Everything But The Truth (11 page)

“Are you trying to get me drunk?”

“If that’s what it will take to get you into this bed.”

She flitted around the room, picking up the new clothes she’d bought, then took her time folding and stacking them into a neat pile.

“It’s still early,” she said, obviously stalling. “It’s not even eight o’clock. I’m not tired, and I thought we could watch some TV maybe.”

“Sure,” he said. “We can watch TV.”

Her face lit up.

“Later,” he said, watching her expression grow wary. By the time he finished making love to her, she’d be too tired to do anything at all. Not even something as effortless as watching TV.

Ignoring him, she picked up an empty shopping bag and stuffed it into the wastebasket in the corner of the room. “We don’t have to be in a rush, you know.”

“I’m not.” Another lie. “But I kinda thought
you’d
be a little more eager.” When she stared at him open-mouthed, he explained, “You said you needed the practice.”

“No,” she said, her eyes wide, her head jerking back and forth. “
You
said that.”

“Whatever.” He didn’t want to argue the point; he just wanted her in the damned bed. “Just get in bed, would you?”

“I want to take a shower and relax a little first.”

“Okay, fine.”

She gathered an armful of toiletries and fresh clothes and headed for the bathroom.

Suddenly, he had an idea. “I know,” he said, bubbling with enthusiasm, “after your shower, why you don’t you model your new underwear for me?”

The door slammed shut, and he heard the lock click into place. Only then did he allow himself to laugh.

In a way, he felt sorry for her. But, hey, she’d brought this on herself; pretending to be something she wasn’t. Now she had two choices; she could tell him the truth, or continue the charade. Either way, he was going to have her. And soon.

Secretly, he hoped she continued the charade. It was fun watching her squirm, and it would be even more so watching her squirm beneath him.

He wasn’t trying to be mean and wasn’t angry anymore that she’d lied to him. He wanted her to tell him the truth, but first he wanted to have a little fun with her. Just like she’d probably had fun at his expense. She probably thought he was a fool for believing her lies. She was probably in there laughing about it at this very moment.

Reeve took a huge breath, telling himself to be patient. “Ah, yes,” he said. “The sweet taste of revenge.”

Chapter Eleven

Peyton showered, shampooed her hair twice, and brushed her teeth three times, hoping by the time she finished in the bathroom Reeve would be fast asleep.

“Fat chance of that happening,” she whispered with a sigh.

After blow-drying her hair and styling it, she dressed in her new clothes, including the skimpy black underwear Reeve had chosen for her. It was obvious he hadn’t been concerned about her comfort when he picked out the darn things. Already, she had a wedgie.

Unable to stall any longer, she unlocked the door and peeked her head out.

Darn. He was still awake.

Skirting past the bed, she went to the chair in the corner of the room and sat down. “That shower felt refreshing,” she said. “You should probably take one.”

“I already did, remember?”

“Oh, that’s right.” Well, it had been worth a try. She’d thought that while he was in the shower, she could maybe hop into bed, with her clothes on, of course, and pretend to have fallen asleep before he came out. So much for that idea.

His eyes were all over her, making her insecurity bubble to the surface like hot lava. But at the same time he made her feel more like a woman than she’d ever felt before. She wanted him. There was no use pretending otherwise.

“Come here, Peyton,” he said with a crook of his finger and breaking into her thoughts.

She swallowed, then stood, but made no attempt to move toward him.
It was now or never; might as
well get it over with. “You know I’ve been wanting to tell you something.”

“Not now,” he said, his eyes dark and smoldering.

“But I—”

“Shut up, Peyton. And come here.”

She took two baby steps forward and stopped. “I really need to tell you something.” Forcing a smile, she said, “You’re going to laugh; it’s so crazy.”

His eyes narrowed. “No more talking. This isn’t the time for true confessions.”

Twisting her fingers together, she said, “Well, actually…”

He was off the bed in a shot, his mouth on hers so swiftly she hadn’t been able to stop him. And right now, she didn’t want to stop him.

