5
ALEX FELT SOMETHING warm and soft against him. He shifted his weight toward the warmth and came in contact with solid flesh. He opened his eyes and saw the back of Yasmine’s head, her dark hair spilling over the pillow.
Then the memories of last night came flooding in. Flesh against flesh, tangled limbs, hot kisses, even hotter sex. They’d kept going until his leg muscles trembled and his body was spent. Then they’d collapsed on the bed, in each other’s arms, and slept the night away.
He yawned and stretched. From the window, light poured in, diffused by fog.
It was Christmas Eve, and morning fog was about as winter wonderland as San Francisco weather got.
This was normally one of Alex’s favorite days of the year, but this year, the holiday promised to be memorably different if it played out the way he hoped. If he convinced Yasmine to let him spend the night—maybe the whole weekend—at her place….
Next to him, she stirred. Her leg moved against his, the satin skin of her thigh warming him, then she rolled onto her back and peered at him through half-lidded eyes. In the morning light, with her makeup gone and her hair a mess, she looked amazing.
“Hey,” he said, his voice groggy from sleep.
He hated that he was so mesmerized by her, even after all these years. She had the power to make him lose his mind.
“Hey, yourself,” she whispered, eyeing his bare chest. “Did we, um, do something last night?”
“You don’t remember?”
Her straight face gave way to a smile. “Sorry, bad joke. Yes, I remember.”
She traced his jaw with her fingers and then leaned forward and placed a kiss on his lips. “Last night was fun.”
“Mmm-hmm. You have any big last-minute shopping plans today?”
“Actually, no plans at all other than hanging out with you.”
This was his chance, but there was a risk of overplaying his hand. She wore a blissed-out expression, though, that told him now was the time, while the memories of their night together were still hot and vivid.
He slid his hand across her belly, a featherlight touch that caused her nipples to harden. Up her rib cage his hand went, then to her breasts where he traced her areolas with his fingertips.
“What do you say we spend the day in bed?”
She smiled and arched her back, stretching her arms over her head. “I’d say you’ve got filthy intentions toward me.”
She draped her leg over his and rolled onto him, resting her chin on his chest.
“I might say the same thing about you.”
She ground her hips against him, and he could feel the hot dampness between her legs on his thigh. Instantly he grew hard.
“I think I made my intentions pretty clear last night,” she said.
“Are you always so bold?” he asked, though he was pretty sure he knew the answer—that she was much too bold for her own good.
And why that caused him a pang of concern, he couldn’t say.
“Maybe. Are you always so good in bed?”
“With the right woman.”
Though last night was not usual. He’d been on fire as he’d never been before. That’s what happened, he supposed, when he spent a decade waiting and wanting a woman he knew he shouldn’t have.
She was even better than he’d imagined.
But there were so many fantasies he’d entertained. So many ways he’d imagined taking her, pleasuring her, having her to do with as he pleased. He’d need the whole weekend to do those fantasies justice, no doubt, and he’d need just as much time to find the truth he was looking for.
“I guess it would be tacky to not even get out of bed on Christmas Eve,” she said.
“I don’t know. I mean, as long as we’re together, it sort of goes along with the spirit of giving, right?”
“Actually, maybe we could take this back to my place. I’ve got a cat who needs to be fed.”
Thank heaven for cats.
“Sounds good to me,” he said, all casual and aloof, as though she hadn’t just invited him to snoop around in her life.
Her hand was traveling down his chest, and by the time she made it to his erection, he’d forgotten what he’d been thinking about.
“There’s no big hurry. The cat can wait a few hours, but I, on the other hand…”
She gripped him and began to massage.
Then she started kissing his chest, biting his nipples, moving lower, and lower still. Alex closed his eyes and let all coherent thought fade away.
She made it to his cock and drew him into her mouth again. Soft satin lips caressed, teased, worked him toward climax all too quickly. But then she slowed down, dragged her teeth gently along his length until he squirmed and shuddered and couldn’t take another second of not being inside her.
“Stop,” he said, gasping.
“You don’t like?”
“I like,” he whispered as he reached for another condom, opened the package and slid it on. “I definitely like.”
He liked it too damn much.
He grasped her arms and tugged her up on top of him. Gripping her ass and shifting her hips, he buried his cock between her legs and pushed himself inside her. She was hot, sweet, wet and tight, even better the morning after.
