her so adoringly. Like she was a
goddess.

Beckett’s eyes went wide, and his lips
parted. His gaze was hot, hungry. When he licked his bottom lip,
heat pooled at her center.

Slowly Beckett stepped into her and
dipped his head, nuzzling her throat. His heat surrounded her
driving her crazy. God, he was so big. Broad shoulders. Wide chest.
Big hands. He drove her just to the edge of madness with his lips,
and then he’d stop and only give her the lightest brush of contact.
Just enough to tantalize.

His teeth scored her neck, and Ricca
shuddered even as she wrapped her legs around him, desperate to
bring him closer. He used his tongue to lick the tiny injury and
kissed his way to her collar bone. When he nipped her flesh, she
cried out his name. His hips jerked against hers, and he muttered a
curse at her throat.

Beckett laid her on the cool granite
and kissed the column of her sternum, avoiding her breasts all
together, and Ricca whined. He chuckled against her flesh as he
kissed down to her belly button. “Don’t worry, I’ll get to
them.”

He took his time kissing the planes of
her stomach, and she tried urging him up toward her breasts by
tugging his hair. That earned her a nip. “I love it when you tug
baby, but I have plans on taking my time. If you can’t behave, I’ll
have to restrain you.”

She’d never really been into bondage
play, but with Beckett, she shivered as she considered what it
would be like for him to do what he wanted with her body. “Who knew
you were so kinky.”

His eyes darkened to a deep brown. And
he looked like he wanted to completely devour her. In this
position, his erection lined right up to her center. With every
move, he rubbed against her. With every flick of her tongue, she
felt him harden and the heat emanating from him burn at inferno
levels.

As Beckett finally kissed his way back
to her breasts, she didn’t know how much more she could take. With
every brush of his lips against her flesh, her hips moved in an
ancient rhythm. Beckett kissed the underside of her breasts, and
she skimmed her fingers over the coiled muscles of his shoulders.
Tension twisted in her belly, and Ricca drew in a shuddering
breath. She rocked her hips against him once more.

Beckett’s growl was low and feral.
“Jesus, Ricca.” He hovered over one breast and his breath tickled
the sensitive tip, causing it to pebble.

He smiled and gently blew on the tight
bud again. She moaned as he covered the tip of her breast with his
lips. He used his teeth to graze the turgid tip. The mind numbing
pleasure chased the prick of pain. Replacing his teeth with his
tongue, he laved the tip, first tugging, gently sending a spike of
lust through her center, then suckling. The teasing of his tongue
and the moist heat of his mouth coupled with his hips rocking
against hers, and Ricca felt an impending orgasm tripping up her
spine. “Beckett.” She exhaled his name on a breath.

His hand skimmed up her stomach to
tease the tight bud of her other nipple.

“Beckett. Oh god, I—” The orgasm
crashed through her body with the force of a two-ton semi. Her legs
tightened around his hips, and she arched her body into his as
waves of ecstasy traveled from her cerebral cortex to the rest of
her body. All she could think was that she wanted more. More of
this. More of Beckett. Just more.

Blinking rapidly she looked up at him.
“Beckett.”

His voice was low growl. “Holy shit,
you are so hot when you come.”

They were all over each other with the
speed of lighting. He pulled back. Tugging at the tank she’d let
fall to her waist, he struggled to get her tank top over her head.
As she reached for his sweats, he hooked his fingers in her
leggings and yanked them down, all the while devouring her lips.
When he dug his fingers into her hair, he said, “Promise me you’re
never going to go back to wearing a bun again.”

“Deal.” She wanted to make him promise
to stop dating models, but that wouldn’t get her
anywhere.

When he slipped a hand inside her damp
panties, his eyes fluttered closed, and his lips parted. He
grinned. “I thought you were a Trini girl. I didn’t know you had
Brazilian roots.”

She flushed and ducked her head. “Not
something I thought I’d ever be telling you.”