Okay, so she’d tell him the truth right after the kiss.
Kisses,
she corrected herself when the first one led to a second and her body began to relax against his.

His hot tongue sent shivers of desire racing through her, and her knees weakened to a jelly-like state. She’d thought all that stuff she read in romance novels was exaggerated, until she’d met Reeve. But he was living proof that someone had done their kissing homework.

His arms tightened around her waist, his touch so warm, yet bracing; she felt feverish inside. She wanted more of him.

Pulling away slightly, he planted tiny kisses on the tip of her nose, chin and corners of her mouth. “Looks like I finally found a way to shut you up,” he whispered against her lips in a ragged breath.

“Mmmmm,” she breathed, slowly opening her eyes to meet his. “Shut me up again.”

This time she sought his mouth, burying her hands in his thick hair, but he soon took control. His lips were hard, searching, leaving her desperate for more. She was lost, and didn’t give a hoot about anything except the need to make love to him.

Breaking away from her mouth again, he took a step back and seemed to study her. “Take off your clothes,” he said.

She blinked. “What about the light?” she asked, nodding toward the swag lamp hanging above the bedside table. Surely, he didn’t expect her to strip naked with the lights on?

Grinning, he said, “The better to see you with, my dear.”

Wonder where he heard that line before?

She opened her mouth, but before she could say anything, he hushed her with a finger to her lips. “No more talking.”

Moving backward, he lowered himself to the edge of the bed and repeated his request. “Take off your clothes, Peyton. I want to see you naked.”

Her body turned to liquid fire, and suddenly, she wanted him to see her too.

A striptease. That’s what he wanted.
Jeez
. Thirty years old, and she’d never done a striptease. Well, it was about time she learned.

Her heart pounded beneath her breast as she undid the side snap of her shorts and slid the zipper down. With a slight shimmy of her hips, the shorts fell to the floor and pooled at her feet. Kicking them aside, she reached for her T-shirt, lifted it over her head, her hair bouncing back into place, and let the shirt fall from her fingers.

Meeting his eyes, she waited for his next command, knowing what it would be. The lacy bra didn’t leave much to the imagination; her nipples were pebble hard and straining to be free. The black scrap of silk that was supposed to be panties, well, it didn’t cover much of anything anyway. It wasn’t like she’d miss them, then again…

She fought the urge to wrap her arms around herself as his eyes moved appreciatively up and down her body. Then suddenly, she saw him smile, almost laugh, and she wondered what was so darn funny.
He
was the one who’d picked the godawful things. She’d tried to tell him they weren’t her style, but he wouldn’t listen.

“Sweetheart,” he said, his eyes darting to her feet. “You’re killing the image here. The sneakers have to go.”

They were so comfortable, she’d almost forgotten about the white leather shoes on her feet, but she supposed he had a point. They didn’t look very sexy with her underclothes.

Moving backward, her butt fell into the chair and she slipped the shoes off. There, she thought, standing again, that was better.

“Dance for me,” he said.

Oh, brother.
“Reeve, I—”

“Shhhh. Indulge me, Peyton. Please.”

His eyes raked boldly over her, then beamed with approval.

How can I say no?
Besides, she was quivering with need, the prolonged anticipation almost unbearable.

Her hips began to sway and undulate to an imaginary tune as she unclasped the front hook of the bra, the straps sliding over her shoulders and down her arms with her movements. The air around her seemed electrified as she swished and swayed about the room, her breasts bobbing with her every move. He didn’t look at all disappointed that her breasts were small, and right now she didn’t care either.

Feeling totally uninhibited now, she shook her arms free of the bra, catching it in one hand. Treating it like a slingshot, she stretched the elastic straps as far as she could and then let go. But when it should have shot across the room, the elastic snapped her in the nose, the hook catching on a strand of her hair. She shrieked, mostly from embarrassment than actual pain.

