Long Slow Second Look Page 2

"Then why are you only interested in a platonic relationship? Have you been hurt?"

  I was fortunate in that I had never been turned down by a woman I really wanted so had never had my heart broken. "No."

  "Then why are you looking for friendship from a woman instead of an intimate relationship?" She paused. "You…Can you…Are you able to…"

  It didn’t take a genius to figure out what she wanted to ask. "I have a normal sexual appetite which I'm fully capable of acting on without any artificial help," I assured her. "And I'm skillful enough to ensure it's equally as enjoyable for my partner."

  "Oh. Good."

  I arched a brow.

  She looked at me and then laughed. "It would be a shame for you to be either gay, asexual, or unable to…perform."

  "As I said, I'm straight and have a normal sex drive. I can and do get sex from almost any woman I want it from," I said.

  She gave me a long look before she smiled. "I'll just bet you can. You almost make me wish I was the lucky woman on the receiving end of all that skill."

  Damn she came on strong.

  "You have no problems having your sexual needs met, but you want more?"

  I nodded. "Yes. There are more than enough women willing to share my bed. But I’m looking for a woman I can develop a purely platonic friendship with. Grace is my only female friend and she's married, as you know."

  "Won't she do since you're looking for a purely platonic relationship?"

  "I'm fond of her, but she has a tendency to get on my last damn nerve. I was hoping you're available for the position."

  "Should I be insulted that you’re only interested in friendship with me?"

  She’d managed to grab and maintain my interest from the moment we met. I shook my head. "No. Actually, I’m paying you a compliment. I’d value your friendship more than I would a physical relationship with you." In your dreams, Reddorn. "If you’re prepared to be my friend, I’m prepared to pretend to be your man."

  We agreed to feign dating. I was happy with the deal thinking it was a win-win situation with both of us getting what we wanted and needed from each other.

  Of course life just wasn’t that easy. I should have known my carefully thought out plan for a non-sexual relationship with her was doomed to failure the moment I admitted I wanted her complete attention.

  Chapter Two

  Amber Hunt-Darkwater

  I don’t know what confused me more: meeting the tall, sexy John Reddorn or his unexpected reaction to my interest in Deandre Marton. Deandre joined the staff of the large private clinic I managed just outside the Philadelphia city limits a year earlier. I’d fallen into instant lust with him and had spent most of the previous year cultivating an office only friendship that I hoped would eventually lead to a serious non-office relationship.

  Despite my best efforts, Deandre and I had never gotten beyond the occasional light flirting he engaged in with nearly every woman who wasn’t a patient. My mom had taught me that extra-average looking women (code word for plain but neither of my parents had ever used that word with me or my sisters) often had to go the extended extra mile to land the men of their choice.

  Add an extra curvy body into the mix and women with lesser fortitude than the Hunt-Darkwater sisters would have resigned themselves to scraping the bottom of the barrel for a lover. Or thinking they had to spend their lives seeking pleasure from a collection of battery-operated boyfriends.

  Since I preferred the real McCoy, I’d learned to adapt a confident, sexy air and carried myself as if I expected the average male to find me just as attractive as he would a slender, pretty woman.

  Did it always work? No or I wouldn’t have spent the last year pursuing Deandre with little to show for it. But surprisingly it worked more often than not. I’d never had to resort to a vibrator for sexual gratification.

  Granted, thirteen months after I’d broken up with my last lover, I felt more than a little horny. And in walks John Reddorn. The unmistakable hint of jealousy I thought I detected in him intrigued me. Then he threw me for a loop by insisting he had no more than a platonic interest in me. Of course that statement flew in the face of his obvious annoyance at my failure to give him my undivided attention.

  When he agreed to pretend to be my man but not my boyfriend my confusion intensified. Should I take his advice and love the one I was with-namely him? Or should I continue my pursuit of Deandre that lately had shown signs of paying dividends in the form of his clear preference for my company at lunch and in the increase of compliments he paid me at work.

