Pretty in Kink Page 10

  Then the way he’d taken control and tied her up at his house…

  Whew.

  As she played it all back in her mind now her heart raced. Sure, Lexi had seen to the ruining of the “mood”—Britt made a mental note to interrogate Lexi again about how she’d known where to find her that night. But despite the oddity of that, Britt had been prepared to give in to him further after Lexi had left his house. Even now as she hauled bags in from the car, her belly quickened deep in her loins and wetness trickled onto her panties as she recalled the sensation of being at his mercy. She’d never done that kind of thing before, the kinky, tie-me-up games.

  Well, not with a man anyway. In those pictures, yes. And wow, how disappointed Lexi had been when she’d called Britt later Friday evening and Britt had admitted she’d destroyed the photos and the negatives.

  She sighed as she unloaded cereal and canned goods into the cabinets. Though she understood Lexi’s motivation for wanting to enter the contest, she’d determined that she couldn’t risk her own career just to further Lexi’s. True, Britt could use all that money too, but the chances of winning were slim while the possibility of Doris or the general public finding out who haunted those faceless pictures proved far greater. Better to leave her finances and furthering her career to Doris than to try to capitalize on a farfetched contest prize on her own.

  But as far as Diego was concerned, she just didn’t know what to do. Her nerves were already shot waiting for Doris to pull through with the Victoria’s Secret deal. What had started out as a sure thing had turned into something a bit more detailed and nitpicky. The message Doris had left on her cell before she’d left with Diego for the rally Friday had all the details. They wanted a shorter term, but Doris insisted on a longer one with several out-clauses. In addition, they couldn’t come to an agreement on money, the one thing Britt worried might lose the contract for her if Doris continued to push for more.

  But then that was nothing new. Doris always wanted more.

  Britt figured she needed a diversion about right now, one that didn’t include Doris or Lexi. With all the hours and days on end of department-store catalog shoots, dressing, undressing, sizing to fit and makeup, nail and hair sittings, she could use a bit of unwinding time. Last week had been endless sessions of hand and foot shots, pedicures and manicures, diamond rings on, tennis bracelets off, shoot and reshoot. Under all those hot lights, the constant smiling, spinning, snap, flash, she’d almost lost her mind. She groaned at the thought, knowing that behind the curtain wasn’t quite as glamorous as those on the opposite side of the camera thought it could be. It could get tiring and well, downright boring.

  She wanted that needed distraction to be spent with Diego, but she wasn’t quite sure what to do from here. She wondered if Lexi was right. Perhaps he was wrong for her after all. If she characterized him the way Lexi did, he’d be the perfect candidate to screw a woman over. Charismatic, enthralling, arrogant and yet irresistible in a dark sort of way, while thoroughly enjoying the power and control he wielded over a woman.

  Yeah, maybe she’d fallen into his arms blind and dumb.

  Britt paused, clutching a bunch of bananas against her breasts. “Oh, but those sure were nice arms on that bod, Diego Mansini.”

  The image of his naked, buff body filled her thoughts. Her pulse quickened at the remembered sensation of his strong grip, the way he held her down and forced her into submission. She could see him fit and tanned, all those tattoos decorating the bulging muscles… God, what was wrong with her? Diego was a total about-face from her usual lean type. But then she had nothing or no one to show for it, now did she? Every relationship up to this point had either fizzled out mutually, or ended in total drama-filled disaster. Yet she’d met Diego just four days ago—had it really only been four?—and already, more excitement and anticipation sparked inside her than she’d experienced in all those months put together with the other men in her past.

  A firm rap on the door brought her out of her musing. She set the bananas in a basket on the countertop, folded the last grocery sack and tucked it under the sink. Before she could step into the living room, another knock sounded, this one more impatient.

  “I’m coming,” she called out. When she reached the door, she peered through the peephole. “Diego,” she whispered. Even though the glass in the tiny hole distorted the image, she knew it had to be him by the height and the casual stance. A rush of heat poured through her blood. She smoothed her hair, blew on her hand to test her breath.

  Oh lord, help her to calm her nerves.

