Just Toying Around… Read online

  He plunged again and again. Deeper, harder, faster and faster until he finally led her to the edge and sent her flying over the precipice. For one fleeting instant, Meg’s body forgot to breathe. Everything inside her stilled in awe of the cataclysmic eruption of magnificent release.

  Nick shuddered violently atop her, another thick hot rush of sensation. Breathing hard, he collapsed against her, but quickly rolled them to where the bulk of his weight landed on the mattress. He snuggled her against him.

  Meg’s own breath came in erratic little puffs. She blinked, still basking in the glow of her first real orgasm with a man inside her. It had been a full body experience, from the very hair on her scalp down to the tips of her toes. Included every single cell that made up her body. Utterly incredible. Indescribably hedonistic. Whoever had coined the phrase “better than sex” had obviously never had the kind of orgasm Nick had just given her.

  In fact, Meg thought with a small smile, she liked it so much she wanted another one. She wanted as many as she could get before her week as Desiree was up.

  12

  RON HAD BEEN RIGHT. Though it didn’t matter because he’d never use the information against her as planned, Ron had been right. And, to add insult to injury, he’d forsaken his honor in order to slake his lust.

  She might as well have been a virgin for all the experience he now knew she had.

  Dread settled like a dead weight in the pit of Nick’s gut, preventing him from enjoying the aftermath of the bar-none, hands down, unequivocal best sex of his life.

  The realization had slammed into him the second he’d thrust inside her. She’d been so tight, so snug around him that it had taken a moment of quiet reflection to realize that she hadn’t been a virgin…not completely anyway. But close enough for Nick to wish he hadn’t thrust into her like a battering ram.

  But he hadn’t been able to hold back any longer, had forced her to beg him. Punishment for making him feel out of control, inside out and all the other conflicting emotions she’d stirred in sentimental territory best left uncharted.

  He’d plunged into her, confident despite niggling doubts to the contrary, that she was a seasoned lover.

  God knows she’d played the part of a veteran between the sheets. She’d gotten him off with her toes, had talked dirty to him, for pity’s sake. Shocked him. She’d been a walking contradiction, a femme fatale one minute, the vulnerable innocent the next. Still, he’d had doubts, and if he hadn’t been so blinded by lust, so gratified by her eagerness to be with him, he might have heeded those mental warnings more closely.

  His cheeks puffed as he exhaled mightily. He really should have known, Nick berated himself now. She’d dropped little clues along the way. Nick mentally ticked them off. Not bringing a lover with her to the trade show. No record of said lover in her journal. And that little comment she’d made in his lap about it being better than she ever dreamed.

  The evidence had been before him the entire time, but he’d been so blinded by lust, he hadn’t been able to see past his pecker. So determined for her to be the opposite of what Ron thought that he’d deluded himself into thinking she was everything she claimed to be.

  Other than Desiree Moon, though, what exactly had she ever claimed to be? To him, anyway? Just herself, Nick knew. Just a pastry chef/sex-toy critic.

  True, she might be misrepresenting herself to her boss, to the owners and patrons of the adult-toy industry—but she’d never misrepresented herself to him. Not once.

  And so what if she’d said Ron’s products sucked? They did. Would Ron’s products have sucked if she’d had a real critique partner helping her review them? Nick snorted, recalling the horrible-tasting panties and icky lubricating gel. Most definitely.

  And wouldn’t Ron’s company go bust anyway? It would if the rest of his products were as bad as the ones Desiree had shown Nick.

  Fact of the matter was, she wasn’t hurting anyone, least of all his brother. As he’d predicted, Ron had made her his scapegoat. Desiree shouldn’t have to pay for Ron’s crappy product line with her side job. Nick had seen her journal, knew how she prided herself on organization, attention to detail. She might be fabricating a little here, fudging a little there, but she did a good job. Nick couldn’t deny that.

