Slow Hands Page 6

  That’s not the only place you wanted his hand.

  No, it wasn’t. Blowing at a bubble on the puckered tip of her breast, she reached up and lightly brushed it away, acknowledging, at least here in the privacy of her bathroom, how much she wanted the hand on her body to be Jake’s. Her fingers were slender and soft, smooth and easy as they slid down, beneath the water, gliding across her wet skin. His were big and strong and would feel deliciously rough.

  “Especially here,” she whispered, closing her eyes as she touched herself even more intimately.

  In her mind, though, the touch was all his. And within moments, the possibilities playing in her mind had her thrusting against her own fingers, longing to be filled but taking the only form of pleasure she could manage at the moment. Maddy sighed, gasped, stroked the lips of her sex and the hard nub of flesh at the top of it, wondering how on earth she’d gone for so long without a man’s hands on her.

  “Not just any man’s,” she reminded herself. There was only one pair of hands she wanted. One mouth. One body. One person she visualized as she spiraled toward a climax.

  The tension built like a carefully tended fire before erupting in a soft wave of pleasure that had her shaking and gasping for breath, even as she whispered one word, over and over.

  His name.

  She hadn’t even floated back to earth when she was interrupted by a stark ringing sound. Jerking like a kid caught playing with herself under the covers, Maddy sat bolt upright, her hand flying instinctively to the receiver.

  She’d thought it incredibly silly to have a phone in the bathroom when she’d bought this condo last year. Looking back, however, she knew it was a good thing. She did enjoy her baths.

  “Hello?”

  “How did it go? Have you done him yet?”

  Tabby. She should have known. She’d lay money her father had pronounced it to the world when she’d left for a lunch date today. Sinking back down in the water, she replied, “It was lunch. Just lunch.”

  “But with him, right?”

  Tabby had already pumped her for all the details of the bachelor auction, calling her late the night it had taken place. Maddy had somehow managed to remain noncommittal, pretending it had gone as planned and she hadn’t been affected by her prize.

  “Maddy? Come on, spill. You did have lunch with that dark-haired, dark-eyed stud from the auction, didn’t you?”

  “How do you know what he looks like?”

  Her sister made a dismissive sound. “You probably described him really well on the phone.”

  Possible, though Maddy remembered trying to be extremely nondescriptive and brief, not wanting to ever think about Jake Wallace again after that night. But she supposed she could have waxed a little poetic about the guy, under Tabby’s relentless prodding.

  But something in her sister’s tone—a note of mischief, of amusement—made her suspect it wasn’t true. “I don’t think I described him that well.”

  Silence.

  And suddenly she figured it out. Gasping, she sat straight up in the tub again, nearly dropping the phone into the mountain of bubbles. “You were there!”

  “Don’t be ridiculous…”

  “You came to the auction. Despite all your claims about how you couldn’t be trusted and I had to be the one to do it, you went anyway.”

  “Well, I couldn’t very well send you up against a professional without making sure you were okay.”

  Against a professional…Mmm, she could think of worse places to be than up against that man’s rock-hard body. Especially after having experienced what just fantasizing about him could make her feel.

  “After all, you are my baby sister.”

  That was about one layer too thick. “Bullshit. I bet you were the one who told him how to find me, even after I intentionally left without giving him my name.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  Yeah, right.

  “And don’t try to claim you were looking out for me,” Maddy added. “You were dying of curiosity.”

  As usual, when busted, Tabitha didn’t even try to act repentant. “Well, it’s not every day all the rich bitches of this town go into heat over the same hound dog.”

  “He’s not a…” She quickly bit her tongue, not wanting to give Tabby any more ammunition.

  Too late. “Whoa-ho! You’re falling for him!”

  “Of course I’m not.”

  “But you want him.”

  “Of course I do.” Maddy wasn’t one to prevaricate, either.

  “So what’s the problem? Take him. You are in such desperate need of a good fuck you might as well be wearing a Please Take Me sign.”

