Forty Candles (4 page)

***

Sexual frustration.

All her dirty thoughts about Jack—her ex, for goodness sake—could be attributed to sexual frustration and nothing more. She wasn’t actually considering starting something with him—she knew better. Chloe toweled off and gazed at her body in the full length mirror, considering the curves of her ivory flesh with a clinical eye. She still had it.

Drying her hair then flat ironing it, she planned. None of her feelings for Jack were real, all of them being caused by a lack of sexual fulfillment. All she needed to do was catch up with one of the guys who kept asking her out—because she did still have it, damn it—have some nice meaningless, mind-boggling sex and it would clear her head.

Squirting on the most expensive of her scents, she slipped into a silky confection intended to make her breasts look bigger, perkier, and like the perfect bedtime snack. Shaved, scented, lotioned, and primed, she’d even refreshed her manicure on the way home from work.

Glancing in the mirror, she smiled at her reflection, pleased at the seductive image grinning back at her.

Look out, men of Ashtabula County. Mama wants laid.

Tugging on a low cut white tee shirt, tight enough to emphasize the breasts on display in the lingerie it hid, she then shimmied into a short denim skirt. Slipping on ballet flats, she deemed herself prepared for a mission of sex and texted one of the guys who’d been asking her out before she went out to face Jack.

Jim was an accountant, all nerdy cuteness…he could talk nerdy to her. It’d be hot and, hopefully, he would do nasty things to her on his desk, clear her head, then she could bop over to Jack’s, tension abated, and check on Fluffy. Everything would fall back into place as it should be.

Since Jim didn’t answer her text, she dialed into his office, humming to herself while she waited to ring through. Nothing put a girl in a better mood than the idea of hot sex with a nice, non-commitment obsessed man in a suit.

“He’s not here.”

“What do you mean, he’s not here?”

Speaking slowly, the secretary repeated, “He’s not here.”

“He just texted me a half an hour ago that he was at work still.”

The secretary sighed, sounding put off by her call. “Said something about a meeting and left. I’m not his babysitter.”

What a waste of the good perfume. I can’t believe I shaved my legs for this.

Fighting disappointment, Chloe headed over to Jack’s. Apparently, meaningless sex wasn’t in the cards. “I’ll just check on the stupid dog, go home, find my battery operated buddy and take care of business. I’m a big girl. I don’t need a man to find my satisfaction and if it is just an orgasm my body is craving, I can give it ten.” Sighing, she punched the steering wheel as she put the car in park. “And now I’m talking to myself. I’m going crazy from repression.”

Stomping her way to his front porch, she sucked in a surprised breath to find his door leaning open, a gracious invite to flies or wasps.

Rather than knocking, she called inside, “Jack?”

No answer.

Holding the handle so the door didn’t swing further open, she rapped her knuckles on it while calling again, “Jack, are you here?”

Again, silence met her yell. Glancing back, she saw his truck parked next to his patrol car in the wide driveway and snorted. He had to be around somewhere.

Wandering to the backyard, the crisp smell of cut hay and horses found her before the sound of the horses themselves. Softer than the sound of the horses, a dog barked.

He had the dog out with the horses?
Her feet beat against the uneven ground of the field, crossing it at a jog before she really considered it. “Jack?”

“Chloe?” Breathless, red in the face and shirtless—the sight of him made her come to an abrupt halt as all thoughts sucked right out of her brain and shifted straight to her crotch.

Corded muscles running down tattooed arms, slicked with sweat and tan, as the hot summer sun beat down on him. Abs straight out of a commercial for a gym, topped by pecs dotted by dark nipples just dusted with the faintest bit of dark hair, instantly made her fingers curl in desire to trace her hands across his body. Broad shoulders big enough for a woman to grab, yank herself up so she could wrap her legs around those narrow, denim clad hips, tip that cowboy hat back and kiss him till his eyes glazed with need.

Since every single bit of that train of thought flashed crisper because of memories of doing exactly what she imagined, the wash of passion that punched her in the stomach had far more impact. “Uh—”

“I’ve never been so happy to see anyone, Red, as I am to see you right now.”

