The Best Laid Plans (5 page)

She trailed a hand down her stomach and picked up her fruity drink, delicately sipping from the blue straw, feigning cool.

But he saw how her chest rose and fell faster than before.

Sometime during the kiss, the other guy had left the table. Guess they’d been convincing in playing girlfriend and boyfriend. Now he just had to convince her that this was something she’d want to pursue outside of a role-playing in the bar.

“Come to my place?” she asked casually.

Yes!
“I guess a gentleman would make sure you got home safely,” he replied, just as casually, though he could have back flipped around the bar, screaming his victory.

Jayne smiled like a cat that had the mouse firmly in its slinky little paws.

Little did she know, she wasn’t the cat at all.

***

She’d thought about that kiss the whole drive from the bar to her apartment, sitting in his passenger seat, wanting him to pull over so she could taste a little more of it. A tame little kiss shouldn’t have made her nipples tight, made her this anxious to get him into her bed. But she’d wanted to jump him the whole drive over.

But then they’d have been on the side of the road getting hotter, prolonging the agony of the already too-long journey to the nearest bed. If his hands were as good as his lips, she could expect the best orgasm of her life. She wasn’t going to waste that banging him in his car. Her knuckles were white she clenched her purse so tightly. Almost home. Thank god. This would be good. She hadn’t been this turned on by a kiss in years. Maybe ever.

The key sliding into the lock sounded like a zipper sliding open. She hoped he didn’t see her hands trembling as she unlocked the door. What was beneath his clothes? She’d felt the solidness of his body when they’d kissed at the bar, and she couldn’t get the door open fast enough.
Whoa, Jayne.
She’d already broken her own rules by bringing him back to her place. She hauled in a deep breath, not giving into her body screaming at her to lose control. He was so contained, so cool. He’d eye-fucked her like mad in the elevator, but kept his hands, and deliciously muscular arms, to himself. Unfortunately. Even through the aching, her ego flared up, demanding she not seem desperate for him. There was something different about the way he looked at her. She had to regain control over the situation, and reel him in.

He held the door open for her, and she walked inside the entry.

The heavy door swung shut, closing them into her home.
Step into my parlour ….
Jayne would offer him a nightcap and then give him a tour. He wouldn’t jump her during the tour of the bedroom; he seemed more in control than that. They’d end up in the living room, he’d make his move, they’d start on the couch, and then she’d subtly suggest they go to her room. She’d let him take the lead, see if he would finally be the one to take it, to take her where she needed to go.

But that would be happening in a few minutes. She could afford to relax and savor the buildup to that. As long as it only took a few minutes.

“Care for a nightcap?” She took a step toward the kitchen.

“Not tonight, thanks.”

She stopped. What? Jayne swallowed the disappointment. Him saying no wasn’t anywhere on her radar. Not after that kiss. Oh, of course! He just didn’t want a drink. Getting straight to business, not that she could blame him.

“Care for a short tour?” Her lips curled into a knowing smile.

“Maybe another time.”

What?
Maybe he really was just being a gentleman and seeing her home.

“Well, thanks for seeing me up,” she said, unsure why he’d wasted her time, why he didn’t want to stay. Had she done something to turn him off? Did he just not want her? Then why would he go to the trouble of driving her here instead of putting her in a cab? The kiss had been amazing, chemistry that hot wasn’t one-sided. So what the hell?

She squared her shoulders. Surprised, but resigned not to let him see how he’d rattled her. No one refused her anymore, she wasn’t used to rejection and it didn’t sit well with her. It had been a long time since she’d heard a ‘No.’

She walked past him back to the door to lead him out. No sense him hanging around rubbing his refusal into her wounds. There’d been so much potential in their kiss, and it was all for nothing. It sucked.

“Jayne.” He spoke as she passed him. He stared at her like he could see beneath the facade. It was terrifying, and fascinating, and sexy as hell. He held out a piece of paper. “This is my address. Stop by tomorrow evening at seven. If you’re ready.”

“Ready for what?” she sneered, not taking the paper. Cocky bastard.

He slowly but steadily backed her against the wall and braced his arms on either side, trapping her. He smelled incredible. The look in his eyes made her mouth dry, as suddenly as a more interesting place became wet. She reached a hand out to run over his abs. He grabbed and pinned it against the wall. She moved her other hand and he pinned it as well.

“You think—”

“Shhhh,” he interrupted. “Show. Don’t tell.” He pressed against her, hard, raising her hands above her head. He was so strong, but he wasn’t hurting her – clearly he took care not to. He was gentle but firm; there was no resisting him. Resist? She’d claw his eyes out if he stopped. Moving in for a kiss, he denied her his mouth by turning his head away at the last second. She leaned back, frustrated. He moved closer, lips within reach, but pulled away again as she strained forward to meet him.

Those eyes. Forbidding, daring, teasing her, sweeping her head to toe, burning into her. She squirmed, desperate for his mouth. This time, when he came toward her, she kept still. His lips curved into an approving smile.

As soon as he got close enough, she was going to bite that lower lip and kiss him with everything she had until he couldn’t do anything but throw her down and fuck her right here on the floor.

He came close, closer, almost close enough, but veered south at the last second, lips landing on her neck, teeth grazing the sensitive skin. Every single nerve woke, hyper aware of his presence, begging to be soothed by his touch. Her hands were released, but his mouth stilled as he waited to see her reaction. She stayed perfectly still, other than the trembling that shook her limbs.

Malcolm nuzzled and licked at her neck, harder than before, but still not hard enough. Oh god she was wet with wanting.

Can I force him to the floor? No, he’s too strong. Damn it. I wish he’d just fucking take me right here, right now!

