The Forbidden Twin(5)

She smoothed the fabric along her thighs. He wanted to do that, too, then lay his head in her lap.

"Where did you go?" she asked.

"L.A. My partners and I are expanding the markets for some new clients, growing the firm. It seemed like a good time to go."

"So your decision was because of business, not because of-"

She didn't finish the sentence. Would she have said "Summer" or herself?

She angled toward him a little, which created a gap in the robe,  allowing him a glimpse of the upper swell of her lush breast. He really  needed to stop fixating on her body.

"Business," he said. Which was not entirely true. He'd manufactured some  business that needed one of the partners' attention, then had  volunteered to go. His ad agency was already hugely successful, but  there was always room to expand.

"I see."

A long silence followed.

"Why are you here, John?"

He finally remembered the reason. "I just wanted to make sure you were  okay with … what happened. I don't want things to be awkward between us,  since we're bound to run into each other now and then."

"I think picturing you naked will remove any sense of awkwardness for me."

Her eyes took on some sparkle. He was glad to see it.

"It's vivid for me, too," he said.

"It was good, John, but emotionally charged. We need to remember that. Make it real, instead of … "

"Surreal."

"Exactly. A fantasy, nothing more."

"And a one-time thing." He added the tiniest inflection at the end,  turning the phrase into a question if she chose to hear it that way.

"Absolutely." Definite. Certain. No question.

He looked away. He had his answer. "Okay. I'm glad we cleared that up."

"Me, too."

He shifted a little. "I didn't use protection."

"We both got carried away. But there's no problem."

"Good. Great." He stood. "I'll go, then."

He heard her follow him. The air seemed thick. Breathing took effort. He  turned when he reached the door, wishing he could read her mind.

"Is there something else you want?" she asked, reaching toward him then pulling back.

"You," he answered, catching her hand, tugging her toward him. "I want you."

"John … ." There was hunger in her voice, need in her eyes.

Then they were in each other's arms, kissing, moaning, hands wandering,  bodies pressing. She tipped her head back as he dragged his mouth down  her neck, her robe separating, revealing her naked body, warm and dewy,  as if she'd just stepped out of the bath.

"You're all I've thought about," he said just before drawing a nipple  into his mouth, cupping the most feminine part of her with his hand.  "You. This."                       
       
           



       

"Me, too." Her voice was deep, breathy. "Come with me."

He went willingly into her bedroom. Lights were on full. Sketches were  everywhere-tacked on corkboard on the wall, scattered over the floor,  even on the bed, an unmade jumble of linens. She swept the papers away.  They drifted to the floor, as did her pale blue robe, pooling around her  feet, making her look like a goddess rising from the sea.

He jerked his sweater over his head, got rid of his shoes and socks. He  touched his belt. She brushed his hands away and undid it, all the while  looking at his face. Her color was high, her cheekbones sharp, her eyes  a deeper green. Her lips were swollen from kissing, and parted  slightly. He felt his slacks drop to the floor and kicked them away.  Then she hooked his briefs and tugged. As she knelt to remove them, her  hair brushed his abdomen, then his thighs, his shins.

He dug his fingers into her scalp, pulled her hair into his fists,  squeezed his eyes shut. A month of fantasies became reality. Hell, not  just a month, a lifetime, but a month of specific fantasies about one  particular woman.

When her exploration became more daring, he pulled her up, moved her  back and made her stretch out on the bed. He wanted to drag it out, make  it last, but he lost all sense of control and finesse. He plunged into  her. She arched into him. His body blasted apart in a long series of  hot, explosive, rhythmic sensations. She clenched him from inside and  climaxed with him, her face contorted, her mouth open. Then their  movements slowed … stopped. He rolled over, taking her along. She  stretched out on top of him and he wrapped her close.

For a long time, neither spoke.



Scarlet had spent the better part of the past month-months,  really-convincing herself that she didn't love John, that she'd merely  been infatuated because he was so different, attentive to Summer in ways  that no man had been attentive to her. She'd been envious, that was  all, and had created a fantasy about him. Now she was back at square  one. Because she did love him.

Now, how could she keep him in her life long enough for those feelings  to run their course? Obviously absence hadn't helped. And obviously they  couldn't go public. People would assume that John and Summer had slept  together, so the idea of Scarlet sleeping with her sister's ex-fiancé  was-She couldn't even come up with the right words.

Appearances were important, especially for John, personally and  professionally. And while Scarlet had a reputation, such a liaison with  John would be beyond her usual outrageousness. How could they get past  that? Not to mention him coming in contact with Summer.

And also not to mention she was probably a kind of substitute for her  sister, a way to end his curiosity about her. Why else would he have  come on this strong? He would certainly want closure; she would, in his  shoes. Since he'd missed out on a physical relationship with Summer,  having one with Scarlet could give him closure. Of sorts.

The thought that she and Summer might be interchangeable in his mind  made her a little sick to her stomach. But maybe he wasn't thinking that  way at all. Maybe she was just imagining it.

So, now what? It seemed to Scarlet they needed to let the attraction  burn in a controlled environment or it might be a bank of embers  forever, taking on too much importance as time passed, always waiting to  flare.

She had an idea … .

"Do you still want lessons?" she asked, burrowing against him, not wanting to see his face.

His arms tightened around her, and he drew a long breath, as if she'd awakened him. "Lessons?"

"Last time you asked for help honing your skills."

"You said I didn't need lessons."

"Not in bed. But you could learn something about being more romantic if you want to woo a woman into bed … in the regular way."

After a long, drawn-out moment of silence, he rolled to his side with  her, then propped himself on an elbow to look her in the eyes. His were  filled with humor. His dimples deepened. "Woo?"

She shoved his shoulder as he laughed, apparently at her use of such an  old-fashioned term. "You have to admit you could use lessons."

His smile faded some. "I admit it. Instinct doesn't seem to be serving  me well. Except-" he slid a hand down her back and pulled her closer  "-where you're concerned."

"Only in regards to sex, then." She knew he didn't return her feelings.

"No stronger instinct, is there?"

She shrugged.

He stroked her hair, tucked it behind her ear. "So, you'd be willing to  advise me on how to properly woo a woman? What would that entail?"

Lots of time together. Lots of touching. Lots of- "Lessons," she said instead.                       
       
           



       

"Homework?"

She hadn't thought about that. He would have to experiment on other  women, to see if the lessons worked. That would never do. "You'll  practice on me. If you can make me fall under your spell, then you know  it can work on any woman."

"She says humbly."

"I'm not being egotistical. I'm just immune to the games of most men."

"What happens if you do fall under my spell?"

She had no answer for that. She'd dug a ditch she couldn't climb out of, however.

"Seems to me this is a game with potentially disastrous outcomes," he said.

"Or fun ones." She laid a hand along his face. "It's very selfish, I suppose, to want this."

"But if we're both in agreement, what's the harm?"

"We're adults, after all."

He said nothing for a few seconds, then seemed to relax. "When would we start?"

"Sometime when we're dressed."

He grinned. "In the meantime … " He hooked a leg over hers, bringing her  closer then kissing her until she forgot everything but the feel of his  mouth. "Will this be part of the wooing?" he asked, dragging his lips  along her jaw.