  Her hand trembled as she slid the chain aside and unbolted the door.

  “Hi.” The one-word, husky greeting settled in her ears and incinerated what nerves she’d salvaged. She looked at him and knew a moment of complete and utter female surrender. He stood with his arms folded, his hip propped against the wooden handrail. “Well aren’t you going to invite me in?”

  If she’d been able to formulate any sort of a response in her mind, it wouldn’t have made it to her tongue. Nothing except the handsome sight of him would register. Dumbstruck, she let her gaze travel over him. He wore a black sleeveless Harley t-shirt, faded jeans and black leather boots. The muscles in his sun-kissed arms flexed, making the inked sketches on his biceps appear 3-D. He must have come straight from the shower, because his hair flowed past his shoulders in thick, damp strands. The humid breeze blew in, carrying with it the scent of deodorant soap and his unique musky aftershave.

  Her gaze rose up the thick neck to the whiskered jaw. The goatee had filled in more in the days since she’d last seen him. But his chiseled cheeks and jaw were freshly shaven. Her hand itched to graze the smooth skin, to cup the gorgeous face and pull him into a ravenous kiss. Yum. That mouth with the full bottom lip curved into a smug grin. And his eyes danced with humor, pleased, arrogant and sure.

  “I…I’m sorry. Yes, please come in.” She stepped aside and allowed him entry, her legs quivering as she moved.

  He kept his gaze locked on hers and covered the distance in two brisk strides. His aroma wrapped about her, seductive and beguiling, a split second before his arms went around her. “Damn, you’re so gorgeous.”

  The twinkle in his eyes coupled with his breathy words made her mind go blank. Her tongue thick, she did her best to reply. “Uh, I’m just in my cruddy shopping sweats. But thanks, you’re not too bad yourself.” She forced herself not to sigh at the heat of his body surrounding her, holding her captive.

  His lips brushed hers as he spoke, his voice warm and thick as honey. “Whatever you wear—or don’t, hopefully—is fine by me. Hey, I missed you, doll.”

  She gave in to the urge and at last slid her arms around his waist. Solid strength came to mind as she embraced him. “Really? You could have fooled me.”

  “You’re cute when you pout.” He chuckled and nipped her bottom lip. “Sorry, it’s been a busy weekend at the shop. Got slammed. Besides,” he added, his voice lowering to a raspy tease, “it was good for you.”

  “Good for me? What…” She groaned when he cruised a hand up her hip and waist and closed it around her breast. Britt fought for air, forced out her next words. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “The waiting, the wondering, the anticipation. I bet you’re creamier inside than a hot and gooey bonbon.” Through her thin, long-sleeved shirt and the lace of her bra, he found her nipple, already hard and obedient between his thick fingers. He pinched it, pulling until she let out a whimper. A slow trail of fire blazed down through her belly and settled in her loins. True, she was creamier than a hot, gooey bonbon.

  Damn him.

  But he hadn’t had time to drag her back down into the no-turning-back stage of lust. As a result, she still had part of her faculties about her, which in turn left her vulnerable to an awareness of mortification. She didn’t have to look in a mirror to know her face had just turned the shade of cotton candy.

  Britt pulled away just out of reach and smoothed her hands on
the legs of her white sweatpants. “So, were you just passing through the neighborhood, or what?”

  He yanked her back into his arms. “Don’t be ridiculous. Palmetto Cove is way out of my way. I came all the way up here for one good reason, and one good reason only.”

  She tipped her head and stared deep into his eyes. They glittered almost murderously, determined. She knew it had to be somewhat of a betrayal to women’s libbers, but she couldn’t deny that the way he took control left her breathless and glowing inside. It made her want to submit, to let him take her wherever his bad-boy mind and incredible body wanted to.

  “And that would be?”

  “You.” He dipped his head and gave her a quick, playful kiss on the lips. “I have burgers patted out, the grill ready to fire up and a salad tossed.”

  At the mention of food she blinked, and it brought her out of the dream stage into stark reality. He had perfect timing.

  In more ways than one.

  In this case, she was starving for food. It sounded absolutely delicious. “You do? Where?”