Yikes! Did I really do that?

Reeve grimaced, obviously feeling sorry for her. As if she hadn’t noticed, she untangled herself, shrugged, and tossed the bra at Reeve, hitting him square in the chin.

Smiling, he picked up the lacy bra from his lap and moved it between his fingers, then set it aside. “The panties too,” he said, his voice a hoarse whisper. “Toss me the panties.”

“No way, Jose.
” Teasing him, she flitted around the room some more, her eyes on his face the whole while. He was grinning; he liked being teased. Good, that meant he had a sense of humor, so when she finally told him the truth about—

“Ow!” she yelled, hopping on one foot. She grabbed the toe she’d stubbed on the chair leg and massaged it.

He was at her side instantly. “Come over here before you hurt yourself.”

“I
did
hurt myself.”

“I mean
seriously
hurt yourself.”

With his help, she limped toward the bed.

“Why don’t you undress
me
now?” he suggested, taking her hands and guiding them to his waist.

Peyton worked his T-shirt from the waistband of his jeans and, with his help, managed to pull it off. His skin was warm, and his chest was covered with dark hair, which spiraled to a V and disappeared beneath the waistband of his jeans. The rippling muscles in his shoulders and abdomen reminded her of his strength.

He wasn’t wearing shoes or socks, not even a belt, so that left only his jeans and underwear. Her hands found the snap at his waist, and with unsteady fingers, she finally popped it open with a loud clicking sound.

The zipper was trickier. His erection was so hard, so thick, she could barely budge the tab over the metal teeth, though somehow, she managed, the tinny sound echoing throughout the room. She didn’t know which was louder; the rasp of his zipper or the beating of her heart.

Her fingers lingered on his fly, loving the feel of him. She couldn’t tear her gaze from the profile. Breathing in his soapy, manly scent, she felt intoxicated. He was all man, his magnetism so potent, and she wanted him desperately.

“Peyton,” he whispered, lifting her chin and searching her eyes.

Her whole body tingled, hearing him say her name, and if he didn’t take her soon, she would surely die.

Not wanting to wait any longer, she jerked his jeans and briefs over his hips in one swift movement. His manhood, long, thick and hard, jutted out proudly in front of him. She couldn’t help but want to touch it, explore its wonder and beauty, but she made no move until Reeve took her hand in his and guided her fingers to close over him.

He was warm and velvety smooth, as she glided her hand up and down the length of him.

He inhaled sharply, and she wondered if she’d hurt him. When she looked up and saw his eyes, brimming with tenderness and passion, she realized he was enjoying her touch. Knowing that spurred her on. Feeling bold, she dropped to the bed, her face level with his hips and kissed the tip of him. Then she took him in her mouth.

This time he gasped sharply, but he still didn’t look hurt. Instead, he looked like a man who had died and gone to heaven. Bringing his hands to either side of her face, he taught her how to love him. Then, suddenly he stopped her. “No, no more,” he said in a strangled voice. “I don’t want to spoil it.”

Nodding, she stood and wrapped her arms around his middle, feeling his crisp chest hairs against her cheek and his erection pressing against her belly.

She noticed two boxes of condoms lying on the bed and started to laugh.

“Hey,” he said, pushing her away from him a fraction. “You’re going to give me a complex. What’s so funny?”

“I was just thinking about those glow in the dark condoms. Size small,” she added, her laughter turning to giggles. She could see now that he’d been right. They never would have fit.

Reeve chuckled and fell to the bed, bringing her with him. His jeans were wrapped around his ankles. “Are you ever going to lose those panties?”

She lay flat on her back, with him practically on top of her. Bringing a hand to his face, she pushed the hair from his brow. “I thought you liked them.”

“I do like them, but I’d like them better off.”

Bravely, she said, “Do I have to do everything?”

“No, Ms. Delaney.” He gave her a devilish smile. “I think I can do that.”