  “Charming. Do you kiss your fiancé with that mouth?”

  “My future husband is very proper. He hasn’t yet learned of the miraculous things I can do with my mouth,” Tabby said with a catlike purr. “But seriously, you know you want to have sex with that guy.”

  “Any woman would,” she admitted.

  “Of course they would. He’s gorgeous. It really is a good thing I talked you into doing it. I wouldn’t have been able to walk out of the hotel without at least a little taste.”

  A little taste. Sounded yummy. Only, she knew it wouldn’t be nearly enough. That would be like offering a four-year-old a little taste of his own birthday cake.

  “And I really can’t afford one more broken engagement. I’ll get a reputation.”

  “You love your reputation. And so do all the men who want to be the one to make you settle down.”

  Tabby chuckled. “Maybe.” Then she lowered her voice, sounding serious—tender—for a change. “But I really don’t want to do anything to risk losing Brad. He…he calms me. Settles me. And I think he’s exactly what I need.”

  That explained a lot. Honestly, Maddy had wondered about Tabby’s latest choice in husband. Because, though he was extremely wealthy, Tabby’s soon-to-be-hubby was average looking and staid compared to the other men she’d been involved with.

  “You might be right,” Maddy murmured, smiling at the thought of her wild-child sibling truly settling down.

  The serious, tender sister quickly disappeared. “Maybe you can bring the stud-muffin to the wedding. Wouldn’t Deborah just choke on her chateaubriand?”

  Shaking her head, Maddy said, “I’m hanging up now.”

  “No, I want details.”

  “I’m in the tub.”

  “Alone?”

  “Of course alone.” She might have said that a bit too sharply.

  “Bet you wish you weren’t. Are you…keeping yourself company?”

  Was it possible for someone to hear a person blush? “Don’t be ridiculous.”

  Tabby’s throaty laugh said how much she believed that one. “Oooh, little sister’s having a date with her shower massage.”

  God. “I’m hanging up…”

  “Didn’t mean to interrupt. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

  “That would be utterly impossible.”

  “True. Remember to call me after your real date. You are going, aren’t you?”

  Hating to admit it, she said, “Tuesday afternoon.”

  “And hopefully it will last into Wednesday morning. Call me just as soon as he leaves. I want to know—”

  But before Tabby could finish, Maddy hung up the phone. Shaking her head, she sank back down into the cooling tub of water, now wanting the rapidly disappearing bubbles to wash away her humiliation.

  Her first time in ages doing something to take the edge off and she got busted. Absolutely the only thing that could have been worse would have been if Jake had been the one who’d called.

  Then she thought about it. Jake calling while she’d been touching herself. Whispers on the phone. Shared fantasies. Secret desires.

  And she reached for the handle, sending another stream of hot, steamy water into the tub.

  THE INTRINSIC INNER “gentleman” who had been pounded into Jake’s personality since he was
a kid rebelled at meeting Maddy for their date, rather than going to her place and knocking on her door. There had been a rule growing up in his house—dates, especially first dates, came inside and got the full family third degree, or nobody went anywhere. More than one of his sisters’ boyfriends had been introduced to their father while he was wearing his camouflage hunting gear and cleaning his shotgun.

  But not coming to the door was worse, as one of his younger sister Jenny’s boyfriends could attest. The first time he’d tried beeping from his car, their father had gone outside, reached in through the passenger side window and attached The Club to the pimple-faced teenager’s steering wheel.

  He wondered what his old man would make of Maddy Turner. He didn’t wonder for long. Hell, nobody in his family was judgmental. They’d see past the name and the family connection to the woman beneath.

  Just as Jake had.

  They judged a person by his or her character, not their bank balance. And a good character meant being courteous…bringing flowers for a date, knocking, holding doors.

  None of which he was allowed to do today.