  “My place. Now fetch your purse and let’s go.” Diego twirled her around to face the side table at the door where her purse sat. He followed that sudden movement with a playful swat on the ass.

  “Ow.” At first it made her gasp and she turned, rubbed the offended cheek and glared at him. But it unburied latent and delayed sensations in her, accelerated by the feral look in his eyes. The sting of it grew on her, evolving from warmth into a hot fire that made her whole rear tingle. Britt was somewhat astonished to realize she liked it and that it made that “gooey” center he spoke of indeed melt into cream.

  “You get off on it.” He pinched her chin, tipped her face up and captured her stare with his. “Don’t you, Britt?”

  She swallowed. “No, I—”

  “Be honest.”

  She stood there for a long moment, pondering how she should answer such a question. Her stomach growled, reminding her she was hungry. She admitted she couldn’t wait to go back to his cozy house again, but this time they’d do normal things. They’d eat dinner, watch TV, make out in regular, boring ways. Maybe that would confirm Lexi’s assumptions of him, which in turn would force her to let go of this strange obsession she had with this dangerous man.

  “I…it surprised me at first.”

  “And then?”

  “I-it felt good after the sting cooled down.” Did she really just say that?

  A muscle in his jaw twitched and his eyes glazed over. “Ah, and on that promising note, I think we should be going.”

  If it weren’t for his cheery words, she’d have sworn the thinning of his lips and the tenseness of his body had meant anger or some sort of volatile emotion she couldn’t quite pin down. He drew in a long breath, as if only a thin thread kept him from losing control.

  “C’mon, beautiful.” He held out his hand and she took it as she snatched up her purse. His fingers closed around hers, possessive, secure. Why was it everything the man did made her stomach flutter and her pulse pound?

  And kept her pussy in a constant state of wetness.

  He led her down the walk and to the parking lot. The orange ball of the setting sun peeped below a distant line of gray haze. The clouds flickered and faraway thunder rumbled. Palm trees lined the sidewalks and swayed and clacked. A storm brewed. Britt’s body charged and snapped with energy much the same as the storm clouds. She could smell the fresh, strong aroma of the coming rain and shivered when a cool breeze blew inland and ruffled her hair.

  Diego approached a black-and-chrome, newer-model pickup truck. He pulled open the passenger door and swung her around to the seat. Her mouth fell open. The truck was loaded with options, the dashboard full of knobs and sliders and an impressive sound system. The gearshift stood tall and sleek on the center floorboard, the tan leather bucket seats tempting to sample. The rich yet rugged power of the vehicle emphasized the ever-changing layers of this man.

  “Go ahead, get in. I promise the truck won’t bite. Well, it won’t, but I might.” He added a wink to that.

  Her loins stirred. “Yes, something tells me you have it in you to do just that.” She slid into the cool, slick seat.

  “Buckle up.” He stood there in the open door until she clicked the seat belt into place.

  He closed the door with a quick shove. She couldn’t take her gaze off him. He made such a stunning picture. The evening sun glowed behind him, coupled with that predator’s gait in the jeans and t-shirt. He exuded confidence and a reckless aura as he rounded the front of the vehicle. His hair, raked back off his face, swept his shoulders when he leaped up in the truck and leaned toward her.

  His mouth hovered a half inch from hers and his gaze latched to hers like radar. “And you want me to do it too, don’t you, babe?”

  Britt stared, unable to croak out a response. As if he took pity on her, he planted a smacking kiss on her lips and tore out of the parking lot.

  He traveled down the coast road, window wide open. His big hand gripped the gearshift as he moved through each gear with ease and expertise. The fast, loud machine gave her a rush she couldn’t quite suppress. It vibrated against her rear much as his motorcycle had. Diego zipped in and out of traffic, following the road as it curved inland then back out to track the shoreline. She eyed him with furtive glances, drawn to the strong profile and windblown hair, groaning to herself when her eyes traveled the span of his muscled arm. She could imagine its long length wrapped around her waist, that big hand stroking her breasts, her pussy.

