4
YASMINE HAD SPENT way too many years controlling her rebellious impulses. But she’d learned her lesson as a teenager—rebellion can have consequences. Severe consequences.
She followed Kyle up the stairs to his apartment and tried to ignore the whirl of excitement growing in her belly. What she should do was eat some Kung Pao Chicken, kiss Kyle good-night, and go home. Forget this whole crazy sex idea. She knew better by now than to follow her wild impulses, because they’d only ever led her into serious trouble.
Hacking had started out as simply an interesting challenge. She’d been a typical teenager—bored, angry and sick of her parents—only, with a gift for invading computer systems. Then hacking had grown into an act of defiance when she’d realized how much power she wielded on the Internet, and how much it would piss off her oblivious parents if they found out what she’d been up to.
Of course, they found out right before the whole world did, and they’d been furious. For once, she’d had their undivided attention.
Teen Girl Hacks Government Computers had been one of the many headlines splashed across newspapers. Her parents had thought granting the press permission to use her photo would teach her a lesson, but all the exposure had really accomplished was to create a weird cult of celebrity around her and the case.
In the months before her trial, she’d had to close her e-mail account because of all the whacked messages she’d received from guys who thought she was the hottest thing since Internet porn.
The two-year period of her prosecution and imprisonment was the worst of her life. She’d prided herself on learning a lesson from the ordeal, and she’d vowed not to cross paths with the law again.
But some little part of her, some barely controllable impulse, ached to go wild again. She didn’t have to break the law. In fact, she saw now that maybe she’d gone a little too far in the opposite direction, trading in an interesting life for the confines of a law-abiding one.
She’d become too good at avoiding trouble.
She could back out now, while Kyle was unlocking his front door.
And then what?
She’d spend the rest of her life—or at least the rest of the long, lonely weekend—regretting her caution. This was a night that begged for action.
Kyle would be her Christmas gift to herself. She’d been working hard to stay under control, depriving herself, and now she deserved a night of wild, guilt-free sex.
Didn’t she? She could even call it career development, since she’d gotten so far out of touch with her sensual that she’d started feeling like a fraud in the sex software business.
He stepped aside so she could enter the apartment, and once they were both in, he switched on a lamp.
“Are you sure about this?” she asked halfheartedly, her self-control in its death throes.
“You want to stop?” he asked, taking a step closer to her and brushing a strand of hair away from her cheek.
“Hell, no.”
She ached, she burned, she nearly hummed with the anticipation of finally getting Kyle up against her, inside her, all over her for a night.
Yasmine shrugged off her velvet dress coat and let it fall to the floor, as Kyle dropped their Chinese takeout on a nearby table and turned to her. He removed his tie, then his vest, letting both fall near their feet.
He pulled her to him and gave her what was possibly the hottest kiss she’d ever had. His tongue danced with hers while his hands explored her, down her sides, over her butt. He lifted up her dress and cupped her black-lace-encased backside, handling her possessively, as if staking a claim to his territory.
Then he lifted her up and pinned her against the door, his hips pressed between her legs, pushing her dress up around her waist. Yasmine squirmed, wanting him even closer.
“Do you have protection?” she asked when they finally broke their kiss.
“In the bathroom.” But he made no move to end their embrace.
Instead, his hands traveled up her rib cage to cup her breasts. She’d noticed him admiring them earlier, as most men did, and she’d been plagued by images of Alex kissing her breasts ever since.
His fingertips teased her nipples, coaxing them into a rock-hard state. “You’re beautiful,” he murmured.
“So are you.”
His gaze took on a hint of amusement. “Oh, yeah?”
Then he kissed her again. He carried her down the hallway to a bedroom, where he tossed her on the bed.
“I’ll be right back,” he said, and disappeared into the bathroom.
Yasmine glanced down at her rumpled state and sighed. Clothes were only going to get in the way, so she got up and hurriedly undressed down to her matching bra and panties, her thigh-high stockings and heels. Then she climbed onto the bed again and arranged herself just so.
When Kyle returned, he stopped in his tracks, his gaze darkening as he took in her appearance. He closed the distance between them, dropped a box of condoms next to her, and stood at the edge of the bed as he stripped out of his clothes. Yasmine watched in appreciation as every inch of flesh she’d been spending too much time at work imagining was finally revealed to her in all its glory.
No Playboy bunny tattoo, thankfully.
Naked, he climbed on top of her and molded his body to hers. His erection pressed against her panties, creating a delicious pressure where she wanted it most.
