Play with Me

Wanted him. Liked him. Two points checked off her mental I’m-no-slut-and-don’t-have-one-night-stands list.

Tonight was looking better by the minute.

“It worked on me, by the way.” He leaned back farther in the seat, turning a little to stare at her. The dim reflections from streetlights they passed striped his handsome features in light and shadow. His breaths created tiny vapors in the chilly air that couldn’t be banished by the car’s weakly blowing heater. His voice was low, thick as he promised, “Because I’m looking forward to proving you wrong, Amanda.”

Her heart skipped a beat. Just one. Something about the way her name rode softly, smoothly, on his exhalation, thrilled her. But she managed to keep her own breaths even. “Oh?”

He nodded. “There’s nothing boring about what’s going to happen between us.”

A shiver of excitement coursed through her. It started with her lips, which quivered and parted, then moved down her entire body, which suddenly felt so much more … alert, somehow. The cold was more biting, the coat scratchy against her bare thighs. Her breasts tingled under the slick, polyester fabric of her blouse, the sensation sensual against her tight nipples.

Excitement had awakened every inch of her. It had been there, sparking right beneath the surface, for hours, since she’d first spied him on that tarmac back in Pittsburgh. Now the spark had caught and spread into a wildfire of interest and arousal, even though he hadn’t touched her.

He knew. He had to know. The very air seemed thick with her sudden certainty of just how much she wanted the man. That certainty must have communicated itself to him with her shallow, audible breaths, the almost imperceptible way she leaned closer to him, irresistibly drawn to his heat. His size. His scent.

The big, strong hand sliding into her hair and cupping her head came as no surprise. She smiled in anticipation as he turned her face, tilted her chin up, then bent toward her. Their breaths mingled in the cold evening air and an almost tangible sizzle of excitement preceded the initial meeting of their lips.

A heartbeat later, the cold air disappeared. Nothing separated them at all.

Their first kiss was no tentative brush of lip on lip, nor was there any hesitation, or even a gasp at the thrill of it. It was instead strong and wet. Sensuous. Confident and hungry, Reese parted his lips and slid his tongue against hers, tasting deeply, thoroughly, with enjoyment but not desperation.

Enjoyment could easily lead to desperation, she had no doubt. But despite the fact that they were in the backseat of a random cab, and had a one-man audience, courtesy of the rearview mirror, Amanda didn’t care.

She wanted this. Craved it. So she didn’t resist or even hesitate. Instead, she reacted with pure instinct, wrapping her arms around his neck. Tilting her head to the side, she silently invited him deeper. She moaned at the delights provided by his soft tongue, tasting him and exploring the inside of his mouth.

He was warm and solid, the spicy, masculine smell of him filling her head even as his heat against her body chased away any last remnants of chill.

Finally, he ended the kiss, slowly pulling away far enough to stare down into her eyes. She saw want there. And something else—excitement. Pleasure.

His lips quirked. And she saw even more: self-confidence. He confirmed it with a broad, satisfied smile.

“This is going to be so much fun.”

“The party?”

He shook his head. “You and me.”

3

ALMOST FROM THE MOMENT they’d met, Reese had known he was heading in one direction: toward Amanda Bauer’s bed.

They were going to have sex. Soon.

Reese knew it. Amanda knew it. The two of them were savoring that knowledge, building the anticipation as the evening wore on.

He’d done his bit for the business. Then, when old Mr. Braddock and his family had left for the night, he’d taken off his official Campbell’s Lager title and gone back to being Reese, the man who’d picked up his sexy personal pilot.

Every look asked and answered the same question. Every smile was a seduction, each casual word a hidden code and every brief brush of hand on hand had become the most sensual foreplay. The way they intentionally tried not to touch more intimately increased the incredible tension, each non-caress promised unimaginable pleasure when they finally did come together.

Reese couldn’t remember a time in his life when he’d been more excited by a woman. He just knew, as he stared at her across the crowded bar, that he’d never desired one more.

