Seducing Steve Page 2

  “Not because you wanted me to buy your dinner and let you torment me with whatever chick flick was mailed directly to your door?” He set his beer aside and raised the lid on the pizza box.

  “Those would be the surface reasons.” Sara used the hem of her sweater to twist the cap from her bottle. “There’s a deeper reason.”

  Steve liberated a loaded slice of pizza from its cardboard confines. “Oh yeah?”

  “I want to talk to you about my next book.”

  “What about it?” Half-listening, he lifted the slice and prepared to take a bite.

  “I need your help.”

  He cast a puzzled glance in her direction. “My help? I’m not a writer. Why would you need my help?”

  Sara lounged against the cushion. He resisted the urge to fidget under her steady gaze. A prickling sensation crept up the back of his neck. To cover his discomfiture, he leaned forward and took a healthy bite of his pizza.

  “I need help with the sex.”

  He choked and sputtered. A chunk of pepperoni lodged in his throat.

  Sara sat up and gave his back a solicitous pat. “I’m sorry, bad timing.”

  Her hand slid up to his shoulder. His fingers went lax and the slice slipped from his grip, landing in the box with a splat. Facile fingers curled into the muscle, kneading the knot of tension at the base of his neck. Her touch had the same effect it always did—his brain stutter-stepped, his breathing slowed, and his cock stirred. Nothing new there.

  Steve forced the barely chewed bite down his throat and washed it down with a healthy pull from his bottle of beer. “Sex?” He gasped, lowering the bottle. His dick perked even more. He stretched one leg, hoping to make an unobtrusive adjustment to the denim biting into his crotch.

  “You remember sex, don’t you?”

  “Vaguely,” he managed, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand as his mind raced. Her fingers slipped into his hair and his johnson all but stood up and cried “Hallelujah!’ Desperate, he grabbed the pizza box and hauled it into his lap, hoping mounds of cheesy sausage would camouflage the pepperoni threatening to burst from his jeans. “We don’t talk about sex.”

  Sara scooted closer still, angling her body toward his and he stopped breathing altogether. “I need to talk to someone about it.”

  “Why?”

  “Because it’s been a long time since I’ve had sex.”

  He glanced at her. Her blue eyes shone with earnest intensity. Steve was glad for the cardboard buffer between them. “Why me? Isn’t there a, uh, girlfriend, or maybe your mom...”

  “I need a man’s perspective on things.”

  Steve gaped at her as she gently pried the box from his grasp and set it aside. His cheeks flushed, and he feared they glowed as red as his hair. “What kind of things?”

  “What you like, what you don’t like. When you expect it, how do you go about getting it—”

  He shook his head so hard his brain sloshed and held up one hand to stop her. “I can’t talk about sex with you.”

  “Yes, you can.”

  He continued shaking his head, wavering between fight and flight and wishing ‘fuck’ was on his list of options.

  “Steve, how long have we been friends?”

  His brow puckered. “I don’t know... Eight, nine years?”

  “And how many times have we come close to kissing?”

  His heart stopped beating. A well-worn montage of near-kisses flashed in his mind’s eye. “We don’t kiss.”

  “We don’t kiss because we both know once we start, we won’t want to stop,” Sara asserted.

  Steve tossed his uneaten slice of pizza into the open box. “Why are you doing this?”

  Sara reared back. “I just... I think it’s time.”

  “Time? Time?” His voice rose and his mind reeled.

  This isn’t really happening. Not now, not after all this time. This is just one of Sara’s weird conversations. She doesn’t really want you. She just wants to talk, so talk. What the hell does she mean ‘time’?

  “Eight years, Steve,” she murmured, answering his unspoken question. “I’ve been divorced for almost a year now. It’s been a while since you’ve dated anyone steady…”

  “Yeah, I hear you,” he snapped. Dragging in a breath, he scrubbed his face his palm. “Why now?”

  “Why not?” Sara leaned forward, placing her bottle on the table next to his. “We’ve never had good timing, you and I...” She shrugged. “I was with Adam...”

  The tang of bitterness flooded his mouth. “You weren’t just with Adam, you were married to Adam.”

