Vivian Arend - High Passion

Alisha raised a brow. “Well, we could come back here, or we could try a few of the other things you mentioned.”

Hmm, oh yeah. “Back of the couch?”

Her laughter rang as he got to his feet and pulled her to vertical. “Only if you close the door this time.”

“Not into performing for the neighbours? Exhibitionism isn’t your thing?”

He accepted the pants she handed him. If he’d expected to make her squirm it hadn’t worked. Alisha backed out his bedroom door, staring him down as she spoke. “Well, I never said that.”

She twisted and disappeared down the hall while his brain tried to catch up. Devon hurried to pull on his sweats, hopping forward as he pulled them up one leg. “Wait a minute, does that mean what I think it means? Alisha, don’t you say something like that and then walk away.”

He caught her in the kitchen already digging in his fridge. The smooth curve of her ass—God, he was fixated—wiggled at him as she pulled things from the trays. Devon laid a hand on the tight curves and stroked lightly.

She straightened and pressed sandwich fixings against his chest. “Food now, more fucking later. I don’t think we need to plan the details, do we? Surprises are so much more fun.”

Alisha sashayed to the right and pulled a loaf of bread forward. Devon jerked himself back to control, unable to stop grinning.

They might have had a hell of a week, but he would totally take it.

Sandwiches were consumed, soup vanished. Small talk led to another round of sweaty, inventive sex, followed by another—why had she turned Devon down for so long?

Playboy. Notch on the bedpost.

Alisha stretched naked on the sheets, head toward the foot of the bed, her hand bumping his thigh. All of her previous excuses had melted away in the flood of desire and need he’d begun in her. Okay, this wasn’t for forever anyway, and she was using him as much as he was using her.

In the big scheme of things, she was good with it.

Devon caught her hand as she trickled her fingers up his thigh, stopping her before she could touch anything important. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but we need to take a break.”

She laughed. “Poor baby, did I work you over too hard?”

He pivoted her until they were lying side by side in the same direction. “When a sixty-nine makes me nearly pass out, I’d say I was low on fuel, or something. I will admit defeat if you tell me you want me to start something new.”

She played her hands over his shoulders, just because she could. “No, not really. I’m pretty happy right now.”

His blue eyes watched her every move. “I’m game for more later, but at some point we need to get out of bed.”

“Hmm, I suppose.” The sex was damn good, though. “Getting out of bed means returning to reality.”

Devon trapped her fingers against his chest. “This was no sexual wet dream, Alisha. It happened. All afternoon, it happened.”

“I don’t think I’ve had that many orgasms in a day since . . . well, ever.” His gloating expression prompted her to smack him lightly on the chest. “Ego much?”

“Hey, you said it, not me.” Devon turned more serious. “This isn’t a onetime deal. I want more of you.”

She wanted more of him, so that wasn’t the trouble. Only there were lines, concerns she had, and not addressing them would be stupid. “You said it earlier. We’re going to spend more time together in the next while than usual. I don’t mind a bit of extracurricular activity thrown in with that.”

He nodded but still looked strangely somber. He didn’t say anything else, though, and she was glad.

Sex had changed things. She needed time and space to raise the walls in a new manner. Before, when she’d been denying what their bodies wanted, it had been simpler to keep everything on the “do not touch” side of her brain.

Now that he’d slipped under her physical barrier, she needed to consider what other secrets she was willing to drop.

Her phone rang, the musical tones making them both jerk. When his phone didn’t go off as well, relief hit hard.

Devon chuckled as she scrambled to grab her phone from the bottom of her bag. “We’re going to have to be careful not to fuck each other out of rescue commission.”

She put her finger to her lips to shush him before answering the call. It was impossible to look away as he sat on the mattress and watched her, the muscles of his abdomen bunched into a nice, solid six-pack. His cock far from flaccid—did the man ever lose his semi? Her voice sounded breathless, even to her. “Hello.”

“Alisha.”

Oh, shit. Vincent. All the lovely sexual endorphins floating through her system scurried away. She’d totally forgotten his invitation to dinner. She ignored the question in Devon’s eyes and turned away, stepping toward the bathroom for privacy. “Hi, Vincent.”

