Simply Sex

But she was feeling more than comradely. The warm tickle between her thighs had become a steady throb. She crossed her legs to control it, feeling like a girl in the throes of a crush.

“More wine?” Cole lifted the bottle.

She nodded and when they both reached for her glass, their fingers brushed. Heat shot through her and she took in a violent gasp. Lord, what a weakling she was. “Hiccups,” she lied, faking a second harsh intake of air. She watched him pour the last of the bottle into her glass, the light gleaming off the magenta liquid, and realized the sad truth: Dinner was over. They would part soon. Forever.

She sighed. She couldn’t help it.

“What’s up?” he asked, his tone as affectionate as a friend, his expression as attentive as a lover.

Lover. The word sent chills through her.

“Nothing,” she managed. “I just haven’t done this in a while. Gone to dinner with someone for fun.” She squeezed her crossed thighs tight, trying to quell the relentless throb. She couldn’t act on the feeling. Her purpose was to soothe Cole, not seduce him. It plainly wasn’t healthy to go so long without physical release. Now she’d latched onto the first wonderful, interesting, smart, funny man she’d met.

Cole Sullivan was a find, though, no question. Any woman would react to him. She was human. She had needs.

“I know exactly what you mean,” he said, his eyes twinkling with mischief, and she was pretty sure he shared the sexual frustration, too. “I’m Cole,” he said somberly, “and I’m a workaholic.”

“Hi, Cole,” she said, but then she thought she should be serious for a second. “I don’t think we should have to apologize for working hard. We have goals. You’re fighting for partner. I’m pushing for recognition. When we’re ready to kick back, we will, right?”

“Right.” He grinned with relief. “Exactly. I’m glad you said that.”

“Except you’re looking for a wife, so you must intend to make some changes.” She was curious why he’d paid a matchmaker when he was hot enough to attract plenty of women.

“Some changes, though I hope to find a woman at a point in her career that fits with where I am. Someone who’s willing to help with the social duties that come with being a partner.”

“Ah. You want a corporate wife.” She hoped he wasn’t expecting the adoring little woman, circa 1950, who would meet him at the door naked, wrapped in Saran Wrap, holding a Tom Collins mixed his way. Cole seemed better than that.

“You don’t approve?”

“Some women are okay with that, I guess. My mother gave up an architectural business to go with my dad wherever he got transferred. She never complained, but I think she has regrets about sacrificing her career.”

“I don’t want a woman to give up her work for me, just make room for mine.”

“That makes sense.” It did, she guessed, for the right woman. She hoped Cole found her. Maybe it was Deborah, whom Janie had declared a perfect match.

But here he was with Kylie now and they were sipping the last of their wine and staring at each other in a silence thick with arousal. Maybe just a kiss. The idea roller-coastered through her and her stomach plunged.

“Enough about my marriage plans,” Cole said softly, his flicking cheek muscle signaling the desire she read in his eyes. Her heart began to beat so fast she put a hand to her chest.

“Can I get you anything else?” the waiter asked wearily.

They both started at the interruption. They’d had dessert and coffee, paid their bill, and their table had been cleared long ago. They’d dragged this out impossibly long.

“No, no. We’re fine,” she said.

Cole sipped at his empty wineglass, putting up a pretense of still having something to consume. She was glad he seemed no more inclined to say goodbye than she was. Their connection felt condensed, as though they’d swallowed their friendship as a bullion cube instead of sipping cups and cups of broth.

“It’s hard to believe you need Personal Touch,” she said.

“I take it you don’t approve of dating services.”

She realized how he might take that. “It’s not that. And Janie’s the best. If you need help. But you don’t seem…”

“Like a loser who has to pay someone to get him a date?”

“That didn’t sound right.” She blushed. “I just hate the taste of shoe leather, even flavored with mint and chocolate.”

He chuckled lightly. “I figure I owed the love of my life the same energy I’d invest in a career search. I see Janie as my relationship headhunter. I don’t have time to hit bars or parties, so I see this as a practical answer to a time-consuming problem.”

“It’s efficient, I guess.” When he put it that way it made sense. “If I ever want to settle down, I might do the same thing.” Janie had offered her services many times.