  But when he saw Maddy leaning against a sporty little car in the commuter parking lot where they’d arranged to meet, he forgot about that concern. A smile slowly widened his lips as he studied her, head to toe, acknowledging that the woman looked even better in cute-knee length pants, a hot pink tank top and a ball cap with her ponytail hanging out the hole in the back than she had in her silky blue cocktail dress.

  “See?” she said as he parked beside her and got out of his pickup. “I do own something other than a suit or an evening dress.”

  Right. He’d wager the sleeveless top came from one of those high-end shops on the Magnificent Mile and had probably cost as much as Jake spent on clothes in a month. It was too deceptively simple to actually be cheap.

  Simple…but way sexy.

  “You look very cute.”

  Wrong thing to say. Her lips twisted the tiniest bit.

  “I mean, very pretty.”

  “I was going for girl-next-door.”

  “Sure. You look just like the girl who lives next door to Bill Gates.”

  “Are you going to harass me about being rich all day?”

  “Well, it’s better than being harassed for being poor, isn’t it?”

  “As if you’d know anything about that?”

  They hadn’t really talked much about his family, beyond him admitting it was big, so he didn’t take offense. “Believe me, I grew up strictly blue collar, middle class. My family never lived in the lap of luxury. More like the lap of just-enough-to-get-by.”

  She stared at him, her lips slightly pursed, as if assessing the truth of his words. “Which probably gave you the drive to succeed, to be financially stable on your own, no matter what you had to do to make it happen.”

  He chuckled. If he’d wanted money, he would have gone on to medical school, as he’d considered doing after college. Para-medics weren’t exactly rolling in the green stuff. “My job’s not what you’d consider—”

  She put her hand up, palm out. “I don’t want to hear the gory details about your job. We’re keeping this entirely impersonal, aren’t we?”

  Touchy, touchy. But he let her get away with it. Aside from the fact that some people truly were squeamish about medical stuff—which could be gory—Maddy had put that wall back up in place around herself. He had to slowly ease his way over it as he had the other day when they’d gone for their picnic lunch. With small, easy steps.

  Seeing a tiny price tag still hanging from the side of her brightly colored ball cap, he reached up and tugged it free. “Went shopping, huh?”

  She snagged the corner of that full bottom lip between her teeth. “It’s my first professional game,” she whispered. “I wanted to look the part.”

  “Your first ball game? Are you kidding?” Suddenly realizing something, he murmured, “I’m sorry, if you’re really not interested, we could do something else.”

  “No way! I love baseball. But I never got the chance to go see a game in person.”

  “I’m surprised your bank doesn’t have a box.”

  “We do. But that’s so…removed from everything. I can just as easily sit in my living room and watch it on TV. If I’m going in person, I want to sit in the stands, and eat peanuts and drink beer, glare at drunks spitting in the next row and yell at the ump when he makes a bad call.”

  Yep. Pretty typical ball game, in Jake’s experience. “Well, then, I think you bid on the right man.”

  She shifted her eyes away, mumbling something.

  “What?”

  “Nothing.” Then she glanced at his pickup. “Do you want to take my car? You can drive.”

  “Sorry. I don’t drive chick cars.” He headed for the passenger seat instead. “But I guess it won’t kill my reputation to be seen riding in one.”

  She rolled her eyes. “I’ll warn you to keep your head down when we’re coming up to any crowded intersection. We wouldn’t want to damage your…reputation.”

  She got in beside him, and in the close confines of the tiny car, he suddenly noticed the sweet, light fragrance of her skin. The fruity scent of her hair. And the earthier scent of pure, unadulterated woman.

  He was, quite simply, unable to resist her any longer.

  “Maddy?”

  She had reached for the ignition, but paused, turning to give him her full attention. “Yes?”

  “I know this isn’t exactly protocol for a first date. But I can’t help it.”

  “Help what?”

  “Help this,” he whispered. And without another word, he leaned over, caressed her smooth cheek with the tips of his fingers, and covered her beautiful, soft lips with his own.