“I’ve made reservations at the main dining room. I’ll pick you up in thirty minutes.”

She scrambled to jerk her brain online to deal with this. “I’m really tired. Maybe we should—”

He laughed, the sound creating a far different response than Devon’s. Rather than making her want to join in, the condescension put her back up. A doting older relative putting up with a wayward child, even though that comparison was wrong in about fifty ways. “You still need to eat.”

She longed to tell him to fuck off, but her hands were tied, and not in a good way. “The Banff Springs is not a place you go simply to refuel, Vincent.”

“If you have somewhere else you’d prefer, please, let me know. I can be accommodating.”

Oh hell. She stared into the bathroom mirror, the love bites on her neck and body making her scramble for a towel to cover herself even though he was on the phone and had no idea what she’d been up to. Perhaps the best way to get rid of him was to give in this once. Get it over with. He couldn’t be staying around town for long. “No, that’s fine. But I’ll join you there. I need to do a few things on my way.”

“I don’t mind stopping.”

“No, this is easier,” she insisted. She glanced quickly at her phone for the time. Damn, she’d never find a way to get ready in thirty minutes. “Only, could you move the reservation to seven, please?”

“Of course, sweetheart. Use valet parking. I’ll meet you at the doors.” He hung up with no further comment, obviously not expecting her to do anything but agree with his directions.

An hour.

An hour to get home, find a dress that would cover the very vivid marks of her and Devon’s thorough sexing, not to mention putting on enough makeup to cover the ravages from her recent sleepless nights.

The bathroom door opened, and Devon glanced in cautiously. “Is it safe?”

She held the top of the towel with one hand and shrugged. “Come in. Sorry. No time for a lengthy ‘you scrub my back and I’ll scrub yours.’ I have to go.”

Devon nodded, leaning his shoulder on the door frame. “Hot date?”

He repeated his words from the previous day. They were as annoying now as they’d been before.

“No,” she snapped, frustration making her response sharper than she’d intended. Devon didn’t move. Didn’t ask any more questions, he only looked plenty. She sighed and joined him, catching the waist of his sweats and leaning in close. “Vincent works with my father. His family and mine are old friends, and I can’t just blow him off.”

Devon tucked his fingers under her chin, lightly stroking his thumb over her cheek. “You don’t need to explain, but you don’t seem too thrilled.”

“I’m not.” For so, so many reasons. “But in the interest of keeping the peace, I should go.”

He stared for a moment, then nodded. “Feel free to grab a shower here if you want.”

He left the room, and all the oxygen seemed to suck out after him.

Shit.

She followed him into the bedroom, but he was gone. Tugging on her clothes, finding her socks—all of it strange and far more awkward than she’d expected. She pulled her backpack over her shoulder and fisted her keys, bracing herself to say good-bye.

He was in the kitchen, barefoot and bare chested. She wavered for a moment, almost ready to toss the plans with Vincent out the window, but . . . she couldn’t. “Hey, I’ll call you tomorrow. Dream up crazy things for me to do, okay?”

He looked up, dropping the Tupperware container in his hand to the counter and striding to her side. “I’ll be good and assume you didn’t mean that in a sexual way.”

She grinned before she realized he was still staring at her with an unreadable expression.

Devon nodded. “I’ll do some research tonight. See what I can find.”

“Thanks.”

Awkward. Teenage-crush awkward. With the tension between them now it was hard to believe he’d fucked her against the wall only hours earlier.

Devon snarled in frustration. “What the hell.”

He grabbed her and laid another kiss on her, his body tight to hers, their lips crushed together. Every second that passed meant she’d have to rush more later, but she couldn’t break away. Couldn’t let go of where she’d caught him, her fingers fisted in his hair.

Devon was the one who jerked them apart, his grin firmly in place. “I hope you have a lovely dinner.”

Her body buzzed from the kiss. From all the things he’d done to her bounding through her memory like the Energizer bunny on aphrodisiacs. “I expect the food to be wonderful and the company to suck, thank you.”

He turned her to the door and let her out, patting her ass as she walked past. “You need anything, call, okay?”