Zodiac Series: Aries









 

The Zodiac Series

Aries

Rebecca Williams and Susie Charles

Published 2005 ISBN 1-59578-088-2

Published by Liquid Silver Books, imprint of Atlantic Bridge Publishing, 10509 Sedgegrass Dr, Indianapolis, Indiana 46235. Copyright © 2005, Rebecca Williams and Susie Charles. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the author.

Manufactured in the United States of America

Liquid Silver Books http://lsbooks.com

Email: [e-mail]

Cover Art: by April Martinez

This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents and dialogues in this book are of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is completely coincidental.

 

Book One: Slow Burn

Rebecca Williams

 

In what distant deeps or skies Burnt the fire of thine eyes? On what wings dare he aspire? What the hand dare seize the fire? William Blake

Chapter One

Rebel Pemberton-Blythe was on the warpath. Aidan heard it in the trip-trap of her heels down the hallway toward his office and barely suppressed a smile. He loved it when she was angry. In a bad mood she fairly emanated violence. All the time he’d known her, she’d never failed to fascinate him with the way she could fill a room with her mood. Today he had a feeling that life with his feisty legal secretary was about to become inordinately more interesting. The game was afoot and he had no intention of losing.

“You!”

Typically there was no preamble upon her invasion, only the opening foray into verbal assault. “Reb, if you’re gonna murder me, close the door so there are no eye witnesses.”

“Right.” Without so much as a glance toward the door she shot her foot back and kicked it shut. Any angrier and her hair would be on fire, quite a look for a woman in a navy tailored suit. He much preferred her in red. Red better suited her passionate nature.

“Aidan Quinn, do you have a problem with the way I do my job?”

“Not one.” It was the truth. While she may not have had the perfect temperament for a secretary, Rebel had never once lost his files, she screened phone calls like a champion and was constantly one step ahead when it came to filing forms and scheduling meetings.

“Then why does the entire office think I’m in trouble for having Friday off? I booked it, Aidan. I didn’t leave you in the lurch, all my work will be caught up and Beverly offered to hire a temp so you won’t have to answer the phone. God forbid you should be caught doing something so menial! There is absolutely no need for you to go bitching and moaning your way around the desks telling everyone in sight about how you’re so hard-done-by.”

Closing his eyes in sudden understanding, he cursed the corporate grapevine. “I didn’t bitch. I only told Sondra because I thought it was cute. She must have misconstrued.”

“Misconstrued my ass!”

Suddenly she was leaving. From the length of her stride and the stiff set of her shoulders, Sondra was probably next on her hit list. Rebel had never been one to avoid confrontation, hell, some days he thought she started arguments for fun. While some people enjoyed yoga as a form of stress relief, Rebel much preferred a good yell.

Somehow he got out of his chair, around his desk and across the room in time to fling an arm about her waist.

“Don’t do it Reb,” he warned, dragging her back from the door. Not that Sondra didn’t deserve extermination; she was the poison ivy contaminating the intra-office grapevine. But she was also having an affair with one of the firm’s senior partners. Resting his chin on the top of her head, he acknowledged his own stupidity. He never should have said anything, not even anything nice about his secretary to the viperous and often delusional Sondra.

“Why not? If she’s going to gossip about me, she should be willing to look me in the eye and explain why!”

Rebel hated being contained; especially when she was dying to explode. Now his naïve secretary was stiff as a board in his arms. Her refusal to participate in nasty gossip and innuendo had made her an office darling almost from the day she started work in the Brisbane office. If she had a problem she went straight to the source. No sniping and no holding back. Knowing Rebel, she figured her own honesty would exclude her from any knifing jabs aimed at her back. He thought she gave people too much credit. “You don’t want to annoy her, because she has friends in very high places. Besides, we both know you’re just cranky about turning thirty on Friday. I haven’t forgotten, you know.”

Her knees sagged and she softened against him. With her back aligned along his chest and her lovely derriere pressed against his groin, he wanted to keep her there forever. A happy citrus smell wafted up from her dark cap of curls and he fought not to bury his face in her hair. One deep breath and he plunged back into the real reason for her temper. “We had a deal Reb, and it doesn’t matter how much you yell, what you threaten or how many days you have off . . . Friday night is my night.” From his vantage point, he could see her eyelashes flutter closed.

“You’re very arrogant. You know that, don’t you?”

She was right, he was arrogant, and he’d worked too hard for too long not to be proud of his achievements. Raising a hand, she stroked fingers through the hair at his collar. Tilting her head, she inadvertently offered her throat. He fought the urge to bite her, right where the pulse beat against the line of her jaw.

“That’s why you like me.” He tried to sound relaxed, even though his throat had constricted at her touch.

Hands at her waist, he turned her to face him. Their eyes met and the slow burn they’d kept carefully controlled for three years sprang up with the heat of a blowtorch. His stomach clenched tight and he ground his teeth against the need surging through his bloodstream. Unable to resist touching, he ran a thumb over the dark wing of her ever-mobile eyebrows. She closed her eyes on a sigh.

“You’d better go before we really give them something to talk about.” His throat was tight and his voice emerged hoarse and harsh in the quiet room.

She smiled lazily. “Let them.” Soft lips whispered over his, teasing and promising at once. Amazing how quickly she could flip emotions, anger reforming as mischief, mischief to excitement.

“Rebel,” his warning growl should have been enough to stop her.

“Yep,” she chuckled happily against his mouth.

“Noun, not adjective,” he groaned against the tension building in his chest. His breath burned in his lungs.

“Both.” He felt the smile of her lips against his.

Gripping fingers in her hair, he dragged her close and ate her up. She tasted like strawberries and coffee. Her body curved and clung to him. Tongue sweeping over his teeth, she gave more of herself while tasting him. Returning her onslaught, fire spread under his skin while he bit and sucked at her lips. Everything between them was a tussle. She was soft beneath his hands as he cradled her against him, following the line of her spine with his fingers.

She murmured against his lips, a soft acquiescent sound that unleashed the desire to dominate, the need to have Rebel shaking for him. Christ, he could get off just on the taste of her. They had to stop this now, before they were both roaring to a climax on standard issue, albeit very expensive office furniture. It would be over in a blinding flash of heat if he didn’t ease up right now. He wanted more than hot sex on a cold desk. He was angling for much, much more. Rebel, on the other hand, seemed to have her own agenda. Her teeth nibbled the length of his jaw, sending rivers of passion shivering down his spine. Now was the time. If they went much further, there’d be no going back.

Kissing his way up the creamy line of her throat, he snugged her under his chin, stroked his hands through the softness of her hair and on down her spine, easing them back to reality. Understanding his intent, she let her head rest on his chest; her breath warming his skin through cotton shirt.

By the time the pulse fluttering at the base of her throat had slowed, her brain was back in gear. He could feel the cogs clicking over. “What’s up?”

“You’re doing Phaegan at one.”

“I’d rather do you.”

She smiled against his shirt, burying her face in his chest. “You’re just lucky I ate all my lipstick at lunch or we’d both be a mess and you wouldn’t be making your meeting on time.”

“Oh yeah, that’s what I’m grateful for.”

Arching a perfect eyebrow, she brought him back to order before straightening to leave. “Aidan?”

“Reb?” Single syllables were as much as he could manage when she looked at him with that heated suggestion glimmering from somewhere behind her eyes.

She bit her lip. “Should I clear Friday afternoon off your calendar then?”

Laughing was still too hard, so he smiled instead. “Yes. You really should.”

When the door shut behind her, he navigated his desk and flopped back into his chair. Jesus! Now he knew why he’d instinctively let her win their argument the day he’d turned thirty. She was too scary for words . . . and now she was all his . . . about bloody time too!

* * * *

Rebel wobbled back to her workstation before dropping her forehead to the blotter. Jesus! Obviously thirty was going to be an interesting age; apparently it came with insanity preselected! In the last three months, since Aidan had become a senior associate with Kinsey, Brannigan and Hart and she’d been assigned as his secretary, she’d spent a good long time pretending she didn’t care about her birthday. In reality he’d been right on the money regarding her reason for storming his office. She was completely foul on the whole concept of thirty. Her twenties had been good to her and she’d achieved a lot, but three decades of life was a serious matter. She was officially a grown-up, no longer a girl with time to change her mind about what she wanted from life.

Now, thanks to her big mouth and her innate impulsiveness, it seemed the woman and the girl were about to get all mixed up in thirty.

They’d met as office juniors after all, she a relatively junior secretary and Aidan an article clerk. Together they’d traversed the wilderness of interoffice conspiracies, learned which secrets to keep, who was to be obeyed without question and who could be fobbed off. All the while her heart had skipped beats when he was around, her breath stopping in her throat when he stepped too close. On the twenty-fifth of March 2001, while celebrating her twenty-seventh birthday with co-workers, she’d realised that her work was fast becoming her entire life and might forever remain that way. An eternity spent stroking a keyboard rather than a man had stretched out ominously before her . . . a life sentence. Something had needed to be done, so she’d done it.

A plea bargain. . . A stay of execution.

Swaying drunkenly up to Aidan she’d leant into the solid strength of him and whispered into his ear. “If we’re still doing this ‘work is my world’ crap when we’re thirty Aidan, take me home and . . . take my mind off it!”

Watching him stiffen almost imperceptibly, she’d noted the inadvertent straightening of his spine even though he’d stayed slouched against a bar stool. He’d eyed her cynically, narrowed gaze perusing the length of her body until she’d thought he might refuse her deal. “Let me get this straight. If we’re both single at thirty, you want us to get together?”

“No,” she’d sighed and begun patiently explaining while swirling her straw through the lovely ice of a margarita. “If we’re both still single at thirty, I want us to have sex. Mad, frenzied, mind-blowing sex, until I forget I’m thirty and can’t remember what I do for a living. Deal?”

“Absolutely. No loopholes, no codicils, no amendments. Air tight— right?” He’d chuckled at her description but it had been very off-putting the way he’d hemmed her in. Completely serious, he’d changed the tone of their previously glib conversation in a flash. He did that a lot, she’d noticed, letting her think she was in charge then flipping the tables so quickly she had trouble keeping her balance. In that moment she’d understood why he was such a good lawyer. Aidan was the perfect predator, pretending relaxed indifference until his opportunity arose. In one swift strike, sometimes one terse observation, he pounced, leaving his victims stunned and silent.

She’d flailed in the face of her momentary lack of caution, trying to regain her footing. “Are you implying I might renege?”

“Never!” He clasped a hand to his chest as though aghast at her implication.

“Good!”

A handshake had sealed the deal.

* * * *

Rebel had never backed out of anything in her life, but this was different. This could well turn out to be the stupidest thing she ever did. Lawyers and their secretaries were famous for hot and hurried affairs. The hours they worked and the intensity involved with preparing cases meant hours of close contact, frayed nerves and the creation of an intimate rapport. Once bitterness replaced the relationship, hours of close proximity became a constant torment. The secretaries were always the ones to leave. Rebel didn’t want to leave. She loved her job.

Just as she was about to make a sensible decision, Aidan appeared. Suited and smoothed, with his sandy blonde ruff of curls forced into some kind of order, he looked too good for reason. He stopped in front of her desk, looking down at her and smiled. This was his ‘I know you’ smile, the one he pulled out whenever she flitted nervously away from his touch. She felt a response quiver in the pit of her stomach as her heart stopped dead in her chest. Flattening his palms on her desk, he leaned down so she could smell the spicy fragrance of his cologne. How was it that he even smelled warm?

“Have you cleared my calendar yet?”

“I’m on it,” she confirmed in her best business tone.

“Good. I’m off then. See you at thirty Reb.” He used the same line every time the tension between them got to be too much. Managed the same grin and the same sweep of his hand through the waves of tawny hair.

That was the last straw, damn it!

She was going to have earth-shattering sex with Aidan Quinn if it was the last stupid thing she ever did!

Chapter Two

“So let me get this straight. . .” It was Thursday morning and Rebel had already rung her best friend Antonia for congratulations on a plan well hatched. “— you’re madly in lust with this guy, propositioned him three years ago and he’s not only remembered but has cleared his calendar for you?”

“That’s right.” Rebel felt her cheeks heat at how childish it all sounded.

“You’ve avoided each other all this time in order to be sensible?”

“Yep.”

“Geez Reb, I didn’t think you had it in you! So this is your last hurrah before you settle into a lifetime of boring but sane decision making?”

“Precisely!” Her plan was sounding better by the minute!

“Fantastic! What star sign is he?”

So much for sanity.

“I don’t know! Wait a minute, yes I do, just let me think.” Screwing her eyes shut, she could visualise his birthday. The barbeque on the veranda of his apartment. It had been cold and windy, not the day for a barbeque at all. “End of July, beginning of August!”

“Holy Screaming Muhumbas, Batman! He’s a Leo! That’s awesome, you couldn’t have picked a better lover. Aries and Leo go together like well . . . Aries and Leo, it’s a five-nine compatibility. . .”

Rebel squirmed deliciously at the word lover; then tuned out the rest of Ant’s astrological claptrap. She’d never had a lover before. A series of relationships, but never a lover. Never someone specifically designed for pleasure. She shivered again. It was a damn fine thing Aidan was out of the office for the entire day or there would have been no work done at all. The thought of him being available purely for her enjoyment was enough to create a slow throb in the pit of her stomach and a warm quiver between her thighs. Her clit pulsed in anticipation. She really had to get this day over; the sooner it was over, the sooner Friday would arrive.

“Listen Ant, I have to go, but meet me after work for drinks, okay?”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world, honey, but I’m bringing the book over and you will read it, understand?”

Only Ant could make the importance of reading a book on astrology sound equal to the necessity for taking the pill. “Yes, mum. See you!”

Pressing the button on her phone, she left it and her coffee on the vanity while making adjustments to her outfit. Tucking her shirt in just right, she flipped a red tailored jacket over top. She frowned, running her hands through the unruly mass of curls no amount of straightening could remedy. Even with her hair in a mess, dressed in a blood-red suit, she managed to look prim. How had this happened? How had she transformed from larrikin to librarian in what seemed like no time at all? She sighed, hauling her shoulders down from her ears as she exhaled, staring herself straight in the eye. Responsibility had caused the change in her. Would she be different, more fun, if she’d led a different life? Mirrored eyes hardened with anger at the memories. Probably.

* * * *

“Where are you going?” her drunken father demanded. “Out!” Rage had kept her words away. “When will you be back?”

“When I’m ready!” Today was the last day she’d take his screaming, slapping and smashing. Sixteen years of that was enough for anyone.

“You’re nothing!” he’d screamed down the hall after her. “Nothing but a stupid bitch!” She’d started running through the house, knowing he wouldn’t let her go easily.

Slamming the door on her way out, she’d taken off in her bare feet. Walking until blisters covered her soles, she’d finally taken refuge in an abandoned house four suburbs away. In the silence of her refuge, she’d made promises. Promises to herself, promises to God. She wasn’t nothing. He was nothing. Whatever she did, she would be the best. He’d eat his words and she’d laugh while he digested them!

Responsibility had emerged from its hiding place amongst the shadows in the house. With her good grades in business principles as well as typing and shorthand, the department of social security had been willing to provide her with housing and training at a well-regarded secretarial college. The rest was history. It may have been a career of necessity rather than choice, but she was the best damn legal secretary Kinsey, Brannigan and Hart had ever seen. They paid and treated her well. In return she offered endless hours of overtime and undying devotion.

The door banged shut on her reminiscences and her apartment as she made her way to work.

* * * *

There was a gaggle of chattering women around her desk when she arrived. On top of her filing cabinet sat a giant box wrapped in gold. A matching bow and artfully spiralled ribbons indicated professional wrapping. Rebel grinned, dancing over to join the women. She giggled at the rapt anticipation on their faces. Partners and senior associates always gave exorbitant and extravagant gifts to the most important people in their lives. After all, it was their secretaries who bought and wrapped the presents for all the other special people . . . wives included. Any lawyer with half a brain kept his secretary happy. Presents never hurt.

Just like every other well-mannered girl, she opened the card first. Aidan’s loping scrawl spread across the white interior of a heavy vellum card.

Rebel

How do you like them apples?

Did you know these were once considered aphrodisiacs?

Eat up!

Aidan

Laughter bubbled out of her throat before she could stop it. Blushing, she closed the card before anyone could peek over her shoulder at the message. There was no need to guess at what was in the box, she already knew. Tearing into the paper was part performance, part thrill. Presents were her favourite thing. She loved giving them and getting them. Laughing out loud at the thirty tomatoes neatly stacked into their box, bottoms up, neatly displaying their ‘organically grown’ stickers for her inspection, she surveyed her audience. “They’re my favourite food!” Her face would split in half if she smiled any harder.

