Red-Hot Nights: Daring in the Dark

“I don’t have a chivalrous bone in my body. I’m stating the obvious. You’re beautiful and sexy and Elliott’s an idiot,” Simon said.

Tawny opened her mouth to argue the point and Simon interrupted her.

“Perhaps this will convince you,” he said, lowering his head and capturing her mouth.

TAWNY TASTED LIKE EXACTLY what she was—forbidden fruit. Sweet, hot, drugging, addictive. He felt her hesitation and surprise, tasted the brine of her tears.

Simon pulled away from her mouth and the temptation to plunder and explore. He raked his hand through his hair. “That was out of line. I apologize.”

She shook her head. “No.” She linked her arms around his neck and pulled his head back down to hers. “Please don’t apologize,” she said, her breath warming him. Her lips molded to his and a fantasy came to life. Tawny kissed him, hard and hot.

He knew she was angry with Elliott. Knew he was payback. Knew he should walk away. But while his head said one thing, his heart said another. God help him, he returned her kiss. Six months of pent-up passion unleashed within him. He’d lived with fantasies. And now he held the flesh-and-blood embodiment of those fantasies in his arms.

Her tongue probed at his lips and the last vestige of his resistence deserted him. He buried his hands in her hair and crushed her to him. She strained against him, her anger, her frustration almost palpable. And then it was gone, replaced by something less volatile—and far more dangerous. She softened, her mouth now giving rather than taking. Offering. He took and gave in return.

Simon slid his hands from her hair and stroked down the satin warmth of her bare shoulders. She moaned into his mouth and shuddered against him.

Reason took a holiday. He sank back onto the couch and she followed him, lying against him, between his thighs. Her hips pressed against an erection he couldn’t deny. Her fingers winnowed through his hair as he thoroughly explored the hot sweetness of her mouth. He plied his hands along the sexy curve of her back. He would love to photograph the lovely curve of her neck, bared by her upswept hair that led to the sinuous line of her back. He touched her with the reverence of an artist and the appreciation of a man.

The intensity of her kiss shook him. She pressed against his erection in supplication and he groaned into her mouth. He filled his hands with the full roundness of her buttocks and pulled her harder against him. She slid one leg over his, straddling his thigh, opening herself to him.

He ran his fingers along the silk of her thighs, his knuckles brushing against the edge of her panties. Oh, sweet heaven, they were wet.

“Oh, Simon,” she moaned into his mouth, “you always make me …”

She provided a voice-activated sanity check. He wrenched away from her and steadied himself on one elbow, although she remained between his thighs. What the hell was he doing? He’d been one second away from slipping his finger beneath the elastic of her panties and touching her intimately. He gulped air and sought some measure of his control that had been woefully missing a few seconds ago.

Tawny remained atop him, her body pressed intimately against his. Her arousal, mingled with her perfume, was a heady scent.

“I’m sorry,” he said. And just how sorry was he with one hand still on her delectable bottom? He jerked his hand away and rubbed his brow.

She scooted to the other end of the couch. He sat up, missing the press of her between his thighs, as if a vital part of him had been amputated.

Tears still clung to her lashes. Passion weighted her lids. His kisses had left her lips swollen and ripe.

“I’m really sorry,” he repeated. “I didn’t mean to … that shouldn’t have … I got out of hand.”

“Please don’t apologize, Simon. You didn’t exactly force yourself on me. I crawled on top of you.” She looked away from him, throwing the fine line of her nose and the curve of her cheek into shadowy relief. “You must think I’m a slut.”

He rubbed the back of his neck, contrite. He had the utmost respect for her—slut had never crossed his mind. He’d kissed her to show her how desirable she was, because telling hadn’t worked. Instead he’d further compromised her self-esteem.

“Never. You were upset, I was out of line and it won’t happen again. I never meant to take advantage of you.”

She shook her head. “You didn’t take advantage of me. I was the one out of line.” She touched his hand and then jerked back when she realized what she’d done. “I don’t want you to be uncomfortable. I won’t throw myself at you again.”