Okay, so maybe doing it with a pretty-boy wasn’t so bad. Maybe she needed to revisit her rules for guy selection, if having a guy as gorgeous as Kyle in her bed got her this hot.
His hair tickled her cheek as he bent to kiss her, and she wrapped her arms and legs around him, wanting all of him at once.
“You like it hot and nasty?” he whispered.
That’s what she’d said at the party, after all. “Hot and nasty, slow and sweet—whatever the situation calls for.”
He rolled them over so that she was on top, and she knew the situation tonight definitely called for the kind of sex where they’d both break a sweat. There was no other way, when she wanted him this badly, this urgently.
She took off her panties, and he freed her of the bra in one skilled flick of his wrist. Then she straddled his hips and pressed herself against him, testing her own will.
It wasn’t very strong.
With her gaze locked on his, she edged her way down until she was between his legs and her breath caressed his cock. She licked the length of him, and air whooshed from his lungs. She took him all the way in her mouth, and his hands grasped the blanket beneath them as he strained toward her. She trailed her tongue up and down, then around, savoring the hot, hard feel of him, loving the power she held over his body.
Tickling his balls with her fingernails, she quickened her pace, then slowed again when she could feel him tensing more.
“Yasmine,” he said, more a moan than a word. “Please.”
She stopped. “Please what?”
“I want you,” he whispered.
“Now?”
“Now.”
She grabbed the box of condoms, removed one, then opened the packet with her teeth. When she took his erection in her hand, their gazes met again for a moment.
She slid the condom on him, taking her time, playing her fingers along the ridges of his cock, exploring new territory. He was big, really big. Deliciously big. Her fingers grazed his balls again, and his eyes fluttered shut as he expelled a sigh of pleasure.
He did have tan lines, at his waist and on his thighs, but the most obvious ones were on his forearms, at his wrists.
“You surf?” she asked, imagining how cold the water must be this time of year, certainly cold enough to warrant a full-body wet suit.
“Yeah. You?”
“Hell, no. I like to look at the ocean, not get in it.”
He smiled. “It’s not so bad once you’re out there. Maybe I could give you lessons sometime.”
“I’ve got a different kind of sport in mind for us.”
His eyebrows quirked. “Something you need lessons for?”
“I don’t think I do. I’ve had some practice,” she said, straddling him again, then rocking her hips, rubbing her slick, wet center against his cock.
“Practice makes perfect.” His gaze was locked on hers as he lifted her hips and buried himself deep inside her.
Yasmine expelled a pent-up breath as he stretched her, as the sweet burning of her body molding to him became the single thought on her mind.
She covered his hands with hers as he massaged her breasts, and she began rocking her hips in a steady rhythm, getting to know his moves as he got to know hers. Tossing her hair over one shoulder, it became a curtain over their hands, over her breast.
Men loved her hair, she knew, and she’d always kept it long because it made her different. Alex took a chunk of it and roped it around his hand, gently exploring the texture.
The thumb of his other hand dipped between her legs to massage her *, and she forgot everything but that incredible building of pressure.
Her pace quickened more as his cock probed deeper and deeper inside her, as her body coiled tighter and tighter until she knew she was only moments from climax.
And he stopped. Stilled her hips with his hands, hovering half in and half out of her.
“Not so fast,” he whispered, his own voice strained enough that she knew exactly the sort of self-control he possessed.
She leaned forward and licked his lower lip. “Finish what you’ve started.”
“Sex is like waiting for the perfect wave,” he said, then nipped her own lower lip gently with his teeth.
“I don’t remember agreeing to any lessons tonight.”
He flexed his cock inside her, creating a frenzy of sensation in her nether regions. “You’ve got to be patient,” he said. “Wait it out, and the payoff could be a ride you’ll never forget.”
ALEX FELT HIS HANDS tremble at the effort of restraining himself. His desire for Yasmine was like a force of nature, a cresting wave he could do nothing to stop, but had only to jump on and ride to shore.
And yet, he wanted to savor this. There might never be another night with this woman who’d haunted him so deeply for so long. No more careening toward the shore too quickly.
He grasped her hips and tugged her forward, tugging still when she resisted. She fell forward and kissed him, working her tongue against his the same way she’d worked it against his cock. And, damn had she ever worked his cock. It had taken every ounce of his self-control not to come in her mouth.
He broke the kiss. “I want to taste you.”
“You just did.”
“I want to taste your p-ssy.”
“Mmm, can’t argue with that,” she said, a smile playing on her damp lips.
