Part 7 (1/2)
He glanced at the clock. After four. If he was going through with his date with Annie, he probably ought to get a move on. And if he wasn't....
He honestly couldn't decide. But knowing he didn't have time to fool around, he headed for the shower, using the hot water and the steam to clear his head, let him think straight.
”Second date or not?” he muttered.
The question reminded him of their conversation at the bar the other night, the way she'd made him work for that second date. And, hopefully, a third. G.o.d, but she'd been adorable.
Thoughts of Annie's gentle laugh, her bright smile, her slim, graceful body, had filled his head often since then. Now, though, what he remembered most was the smell of her. That soft, peaches and cream smell. He didn't know if it came from her shampoo, body lotion, or some kind of perfume. He only knew that whenever he thought about it, he wanted to taste her. To savor her like a ripe, juicy piece of fruit.
Right here in the luxurious bathroom would be a nice place to start doing all the things he wanted to do to her. He'd love to stand Annie in front of him in the shower, aiming the twin jets of water pulsing from the two showerheads directly at her.
Sean would tuck in behind her, his chest to her back, his c.o.c.k nestled up against her soft, sweet a.s.s, their bodies slick with soap. Though the tension of it would kill him-and he'd be dying to lean her forward and clench her hips so he could slide up into her from behind-he'd show restraint. Go slow.
He'd soap his hands, then reach around to delicately wash her. Thoroughly. Intimately. Giving careful attention to her throat, her neck, her beautiful b.r.e.a.s.t.s.
Sliding one leg between hers, he'd hold her thighs apart, exposing her s.e.x to the stream of hot liquid cascading down from above. And then he'd help the water in its quest to pleasure her. He'd use his touch, the feel of his hot breath on her skin, his sultry whispers about how much he wanted her, to bring Annie's arousal level to a fever pitch.
”G.o.d, yes,” he groaned, realizing he was already there.
His body had reacted to the heated thoughts and the stroke of his own hand as he washed himself.
Knowing there was no way in h.e.l.l he'd give up the chance to see her tonight-to have their second date as they inched closer to that ever-important third one-Sean gave himself over to it. To fantasy, to sensation, to antic.i.p.ation.
His mind filled with images of Annie with her head thrown back as he pleasured her. Her pink-tipped b.r.e.a.s.t.s arching toward his mouth. It was her her hand on his c.o.c.k, wrapped tight, stroking him into madness. hand on his c.o.c.k, wrapped tight, stroking him into madness. Her Her touch bringing him higher and higher. touch bringing him higher and higher.
His mind suddenly conjured up the scent of peaches.
Leaning one arm against the slick tile wall, he pumped into his own fist, practically feeling Annie's tight little body clenching him, wringing him dry of thought and sensation. Until finally his every muscle stiffened. A roar of heat rushed through his veins and he came with a soft groan of pleasure.
It was enough for now. But it couldn't begin to compare, he knew, to what was waiting for him when he did truly make love to Annie Davis.
Which meant the answer was yes to their second date.
ANNIE HADN'T HAD to go shopping for a dress. She wasn't a clotheshorse, and seldom had use for dressy outfits. But that didn't mean she hadn't done what every red-blooded American woman did whenever she pa.s.sed an end-of-season clearance rack-grab a little black c.o.c.ktail dress if she saw the right size. to go shopping for a dress. She wasn't a clotheshorse, and seldom had use for dressy outfits. But that didn't mean she hadn't done what every red-blooded American woman did whenever she pa.s.sed an end-of-season clearance rack-grab a little black c.o.c.ktail dress if she saw the right size.
She'd forgotten about the ones she'd stashed away at the back of her closet in recent years. Not just in black, but in red and navy, too. All with the tags still attached.
But she didn't decide to wear one of those. Because Annie had a problem. She did not know for sure sure that Sean was taking her somewhere that would require a c.o.c.ktail dress. that Sean was taking her somewhere that would require a c.o.c.ktail dress.
According to what she'd just discovered, a pair of jeans and a baseball cap might be more appropriate.
”You are such a contradiction,” she mumbled, staring at Sean's photo in the slick brochure from Monday night's auction.