Images of him striding over, all bow-legged and masculine, picking her up and having his way with her flooded her mind, adding to the already moist heat gathering in her soaked panties. “Glerg.”

“Stark’s in the pasture. He’s not listening worth a damn and has the horses spooked.”

Did he just say take off your shirt, it’s hot out here? I’m pretty sure he said take off your shirt, Chloe.
Standing, frozen in lust, she simply stared as he continued to close the distance between them.

“I probably shouldn’t have let him run, but we were out fishing this morning. Turns out he can swim pretty well and I figured he could come out while I fed the horses. Well, that…Chloe, are you okay?”

Those hips.
Her entire focus ground down to the way they swiveled when he walked, reminding her in a visceral way of how he looked, push up style above her, lips curled in an animalistic way, while he drove into her body. Catching her lip between her teeth, she bit down before slowly releasing it.
Oh, hell yes. Save a horse, ride a cowboy.

“Red, I can’t catch my dog.”

“Yeah, I can help with that.” Forcing herself to focus, she whistled—one sharp sound with two fingers. Like a ball of black lightning, Fluffy bounded out of the shifting herd of horseflesh, racing towards her.

“Shit. That was all I had to do? But I can’t whistle.”

Hysterical laughter bubbled up in her throat and she choked it off with a fist to her mouth.

“Chloe?”

“Yeah, Jack?”

“You’re looking at me funny this evening.”

Fluffy landed on the ground in front of her, flopping to present his belly in an obedient way. Considering she felt like doing the same thing to Jack, she cleared her throat. “I’m kinda hot.”
Understatement.
“You have anything to drink?”

“Sure. C’mon up to the house. I’ve been chasing this idiot around for a while and could use some tea myself.”

Following him, so she could watch his back and ass move, as the dog bounded alongside, Chloe rebuked herself for ogling him.

She didn’t stop, but she told herself it was wrong while she did it. If she could just forget the past they shared, she’d be fine. If she could just forget the way his face twisted in primal need and yet how he’d manage to touch her with the gentlest hand and look at her like she was something special, she’d be fine.

Although the tea wouldn’t cool her off, maybe it would give her enough of a moment to collect herself so she could tell him about proper care of his animal and get the hell out of there before she jumped him.

No other woman, in all of Jack’s experience, had the ability to strip a man naked, make passionate love to him, and leave him wanting for more with just their eyes the way his Chloe did. Hot, sweaty and now hard as a rock, he reminded himself, for the hundredth time since she slammed to a screeching halt and began to molest him with her gaze, that there was a plan and it didn’t include scooping her up and dragging her to bed like a Neanderthal. Even if her body language screamed,
drag me to bed, now
.

Pouring two glasses of tea, he carefully kept the breakfast bar between them.
Distance.
He just needed distance. If he got too close, he would ignite.
Which was not part of the plan.

Taking the glass and chugging it like it contained something a bit stronger and more bracing than iced tea, Chloe drank like it was going to save her soul, eyes closed. Slamming the glass down on the bar, she kept her eyes shut for a moment.

Breathing out slowly, she finally peeked at him, green eyes still hotter than the surface of the sun. “Fuck.”

The one word was all the warning he got before she launched herself across the bar, caught the back of his neck and pressed that tempting mouth of hers to his.

Plan?

There was a plan.

He would remember it in a second.

As he dragged her body the rest of the way across the bar, the dog woofed in protest as one of the glasses—he wasn’t opening his eyes to see which one—crashed to the tile floor and shattered. And then her legs wrapped around his hips—what felt like about a mile of sleek, warm, sweet smelling leg—her ass on the bar cupped in one of his hands, as their mouths mated.

One of her hands dislodged his hat and he heard it hit the floor. Any cowboy worth his salt knew the hat and boots only come off for two things. Right now, her tongue down his throat, her nails digging into his back and her body arching into his, he knew sleep wasn’t why his hat came off.
There was a plan…

She ground her heat against the seam of his jeans, skirt riding up like a denim belt, targeting the ridge of his dick and making him groan in response. Nibbling his way across her jaw, he caught her earlobe and bit down, feeling her entire body move in a wave as she shivered in response. He needed flesh and he needed it now.