For the first time since he’d set this crazy plan into motion, he understood the biggest danger of all. It wasn’t Yasmine discovering his true identity. It was the danger of never wanting to let her go.
YASMINE COULDN’T REMEMBER the last time she’d felt so thoroughly satisfied. And if the rest of the weekend proved to be anything like the past twelve hours, she might never want to let Kyle out of bed.
But then, keeping him as her love slave definitely would be breaking some kind of law, crossing a line she’d never be able to cross. A girl could dream, anyway.
She was about to step into the shower with Kyle, who was already there, lathered up and looking even better wet than he did dry, when she heard her cell phone ringing in the next room. Only a few people had her number and knew not to call unless it was completely necessary, so she hurried to answer.
“Hello?” she said after she’d dug the phone out of her purse, gripping the towel around herself.
“It’s Cass. I need you to fix my computer, ASAP.”
“You’re calling my cell phone about your computer? Is this an actual emergency?”
“Yes!”
“Um, I’m kind of tied up right now,” she said, glancing at Kyle standing dripping wet and naked in the bathroom doorway now, threatening to make her forget how to string words into coherent sentences.
“Please help me! I’ve got that dinner party tonight, and all the recipes I want to use are on the Internet.”
“And?”
“And when I try to log on, nothing happens. No Internet!”
Any other time Yasmine would have been a little more tolerant of Cass’s computer ineptitude, but this time she expelled a noisy sigh and said, “I’m sorry I can’t help. Maybe you should buy a cookbook.”
“You’re just going to leave me hanging? On Christmas Eve? Your best friend?”
Drew popped into her head—Drew, whom she knew would be a great guy for Cass. If Cass could overlook the slightly nerdy appearance to see the nice guy beneath.
“I’ve got a friend who lives not too far from you and might be free to help you out. I could call him and ask.”
“Please, please, please?”
“On one condition.”
“Anything—you name it.”
“If he fixes your computer, you ask him out on a date.”
Silence. And then Cass said, “Okay, what’s the matter with this guy that he needs you bribing women to go out with him?”
“He’s the guy I mentioned to you. He’s nice. Give him a chance.”
“I told you, I don’t do nerds.”
“That’s my condition. You ask him out, go on a date with him, give him a real chance or no computer help for you.”
“I had no idea you could play so dirty.”
“Like I said, you could go buy a cookbook.”
“I had all my recipes picked out and bookmarked on that cooking Web site you showed me.”
“Should have printed them, huh?”
Yasmine bit her lip to keep from laughing. Kyle was leaning against the door frame now with his arms crossed over his chest, half-smiling as he listened to her conversation. Oddly, she liked him listening in. She found it somehow familiar and intimate in a way she hadn’t been with a guy in too long.
Cass, apparently finished stewing, sighed. “Fine. If he can come fix my computer, I’ll ask him out. And if he’s cute, I’ll take him to bed and screw his brains out.”
“No charity sex. Just be open to possibilities, okay? If he’s home, I’ll have him call you and set up a time to come over. If he’s not available, I’ll call you back.”
She hung up with Cass and gave Kyle an apologetic smile. “I’ll be finished in a sec.”
“Playing matchmaker?”
She shrugged. “I promised Drew I’d hook him up, and as you can see from his date last night, he needs all the help he can get.”
“I’ll be waiting in the tub—hurry up,” he said as he gave her a once-over. “Lose the towel.”
Yasmine dialed Drew’s number, and luckily he picked up. In a mere two minutes, she’d confirmed he was free and set him up to meet Cass. Satisfied that her matchmaker work was done for the day, she turned off her cell phone to save herself any more unwelcome interruptions and headed for the bathroom.
An hour and a steamy round of shower sex later, Yasmine and Kyle were clean and dressed, rejuvenated by doughnuts and coffee, and pulling into a parking spot in front of Yasmine’s apartment. She couldn’t think what they’d do or talk about all day if not for sex, but hey, if sex was all they had in common, she’d be the last girl to complain. Because it was really, really good.
Outside the car, houses in her neighborhood glinted here and there with Christmas lights, while just as many were decidedly unfestive looking. Her own building, a blue and green Victorian that had long ago been converted to four puny apartments, was one of the unfestive variety, since it was inhabited by a Buddhist couple, a pagan and two lazy singles—including Yasmine—who couldn’t be bothered with decorations.