He almost pointed out that she should have a very good idea of just how much he’d enjoyed it since she had been riding the ridge of his erection. It had left him hard, but it had by no means posed a hardship. His body screamed that she could throw herself at him any day, any way, any time.

Tawny curled up, tucking one foot beneath her. She smoothed her fingers over the back of the couch. “Did you know about Elliott?”

Elliott. Much better than discussing that kiss. “No. On either count. He’s never even hinted at being gay or at being interested in someone other than you.”

Although maybe the signs had been there but Simon had been too obtuse to see them. Elliott was a bastard for cheating on her and dragging Simon into it, but Simon believed Elliott cared for Tawny. Right now she was hurt and betrayed, but she must still care for Elliott. As a friend, it was his role to ensure neither Tawny nor Elliott did anything rash regarding their future that they’d later regret. That’s how a man of honor would behave.

She huffed out a breath. “I don’t feel quite so stupid if you didn’t have a clue either.”

“I thought he was joking when he first told me.”

“Well, I know he couldn’t have possibly orchestrated a blackout, but how convenient for him. This way he could stick you with telling me, the scum-sucking son of a bitch.”

He bit back a laugh. She definitely had a colorful way with the English language. He didn’t want this woman pissed at him. “I know you’re hurt. I would be, too. But in the morning you’ll feel differently about all of this. You and Elliott can work this out.”

She crossed her arms over her chest, which did incredible things to her already pretty damn incredible cleavage, and directed a haughty look his way.

“Why don’t you ring him?” Simon tried again. He’d spent enough time around women to know that talking, venting, was a big deal. And Elliott, who avoided confrontation at every opportunity, certainly wasn’t going to initiate a conversation. “Talk to him. I’ll go in the other room and give you some privacy.”

She threw up a staying hand, her nose in the air. “Not going to happen. I have nothing to say to Elliott. Well, maybe a thing or two, but not while he’s there with his new lover.” She shook her head. “No thanks. And I don’t even want to think about what they’re probably doing right now.”

“That makes two of us,” Simon said without thinking.

“And what’s there to say other than he’s a two-timer who better not have given me some communicable disease he picked up while he was out screwing around?”

“He says it was safe sex.”

“I hope he’s not lying about that,” she said.

“No. I asked him bluntly.”

“That’s a relief. So other than the satisfaction of cussing him out, I don’t need to talk to him. There’s no going back and there’s no going forward. We’re playing on a whole different ball field now. I’d had some doubts in the last couple of weeks and this just nailed it.”

Had she really been having doubts? His skepticism must’ve shown.

“I can tell what you’re thinking. Sure that’s a convenient way for me to save face, but it’s true. Ever since I started having—” she stopped as if she’d almost said something she shouldn’t “—well, second thoughts. And I’ve had an increasing sense of Elliott trying to shape me into what he wanted me to be.”

Elliott had laughingly said once on a double date that he possessed a better sense of style than Tawny. Simon also recalled another comment that Elliott needed to take her shopping. Both times Simon had thought Elliott out of line and far off the mark. Simon liked her sense of style. He wasn’t quite sure what to say. “Elliott has very specific ideas.”

“Uh-huh. Trust me. My parents have been trying to mold me long enough. I recognize the signs. Regardless, Elliott and I are history.”

Which left her a free agent and him still constrained by the bounds of friendship.

5

COULD SHE HAVE POSSIBLY made it any clearer than if she’d held up a sign inviting him to kiss her again? And again. And then take it further. To pick up where he’d left off, with his fingers brushing against her wet panties.

They both obviously wanted one another. He’d felt her damp underwear and she’d felt his rock-hard erection. And she’d just told him in no uncertain terms that she no longer had a future with Elliott.

Simon’s hair stood up at the crown where she’d run her fingers through it. She rather liked it because it made him much less intimidating and proved him human.

“People say and do a lot of things they don’t really mean when they’re angry,” he said in the tone of a peacemaker.