  He swore silently. There had to be some way out of this. Had to be some way to make everything right. To make everyone happy. To assuage the perpetual guilt he felt for having the privilege of his father’s love. To keep his mother’s retirement safe. To help Ron without giving him another handout. Nick tunneled his fingers through his hair. He just needed a little bit more time to—

  A telltale buzz commenced from the bathroom where Desiree had gone to freshen up, fracturing Nick’s turbulent thoughts.

  He lay there, slack-jawed, stunned beyond reason. His mind blanked, then raced. His head jerked in the direction from the bathroom, landed on the meager slice of light pushing through the partially open door. She’d just left the damned bed! Just a few minutes ago, the force of her orgasm had milked him dry. How could she possibly require…servicing so soon? How could she leave his bed and take up one of those damned impersonal toys?

  Insulted, annoyed, outraged and a couple of other disturbing sentiments he didn’t care to name jolted through him. His jaw ached from clenching it so hard.

  Nick lay there, tried to will the sound away—the image away—and failed miserably. Dammit, he’d suffered enough indignity tonight at her expense—that leering jackass she called her boss surfaced in his mind. He shouldn’t have to suffer this as well. He shouldn’t have to listen to her masturbate within moments of leaving his bed.

  It was outside of enough.

  He had the equipment she needed, and, if he hadn’t done it to her satisfaction—though after that off-the-sheets orgasm, he couldn’t imagine that he’d failed—he’d gladly give her a repeat performance until he purged her seemingly perpetual need for release from her gorgeous little body. All she had to do was tell him. She’d certainly been vocal about what she wanted up until this point. Nick refused to let some plastic dong with batteries outdo him in bed. It simply wasn’t acceptable.

  Dragging the sheet with him, Nick bounded from the bed, stalked to the bathroom and, after a moment’s hesitation, gently nudged the door open. His gentle nudge sent the door banging against the wall. She jumped and her surprised reflection stared at him from the mirror.

  She smiled around her toothbrush, surreptitiously spit and rinsed her mouth.

  Her electric toothbrush.

  Nick blinked repeatedly. Relief jimmied a strangled laugh from his throat. He rubbed a hand over his suddenly flushed neck. All those times he’d heard that low buzzing hum, she’d been brushing her teeth—not playing the leading role in a masturbation musical like he’d assumed. He’d tortured himself needlessly. Took matters into his own hands to the tune of her electric toothbrush—needlessly. Humiliation burned his cheeks.

  “Sorry,” she said, giving him a perplexed look. “Was I taking too long?”

  “Uh, no. Just wanted to make sure you were all right.” Of course, he could have called out from the bedroom instead of bursting into her bathroom like a zealous rookie on his first drug bust. Geez. He was pathetic. He’d been a complete and total wreck since he started this damned farce. He hadn’t been himself at all.

  She shrugged self-consciously, gestured with her toothbrush. “My dad’s a dentist. I have to practice good oral hygiene. It’s a rule.”

  “Oh.” Inane, he knew, but the best he could do at present. She still looked delightfully rumpled. Her hair tumbled around her shoulders in wild disarray and a becoming rose bloomed on her cheeks. She’d slipped on a short, light-blue robe with daisies scattered all over it. The sash had been tied loosely, leaving a deep vee open down the front. Her breasts played hide-and-seek beneath the slinky fabric, giving him a glimpse of creamy swells and pale pink nipples. The hem of her robe hit her at midthigh, revealing legs that were tanned, toned and nicely shaped. Ni
ck caught a metallic flash at her feet, and noticed a sterling silver toe ring on her left foot.

  Just like that, he went hard.

  “I was thinking about taking a shower,” she told him, forcing his gaze from her sexy toe. Her lips curved knowingly. “Wanna join me?”

  It was as though she’d stepped from his fantasies. She might as well have said, “You’re the best lover I’ve ever had, you have the biggest rod I’ve ever seen and my sole desire in life is to blow you. Here’s your beer, and the remote.” At least, that’s what Little Nick heard.

  She shrugged out of the robe, let it pool around her feet. She bent low, turned on the tap and adjusted the spray.