She let him tug her hips forward then, until she was straddling his neck, holding onto the headboard for support, and he could flick out his tongue and taste her.
“Lower,” he commanded. And then he was there, his mouth against her, his tongue inside her where she was hottest.
The sound of her moans spurred him on. He took her * in his mouth and sucked gently until she was squirming and gasping, then he slipped two fingers inside her, three fingers, in and out, stretching her walls and giving her eager muscles something to contract against.
She was so close to coming, he could almost taste it—couldn’t wait to taste it. With his middle finger, he found her G-spot and caressed her there, sending her crying out over the edge.
As she swayed her hips, dripping wet against him, in the final waves of her orgasm, he felt the trembling return. Urging him forward. He couldn’t wait any longer to be inside her again.
Clasping her waist, he urged her down his torso until she was straddling his hips again. He positioned himself under her and held her still as he thrust inside. In that one thrust, all his pent-up desire, all the years of wanting her, started to find its release, and he could only hold on, savoring every sensation.
He loved the way her long hair created a peek-a-boo show with her breasts. The glimpse of her nipples, dark and erect, spurred him closer to orgasm, and the flat smooth expanse of her belly, ending in the small triangle of hair where their bodies met, sent him over the edge.
Pleasure coursed through him in waves, until he could only pull her close and catch his breath with his face nuzzled in her neck. They lay tangled together until their combined heat became uncomfortable and they broke apart to cool off.
Alex watched Yasmine, fascinated by the way pleasure softened her features. His own emotions on the heels of their lovemaking were…confused. He didn’t want to think about the possible complications.
“You know, we’ve still got dinner to eat,” he said after they’d lain in silence for a short while, finally hungry now that he’d had his temporary fill of Yasmine.
“Oh, right,” she rolled over and stretched. “I am hungry now that you mention it.”
They climbed out of bed, and Alex pulled an old William and Mary College shirt out of his dresser drawer, then tossed it to Yasmine. He watched as she tugged it on, admiring the curves of her body one more time before they were hidden by the baggy shirt. She found her panties on the floor and put those on, too, as he dressed himself in a pair of reindeer-print boxers and a black tee.
She smiled at his boxers. “Cute.”
“Me or the reindeer?”
“Both. I like a man who can wear goofy underwear.”
“All in the spirit of the season.”
She followed him out of the bedroom and into the wide area that Alex used as his living area and office combined. He switched on a lamp. A wide, low cocktail table in front of the couch served as his dining room, and as he looked around the space, seeing it through Yasmine’s eyes—the bachelor-pad sparseness, the unsightly stacks of bills and magazines, the cheesy San Francisco posters that served as wall art—he had a horrible realization.
He should never have brought her to his apartment. Somehow, in the frenzy of getting her alone and naked, he’d overlooked the fact that she could stumble on any number of items here that would make it glaringly, obviously clear he was not who he pretended to be. His mail, his magazines, his drug prescriptions, all announced his name was Alex DiCarlo, and photos in his albums showed him mostly as the short-haired, clean-cut FBI agent he used to be, not the long-haired surfer he’d become.
Damn it, he was a freaking idiot. Idiot, idiot, idiot.
Before she’d come to pick him up, he’d taken a quick glance around to make sure there was no incriminating evidence lying about, so he knew the living room was at least superficially safe. But he needed to make a closer inspection, and fast.
“Sorry this place is kind of a mess,” he said.
“Don’t worry about it.” She started removing the cartons of food from the carryout bags and placing them on the cocktail table.
Making as though he was cleaning up, he grabbed the stacks of magazines and bills sitting on the end table and carried them to a closet, where he shoved them on the top shelf.
“I’ll get some silverware,” she said, heading for the kitchen.
“No, wait, I’ll get it,” he said a little too quickly. “I think I left dirty dishes on the counter.”
She gave him an odd look. “Really, it’s okay,” she said, but lowered herself to the floor beside the table.
In the kitchen, he glanced around for more incriminating evidence. The answering machine blinked at him with a message waiting, so he turned it off to avoid any disastrous “Hey, Alex” messages. A few pieces of mail lay on the counter near the phone. He grabbed them up and shoved them in a drawer beneath the phone book, then found the silverware.
“What would you like to drink?” he called into the living room. “I have beer, water, milk and OJ.”
“Guess I’ll take a beer, then.”
He emerged from the kitchen carrying two Heinekens, plates, forks and serving spoons, then arranged it all on the cocktail table.