“So, no boyfriend?” His face went from pink to bright red.

“Not right now. I’m too busy. And it gets too…”

“Complicated?” When she nodded, he said, “I’ve been out of circulation for going on two years. Gets lonely.”

“No kidding. I miss sex.” She swallowed hard.

Cole laughed. “That’s cutting to the chase.”

“Why be subtle?” She flamed with a blush all the same.

“Good point. Sex can be a problem for workaholics. The last woman I saw wasn’t happy that I only had time for, well, for—”

“Quickies?”

He grinned sheepishly.

“Boy, do I know what you mean. You have a nice evening—great sex—but you need sleep. Except the guy wants waffles and strawberries in the morning, then there’s more sex and before long the weekend’s lost. So you try to catch up working late all week, but he feels neglected.”

“Exactly. It’s a drag to disappoint someone.”

“I keep hooking up with guys with a lot of spare time and they want to hang out, go to games or concerts or camping or sailing. What little free time I have I like to spend—” she leaned closer and whispered “—watching TV.” She winked. “I’m a secret TV junkie.”

“Me, too. Comedy Central is my favorite.”

“Oh, I live on that station.” The cable network featured stand-up comics, quirky sketch shows and humorous talk shows.

Cole grinned, delighted, she could tell. “I hustle all week so I can watch Friday Night Stand-Up.”

“Bingo,” she said and laughed. He joined her, his eyes twinkling, then settling into something much hotter.

A silence fell. It was clear that neither wanted to leave, but the tables were all empty, the waiters were putting up chairs and somewhere someone vacuumed. Under the table, she felt as if her body were on fire.

“Why can’t sex be simple?” she said softly, wanting very much to take this heat between them somewhere they could quench it. “Why can’t it be a lovely physical encounter between two people who want each other?”

“And afterward they go about their lives,” Cole said, his voice husky with emotion, his gaze level.

“Exactly.”

“We should leave.” Cole nodded at the waiters standing at the bar, shooting them go-home-now looks.

“We could go to my place and…talk.”

“Yeah,” Cole said slowly. “Let’s talk.”

They would do more than that, she knew, by the gleam in Cole’s eye, her pulsing sex and the tension vibrating between them like a note held too long.

This was exactly what she needed—simple sex. A glorious hookup. For one night. Safe and easy. Except for one thing.

“What about Deborah?” she blurted. Would Cole’s perfect match mind sharing him with her?

“Deborah’s the future. This is now. Tonight.”

“I’m so glad you feel that way,” she said, relieved. And a little worried about herself.

It wasn’t like her to jump into something like this. She had a plan, every hour laid out, timed to the minute. Tonight she needed sleep. She had major work tomorrow.

But she didn’t care. Just like accidentally parking in the fast-food lane, she’d turn this mistake into a mint-chocolate shake. And not ruin a suit doing it.

3

WHAT THE HELL are you doing? Cole asked himself, accelerating to keep up with Kylie’s pale blue Accord. She was zipping down the nearly empty streets as though they were in a car chase. He’d like to think she was hell-bent on getting her hands on him, but he was pretty sure her usual pace was breakneck.

They’d only met a few hours ago, but he felt as though he’d known her for years. Toward the end, they were finishing each other’s sentences. They were surprisingly alike. They were even both big tippers. She’d scrutinized the gratuity he’d insisted on paying and it turned out they’d both done stints waiting tables and knew how hard the work was.

Now desire pounded through him like a heartbeat. He glanced up at the moon shining through his sunroof—big and round and so bright it looked fake. He wanted to howl at it like some randy beast. He squeezed the cool leather of his steering wheel and kept driving.

Somewhere in North Scottsdale, he caught the pale flash and bright blink that signaled Kylie had turned into a residential area. He followed, winding through a complex of red tile-roofed townhomes. He pulled into the empty space next to where Kylie parked and noticed the dashboard clock said midnight. It was very late and he had lots of brain work on the Littlefield file in the morning. This was all pretty hasty. Not like him at all. Maybe he should suggest an end to the night, he thought, climbing out of his car. They both needed sleep. She’d understand. Probably be glad.

But she’d leaped out of her car and was heading his way, gaze level, stride determined, and he knew he wasn’t leaving until he’d held this amazing woman in his arms, kissed those lips, touched her everywhere he wanted to touch her.