As if reading her mind, he slid a steady hand through the hair at the nape of her neck. Stroking her scalp, she almost came when he fisted her hair in his hand, and pulled her head back. He wanted her as much as she wanted him! He moved his mouth to the other side of her throat, increased the pressure of his tongue, and bit her flesh. She trembled and dared to press harder against his mouth, wanting more, needing more.

 He obliged.

His other hand slid slowly up, gently grazing her skin, searing her softly as button by button, he undid her shirt. Palming her breast, he teased her nipple through the thin, silky fabric. Her eyes snapped open when he nestled the small square of paper inside her bra beside her breast. His gaze was on her, looking at her with a hunger she felt deep in her belly. Only he’d caused the hunger and could end it any time, but for some reason chose not to.

“Seven p.m.,” he breathed against her mouth, not quite making contact. His breath was minty and cool as she licked her lips, trying to taste him. He tore himself away from her with a speed that made her whimper and take a couple steps in his wake before she realized she’d moved.

He paused at the threshold, smiled, and shut the door softly behind him. Her shaky legs carried her after him, and she leaned against the door, breasts aching, and felt a corner of the paper dig into her nipple. Pulling the square of paper out and unfolding it, she realized the numbers were his address. When had he written it down? Had this been his plan all along?

Cocky bastard.

Her eye went back to the peep-hole. He didn’t look back at her as he casually leaned against the wall. Jayne bit her lip and gazed at his ass.

No man had ever gotten her so hot, made her wetter.

It wasn’t until he got in the elevator and out of sight that Jayne realized he hadn’t even kissed her.

She’d worn out her vibrator’s batteries last night and it still hadn’t been enough. She wanted him. She wanted him so she could get it out of her system and forget about him. Move on.

I only want him because he didn’t give in right away
. Okay, he was sexy as hell and that kiss, and the memory of his expression as he backed her against the wall made her toes curl. But you always want what you can’t have. That’s how the saying went. That’s all it was.

And she would have him. On his knees. Begging her for release. Begging hard.

Please, let him beg
.

By the way her fingers trembled when looking up his address online, driving was out of the question. She’d crash the car on the way there. No, a cab was safer, and it would also leave more time to prepare.

A long soak in the bathtub scented with rosewater and vanilla oil left her skin decadently soft and delicately perfumed without being overbearing. And it hadn’t turned him off last night. Best to keep the variables the same.

As Lisa Tristina wrote
, ‘Even expensive perfume can be off-putting when one over does it. Make him have to get right up close to experience you. Strong scents can drive a man away. Less is more.’

Jayne agreed. She hated when women, or men, doused themselves with scent. Malcolm had smelled … clean. He might not have even worn aftershave, but he still smelled good. But his scent had been pretty much obliterated by the kiss. It overshadowed every other sensory memory from last night. She shivered again remembering the press of his lips, and the look in his eyes when he backed her against her wall. If he’d combined those two, and kissed her against the wall … Why hadn’t he wanted her?

She exfoliated and shaved her legs, under her arms. She’d had a bikini wax last week, was good to go there. Unplugging the tub with her toe, she sat there waiting for the water to drain, and then for her body to dry. Towelling off made the skin red, and rubbed away the oils, removed some of the softness.

When she’d dried, she rubbed a bit of lotion on her elbows and knees, then set her hair in hot rollers while she did her makeup.

‘
Make-up should enhance natural beauty and hide flaws. The more natural you look, the sexier you look. Save the brightly colored, playful eye shadow for girl’s night out. Play it neutral for him. He should see you, not your product.’

Jayne used a light hand in following Lisa Tristina’s advice, fixing flaws, making herself look dewy and soft instead of painted up. She swiped on extra mascara, and swept a subtle rosy glow on her cheeks with some blush. She looked bright, fresh, and sexy.

Her heart beat too fast, and she leaned against the counter taking deep breaths. When had she wanted anyone this badly? Maybe never. What if he didn’t want her at all? Had she read the situation wrong? No. She hadn’t misread the way he’d backed her into the wall.

She slipped into a delicate silk slip dress that landed just below her knees and had a sweetheart neckline. Vamping it up wasn’t the way to go. Jayne’s instincts told her that sweet and feminine would be the way to get him hard. Eschewing heels for ballerina flats, she removed the curlers. In the mirror, her pupils were dilated, lips plump with increased blood flow from desire, and fear if she was honest about it.
Oh, Malcolm, you are going down.

And she would be on top of him when he did.

***

Had he supremely screwed up? Malcolm had been certain she wanted him last night; that he’d gotten her hot. But had he turned her on enough to come to his apartment tonight? God he was nervous. Walking away from her last night had taken a strength he hadn’t known he possessed. His dick throbbed in protest as he left her apartment, but he suspected she’d been watching him and he couldn’t give in, or the game was lost. A woman as hot as she had become wouldn’t be used to men doing anything but giving in to her advances. It would drive her nuts that he’d walked away.

He hoped.

Jerking off in the shower twice when he got home brought some release, but no relief, no satisfaction. It hadn’t helped this morning either. He’d still been half hard after he came, thinking about her. That kiss had been amazing. What if he’d blown his only chance to be with her?

No, not be
with
her.
Fuck
her. Be
inside
her. He was seducing her, pure and simple. It wasn’t personal, it was … well, it was personal. But it wasn’t about how much he wanted her now. He had to do this for what she did to him back in school. What her actions had done to him. She’d made him want to die.

He very nearly had.

Damn twelfth grade growth spurt. By then he’d been doing high school through correspondence for nearly two years. He never went to the graduation ceremony, though he’d had the right to graduate with the rest of his class. Strolling around the gym schmoozing with the people who’d made his life a living hell didn’t make Malcolm’s top ten list of fun things to do. Now, he guessed it might have been good for closure, but he didn’t need it, and at the time he wasn’t ready to face his tormentors over a bowl of punch.