More Than Want You
Page 33
Wait. She’s been giving me some act?
“I’m horny in general,” I protest.
“Hmm.” She pauses thoughtfully over my words. “Maybe I didn’t learn as well as I thought, then. I’ll try harder.”
She leans in, elbows braced on the console as she lifts her fingertips to brush a soft line over her exposed skin, tracing the line of her collarbones then down, so freaking close to her shadowed, sugary cleavage. I want my hands there. My mouth pressed to her skin. My tongue laving that same path.
Why didn’t I drink her in the night I had her on the beach? She was open. She wanted me. But I was stupid and chose the quick fuck. I missed out on all the details that are driving me insane now. I really want a do-over. Or a do-again-and-again.
I bite back a curse and try to focus on the traffic as we make our way east along the coast. She drags the toe of her strappy sandal up the side of her calf, jerking my attention back to her killer legs. I imagine my hands sliding between her thighs to touch her wet folds, then my head between them so I can taste her. After she’s screamed her throat raw and is convinced she’s sated, then I’ll slide my hips between her legs and fill her pussy with every inch—
“Maxon?” she murmurs. It’s breathy, like she’s beginning to feel aroused.
I glance at her face. She purses her lips just slightly, as if she’s deep in thought. But her cheeks are flushed. When she lifts her gaze to mine, I can’t look away. Are her pupils dilated?
“Yeah,” I choke out, gripping the steering wheel in a fight for control.
Suddenly, she tosses her head back and laughs. “Gotcha! My body language is totally turning you on. You ought to see your face. If I encouraged you, I think you might actually pull over, come across the console, and try to strip me naked.”
My cock thinks that’s a great idea. I don’t want to give her the satisfaction of admitting she’s right. And giving her that kind of power over me isn’t smart.
“All right. You learned well,” I concede.
I should probably shut my mouth, but she has to know she’s capable if she’s going to use these maneuvers on Griff. God, I don’t want to think about that. At least I don’t have to look at it.
Keeley gives me a giddy clap. “I had you going.”
She still does.
“Don’t do that again unless you mean it.”
As we roll to a red light, I zip a hot stare across the space between us. My eye fuck must have some impact on her because her breath catches.
“What do you mean?”
“Tease me again, and I’ll have you in my bed, stripped down, and taking the pleasure I give you so fast you’ll be dizzy, sunshine.”
Neither of us moves or speaks for a long minute. Is she reconsidering her no-sex policy? I’m praying to any god I think may help me get laid when I hear an impatient honking behind me.
I jolt. The light has turned green. Keeley is now leaning away, arms crossed over her chest and staring out the windshield.
The moment is gone.
I curse under my breath as I step on the gas. The car lurches forward. The rest of the ride is silent.
After another strained ten minutes, we reach the house I’m previewing for an overseas client. He’s a Chinese banker looking for a place to entertain clients supposedly. I don’t really care if he uses this as a party hotspot or a love shack. He wants a luxury waterfront showplace, so I’ll find him one.
When we reach the house, I stop the car in front of a plantation-style estate. On the first level, a lush lawn leads to a huge stone patio, which gives way to wide wooden stairs. At the top, benches line the lanai, along with lush plants and a couple of cozy rockers. A beautiful dining room table sits squarely under the shade of the patio roof with a swaying ceiling fan providing an extra nudge for the gentle trade winds licking across my skin. The view of the ocean is full frontal and 180 degrees.
I don’t see doors at the threshold of the house. Instead, the opening has been widened to accommodate a floor-to-ceiling accordion glass door. The effect brings the outdoors inside, right into the adjacent, open-concept living room.
In keeping with custom, we kick off our shoes before we head inside. Two huge bamboo sofas with thick tropical-print cushions sit perpendicular to the entrance. A matching block table separates them. At the apex, a wide chair designed for reading the day away while overlooking the palm-tree-and-Pacific heaven has been positioned like a throne. Every wall is white, except one covered in well-stocked bookshelves. Skylights abound. Ceiling fans turn in lazy circles, dangling on downrods from the soaring ceilings above.
A simple wooden guitar hangs on the wall beside a hall tree on our way to the adjacent bar area. The little space is kitschy. The cabinets are bamboo. Someone hung a grass skirt as a border with old forty-fives of Elvis tracks as decor. But somehow it doesn’t look old or dated. Surprisingly, it’s neutral and functional.
On the far wall, the kitchen gleams white with a few rustic exceptions. There’s a wooden island, a giant eat-in kitchen with an old-fashioned oval table, but a sleekly modern hooded stove, double ovens, and clean white subway tile lining the walls.
The place oozes charm.
“It’s…amazing.” Keeley looks around, completely wide-eyed, blinking, oohing and aahing, brushing her hands along every surface.
She’s in love.
I don’t blame her. Besides being beautiful, the house is cozy. A person could live here, relax here, while away their days in sheer bliss.
“If your client doesn’t buy this, he’s crazy. If I had the money, I absolutely would.”
I shrug. “I think he’s looking for something more modern. Something he can show off, rather than a place where he can hide away.”
I snap off a few pictures of the view, the dining, entertaining, and kitchen spaces.
“You done in here?” she asks.
“Yeah.” Is she suddenly in a hurry?
“Good.” She grabs my hands. “Let’s go see the rest.”
I laugh as she tugs me back into the entertainment space, then through wide double doors and into an airy bedroom. More white. More plantation-cottage vibe. Flowing white drapes flap in the breeze as they frame the open French doors. Other than flowered prints on the bed in neutrals, the room is soft and simple and comfortable. Multiple windows overlook the green expanse of grass and the ocean beyond.