“You realize now, this is all I’ll be
able to think about. Especially when we’re in one of those long
debrief meetings and you cross and uncross your legs. It’ll be like
my own personalized torture chamber not being able to touch you.”
He slipped a finger inside her, and the fire in her core crackled
to life again.

“Jesus, Beckett.”

He cut her off with a kiss and
impatiently started tugging her leggings down.

A soft scraping came from the living
room, and Ricca frowned. It sounded like—

Beckett distracted her with his deft
fingers. When she heard the jangle of keys, she froze. Beckett
blinked and shook his head as if trying to clear it. Then his eyes
went wide. “Ricca, stay here, okay? I’ll get rid of whoever it is.
I’ll be right back. It’s probably just the maid. I emailed her and
told her not to come today. But maybe she missed it.”

The moment he withdrew, she sat up.
Someone was here? Shit. She scrambled off the island. Holy shit,
she’d just been about to have some seriously hot sex with Beckett
on his kitchen island. The maid could have found them here screwing
like horny teenagers. Another hot flush tinged her cheeks. What the
hell had gotten into her?

Snatching up her tank top, she dragged
it on and fastened the bra. She slipped into her button-down and
smoothed her hair. Had she really just been about to have sex with
Beckett? Her body screamed hell to the yes. Her brain screamed, you
better take off those clothes and go jump in his bed. Cold granite
can be murder on the spine.

But something told her there was a
problem in irresponsibility land. Something didn’t feel right.
There were no voices from the living room. Checking the stainless
steel backsplash to make sure she looked presentable, or at the
very least not like she’d just had an orgasm at the hand of her
best friend, courtesy of some serious dry humping, she turned off
the curry and moved it to another burner. Lucky for her, the curry
hadn’t burned.

Ricca slipped her flats
back on. She did a quick sweep around the kitchen, hoping it didn’t
scream,
I almost had hot
sex
, then strolled out into the living
room. Beckett's broad back blocked her view of the door opening.
But it was clear he was talking to someone, keeping his voice
low.

“Beckett? Who’s at the
doo—”

At the sound of her voice, he whipped
around, guilt and anxiety etched all over his face. “Ricca,
I—”

She didn’t even hear him, because her
gaze was focused on the doorjamb. In all her blond perfection stood
Angel. She looked as shocked and confused as Ricca felt.

Ricca opened her mouth to mutter a
greeting. Good breeding didn’t escape her even now, when she should
have given Angel the full force of her scowl for interrupting her
moment with Beckett. They’d almost made love, and evil Barbie had
found a way to ruin it.

Angel narrowed her eyes and scowled at
Beckett. “I thought you said you were resting. What the fuck is she
doing here?”

For several beats, Ricca held her
breath. It wasn’t until her head swam and she swayed that her brain
kicked in and she dragged in a breath. Angel? Here in Beckett’s
apartment—with keys? Maybe she’d come to drop something off? Ricca
scrutinized Angel. She didn’t seem to have anything.

Ricca cleared her throat. “You
dropping something off from the Fantasy files?” She kept her voice
neutral, hoping she didn’t sound hopeful.

Angel’s smile was devilish. “You could
say that.”

Beckett stepped between them, blocking
Ricca’s view. “Angel had a message to deliver. And I got it. She
was just leaving.”

“Not so fast.” Angel stepped around
Beckett. “What are you doing here, Ricca? Playing nursemaid or
doctor?

“Angel, that’s enough.” Beckett’s
voice was a low growl.

“Wow, you are a lucky bastard. As you
convalesce, women just come over to throw themselves at you. Must
be nice.”

Ricca still didn’t compute. But
something told her hot sex was off the table, so to speak. She slid
Beckett a glance. “I’m going to head out. The curry is on the
stove. Let it cool, then you can store it in the freezer. I left
you some of the naan I made in the fridge too.” She tipped her head
up and met his gaze. “I’ll see you in the office.” God, talk about
a cold shower. All warmth that had lingered on her skin was
replaced by goose bumps. If he wanted to continue where they left
off, he'd be waiting until they made snowballs in hell.