  Stop it, Britt, you pitiful fool. No attachments allowed. He may seem perfect in a scoundrel sort of way, but sooner or later he’ll lie, he’ll cheat, he’ll screw up, just like they all do.

  Just like the infamous Scoundrel.

  As they drove farther south toward the northern outskirts of Tampa, he slid a CD into the player, pressed a button. His gaze latched on to her loose, blowing hair. “Should probably close the window, huh?” He reached for the button on his armrest.

  “No.” She touched his other arm. It sent a ripple of heat through her blood. “Please, leave it open. I enjoy the feel of the wind rushing through my hair.”

  He crossed his eyes and let out a playful growl. “Rushing is right. Sweetheart, you give me the biggest rush.”

  She smiled at him and wondered when this cloud she floated on would give way beneath her feet. “Thank you.”

  He opened the console, dug inside and held up a Tootsie Pop sucker. “Want one?”

  “Uh, no, that’s okay.” She giggled. “When did you start sucking on lollipops?”

  He unwrapped the cherry candy and popped it in his mouth. The stick poked out between his clamped teeth as he sucked. He glanced over at her and spoke around the sucker. “Just quit smoking. Decided you’re too classy to be around a dude that smokes, and this might help wean me off, especially when you’re looking so good.” He pulled the sucker out with a pop and wagged it at her. “You taste way better than this candy. Makes my palms sweat. Makes me nervous and wanna reach for a cigarette.”

  Her face warmed. She recalled the photograph Lexi had taken of her sucking on a very similar lollipop. An odd sensation washed over her, but similar to the tip-of-the-tongue syndrome, it faded from her attention. His words took its place.

  “I make you nervous?”

  His tongue snaked out—mm-mm, the one that had rocked her universe—and he licked on the cherry ball. The slurp noise it made sounded over the wind and faint rock music easing from the speakers. The way it had slurped on her pussy.

  “Damn right. Just looking at you gets me all hot and quivery inside.”

  Wow. Just wow. She didn’t know what to say to that, but he sure made her feel the same way.

  Palm trees lined small-town streets, their fronds tossed on the winds that blew in ahead of the coming storm. Dusk moved in on daylight in a layer of pinks and mauves behind the angry, distant storm cloud. Kansas rocked on about a wayward son, begging listeners not t
o cry no more. Britt knew the tune to be from the seventies. It fit him, the hard rock, the memorable tune, the thoughtful lyrics. Yet she knew he couldn’t be a day over thirty.

  “How old are you?” she asked over the music as he slowed and turned right down his long asphalt drive.

  He shot her a glance as he downshifted. “Thirty-one. Why? Too much of an old man for you?”

  She giggled as he drove farther behind the house than her first visit here, pulled up to a tan stucco, detached garage she hadn’t noticed before, and shut off the engine. Across the neatly cut lawn and through the scatter of swaying palms and weeping willows, she spotted a dock jutting out toward the choppy Gulf waters.

  “No, not old considering I’m twenty-six, myself. It’s just your music style. Old classic rock, born before you were, I’m sure, yet it’s so you.”

  “I’ll take that as a compliment.” He said it with a grin as he slid from the seat, came around to her side and opened the door for her. “I think.”

  She climbed out and stared up at him. “It was meant as one. Your style is unique. I like everything…about you.”

  “In spite of Lexi?” He slammed the door shut.

  “I’m my own person, Diego. I can make my own judgments and decisions.”

  The brief flash of tender lust in his eyes didn’t go unnoticed by either her sight or her libido. “Then judge this,” he rasped. “Tell me just what you think.” He cupped her jaw, swooped down and captured her mouth with his. The kiss demanded her full attention, urgent yet gentle. It tasted of cherry candy and danger with a promise of more to come. She missed the scent and flavor of tobacco, but decided she liked this Diego too, the bad boy trying to be good.

  Trying.

  Strange, here she’d transformed from good to naughty, while he’d gone from naughty to good.

  He sucked the life from her, making her heart quake in her chest. She whimpered, her ass and lower back slamming against the truck. Ever the protective male, he gathered her up and molded her body to his. Unable to resist, she slid her hands around and fisted them in his shirt.