Body Double (26 page)

“Doesn’t that look comfortable?” he asked, gesturing to the bed.

It did. And when her mind conjured an image of Blake lying in that bed, naked under those covers and lying on top of her, moaning into her ear, she started to the door. She had to get out of there, and fast. “You have a lovely home. It’s getting late, and I’d like to shower before bed. It’s been a long day.”

“I wash backs.”

“Stop,” she said, spinning around to face him with a pointing finger. “I don’t want to keep telling you no, Blake. I don’t. But I honor my promises, and you need to honor yours too.”

“I am. I will. Believe it or not, I can sleep in the same bed with you without making love. I could even shower with you and behave like a perfect gentleman.”

“I’m glad you have so much self-control,” she said.
Because I don’t. Not when it comes to you.

“All right,” he said quietly as he strolled up to her. “I’ll stop flirting and making suggestive comments. I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable. What do you say tomorrow we invite my mom to supper? I’m sure she’d like to hear about Hawaii.”

“Sure, that sounds good. Good-night, Blake.”

He caressed her lovingly with his gaze and kissed her forehead. “’Night, babe. Sweet dreams.”

Andrea went to her room and shut the door behind her, though she didn’t lock it. She wanted to show Blake she trusted him not to sneak into her room during the night. Of course, if he didn’t, then he would never know that she’d left her door unlocked. And if he did, he might see it as an invitation. As she unpacked the extra clothes she’d brought from Sarah’s house, putting them into the empty drawers in the dresser, she went round and round in her mind over whether to push the lock lever or leave it.

This was her first night in two weeks sleeping alone and apart from Blake, and already her body was yearning for him. She took a shower, put on the clean nightgown, and climbed into bed.

She lay in the dark as minutes ticked by, wishing she didn’t have to get used to sleeping apart from Blake. When had she gone from liking him to falling in love with him? How was she supposed to go back to her Blake-less life, knowing what it felt like to be cared for and protected by a real man? She alternately cried into the pillow and steeled her resolve, admonishing herself for getting into this situation in the first place.

She turned over for what had to be the gazillionth time and stared into the red glow of the alarm clock on the bedside table, which read 1:31. Great. She tried to calm her restless mind by focusing on the sounds around her: the distant, muffled ticking of a grandfather clock downstairs, the breeze outside the window rustling the leaves of the trees. A few more minutes ticked by, and the breeze strengthened to howling wind gusts. A few raindrops tapped on the window, and a few more, and soon a steady patter gave way to angry beating against the window, as if it were demanding to be let in. Thunder rumbled in the distance, and she pulled the covers up tightly, grasped in her fist.

Great. A freaking storm.

Ever since being struck by lightning as a teenager, storms terrified her. Rain by itself didn’t bother her, but she’d developed an irrational fear that no matter where she was, lightning would find her.

Occasional flickers of lightning became more frequent, lighting up her room. She climbed warily out of bed to pull down the blind. If she didn’t see the lightning, it wouldn’t see her, and she’d be safe.

A bright flash illuminated the backyard down below. A cushion had come off its chair and was floating in the pool, and a few dozen leaves fluttered across the pool deck and into the water. A particularly loud crack of thunder startled her, and she scurried back to the bed and leaped onto it, then pulled the covers up to her chin. And she hadn’t gotten the shade pulled down either, damn it.

It was 1:50, and now, with the storm raging outside, it would be next to impossible to fall asleep. She could wait it out downstairs, curled up in a robe and blanket, away from any windows, or she could see if Blake was awake. He had a way of making her feel safe. The thought of his arms around her brought her a measure of comfort. He was a sound sleeper, but with the racket going on outside, surely he’d be awake.

She got up and crept down the hallway to his door, left invitingly ajar. With the lightning outside, she easily made out his sleeping form lying on his left side and tiptoed around to the empty side. “Blake?” she whispered.

Lightning lit up his face with a blue-white glow. His eyes were darting back and forth beneath his closed lids. REM sleep. She didn’t want to disturb him while he was in the deepest part of his sleep cycle, but she also didn’t want to return to her room.

She pulled back the covers and slipped into bed with him, lying on her left side. The sheets were cool, and she shifted toward him until she was close enough to feel the heat of his body but not flush up against him. There. Finally in his warm, strong presence, her trembling subsided in spite of the storm raging outside, and she let out a deep breath, relaxing into the comfort and safety of Blake’s bed. If she woke up before he did, she could sneak back to her room and he would be none the wiser.

Shutting her eyes, she tried to let sleep take her, but being in bed with him, breathing in his scent, feeling his body heat was far too distracting. She ached for his touch and found it difficult to turn off her wicked thoughts. She pressed her thighs together, trying to squelch the building lust. He was off-limits now. Forbidden. Waking him with kisses was against the rules, but that didn’t stop her from imagining it.

His breathing quieted, and he shifted behind her, not to turn over but to snuggle closer. One arm flopped across her waist, holding her against him. He had a nighttime erection, which pressed right into the crack of her butt, fanning the heat of her desire into a roaring blaze. She wanted him so badly—more than she’d ever wanted anyone in her life. She lay very still, hoping he wouldn’t wake up. If he found her there and began kissing her, making love to her, she wouldn’t be able to resist him. Her mind conjured images of their past lovemaking, of him taking her from behind while his hand stimulated her from the front.
No, stop it. Stop it.
To her relief and dismay, his breathing deepened again.

Now she was trapped. She couldn’t wake him up to satisfy her need and she couldn’t get out of bed without disturbing him.
What kind of idiot gets herself into these messes?

It was going to be a long night.