Women clapped, laughed, and smiled their approval at Aidan’s choice of present. Rebel automatically began handing out tomatoes, one each so everyone could enjoy her present. Nabbing the salt shaker from her top drawer she sprinkled her own little ‘love apple’ first and then passed the jar on.

In the midst of the decadent groaning that accompanied the dribbling juices and sweet flavour of a tomato lover’s passion, no one but Rebel noticed Sondra’s retreat. The lithe, tanned woman grimaced, her face hard and angry. Putting her fruit on top of Rebel’s computer monitor, she left without a word. Not being a fan of grudges or deep-seated anger, Rebel couldn’t imagine a wound deep enough to cause such a cold, quiet fury. She shrugged, sucking the seeds from the centre of her aphrodisiac. Despite her efforts, she couldn’t please all the people all the time. If Sondra didn’t like her, it was Sondra’s problem, not hers!

Following such a good beginning, the day couldn’t help but drag. Aidan wasn’t due to be in the office all day, so she was able to work her way through a pile of filing and the last couple of Dictaphone tapes left in her file. After that, there was nothing left to do but sit and fidget, wearing her already short nails out on the desktop while waiting for the phone to ring.

“Good afternoon, this is Aidan Quinn’s office.” Thank God, a distraction from her otherwise errant thoughts.

“Good afternoon, this is Aidan Quinn.” She could hear the smile in the seductive purr of his voice. “How did you like them apples?”

The silly grin struck before she could school her face back into its slick secretarial disguise. “We all liked them. You should definitely stay away the rest of the day or you’ll be accosted by a whole gang of sexed-up secretaries.”

His chuckle stopped her heart. “I bought them for you.”

“And I chose to share.” Her rebuttal was quiet but her message was clear. He should not, for one moment, presume to tell her what to do or how to be. A moment’s silence from his end indicated that he got the concept.

“I’m ringing to say that I’ll pick you up at four tomorrow afternoon. We’ll have dinner at my place. I don’t feel like sharing you. Okay?”

Nice save buddy! Without the question at the end of his sentence she might well have conceded a night of passion in favour of principle— just to prove she wasn’t a foregone conclusion.

She’d have ignored the slow roll of pleasure at his words-he didn’t want to share— but, Oh God. Already her body pulsed in anticipation. Closing her eyes, she licked her lips and remembered that he’d asked a question.

“Yes.”

He groaned into her ear. “You should practice saying that. I love the way your voice goes husky when you think about sex.”

Breath hitched in her throat. If she weren’t sitting in an office surrounded by the sounds of other peoples’ work day, she’d be spread across her chair with her hand inside her panties by now. Straightening, she crossed her legs instead. “I have another call. Bye!”

His laughter poured from the receiver all the way from ear to cradle. This was going to be the longest day of her life.

Chapter Three

If Thursday had been the longest day, Friday was vying for the honour of ‘most painful’. Rebel groaned, rolling over, dragging sheets and searching for the source of the tremendous pain in her head. It was the ringing of the bedside phone. Damn these people, did they not understand birthday protocol? She needed a sleep-in to recover.

“Hi, Mum.” Her voice was barely a whisper, something her mother found inordinately funny. “Big night, dear?”

“Yup. . .” she swallowed, acknowledging that upright was no position for a woman with the swirling remnants of too many margaritas in her stomach. “— Ant took me out to drown my miseries. I’m sure we drowned something, but I think misery floats.”

Her mother’s cackle didn’t help her head at all. “I just rang to say happy birthday. I posted your present a couple of days ago so it should arrive today.”

“Thanks, Ma.”

“Go back to bed.” The phone clicked and buzzed as her one remaining parent left her no room for the last word.

Bed was not what she needed. She needed a shower, something to remove the furry socks from her teeth and a super-powered eye makeup remover. Frowning at the mirror, she wondered if she should even try removing the panda bear circles her mascara had left, or whether she would just kill two birds with one stone and drown herself in the toilet.

The phone rang again. Was it getting louder? Goddamn these well-wishers. Next year she was unplugging them.

“Hello?”

“Crabby already, Reb? You really don’t like birthdays at all, do you?”

“Actually I usually love birthdays. Normally I also love mornings.”

“What happened?” The smile in his voice indicated he already knew.

“Last night I had a special affection for margaritas.”

Again the low, sexy rumble of his amusement sent goosebumps rippling across her skin. “Happy thirtieth, sweetheart. The only way is up!”

She smiled. “Such an optimist. Or are you just self-confident?” Rebel could barely believe she was flirting while about to flush the contents of her stomach.

“Both, but I’ll go and let you get on with recuperating . . . do a good job. I want you healthy.”

“Always,” she quipped to dead air. “Drugs will help,” she muttered, fumbling through the cane basket containing every bathroom accoutrement she owned, including makeup and medication. Downing Panadol and Berocca one after the other, she slid into the shower cubicle to sit beneath the downpour and decide whether or not she really wanted to die. Evidently thirty-year-old women did hangovers with much more vigour than their younger counterparts. Rebel stored this vital information for future reference in her ever enlarging thirty-something data banks. She filed it right beside ‘things I’ll never do again!’

She was definitely going to have to stop this trial and error way of life.

* * * *

On arrival at Rebel’s apartment, Aidan goggled at her front door. Blaring through what was seemingly a solid timber door, came the loudest, screaming-est music he had ever heard. She was definitely not going to hear him knock and there didn’t seem to be a bell. At least the music boded well for her recovery. No one even slightly seedy could listen to that music and live. Taking a chance he turned the doorknob. Stepping over the entryway, he moved unnoticed through her flat. Damn if she wasn’t the world’s most trusting human.

He found her in the kitchen, fully dressed, ready to go, and sucking tomato seeds off a plate. There was no need to sneak, she had no idea he was there. Placing his hands on her hips, he elicited exactly the response he’d expected. Rebel leapt into the air, swore vehemently and came within a centimetre of cracking his skull with her crockery.

“Jesus Christ, what’s wrong with you?” she yelled over the stereo. “You’re lucky I wasn’t holding a knife!”

“You’re lucky I wasn’t!” he bellowed back.

Turning her head so her ear faced slightly in his direction, she nodded, acceding the point. When she looked back at him her eyes were laughing as if to say ‘you think that’s a win, buddy?’ Sidestepping him, she walked across her lounge room to mute the stereo.

“Who are those people you let yell at you?”

Rolling her eyes, she sighed at his apparent ignorance. “They were the Sex Pistols.”

“Punk.”

“Yup.”

“You don’t expect me to learn to love them do you?” He grimaced at the concept, unable to imagine why anyone would want to be screamed at in their spare time.

“I don’t expect you to love anything about me, except maybe my startling intellect, my amazing ability to keep you organised, and my overwhelming desire to take you to bed.”

Now there was a comment designed to create instant anger. He actually felt his eyes narrow and his nostrils flare while he tried tempering his instantaneous reaction. Rebel could do this to him in a wink and not even notice. Like now— she’d fired that comment off, slipped into her shoes, picked up her handbag and was calmly waiting for him like nothing was wrong. Three years of being around her, breathing her in, soaking up her laughter, rebutting her rage and she thought he wouldn’t love her?

He hadn’t spent three whole years waiting for her, of course. Both of them had linked up with other people. None had lasted. Sane women leapt quickly to another bed when they realised he was rarely in his. Rebel, on the other hand, not only understood the long hours he worked but joined him in them. She made coffee strong enough to melt a spoon, danced around boardroom tables when late night tension needed an outlet, and encouraged him to fight harder or dig deeper when he knew he was right. Oh yeah, he’d adored her from afar long enough; it was long past time they got closer.

All the memories of her buoyant presence in his life eased his temper. “I bought you a present.” It would be best if he gave it to her before he ate her for dinner.

“You already gave me a present.”

“That was just me playing with you. This is the real thing. I couldn’t think of one present that would say everything I wanted it to. I bought the tomatoes so you’d know how much I love your smile. I knew they’d make you laugh. This one is just because I thought they’d suit you.” She blinked when he said the word love; maybe even backed up a step. When she didn’t say anything, he pulled the velvet box from his pocket and watched her eyes grow huge with shock. Flicking up the lid he held this present out for her inspection.

“Oh Aidan, you shouldn’t have done this, they’re too much for me.” He liked watching her caught off guard. Her hands fluttered. She swallowed hard and her eyes shone while she tried to decide how to act.

“Actually they’re perfect for you. I did some research, diamonds are your birthstone.” In truth he’d asked the woman in the jewellers but he’d known instantly that it was a perfect concept. Diamonds— tough and bright, transparent but reflecting rainbows in the right light. Forged in heat and pressure, the stones were perfect for Rebel. Now the earrings glinted and sparkled in the afternoon light pouring through the windows of her apartment.

Her hands shook while she secured them to her ears. “Thank you.” She stood quietly while he observed the way the gemstones sparkled against her skin. She was nervous beneath his gaze, her eyes sliding to the floor, clasping her hands together while she waited.

“Are we going to your place or are we going to stand here looking at one another for the night?”

Slowly he let his inspection move from her to her surroundings. “I’m just checking out your apartment. It’s nice; maybe we should stay here. Mine’s new, hardly any furniture.” In fact, her decorating style was stunning. White walls surrounded him, the starkness of a hospital colour broken by frameless canvases in a riot of bold bright colours. Red and orange vases sat on low tables by her black leather lounge. Scattered across the couch was a range of vibrant cushions, red, hot pink, orange and yellow in silk, faux fur and textured weaves. Oddly, none of it clashed and all of it looked serviceable. Rebel was not a person to buy something for its looks alone. Why then was she treating him like he was only good for one thing? He had a theory about that, and now that their relationship had stepped up a level, it was time to test out his beliefs regarding her.

She was also really bad with standing still. In the face of his prolonged inspection of her flat, she was fidgeting like a schoolgirl in her first bra. “Come on Aidan, you promised to take me away from it all. This. . .” she made an expansive gesture to encompass the room. “— is ‘it all’.”

He smiled at her impatience. Her irritation with any kind of dawdling or ineptitude made her a great secretary. Rebel cut through red tape like a chainsaw through butter. She was going to make a very interesting girlfriend— provided he could talk her into the concept.

His eyes came to rest on the two books resting on her coffee table. “Astrology?” Not a very Rebel topic, unless there was a whole alternative side to her personality he knew nothing about. Doubtful. Rebel was an open book. Most of what she thought came out her mouth.

“Yes, both my mother and best friend think my only hope for romance is to find some poor sucker who’s destined for me. Someone I can’t frighten away no matter what.”

“You frighten people?”

“Snorting is distinctly ungentlemanly,” she observed dryly.

Ignoring her twitchy behaviour he continued. “So what star sign might your brave beloved be?” Just asking the question had jealousy twinging in his chest.

She sighed and shrugged. “Leo. Look if I stand here much longer I’ll grow roots.” So saying, she turned to leave, with or without him.

“Leo?” So they were destined were they? Of course they were; she knew it too, she just wouldn’t admit it yet. Heart pounding, he caught her up on the way out the door, scooped her back, and pinned her between the door frame and his chest.

“Yes, Leo, but don’t let it go to your head.”

“I won’t, I’ll let you do that for me. I forgot to tell you how fabulous you look.”

“Oh.”

Her eyes were round and shimmering grey. Finally she was lost for words. He liked her eyelashes most. Black and long enough to curve shadows on her cheeks, her lashes made her look childlike. If it weren’t for the wicked tilt to her lips, she’d almost have passed for an innocent.

Leaning forward, he brushed those lips with his own. Her mouth opened instantly for him but he felt the tension still in her. She was nervous. While she would never admit it, her body spoke volumes. To begin with, she was still, her body taut against him. She let him take the lead, her mouth soft and pliant beneath his. Then she was there with him. He heard the inrush of her breath, felt her relax and curve her body to greet him. Her tongue tangled with his, wet and salty from the tomatoes. When she bit down and sucked his tongue into her mouth, his gut clenched in response and he groaned. Here was an equal, a woman who would possess even as she surrendered. Desire scorched along his skin. He gripped the timber frame above her head, fighting to keep from crushing her into him.

Her fingers caught in his hair, urging him closer until the kiss had an almost violent intensity. Incapable of stillness, her hands roved down his neck before resting briefly over his heart. When she tugged his shirt from the waistband of his jeans, he knew they were never going to make it out of her apartment.

“Reb, we’re staying here.”

“Good.” The single word was spoken while she bit his lip and worked her hands under his shirt.

Crushing her to him, he trapped her hands where they were, slammed the door shut and finally stumbled them to the edge of the floor rug at the foot of her couch.

* * * *

From the second the door closed, Rebel knew she was a goner. All the time they’d worked together, she’d tried not to care about the women he picked up around the place. After this, she would care. Possessiveness was as much a part of her nature as laughter. The door had closed, the window was open and she was flying.

She shivered when he found and slid down the side zipper of her strapless dress. He peeled the cotton fabric away from her skin; then nipped and licked his way down her neck and shoulders to her breasts.

“Oh God, Aidan!” Her voice was loud in the room. She clutched at his shoulders trying to hang on while shot after shot of red-hot pleasure coursed from breast to clit then back again. Finally, a man who knew she wasn’t spun glass, who responded to the fire in her with heat of his own. His warm hands banded her ribcage while he dragged her breast further into his mouth, working his teeth and tongue over her nipple until she was torn between pain and pleasure.

Rebel felt her knees collapse when a big hand moved between her thighs. Two fingers moved over her clit and her blood burst into flames. He sprawled her out before him on the soft chenille floor rug and continued to torment her. Sharp teeth nipped at the soft flesh of her thighs, hard enough that she arched her back from the floor, but gentle enough to make her beg for more. Red ribbons of searing pleasure unfurled in her stomach, coiling and stretching through her body. Heat surged across her nerves, making her shake and quiver, waiting for the next stroke, another rough bite of her flesh. If they didn’t hurry she was going to explode all by herself.

“Please, Aidan. I want you inside me.”

Kneeling up, he stripped off the white-collared shirt, exposing the broadness of his chest and shoulders. Brown, lean and muscled, so strong, the sight of his body made her moan and reach for him. “Wait a minute, sweetheart.”

Watching while he unbuttoned his fly to roll on a condom was a tantalising tease. She’d never seen him like this— a hundred percent male and proud of it. Shifting her legs further apart, he helped himself to her body.

“Don’t! Don’t make me wait! I can’t!” His lips were already at her clitoris. His fingers held her open and she was going to die if he wasn’t inside her soon. Replacing his lips with clever fingers, he slid back up over her body. Anticipation and pleasure melted into one.

“This is it Rebel— for both of us. You know that don’t you?” His eyes met hers, hazel backlit with amber. He had a hunter’s gaze, focussed while his prey writhed beneath him.

Relentless fingers drew her closer to the edge of orgasm and she whimpered. “Yes!”

Rewarding her response, his mouth came back to hers and he eased the tip of his penis inside her. Breath hissed past her teeth and sensation scored streaks through her body. There wasn’t a part of her left that wasn’t shaking with the need for him. In one thrust, he obliterated her senses. She stretched and curved and squirmed beneath him. She bit at his shoulder trying to be quiet. He growled, sinking his own teeth into the flesh of her neck. The rest was a rush, a screaming, aching, desperate rush for completion. She clutched at his biceps; dragged nails across his backside feeling him clench in response.

He shifted, kneeling while still inside her. Strong hands supported her hips while his thumb rubbed at her clit while he plunged hard into her. Rebel moaned, wrapping her legs around his hips, anything to bring him closer while she shuddered and shook. Without his body to cling to she was lost. Twisting her hands in the rug, she let go of all control, falling into the rapture his fingers and body created. Then she was gone.

Evaporated in the blaze.

It took a while for the world to condense back to reality. Waiting for descent to finish, she kissed and sucked her way along the line of his shoulders and throat. A whole weekend of this might kill her. But baby, what a lovely way to burn!

Chapter Four

Driving Rebel to his apartment was an exercise in torture. Dishevelled and still smelling of sex, he’d never seen her so unbuttoned before. Gone was the prim and proper secretary, replaced by this sexily relaxed wanton of a woman. Knowing there was no underwear beneath her dress didn’t help him concentrate on the road either.

All but dragging her from the car to the elevator, he’d kept his hands on her the whole way. The small of her back, the curve from neck to shoulder, the small span of her wrist, they all beckoned constantly now he was allowed to touch her.

