Her Not-So-Secret Diary(20)

       
           



       

'What's wrong?' Loud knocking on the door. 'Sophie?'

'Get it out!' Through the glass enclosure, she was aware of Jared  bursting into the room but her eyes were pinned to the sight inches from  her toes while she struggled to open the door. She finally got the door  to slide and all but fell out of the shower, backing up as far away as  she could. 'That … that … ' It was all she could get past her constricted  throat.

Shutting the water off, Jared reached for the wooden handled back scrub  hanging beneath the shower head and she screwed her eyes shut …

Water trickled down her cooling body as she clasped her arms around her  and heard a series of loud knocks. A convulsive shiver shuddered down  her spine. 'Oh, God.' She didn't want to know how he'd done it, only  that he had. 'Is it dead? Is it gone?'

'It's dead.' She heard the toilet flush. 'And now it's gone.'

A tortured sigh escaped her lips. Only then did she take it all in. She  was naked. He wore jeans, nothing else. She slid her eyes to his,  willing him to do the same.

To his gentlemanly credit, his gaze remained locked with hers. Not even a  flicker of a glance where it shouldn't go. He reached for a towel on  the rail beside him, passed it to her.

'Thanks.' She grabbed it and pulled it in front of herself. Shivering.  With cold or relief or excitement? 'Just so you know, I'm not one of  those squealy women,' she felt compelled to point out. 'Normally. But  those … ' She shuddered again.

'Okay.' He didn't move a muscle. But there was a flicker of movement at  one corner of his mouth saying maybe he believed her, maybe not.

'I'm going to get back in there now,' she said, as much to herself as to  him. Then another flesh-crawling thought …  'You don't think it came up  the drain, do you? What if it has a mate somewhere … '

'I don't know. Maybe you should let me stay here and make sure.' There  was a roguish light in those eyes, a hint of the devil in his chivalrous  words. He reached into the stall and switched the water back on for  her.

Then-and she didn't know what demon possessed her … yes she did and his  name was Jared Sanderson-she tossed the towel on the floor and stepped  under the water. 'Maybe I should.' Her heart was hammering, her blood  coursing hotly through her veins. Take a chance, be that sensual woman  you want to be. Knowing she was starting something she might not be able  to stop, keeping her back to him, she dangled her soap-filled  sponge-on-a-string over one shoulder. 'And maybe I should let you be  useful and wash my back while you wait.'

She felt him take the sponge and, oh, that first glide across her  shoulders was warm, slow and reassuringly impersonal. Another pass, this  time down her spine, stopping at her waist. Then pressure at the base  of her neck.

She inhaled sharply. 'That's not my sponge … '

'No.'

Thumbs. Working tensed muscles in her neck. Then hands. Slick, soapy  hands that began at her nape and slid across her shoulders. Down either  side of her spine and over the curve of her waist, fingers both  tantalisingly close to the sides of her breasts and frustratingly far  away.

And she maybe shouldn't have let him start …  Her breathing grew heavy. So  did her breasts-heavy and tight and full. She wanted to turn around and  let him give them the same slow, slick attention.

His hands slid lower and cupped her bottom. Her feminine core grew hot,  her breaths quickened. But when his thumbs dipped between her butt  cheeks, then lightly down the backs of her thighs, her legs sagged and  she braced her hands on the tiles in front of her for support. 'Jared.'

'Right here, honey,' he murmured, his lips so close she could feel his  breath hot on her ear. He'd stepped into the shower-she could smell the  wet denim-but the only part of him in contact with her were his hands.

And what contact.

'This was a bad idea … ' She gasped when his exploration grew bolder, his fingers delved deeper. Too deep. Not nearly deep enough …

'You don't really think that,' he assured her.

'Oh. Yes. I. Do.' She was so breathless she couldn't seem to get out more than one word at a time between shallow gulps of air.

'So you want me to stop … ' His hands moved away.

'Yes. No,' she moaned.

