Tame An Older Man

have all kinds of helpful advice about how to start her business. But not even her best friends knew the extent of her ambitions, and hiding them had become second nature.

Given the uncertain nature of her relationship with Wyatt, she didn't dare open herself up to that extent. She trusted him completely with her body. She trusted him to take care of her on the job. But she couldn't quite trust him with her soul.

He gave her nipple a gentle squeeze, and she forgot all about goals and dreams and cosmetics. It was pretty hard to do anything except live in the moment when she was in Wyatt's arms.

He unfastened the shoulder straps of her overalls and pushed them out of the way, then kissed her breasts with a thoroughness that had been lacking during their previous encounter. They'd been much too rushed to take their time.

But, oh, what they'd been missing. Phoebe squirmed as he lavished attention on first one breast, then the other, rolling his mouth over the nipples until they pebbled into hard peaks. Her whole body was on fire, with a particularly noticeable warmth between her thighs. But Wyatt seemed in perfect control, and she had a strong feeling he was going to enjoy driving her crazy with wanting before he brought her to satisfaction.

While he was sucking on her breasts, he managed to undo the side buttons of her overalls. Before she knew it, he'd slid the denim garment effortlessly down her legs. How had he managed that? she wondered. Even she couldn't take them off that easily when she was alone in her bedroom at home. With a surge of jealousy, she realized he'd probably undressed lots of women.

She made a token effort to unbutton the gray cotton shirt he wore, which still looked crisp and smelled like starch despite the long day he'd put in. But she was easily distracted when he moved down to kiss her stomach, so she gave up trying to undress him. He'd work it out on his own. She was drowning in sensations, almost paralyzed, and he would have to orchestrate things from here.

Her brain wasn't completely paralyzed, she discovered. 'What are we going to do about protection?' They'd used his one and only condom a week ago.

He chuckled. 'Not to worry.' He moved away from her. She raised herself to see what he was doing, and found him rummaging in his briefcase.

'You keep… those in your briefcase?'

He sat down on the edge of the sofa by her feet and calmly took off his shoes and socks. 'I found some more in my closet. And I threw one in my briefcase because I had this fantasy about you and me in conference at the studio-behind a locked door.'

'Wyatt. I thought we'd agreed.'

'It was a fantasy, okay? But I figured it wouldn't hurt to be prepared in case the impossible happened.'

Now that Phoebe thought about it, it didn't sound so impossible. In fact, it sounded downright delicious. 'We could do it on your desk,' she said in a naughty whisper.

He stood up and unzipped his pants, casually dropping them and kicking them aside. He wore navy blue briefs. She'd been too dazed before to pay attention. Now she did. How could she not, when the evidence of her effect on him was so clearly, wonderfully obvious?

'We could do it on the set with a spotlight on us,' he said as casually as if they were discussing a trip to the supermarket. 'After everyone's gone home for the day.'

A thrill ran up Phoebe's spine. 'We could do it in Kelly's dressing room, on that ridiculous fur rug she has.'

Wyatt froze in the act of unbuttoning his shirt. 'Phoebe, stop. I won't be able to keep a straight face anywhere in the studio if we keep this up.'

She laughed. 'We could drag Kelly's fur rug into the studio, turn on a red spotlight, maybe borrow a bottle of wine from that locked cabinet in the commissary-'

He shrugged out of his shirt and was on her in a flash. 'No more.'

Then he was kissing her, and she felt no more urges to laugh or giggle. Wyatt was very serious about his lovemaking. Very thorough. Very single-minded. Like he was about his work.

She wouldn't mind if he put his work first, she thought desperately. She wouldn't mind if he worked until midnight every night. She wouldn't mind if he could only spare her a half-hour every other Sunday. If only, when he was with her, he would focus on her like this, to the exclusion of everything else.

It was the most erotic turn-on she'd ever experienced.

Slightly frantic now, they both removed the last obstacle of clothing between them. Phoebe took a moment to appreciate what a splendid male animal Wyatt was before she opened herself to him, but he didn't accept her silent invitation right away. First he made sure she was thoroughly kissed in the most intimate way possible. He made sure she was as worked up as a woman could get.

He made her beg.

Finally, when she thought she would scream, he entered her in one quick, possessive thrust that branded her as his.

Compared to his previous gentleness, he was almost rough, taking his pleasure, and she reveled in it. He might have been trying to make her lose control, but he was the one behaving like a savage now.

And she loved it. She loved this side of him, the slightly wild sexual conqueror.

With that thought she went over the edge with a cry of pure, unbridled ecstasy, which was followed almost immediately by Wyatt's final, exultant thrust.

For long moments afterward they lay together, panting, damp with perspiration though the room was well cooled. After a couple of minutes they pulled apart and found a semi-comfortable position, with Phoebe lying against Wyatt's chest.

Finally Phoebe spoke. 'Oh, my God.'

'What?' He sounded concerned.

'We did it on your grandparents' sofa.'

'Oh, my God.'

Another long silence. Then she said, 'Wyatt?'

'Mmm.'

'I can't stay with you tonight.'

That got his attention. He pushed himself up on one elbow and peered into her eyes. 'I'm not letting you leave. I'll tie you to the bedposts.'

'Hmm. Interesting though that sounds, my mother is staying with me. She'll wonder where I am, and I can't tell her I slept with you.'

'Why not? She seemed a fairly modern, liberated lady to me.'

'You're not her daughter. She's as protective of her only-born as a she-bear, and unless you are prepared to explain why you're not marching me down the aisle posthaste, you'd better let me leave.'

'Ah.'

She could see he most certainly did not want to make any explanations to Olga.

'You're expecting to keep our relationship a secret, then?'

Wyatt's use of the word relationship startled her. For a moment she froze and just stared at him, dumbfounded.

'Or are you going to look me in the eye and tell me we made yet another mistake, and this isn't going to happen ever again?'

She honestly hadn't thought that far ahead.

'Make no mistake, Phoebe, this is going to happen again. And again and again, if I have anything to say about it. Denying the attraction, avoiding each other, feeling uncomfortable around each other, takes more energy than just giving in, don't you think?'

He had a point, but she still wasn't sure how to respond. Relationship? That sounded kind of scary. Delicious, but scary.

He brushed her cheek with his finger and softened his tone. 'You scare the hell out of me, you know that?' he said, echoing her thoughts. 'I can't believe some of the things that come out of my mouth when I'm around you.'

'Believe me, I understand.'

'I'm not good at dealing with gray areas. I like to nail things down, define exactly where we stand.'

'So you don't have to think about it.'