In the shiny silver cubicle she smiled lasciviously.

Catching her against him, he dragged her close so she could feel how hard he was for her. “No way, Reb, this is between us. You, me and nobody else, not even the chance of them.”

He felt her tense, saw her frown and knew the cause. Rebel hated being pushed. Taking account of her history, he could understand that, but by the end of the weekend, she’d know she could be soft and safe. Meanwhile, it was highly unlikely that he would ever have another soft moment in his life. The very thought made him grin.

Entering his new apartment was still a thrill and leading Rebel through the door gave him an extra jolt of pride. A long slow whistle of appreciation left her lips as she admired the view. The red cliffs of Kangaroo Point were a dramatically floodlit panorama from his balcony. He wanted to make love to her against the full-length windows with the crimson world behind her.

She must have read his mind. “Nice view. Come over here and help me appreciate it.”

In an instant she was naked in his living room, and his throat went dry at the sight of her. He felt weighted with awe. Moving slowly toward her he reached out, brushing the backs of his knuckles across an already taut nipple. A shiver rippled through her, and again the desire to possess her tore at him. Her eyes didn’t leave his.

“You’re making me nervous, Aidan. Take some clothes off.”

Not needing to be told twice, he stripped while she watched. He could feel her eyes on him, so he went slowly. Quietly thanking God for the gym in their office building, he allowed her the freedom to view.

She closed the distance between them quickly. She started with his back, pouring nipping kisses around his ribs, licking her way along his spine and over his shoulders. Anticipation shimmied under his skin. Her slender hands wandered over his hips, trailing sparks behind her touch, making him edgy with her teasing. Shivering and waiting wasn’t his style. There wasn’t a cell in his body that didn’t want to be buried in her right now. He wanted his ferocious Rebel back. The sharp edge of her teeth on his hipbone made him groan.

Rebel’s mouth closed over the head of his shaft. Need swept through him like wildfire. He clutched his hands in the soft curls of her hair, gritted his teeth and hung on for dear life. Hot and wet, her tongue swirled trails of fire through the vortex of pleasure engulfing him.

“Reb, stop! I can’t do this.” The building quiver in his stomach indicated it wouldn’t be long before he was shot into orgasm and he wanted her with him.

She moved her mouth, but smiled against the still wet skin of his penis. “You can’t? I never thought I’d see the day!” The mocking challenge her voice and the delighted chuckle that followed was the last straw. Even as she smoothed a condom over his straining erection, she was still teasing, relaxed, and completely at ease while she tortured him. He didn’t want her relaxed. He wanted her strung out and panting for him.

Dragging her up, he backed her against the window, gratified by her gasp at the cold glass against her skin. Angling his mouth across hers, he let the force of his need be known. Rebel didn’t shy away. She met him in the flames and dragged him higher. Somehow, she moved against him, sliding her body across his skin. The friction was divine. The deeper, husky tone in her voice when she moaned, rolling her head against the glass, told him all he wanted to know.

“Oh God, Aidan. Yes!”

Another time he might have played with her, made her wait, or had her come before him. But, the primitive desire to dominate, the need to grasp fire, flew through his system. Hands at her waist, he held her still. He watched her eyes widen when he eased into her. She arched her body to meet his rhythm, clutching and sucking at his shoulder.

“Harder. Oh God, don’t stop!”

Tight and hot, the sheer pleasure of her threatened his sanity. Her voice and breath in his ear urged him on. He thrust harder, feeling her cling, straining at the edge of orgasm.

When her climax pulsed around him, he groaned and let go.

She shivered and shook in his hands while the embers of their inferno kept her sensitive to his every move. She was his now. There was no coming back from this. Fast and hot as lightning, she was seared across his heart.

Chapter Five

Today was going to be interesting. Rebel stepped out of the elevator into the plush offices of Brannigan and Hart, dressed as though the world was still the same. No one else would know about the twinges in her body or the tiny bruises on her thighs where Aidan had bitten his way along her skin. There probably wouldn’t even be a difference in their working relationship. She was panicking about nothing. Everything would be fine. Breathing deeply, she dumped her leather satchel by her desk and pulled out his calendar. Everything would be just dandy . . . if she could just figure out how to breathe when he was in the room.

Callovers. She was about to spend the morning making court appointments for Aidan. While it sounded easy, the task became ever more difficult with each new client Aidan brought to the business. The whole debacle grew worse still when every judge was convinced that only their time was too valuable to be wasted. Why they didn’t just get together and sort out court schedules themselves, she would never know. Perhaps they really enjoyed picking on the plebs sent to beg favours. Already her jaw was tight from gritted teeth.

She left a brief note for Aidan explaining her whereabouts. He should already know every Monday was callover day. The note was still necessary, for while he was very good at keeping his own appointments in order, he paid absolutely no attention to the routines of others. Stuffing his calendar back into her kit bag, she was back in the elevator within ten minutes.

* * * *

Half a day spent saying ‘please sir’ left her head pounding. One day she was going on a killing spree. Judges chambers would be her first ports of call.

Aidan found her in the staff room, the intact Panadol packet in her hand, fumbling through the cupboard for her glass. Her glass was special. Beverly the office manager had given it to her upon completion of her traineeship. Now it reminded her of how far she’d come.

“Tough morning?” His hands on her shoulders sent awareness zinging through the rest of her body. He nuzzled her hair and lipped his way down the back of her neck. Ignoring the pain in her head, her stomach quivered in response.

“You’re really going to have to figure out a way to be in more than one place at the same time. Doing your callovers is making me sick.” Arching an eyebrow, she waggled the packet under his nose. At least he had the decency to look apologetic. The packet crackled when her shaking fingers began popping pills from their tray, one after the other.

“How many of them are you planning on taking?” He frowned, swiping the box from the bench. “Four.”

“The box says two.”

“The box is lying. Two just gives it a tickle. Four gives it an arse kicking!”

His hands came back to her shoulders, kneading the tight muscles tension created. “You should go home if you’re unhealthy.”

She stiffened. “Would you say that to anyone else or would you expect them to get over it and get on with it?” The lack of response was answer enough. “Don’t treat me any differently please, Aidan.”

“You are different.” He bit at her earlobe and a brief hot flash ripped along under her skin.

“Not here,” she bit back, unwilling to become fodder for the office rumour mill. “Here I’m just a secretary.”

Aidan dropped his hands to his sides. “I’ll be out the rest of the afternoon. I’ll see you tonight. We’ll talk then.” His voice was frosted and his body stiff with anger when he spun and left.

Watching him go, Rebel sighed, rested her head on the cabinet over the sink and tried to calm her nerves. She was right, damn it! She would not make their relationship public knowledge; she would not jeopardise her reputation and he had no right to expect that she would— even if she did love him. Not that she’d be volunteering that information any time soon. Aidan was, by and large, a commitment-phobe. If she was going to keep him around for any time at all, there would be no mentioning love. Lust was good. She could live with lust, provided it stayed private.

Decision made and painkillers already starting to work, she made her way back to her desk. Pulling files for the next week’s appearances, interviews and research, she swore when two or three were missing. They’d be in Aidan’s files. He was extraordinarily bad at keeping everything in its place, something about which she was pedantic. It felt odd, yet somehow comforting, to realise how much she already knew about him.

Pulling open the drawer of his filing cabinet, she found Phaegan’s file lying horizontally over top of the others. Tutting to herself she removed the folder before beginning the search of his cabinet and drawers for the other two truant dossiers.

She found them in the second drawer of his desk. His junk drawer. She shook her head. The man had no idea. Since when were client files ‘junk’? Hefting the thick cardboard wallets into her arms, she swept her eyes across the contents of the drawer in case anything had fallen from them. Face down in the drawer beneath his stash of envelopes, ink pads, stamps and Dictaphone tapes was a photo.

Feeling sneaky she reached for the glossy paper, expecting an embarrassing photo of him as a boy, maybe his mum or even his nephew for whom he was both proud uncle and godparent. She had not expected to find Sondra staring back at her. Sondra smiling, happy, and wrapped in Aidan’s arms. There was snow behind them; it looked like the blue mountains. They’d been on holiday together. Her blood ran cold while she stared at the cosy couple they made. Mind blank, feeling suddenly sick, she dropped the photo back into his drawer and shoved it shut. That’s what she got for sneaking. No— that’s what she got for caring.

Everything seemed very clear. His desire that she not confront Sondra about her nasty gossip, implying she was bonking her boss. Sondra’s need to defame her and her cold, bleak expression yesterday. While everyone else had slurped up salty tomatoes, Sondra had been eating the bitter fruit of betrayal. All the pieces clicked together in her head; fury followed fast on the heels of realisation.

Dumping the recovered paperwork on her desk, she automatically dialled the office manager’s number. Beverly answered on the second ring.

“Have you got a minute? I really need to talk to you.”

* * * *

It was six o’clock when he arrived in the underground carpark beneath Rebel’s building. He’d just hung up from a Beverly earbashing that had him biting his tongue and scowling at everything. His temper was right next to boiling point, probably not the way to approach his wounded woman, but he was here now and they’d have to sort themselves out sooner or later. They’d already wasted too much time pussyfooting around. If they were going to brawl it was going to be now.

He took the stairs two at a time, in hopes of working off some adrenaline before he found out Rebel’s side of the story. From behind her door came the delicate strains and flurries of piano music. How could someone listen to the Sex Pistols one day and classical music the next? He sighed. Getting used to the extremes inside the woman for whom he was fated was certainly going to be a challenge. And he was going to teach her to lock doors if it killed him!

Again she was in the kitchen.

“I just got off the phone with Beverly.” This time she didn’t jump at his presence, nor did she turn from the sink where she was washing dishes.

“Lucky you,” came the sarcastic reply, laden with a side order of indignation.

“She tells me that upsetting someone as stubborn, ill-tempered and determined as you is no mean feat. She also said that if I didn’t get my butt over here and make amends I would never get another secretary ever again!”

For half a second he saw her soften as though sadness was the only thing she felt. Then before he could touch her, she was rigid with anger. He knew this posture well. Anger and its many incarnations had always been her fallback position. When she was hurt, sad or frightened, Rebel displayed rage. He knew how it was— it was much easier to be angry than anything else. The heat of temper cauterised other feelings.

The photo of him and Sondra had been laying face up, accusing him of some kind of wretched betrayal when he’d gone looking for Phaegan’s file this afternoon. When Beverly rang with a tongue-lashing of monstrous proportions, he’d known the photo had something to do with all of it. Now instead of telling him exactly what was wrong, Rebel was raging.

“Get out of my house.” Every word was clipped and tight. She didn’t even turn to look at him.

His heart stopped beating. Fear slithered down his spine. He was torn. If he left, she’d never let him back; if he stayed they were going to fight like there was no tomorrow. No holds barred, winner take all. He had to win; she was the only woman in the world who made him wonder if he could. “I will not. We’ll deal with this now. I have no intention of getting another secretary. I don’t want one. I want you.”

“Yeah, me and every other available secretary.” When she did turn, her eyes flashed silver with accusation. Barely suppressed fury had her hands shaking when she turned to fill the kettle. “No, Rebel, I only want you.”

“Why? Because I keep you in order, know what size socks you wear when you turn up from the gym doing your Michael Jackson impression, or because I run for hours on a cup of coffee and four Panadol? We’re secretaries, Aidan. We’re all the same, in bed and out of it, apparently.”

So she was jealous was she? Well, that was a start. If she was jealous at least she cared for more than his penis. Even as he registered this one small victory, the rest of him hummed with outraged resentment at her implication. He did not run through secretaries like some kind of tomcat. Snarling before he could swallow his words he rose to the bait. “You are mine, Rebel. I have waited long enough for you and I will not let you use any stupid reason to brush me off like I mean nothing.”

“I am not stupid! I don’t belong to anyone and I won’t become part of your little office harem! I am not just another notch on your bedpost and I will not play second fiddle to Sondra. And you’d better believe that I have no intention of becoming ‘poor Rebel’ on the fucking office grapevine. Jesus! I’m a walking fucking cliché, won’t they have a field day with that?!” She was shouting at the top of her lungs by the time she’d finished. Lightning snapped and flashed in her narrowed eyes while her lips curled to sneer at him. Her hands flailed madly as she spoke, even the one holding the kettle. Heat roiled off her in great rolling waves.

She’d always been her most magnificent when at war.

“Shut up, Rebel!” Roaring was the only way to make her listen.

“Get out of my house!” Her voice was half frightened plea, half irate fury. The kettle smashed against the wall beside his shoulder. Water dribbled down to the floor and darkened the fabric of his suit coat. Hundreds of little pieces of plastic landed on the floor and stuck to his jacket. Piano music tinkled in the background. “Oh!” Fingers came up to cover the sob strangling in her throat and mouth. Her eyes went wide with horror. She backed out the kitchen door and into her living room.

* * * *

Rebel felt sick. Tears blurred her vision. Stumbling to lean against the back of her sofa, years of smashing and violence flashed before her eyes. What had she become? Ant had spent a long time assuring her that she was nothing like her father. She was exactly like him.

Aidan stood silently in the doorway before her, fists clenched at his side. Small pieces of plastic still stuck, incongruously white against the navy blue of his jacket. His eyes were glowing amber with the anger he’d reined in. Enraged like this, he was a magnificent specimen. All taut muscles and golden fury. He stepped toward her and she almost shrank back. Pouncing, he snaked an arm about her waist. She shivered on contact with him. The lips that met hers were punishing. Teeth got in the way, clashed and moved to allow for the fencing of tongues. Hands moulded her body to his and fierce pleasure shot through her.

Being kissed this way was like drinking fire. She needed the heat of him to scour away her fears, her hurts and insecurities. Angst and constant craving melded and melted in her bloodstream. Rebel dragged him closer, feeling his heart thundering in his chest. He bent her over his arm, his hand keeping her still while he scraped the edge of his teeth down her throat. This was a game of domination, did he expect her to succumb? His mouth closed on her breast, biting and sucking through the stretchy fabric of her sundress. She whimpered, gripping with her fingers in his hair, bringing him closer.

Aidan’s hand coasted over her ribcage to cup and mould the breast abandoned by his mouth. Sobs escaped her lips when he pinched and rolled her already tight nipple between long brown fingers. They sank to the floor together, him nestled between her thighs, his hands supporting the arch in her back while she bowed, hungering for the return of his mouth. Somewhere in this fight she’d lost her mind. “More, Aidan, I want all of you.”

His hands moved to grip hers. Sliding them in ever upward he pinned both wrists against the floorboards with one hand. “Is that what you want Reb? All of me, or would you prefer one part in particular?” He thrust against her— hard so she couldn’t mistake his meaning. Suddenly, even as they continued to stroke her, his hands felt disrespectful. She writhed beneath him, trying now to escape his touch rather than looking for more. Instead he pulled her wrists further up, stretching her out beneath him. “NO! You will listen.” His voice growled angrily and his scowl returned. “I’m not here to play games. I dated Sondra before you even came to work at the office. We lasted all of a month and a half and you would have known that if you’d bothered to ask instead of flying into a tantrum.”

“I don’t have tantrums,” she bit back, wriggling to ease the tension in her shoulders. “Really?” he tilted his head as though carefully recalling their last scene. “I believe there’s a kettle in the kitchen that would beg to differ.”

She huffed. “You could have told me. You knew I’d hate it. I hate being. . .” she floundered around for the right word. “I hate being ordinary!”

Again the warning rumble vibrated in his chest. He moved deliberately against her skin. “There is nothing ordinary about this!” His tongue returned to lave at the nipple straining through her dress. The skirt had rucked up to her waist in their tumble to the floor and confident fingers pushed under the fabric of her panties. She gasped when they slid through the slick folds of her sex, running over her pulsing clit. Excitement snapped sharp along her skin. “Much as you might not agree, I am not some sex fiend, scoring at every opportunity. I don’t do ordinary. I don’t wait for ordinary either.”

His fingers flickered and slid inside her. “Oh God, stop! I can’t think.” Her mind was flooded with him. The way he smelled, the rough whiskers of his jaw against her neck, the power of him, sparked new delights in her. She’d never been overwhelmed by anyone before, and it was delicious. Her feet scrabbled on the slippery timber floor while his thumb brushed over her clit.

“I don’t want you to think, Reb, just feel.” Lacy panties slithered down her legs before his hand returned. Fingers scraped through her pubic hair. He teased her, spreading the wetness from his fingers down her thighs. Attentively, he returned to her most sensitive spot, circling and flicking. She twisted beneath him, pressure curling and building in the pit of her stomach, threatening to explode into the fireworks of an orgasm.

