New York Nights: Shaken and Stirred. Kathleen O'Reilly
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last night. I really liked last night and I think if I thought of you as someone else other than you—my friend—then it’d be easier. Does that make sense?”
Gabe considered it. “No.”
She frowned in frustration and then tried again. “A healthy fantasy life should be part of every woman’s innate sexuality,” she told him, sounding like something on a TV talk show. Maybe that’s where this was coming from? Maybe Tessa had decided to start living again and she thought Gabe was safe.
That should have been a comforting thought.
Gabe was uncomforted.
He leaned one hip against the bar, not sure what to say.
Tessa reached out a hand, touched him on the arm. One touch that felt like a brand. “Please.”
“You’re sure about this?”
Tessa shot him a cocky smile, the one she always used right before torching her Flaming Lemon Drop shooter. “Oh, yeah.”
She sounded so confident, so capable, so…turned on. Maybe he’d misjudged last night. Maybe there was no reason for all his guilt. And then her body shifted, drawing his eyes. The scent of her, of Tessa, filled his mind until he couldn’t think. His blood heated, and right then Gabe really didn’t care about cleaning up or closing down. He needed to kiss that cocky mouth. Needed to touch her again.
He pulled her close and molded her to him, feeling the vulnerability, feeling the rightness of it. He looked down at her face, the eyes so carefully closed, but he didn’t worry about that. He needed to take that mouth again.
And it was exactly like last night. That same blaze ignited inside him. Her mouth was soft, so teasingly soft, and it opened easily for him, as if it was his own private stock. His hands traced over her, finding the places that he already knew. Gabe’s body, his cock, his hands, his mouth, already knew the game—and couldn’t wait.
Tonight she wrapped her arms around him, touching him in ways that she hadn’t last night. Her hand reached down, cupped him through his jeans, and he nearly shot off right there.
He wasn’t like this, he kept reminding himself. He didn’t lose it like Sean. But, damn, he was inches away from losing it now. He wanted to take her there, in the bar, with the lights shining from overhead, and he knew he needed to get control.
Her uncontrollable hand reached for the button at his fly, and he stopped worrying about the damned protocol. Desperately Gabe fumbled for the light switch, sighing with relief when darkness fell, only the dim glow of the city shining in from the front windows.
No one would know. No one would know but Tessa and Gabe.
He stopped her hand before she got farther because he was close to bursting—and they hadn’t even started. Not yet.
Purposefully Gabe grabbed her hand, walked her around the bar and then sat her up on the bar stool. Not satisfied with the situation, he eased off her shirt and bra, finding the soft skin that he was rapidly developing a taste for. Now the situation was looking up.
Tonight Tessa was bolder with him, running her hands under his shirt, removing the soft cotton, leaving them skin to skin. He wrapped her jean-clad legs around his waist, his body seeking home, eager to find the moist honey that Gabe knew was waiting there.
Tessa grinded against him with painful friction, and his body jerked, impatient with the layers between them.
One way to fix that. He wrenched down her zipper, his hands already reaching beneath the tight material, underneath the damp fabric, finding the warm pulsing piece of her that he wanted to own.
Tessa moaned in his mouth, and he hauled her off the stool, stripping her jeans in one easy pull. The lean legs wrapped around him, and he set his erection free. With shaking fingers, he sheathed himself and then slammed into her core.
He swallowed her cry with his kiss, tasting the tang of lemon, the softness that was Tessa. And because she liked to prove him wrong, her hips surged against him, and the firelust began all over again.
Five times he moved inside her, but the angle was wrong. Not enough. Not deep enough. Not enough of her. Frustrated, he swore and lifted her onto the bar, following on top of her. This time when he drove into her, he heard her answering sounds, music to his mind.
Suddenly, strong legs wound tightly around his waist. That was what he loved most about being inside her, this urgent desire to have him closer and closer until their bodies fit together like one.
Her hand fisted against his back, and he could feel the hunger that was raging inside her.
“I like the dark,” she whispered, her lips tasting his neck. “I love the dark.”
“Tessa,” he said but then stopped. Gabe wasn’t used to talking, wasn’t used to the games that women and men played. He’d always been obsessed with Prime, but this…a man could develop a new obsession.
“No names,” she whispered and then twisted in a neat little turn, climbing on top.
The dim light hit her body, her skin shimmering in the shadows, her breasts glistening with moisture, and his heart all but stopped. Her head fell to one side, her neck so long, so smooth, and his heart started beating again, hammering against his chest. He felt it then, desire, fear and the absolute certainty that he had crossed over some imaginary line, a point where there was no going back. Ever.
Tessa rode him, bucked against him, her hands skimming over his skin, and Gabe knew he was close. He grabbed her hips tight, plunged inside her, pistoning back and forth, wanting to pull her over the edge, wanting to watch her face as she came. Soon her mouth fell slack, her body tensed and, with a long cry, she climaxed, pulling him in after her.
IN THE DARKNESS, SO many things could stay hidden. Tessa felt his body beneath hers, marveled at the strength there, imagined the long hours that had made him that way.
He was her pool boy, her landscaper, her repairman and her delivery man, all wrapped up into one neat package of her ideal lover. That knowledge she could accept, letting the fantasy weave over her, keeping her mind free to explore, to enjoy and, best of all, to savor. As long as he was nothing more than a fantasy, she could look at him with a lover’s eyes. Tessa could still make love to him, and all she had to do was pretend. Not a problem.
She rose and dressed, watching the play of the muscles in his chest, his butt as he put on his clothes. The lines of his body were so hard and fluid, like a sculpture but alive and burning with heat.
“Tessa,” he started and then stopped, and she was grateful that he understood, that he never questioned why their relationship must stay in the dark. But there were so many places to go, so many other places that lovers could meet in secret.
“I think we should meet at a movie next time,” she told him, daring to propose something new. “In the afternoon, when nobody’s there, in the back row.”
“I don’t know,” he muttered, his voice unsure. “Are you still playing the game?”
She laid a finger on his lips, pressed a kiss against his chest. “Ssshhh. Think. Fantasize. So many things to do in the dark. Tomorrow. Meet me tomorrow afternoon.”
Her heart raced, pumping with excitement at the idea of seeing her lover again so soon. He reached for her, kissed her with passion, eagerness, devotion, and soon she could feel the decision inside him.
“All right.”
WHEN GABE FLIPPED ON the bar lights, he expected to find Tessa still caught up in the last throes of passion. Instead she was unaffected, her face smiling, with none of the husky thrill that he’d heard in her voice earlier.
Inside, Gabe knew perfectly well that something was screwed, but his body still hummed from being surrounded by her, and for the moment he could convince himself that everything was fine.
They closed up together, Tessa whistling a Donna Summer song as she finished, and then he walked with