She was here now. Tonight. How could he pass her up?

She came to him and, without a word, cupped his face in trembling palms, drew his mouth down and brushed her lips against his so softly it was barely a kiss, full of questions like her eyes in the moonlight when she pulled back and looked at him. Do you want this? Should we do this?

She obviously wasn’t as casual about sex as she’d sounded in the restaurant. He was aware of her ribs stretching and subsiding under his palms with each uncertain breath. His cock, hard against her body, knew exactly what it wanted.

“What are your doubts?” he asked her.

“It’s so late.”

“I won’t stay long. You’ll still get sleep, I promise.”

She smiled. “What if it gets complicated?”

“We won’t let it. It will be—what did you call it?—a lovely physical encounter between two people who want each other.”

“And only one night?”

“Not even that. Couple of hours.”

“No expectations? No hurt feelings?”

“None and none,” he said, running his tongue along the edge of her ear, relishing her shiver and quiet murmur. She trembled in his arms.

“What about birth control?” She was struggling to speak. “I’m on the pill…are there health issues?”

“None for me.”

“Me, either. Good.”

She had the shiniest eyes he’d ever seen. He couldn’t even figure the exact color for the gleam. Green, but some brown, too. Smart eyes. Sparkling and intense. And she wanted the same thing he did—sex. He felt a rush of freedom. He was a lucky man.

He slid his mouth over hers and she opened to him, surrendering, melting against him with a sigh. He kissed her deep, wanting in. And she met him with the same urgency.

Desire tightened in him. He shoved a hand between their bodies to flick open her jacket and get at her breast, running his thumb over its knotted tip under the blouse and her bra, moving fast, frantic.

She squirmed against him, then gripped him through his pants. He moaned into her mouth. They staggered a little. They were groping each other, moaning, gasping, knees buckling, acting as if they hadn’t had sex in a long time.

Which they hadn’t.

She broke off the kiss. “If we don’t get inside, my neighbors will call the police…or start videotaping.” She grabbed his hand and he let her tug him forward to her back door and into her kitchen. “Do you want coffee or a drink or some water?” she gasped, pulling at him.

“No. You?”

“God, no.” She hurried them onward. He got an impression of granite counters, glass-fronted cabinets and smelled cinnamon, coffee and some summer fruit, musky and sweet.

Kylie led Cole down the hall toward her bedroom, feeling carnal and wild, just rushing to bed like this. Maybe they should talk a bit. She turned to speak, but Cole kissed her desperately, as if they’d traveled too far without contact, and her doubts slid from her mind like butter from a hot knife.

Cole took charge, nursed the lust, feeding it like a fire so that it swelled and roared between them. Hot chills raced up and down her body and her knees gave way. She needed something to lie on. The bed. If she could…just… make it…there.

She broke off the kiss and tugged him the few remaining feet to her bedroom and then to the bed.

Cole shoved her jacket off her shoulders and to the floor, then grabbed for her blouse buttons. Normally, she’d want to show off the lovely peach-lace bra and panties ensemble she wore, but not now. A primitive message pounded through her… Clothes off…now. Lie on bed… now. Through him, too, it seemed by the way his fingers shook and his breath came harsh and quick. He unclipped her bra, ripped it off and flung it to the floor, then cupped both breasts in his hot hands. The man wanted her so badly he’d practically torn her clothes to get at her. That made her feel powerful.

And weak with lust. She had to get horizontal. She leaned back to fall onto the bed. Cole caught her, though, and reached below her to toss open the bedspread, making pillows fly. One knocked the silk arrangement from the bureau, another made the lamp wobble. “Sorry,” he said.

“I don’t care.” Wreck the place…whatever. The part of her that was careful and thorough and efficient and thrifty seemed to have drowned in desire. She fell to the bed and dragged Cole with her, yanking at his shirt, while he massaged her breasts and she squirmed under him.

In the end he had to unbutton his shirt for her. He tossed it into the darkness, tipping something over, but she didn’t care. She had what she wanted—his naked chest hot against her breasts. He kissed her mouth again in that slow building way, then went lower to run his tongue across a sensitive nipple, one blessed bump at a time.