She had an odd sense that she’d embarked on some kind of escape from reality with Kyle, as though she was seeing her own neighborhood with the fresh eyes of a tourist. And maybe that’s what she needed to break out of the doldrums that had settled on her lately—a wild little escape from reality. Maybe this change of perspective would appease her bad-girl urges and she’d be able to return to her rule-following, law-abiding—albeit boring—life with no more tempting whispers from that quarter.
Or maybe she’d just finally be able to finish her current software project with a renewed sense of creativity.
She led Kyle up the stairs and into her apartment, feeling a tiny bit embarrassed that she hadn’t even gotten a tabletop tree.
“So this is my place,” she said, making a sweeping motion.
The cinnamon-colored walls, the iron grillwork she’d arranged as wall decor, the purple sofa, the middle-eastern fabrics draped over the tables and arm of the sofa—it all added up to a warm, cozy place that was distinctly hers. She loved her apartment, small and creaky as it was, and she’d worked her ass off making it a home.
“Nice,” Kyle said as he surveyed the living room. “Makes my place look like a crap hole.”
She tried not to laugh but failed. “Maybe you could use a little decorating help—not that I’m volunteering for the job or anything. You can pay people to do that for you.”
Her Siamese cat, Milo, darted out from his perch on the window and raced across the room, skidding to a stop in the kitchen doorway. He looked up at her with his haughty blue eyes and yowled.
“He’s trying to convince me he nearly starved to death during my absence.”
“Hey, kitty,” Kyle said as he crouched down and extended his hand to the cat, who in turn stood up on his hind legs and swatted at Kyle’s hand.
“Milo, behave!” She said to the cat, and to Kyle, “Don’t worry, I got him at the shelter and his previous owner had his claws removed. He can bite, but he lives under the delusion that he’s still a fierce, clawed warrior.”
She went to the kitchen and filled the cat’s bowls with food and water, then returned to find Milo still with Kyle, letting him stroke his back.
“Wow, you should feel privileged.”
He shrugged. “Animals like me.”
“So do women,” she said as he stood up. She slid her hands around his waist and pressed her body against him.
“I’m mainly concerned about one particular woman right now.”
“Oh? Well, the one I know of is liking you really, really well.”
He cast a glance at the gifts she’d brought in from the car for him that he still hadn’t opened. “I was going to suggest you put those under the tree, but there’s not a tree. Do you have maybe a house plant or something we could decorate?”
“We should get a tree, you think? To celebrate properly?”
Kyle gave her a look. “That is the tradition.”
“I didn’t see any point in putting one up if it was just going to be for me.”
“But add a person, and you gotta have a tree.”
“Right. I think there’s a lot a few blocks over that’s selling live trees. This late in the game, though, we might get stuck with the Charlie Brown variety.”
Given Yasmine’s sad little collection of leftover ornaments that she hadn't used in her cubicle, acquired as gifts from various people over the years and mostly not removed from their original packaging, an ugly tree was better—it would keep her ornaments from looking so pathetic.
“Maybe we can find a little tabletop one,” she said.
“Oh come on, I like a nice, big tree. Maybe an eight-or nine-footer.”
She looked at him as though he’d lost it. “Are you decorating the White House or my apartment?”
“Okay, let’s say we see what kind of selection is left.”
“We might also want to grab lunch out. My apartment is sadly lacking in the food department.”
“That cat food smell is giving me a weird craving,” Kyle said.
Yasmine wrinkled her nose. “For what? Horse meat?”
“For clam chowder in those sourdough bowls like the tourists eat down at Fisherman’s Wharf.”
“Cat food reminds you of that?”
“After we pick up a tree, want to take a streetcar there and be tourists today?”
“God, I can’t remember the last time I was down there.”
“And we could shop for some more gifts to put under the tree….”
Yasmine smiled at the idea of taking a streetcar and playing tourists. “Should we put on white sneakers and jeans and I ‘heart’ San Francisco T-shirts so we’ll blend in with the crowd?”
He made a face. “I wouldn’t go that far.”
“Promise to buy me a San Francisco snow globe, and you’ve got yourself a date.”