L.A. Caveman (20 page)

Then with a precise controlled
movement he released her and stepped out of the Jeep. Gallantly
rounding the back of the vehicle, he opened her door, bowed
slightly and offered his hand to Stanna for her to
alight.

Stanna's lips still tingled from his
kisses, and her smile felt as if it would never go away. First he
was hauling her against him like some kind of rough caveman, and
now his broad shoulders were bent to her service.

She could get used to this.

In fact, she was on the verge of
asking him to carry her over the threshold when she realized the
connotation that held: marriage. The traditional male
lust-spoiler.

She felt a strange pang of sadness.
She wanted this man, yes. But on a sharp intake of breath, she
realized she was falling ever more deeply in love with
him.

His soft hair gleamed reddish-gold in
the afternoon's hazy sunlight. His outstretched hand was steady and
still. Time seemed to slow for an endless moment. She felt the
gentle breeze caressing her with the scent of the Pacific. Her
heart warmed with something much stronger than affection; her
awareness of the man before her included all she knew of him. The
visual beauty of him as well as his fierce integrity, cutting wit,
and disarming gentleness.

Immediately she resolved to accomplish
more than just seducing the man.

She would – somehow – get him to fall
in love with her.

He looked up and their eyes met. She
knew she offered up all the emotion she was feeling in her gaze,
and felt a jolt of connection when he blinked, his reaction
re-drawing his face into more serious lines. His hand lowered to
her thigh. She lifted her own hand and gently, delicately touched
his hair. Stroked. All the while telling him with her eyes what she
felt.

He closed his eyes. When he opened
them, she saw a level of intensity reflected in their aqua depths
that impacted like a hammer blow to her heart. So the man had
strong feelings of his own. Now all she had to do was bring them
out. All the way out.

She smiled, and his eyes kindled with
an immediate response.

Oh man, she thought, feeling weak.
We're so compatible, so in synch that we practically read each
other's minds. Which thought, of course, reminded her of the last
time they communicated non-verbally. That rainy mountain evening of
fire and body language. Her smile widened.

This time he didn't ask her what she
was thinking. He knew.

He reached in and scooped her out,
setting her lightly on her feet. One strong arm stayed around her
as he shut the Jeep's door. His radiating body heat and heady
masculine scent made her narrow her eyes in pleasure. It felt so
good, so absolutely right to be within his encompassing arms. He
seemed to be having a hard time stepping away from her as
well.

She took a deep breath. Okay, she
coached herself. Time to get seducing.

She pulled away from him slightly,
stroking his forearm and hand as she turned a full-wattage "I'm
hungry for you" smile on him. It wasn't an act. Her level, intense
gaze didn't have to be faked. She felt the heat rising in her just
looking at him, and she squeezed his hand, gently leading him to
the door of his home.

He followed closely, caressing her
back with strong fingers then squeezing her hand in response. He
felt awkward in the role of follower, but nonetheless allowed her
to tug him along the step-stone walkway bordered by bushy bright
flowers that always overgrew and brushed against him. They smelled
nice, especially with the crisp ocean breeze, and he didn't mind
their untamed overgrowth. At the moment all was just about perfect
with the world.

He couldn't believe his amazing
fortune. This, right here, was every guy's dream come true: a sexy
woman taking the lead of getting him into bed. And not just any
woman. Stanna. Amazing. For all of his experience -- and he'd had a
lot, if he did say so himself -- he'd never felt quite so
exhilarated and happy.

She turned, closing the distance to
him. She was tickling him. She was diving into his pants pockets!
He squirmed, not able to help his shocked whoosh of breath. But he
recovered quickly when she merely fished out his keys. Was she
laughing? He couldn't tell, she'd already turned to the door and
began to insert a key. Slowly. He could see her manicured nails,
not long but painted pink, on her slender fingers grasping the key.
The fingers held it delicately, rubbing it slightly. She pulled it
back out, holding it up in the light. Her small pink tongue
extended, touched the exact middle of her upper lip thoughtfully.
She selected a different key. When she turned, her bottom brushed
against his leg lightly.

Enough. He grabbed the keys. He jammed
in the correct one so quickly that it missed the keyhole and scored
the shiny brass plate.

"Uh-uh-uh," she reprimanded, taking
back the keys. She placed one palm against his chest and pushed him
away. With the other hand she deftly took back the keys, turning so
she brushed against him again. But this time she inserted the
correct key – albeit much too slowly, Jake thought, nearly growling
with impatience – and they were in. About time.

He was almost too overwhelmed by his
good luck and mounting frustration to notice much more than
Stanna's very enticing body. But the thought of that little moment
by the Jeep grew in his head. The way she'd stared into his eyes…
that was something else. He'd connected with her, beyond the
physical level. He could tell she’d felt it too. Those eyes of
hers! Her gorgeous gray, expressive eyes had told him she wanted
him, yes. But they'd revealed more than that.

She was falling in love with
him.

Maybe. Maybe not.

He allowed her to steer him around,
searching as she was for his bedroom.

He was uneasy, despite his raging
lust. That apprehensive, short-of-breath feeling he'd experienced
only once before in his life now had him in its grip once
again.

It scared the hell out of
him.

He wouldn't be made a fool again. He'd
learned his lesson, thank you very much. Even if he hadn't, Stanna
Seductress tugging him toward the bedroom was a living embodiment
of women manipulators. She'd lied not too long ago in the parking
garage. Supposedly it was to get him in the sack. For crying out
loud, was he that easy? That dumb?

She was a control freak, and no doubt
of it. He couldn't let her soft looks and softer touch blind him.
He knew what happened to men who trusted too much.

He hardened his damaged heart. He
would use her the way she said she needed him to, and she would
love every minute.

What if she really did
love him?