  Damn, her ass was perfect. Nick swallowed tightly. He didn’t want to appear too easy. “Depends,” he said, as though he really had a choice. As though he wouldn’t mind skipping the shower altogether and taking her on the vanity.

  She smiled, recognizing the ploy. “On what?”

  “On whether or not I get to wash your back.”

  She slipped behind the shower curtain, and he watched her silhouette through the thin transparent hanging. “Sure. You can wash my back, so long as I can wash your front.” She arched languorously. “With my mouth.”

  To hell with being easy, Nick thought. He wanted her.

  MEG LOWERED THE VOLUME on the television so as not to wake Nick and settled more peacefully beside him. The room was pitch-black, save for the dancing shadows and bluish light emanating from the TV. An empty pizza box and soda cans littered the small table in the corner of the room and the faint scent of pepperoni, shampoo and sex mingled in the air.

  It had always been her understanding that men generally didn’t care to linger in a woman’s bed after sex, so she’d been pleased when Nick had commandeered an extra pillow from his room, then stretched himself out on her side of the bed. They’d talked for a while, then he’d drifted off to sleep.

  Meg gazed at him now and an unfamiliar longing rose in her breast. A tremulous smile drifted around her lips and she resisted the urge to brush his tousled hair back from his forehead. To skim the pad of her thumb over his lips.

  Nick had rolled over on his side, twisting the sheet around his magnificent body. One arm rested beneath his pillow and the other along his thigh. His face, so relaxed in sleep, was still the same combination of planes and angles, yet different somehow. Not boyish—there was nothing boyish about the way this man looked—but still…different. Not relaxed, Meg decided. Everyone relaxed when they slept. Nick seemed…less guarded.

  He’d been particularly on guard after their shower. His phone had rung a couple of times, but he hadn’t answered it. When she’d looked at him questioningly, he’d shrugged and said they’d leave a message.

  Nick had told her that he’d want her name at the end of this week, but he hadn’t asked for it. At least, not yet. And if he did, what would she say? Would she give it to him? Or would she keep to her one-week-as-Desiree rule and simply chalk this up as the best sexual experience of her life and leave it at that? Preserve this memory unblemished. When she’d made the decision to be Desiree Moon for the week, to leave her inhibitions behind, she’d never considered that she’d be leaving Nick behind when the week was over. She did now, and the thought saddened her more than she cared to admit. Her feelings tumbled and jumbled, banged around her heart like a pinball.

  Meg had just never counted on liking him. Genuinely liking him. She’d been attracted to him, wanted him desperately. But she hadn’t initially considered anything beyond the physical. But then, he’d gone and made her laugh, made her crave his company, made her long to be with him.

  That’s why women were less eager to engage in no-strings-attached affairs, Meg realized. Most of them couldn’t leave it at great sex, and regrettably she appeared to be one of them. There were always emotional loose ends left to be tied up.

  More time spent with him would undoubtedly lead to additional heartache when their relationship ended, but it was a sacrifice Meg planned to make. She planned to spend every second she could with him—in and out of bed—until Friday. Regrettably, this would be her only no-strings stint and she had every intention of milking it for all it was worth.

  Meg’s thoughts bounced around, settling on a more pleasant topic.

  She’d had her first good sexual encounter with a man.

  The last and only time she’d been tipsy and slightly horny. He’d been attractive and, fool that she was, she’d fancied herself in love. Bad motivation, worse circumstances.

  She’d squandered her virginity with a premature ejaculator who had possessed all the finesse of a drunken goat. A big-mouthed, drunken goat who’d bragged about the unmemorable encounter and ultimately cost her the scholarship she’d counted on to finish her education. It was a mistake that still haunted her, that she still regretted. She’d just never repeated the mistake. That experience had taught her to be selective to the point of paranoia.

  But it had paid off.

  She’d gotten Nick.

  The years of celibacy had been worth it, since they’d led her to him. Meg still marveled at their joining. The feel of him, the whole hardened length of him, had been the most indescribably perfect sensation she could ever hope to have.

  She’d felt full, a connection in excess of the physical.