Oh, oh. Wow. She wanted more of this. More sucking, more licking, more kissing, more nudity. There were still so many clothes, she realized in despair. They’d kicked off their shoes in the earlier madness, but Cole still wore pants and they had her skirt, hose and panties to contend with.

Cole lifted her torso to get at her zipper, but it jammed. This was the one that got stuck.

“Just rip it,” she gasped. “It’s broken.” Well, nearly. And it would be after this.

He looked at her, dark eyes lust hazy, making certain she meant what she’d said.

“Do it. Really.” The faulty fastener stood between them and blessed nakedness.

Holding her gaze, Cole jerked the skirt with both hands. The zipper gave with a dangerous-sounding rip.

“Good,” she said and his eyes flared.

He yanked her skirt off her body, dragging her stockings, too, deliberately using force. He was stripping her. As if nothing could keep his hands off her—not a polyester sure-lock zipper, not Hanes Her Way control top panty hose, not her satin panties, which would have to be cut off, but she did not want him away from her body for a single second. Even though she knew exactly where the scissors were.

He jerked her panties down—almost as satisfying as if he’d shredded them with his teeth—then studied her sex, slowing everything down.

She trembled under his attention, the pleasure in his gaze conquering her anxiety about the way her stomach retained fluid and tended to look bloated, no matter how many crunches she did.

He ran his fingers down her stomach and brushed her pubic hair, setting her newly on fire. She had to touch him, too, but he still wore pants. She went at his belt. He helped her and after a few fumbling seconds, she gripped the lovely length of him.

He moved into her palm, solid velvet. “That’s good,” he said, his dark eyes host to an electrical storm, lightning strikes of lust crackling in their depths.

He slid a finger gently into her cleft, along the side of her clitoris with perfect indirect pressure. Men sometimes rushed to get there and startled the poor thing. He coaxed her higher and tighter and she squirmed under him.

“I want you inside me,” she whispered, longing for that full, tight, glorious sensation.

“I want you on top so I can watch,” he said.

“Sounds like a plan.” She loved how easily they’d declared what they wanted. She rose on her knees, aware of his anticipation, the appreciation in his gaze, and guided him into her slick interior.

He went deliciously deep, filling her to her cervix and she moaned, a long, desperate sound that didn’t even embarrass her. Instead, she did a slow twist on his cock, pushed forward, then back, in an erotic rhythm that made him close his eyes with a groan.

When he opened them, they were on fire. He reached for her breasts, so she bent forward to give them to him. “You’re so beautiful…you feel so…good.” He was fighting to speak, she could tell, struggling to reassure her, which was thoughtful.

When he sucked a nipple into his mouth, she could only make noises and half words, riding his shaft with frantic jerks. The sensation was exquisite—the tight, wet pull on her nipples, the full friction of his shaft moving in and out, brushing her swollen clitoris. It was wet and wiggly and wonderful and almost more pleasure than she could stand.

He gripped her hips and guided her faster, moaning, his eyes rolling back, though he was trying to maintain eye contact with her. She loved that she’d made him crazy, so that he jammed into her with all his might, banged her cervix with sweet force, dug into her hips with his fingers.

She felt him tighten like a stallion collecting its power for a jump, so she knew he was about to come. She increased her pace, wanting to push him over the edge, wanting the power of forcing him to climax.

But he stilled and looked up at her, holding her with his gaze while he deliberately pressed his thumb to her button.

“Oh, oh, oh.” She stilled, then rose high and jammed downward, pierced by a new heat. She pivoted wildly on him and her climax tightened, ticked, ready to explode. Cole was in charge and she was surprised she didn’t mind at all. In fact, it was a relief to just let go and let him do her, stroke her, push her over the edge.

She opened her eyes to look at him, to let him know how grateful she was, how surprised.

“Kylie.” The way he said her name made something inside her give way. Like a breath she’d held too long, a muscle she’d tensed to the point of pain.

Her climax arrived, distracting her, and she cried out, rocking helplessly, lost in sensation, in release, in joy. At the same moment, he pulsed into her. Their climaxes collided like storm-brewed whitecaps that collapsed into a rolling wave that swelled, then lapsed into ebbing ripples of pure bliss.