“I’m horny in general,” I protest.
“Hmm.” She pauses thoughtfully over my words. “Maybe I didn’t learn as well as I thought, then. I’ll try harder.”
She leans in, elbows braced on the console as she lifts her fingertips to brush a soft line over her exposed skin, tracing the line of her collarbones then down, so freaking close to her shadowed, sugary cleavage. I want my hands there. My mouth pressed to her skin. My tongue laving that same path.
Why didn’t I drink her in the night I had her on the beach? She was open. She wanted me. But I was stupid and chose the quick fuck. I missed out on all the details that are driving me insane now. I really want a do-over. Or a do-again-and-again.
I bite back a curse and try to focus on the traffic as we make our way east along the coast. She drags the toe of her strappy sandal up the side of her calf, jerking my attention back to her killer legs. I imagine my hands sliding between her thighs to touch her wet folds, then my head between them so I can taste her. After she’s screamed her throat raw and is convinced she’s sated, then I’ll slide my hips between her legs and fill her pussy with every inch—
“Maxon?” she murmurs. It’s breathy, like she’s beginning to feel aroused.
I glance at her face. She purses her lips just slightly, as if she’s deep in thought. But her cheeks are flushed. When she lifts her gaze to mine, I can’t look away. Are her pupils dilated?
“Yeah,” I choke out, gripping the steering wheel in a fight for control.
Suddenly, she tosses her head back and laughs. “Gotcha! My body language is totally turning you on. You ought to see your face. If I encouraged you, I think you might actually pull over, come across the console, and try to strip me naked.”
My cock thinks that’s a great idea. I don’t want to give her the satisfaction of admitting she’s right. And giving her that kind of power over me isn’t smart.
“All right. You learned well,” I concede.
I should probably shut my mouth, but she has to know she’s capable if she’s going to use these maneuvers on Griff. God, I don’t want to think about that. At least I don’t have to look at it.
Keeley gives me a giddy clap. “I had you going.”
She still does.
“Don’t do that again unless you mean it.”
As we roll to a red light, I zip a hot stare across the space between us. My eye fuck must have some impact on her because her breath catches.
“What do you mean?”
“Tease me again, and I’ll have you in my bed, stripped down, and taking the pleasure I give you so fast you’ll be dizzy, sunshine.”
Neither of us moves or speaks for a long minute. Is she reconsidering her no-sex policy? I’m praying to any god I think may help me get laid when I hear an impatient honking behind me.
I jolt. The light has turned green. Keeley is now leaning away, arms crossed over her chest and staring out the windshield.
The moment is gone.
I curse under my breath as I step on the gas. The car lurches forward. The rest of the ride is silent.
After another strained ten minutes, we reach the house I’m previewing for an overseas client. He’s a Chinese banker looking for a place to entertain clients supposedly. I don’t really care if he uses this as a party hotspot or a love shack. He wants a luxury waterfront showplace, so I’ll find him one.
When we reach the house, I stop the car in front of a plantation-style estate. On the first level, a lush lawn leads to a huge stone patio, which gives way to wide wooden stairs. At the top, benches line the lanai, along with lush plants and a couple of cozy rockers. A beautiful dining room table sits squarely under the shade of the patio roof with a swaying ceiling fan providing an extra nudge for the gentle trade winds licking across my skin. The view of the ocean is full frontal and 180 degrees.
I don’t see doors at the threshold of the house. Instead, the opening has been widened to accommodate a floor-to-ceiling accordion glass door. The effect brings the outdoors inside, right into the adjacent, open-concept living room.
In keeping with custom, we kick off our shoes before we head inside. Two huge bamboo sofas with thick tropical-print cushions sit perpendicular to the entrance. A matching block table separates them. At the apex, a wide chair designed for reading the day away while overlooking the palm-tree-and-Pacific heaven has been positioned like a throne. Every wall is white, except one covered in well-stocked bookshelves. Skylights abound. Ceiling fans turn in lazy circles, dangling on downrods from the soaring ceilings above.
A simple wooden guitar hangs on the wall beside a hall tree on our way to the adjacent bar area. The little space is kitschy. The cabinets are bamboo. Someone hung a grass skirt as a border with old forty-fives of Elvis tracks as decor. But somehow it doesn’t look old or dated. Surprisingly, it’s neutral and functional.
On the far wall, the kitchen gleams white with a few rustic exceptions. There’s a wooden island, a giant eat-in kitchen with an old-fashioned oval table, but a sleekly modern hooded stove, double ovens, and clean white subway tile lining the walls.
The place oozes charm.
“It’s…amazing.” Keeley looks around, completely wide-eyed, blinking, oohing and aahing, brushing her hands along every surface.
She’s in love.
I don’t blame her. Besides being beautiful, the house is cozy. A person could live here, relax here, while away their days in sheer bliss.
“If your client doesn’t buy this, he’s crazy. If I had the money, I absolutely would.”
I shrug. “I think he’s looking for something more modern. Something he can show off, rather than a place where he can hide away.”
I snap off a few pictures of the view, the dining, entertaining, and kitchen spaces.
“You done in here?” she asks.
“Yeah.” Is she suddenly in a hurry?
“Good.” She grabs my hands. “Let’s go see the rest.”
I laugh as she tugs me back into the entertainment space, then through wide double doors and into an airy bedroom. More white. More plantation-cottage vibe. Flowing white drapes flap in the breeze as they frame the open French doors. Other than flowered prints on the bed in neutrals, the room is soft and simple and comfortable. Multiple windows overlook the green expanse of grass and the ocean beyond.