“I need to use the bathroom,” he said. “I’ll be right back. Go ahead and start without me.”
Inside his small bathroom, he threw open the medicine cabinet and scooped out the labeled prescription medicine, then wrapped it all in a towel and stowed it in the back of the cabinet under the sink. After relieving himself and washing his hands, he went to the bedroom and gave it a quick survey for more evidence of his real identity.
For once, his lack of effort in making his apartment a personal space seemed to be paying off. The only thing he needed to hide in his bedroom was an old photo of himself and his brother, which he stowed in a dresser drawer. Entering the hallway again, he bumped into Yasmine leaving the bathroom.
“Just needed to wash my hands,” she said. “What are you doing?”
“Hiding some dirty laundry from you.”
She grinned. “I’ve been in bachelor pads before. Socks on the floor are not going to shock me.”
“I’d at least like your first impression to be something besides ‘hopeless slob.’”
“Trust me, your first impression is safe,” she said, glancing down at his crotch—or was it his reindeer boxers?
“What’s that supposed to mean?” he said as he followed her down the short hallway.
She turned and slid her arms around his waist, peering up at him. “It means, when you give a girl the kind of ride you just gave me, she’s not going to give a damn what your apartment looks like.”
His cock, predictable as it was, stirred against her abdomen. At the same time, his stomach growled, and she glanced down at the sound.
“We’d better feed you so you’ll have energy for later.”
For later. A jolt of satisfaction shot through him to know that there’d be more, that this wasn’t just a one-shot deal.
In the living room again, Alex grabbed two large pillows from the sofa and tossed them on the area rug as makeshift floor pillows. “Dining doesn’t get any finer than this,” he said as he motioned for her to sit.
She smiled. “I’m a simple girl. Great sex, good carryout—it doesn’t take a lot to make me happy.”
They dug into the food and ate in silence for a few minutes. Alex hadn’t realized just how hungry he was until he’d devoured most of his shrimp fried rice and looked up to see Yasmine staring at his work space on the other side of the room.
“Looks like you’ve got a whole business set up there,” she said, and the food in his stomach turned to stone.
He did all his security business work from home, and if she looked closely enough, she’d be able to figure it out.
He shrugged. “I’m a computer geek—what can I say?”
“Bet my system’s better than your system,” she taunted.
“Did you build it yourself?”
“Yeah, you?”
He nodded. “Play your cards right and I might show you what’s inside the CPU case, water-cooled system and all.”
“We’re verging on sounding like the world’s biggest geeks, you know.”
“Yeah.” He grinned. “We should stop while we’re still ahead.”
She cast a curious glance at him. “What exactly are we doing here?”
“Eating fried rice and Kung Pao chicken?”
“I mean you and me. Are we going to pretend this never happened come Tuesday?”
“I know the whole sleeping-with-a-coworker thing can get awkward,” he said, buying time until he could think of the best angle.
“Maybe we should establish some ground rules.”
“Is this a one-night thing?” he asked, hoping like hell it wasn’t. “Or do you see this happening again?”
She smiled and glanced down at his bare feet. “You do have nice feet,” she said.
He slid his foot closer, then trailed his toes along her inner thigh until they made contact with her panties. He found her * with his big toe and massaged, watching as her eyes fluttered shut.
“Mmm,” she moaned, letting her fork clatter onto the plate.
“Are you avoiding my question?” he teased, pushing aside the narrow crotch of her panties and slipping his toe inside her.
“No…not avoiding…” She reached down and stilled his foot, then gently pushed it away, still holding it between her legs. “If you keep that up, we’ll never finish dinner.”
“Just reminding you of what you could be missing out on.”
She stroked his wet toe with her fingertips. “Does that mean you want this to be more than a one-night thing?”
“I figure, I’m alone this weekend, you’re alone—”
“We might as well keep each other company,” she filled in.
Alex heaved a sigh of relief. “Exactly. I can understand the need for ground rules. Like, no talking about what happens this weekend with coworkers.”
“Do we need to set some kind of time limit to keep things simple? Like, when the weekend is finished, so are we?”
It was a rule that worked to his advantage, giving him time to find out the truth about Yasmine, then extract himself from her life before any messy emotions got involved. So he had no idea why her suggestion felt like a punch to the gut. Had to be stupid male pride getting in the way.
“That sounds fair, but we could always reevaluate later.”
“And no hard feelings after the fact. We go back to work, and we’re friends. Deal?”
He extended his pinky finger, and she intertwined hers with his. “Deal,” he said.
Then they shook on it.