  Since I was in heavy lust but not in love with Deandre I decided to test the level of John's so–called platonic interest. I smiled up at him. "Can I interest you in a slow dance in the moonlight, pretend man of mine?"

  He nodded and slipped his arms around me.

  Oh. Nice. I took encouragement from the fact that his embrace felt warm and deliciously intimate for a man who had no sexual interest in me. Testing the waters further, I rubbed my cheek against his shoulder.

  "This is nice," I said.

  "Yes."

  Smiling, I slipped my arms under his jacket and around his waist. "Nice cologne, Johnny mine." And nice body to go with it.

  He didn’t respond.

  Oh well. At least he hadn’t pulled away. That encouraged me to see how far I could go before he did. As we danced in silence through several songs, I stroked my hands up and down his back.

  Although he made no effort to caress me in return, he didn’t object to my touch–not even when I released my embrace on his waist in favor of placing my hands on his shoulders. I brushed my lips against his neck several times before I nibbled his ear.

  He inhaled and quickly stepped away from me.

  "Tired?" I asked, keeping my voice level as I met his gaze.

  His lids immediately swept down to conceal his expression.

  Darn. My oldest step-brother Darkwater was fond of saying the eyes held all a woman needed to know about how a man felt. So I hated when one shielded his gaze from me.

  "You do know the meaning of the word platonic; don’t you, Amber?"

  I slipped my arm through his again. "Of course I do. That’s the type of relationship Deandre and I have shared for the last year. More's the pity."

  "It's the type of relationship I'm offering you as well."

  I was not in the market for another single sexy male offering me friendship with no prospects of a serious relationship or even sexual benefits on the side. "What’s your point?"

  "Kissing my neck and nibbling my ear isn’t very conducive to a platonic relationship, Amber."

  I shrugged. "Maybe not but it was very nice or don’t you agree?"

  "Whether or not I agree is beside the point."

  As far as I was concerned that meant he agreed but wasn’t willing to admit it. "Do I need to remind you that you agreed to pretend to be my man? I don’t know about you, Johnny mine, but when I’m slow dancing with my man, I like to be intimate. I like being held close and I like kissing and touching him."

  He looked at me before glancing toward the French doors.

  By some stroke of fate, Deandre stood there looking out at us.

  "Game time," I whispered improvising. I waved at Deandre and then deliberately linked my arms around John’s neck and brushed my mouth against his firm, warm lips. Oh. Damn. Nice. "He's looking. Kiss me."

  When he made no move to pull away or comply, I took matters into my own hands. I dragged my tongue along his mouth before leaning closer for a taste of his lips and a real kiss with tongue action.

  After a brief hesitation, he returned my kiss with enough force to coerce my lips apart. Seconds later, he pressed his tongue against mine. A jolt of desire sizzled through me. Surrendering to it, I leaned closer to him and sucked on his tongue with such a greedy delight that we both trembled with need.

  I wanted more intimacy. Removing my right hand from his neck, I reached for one of his hands resting at my waist. Still enjoying playing to
ngue tag with him, I guided his big hand down to my ass.

  In response, he deepened his kiss.

  When I was sure he wouldn’t remove his hand from my ass, I slipped my arm around his neck again to touch the hair at the nape of his neck.

  I trembled with anticipation and murmured against his mouth when he slid his other hand down my back to gently squeeze and caress my ass cheeks.

  With his big hands moving over my rump as if they had a mind of their own, I pressed closer to his big, muscular body.

  He inched his hips closer to mine.

  I felt the unmistakable stirring of his cock. I was so turned on I forgot where we were and that we had an audience. Cupping my hands on the back of his head to keep his lips and tongue in close and delicious intimate contact with mine, I greedily exchanged a series of heated kisses with him that made me burn.

  When I thought I felt his cock hardening, I was only a breath away from rubbing myself against it until he was fully aroused. He continued to caress my ass and inched his hips closer.

  All I could think about at that point was the need to reach between our bodies, free his cock, and eagerly part my legs for him to slip inside me.

