“I’m planning to market this as a kit. We’ve put together all the essentials. Some organic massage oil, a few naturally flavored gels, and some other goodies.” She winked at Laurie. “We want to keep things interesting.”
Interesting. There was that word again. She managed a smile and another thank you, and then made her way back to the party, wondering if everyone she passed was secretly thinking, Get a load of the interesting girl Booker brought, and her interesting bag of tricks.
Booker appeared out of nowhere, and handed her a glass of wine. “I was about to send out a search party.”
She took a swallow, but her mouth went dry as she looked at him. The uniform had always done it for her, but tonight he was walking, talking, broad-shouldered suit porn. Corporate America had missed out big time when Booker had opted for law enforcement over a corner office. “I got waylaid. Said hello to your good friend, Miranda, and then had a chat with your mother.”
“Busy girl. What’s in the bag?”
“I don’t want to tell you, and you don’t want to know. Let’s just say your mom is committed to your health and happiness.”
His eyes narrowed on the bag, and then flicked to her. She raised a brow.
“You’re right. I don’t want to know. Feel like getting some fresh air?” He shrugged his jacket off. The sight of him in his tailored, white shirt did ridiculous things to her hormones, and shoved a whole lot of her earlier crazy to the back of her mind. Don’t overcomplicate things. You’re two consenting adults with a mutual attraction. Nothing could be simpler.
“Fresh air isn’t really what I’m in the mood for right now.” She turned so she faced him and rested a hand on his chest. Beneath his shirt, his heart beat strong and steady. “Remember what you promised me if I came in here and played nice with your family?”
His eyes darkened and his hand strayed to the small of her back. “I do.”
?
??Did I earn it?”
“Hell yes. Any way you want it, for as long as you can take it.”
…
“Oh my God. No more. I can’t take it,” Lauralie moaned into the pillow she hugged, and dug her heels into his collarbones in a halfhearted attempt to pull away. He clamped his hands around her waist, and used his tongue to prove her wrong. She took it, and took it, until the momentum of her orgasm lifted her body almost completely off the bed. A few pulsing seconds later she collapsed onto the mattress.
“I think I’m paralyzed. I can’t feel anything from the waist down.”
He dislodged one foot from his shoulder, and kissed the arch. “Feel that?”
“Um…I’m not sure.”
“How about this?” He kissed the inside of her knee.
Her lips curved into a smile. “Hmm. Nope,” she replied, not bothering to open her eyes.
“Time for extraordinary measures.” He flipped her over, and bit her ass.
She shrieked, and struggled to get her knees under her. “Booker…!”
“Hey, look at that. You’re cured.” He released her and ducked to avoid her foot as she scrambled across the bed. “It’s a miracle.”
A pillow sailed over and bounced off his chest. “It’s a miracle you didn’t get kicked in the head.”
He eased onto the bed, staying low. “Fortune favors the bold.” Because it was there, he brushed his lips over her ankle, and then drew away and ran his thumb over the small, smooth dents of the two triangle shaped scars.
She stiffened for a moment, as if realizing he inspected the scars. He looked at her, not surprised to see wary blue eyes focused on him. “Surfing?”
“I don’t remember. They’ve always been there.”
He kissed the old wounds again. They’d spent the evening with his family, so he’d deliberately brought them back to her place, where she’d feel most comfortable. Her turf. Her bed. Her safe zone. If he couldn’t get an honest answer out of her now, they were doomed. “You have an excellent memory, Lauralie.”
She stayed silent so long he almost prompted her again, but then she said, “When I was little—like four or five—my mom took me with her one afternoon while she visited her friend Bob.” She made air quotes around the word.
“Uncle Bob?” He deliberately kept the question light, although muscles tightened in his gut.