She heard his soft chuckle, then sent up a prayer of thanks when his  newly soaped-up hands skimmed her waist and came around to cup her  breasts. Holding their weight in his palms, he massaged and teased,  swirling his fingertips around her tight nipples and sending sensation  spiralling to her core and lower, between her thighs.                       
       
           



       

Steam billowed and swirled around them like an intimate cloak. Just the  two of them in their own private steam bath. The water pelting her now  oversensitised body felt like hot hailstones and sounded harsh in the  stall's confines.

She squirmed as the ache between her legs intensified. Moving her legs  farther apart, she arched her back and begged him silently to, 'Touch  me.'

She hadn't realised she'd spoken aloud but her whispered plea sounded  harsh and desperate in the humid air and not like her at all. And then  one of his hands was between her thighs, fingernails cruising along her  slippery cleft, the fingers of his other hand rolling a nipple, teasing  it into almost unbearable hardness.

'Like this?' he whispered against her ear and plunged his fingers inside  her. He withdrew them slowly, drawing out the wetness along her  sensitised flesh and making her moan some more.

Her legs trembled like stalks of wheat in a rain storm. She leaned her  forehead against the cool tiles as well as her hands. 'Yes.' Exactly  like that.

He repeated his exquisite torture. And again. Over and over, each thrust  of his fingers more erotic, more persuasive. His lips nuzzled her neck  then bit gently, possessively, and his voice was thick with arousal when  he said, 'You're so hot. So deliciously wet.'

His explicit words, the skilful way he touched her, as if he'd known her  body for years, the sound of his voice against her ear sent her soaring  up, up, up. Over the silky precipice on a low heartfelt cry, her body  convulsing around his fingers.

'Oh. Wow,' she whispered when she'd got her breath back. His hands trailed over her thighs, then away.

But when she finally turned, she saw nothing but steam and a trail of water across the tiles. He was gone.

Like a dream.



How did you walk into a room to face your boss as if you hadn't just  been given the most intense orgasm of your life? Sophie wondered as she  stared at her reflection in the bedroom mirror. She adjusted the collar  on the cream dress and asked herself how did you face that boss, the one  who'd given you that orgasm, over a business dinner as if your private  parts weren't still on fire and already aching for more?

Grabbing her jacket and purse from the chair, she headed for the living room. She was about to find out.

He was wearing a charcoal suit and baby-blue pinstriped shirt with  matching blue tie and watching the local news on the ginormous  flat-screen TV on the wall. His short hair was still damp and his fresh  foresty scent drifted in the warm air.

His gaze flicked to hers across the expanse of tiled floor. Dark,  hungry, slightly desperate. As if he wanted to eat her alive and wanted  nothing to do with her at the same time. And she could hardly blame him.  As earth-shattering as her climax had been, it hadn't exactly been a  mutually shared and satisfying experience.

'Hi,' she said, since he didn't seem inclined to speak.

He looked her up and down, then his eyes lingered on her bare legs and she saw his jaw clench.

'Is it too short? It's too short.' She should have gone for the mid-calf  green instead of the above-the-knee. Thoughtless under the  circumstances. 'I'll ch-'

'It's not too short.' He cleared the huskiness from his throat and a  little of the tension eased from his features. 'It's fine just the way  it is. You look lovely.'

'Thanks. So do you. Well, not lovely exactly,' she babbled on. 'More smart, savvy businessman.'

'I'm not sure how smart and savvy this businessman's going to be this  evening.' Flicking off the TV with the remote, he crossed to her, curled  hard fingers around her upper arms. 'I didn't play it too damn smart  back there in the bathroom.' His olive-green eyes turned to unreadable  slate and he dropped his hold as if he'd been stung.

Her cheeks burned, sparks shot through her bloodstream. Her body was  already clamouring for an encore of his sexpertise and he regretted it?

Jared clamped his jaw shut. She looked like a fantasy in that  nude-coloured dress and black shoes. And if he stood here a microsecond  longer looking into those molten amber eyes and knowing he was  responsible for putting the heat in them, he'd lose his tenuous hold on  control and his smart savvy business reputation really would be a  memory. Turning away, he strode to the door. 'Let's go.'