She didn’t want to come first; it would be a victory for him if she did. She’d have surrendered. With her wrists still captured, stroking him wasn’t an option. Instead she moved the thigh he straddled, shifting it to massage the erection pressing against her leg. A groan escaped his throat, a fine start for her retaliatory intentions.

“Talk later, Aidan. I want you now.”

He released her hands to roll away and shuck his jacket. Rebel took her chance. Pushing him back to the floor, she straddled his hips and unbuttoned his shirt. Sliding her hands over his lovely broad chest, she kissed him with all the feral feelings he’d provoked. Forcing her tongue deep into his mouth, she invaded him.

“I thought we’d finished fighting.” The words and his breathing were harsh. Stomach muscles rippled and contracted at her touch. Power slid alongside adrenaline in her blood.

“We have, I’m about to win.” She knew he’d have condoms in his pocket. Shaking the packet like a salt sachet, she tore it open with her teeth. Smoothing the sheath down over his shaft, she revelled in the way he thrust toward her. Salt flavoured his skin when she leaned forward to lick at his chest, delving into the dips between muscles and laving over top of them. Victory was going to be sweet and slow— or maybe not!

He flipped her under him, settled her knees over his shoulders and thrust inside her. She was tearing apart in an instant. Buried deep, he reared over her and pushed deeper still. Sparks and flashes shot outward every time he moved. Orgasm coiled tight, tickling and teasing, threatening to explode. She was pinned, almost unable to move, certainly unable to take control. Frantic, she panted and whimpered, curving her spine away from the floor while her muscles tensed.

“Please, Aidan. Please!”

Surrender felt heavenly. He was fast inside her. Fast and hot and deep. Her short nails dug into his forearms when her world flew into a million tiny frissons of screaming pleasure. Aidan’s drawn out purr of satisfaction filled her senses as she was flung into the searing blaze of a shuddering climax.

Rebel rebuilt herself slowly. Aidan eased her knees from his shoulders but stayed over her. Weight on his elbows, he stroked her hair, kissed her forehead and spread butterfly kisses along the curve of her jaw. Aftershocks still shivered along her skin and pulsed inside her. The gentleness in his touch soothed her shattered nerves; made her feel treasured.

“Don’t ask me to go, Reb. I won’t.”

Closing her eyes. She surrendered. “No. Don’t go.”

Chapter Six

Aidan didn’t know how it had happened. He’d never had sex in anger before. While it had started as a way to make her pay attention to him, it hadn’t finished that way at all. Rebel had a way of meeting him in the middle and twisting his plans. Even though he’d kept her pinned beneath him, she’d not been frightened or worried. She’d relished the feel of him. The taste of her skin and heat of her body convulsing around him had created a riot of his senses. What had begun as a battle had ended as a bond.

Looking at her now, he felt his heart melt. She was fragile and fierce all at once and his instinct was to care for her. Scooping her up against his chest he made for her bedroom door.

“We have to talk, right now.” They needed to sort themselves out before he lost his mind. He wasn’t designed for this constant flip-flopping of emotions.

Her hand pressed flat against his chest her big eyes overcast with worry. “Not the bedroom. Let’s not fight in the bedroom.”

He chuckled at her lack of logic. Hadn’t they just created a sexual war zone right here in the lounge room? “We’re not going to fight, but just the same we should probably avoid the kitchen as well. Too many sharp objects.”

She closed her eyes, a furrow forming between her brows. “I’m so sorry.”

Again he heard tears threatening her voice. Burying his face in her soft, damp hair, he inhaled the warm, sexy smell of her. Settling her into his lap, he sat on her sofa. She curled into him like a kitten. So small, soft and easily broken, despite her arguments to the contrary.

“You yelled at me in my own house.” Her voice was flat and quiet. “I was never going to live with that again. I was so furious with you.”

Groaning at the realisation of how he must have frightened her, he pressed kisses to the top of her head. “I’m sorry; I never meant to scare you. I lost the plot when I thought I was losing you.”

“No, it was my own fault. I jumped to conclusions. I was jealous. I was stupid.”

He grimaced at her list. Accompanying the list were her tears, big and shiny. They rolled down her smooth cheeks unchecked. “No, I like that you were jealous.” Pleasure wrapped around his heart at the notion.

“You do?” She eyed him askance, as though he’d lost his mind.

This was it, his big chance, his closing argument. He needed to convince her now, that she was what he wanted— all he had ever wanted. “Yeah. I figure it’s a fairly good sign that I mean something to you.”

“I— uh— well yes, you do.” She looked everywhere but at him. Patently, she was more afraid of him than he’d been of her.

“That’s great.” He held her chin in his fingers, made her look him in the eye when he spoke. “Because I love you, Reb.”

“You do?” The repeated question now sounded incredulous and he heard real questions beneath her words. How could you love me? Her father was lucky he was already dead. Aidan would have taken special delight in repaying him for the injuries he’d inflicted on Rebel. Instead he stroked fingers over the smoothness of her thigh, enjoying her responsive quivers. “Why did you wait so long?” Finally she’d asked a question he could answer.

“I tried like all bloody hell to stay away from you.” He shrugged, trying to convey wordlessly how discomfiting it had been to know what they’d be like but at the same time not want to give up his freedom. He’d thought it would feel claustrophobic after a time. Now he understood— Rebel wouldn’t cage him, she’d drag him into new adventures, kicking and screaming if she had to. Knowing tonight, how it would be with them forever, he could tell her how he felt. He felt his chest filling with adoration for her. “I knew you’d be the one. I knew that after you, there’d be no one else. Every time I convinced myself I could fill your place with others, I’d hear you making fun of the mail girls or laughing your head off and I’d have killed to be a part of it. When Beverly assigned you as my secretary it was like my favourite daydream and worst nightmare had come true— both at the same time!”

“But we fight like cats and dogs!” He’d known she’d do this, play all her evasive tactics. Being by herself was Rebel’s way of staying safe.

“Yep, and we laugh like best friends and love like mad. I love you, Reb, and I won’t let you go.”

“Oh.”

Huffing in exasperation, he wanted to shake a response out of her. “That’s it? ‘Oh’ is the best you can do?”

She was twisting her hands together, her method of keeping them still. “I don’t know how we’ll do love if we’re constantly arguing.”

“Details, Reb.” He smiled, nibbling his way along her collarbone, rejoicing in the quiver his teeth evoked. Inhaling the lush feminine smell of her. “The devil’s in the details. Don’t let him win. Focus on the big picture. I love you.”

* * * *

Breath was trapped in her chest. Exhaling felt impossible. Perhaps it had something to do with the joy and hope floating around inside her ribs. Then again maybe it was abject terror stifling her respiratory system. He loved her! Love was big. Love was forever. No one had ever offered to love her forever. In all her life, love had never come without strings. Painful strings. This was all too hard to contemplate. Her mind was blank and the best she could manage was fumbled sentences that didn’t come close to describing how she felt.

Apparently he found her lack of communication amusing because an affectionate chuckle rumbled in his chest. “I’m not offering you perfection and I can’t promise we’ll never fight. But I give you my word that I will never deliberately hurt you. I’m not your father, Reb— neither are you.”

Oh God, she was going to cry. Aidan Quinn, Mister Perfect, who valued honour above all else, knew everything about her. He knew all her nastiest, ugliest secrets, had seen her at her worst, and he still loved her. If he promised not to hurt her, he wouldn’t. The shaking started in her fingertips as she let go of her fear. She felt her face begin to crumple while the horrors of her past began washing down her cheeks. Tears left room for dreams.

“Jesus, Reb, don’t cry. I hate when you cry.”

“I’m so— sorry,” she buried her face against his neck, trying not to act like an idiot.

“Wait right here, sweetheart.” He shuffled her off his lap, kissed the point of her chin, and began rummaging through their clothing.

When he returned, he knelt at her feet. Through the blur in her eyes she couldn’t see the ring he slipped onto her finger. She felt the cold band on her ring finger, though, and her hazy vision grew worse. “Rebel Pemberton-Blythe, woman of my heart, fire in my soul, stay with me forever.”

“If you want me to stop crying, you’ll have to stop being so lovely.” A soggy smile was the best she could manage but he seemed to get the gist.

“Can we go to the bedroom now?”

Biting her lips, she tried suppressing giggles, but they came anyway. “Sure, but I get to be on top.” He exhaled heavily. Lifting her in his arms as he stood. “Already bossing me around?”

“Did you think I’d have it any other way?”

Again the deep heartfelt sigh, but his grin belied the mournful words. “No. I expected nothing less.” In the doorway to her room, he paused, as though contemplating a lifetime of her trying to be on top. “You’ll love it, I promise,” she smiled up at him, warming to the concept the closer he moved to the bed.

“You promise?”

“Yep, and you know I never make promises I can’t keep.”

He joined in the game as he settled on the bed, hands behind his head, letting her do all the touching. “How will you make me love it?”

“I’m going to go real slow. By the time I’m finished, you’ll be burning for me.” She tickled her fingers up his thigh, walked them over his hardening erection and bent forward to kiss him.

“I’m already hot.” His voice was a taut groan already.

“Yeah, but we’re aiming for fire,” she whispered and began deliberately kindling flames. If she was lucky they’d warm her for a lifetime.

The End

About the Author:

Rebecca Williams is an English/Biology teacher from Australia with a passion for culture and cuisine. Teaching through Europe and the Middle East provided the chance for Rebecca to indulge her passions. It was in the Middle East where Rebecca began collecting women’s stories, all of them deserving a voice.

Having spent seven years teaching writing techniques and analysis, Rebecca decided to put her skills, passions, collected stories and imagination to use. The results were amazing— her first seriously spicy yet distinctly Australian novels!

 

Book Two: A Ram for Sam

Susie Charles

 

Chapter One

Sitting on Jodi’s balcony, taking in the last rays of the afternoon sun and sipping caffe lattés— nothing quite so mediocre as instant coffee and milk for Jodi— Sam enjoyed the silence of the moment, let her eyelids flutter shut, and tried to relax.

“Right, Sam. You ready then?”

The business-like tone in Jodi’s voice shortened the moment into about five seconds. Sam opened one eye and glared at her friend. “For what? Christmas? The next millennium? For you to mind your own business and take care of your own miserable love life?”

“Har, har. Very funny. I don’t have a love life, Sam— I have a sex life. A very orgasmic sex life, which is more than I can say for you, Missy. You need help.”

Help, thought Sam. She needed more than help. Her love life needed some serious CPR before it expired on a gasping wheeze.

Jodi put her cup down on the glass table and turned serious. “You’ll be the big three-O in a couple of weeks.”

“Yes, I know that. Thank you so much for reminding me.”

“Aw, don’t be like that, Sam. Look, I know you expected to be married by then with a tribe of crying, grotty little pipsqueaks. . .” Sam couldn’t help grinning at the visible shudder that ran over Jodi’s body, “. . .nipping at your heels, and now it looks like it isn’t going to happen.”

“God, Jodi, you make it sound sooo attractive.” Sam smothered a smile. Marriage and motherhood were definitely not on Jodi’s schedule any time in the foreseeable future. To Jodi, kids were smelly, wet, noisy little nuisances who should be seen but not heard, and preferably not seen either. If Jodi had her way, her kids would be born eighteen years old— well past the parental torment of childhood and puberty, and ready to move out, move on and move away.

But to Sam, the dream of a loving husband and family was something she had wanted for as long as she could remember. As a living, breathing example of the emancipation of women, she was a total failure. Home, hearth, hubby and kids. Was it too much to ask for before her biological clock ticked its last tock?

“Hey, you with me, girl? You got that glazed look in your eyes again. Stop daydreaming and listen up. The man of your dreams is right in here.” She rustled the printouts from the morning’s trip to the astrologer under her nose.

“He must be a bit on the skinny side then. Maybe he slithered out while you were waving those sheets around,” Sam offered drolly.

Jodi rolled her eyes in exasperation. “No, Mr. Aries, you dolt. The man who has, and let me quote, ‘been sitting under your nose waiting for you to notice him and who is going to sweep you off your feet.’ ”

“Um . . . first problem.” Sam put her hand up to stop Jodi from butting in. “Aries is out. Absolutely! I was married to one, if you recall? Farmer Joe? Instead of sowing a few wild oats, he wanted to plow the whole damn paddock, which he did with gay abandon, if you remember, the whole thankfully short time we were married. And then there was Gary, Mr. I-love-my-sport-more-than-you. Anybody but an Aries. Please.”

“Sorry, chickie. Aries it is. So, deal with it. Next,” Jodi slipped her glasses down onto the bridge of her nose from where they had been stationed on top of her head, “you will be married, or at least seriously committed within six months.”

“Committed sounds about right,” Sam grumbled under her breath. “Look, I’m not even compatible with Aries. I’m a Taurus. He’s a ram; I’m a bull. Different species— no crossbreeding allowed.”

“Nope. And I can prove it to you. Let’s see. . .” She skimmed the printed sheets. “Taurus and Aries. When these two signs come together, the partnership is a natural union with passion, represented by Aries— Mr. Soon-to-meet-love-of-your-life, and love— that would be you, represented by Taurus. These two signs in a relationship represent balance. Blah, blah. . . Aries, ready and willing at a moment’s notice, wants to jump into the relationship, and steady Taurus wants to go more slowly.” She cast an eye at Sam over the top of her black-rimmed glasses. “You don’t have time for slowly, hon. We’re going to have to pick up the pace a bit, okay?”

Without giving Sam a chance to get a word in, she looked back at the sheet and continued. “An Aries-Taurus partnership can be a great learning experience for both signs. Aries can help Taurus be more impulsive and adventurous and Taurus can help rein in some of Aries more over-the-top impulses. Hmmm . . . over the top impulses sounds promising. . .” She winked at Sam.

“Wow. Thrilling,” said Sam, rolling her eyes. “Match made in heaven. Definitely.”

“Shush. There’s more. Taurus is sensual, tolerant and tender. Aries is attracted to the Taurus sensuality, and Taurus— stable and loyal— can be Aries’ rock. Aries can motivate Taurus to take the risks in life that lead to true happiness.” Jodi looked up at Sam. “You taking this all in? This is good stuff.” She ran her finger down the page until she found where she’d left off. “Aries brings enthusiasm and excitement to the relationship; Taurus brings security and romance. Blah, blah, blah. When Aries wants instant gratification— ooh, I like the sound of that— Taurus can show the importance of conscious deliberation. Sounds like you two will have a good mix of hard and fast and slow and steady,” she said with a laugh. Jodi’s eyes skimmed down the page.

“What’s with the ‘blah, blah’ bits, Jode? What are you leaving out? Show me those notes.” She reached for them, but Jodi just brushed her hand away. Sam could see from the sheaf in Jodi’s hand that there were more, so she was grateful that Jodi felt she’d made her point and put the papers down.

“See?” said Jodi. “It’s all there. So, next step is, you’ve gotta get out there, girl, and make yourself known. Show your stuff. Shake your booty. Otherwise how are you going to meet your dream man?”

“I resent that. I ‘get out.’ ”

“Nuh-uh. Going to the movies on your own, or hopping down to the local Chinese for take-away does not count. It’s about time you started showing that bod around town, sweetie. Next weekend. How about we go to that new nightclub . . . you know . . . the one down the road from the health club where I work. Smooth Moves, isn’t it?”

Sam swiped a mental hand across her brow. “Can’t. Sorry. I’m moving next weekend, remember?”

“Oh crap. Well, as soon as you’re settled. And we are definitely going out somewhere for your birthday. So start thinking of somewhere you want to go, preferably where the average age is slightly less than fifty.”

“Sure thing, Jode.” Not.

During her marriage to Mr. Wild Oats Aplenty, she’d heard tales about Jodi and nightclubs. Legends, in fact. Whole armies of men collapsing at her feet in silent adoration. Falling all over each other for the indescribable pleasure of dancing with her.

She glanced over at Jodi, her long legs swinging over the side of the chair, head tipped back, eyes closed in worship to the mild afternoon sun, taut, tanned midriff showing. And that long blonde hair. . . Even pulled back into a ponytail like it was most of the time, it still looked like a rope of silk. Jodi was a personal trainer, which meant that she was fat-less and trim, and even on her five-foot-nine frame, she had legs that Sam would kill for, that started at her feet and ended somewhere under her armpits.

Next to Jodi, Sam felt like the Goodyear Blimp. If she didn’t love her like a sister, she wouldn’t be seen dead with her. . .