  Shocked by the level of desire I felt for him, I pulled my lips from his and slid my hands down from his hair to push against his shoulders.

  He resisted, kissed me again and then thrust his tongue back into my mouth.

  I shuddered and then pushed against his shoulders again.

  By the time we broke apart for air, he’d nearly incinerated my desire to continue the pursuit of Deandre. Nearly but not quite. With Deandre I knew what I’d have–if I ever managed to land his handsome ass. With John not so much. Besides, my interest in Deandre, albeit mainly physical, wasn’t so shallow it could be vanished by a few kisses–no matter how heatedly delicious they were. At least that's what I assured myself.

  We stared at each other in silence. In those moments, I vacillated between the desire to rein in Deandre and the urge to kick his ass to the curb and turning my full attention to the sexy, delectable John Reddorn. But not for a fling. At thirty-two, it was time I thought about a serious relationship that would lead to marriage in the not too distant future.

  Deandre. You have to keep your main interest on Deandre. John’s made it clear he’s not interested in anything serious with you. The most you can expect from him is a fling. And if you’re not careful, you could end up hurt when he decides to seek so-called friendship with another woman and leaves you licking your wounds. Recalling the feel of his mouth and tongue, not to mention the hint of his cock stirring, I felt heat rise to my face.

  At the moment I didn’t owe any man allegiance. There was no reason I shouldn’t do what men in general and my step-brothers in particular did all the time–have my cake and eat it too. Or in other words see them both.

  I slipped my arm through his and looked up at him. "Wow. A man who knows what to do with his tongue doing a real kiss is sexy as hell." I fanned myself with my free hand. "That was beyond hot. If that’s how you kiss when you’re not interested, I’d love to be on the receiving end when you are."

  His jaw clenched and he looked away from me, breathing deeply.

  Not interested my ass. Maybe he’d never slept with a black woman or a full–figured one. Hell, maybe he wanted to bed someone other than the pretty women he probably usually slept with. Whatever the reason for his sudden about face, I was tempted to take full advantage of it.

  "If I didn’t know better, I’d think you wanted to take me to bed, Johnny mine."

  He turned to look at me again. "And if I did?"

  "Do you?" I prompted.

  He disengaged his arm from mine and stepped away from me. "I told you what I wanted from you."

  Was he serious after that question and scorching the taste of his mouth on mine and probably leaving palm prints on my ass? "So you did." And I’d believe it if he hadn’t just practically kissed the taste out of my mouth. I smiled at him and walked towards the French doors where Grace now stood with an I–told–you–so look on her pretty face. Clearly she’d seen those sizzling kisses and our bump and grind action.

  I winked at her before glancing over my shoulder at John. "Coming?"

  He inhaled, nodded curtly and walked across the patio to join me.

  "Oh, come on, Johnny. Why so glum? I know you were only pretending to enjoy kissing me but if you keep this up you’ll give me a complex. If that happens, you’ll have to really be my man because you will have ruined me for every other man. You don’t want that. Do you? Imagine the horror of having to bed me every time I need a man to hold me. And Johnny, I like being held on a regular basis."

  He stared at me and then suddenly laughed.

  I leaned against him and looked up into his dark gaze. "That really was hot. I’ll probably have to scrub the skin off my mouth to get the taste of yours off my lips."

  "You’re exaggerating."

  The hell I was but I could see he had a game plan. If I wanted a fling with him, I’d have to play along. "Maybe just a little," I said.

  He narrowed his gaze and looked sexily annoyed.

  I suppressed a smile. "Let’s do it again to see which one of us is right."

  "No," he said curtly, stepping back.

  "Party pooper."

  "You should be careful what you wish for, Amber."

  "I’m generally careful, but that doesn’t stop my knowing what I want and going after it."

  "And just what is it that you think you want from me?"

  Your big, nude body pinning mine to a bed seconds before you push my legs apart and slide deep inside me. I arched a brow. "I told you what I wanted, John; for you to pretend to be my man so I can reel in Deandre."