She had grabbed the program from the center console of her minivan when she got home from work, shoving the usual contents-empty bottle, rattle, spare pacifier, blanket-out of the way. Hoping to find out the name of the restaurant where they'd be dining so she could decide what to wear, she'd read the paragraph beneath his picture. And had been thoroughly confused.
”A home game at Wrigley,” she read again. ”Followed by wings and beer at a pub.”
That so so didn't sound like the kind of dinner she'd envisioned. Sean had specifically mentioned her yellow dress, and even the most clueless of guys-which he wasn't-would know a woman wouldn't wear something like that to a baseball game. didn't sound like the kind of dinner she'd envisioned. Sean had specifically mentioned her yellow dress, and even the most clueless of guys-which he wasn't-would know a woman wouldn't wear something like that to a baseball game.
Wally, who was sprawled in his favorite so-not-cat-like spread-eagle position on the couch, lifted his head to see if she was speaking to him. Not that he usually paid any attention, at least, not unless she had food. ”Go back to sleep,” she said. ”Better yet, go into my room and stay there so you can't be mean to Sean.”
He ignored her. Wally wasn't the most friendly creature. When her brother Jed had come to visit, the disdainful cat had actually peed on his shoes.
Picturing the horrendous possibilities, she picked Wally up and took him with her to the bedroom, bringing the brochure along, too. Now that she'd caught sight of that picture again, her eyes kept going back to it, acknowledging that, yes, she truly was going on a date with that that incredible man. incredible man.
Giving in to a sudden impulse, Annie tore Sean's page out of the program so she could save it. She was obviously channeling her Tiger-Beat-Magazine-loving tween self. Because if she drew hearts around his face and wrote ”Sean Loves Annie” in spiky cursive handwriting, it would look much like the artwork that had adorned her bedroom walls when she'd been twelve.
”Crazy,” she said, laughing at herself for the silliness. Tara would have such a field day with this one.
Realizing she was running out of time, Annie showered, put on the basics in terms of makeup, and left her hair down in its usual slick bob.
But that didn't solve the problem of the clothes. That was why, when she heard a knock on her apartment door at seven o'clock, she was wearing nothing but a bra and panties, covered with a short, silky blue robe.
When she answered and saw Sean standing there in a dark, tailored suit, she knew she should have gone with a dress.
”Good G.o.d, woman, are you tryin' to kill me here?”
He stared at her from the doorway, his eyes narrowing as he noted the deep vee of the robe and the tight cinch of the tie around her waist. She could almost see the hunger wash over him, like a wave of warm water, as he parted his lips and breathed audibly across them.
”Give me a piece of pizza,” he muttered. ”We'll call this number two and I'll come back in an hour for our third date.”
Pizza wasn't a food anyone would a.s.sociate with someone who looked like him. Not tonight, anyway.
His long, dark hair was pulled back into a short ponytail, his ruggedly handsome freshly shaved. The impeccably tailored jacket highlighted the broad shoulders, the splashy colors of his tie completely in style. The trousers skimmed over his lean hips and she'd wager his shoes were Italian.
And he was a rescue worker? Good grief, the man looked like he should be on the pages of a Hollywood magazine. She couldn't help thinking any ambulance he stepped out of at a rescue scene could only be on a movie set.
She really needed to ask him where he worked.
Wherever it was, pizza just wouldn't cut it. Caviar, maybe-though Annie had never tasted it, and had no desire to.
”Or have you changed your mind about that third date requirement?” he asked, sounding hopeful as he stepped inside.
Annie pushed the door closed, then looked up at him, wanting suddenly to lean up on tiptoe and nibble on that little gold stud in his ear. ”This wasn't intentional. I wasn't sure what to wear,” she replied.
Her voice was shaky, her attention still on that tiny nub of gold. She had absolutely no doubt that if she nibbled, he'd have her on her back in two minutes flat.
So take a bite.
”Please tell me you're not one of those those women.” women.”
”Those women?”
”I mean, I'm not going to have to stand here for an hour while you try on everything in your closet and get my opinion?” His expression suddenly wolfish, he added, ”Though, of course, if you want my opinion on what to wear under under your dress, I'd be happy to oblige.” your dress, I'd be happy to oblige.”
Hmm. Tempting. Especially since she was wearing a peach-colored bra and panty set that brought a warm glow to her skin.
Forget it. You're being careful now, remember? Three dates isn't too much to expect.