Nope, Sam thought, short and lush best described her body. Well, not lush exactly. That just sounded too much like a lawn that somebody had over-fertilized. Short and . . . Rubenesque. Curvy. That was better. But it was her shape and she was stuck with it. The only thing little about her was her feet. On the plus side though, her eyes were her best feature— big green ones that apparently lit up when she smiled. She’d been told that a few times, although mostly by women now that she thought about it, so maybe it didn’t count. Her hair was a plain boring old brown, long and a bit too wavy for her liking. But most guys didn’t get past the chest anyway, so who cared what the head looked like. Right? She knew how Dolly Parton must feel. Still, big boobs were better than nothing. . .

Jodi opened one eye, fixing it on Sam, busting into her pondering. “You know what you need, sweetie? You seriously need to get laid. It might loosen you up a bit. A few good orgasms would take that tension right out of you. Actually, now that I think about it, we’ve got this new guy at the gym,” she said, starting to get more animated. “He’s cute and available. I could line up a date for you with him. He’s got the cutest butt. . .”

“Jodi Hughes!” Sam bit out. “As much as I just adore being the focus of your considerable efforts to get me fixed up, laid and married, not necessarily in that order, could we please change the subject? There will be no Mr. Aries, no nightclub where I can sit in the shadow of your divine brilliance and tear up soggy coasters while I watch you trip the light fantastic with a chorus line of gorgeous Gene Kelly wannabes, nor. . .” she held her hand up to stop the rash of protestations, “will there be mercy dates with Mr. Tight Tush from the gym. If Mr. Aries is right under my damn nose, for a start he must be a total short-ass, so I can’t fail to notice him, can I? My dependable and patient little Taurean body will probably trip over him while he’s running around being rash and foolish. Six months, right? Fine, then. I can wait that long.” God, she’d wait longer for the right one. . .

She sat back and smoothed her skirt, and crossed her legs. Subject closed. Permanently, if she had her way. “Now, you going to Jamie’s barbeque tomorrow?”

“Oh yeah, baby!” Jodi sat up, wicked anticipation all over her face. “I asked Jamie to see if he could get that guy who does the Scorpio spot to come along. He has the nicest . . . um . . . eyes, ya know?” She lowered her sunglasses and batted her eyelashes at her.

Jamie. She and Jodi must be the only girls in town who didn’t drool over him every time he walked past. Even though he was now a six-foot-plus hunk’a burnin’ love with a body that sent women into orbit— frequently, at that, if the stories were true— they had grown up with him and still remembered the skinny kid with grazed knees and a passion for dancing in his teenage years, that was, in those days, very un-cool for a guy. Now, however, he was the lead dancer and choreographer for Calendar Guys, the Aussie version of The Chippendales. And for all the lack of female diet in his younger years, the hard work had paid off in spades. He was the ultimate chick-magnet, and didn’t he just love every single second of it!

Blond hair, blue eyes, big and muscled, and the guy had rhythm! Just once, they’d gone to see him perform. After nearly choking on their cocktails, their eyes bugging out of their heads, the decision was unanimous afterwards that Jamie had definitely grown up. No doubt about that. But Jamie was a mate, a friend, and a good one at that. That did not mean, however, that Jodi wasn’t above trying to get him to set her up with the guys in the troupe.

But who could blame her? The Calendar Guys were legendary. Twelve guys. Fantastic bodies, with every move in the book to make a girl pant, not to mention that most of them were just really nice guys. Currently they were doing a zodiac-themed show that was proving hugely popular with the ladies. And Sam had to admit, Scorpio did have certain “charms” that were a feast for the eyes.

Recalling Jodi’s comment about his eyes, Sam snorted. “You mean you’ve made it that far up his body? I hadn’t noticed.” She ducked just in time for a cushion to go careering past her head and laughed. “Come on, Jode. The day you get as far as a guy’s eyes, I’ll get up on that stage myself and dance naked in front of a roomful of horny men. What color are they, by the way?”

“What?”

“His eyes, you goof!”

“Um . . . blue . . . no, brown . . . um. . .”

Sam started laughing at her.

“Well, hell, so what? I’ll find out eventually. I’m just savoring the rest of him first.”

“Yeah. Sure,” Sam replied and laughed.

“But you know what they say about Scorpios. . . They’re meant to be the most highly sexed sign in the zodiac, and I, for one, am eager to put that little fact to the test.”

Chapter Two

Sam was about to knock when the door opened in front of her. “Hey, Jamie. How’s it going?” Sam reached up to hug him, taken by surprise when he lifted her off her feet to kiss her soundly on the mouth. She laughed as he lowered her back to the ground. The man could sure kiss! No wonder females fell all over him.

“Great! It’s so good to see you again, short-ass. Been too long as usual. How’ve you been? Ben tells me you’re moving in next door to him this week. How come?”

Ben. She sighed. There was a time when she had had the biggest crush on Jamie’s older brother. But having grown up next door to both guys from the time she was a baby, she suspected he thought of her more as a little sister. Which was the only reason she’d been reluctant to make a fool out of herself and try to let him know. And now they were going to be living right next-door to each other again. “I’ve had my eye on that apartment for ages. When Ben told me the couple living there had bought their own place and were moving out, I snapped it up. Of course, the only downside is that I’ll have Ben for a neighbor again,” she mock-groaned.

“I heard that.” A deep, husky voice behind her breathed warm air on her neck, raising goose bumps on her skin. Arms came around her to hug her tightly.

“Hi, Ben.” Sam turned around in his arms and hugged him back. God, he smelled good. She inhaled the familiar scent of his cologne. She loved it, which was why she’d first given it to him years ago for his birthday.

“What? Don’t I get a kiss, too?”

“Silly man. Come here.” She smiled and reached up with both hands and cupped his face as she moved to kiss his cheek.

Just before they touched, he spoke, his breath teasing her face. “And I don’t want one of those ridiculous pecks on the cheeks, either. Pucker up, baby.”

She laughed and pulled back to gaze into a pair of warm hazel eyes flecked with golden streaks of amber, the amber darkening as he looked down on her. Funny, she’d never noticed that about his eyes before. But they fluttered closed as his lips descended on hers, a light, teasing touch that slowly deepened sending an uncontrollable rush of heat through her body. The touch of his tongue flicking over her bottom lip made her gasp in surprise at the unexpectedness of it. Slowly, teasing, his tongue slipped inside, leisurely stroking and tangling. A soft, errant moan escaped. Falling further into the kiss, she caught the subtle taste of beer before he pulled away, those amazing eyes holding her gaze for a moment before reality returned. Her skin was alive with goose bumps; the two biggest ones were sticking out of the silky top she was wearing like headlights.

“That’s more like it, Sammy.” His eyes sparkled down at her. “Now I know what I’ve been missing all these years. You’ve been holding out on me, sweet thing.”

She had the strangest feeling, like her tummy just bottomed out and all the moisture in her body was heading south to the V between her legs.

But this was Ben. Childhood buddy. Soon-to-be neighbor. Not the hottest kisser she’d had in . . . in . . .ever! Lost for words, she didn’t know what to say.

“At least now I’ve found a way to shut you up when you’re sassing me,” he said, his forehead resting against hers.

“Uh huh. Sure. Ben, what was that?” She had to resist the urge to touch her still tingling lips.

“Sweetheart, that was a kiss. You know, lips on lips. Why?” He winked at her, the look full of mischief. “You want another demo?”

She was saved from answering when Jamie tapped her on the shoulder to introduce not only “Scorpio,” but also “Sagittarius.” Jodi would have a field day.

* * * *

“Sam, I’d like you to meet Greg and Simon. Guys, this luscious lovely is Sam. Oh, and you already know my brother, Ben.”

Ben gritted his teeth and mumbled out a hello while he watched the two guys from his brother’s dance group— Hell, let’s not beat around the bush, they were male strippers— bend down and kiss Sam on the cheek while they said hello.

“Could you show the guys where everything is inside, Sam honey? Beer’s in the fridge, guys. I’ve just got to put the steaks on the barbie.”

Ben had to bite his tongue when she flashed a beaming smile and those deep green eyes at both of them, and with a “Sure!” hooked an arm in each of theirs and led them away. He watched the gentle sway of her full hips as she walked, feeling the all-too-familiar hardening of his erection every time she wiggled that tush anywhere near his line of sight. Just the thought of holding her against him so he could rub up against the softness, sliding his cock up and down the cleft of those ripe buttocks. . .

Reluctantly, he tore his eyes away and turned to see his brother watching him with a curious stare. “Jamie. . .” he started, but was stopped when Jodi sidled up to his brother with a wicked glint in her eye. “I need to ask a favor.” Jodi linked her arm in Jamie’s and pulled him closer. “When do you leave for Brisbane? You still going to be here the weekend after next?”

“Yes. Three more weeks, actually. Why?”

“Can you get Sam and me tickets to the Saturday night show?”

“Sure. No problem. Why?”

She lowered her voice. “Have you forgotten? It’s Sam’s birthday on the Sunday, doofus. I want to get her out and have some fun for a change. She’s freaked enough about the whole ‘thirty’ thing and she won’t go to a nightclub with me.”

He nodded. “For Sam— anything, you know that. I’ll even get you a table right near the stage.”

“Good boy,” she said and patted his cheek. “Oh, and are you still doing the Aries number?”

“Yup. Why?”

“Could you swap with one of the other guys, Jamie, just for that night? I took Sam to an astrologer and she’s supposed to meet an Aries guy who will sweep her off her feet. And as gorgeous as you are, sweetcakes, you aren’t quite what we were looking for.”

“I think I’m crushed.” He looked at Ben with a wink. “And just what were you looking for, little miss matchmaker? Anyone in mind?”

“Nope. I’ll leave it up to your discretion. Just not attached. Oh, and not a ‘player,’ okay?”

“Got it.” He shot a glance at his brother over Jodi’s head and raised his eyebrows when he met the unmistakable glower on Ben’s face.

Ben waited until Jodi walked off before turning to his brother. “I want it. I want the Aries dance,” he said in a low, determined voice.

“This doesn’t have something to do with that little kissing scene from before, does it, bro?” Jamie waited, and then grinned mischievously at the scowl on his brother’s face. “Sam? You’ve got the hots for our little short-ass?” He chuckled. “Man! I guess that explains you looking like you wanted to eat her up a minute ago.”

“What’s so strange about that? She’s a beautiful woman.”

“I know, I know, but who would’a thought? Sam? Since when?”

Ben could see the mirth his brother was trying to swallow and groaned. “Since about fourteen years ago— and don’t laugh. Every time I’ve been about to make a move on her, she hooks up with some jerk. But the time is right. Maybe now she’s desperate enough to look at me as something other than the geeky guy she grew up with.” He could sense Jamie’s reluctance. “Come on, little brother. Just teach me the moves. Besides, I’m an Aries, for God’s sake. The real deal. With what Jodi said, it all fits.”

“I don’t know, Ben.” Jamie looked at him intently. “This is not exactly the tap dancing Mom made us learn when we were kids. I mean, this is some serious flesh you’ll be showing. And you’ve gotta be able to make those ladies wild with your moves. A jazzy routine to ‘Putting on the Ritz’ just ain’t gonna cut it.”

Ben grinned. “I know that. Look, you remember Shelley?”

Jamie smirked. “Shelley Mantuso? Hell, how could I forget? Not exactly a member of the brains trust, but man, could she salsa up a storm! She could shake that thing better than anybody I’ve seen.”

“Yeah, I know. We learned those dances together. Street Latin classes. I’ve got moves you ain’t seen yet, mate. Give me a shot.”

“But why? Why don’t you just tell her how you feel, for chrissakes?” Jamie looked at Ben in confusion.

“We’re talking about a paradigm shift here, little brother.”

“A para-what? Oh, never mind. You’re the geek boy.”

“My point exactly. It’s time Sam saw that there’s a whole lot more to me than the boy next door who plays with computers for a living.”

“If you think naked and sweaty will do it for ya, then hey, sure. This I’ve gotta see.” Jamie slapped him on the back and laughed as they headed over to the barbeque. “Come by the club tomorrow after work and I’ll run you through the routine. The auditorium will be empty on a Monday so we’ll have the place to ourselves.” He was still shaking his head and chuckling when Ben walked off to go grab them a couple more beers.

* * * *

“No, no, no. You’re too stiff, if you’ll excuse the pun,” Jamie said and laughed. They had been practicing the routine for the last two hours, and although Ben was a quick learner, he really needed to loosen up.

“Look, like this. Run your hands down over your pecs. Right?” He watched his own reflection in the mirror, making sure Ben was taking it all in. “Slowly. Pretend you’re running your hands down over her tits. It’s gotta be slow and sensual. You wouldn’t rush it if you were cupping those beauties for real, would you?”

“Jamie! Give me a break! If I start thinking about running my hands over Sam my cock’ll be harder than a railroad pike, and there isn’t enough material in that sorry excuse for a g-string to hold half of it.”

“Bragger! But whatever it takes, bro. Now you try.”

Jamie watched Ben and shook his head in admiration. His brother must have it real bad if he was prepared to put himself through this just to get Sammy to notice him.

“Now, hands slowly round to your backside and start thrusting that pelvis.”

“Like this?” asked Ben.

“No. Think fucking standing up. Can you do that? Pretend you’re holding her against the wall . . . her legs are wrapped around yours, and work those hips . . . that’s it. Yes! Now, flex that butt . . . show us a bit of skin . . . tease ‘em. That’s more like it.” Jamie stood back and watched his brother, eyes shut, grinding and dancing in time to the beat. He shook his head and grinned, a small chuckle escaping.

Ben stopped and opened his eyes. “What?”

“I don’t know what you were thinking about, mate, but hold that thought. I think you got that bit well and truly under control. Now, let’s try putting it all together and ripping the gear off completely.”

Jamie turned on the music, stood to the side and watched, a hint of surprise and admiration creeping across his face as Ben worked the floor. He had to admit, his big brother was good. In fact, with just a little bit more practice, he’d be good enough for a career change.

The music finally wound down and they both turned, Ben panting, to the sound of clapping coming off stage.

“Well, if that doesn’t get little Sammy’s pulse racing, nothing will. I don’t know about the rest of you, but I feel a bit hot myself after watching that,” said Greg with a smirk, fanning himself as he rolled his eyes. He walked further into the room followed by the others. “Don’t worry, mate, you’ll be fine,” he said and slapped Ben on the back. “You’re only a virgin once. . . It’s like anything. The more you practice, the better you get.”

“The ladies are gonna lap you right up,” commented ‘Pisces.’ “Literally, if they get half a chance.” The guys around him laughed, and after a brief pause, Ben let go and laughed too. Hell, he didn’t care what the rest of the “ladies” thought or did. There was only one lady who counted to him.

Chapter Three

Sam brushed a sweaty lock of hair off her face and stood back, looking around at the mess still remaining to be either unpacked or put away. This was the downside of moving. Unpacking. Yuck! A thump on the lounge room floor alerted her that another load had arrived from the garage downstairs where she and Ben had offloaded all her boxes from her old apartment.

“Is that it?” she called out from the bedroom, hanging the last of her clothes in the wardrobe. “Only two more downstairs to bring up. Back in a sec.”

“Ben?” She wandered out to catch him before he went back downstairs. And pulled up abruptly, backing into the wall before she bumped into him. It was the sight of Ben, shirt now removed and a trail of perspiration tracing a wet path down his chest that made her heart start thumping in a rather unexpected way. God! What is wrong with me? This is Ben. My friend. My geeky friend. Who just happens to have the most amazing abs I’ve ever seen. . .

She licked her suddenly dry lips and looked up to see a smirk on his face.

“You need me for something?”

Oh, you better believe it!

Stop that, Sam.

Get a grip, for God’s sake!

“I need . . . you . . . to . . . um. . . I need you to. . .” Fuck me silly! “. . .t-to help me put these suitcases in the top of the cupboard. Please?”

He softly cuffed her chin. “Whatever you need, babe. Just ask.”

Ben was close.

Very close.

And from the way his eyes were doing that amber glow thing she’d noticed when he kissed her at Jamie’s place, Sam had the feeling that Ben was talking about something other than suitcases. She had to be wrong. Surely. Ben?

Recalling the contribution that kiss had made to a temporary meltdown of her entire spinal column, she was tempted to reach up and grab another quick taste, but the last thing she wanted was to make a complete fool of herself in case she was wrong. She let out a quiet breath and tried to get her traitorous pulse under control before following him into the bedroom.

