Sinful Desire

*

He scooped her up and set her down on the seat, still woozy from his own climax. But he wasn’t so sex-drunk that he couldn’t focus on taking care of her. Before pulling up his briefs, he unknotted her panties from her feet, untied her from her purse, set the bag down on the seat, and held up her wrists.

“How do they feel?”

She shot him a sly grin. “The purse is made of only the finest leather, so they feel quite fine.”

He laughed, and dropped a kiss to her forehead, then tucked himself back in. She pulled her panties on, glancing down at them. “Hmm. They are a little stretched. But I don’t regret it.”

“Neither do I. And I promise to replace them immediately.” He tipped his head to the bar. “Champagne?”

“I’d love some. You should have some, too, especially since you don’t have to do bone graft surgery tonight. Or so I presume.”

“No. I don’t. Lucky me,” he said, then poured two glasses from the bar, and handed one to her. He clinked his flute to hers then wrapped an arm around her, rubbing her shoulder and her neck as they chatted and drank the bubbly beverage while they drove around the city with no destination and no goal but time together in a long, sleek car.

Later, he had the driver take her to the front door of her building. He stepped out of the car with her, and before she left, he reached for her hand, and kissed the top of it.

“You’re beautiful. And dirty. And clever. And you take direction like a very good girl.”

She batted her eyes in an over-the-top way as she sidled up against him. “Does that mean I’ve earned the dog photo?”

He squeezed her ass, savoring once more the way it felt in the palm of his hand. “You have absolutely earned it.” Then he let go and looked her in the eyes, surprising himself a bit with the words that escaped his mouth. “So what would you think about a third date?”

For a moment he was nervous. He desperately wanted her yes, even though he was as sure as a man could be that he’d get it.

She shot him that bright, gorgeous smile that could light up a night sky. “I think I’d wonder how you plan on topping the first two, because they’ve been spectacular. So I’d say yes out of curiosity.”

As the driver headed for his house, he tried to keep his mind blank to avoid the litany of questions he wanted to ask himself. But when Johnny Cash greeted him at the door, the questions tumbled free as he petted the dog’s head. “What am I doing? What the hell am I doing? Because I am counting down the hours ’til I see her again.”

The dog thumped his tail on the floor and whined. A sign he had to pee.

Ryan took him to the backyard and wished he didn’t like Sophie so much already.





Chapter Eleven


from: [email protected]

to: [email protected]

date: July 15, 6:37 AM

subject: Rise and shine…

Took this just now after our morning run. Hence, the tongue lolling out of his mouth. And yeah, you can say it. He’s adorable.

from: [email protected]

to: [email protected]

date: July 15, 8:34 AM

subject: Some of us sleep in

OMG he is so cute. I’m in love with your dog.

from: [email protected]

to: [email protected]

date: July 15, 8:45 AM

subject: Did I wear you out last night?

He has that effect on women.

from: [email protected]

to: [email protected]

date: July 15, 9:04 AM

subject: Maybe I just need my beauty sleep…

He is so handsome. If he were mine I’d dress him in a cool leather jacket. Or maybe a sweater. A trendy sweater. Like a cardigan. With an elbow patch.

from: [email protected]

to: [email protected]

date: July 16, 9:17 AM

subject: You’re naturally beautiful

He will never wear clothes. I assure you.

from: [email protected]

to: [email protected]

date: July 15, 9:21 AM

subject: Now I’m blushing

What about a vest? I once knit a vest for my cat when I was in high school, back when I thought I was going to be a fashion designer rather than a geek-girl coder.

From his home office, with the AC blasting and his black and white dog crashed at his feet on the hardwood floor, Ryan laughed softly at Sophie’s email and the image of her knitting a vest for a pet. His mom used to make jackets for dogs for fun for friends and neighbors. She’d sewn a forest green jacket with a dog bone design on the back and declared it her lottery ticket.

“Someday I will no longer be merely the seamstress to local high school gymnasts and showgirls. I’ll make jackets for dogs. This will be my mark on the world,” his mom had declared, holding up the small coat proudly.

She’d made her mark on the world, all right. But not in the way she’d intended. Still, she’d asked him to hold onto the pattern for the dog jacket.