  She tensed for the slightest moment, then, with a little sigh of acceptance, relaxed. The tension left her jaw, the stiffness departed from her mouth, and she parted her lips slightly, to share a warm breath with him.

  Jake inhaled it, tasting her, letting himself be filled by her essence. The kiss remained light, sweet, innocent. They were joined only by the softest brush of lips and scrape of his fingers on her cheek. And he knew that despite how desperately he wanted to sink his tongue into her for a fuller taste, he couldn’t deny himself the sweetness of this simple, innocent pleasure.

  Finally, when he no longer trusted himself to keep it simple and innocent, he slowly pulled away. “I’m sorry.”

  “Sorry you kissed me?” she whispered, blinking a few times as if she’d just awakened from a dream.

  He shook his head. “Sorry I had to stop.”

  “Oh.”

  He shifted in his seat, trying to stretch his long legs in the cramped front seat, wondering if she’d noticed how much tighter the fit was now that he’d let himself give in to the need to taste her. Especially the fit of his jeans.

  “That was supposed to be a friendly kiss hello.”

  “Aren’t those usually on the cheek?”

  “I think they’re usually in the air an inch from the cheek in your social set, aren’t they?”

  She nodded, her choppy, audible breaths finally slowing as she, too, returned to normal. “Yes.” Then, not meeting his eye, she added, “But I think I like your way better.”

  THE AFTERNOON was everything Maddy had dreamed it would be. Her twenty-five thousand dollars had bought her nosebleed seats at a game the Cubs were about to lose. But it didn’t matter. She was so excited to be in the crowd, experiencing live Major League Baseball the way she’d always imagined it would be, that she simply didn’t care.

  Jake treated her like the girl-next-door she’d proclaimed herself to be. And he—despite his supposedly international upbringing, which she’d seen absolutely no evidence of since they’d met—was playing the role of all-American boy as if he’d invented it. It was hard to believe he was anything other than a normal, hardworking guy from any small town, rather than a paid escort competed over by rich women.

  Maybe Tabby made a mis
take.

  No. It wasn’t a mistake. She’d told Maddy the exact number, and their stepmother and her cronies had bid like wild women on Bachelor Number Nineteen. Plus, from what Maddy remembered about his bio in the program, it had said he liked to travel the world in search of beautiful women and sexy adventures.

  Not quite like the guy cheering on the home team beside her. So he obviously wore a different persona depending on the situation. She honestly didn’t know, however, which was the real man.

  “Want some peanuts?” he asked, already flagging down a vendor.

  “I think that was on my list of requirements for today,” she admitted.

  Jake grinned, put an icy-cold beer in her hand, and glared down anyone around them who got too close with their wildly gesticulating arms and elbows.

  He also kept up a running commentary on the game, explaining all the plays. She let him. It seemed such an innate man thing—the need to explain sports to the little woman—that she didn’t have the heart to tell him she’d been a star of her college fast-pitch softball team. She’d even thought about going further with it and shooting for the national team.

  Maddy might be soft from several years working in the bank, but she’d once been pretty damned athletic. She’d even considered breast reduction surgery. Sport bras did not do much to help a woman with a D cup. Her teammates used to joke that one day, if she bounced too much as she ran, she’d knock herself out.

  Maddy had given up her Olympic hopes when her father had gone through his last divorce, from his third wife. Maddy had been so worried about him, she’d decided to go home after graduation, rather than pursue that dream.

  Which meant her breasts were safe. And prominent enough to draw the gawking attention of a few guys around her. She’d heard the comments from a creep sitting behind her for the last half hour, but was quite adept at ignoring them. She’d had lots of practice.

  Jake, however, had not.

  After the slurred voice behind her got loud enough for Jake to hear it over the crowd, he leaped to his feet, turned around and thrust an angry finger into the drunk man’s face. “Didn’t your mother ever teach you to keep your eyes to your own damn self and your fat mouth closed?” he snapped.