However, standing there and watching Ben reaching easily, hefting the suitcases onto the top shelf of the wardrobe, Sam found herself fighting not to reach out and touch him. The mixture of cologne and hot, sweaty man swirled in the air around her. She wiped her mouth absently in case she was drooling. Ben was seriously buff. Obviously, he hadn’t been spending all his time in front of a computer.

Leaning back against the wall, she appreciatively eyed the ripple of muscles across his back, licking her lips at the vista of naked male flesh.

“You still swim, Ben?” Ben had been a swimmer all through high school. She remembered teasing him about the girls lusting after his scrawny, but tight teenage body. Silly her. She should have been lusting herself instead of using her smart mouth. . .

“I try and do laps most days after work. Gets rid of stress. Why?”

“’Cause you’re looking good, that’s why. Weights too?”

“Some. Just enough to keep me fit.” He turned to her, his eyes darkening and sending a flutter to her stomach and all points south. “Why? You like what you see, Sam?”

Um . . . yeah! But I’m not telling you that. You think I’m nuts? “Give me a break.” She rolled her eyes at him. “Don’t go getting a big head, you big lug. It’s just been a while since I’ve seen so much bare male flesh in my. . .” She’d been about to say bedroom, but although Ben might be one of her best buds, she drew the line at informing him about the depressing lack of sex in her life. Seeing a hot and sweaty Ben in her bedroom, however, was spawning a little fantasy in her head. . .

“In your what, sweetheart?”

“Hmmm?”

He moved closer to her, his arms going up on either side of her, trapping her against the wall. Eye level with his chest, the sight of his hardened nipples just within reach of her tongue. . . Talk about temptation! Jodi was right. She really needed to get laid. Soon. Ben was starting to look like a three course meal. And damn, but she was hungry! It must be the chest covered with crisp curls that trailed down. . . Arghh!

“Oh, never mind.” She pushed him out of the way, feeling the jolt go through her at the contact with his naked flesh. “And get that smug look of your face, cheeky bugger!”

A purely male chuckle followed her out of the bedroom. She escaped to the kitchen to grab a couple of beers for them. Popping the tops on the ice-cold bottles, the condensation streaming down the sides, she stopped him as he came back in the front door with the last two boxes stacked one on top of the other.

“Just put them down in the kitchen, Ben, and come and have a beer. I can do the rest later. We deserve a break.”

She handed him the beer and he followed her out to the small, private balcony, already half-filled with planter boxes of flowers. There was just enough room for both of them on her favorite rattan lounge.

Suddenly uncomfortable, very aware of his nearness and the temptation he represented in her sex-starved state, she sat stiffly on her end of the lounge. She took a long swig and nearly choked at the nudge in her side. “Do you mind?” she said and laughed, swinging around to face him, wiping beer off her chin that had missed her mouth.

“Come here, Sam. Sit back and relax. You’re sitting there like you think I’m going to bite.” The fact that he was laying back, long legs stretched out in front of him, gave the impression of a big cat— the tiger sort, not the kitty variety.

Pulling her back against his chest, his free arm rested on her shoulder. She gave up and relaxed into him. What the hell! She was tired and it was so comfortable. A sigh escaped as she nestled into him. “Better?” His fingers stroked the hair back off her forehead, his touch light.

She closed her eyes and enjoyed the sensation. “Hmmm. Very nice.”

“So, who would have thought when we were kids, we’d be sitting here like this, Sam, all these years later. Older. Wiser. . .”

“Older, yes. Wiser? I’m not so sure. We’re both still single at an age when most of our peers have settled down and are making headway on the two-point-five children. What does that say about us?”

“I don’t know about you, sweetheart, but I’m just waiting for the right woman to know that I’m alive.”

“I know what you mean,” she sighed. “I’m about ready to give up, though. I just don’t know what’s wrong with me. Why can’t I find a guy to love me, Ben?” Anybody else and she’d have been embarrassed, but this was Ben, after all. He knew her history with men as well as Jodi and Jamie.

“The guy for you could be right under your nose, Sam. Just don’t give up yet, okay?”

Under her nose? She wanted to ponder that, and the fact that his voice had deepened, and come out sort of husky. However, she was distracted by the smattering of kisses she was receiving on top of her head, before he moved his mouth down to her ear and nibbled gently at the curve. She really should stop him. The reason why escaped her as a small moan crept out before she could stop it. It would be way too easy to get used to this. . .

* * * *

As much as he relished it, the sound of that little moan sent all the blood racing straight to his cock, which strained against the wall of denim encasing it. If she wasn’t sitting so close to him it would be busting out, sitting up and waving, begging to be noticed. He swallowed around the lump in his throat. “So, how long has it been, Sammy?”

He inhaled the mix of peach and vanilla from her hair while he waited for her to answer. The only thing was, he couldn’t stop at that. Just a taste. From her ear, down the velvety skin of her neck, licking, nibbling.

“Too damn long,” she said, her voice a breathless whisper.

It was a whisper full of yearning that wrenched at his heart. Putting down his beer, he eased her fully onto his lap. He knew he probably shouldn’t, but he didn’t care. That scorching kiss at Jamie’s had left him hungry for more. In the days since, he hadn’t been able to get the taste and feel of her out of his head. Reaching for her chin, he turned her face up to his.

“Kiss me.” He was determined to keep it light, but when she reached up and kissed him softly, almost innocently, his cock throbbed relentlessly in time with his pounding heart. God, he couldn’t wait any longer.

Running a finger along her jaw line, he looked a moment at her sweet face before he lowered his head to meet her lips. “Gentle and slow” didn’t stand a chance. The minute her tongue flicked out to meet his, he was a goner. And when she turned, nestling into him, those full breasts and hardened nipples rubbing up against him, he lost it.

Holding her face still for his plundering tongue, he kissed her hard, deep, tasting every bit of her mouth, feeling her body arch against him, into him, her arm snaking around his neck to caress the curls at his nape. This was what he wanted. Sam in his arms, needing him as much as he needed her. With a satisfied groan, he wrapped her up, not pulling away until they were both gasping for breath.

He rested his forehead on hers while he waited for his breathing to return to normal. “I’ve waited fourteen years for you to kiss me like that again, Sam. It damn near killed me.”

She looked a bit shell-shocked, as if she couldn’t believe what had just happened. “Fourteen years? What do you mean, Ben?”

He had to leave. If he didn’t he’d have her over his shoulder in about two seconds, making a beeline for the bed where he would strip her naked and start pounding into her until she screamed and came all around his cock. And right now, that wasn’t an option. He stood up quickly, propping her back up on her end of the lounge.

“Think about it, sweetheart. Remember the first time. I damn near came in my pants that time, too. I’ll be stuffed if I can figure out why those morons you were going out with let you go.”

* * * *

Dazed, Sam sat there for a long time after she heard the door close, trying to figure out how she ended up on Ben’s lap . . . kissing him like her life depended on it. And what did Ben mean about fourteen years ago? She would have been . . . almost sixteen.

It hit her then. Jamie’s seventeenth birthday party. Spin the bottle, of all things. Her and Ben. How on earth could she have forgotten? Obviously, Ben hadn’t. That kiss had been so hot and so long that by the time they came out of it, the party had moved on. For twelve months, she had blushed every time she saw Ben after that. Some things hadn’t changed. He could still kiss her till she lost her mind.

So why the hell was he still single?

Chapter Four

It was a few days before she saw Ben again. But he’d sure been on her mind. Why had it nearly killed him waiting to kiss her again? Did that mean he’d been wanting her all that time?

No, it couldn’t. He’d had heaps of girlfriends. Some that had seemed pretty serious. She found herself listening for him in his apartment— knew when he got up in the morning, knew when he got home from work after his swim.

More than anything, she wanted to see him again. Which confused her. She’d known Ben for so long and she’d never had this uncontrollable craving to see him after only a few days apart. Hell, they’d gone months without seeing each other at times. Two kisses from Ben and the old crush was coming back again, except this time there was definitely nothing “teenage” about the feelings.

Dinner over, she cleaned up the kitchen and stacked the dishwasher, then grabbing a glass of wine, went and stood out on her balcony.

Very faintly, she could hear music coming from Ben’s apartment. It sounded like the driving rhythms of one of the eighties bands. . . She strained to hear, but he must have had his door closed and all she really got was the thump, thump and the odd guitar. Shaking her head, she went back inside. With a mischievous grin, she went out her front door and over to Ben’s. Ringing the doorbell, she waited a minute until he opened the door.

Sweaty, dressed in nothing but a pair of loose sweatpants, he grinned when he saw who it was. He leaned casually on the doorframe, filling the space, the smell of his body surrounding her, making her . . . need. He must have been working out, because a trickle of sweat ran down his abs, and she watched it every inch as it disappeared, soaked up by the waistband of his sweats riding low on his hips. Sam’s eyes were drawn to the distinctive bulge straining at the thin fabric. Oh my! Lips dry, she ran her tongue over them, trying not to pant. Suddenly the idea of coming over didn’t seem quite so smart. In her current state, she was liable to jump him. With difficulty, she swallowed over the egg-sized lump in her throat.

“Hey, beautiful. What’s up?”

Gravelly. There was no other word to describe his voice. Like the rumble of thunder in the distance. She tried to lift her gaze, but the all-too-tempting sight of Ben’s erection held her transfixed. The craving to reach out and run her fingers up the length. . . And, oh the length! Another quick gander to check registered a good eight or so inches . . . and thick. Oh yes. Definitely thick. A trickle of moisture slid down her upper thigh.

She was staring at his crotch. Like a sex-starved tart.

The realization hit her. Hard.

Snapping her eyes up, a full-body blush heating her from the inside out, she looked into a pair of eyes that looked dangerous. Predatory. Hungry.

Oh, God. She fought the urge to cross her legs, except they were barely cooperating as it was. “Sam? Sweetheart?”

Sweetheart. He called me sweetheart.

He’s calls you that all the time, idiot. But why did it sound different when he said it this time? Husky. Very, very husky. . . “Huh?”

“You okay?”

Sure. Don’t mind me. I’ll just get on my knees and pull down those pants and lick and suck and. . . “Yes, fine” she croaked. “Um . . . dinner. Yes. Dinner. Tomorrow night? I want to . . . to thank you for helping me move in.” Rigorously fighting to get herself under control, she stepped further away.

“Sure. What time?”

“Come over whenever you get home. You can watch me cock . . . I mean cook.” Come naked. It’ll save me stripping you later.

“I’ll look forward to it.”

Oh, baby! Not half as much as I’m going to. . . She kept walking while her legs were still capable of carrying her. It wasn’t right. No guy should look that yummy standing there in a pair of daggy old sweats. “Okay, see ya then,” she called out.

Phew! Safety dead ahead, she thought as she neared her door. Now that she wasn’t looking at him, and with the intake of fresh oxygen to her brain, she was feeling a bit more compos mentis.

Unable to shake the feeling of being watched, she turned as she reached her door and caught Ben’s eyes down around the area of her ass. Like a bungee rope snapping taut, that blatantly appreciative stare yanked hard on what she’d thought was the one-sided free-fall of lust she was feeling. A hint of female power trickled through her, and feeling devilish, she winked at him before turning back to open her door. The warm rumble of male laughter reached her. A smile turned up the corners of her mouth.

Two can play that game, sweetheart. . .

* * * *

Ben came out of the shower and grabbed a towel, dripping water on his way to the kitchen to grab the phone.

“G’day. Ben here.”

“Hey, bro. How’s the practice going? You gonna be ready on time?”

“I’m ready now. Nailed it. Pretty damn good if I say so myself.”

“Such confidence! You’d better let me be the judge of that,” laughed Jamie. “I need to see you do the full thing before the big night. We’ve got a full house booked. Look, you sure you’re gonna be okay in front of all those ladies? They can get pretty wild, you know. Not nearly as well behaved as guys. They’re liable to grab anything that moves.”

Ben ran his fingers through his damp, towel-dried hair, moving the dripping strands off his face. “Well, the lady I’ll be focusing on can grab whatever she wants,” he laughed. “That’s the whole point of the exercise.”

“Okay, well I’m on my way home now. I’ll drop in and you can go through the number for me. We’ll see if it’s hot enough to make Sam sit up and beg for more, huh?” His laugh filtered down the phone line. “How’s things with little short ass, anyway? You see much of her now she’s so handy next door?”

“She’s invited me over for dinner tomorrow night. And yes, things are moving along nicely. She’s still not sure about me, but if this little performance doesn’t convince her that I’m all hers for the taking, nothing will.”

* * * *

A silvery stream of moonlight filtered through the gauzy curtains, giving her bedroom a surreal phosphorescence, casting shadows around the room. The unmistakable feel of a warm body snuggled against her from behind, a large palm caressing her hardened nipple. Shivers of pleasure shot through her, straight to her pussy, the lips damp with her juices.

Arching back against the heat of a rampant erection. . .

“You want me, baby?” Husky, hungry words.

Sam smiled. Oh, yeah.

His hand trailed down over her abdomen, fingers rustling through the curls at the apex of her thighs.

The heat of his touch, the gentle stroke of her clit. Sam inhaled sharply at the circular caress, parting her legs at the nudge of his hand.

“That’s it. Show me how wet you are, sweetheart. Let me feel it. . .”

Ben’s large palm lifted her leg and laid it over his thigh, opening her up further. Thumb circling the hard nub, first one finger, then two slipped inside, slowly teasing through the silken wetness.

She groaned. “More, Ben. I need more. . .”

“I know, baby, and I’m going to give it to you. There’s no rush. We have all the time in the world.”

With unerring accuracy, his fingers thrust firmly into her pussy, reaching for, touching the tight knot of nerves deep inside. The fingers caressing the hardness of her nipple twisted and pinched, and she moaned at the mind-blowing mix of pain and pleasure, Sam pushed down on his fingers, craving the orgasm that teased and tormented her. She was so close. Just a little more. . . Don’t stop. Please, Ben, don’t stop. . .

The silken slide of heat along the crevice of her ass, panting breath at her ear as he licked and nibbled and tormented her with carnal descriptions of where his cock would be, thrust her the final step over the edge and she screamed out as she came, locked firmly in an embrace of arms and legs as waves of intense pleasure rocketed through her, the wetness between her thighs trickling down to dampen the sheet beneath her. . .

The sound of knocking penetrated the satisfied fog while tremors continued to shudder through her overcharged body. Who? What? She reached blindly behind her for Ben, her hand coming up empty. Sam sat up in bed and looked around. Alone. The remnants of the erotic dream fell away from her befuddled mind.

She was a goner. Erotic dreams about Ben. In her bed. God, what next?

Grabbing her robe from the end of the bed, she stumbled away from the bed— her legs obviously weren’t quite into the post-coital recovery stage— and wobbled to the door. “Co-ming,” she called, her voice still croaky with sleep. She pulled the door open only to be met by a curious Ben.

“Really, sweetheart? Is that what all the screaming was about?”

“What? Oh.” A flush rushed up her neck. The dream had been so real. If only he knew! She ran a hand through her hair. Hell, she must look a mess.

He tucked a vagrant curl behind her ear. “You know, you look beautiful first thing in the morning.”

“Sure. I can just imagine.” She held the door open to let him in, grasping the lapels of her robe together. It didn’t help her equilibrium that she was very naked underneath. “You’re up early. Or do you normally go door knocking at. . .” she screwed up her eyes to bring the kitchen clock into focus, “Ben! Is that the time? 6:30?”

“Nope. Just for you, shortie.” He ruffled her hair, grinning at her like a fool.

“What? I look like something the cat dragged in, don’t I?”

“No, your face is a little flushed is all, and you look like . . . like a woman who’s. . .” His head swung around towards her bedroom and she could have sworn his face darkened. “I didn’t interrupt anything, did I, Sam? Come at a bad time?”

“Unless you’re referring to the ungodly hour, no, silly. I was asleep.” God, if only you knew. One of us came at least, and I’m damn sure it was me. Her nipples hardened under the robe and she prayed desperately he wouldn’t notice.

At her reassurance, his mood lightened and he rubbed his hands up her arms.

“I’m off to work. Early day today. I was just wondering if there’s anything you need me to bring. Wine? Beer?”

Condoms? How about a multi-pack and make them extra-extra large? She fought to keep her face straight and stifle the naughty chuckle busting to break free. “No. It’s all under control, Ben. You toddle off to work and pop in when you get home. Okay?”

“Sure. I’ll see you tonight then.”

“Uh huh. Tonight.”

“You going back to bed now?”

“Yep. Sure am.”

“Damn!” he muttered under his breath.

