Wine, Tarts & Sex

“Right now I can’t stop thinking of you. It’s like I’m fifteen again and horny as hell.” His jeans and boxers discarded, he dropped back onto the bed and stretched out.

“Lucky me to be able to take advantage of your horniness. ”

He opened his arms and smiled up at her. “Come on down, babe. We’re open for business.”

She leaped at him, giddy, infatuated, as willing as he to give in to her vaulting desires, no longer questioning what she was feeling. He was the cherry on the top of her sundae, the frosting on her cake of life, the man who could ring all her bells.

He caught her in midair and lowered her gently until she lay on him, warming all his senses, gratifying a newly susceptible contentment he’d not been aware he possessed. Framing her face in his hands, he just looked at her for a moment, taking in her fresh-faced beauty: the rosy-pink softness of her full lips, the green blue of her straightforward gaze, the smattering of freckles across her fine nose and cheeks that made her look younger than she was.

She could have asked what he was thinking, but on her own emotional roller coaster ride, she held her tongue. She couldn’t possibly talk about feeling something more than sexual attraction. He’d bolt for the door. “Hey,” she finally whispered. “Don’t forget how greedy I am.”

His smile was instant.

Practiced, she thought, but engaging and full of charm.

“I haven’t forgotten,” he said smoothly, focused once again, rolling her under him in a smooth, supple movement that belied his size and weight. “You’ll be wanting a few orgasms first to take off the edge, and then we’ll play.”

Seventeen

It was four in the afternoon when Jake woke with a start.

He lay very still, his heart pounding, his fight-or-flight reflex on red alert at the unusual circumstances. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d actually slept the day away with a woman after sex. Fuck.

With every primal impulse exhorting him to flee, he quickly considered his options. Go or stay? With his libido operating at the max, it was a five-second smack-down.

Any and all perceived liabilities were kayoed.

Major horniness the winner.

And bottom line, he reminded himself-Liv wasn’t the clingy type. She was a self-reliant, independent woman who had a life of her own. He wasn’t in danger of losing his free agent status.

His pulse rate began to subside, the hair on the back of his neck settled into place, his tension abated. It wasn’t the end of the world that he’d dozed off. After two nights of hot sex and little sleep, not to mention a morning romp, anyone would have done as much.

Having rationalized his squeamishness, he decided he might as well take advantage of his sound decision- making skills. Rolling over on his side, he took in the fine view. Liv was sleeping on her back, her hands flung over her head, the gentle rise and fall of her breasts inviting his touch. Unconsciously flexing his fingers, he recalled the feel of that ripe, pliant flesh. Not a single silicone insert to jar one’s fingertips; just fucking made-to-be-sucked world-class tits.

His cock apparently shared his enthusiasm for her boobs, jacking up into action mode with renewed energy after a well-deserved rest.

So the question was, should he let her sleep or not?

Did she need her rest, or would she rather wake up with a cock inside her?

Liv had kicked away the sheets in the warmth of the day, exposing her faint bikini line at hip and thigh. She apparently tanned topless; he hadn’t noticed before. Or maybe he’d just been too busy chasing orgasms to pay attention.

There was no question, though, why she’d been a top model for so long. Liv was quintessentially female. Lithe, curvaceous, fresh-faced and-he smiled-gung ho about sex.

Not to mention she liked his cooking.

Or more to the point, he liked cooking for her.

If he’d been attuned to the warning bells in the distant reaches of his brain-currently muted by lust-he’d have noticed the unprecedented phrase, He liked cooking for her.

But he didn’t for the above mentioned reasons.

Instead, he found himself suddenly occupied with the thought of food and a possible supper menu, when he should have been in his car driving home.

Even more strangely, he didn’t give a rat’s ass that he was veering off his well-trodden path of male independence.

In fact, he had more or less decided to wake Liv and ask her whether she wanted hot or cold food for supper. He found he was starved. And no wonder; he hadn’t eaten since breakfast.

“I’m hungry,” Liv murmured, her eyes still shut.

He smiled, not even questioning the bull’s-eye eeriness of her comment in light of their felicitous affinity. “And I’m planning our supper menu.”

Her eyes snapped open. “Are you going to stay and cook?”

“You betcha.”

“I am one lucky woman,” she whispered, her lashes framing the smile in her eyes. “Let me count the ways…”

“Amen, babe.” His voice was gentle, his mouth as he leaned over to brush her lips gentler still. Then, unnerved by the wave of tenderness spiking through his senses, he quickly pulled away. “How would you like to be my sous- chef?”

“I’d be honored,” she replied, picking up on his ultracasual tone. She had no more intention than he of giving in to dewy-eyed feelings, no matter the sweetness of his kiss. Not when he literally made women squeal in excitement when they saw him. God’s truth. She’d seen him on Entertainment Tonight when his L.A. restaurant had opened. He’d been all preternaturally cool eye candy while the women in the opening night crowd had screamed like crazed groupies.

“Feel like a shower first?”

Dragged back from the video clip in her mind, she looked blank. “Huh?”

“Would you like a shower first?” Polite and tactful, like he’d seen that blank look before. Like he was used to women zoning out at the sight of him.

“God, yes. I reek of sex.” So she’d joined the line of groupies. Not that she had a single regret when she was the happy recipient of super sex a la Jake Chambers.

Their shower took slightly longer than anticipated, primed as they were for sex. But even hungry sex eventually gave way to more potent hunger pangs.

“How about a rain check, babe,” Jake finally murmured, water streaming down his face. “I’m getting weak from starvation.”

She hesitated, then decided she couldn’t be completely selfish forever. “Sure,” she agreed, although nothing about him appeared to have weakened-neither his hard cock nor his strong arms holding her impaled on his erection.

“Down you go, then.” Unlacing her legs from around his waist, he set her on her feet. Stripping off his condom, he pulled the shower curtain aside, pitched the condom into the wastebasket under the sink, and turned back to her with the kind of focused energy she’d come to know. “Need a last rinse?”

She nodded, thinking she could use his undivided attention for the next week or so as well. But still rational enough not to utter such heresy, she dutifully waited to be rinsed off.

Nudging her legs apart, he hosed her down with the flexible shower hose, did the same for himself, and hung the shower head back in place.

“I’m sooo lazy,” she murmured as he turned off the water and reached for a towel. “Where do you get your energy? ”

He grinned. “I’m driven by hunger, babe. And I don’t need any help with cooking. Just keep me company. I’ll make us a mojito-if you have the liquor. They’re perfect on a hot day like this.”