  “Yes, and I think we can agree my marriage was a mistake.”

  Running his hand through his hair, Steve mumbled, “Jesus Christ, I... I just got used to the idea that this would never happen.”

  “It could happen.”

  Pushing to his feet, he paced the tiny living room and looked everywhere but directly at her.

  He’d broken a date to be here tonight. Not that he considered the date a sacrifice. Drinks with the possibility of dinner with some woman whose name escaped him the moment Sara upped the ante with her offer of pizza and a movie. He didn’t think twice about breaking the date. However, he did spend most of the afternoon trying to pretend that breaking a date to eat pizza with Sara didn’t make him pathetic. All he was sacrificing was another uncomfortable evening in an overpriced restaurant, pretending to be interested in someone who wasn’t Sara.

  Sara, who was sitting on the couch watching him prowl the room like a caged tiger. He forced himself to come to a halt in front of the fireplace. She rose and took a big step closer to him, but he was too freaked out to lower his defenses. He held up his hands to halt her progress, and turned to brace his hands on the mantle.

  “I can’t start thinking about this again.”

  She pressed her hand to the center of his back. “Don’t think.”

  He tensed, squeezing his eyes shut as the warmth of her palm seeped through to his back, searing his skin, branding him as hers. He swallowed past the lump in his throat. “Don’t you see? As much as I wanted to, uh, kiss you, I needed you to be my friend more.”

  Her hand slid down his back and into his palm. His fingers closed reflexively around hers. “If I promise we’ll always be friends?”

  For a split second, he wondered if this was another one of those dreams where he’d wake up sweaty and alone. Gathering the last of his nerve, he turned to face her, meeting her gaze directly. “What do you want to know?” he asked, his voice holding more than a hint of caution.

  “Everything.”

  He bit down on his impatience and shook his head. “Ask me something.”

  “Do you still want to kiss me?”

  “Yes,” he answered without a second of hesitation.

  Sara smiled, and she swayed closer to him. “What’s stopping you now?”

  Her statement did stop him. The mish-mash of crazy thoughts caroming around in his head came to a screeching halt for a moment. Just one moment. Then, nothing could have stopped him.

  He wrapped his arms around her, embracing her as he had dozens of times over the years. She tipped her head back, her hand cradling the nape of his neck. Sara stared straight into his eyes, and he knew he was a goner. He searched the depths of her blue-green eyes. “We’re really going to do this?”

  “Yes,” she whispered.

  His hands splayed across her back, his fingers pressing into her. The warmth of her skin seeped through the soft sweater she wore. Her eyes sparkled as she stared up at him expectantly. He dipped his head, his lips hovering a mere inch from hers. She didn’t flinch or pull away. The tip of her pink tongue darted out to moisten her lips, and he exhaled, releasing the fervent desire he’d held back for so long. “Thank God.”

  Her lips were soft—softer than he had ever dared to let himself imagine. He sank into the kiss, his arms banding around her, urging her closer as his mouth clung to hers. She tasted incredible. The tangy mixture
of hops and barley mingled with the pink gloss on her mouth. She parted her lips in invitation, and he didn’t hesitate. He angled his head, parting them further with his tongue, kissing her with a hunger borne of years of deprivation.

  Sara’s nails curled into the shoulder of his sweater. Her fingertips stroked the fine hairs at the back of his neck. His tongue sought hers, and the moment they touched, his brain exploded.

  He kissed her hard and hot, greedily drawing on her tongue, pressing her to him. Every ounce of his customary patience and consideration fled, only to be replaced by a knot of need burning white hot in his stomach. She made a soft, desperate noise and pulled back. He watched her gasp, gulping precious oxygen. He didn’t care if he drew another breath ever again as long as he could keep kissing her.

  Peppering her cheek and jaw with greedy kisses, he trailed his way to her neck, sucking fervently at her delicate skin. Sara bucked against him, and he slid his hand from her waist to her ass, cupping her and pressing her body against the straining bulge in his jeans. She pushed at his shoulders, the muscles in her arms bunching. Stymied by her resistance Steve released his hold on her, blinking rapidly when she stumbled back. His breathing was rough and ragged. He stared at her open-mouthed, shocked by his own behavior.