Kylie fell onto Cole’s chest, panting for air. “That was incredible,” she said, feeling his heart pound against her ear.

“Incredible? Is that all?” His voice was husky with amazement and humor. “I think we violated the laws of physics in there somewhere.”

“I think you’re right.” She snuggled into his chest, slid a leg between his, their mingled fluids making their bodies deliciously slippery.

He wrapped his arms across her back in a soft caress. She wiggled in, eager for a few moments of rest. “I really needed that,” she said, the proof in the deep, pleasurable peace she felt. “I’ve been under a lot of strain lately.”

“I can imagine. With closing out your business.”

“I don’t know that I’ve ever…” Had sex this good. Felt this comfortable with a man. Something about Cole tempted her to blurt intimate truths. She remembered how he’d said her name, the look on his face. I’ve found you, Kylie. You belong to me. We belong to each other. Worse, she’d liked it. She’d wanted to rest in his arms, let go of something. What? What was she holding on to so tightly?

“You don’t know that you’ve ever…?” Cole repeated. She realized his fingers, which had been tickling her skin, had stilled.

“…been so ready,” she finished lamely. She’d been thinking crazy thoughts.

He released a breath. Was he disappointed? Then he chuckled. “Then let me say how lucky I feel to have been handy.” He shifted so he lay on his side looking at her. She did the same. “That was impressive for a first time.”

“It was, wasn’t it? We were in perfect synch.” It was so startling she almost felt like she’d dreamed it.

Feelings crossed his face like wind-blown clouds. You amaze me. I want you again. What’s going on here?

She felt the same. And it scared her.

Cole’s lips moved, about to say something too personal, she’d bet.

Please don’t ruin this. We had a deal, she thought.

“I should let you get some sleep,” he said matter-of-factly, relieving her of that worry. He shifted as if to get up.

She had to grin. She’d used that line herself to escape to her own bed. “Don’t rush off on my account, Cole. We could go again in a bit.”

She watched the idea register. That would be great. Followed quickly by, Better not. “I promised you just a couple of hours,” he said and kissed her before leaning across her to squint at her clock. “One-thirty. You can be asleep by two, and get five hours of sleep before seven.”

“Lie here at least until your heart stops pounding. I don’t want you to pass out in my driveway.”

“Sounds nice.” He smiled down at her, his eyes crinkling with pleasure, his breath soft on her face. In the late-night blackness, his face seemed familiar, like someone she’d looked up at in the dark for years.

He rolled onto his back and pulled her onto his chest, wiggling into the mattress. “This feels good.” He made it sound like a guilty pleasure. Which was exactly what it was.

She cozied onto his chest, feeling more relaxed than she’d felt in months. A man like Cole could be a joy to have around. They were as compatible in bed as they’d been in conversation. She could get used to this.

Again, that odd pain speared her. Sadness. Loss. Where did that come from? Then she remembered. She’d been five and they were moving away from her best friend Patti. It hadn’t been the first move, just the first that hurt. And the last.

That final day she and Patti had played all day. All their favorite games, breakfast through dinner at Kylie’s, joined at the hip, giggling hysterically at everything, squeezing out all the fun they could to the very last minute. Then Patti’s mother came to pick her up. They’d looked at each other and burst into tears. Please don’t go, Patti had cried desperately, her face scrunched with pain. I can’t stand you to go.

Kylie had felt so lost and helpless in the face of her friend’s agony, which mirrored her own, that she felt a sharp pop inside her, like the sound of the garden beans she snapped for her mother. Don’t let it in, don’t let it hurt. That had been the lesson. Kylie had learned it well.

She must be stressed if she was drumming up childhood hurts while lying in a delicious postcoital doze with a lovely man who’d loaned her his body for these few glorious hours.

She kissed his cheek and nestled in, but her tension was back. What if he fell asleep and stayed all night? She had work to do. They’d made a deal.

In the morning when she woke, though, Cole was gone. Relief rushed through her. The knocked-over silk flowers were back on her bureau, her bedspread folded at the foot of the bed, the scattered pillows placed neatly on the bedside chair, and she smelled French roast in the air. He’d made coffee, bless his heart.