  Every particle in her being sang with the junction of their bodies. It was as though his presence had tripped the last tumbler of a lock into place, as though everything she’d done or ever hoped to do had been tied into that moment.

  Nick had stilled above her when they first came together and an unreadable expression had crossed his face. He’d stared wonderingly at her for interminable moments and Meg suspected she hadn’t been the only one who’d experienced the magic of that moment. Delight settled over her like a comfortable blanket. Clearly Nick had felt it, too.

  Meg smiled when she considered that she hadn’t allowed either one of them to linger in that special moment for long—she’d been too impatient, too ready for him to pause for sentimentality.

  She still couldn’t believe how forward she’d been, how she’d spoken to him. She wished she could conjure a blush—felt like she should—but the self-consciousness required to pull it off simply wasn’t there. Quite frankly, she liked to shock him, liked the way his eyes widened, darkened, and finally capitulated when she said those naughty things to him. It gave her a rush, and obviously him, too, or he wouldn’t respond to her shocking behavior as he did.

  Another smile rolled around Meg’s lips. Nick was a bad boy waiting to happen—he just didn’t know it yet. He still had that control issue she needed to take care of.

  Meg understood. She had control issues as well. Case in point, the handcuffs. The necessary trust to put that much faith in another person was something that Meg didn’t know if she’d ever possess. But for the first time she realized that she might be able to get to that place, to surrender that control.

  Still, her hang-ups aside, she still didn’t like for Nick’s issues to apply to her and how they made love. He’d seemed to set personal parameters around everything in his life, and he needed to learn that some things weren’t meant to be cordoned off and compartmentalized. Some things required a go-with-the-flow attitude and everything that was questionable didn’t necessarily translate to “bad.”

  For instance, the adult toys. She could tell from the outraged, slightly arrogant look on his face that he didn’t care for them. Granted, there were some that were definitely out of the realm of her understanding. But not all of them. She’d shown him that with the Shiver Cream, but Meg thought he’d probably require several more lessons to completely eradicate that narrow-minded mentality.

  Her gaze landed on him once more. Longing kindled again. She’d gladly accept the challenge.

  Nick opened his eyes, startling her. “I dozed off,” he said, his voice rough with sleep.

  She grinned. Gave in to the urge and trailed her fingers across his cheek. “You did.�
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  “Sorry,” he mumbled.

  “Don’t be.” She yawned. “I’m tired, too.”

  Nick snaked an arm around her middle and snuggled her up against him. Contentment swelled inside her, resulting in a small satisfied sigh. “What are your plans for tomorrow?” he asked.

  “I’m supposed to do another question-and-answer session in the afternoon.”

  He nuzzled her neck. “Blow it off.”

  She laughed. “Why?”

  “Because I want to be with you. Let’s go somewhere. Do something. What do you say?”

  Oh, it was tempting. They could spend the day together, just like a real couple. She’d already tentatively formed special plans for tomorrow night. She wanted to make their last day and night together as memorable as it could possibly be. By noon Friday, this would all be over. Her stint as the uninhibited Desiree Moon would be finished.

  “Come on,” he prodded at her prolonged hesitation. “I’ll take you wherever you want to go.”

  Good, Meg thought. Take me home with you. She mentally gasped at the thought. Dammit, she couldn’t start thinking this way—in terms of forever—it would ruin everything. She cleared her throat. “Don’t you have anything you’re supposed to do? Is your business in town finished?”

  He hesitated only a beat, but she felt it. “No, I’m done,” he said. “Tomorrow’s mine. Share it with me,” he urged huskily.

  “Okay. I’ll call Ann in the morning and tell her that I can’t do that other session.” Satisfied with her decision, she relaxed further against him. “It hadn’t been planned in the beginning, anyway, so it shouldn’t be a problem. Ron Capshaw requested I do another one,” she said drolly. “I can’t imagine why, though. Remember? He’s the one who heckled me during the first one.”

  The smooth rise and fall of Nick’s chest against her back momentarily stilled. “Yeah. I remember.”