He squelched the thought. He would
pleasure her senseless. He'd make her cry out again and again. And
he'd get a nice piece of ass. That's all he wanted.

That settled, he was still surprised
and touched when she turned and told him, "Thank you for being such
a good sport. You have no idea how much this means to me." And she
kissed him, her soft lips touching his warmly, gently.

Groaning, he responded. Damn, but she
tasted sweet. The kiss deepened languorously, and the glow of
desire he'd felt since he saw her in that short skirt and silky
blouse began to grow, as slowly and lazily as the sweet kiss. He
wanted it to last. He wanted all of it to last. It was a rare
treat, being with her this way, and he'd savor it while he had it –
he didn't want to think about tomorrow. Tomorrow was reality.
Stanna's kiss today made him hope reality would stay away for a
while. He liked the fantasy a whole lot better.

He willed all his doubts away, the
better to feel her completely. He liked the silky feel of her blond
hair in his hands. He liked her intoxicating smell, of earth and
flowers and woman scent – an elusive fragrance that made him want
to search every square inch of her skin until he found the source
of it. He even liked her fiery temper, right now anyway, because
the thought of all her passion re-channeled into lovemaking
thrilled him in a way that made him think momentarily of souped-up
classic cars, high-maintenance beauties that paid it back in a
single powerful cruise up Pacific Coast Highway.

And, damn it, there was something
more. There was a new sensation in his heart, a longing made of
pain mixed with unbearable sweetness. It hadn’t been there before
Stanna. He didn't know where it came from, but he knew what it
was.

He crushed her body against him,
trying to drown the unwelcome emotion with the physical
intoxication of her tempting body. As a distraction, Stanna's
female curves did the trick. An annoying urge to just hold her that
way, reverently, despite the wave of pure lust that rolled over him
as her breasts pressed against his chest, made him curse
softly.

But his desire tipped the scales. He
silenced the turmoil in his mind by tilting her head up to his. He
brushed his lips against hers, the point of contact igniting small
blazes all over his body. Her soft warm breath acted like a caress
on the skin of his face. Tremblingly, her bent arms encircling his
waist moved against his sides as her hands stroked his back. He
could feel her desire for him, as if they were both plugged into
the same primal fount, drawing the intoxicating energy from it into
their bodies and giving it back to each other.

She pulled back from him, tilted her
head up. The feel of her arms snaking their retreat until her warm
hands gently grasped his sides sent shivers up and down the length
of his body, and he spared a thankful thought for all the sit-ups
he'd performed that allowed her to touch firm muscle. The wicked
smile that curved her lips accelerated the blood in his veins. Her
hands wandered over his sides, his stomach, his chest with wanton
avarice. To see her pleasure did more for him than all her electric
touches combined. Touching him was visibly getting her off. He
forced himself to inhale slowly and methodically to avoid yanking
up that short skirt and ending it all too quickly.

The woman was torturing
him.

The glint in her eyes was all the
warning he got. She reached up to caress his chest one more time,
then transferred her slender fingers to her own chest to begin
unbuttoning her silk blouse. As more and more of her creamy white
skin lay revealed, she also began to back up slowly, fetching up
against the bed. He watched, half-stunned but appreciative, as she
skillfully unzipped and stepped out of her skirt… still wearing her
high heels.

Jake found himself leaning against the
doorframe.

Her lips curved in a knowing
smile.

Her superb nude figure stood in front
of his bed, posed as provocatively as any model in a magazine
layout. In heels. Who would’ve thought she owned heels?

His woman was waiting for
him.

He stalked her. With slow, appraising
glances at what she'd revealed, he approached. She arrogantly shook
her silky mane back out of her face, sticking her chin in the air,
as imperious and defiant as a warrior princess and as sultry as a
succubus. Her smoldering gray eyes mirrored his desire. Suddenly,
she began stalking
him
.

As she circled, her heels put a
cruelly effective sway into her hips. "Jake, honey," she said
lazily, "why don't you take those clothes off?" She allowed one
fingernail to trail down his forearm as she brushed against him,
deliberately teasing.

"Why don't you take them off for me,"
he said, surprised at the husky demand of his voice. But when he
saw her face flush slightly, her moist lips parting to facilitate
her own breathing, he smiled a little arrogantly
himself.

Until her nude body stepped against
his still-clothed one in a brief, glorious moment of full contact.
That got rid of his smile, and every other thought in his head. His
cotton slacks and shirt were no barrier to feeling her warm curves.
He could feel her erect nipples with piercing clarity, and he knew
she felt him too when she quietly groaned and backed
away.

"That hurt me more than it did you,"
she said with a rueful smile.

"Then you shouldn't punish me with
your body," he said chidingly. “Reward me instead.” He was going to
punish hers with his instead, he decided. But before his hands made
it up to his shirt buttons, hers were there. The soft hypnotic
brush of her fingers kept his blood uncomfortably warm with their
delicate manipulation.

He gave himself up to the luxury of
it. In heels, she was only a few inches shorter than him. She
easily peeled his shirt over his shoulders and down, walking around
him and raking her fingernails over his back.

"Mmmm, what nice muscles you have,"
she said in a low purr. He couldn't help the tremor vibrating
through his flesh in response to her voice and her light caress. He
closed his eyes to savor the sensation. But when her hands reached
for his slacks, tugging at the front, his eyes popped open again.
Was she…? Yes, there was a new breeze against his exposed lower
abdomen, and lower still…

His manhood bulged, giving his white
briefs stretch marks. He wondered if she enjoyed the sight of his
body being revealed as much as he’d enjoyed hers. His appreciation
was evident as she lowered his pants. Kneeling before him, she
locked her eyes on his as she peeled his briefs down to join his
pants. Her gaze dropped. She blinked slowly. "Oh, my," she
said.