Beckett finally found his voice. “No,
Ricca, stay for dinner. You cooked. Angel really was just leaving.”
He turned to the leggy blonde. “You said everything you have to
say, right?” He stuck his hands in his pockets.

Angel looked from him to Ricca and
back again. “You’re shitting me, right? You actually expect me to
go?”

Ricca didn’t understand why Beckett’s
stance was so aggressive. She studied him again, then frowned. More
like he was apathetic. Deliberately not standing close to her. Not
taking her arm and leading her out. The jangle of keys filled the
air, and Ricca knew why.

Angel had a key. Ricca’s
whole body went numb.
Oh, God.
Angel.
That bitch had tortured her for
months, and all the while Beckett had been sleeping with her?
Ricca’s stomach rolled. The usually comforting scent of coriander
and coconut milk made her want to vomit.

He was a liar. He might have stood up
for her in some situations, but behind the scenes, he was sleeping
with evil Barbie. Ricca placed a hand on her stomach in an attempt
to ward off the nausea. She pegged Beckett with a glare, and he
reached for her hand.

“Ricca, wait. I can explain. It’s not
what you think.”

Ricca scooped her purse and jacket up
from the nearby loveseat where she’d left them. “So you’re saying
that the two of you aren’t sleeping together?”

“No. Yes.” Beckett dragged his hands
through his hair. “Wait, I—”

“Allow me to explain,” Angel said with
a smile. “Me and your bestie were going at it pretty hot and heavy
for a couple of weeks. Now he wants to act like he’s too busy to
see me.”

“Shit,” muttered Beckett. “It was a
couple of times. Completely not worth mentioning.”

Ricca nodded. “Right. Well, I’ll just
leave you two to it.”

Beckett said something that
she didn’t hear. She simply walked out
. I
will not cry. I will not cry
. She kept her
pace even when she wanted to do nothing more than to run out
crying. Beckett and Angel. How the hell had she missed this? Angel
had said they’d been sleeping together for months. God she felt so
stupid. And she’d been in his place about to have sex with
him.
Angel’s sloppy
seconds
. Ew.

“Ricca, wait. “

She whirled around. He came sprinting
down the hallway. “No, Beckett. Don’t say anything. It’s okay. It’s
fine. You can do whatever you want. We’re not tied to each other.
And God—Angel. Well, she was a model. I get it.”

“No, Ricca. Shit. I’m sorry. I’m so
sorry. I had no idea she was coming over. We’re over. Been over for
months. It was a stupid, stupid thing that never should have
happened.” He rubbed his shoulder.

Instantly, she wanted to ask if he was
okay, but her fury prevented her. “Beckett, I understand. What
happened before Angel. I—” She flushed. “I don’t know what
happened.”

He reached for her, and she stepped
out of his reach. “Just come back, and we can talk. I sent her
packing, and I’m changing my locks first thing in the morning. I
swear, she only had a key because I let her stay here when her
place was fumigated back when we were, uh, seeing each other. She
gave my key back, but I guess she made a copy. That’s it! It wasn’t
some long secret relationship. I swear!”

Ricca shook her head. “I can’t. Angel,
Beckett? And you never once mentioned—you know what?” She rolled
onto her heels as she peered up at him. “I’m done.”

Relax,
Ricca, it's just a date, she muttered to herself as she fussed with
her dress. The low-cut burgundy number displayed more of her double
D's than she usually put out there. But the color complemented her
cinnamon skin tone, and she'd taken care with her make up.
For effect, she’d pinned up one side of her hair
to give her the full 1930’s gangster girlfriend look. Ricca applied
another coat of lipstick and stared at herself in the mirror. She
looked dressed for sex. Not that Carter would be so
lucky.