Dragging a hand up her side, she cooperated, allowing him to tug her tight little tee shirt over her head and drop it to the floor. Then his eyes were full of the most beautiful breasts he’d ever missed, offered up in something that would make any man thank God Victoria ever kept a single secret. Flushed, her creamy skin beckoned his fingers to delve into the demi cups, freeing the globes that he remembered so well.

“Oh, my pretty titties. I’ve missed you.” Bending, he greeted each of them with his lips, suckling at the pebbled nipples that hardened in his mouth like the most decadent of candies. Her spine arched and she made the little sound in the back of her throat that always got his cock jumping in his pants.

Her fingers, not still while his greedy mouth sampled her breasts, slid down the front of his jeans and cupped his already too hard dick, making him buck into her in response. “Chloe.”

She was everything he remembered, but riper, warmer, hotter. At his husky whisper of her name, her eyes flashed open, triumphant.

The plan.

Suddenly, he remembered the plan and the simple fact that sex with Chloe, at this point, would only make it easier for her to lump him into the commitment-free category. Need cramped his stomach while he forced himself to catch her wrists, stopping the motion that, right then, seemed more important than breathing. “What are you doing, Chloe?”

Licking her lips, which only made him want to duck closer and kiss her again, she shook her head instead of answering and moved to nibble at his shoulder.

“Chloe.” Gently, he caught her shoulders. “This is a bad idea.”

Putting distance between them, before he nixed the plan, bent her over, and took her on the kitchen island, he rubbed one hand down his chest then readjusted himself, refusing to look at her. If he looked at her, skirt hiked up and breasts bare, he was going to fuck her stupid and not give a shit about the plan. He heard her moving behind him and figured she was putting back her shirt on.

“What exactly is wrong about sex, Jack?”

Nothing was wrong with sex and with her, well, everything was right about it. Saying that was contrary to the plan so, instead, he said, “I’d like to have something more than a meaningless fuck. Chalk it up to old age, but I’m looking for something and I’m not sure you’re offering that particular something.”

“You’re going all moral on me? Since when was it a bad idea for two healthy adults with a hunger for one another to have some consensual sex?”

“I’ve always been moral, especially when it comes to you.” He spared a glance her direction, found her dressed but no less tempting, so instead focused on the glass mess.

He didn’t feel even a little guilty about wanting her, though, regardless of what he said. If he got his hands on Chloe in the process of winning her back, it wasn’t cheating. It was retrieving what was his.

“You weren’t very moral when you bent me backwards over—”

Turning, he clamped a hand over her smiling mouth. “That wasn’t immoral. That was fun. Maybe I want more than just fun? That doesn’t mean I’m feeling any shame...”

Removing his hand before she bit him, he saw she hadn’t lost the grin. “Dare you to tell your parents about it, then.”

“Red, you don’t want to dare me something that is going to embarrass you far more than it will me.”

Laughing, she seemed recovered from their bout of desperate passion, although he felt pretty sure he was in for a case of blue balls from hell if he didn’t jerk off in the near future. “Look, sorry. Lost control for a minute there.”

“No worries. What is a little tonsil hockey between friends? So…I made dinner.”

Laughing out loud, she bent to help him with the broken glass. “If I’m staying for dinner, put on a damn shirt.”

Jack worked to hide his grin.

The plan seemed to be blasting off better than expected if just the sight of him without a shirt made her dive across a bar at him.

***

“Jim, I really would like it if you came with me.” Yanking on white shorts over her bikini, Chloe spoke loudly so he could hear her on speakerphone. “We haven’t spent much time together lately.”

He’d been all about them getting together, practically begging her to date him and, now that she returned his texts and made time for him, he couldn’t find a spare moment to hang out with her. Sadly typical, but…He was the one who tried to pursue her, claiming their friendship could be so much more if she gave him a chance.

“Things are really crazy at work right now. You know how it goes, Chloe. Just go, enjoy yourself, and we’ll get together later tonight.”