“Sorry?”

“Nothing. See you later.”

* * * *

Somehow, Sam got through the day without driving into a pole, blowing up the photocopier or short-circuiting the coffee machine at work. But the simple fact was, orgasms like the one she’d had that morning were not exactly a feature of her sex life— real or imagined. So, needless-to-say, it tended to dominate her thoughts.

When she found herself staring off into space for the fifth time that day, only to find out that the office was almost empty when she returned to reality, she was glad it was time to pack it in and head home. At this rate, she’d be lucky if she didn’t burn down her kitchen trying to cook dinner.

* * * *

When the doorbell rang she took a deep breath first, nervously smoothing down the creaseless skirt she’d carefully chosen. Then she opened the door, prepared to be normal. For once.

The fact that her good intentions lasted all of five seconds was not lost on her. Ben stood there, in black. Black jeans, black, snug-fitting T-shirt.

All black.

Dark. Bad looking. With a look hot enough to contribute to global warming.

Not fair, Ben!

To hell with being normal. And for that matter, to hell with being a patient and reliable Taurus. Jodi was right. No time for slow. If he was going to fight dirty, then, dammit, so could she.

Standing aside to let him in, she watched his butt in those tight jeans all the way down the hall. “Grab yourself a wine or a beer out of the fridge, Ben honey. I’ve just got to get changed out of my work clothes.”

Work clothes, huh!

Standing in front of her wardrobe, she flicked through the hangers until she found just what she was looking for. And smiled. Uh huh. . .

* * * *

Ben, honey? Where the hell had that come from? Not that he was complaining. Surprised, he turned and watched Sam walk into her bedroom, wiggling that cute handful of ass at him.

He wasn’t going to make it. He shook his head and grabbed a beer, flipping the top off with practiced ease, taking a long slug to try to settle down before she came back again.

He’d barely gotten his hard-on from the night before under control. It had taken all day and the determined focus on some very boring computer code to disengage the part of his brain that was lusting after Sam. The little scene outside his door the previous night had nearly finished him off. He wondered if she realized how close she’d been to getting fucked silly up against the wall between their apartments in full view of all their neighbors.

The way she seemed stuck on his cock sticking out of his pants like a flag of surrender. . . One more second of that torture and he would have been history.

And then that morning, looking all warm and disheveled. If he didn’t know better, he’d have thought she’d just had a rocking orgasm. It had certainly sounded like it. . .

No. Tonight was about control. Gently maneuvering her to where he needed her before the big night down at the club.

Right.

Control.

“Ben? Could you fix my zip? It seems to be caught on something.”

When he saw her coming towards him, his hard-on sprang back up, filling his jeans. That was the thing about denim— limited give. Or maybe it was time to move to a bigger size just to accommodate his constant erection. Fuck!

“Um, Sam sweetheart, where’s the rest of it?” The scrap of silky white, semi-transparent nothing passing for the dress she was wearing was barely there. He’d seen more material on a handkerchief, for God’s sake! If it was wet. . . No, no, do NOT go there!

“What? Oh, it’s so hot. I thought I’d be much cooler in this while I’m cooking, you know?”

“Sure.” And I’m dead. Gone. History.

To make it easier for him, she held that gorgeous brown hair out of the way. What he wouldn’t give to run his fingers through the sleek mass.

Distracted now by the expanse of exposed flesh, he struggled to free the zipper. However, the feel of warm, silky skin under his knuckles defeated him, making him feel clumsy as hell. Finally, it uncaught and he ran the zipper up. Trailing his eyes over her back, a smattering of sun-kissed freckles he hadn’t noticed before caught his eye.

Before he knew it, he was kissing every single freckle. He would have gone further, except she turned in his arms and smiled up at him.

“You that hungry, Ben honey?”

His hands tightened around her waist, and the growl that started in his belly and was working its way up had nothing to do with a hunger for food. But before he could tell her exactly what he felt like eating, the phone rang. Dammit!

While she chatted, the sound of her laughter making his cock tingle from top to bottom, he pulled himself together, grabbed his beer and wandered into the lounge room to check out her CDs. At least that might give him something else to think about.

Reorganizing the steel shaft in his pants took some doing before he could get down on the floor to check them out. His cock was so hard and stiff it was liable to snap dead in two if he tried to make it bend.

He skimmed over the romantic ones. As much as the idea would have merit, sometime in the future, tonight that way lay certain danger. Things were moving along very nicely with Sam and for once, he was determined to stick to his plan. And that did not include jumping on her tonight. No fucking way.

Once he convinced his penis of that fact, they might be able to actually have a meal like a civilized couple. Talk, laughter— normal behavior. . .

Yeah. Right.

* * * *

After what would probably go down as the longest meal in his life, Ben sighed with relief when he finally closed his door that night. Leaning back against it, he hung his head and waited.

For his heart rate to return to normal. For his cock to go down. And then he laughed. The little vixen had turned the tables on him.

She had managed to flash him with more naked flesh during dinner than a pole dancer. How the hell he’d managed to swallow was a mystery. Although what the hell they’d eaten, he couldn’t say if his life depended on it.

One thing he did remember.

That thank you kiss as he was leaving. It was enough to curl his toes and then some.

Jesus Christ! This plan of his had better work, or he was condemned to a life of blue balls every time he thought about her.

And it had better work, because no other man was getting a taste of what he just had. Over his dead freakin’ body! He found it hard to believe that any normal man could have a woman kiss him like that and walk away from it. He’d have to be a fucking corpse! She had the lips of an angel, so soft and sweet tasting, but the tongue of a she-devil.

And the sooner she had that hot mouth wrapped around his cock, the better they’d both be. Just the thought of holding her head, those wet lips opening while he nudged the crown of it inside, sliding in and out of that heat, her tongue swirling around the head as he fucked her mouth slowly, deeply. . .

With unsteady fingers, he flicked the studs open on his jeans, palming the hot length of his erection as it sprang free from its confines. Pre-cum was oozing from the head. Sliding his hand up and down, he closed his eyes and groaned. This wouldn’t take long at all. . .

Chapter Five

“Come on. You ready yet, Sam?”

Sam came out of the bedroom, hopping as she tried to get her shoe on and the strap around her ankle. “What’s the rush?”

“We want to get good seats close to the stage.”

“I thought Jamie was organizing things.”

“True. But the place fills quickly. He won’t be able to hold them indefinitely. Let’s go already.”

After spending the whole week fantasizing about Ben, undressing him and licking him from head to toe with some substantial— and lengthy— detours along the way, the last thing Sam wanted to do was watch sexy man after sexy man strip down to bare flesh and g-string. If she ran into Ben when she got home, well, the poor guy would be toast! Her libido was about to do a tap dance on the table if she didn’t get some action soon. She couldn’t remember a time in her life— pathetic excuse for a marriage included— when she had been this horny. It was driving her nuts. The fact that it was Ben— childhood buddy and friend— had ceased to matter to her. Her body certainly wanted him. Her heart wanted him. She was hooked.

The club was completely booked out when they arrived. The maitre d’ showed them to their reserved table— right at the edge of the stage.

“Geez, Jodi! Who did Jamie have to kill to get this table for us?”

“It’s your birthday present. This is his contribution.”

“Is he dancing tonight?”

“As far as I know, only with the opening number. They’re trying out a new guy in his spot tonight.” Jodi laughed then, causing Sam to look at her curiously.

“What’s so funny about a new guy?”

“Nothing. From what Jamie tells me he’s pretty darn hot, though,” Jodi said, batting her eyelashes and licking her lips.

Sam’s forehead furrowed into a frown. This might not be Denmark, but something definitely smelled rotten. That thought was interrupted when their drinks arrived and the houselights started to dim.

Lusty catcalls and excited screaming from the female audience did little to drown out the driving rhythms of INXS’ New Sensation thundering through the auditorium. One by one, the guys ran out onto the stage. It was a smorgasbord of prime male bodies. The only other time she’d seen Jamie perform had been in a small club when the guys were just starting out. But this was unbelievable!

Putting the chanting and yelling women behind her, she ran her eyes over the stage, searching through the energetic dancers for Jamie. There he was, strutting through the row of guys to stand front and center, like the star he was, rolling and rocking his pelvis to the screams of the audience. He came closer then, smiling wide. Catching her eye, he winked at her. Unable to help herself, she laughed. Cheeky devil.

But she had to admit, dressed in nothing but silky black pants and a chain vest that caught the light every time he moved, he looked damn good! What a body! Beside her, Jodi was screaming as loud as any of the other women. But it was so easy to get caught up in the excitement. She recognized “Scorpio” and “Sagittarius” from Jamie’s barbeque and blushed when they strutted and shimmied closer, Greg doing something rather magical with his groin that left nothing to the imagination. Damn, he was hot! When he whipped the silky pants off right in front of her, she cast her eyes appreciatively over him— she could certainly see the reason for Jodi’s attraction to him. It was kinda hard to miss. And it had nothing to do with his eyes.

Jodi punched her lightly on the arm, shook her head at her, mouthed “uh uh” and laughed. Sam was unable to wipe the silly grin off her face. Obviously, the whole thing had been well planned in advance. As birthday presents went, she couldn’t think of a better one. Maybe there were one or two advantages to turning thirty.

The music faded as they ran off backstage. Wow! What an opening. Sam sat back, not even realizing she’d been sitting on the edge of her seat. Grabbing her drink, she took a long sip.

* * * *

Watching from backstage, Ben’s eyes stayed glued to Sam. His little Shortie. Or she would be by the time the night was over. He certainly couldn’t imagine doing what he was about to do for any other woman. And after tonight, his short but sweet stripping career would be over.

He looked closer when he saw Greg and Simon heading over towards her. A primal growl rumbled out of his chest when Greg stopped in front of her.

Geez, come on, mate! Don’t make it any harder for me than it’s going to be, for chrissakes! He could have flattened him when he whipped off his pants in front of her leaving nothing but a white g-string. Bloody poser!

As the time drew nearer, he could feel the sweat run down inside his leathers.

* * * *

Jamie came back out on stage, dressed this time in a pair of black skin-tight breeches, over knee boots and what looked like a white pirate shirt. The sheer, billowing fabric, if anything, highlighted the muscles underneath. With the flowing blond hair and blue eyes, he looked like any woman’s wet dream— dashing, slightly dangerous, a goddammed hunk.

He grabbed a microphone from one of the stagehands, but of course, his entrance only served to get the audience going again and he had to try and quiet them before he could speak.

“You having a good time, ladies?”

The noise level jumped to dangerous proportions in response. Without a doubt, the answer was yes.

He paced the stage in time to the background beat, talking to the audience as he headed in their direction. “Well, we have a special treat tonight for a very special lady. One of my best friends, Sam, who I grew up with, is celebrating her thirtieth birthday tomorrow.” He came over to her, walking down the small set of stairs until he was standing right in front of her. He grabbed her hand in his. “This next one is all for you, shortie. Your Aries, babe. And he’s been right under your nose the whole time.” And then he winked, laughing at the cheers from the audience. Taking the mike away from his mouth, he leaned over and kissed her, whispering “Happy Birthday” in her ear before he ran back on stage. “So ladies? No touching this one. He’s definitely taken.”

Right under my nose? Taken? Sam spared a quick glance at Jodi who was trying her hardest to look innocent. And failing miserably.

A trembling synthesizer hung on the opening bars, a throbbing staccato of drums mixed with a heavy bass guitar riff, clashing cymbals, louder and louder, and Aries, the God of War, dressed in full black leathers, bounded out onto the stage to the driving rhythm of Robert Palmer’s Simply Irresistible.

Sam was speechless. At some point her mouth must have dropped open, because she felt Jodi’s hand under her chin, closing it. The leather-clad pelvis bumping and grinding in front of her filled her vision. Tall, dark and very, very sexy. God! If this guy was anything like the real God of War, then baby, she surrendered. No problem!

With a flick or two, the pair of mean-looking forearm bands went flying and tanned, muscled arms were revealed. The silver studded leather vest was next, tugged out of impossibly tight leather pants that did nothing to hide a substantial bulge. She swallowed. Large, spread hands ran suggestively over toned pectorals covered in a silky layer of golden-brown, crisp curls. Chest hair was her weakness and she was dying to tangle in Aries’, run her hands all over it, up and down . . . and down. . . The vest slid back over brawny shoulders that flexed with the beat until it, too, bit the dust.

Sam’s eyes widened. Her intimate acquaintance with semi-naked bodies, male bodies, was limited, but there was something decidedly familiar about the body of Aries. Something she couldn’t quite put her finger on. And the damn mask he was wearing didn’t help. Still, Sam had the impression of intense, lusty eyes nailing her through the holes in the leather mask. Did she know him? Who the hell was it?

Her temperature rose when he danced right in front of her, her vision filled with circling, leather-clad hips and a sensuously thrusting groin. The thought of all that maleness thrusting into her made her lick her lips. That was some serious yum! Wetness pooled between her thighs.

The song started to draw to a close, and disappointment flooded through Sam that it was nearly over. But as climaxes went, this one was worth the wait. With a snap of his wrists, the leather pants came away leaving nothing but a tiny— although, oh, my God! what it contained was anything but!— black leather thong, and he slid to the edge of the stage on his knees, nearly landing in her lap. She squirmed in her seat. One lick on her clit right then and she’d come!

That was when it hit her. . . The aftershave! She’d know that smell anywhere! Before she could follow the thought, Aries was slinking down the steps towards her, skin shiny with sweat, muscles— every single one of them— pumped, and he was looking hungry. He pulled her up against him, sweaty body and all— thank you, God!

And whipped off the mask.

Amber-green eyes stared at her with predatory intent, stunning her into silence.

“Happy birthday, sweetheart.”

The familiar voice rumbled over her sensitized nerve endings. Her heart stopped.

Ben?

And then he kissed her.

Not just a peck, but a full-on, tongue and all, scrape-me-up-off-the-floor-when-you-leave kinda kiss. Lethal. By the time he lifted his head, she was ready to melt into a puddle of goo on the floor. “I love you, Sam honey. Always have,” he whispered in her ear. He loved her? He wanted her? And then he was gone. He was her Aries? Mr. Over-the-top-and-impulsive? Sam blinked and sat down with a thump. Speechless. “So, what did you think? Turning thirty ain’t so bad, is it?” She turned to look dumbly at Jodi, and shook her head. It took a minute or two for her wits to return and suddenly she picked up her purse. “I’ve gotta go.”

“But I drove!” yelled Jodi to her departing back.

“I’ll catch a taxi!”

* * * *

At some point during the ride home, her heart rate managed to return to normal, although her libido had done anything but. She opened the door to her apartment and then collapsed against it as it shut.

Ben.

He loved her.

All that playing around and teasing through the week and this was what he’d been leading up to. At least that explained why had hadn’t taken her to bed. She’d certainly given him enough blasted opportunity! He had to have had this surprise planned all along.

Well, she’d have a surprise for him when he got home. . .

* * * *

Laughing, pumped, Ben ran backstage through the phalanx of guys clapping and slapping him on the back. He caught Jamie’s eye and winked.

“So, big brother,” said Jamie, his face creasing into a grin. “I honestly didn’t think you could do it. That was very impressive. The women were going nuts out there. You know, if you ever decide to give up your day job. . .”

“I don’t think so. But thanks, mate. With any luck, I can finally get things sorted out with Sam.”

“Is it that serious?”

“Uh huh,” said Ben, climbing into his jeans and pulling them up. “Marriage and kids serious.”

Greg came up and interrupted. “Not sure what you did out there, mate, but your lady just bolted out of here like the cops were after her.”

Ben turned to Greg, struggling with the studs on his jeans, his expression concerned. “What? Well how did she look? Was she smiling, crying . . . what?”

“Couldn’t tell. Thought you’d want to know, though.”

Hell! “Look, Jamie, I better go see if I can find her. Thanks, again,” he called, running for the exit. “Let me know how it turns out,” Jamie called after him.

Ten minutes later, he pulled into his parking space and killed the motor. Taking a deep breath, he got out of the car. If Sam wasn’t upstairs, he didn’t know where she might be. But then that would depend on whether she was happy or just plain pissed off with him.

Making a quick stop at his place, he dropped his bag, grabbed the spare key she’d given him when she moved in, and headed over to her place.

Not stopping to think or knock, he unlocked the door and rushed in.

Quiet.

He looked around frantically. A single lamplight shone from the bedroom and he headed there first. Empty.

“Sam?”

No answer.

With a sinking feeling, he realized she wasn’t home.

He’d blown it. The minute she’d realized it was him, she’d run.