They hadn’t kissed again since that brief encounter in the cab. They hadn’t needed to. The want they were both feeling had been building by the minute.

When they’d danced, and his hand cupped her hip, or her thigh slid against his, the anticipation of how this night was going to end had nearly sent him out of his mind.

It had also sent him in search of something to try to calm down his body’s heated reactions.

“So, are you supposed to be, like, the president or something?”

Reese didn’t bother glancing over at the vapid little redhead dressed as a sex kitten—one of at least a dozen in the packed-to-bursting bar. She’d been trying to engage him in conversation for a full minute, but he was busy focusing on the dance floor. And frowning.

Because there, in the middle of a writhing crowd full of zombies and witches, mad scientists and vampy angels, was his sexy stewardess … dancing with another guy. He’d made his move when Reese had gone in search of a cold shower, but had had to make do with a cold glass of water.

“Or, like, a James Bond spy?”

Right. ’Cause James Bond always wore stupid navy blue uniforms and captain’s wings on his lapel.

“You’re way too hot to be an accountant or something.”

“Pilot,” he mumbled, barely paying attention. All his attention was focused on Amanda.

She looked better than any woman in the place as she shook her stuff with a man Reese recognized as one of Braddock’s low-level employees. Steve something or other.

Reese had never had a problem with him—at least not until he’d realized Steve was seriously moving in on his date.

Steve hadn’t been able to keep his covetous eyes off Amanda since the minute they’d arrived. Reese had figured the hands-off-she’s-here-with-someone-else code would prevent the other man from actually doing anything about it. But when Steve’s hand accidentally brushed Amanda’s luscious ass for a second time, Reese realized he was either too drunk, or too hot for her, to even remember the code.

He tensed, ready to stride out there and do something that could cost his company a major customer, depending on how much Mr. Braddock liked Steve, even as he wondered what this crazy, unfamiliar jealousy was all about. But before he could do anything, the redheaded feline jiggled around in front of him, purring, “Dance with me?”

She didn’t wait for an answer, just grabbed his arm and tugged him forward. He wasn’t the first man she’d been gyrating up against tonight. An hour ago, she’d been wrapped around some guy dressed as a caveman, complete with fur loincloth. Captain Caveman was now groping a woman in a Little Red Riding Hood costume cut so low it barely covered her nipples.

Was there a law somewhere that said Halloween costumes for twenty-something-year-old women had to be slutty? God, he hated parties like this. How could he possibly have forgotten?

The only good thing about tonight’s was the moment he and Amanda had hit the dance floor themselves. After he’d officially gone “off duty” they’d had a couple of drinks. Drifting into the crowd, they’d danced not to the loud music, but to the intimate, primal beat that had been thrumming between them for hours.

He should never have left her alone. He should have just lived with the hard-on, trusting that the crowd on the dance floor would ensure nobody else knew he was dying to rip his date’s hot pants off and screw her into incoherence.

“C’mon, it’s a party, in case ya haven’t noticed!”

The redhead was the one who wasn’t too observant. She obviously didn’t notice that every ounce of his attention was focused on another woman. Or else she just didn’t care. He figured that was it because she had dragged him to within a few feet of Amanda and Steve, then proceeded to pole dance against his thigh, rubbing so hard he could feel the heat of her crotch through both sets of their clothes.

Nasty.

Grabbing her shoulders to push her off, he grimaced when she reached up and clasped onto his hand. Holding tight, she then turned her head and tried to suck his thumb into her mouth.

Repeat: You hate Halloween parties. And he was so far over the bar scene, he honestly couldn’t remember why he’d once enjoyed it.

Before he could disentangle himself, he glanced over and met Amanda’s stare. Her eyes narrowed and hardened. Her pretty lips compressed as she saw the strange young woman practically riding him, the pouty suction-cup mouth trying to simulate a sex act on his thumb.