The first thing to enter Blake’s awareness was the familiar and subtly erotic scent of Andrea’s hair. At first, he thought he was dreaming, but it occurred to him that he was rarely aware he was dreaming during a dream. Then he realized it really was her warm body snuggled against his, spooning with him, that his morning wood had found its favorite spot between her legs, and his arm was draped over her possessively. He opened his eyes and found the back of her blond head inches away, a few strands of her hair tickling his face. He smiled, wondering when she’d snuck into his room and knowing she would be unable to resist him, just as he couldn’t resist her.

It wasn’t just their sexual attraction and compatibility that turned his thoughts but their entire chemistry. He loved her sweetness, her humor, her genuine concern for people—everything about her, even when she was scolding him for his mistakes. Especially when she was scolding him.

As a rich guy, he found most women so eager to snag him that they would put up with his occasional blunders without complaint, never fighting back, never demanding better from him. Andrea was different. She was sincere and forthright yet feminine and vulnerable. This was the woman he’d been waiting for. The problem was finding a way to be with her while keeping his mom safe from Harold Gentry’s brutal lust for revenge.

Andrea stirred. He lay still, wanting to see how she would play this. She’d come to him voluntarily, after all. The move was hers to make.

She peeled back the covers, picked up his wrist, and started to gently move his arm off her.

He tightened his hold around her waist and pulled her close. “Not so fast, Sneaky McGee.”

“I have to pee,” she said.

“All right, but come right back.” He reluctantly let her go and watched her shuffle toward the bathroom. The sound of running water masked her business, and after it turned off, he waited for her to return to bed, but instead, she tiptoed to the door. “Where do you think you’re going?”

She startled and stopped in her tracks, her hand reaching for the knob. “Um, back to my room.”

“No, you aren’t. You don’t get to sneak into my bed in the middle of the night without explaining yourself.”

“There was a storm. I needed comfort, that’s all.”

“That’s all? So you got everything you wanted?”

Even in the dim glow of the predawn sky, he saw her eyes shift and her tongue sweep across her lips. “Mostly.”

He held his hand out to her. “Come back to bed, babe. I need comfort now.”

She took a few uneasy steps toward him and paused. “Blake, we can’t.”

“I know. Trust me. I won’t touch you in a sexual way. Come lie down with me.”

“Promise?” she asked as she returned to the bed.

“Promise.” He held the covers up for her, and she climbed into bed and snuggled beneath them. “Now tell me what you didn’t get.”

“What?” She turned on her side to face him, tucking her hair beneath her head.

“You said you mostly got what you came for. What do you still need?”

Her lips parted, and he longed to kiss them. “I can’t have what I need,” she said, her voice low.

“What would that be?” he asked. “Tell me.”

“You,” she whispered. Her expression looked guilty, as if she were ashamed to want him.

“Mmm. I was hoping you’d say that.” He drew the covers back off her body, revealing her silky nightgown, riding halfway up her bare thighs.

“You promised,” she said.

“I’m not touching you.” He used his arm as a wedge to prop his head up and gazed at her lovely figure. The gown’s lacy neckline was low enough to reveal her gravity-induced cleavage. His fingers twitched, anxious to touch them, but he put his right hand behind his back to keep it in line. “That doesn’t mean you can’t do it.”

Her eyes widened, and she sucked in her breath. “Blake.”

“If you were alone in your bed right now, would you be touching yourself?”

“Yes,” she whispered, a timid smile playing on her lips.

“Then don’t let me stop you.”

She stared at him incredulously for a moment and opened her mouth to speak but shut it again. “I can’t. That’s... private.”

He grinned, pleased she couldn’t find an argument for why it was against the rules. “After all we’ve shared, nothing is too private. We’ve been more intimate than I’ve ever been with anyone.”

She hesitated, chewing her bottom lip for a moment, and then turned onto her back but kept her face turned toward him. “At least let me look at you while I do it, then.”

Blake threw the covers to the foot of the bed and then kicked them onto the floor. He shifted a few inches farther away from her and took his hard dick in his hand, pointing it at her. “Is this what you wanted to see?”

She looked down at his erection. “Yes.” Her hands roamed over her body, slowly, shyly, the left one to her right breast, the other to her thigh. Her fingers toyed with her nipple, stiffening it under the slinky fabric of her nightie, while her gaze caressed his eyes, his mouth, and down his naked body. “This is weird.”

“Not weird. Sexy.” He slowly stroked himself while he watched her, glad she wasn’t too timid to play along. Watching her touch herself was so hot, especially knowing she was watching and thinking of him while she did it. Blake was stiff as hell now, practically drooling with anticipation. He wanted a better look at what she was doing to herself, and so he sat up, got to his knees, and shuffled into place between her ankles at the foot of the bed.

“What—”

“Shhh. I’m not going to touch you,” he whispered. That didn’t mean they couldn’t touch themselves.

And they did.

By the time Blake cleaned himself up and returned to bed, she’d covered herself back up and turned onto her side to face him, still smiling. “You are so hot,” he said, climbing under the covers with her.

“You are too. We’re hot together.”

To hell with the rules. He put his arms around her and pulled her to him, nose to nose. “Come here, beautiful.”

“Blake—”

“Calm down. I’m just hugging you. Friends hug, remember?”

“What we did was probably wrong, you know.”

“No way. I’m not apologizing for that. We didn’t have sex.”

She smiled dimly, her cheeks pink. “Yes, we did. We had solo sex together.”

He frowned at her. “Are you saying you won’t be up for a repeat tonight?”

“I’m staying in my own bed tonight, storm or not, but you can think of me, and I’ll think of you.”

He pulled her closer and sighed. “Somehow, I don’t think it’ll be quite the same.”

“My point exactly.”

There had to be a way around this, but until the divorce was final, Blake couldn’t imagine how. Being with the woman he loved shouldn’t depend on the whim of his wife.