  He stared at me.

  He looked annoyed. About what I hadn't a clue. Deciding that there probably wasn’t going to be any pleasing him, I stared back briefly before turning away.

  "Reel in this!" He said and slapped my ass.

  "Hey!" Surprised, I swung around to stare at him. "What was that for?"

  He shrugged. "That was for his benefit," he said, his lids sweeping down to hide his expression.

  Even if Deandre was still standing at the French doors watching us, I knew or at least hoped John had slapped my ass because he wanted to. "Okay. I admit my flirting with you has been over the top but I blame that on the two glasses of wine I had."

  "Do you?"

  Clearly I needed to do some damage control or risk having him think I was a floozy. "Yes," I said firmly. "I’m normally very friendly but I don’t go around trading spit and allowing strange men to touch my rear within an hour of meeting him."

  "You didn't allow me to touch it, you encouraged me to."

  I shrugged. "It was the wine," I insisted. And dancing so close to your big, hard body.

  I couldn’t tell if he believed me or not. And that rankled because I didn’t want him to think I was easy. "And I’ve come to my senses," I added.

  "Meaning what, Amber?"

  So he wanted it spelled out. "Meaning you slap my booty again and you own it," I warned.

  "Really?"

  "Really."

  He waited until I started into the living room before I felt his palm stinging my ass again.

  When I half-turned, he whirled me into his embrace.

  I caught my breath, certain I felt the outline of his cock along his thigh. We stared at each other.

  When he didn't speak, I wrestled my desire under control and spoke. "That’s it buster. You are now the proud owner of my big, round brown ass. Satisfied?"

  He bent his head to brush his mouth against my ear. "That depends."

  I inhaled slowly as I tried to calculate the odds of our enjoying an extended fling without damaging my slim prospects with Deandre. "On what?"

  I felt that wicked tongue of his probing my earlobe. "On how big, round, and brown your booty actually is."

  Amber, girl, you’d better know what you’re doing before you re
spond. Deandre has already seen you kissing him–as has everyone else who was facing the patio. If you continue flirting with him you might blow any remaining chance you have with Deandre.

  Despite the dictates of commonsense, I had to admit that I found it difficult not to flirt with him. "Judge for yourself." I reached behind me to move his hand down from my back to rest on my ass. "What do you think, Johnny mine? Does this feel like I have enough junk in my trunk to make you happy to be the proud owner of my booty?"

  "Shit." He inhaled slowly before he spoke again. "You don’t want to know what I’m thinking," he said and caressed my ass.

  I struggled to keep my heartbeat from speeding up. "Considering that I came here hoping to catch Deandre’s attention, you’re probably right."

  He narrowed his gaze and compressed his lips. "Why the hell would you want a man you have to chase?"

  "I have news for you, John. I nearly always have to chase the men I want," I was amazed to hear myself admit.

  "Why?"

  He looked and sounded so puzzled that I could have kissed him again. "I’m not stop-the-presses-attractive, supermodel thin or surgically enhanced in anyway."

  He shrugged. "You make that sound like a bad thing."

  He really knew how to make a very ordinary woman feel good about herself. "Given what most men seem to prefer, it is. What you see is what I was born with and that often leaves the deck stacked against me."

  "You sound as if you’ve been seeing men who probably aren’t worth knowing or dating."

  "Maybe not, but a woman gets lonely."

  He paused before replying. "You appear to have a personality and self-confidence that can be far more advantageous than a pretty face and an empty head. You just have to meet the right man, Amber."

  "Yeah? And who would that be?"

  "I have no idea, but I doubt it’s him."

  Or me. Of course he didn’t speak the last two words aloud but he sure as hell projected them at me.

  "Do such men exist?"

  "Of course they do. I know a number of men capable and willing to date a woman who has a pleasing personality and doesn’t depend on her looks to get by."

  And if that didn't tell me he thought I was plain nothing would. "What about you, John? Are you capable and willing to do that?"