Despair filled him, replacing the euphoria of moments ago.

The phone rang and he looked at it suspiciously. He looked at his watch. Who would be calling Sam at 10:30 at night? He waited for her cheeky recorded message to finish and the caller to speak. . .

“Ben honey? Whatcha doing?”

The breathy voice sent a rush of blood south.

“I’m here all alone . . . waiting for you. . .”

He didn’t wait to hear any more. With a wolfish grin, he sprinted the short distance back to his place, anticipation further fueling the ache in his groin.

His dash into the bedroom stopped dead at the sight that greeted him.

“Took you long enough,” she teased.

It was a dream he’d never thought to see in reality. His little Sam. Sitting on the edge of his bed. Legs crossed. All but naked. Those fucking scraps of lace didn’t count. Wouldn’t count in about two seconds. And she was waiting. For him.

“You realize what this means, don’t you, sweetheart?” Hunger made the words rough, a rumble against the stillness of the night. She was, without a doubt, the most beautiful sight he’d ever seen.

* * * *

Sam leaned back, dropping onto her elbows as Ben loomed over her, his hazel eyes darkening as he looked down at her. Wild eyes. Mouth a firm line. A muscle ticced in his jaw, the only indication of his struggle for control.

“What does it mean, Ben? Tell me,” she whispered. As he leaned closer, the fading hint of aftershave and spicy male washed over her. Her body reacted, growing flushed and warm. She swallowed deeply as he moved closer, his lips a breath away. A soft touch of his lips on hers, a casual lick along the seam before she opened to him. A hot tongue touched hers, stroking and flicking, and a moan escaped, swallowed up in the increasingly urgent, sexual tango of their mouths. Breathless, both, they pulled apart. She opened her eyes to see a different Ben, a darker Ben, taut with desire and determined.

His warm hand cupped her breast, flicking the nipple until it grew hard and taut under his touch. Leaving a trail of goose bumps in their wake, his fingers inched lower, dipping briefly into her belly button before swirling lower into the tight spread of curls at the apex of her thighs.

Slipping under the elastic of her lacy thong, a finger rimmed the opening, taking up the juices and then pushing inside. One finger, then two, setting up a steady rhythm. Her hips raised, seeking more. Deeper. Harder.

“You want to come, baby?”

She nodded.

“How about if I touch you here?”

A soft tap on her clit.

“Yes! Ben, please. . .”

“This . . . all of this,” his head dipped to nuzzle and nip at the hardened bud of a nipple through the lace, leaving it damp, “is mine now. All mine, baby.”

His thumb circled and skimmed over her highly sensitive clit. She could feel the tremors starting to gather, the wetness coating his fingers as he thrust them faster.

“Damn, I want to taste you so bad, sweetheart. . .”

“No! Don’t. Stop. . .”

“Don’t worry, I’ll have plenty of time. But later, I’m going to lick you dry, baby. I’m gonna take all the sweetness you can give me.”

As his teeth bit down on her tight, sensitive nipple, he thrust deep inside, his thumb massaging the pad of her clit.

A shattering climax tore through her, her juices flooding his hand, her body shaking as if in a fever. The tempo of his thrusts gradually slowed as she settled on the bed once more, her body limp.

With a flick on the clasp, the bra came free and slipped down her arms. Then his lips were brushing against hers again, a heated caress, softly pressing, his tongue easing inside to lick and play with hers. A shiver ran up her body as he tweaked her other nipple, pinching it firmly between his fingertips. “In my bed,” he growled, breaking the kiss, “permanently, baby. Now help me get out of these clothes before I fuck you like this.”

Sex with Ben was already more than anything she had even fantasized about, and they hadn’t even gotten to the good part yet. She sat up and ran her nail down the tense muscles of his abdomen, glancing up at him as she reached for the first stud. Her breath caught in her throat at the look on his face. Heat flooded through her. She made quick work of the rest of them and slid the leather pants down his legs leaving nothing but the straining black leather g-string. Running her fingers down over his hips, she hooked her fingers under the soft leather and eased it down. His cock, hard and erect, sprang out at her and as she watched, a pearly drop formed at the head. Her tongue flicked out to lick it off and he groaned.

“Suck me, baby,” he croaked. “Show me what that sweet little mouth of yours can do. . .”

She inhaled the heady scent of him. An indefinable blend of musk, sweat and male. Slowly, she sucked him in, taking her time to lave the underside, flicking the ridge teasingly with her tongue. Holding her head with gentle, but strong hands, he slowly thrust in and out. A muffled curse escaped as she relaxed her throat and he slid deeper. She wanted all of him— every single, glorious inch. . .

“Christ! Stop, baby. Don’t. Move.”

She froze at the desperate sound of his voice, waiting. Easing her head back, he pulled out of her mouth, his shaft glistening.

“Lay down.”

For the first time in her life, she felt the sexual power of a woman who has her man right where she wants him.

“Now, Sam. Before I smack that cute ass for making me wait any longer.”

Sam looked up at him, her mouth rounding into an “O” at the barely restrained excitement in his voice. “I’ve waited long enough, sweetheart, and I don’t have a whole lot of patience left in me.”

She turned over onto her hands and knees and moved further up the bed, glancing cheekily over her shoulder, and smiled back at him. “Make me.”

* * * *

Any intentions he had of making it long and slow flew out the window. His cock jerked up at her words, at the unmistakable challenge, and he grinned, a feral look on his face before he growled and dived for her.

She laughed as he grabbed her around the waist and flipped her over, the thong tearing with one loud rip, then coming over her until he settled into the cradle of her hips, grinding his erection against the silky heat that awaited him.

Grasping her face, holding her still, he met her lips with his, all the love and need of fourteen long years of waiting poured into the kiss. His tongue thrust into her mouth, tangling with hers, telling her of the hunger that raged through him. He nipped and held, before driving them both higher, wanting her to know, to believe and accept, that this . . . all of her . . . was his now. She whimpered when he released her, then reached for him and brought his mouth back to hers.

By the time he broke the kiss they were both panting.

“If I don’t get inside that tight pussy of yours in a second, sweetheart, I’m going to explode. “Wrap your hand around me. Guide me in.”

Bad move.

The minute her fingers touched him he almost came anyway. His cock felt hard enough to crack coconuts with. As she nestled him in the wet, flowering lips and he nudged the head in, she moaned underneath him and arched her hips up hard against him, driving him in halfway. It was enough to take his breath away.

“I thought I told you not to move.”

“But Ben, I can’t wait. . .” she whimpered with need. “I want you so much.”

Christ! She was going to kill him. He gritted his teeth and tried to get his cock under control. All it wanted to do was grind her into the bed and shoot until he was dry.

“And I want you too, but sweetheart, I’m real close. Just slowly. . . Make it last. . . That’s it,” he said, as he eased further and further into the tightness and heat that gripped his cock. Pulse thundering in his ears, breathing ragged, he reached down to lave a nipple, running his tongue over the dark pink tip before sucking strongly on it, gently nipping on the bud.

Her body trembled beneath him, shooting a ripple up his shaft like a current of electricity.

“Damn!” And with a single hard thrust he buried himself inside her, until their groins mashed together, and started pumping in and out, faster and faster as he felt the familiar rush of blood and heat through his body, running up his legs, down his back, centering finally in his groin. The sacs between his legs pulled up tight. Fighting to hold back, he stopped thrusting, their bodies locked. Panting, trying to regain some control, he cupped her face in his palms.

“I hope like hell you aren’t on the pill, sweetheart.”

“No, I’m not. Oh, Ben. I’m sorry.” She groaned in disbelief. “I forgot all about condoms.”

“That’s just as well. The sooner we get you pregnant, the sooner you’re gonna have to marry me.”

“Marry you?”

“Yeah. You got a problem with that, sweetheart?”

In reply, she bucked her hips at him. “No! Just do it! Please, Ben. . .”

At her movement, a pained moan escaped his lips. “Say yes, Sam. Tell me.”

“Yes! Yes! Now move, for God’s sake!”

“Well, it’s about fucking time!” He withdrew his cock until just the head was clasped inside her hot warmth. Her little whimpers drove him nuts and with a final groan he gave up and starting driving into her, pounding, in and out, over and over, the power of his thrusts banging the bed against the wall with each one.

And then he was kissing her like there was no tomorrow, thrusting inside her mouth, loving the taste of her, sure he would never get enough, licking a path down to her breasts and sucking hard on a nipple. A soft bite and she arched up against him, moaning his name repeatedly as the tight walls of her vagina clenched around his cock. With a roar, he drove in once more as he pulsed inside her, hot jets exploding out of him to drench her womb.

Struggling to stay on his elbows and not crush her with his weight, he opened his eyes to look down at his little shortie. “Love me, baby?”

* * * *

All these years and she hadn’t realized the man she’d been looking for, had given up on as a teenage crush, really had been under her nose all the time. Had wanted her, too. Ben. Her Aries. Sam had to smile. The man had not only given her the two best orgasms of her life, but he’d asked her to marry him and have his babies . . . and he needed reassurance? What could she say? “Yes, Ben, I do love you, you gorgeous nut.”

His satisfied grin said it all.

He kissed the tip of her nose. “I think four’s a good number, don’t you?”

“For what?”

“Kids. You and I aren’t getting any younger, sweetheart. Best not waste any more time.”

Like that would happen, she thought, and then realized what he was talking about when she felt him hardening inside her again. Oh yes, she couldn’t be happier.

Epilogue

“Sam?” Ben called out from the front door. The house was quiet. Which was unusual. One thing his house wasn’t— ever— was quiet. “Sam? You home, sweetheart?” He put down the flowers he’d picked up from the florist at lunchtime. Where the hell was she?

He turned to the fridge to grab a beer and saw a note held there with a magnet.

Get a beer, take a seat, and press play on the stereo.

Love you,

Sam.

Curious, but smiling, he did as instructed. He was tired. Taking a load off with a cold one sounded just right. Flopping down on the lounge, he grabbed the remote and pressed “play.” Just as his eyes drifted shut, a drum solo thumped out of the speakers making him look up in surprise.

Which was just as well.

The image coming toward him, sensuously rolling her hips with suggestive bumps and grinds, would be burned into his retinas for as long as he lived.

Tight black leather bustier, garters, black thigh-high stockings, high heels that made her legs look like they went on forever. . .

Sam? Honey?

Beer forgotten, he licked his lips and sat back in amazement while his wife made her way over to him, sashaying and shimmying to the beat of the music with a skill and sensuality that made his heart nearly jump out of his chest.

And the smile on her face was totally wicked.

Leaning over, the scent of something exotic— Christ knows what it was but it was driving him crazy— filled his head as she wiggled those luscious breasts in his face. His tongue and hands were itching to taste and touch. . .

When she turned around and bent over, showing nothing but that gorgeous ass and seamed stockings, he nearly came in his pants.

Oh, yeah! She was definitely trying to kill him. And he loved it!

Slowly, one by one, she started to release the hooks on the bustier, teasing him as inch by inch the fullness was released. God, he loved her breasts! He could spend a lifetime nestled between them. He swallowed as she shrugged the corset off, shimmying it down her arms to fall on the floor. When she cupped her breasts, molding the fullness and seeming to offer them to him, he made to get up but she shook her head. All it took was her playing with her nipples, pinching them, making them hard, and his cock decided to try and break free. In pain, he helped it out by sliding his zipper down and releasing it from its confinement, palming it, stroking it slowly. He had to get his mouth around one of those gorgeous tits before he starved. He’d see the rest of the fucking dance later. Right now, if he didn’t get inside her within the next few seconds, he figured he’d have a hard-on for the rest of his life.

He made to stand when a foot landed on his chest. It was what followed that brought him undone. When she ran her hands all over her body, skimming over her hips, thrusting her breasts at him, before skimming down over pink-tinged flesh to dip her finger into the top of her garter suggestively, lower and lower.

That was when he noticed. He licked his lips and grinned. Jesus Christ!

His sexy little wife, mother of his son and all future babies, didn’t have any panties on— no thong, nothing. Nothing to hide the fact that all he could see were the juicy, wet lips of her . . . waxed pussy? God! . . . peeking out at him as she ground her hips in front of his face. She stepped back, and her reaction— a come-hither smile and a cheeky wink— was all the invitation he needed.

With a primal growl, he grabbed her. Somehow, they made it to the floor because the next thing he knew, he was driving inside her with one savage thrust, fully clothed except for his open fly. The dance was over. But he wasn’t finished. No way.

Hungry. Starving. In time with the pulsing beat of Addicted to Love blaring from the speakers, he stroked in and out, the full length of his shaft sinking deep into the heat of Sam’s swollen pussy. Fuck, that was so good! He’d never get enough of her.

Along the entire length of his shaft, he could feel her tighten and clench around him.

Dragging out the torment as long as he could, he proved to his naughty wife, once-and-for-all, just how much he was addicted to her. She was a drug. His drug. And he just couldn’t get enough of her. Never would.

“Take me, baby. All of me,” he cried out and he ground against her.

Her body arched up against him, nails scoring down the tense muscles of his buttocks, making him jerk harder inside her.

Quite possibly he drowned out Robert Palmer when he came, feeling his orgasm sucked up his body from his toes to shoot out the head of his cock. Damn! His climax hit him, the force of it nearly making him black out.

* * * *

That was Ben, she thought happily. Her Aries. Ready and willing at a moment’s notice. “Happy anniversary, baby,” she sighed, wiping the sweat off his brow.

“You want to tell me where the hell you learned to do that? Do I have to kill anybody?” If Jamie had taught her that little number, there would be one less son in the Newcombe family. Now that he was thinking with his head and not his cock, jealousy reared its ugly head. Just the thought of another man being privy to what he’d just seen was enough to make him want to hit something.

She laughed at him like she always did when he got a bit too caveman. “No, honey. A friend of Jamie’s— a lady friend,” she stressed when he started to glower with a possessive glare, “works in one of the nightclubs downtown. She gave me a few . . . pointers. You like?”

“You mean my reaction wasn’t enough?” God, he was lying on top of her still dressed with his cock buried to the hilt! But feeling safe once again that she was all his, would always be his and only his, he grinned. “One day I’d like to see the whole routine, but I get the feeling you might have to . . . ahh . . . tie me down.”

“Ooh, that can be arranged.”

“You like the idea of tying me up, huh?”

“Let’s just say, it has possibilities. But only if you’re prepared to return the favor.”

Visions of Sam stretched out naked on their bed, bound and blindfolded, hit him. Oh yeah! “You’re on, sweetheart. We might have to delay it a bit though.”

“Why?”

“You do realize what happened the last time we did this little striptease thing, don’t you?”

“Uh huh. That’s the plan,” she said and winked at him.

Adam, number one, their rambunctious one-year-old, was the product of their other “strip show.” Ben hoped like crazy that the same result would come from this little effort. He was more than ready for numbers two, three and four.

“You know what, Ben? I can’t figure it out,” she said as she interrupted his plans for their personal contribution to the population explosion.

“What’s that, sweetheart?”

“You’re an Aries, I’m a Taurus. We aren’t meant to be compatible. I dated other Aries guys— hell, I even married one the first time. Why do we work so well together?”

He laughed and cast his mind back a couple of years when he was so desperate to get her to see him, to fall in love with him. . .

“Easy. I’m a dog and you’re a tiger.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Well, you seemed so hung up on the whole astrology thing, that I needed some ammunition in case you threw the Aries/Taurus thing at me and wouldn’t marry me. So one of the guys at work put me onto Chinese astrology. I’m a dog and you’re a tiger, and honey, we’re eighty-nine percent compatible. Does that make a difference?”

“Not in the grand scheme of things.” She laughed at how prepared he’d been for rejection. “I think it was more just a case of the right man.

“I never really believed all that astrology stuff anyway.”

The End

About the Author:

Susie Charles was born in Sydney, Australia and with the exception of two short stints— one in Alice Springs, the other in the highlands of New Guinea— has never lived more than spitting distance from a beach.

Of course, growing up surrounded by bronzed Aussies and surfies gave her ample opportunity to form an appreciation for the physical beauty of the male of the species, although these days she stays out of trouble by looking and not touching. Well, mostly not touching. . . It's wonderful how many things fall under the banner of 'research' when you're a writer.

After a variety of careers spanning everything from restaurant owner to computer trainer, Susie finally discovered (just in time before she retires) what she wants to be when she grows up, and combines her love of writing with a new and hectic career as a freelance editor.

You can reach Susie at [e-mail]

Meet Lsb Authors At http://lsbooks.net

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