  Her eyes were round as saucers. An apology formed in his brain, but before he ordered the words from his lips, Sara grasped the hem of her sweater and drew the soft wool over her head. A low, guttural groan filled the room. It wasn’t until she smiled that he realized the groan came from him. Her eyelids grew slumberous as she looked up at him, waiting for his approval.

  His brain barely registered the tantalizing black lace bra with the saucy red ribbon threaded through it. All he could see was pearly skin, soft and smooth, glistening with the sheen of scented creams and heated flesh. He reached for her again, stooping to bury his face in the crook of her neck while his hands molded to her ribcage. His breath, hot and moist, bounced off her dewy flesh. He held her still for a moment, squeezing his eyes shut in a vain attempt to rein in the surge of lust that threatened to overpower every bit of finesse he’d ever acquired.

  “I want you,” she whispered, and his control snapped.

  Chapter Three

  Steve’s teeth sank into the muscle at her shoulder, and Sara shuddered. He claimed her lace-clad breasts and she moaned, thrusting them into his palms. She grappled with the clasp of her bra, finding the overpriced scrap of lace wholly unnecessary. When it gave way, he sank to his knees in front of her, dragging the straps down with him.

  Steve latched onto one taut nipple, and Sara bit her lip to keep from crying out in relief. Her fingers plowed into his hair, her nails digging into his scalp as she pressed him closer, urging him to take more. She curled her fingers into the soft cotton of his sweater, tugging at the worn fabric. Steve leaned back, releasing her nipple with a loud pop that seemed to startle both of them. He stared up at her for a moment, his eyes glowing golden brown in the firelight.

  His chest heaved under his sweater, and she tugged again. “Take this off.” Her voice came out in a low, husky rasp she barely recognized.

  He obliged, whipping the sweater over his head. He continued to stare up at her, swaying on his knees as the firelight played over the skin of his chest, setting aflame the line of coppery brown hair trailing into the waistband of his jeans.

  Her hands fell to his broad shoulders, mesmerized by the smattering of pale gold freckles on his shoulders—a secret he’d kept hidden from her for far too long.

  “Say it again, Sara,” he whispered.

  “Hmm?” she hummed, completely absorbed in memorizing the texture of his skin.

  He tugged at her wrists, and she dropped to her knees mirroring him. Steve framed her face with his hands, forcing her startled gaze to his. His thumb brushed over her lower lip, and she nipped at the fleshy pad with her teeth. He groaned, his fingers sliding into her hair. He kissed her again. His tongue swirled around hers, claiming complete and total possession before he drew back once more.

  “Say it.”

  His urgent command unleashed a tidal wave. Desire, hot and heady, pulsed in her veins and pooled low in her belly. “I want you, Steve.” A slow smile curved her lips when she saw his jaw clench, the tiny muscle near his ear jumping as he battled for restraint. “Do you want me?”

  His laugh whooshed out on a gust of breath. The golden flame of desire burned bright in his dark eyes. “Just a little,” he drawled.

  Emboldened, Sara slid one hand down his chest, following the tantalizing trail of hair over the muscled planes of his stomach and then pressing her palm to the hard ridge of flesh barely concealed by his fly. “I’d say a lot.”

  Steve closed his eyes while she massaged his cock through the coarse denim. “You win.”

  She watched as his lips moved soundlessly, and her heart leapt in her chest. “I’ve dreamed about you. Asleep and awake,” she whispered. “I’ve thought about us for years, Steve.”

  His eyes flew open. “Years?”

  Her gaze locked on him, gauging his reaction to her confession. “Years,” she confirmed.

  “Oh, God.”

  She stroked faster, her fingers curling around the fly of his jeans. “You’ve thought about me?”

  His head fell back, the taut muscles of his stomach quivering with exertion, and he pressed his lips into a firm line. “Uh-nuh,” he grunted noncommittally.

  “I’m going to take that as a yes.” Sara dipped one finger into the waistband of his jeans. Her fingertip grazed the tip of his cock, and her lips parted on a moan.

  A gush of hot breath rushed from his lungs. Steve moved lightning fast, his arms wrapping around her as he kissed her ardently, propelling her back onto the floor. His fingers clawed at the button on her jeans, and she moaned her approval.

  Fevered kisses, hot and wet, rained on her neck, her collarbone, her shoulder. His tongue dipped into the hollow at the base of her throat, and he pulled her zipper down. Steve pressed his bare chest to hers, moaning into her mouth as he kissed her again. The beaded tips of her nipples brushed the smattering of russet hair on his chest, teasing them both.

  A startled laugh bubbled from her lips when his fingers curled into the waistband of her jeans. He pushed back, yanking the worn cotton down over her hips. The fabric bunched at the top of her thighs, abandoned the moment he spotted the tiny triangle of black lace covering her mound.

  Her laughter withered under the heat of his gaze. She wet her lips with her parched tongue, holding her breath while he stared at her, unmoving. Panic clawed at her throat. Her hands fluttered between her breasts and flimsy excuse for panties she thought would be so alluring, trying to decide which to cover first. Steve caught her wrist, pulling her hands away from her body as he ducked his head and pressed his open mouth to the swatch of sheer nothingness.

  “Oh!”

  Heat flooded her body as he nuzzled the thong, inhaling deeply. A rush of desire pooled wet and slick between her legs. The strip of lace bisecting her ass teased her each time he grazed her with his lips. His teeth scraped against the material, and the walls of her pussy swelled and pulsed. She pushed at her jeans, muttering, “Off, off...”

  Steve pressed his tongue to the thong, humming with satisfaction when the lace rasped against the downy curls beneath. He raised his head, fire blazing in his eyes as he looked up at her face. When he lowered his mouth to her again, the tip of his tongue tickled the edge of the panties then stroked the smooth skin at the juncture of her thigh.

  Her hips jerked up off the floor. “Damn you,” she hissed, curling her fingers into his hair.

  This time his laugh burst from deep inside of him. His abs contracted and a chuckle took root, rumbling up through his chest until it escaped his lips in a rush of warm, moist breath drenching the lace.

  Her own lips curved into a sheepish smile. “Well,” she huffed, still trying to wriggle out of her jeans.

  Steve pushed back, his biceps bulging as he li
fted his weight from her, his laughter fading to a husky rasp. He knelt between her legs and stripped the denim down, releasing first one leg and then the other. A wicked grin lit his face when he looked down at her, bare aside from the tiny thong he’d left in place. “You are the only woman I’ve ever known who cussed me while I did that,” he told her, his voice smooth as warm honey.

  The mere implication he’d done this with anyone else was too much to bear. Sara sat up, planting both hands on his chest and pushing with all her might until he toppled back onto his ass. Without giving him a chance to untangle his legs, she climbed up over him and straddled his hips, taking hold of his belt buckle.

  The shock in his eyes changed to blatant arousal as she unfastened the belt. Sara popped the first button on his jeans and smiled when a hoarse groan caught in his throat.

  “Maybe they didn’t want you like I do,” she whispered. The other buttons followed, cascading down the hard ridge beneath his fly.

  “Sara—”

  She slipped her hand under the elastic of his briefs. “Maybe they didn’t have to wait as long as I did.” Her fingers closed around his stiff cock. Hard as a rock, but as hot and smooth as molten lava, his erection surged and jumped in her palm. Her knuckle grazed the downy hair on his stomach. Sara closed her eyes, savoring the sensation. At long last, he was hard, hot and hers.

  “Please,” he mumbled against her throat.

  She stroked him faster, brushing her thumb over the sensitive tip to collect the pearl of moisture gathered there. Steve growled low and deep in his throat, and she sighed, cast adrift on another wave of desire. He thrust into her hand. Sara planted her other hand on his chest, caressing his chiseled muscles as she urged him to stretch out on the floor.

  His throaty moan turned into a groan when she released him to grasp the waistband of his jeans. The breath hissed from her lungs when his cock sprang free. She wrapped her fingers around him again, her nails teasing the burgundy curls at the base before stroking upward, gingerly exploring the length and breadth of him.