To All a Good Night Page 13

  “Key’s in my pocket,” she said in his ear.

  He slid a hand to her hip, and she sucked in a breath. “I’ll get it!”

  “Okay, okay. Just trying to help you out.”

  “Letting me down would be helping me out.”

  “Sure.” He loosened his hold on her legs, allowing her to slide down his back, making sure it was a slooowwwww slide, because there was something about having her legs wrapped around him, about the heat between those legs—

  “You have a dirty mind,” she said.

  “Hey, I didn’t say a word.”

  “You were thinking it. You were thinking about us…”

  “Yes?”

  “Having sex,” she whispered.

  “We’d both have to be facing the other way for that.”

  “Argh,” she responded, or something close to that, and dug into her own pockets for her key. She unlocked the door, flipped on the lights, and nearly shut the door in his face when he didn’t step inside fast enough. “I’ve got it from here, thanks.”

  “Just wanted to see your world.” He stepped into the room, which was as neat and tidy as he imagined it would be. There was a long table against one wall, lined with microscopes and other various equipment, another worktable along a second wall, with sinks and burners and lights, and a center workstation, behind which sat a neat black chair and a white lab coat over the back of it.

  “Home sweet home,” she said, and strode toward the center workstation. “Thanks for the TLC, good night.”

  “What’s your hurry, you have your Mr. Wrong waiting for you at home?”

  The tips of her ears went pink. “I shouldn’t have told you. In any case, I changed my mind.”

  “Look at that, you’re lying again.”

  “I…” She flipped on another light. “Okay, yes, I’m lying.”

  “Why? Am I your Mr. Wrong?”

  “What?” She whipped back to face him, dropping her keys.

  One look at her face had him letting out a surprised laugh. “Me? Really?”

  “You were only guessing.” She let out a breath and shook her head at herself. “Of course you were only guessing.”

  Fascinated, he moved in close. “So what exactly was it that you wanted from your Mr. Wrong?”

  “Nothing. Because trust me, I’m so over it.” And with that, she walked out of the lab, into a connecting bathroom, which she shut and locked.

  4

  M aggie stared at herself in the small mirror over the bathroom vanity. “You are an idiot.” She opened a drawer, searched around, and yes, found her own damn Band-Aids. Then she pulled out her cell and called Janie. “You’re not getting a Christmas present.”

  “Oh, no. You promised. You’re going to do Mr. Wrong.”

  “I am not going to have hot sex with that man. He’s…” Gorgeous. Hot. “Insufferable.”

  Jacob’s voice came through the door. “I’m not insufferable during hot sex, I promise.”

  Dammit! “I’ve got to go,” she hissed to Janie. Red as a beet, she opened the door and found Jacob sitting on one of the worktables, a big mixing bowl on one side, toying with her electric mixer on his other. He held up a thistle tube and dropper. “I feel like we’re back in chem lab.”

  She just looked at him, tall, big, and rough-and-tumble, a bull in her china shop. She couldn’t help but picture them back in chem lab, where she’d once dreamed of him clearing the workstation with one swooping hand, then lying her down and—

  He hopped off the table and patted the spot he’d just vacated. “Come here.”

  When she didn’t, he merely scooped her up himself and put her on the counter himself.

  “Hey—”

  Taking the Band-Aids from her fingers, he tore one open and smiled at her as he took ahold of the hem of her skirt. “It’s like we’re playing doctor.”

  She slapped at his hand, which didn’t deter him. “We are not playing doctor.”

  “Spoilsport.” He pushed her skirt up above her knees and put on the Band-Aids, during which time she became hyper-aware of the feel of his fingers on her skin, of the fact that when he was bent over her that way, she could smell his soap and absorb the heat of his body. But mostly she became aware of her own breathing and how it’d quickened, but once he’d finished and yet left his hands on her, the opposite happened and she stopped breathing entirely. “You listened to my conversation with my sister.”

  “Yes.”

  “This is a little awkward.”

  “Not for me.”

  Dammit. “Okay, so you were my Mr. Wrong of choice.”

  “Because…”

  She grimaced, hating to admit this. “Because historically speaking, I tend to go for a certain type of guy.”

  “Uh-huh. Someone like yourself probably. A little anal, a little uptight—”

  “Yes,” she agreed, trying not to be insulted. How was it that he could be both so gorgeous and so irritating? “But it’s no longer working for me. Hence the juvenile behavior of my sister and I, and me going for my Mr. Wrong in the first place. I just wanted to…feel. I wanted…”

  “Hot sex.”

  He was smiling again, and she gritted her teeth. “Nothing permanent.”

  “How long has it been for you?”

  “That’s not really any of your business.”

  “How long?”

  “Not quite two years.” One year, eleven months, two weeks and three days, not that she was counting or anything.

  “So you wanted me to be your Mr. Wrong,” he said. “To break your not-quite-two-year dry spell with some hot sex.” He arched his brow. “Were there any particulars? Special requests? Kinks?”

  She sighed. “Do you have to be crude?”

  “Oh, baby, if you think that’s crude, then we’re going to be in trouble when we get down to the doing.”

  “I’m not doing! Not with you!” She covered her face. “I’m over it.”

  He put a hand on either side of her hips. “But you wanted to. With me.”

  “Could you shut up now?” she begged. “Please?”

  “I’ve got a better idea.” His mouth nuzzled at her jaw and she attempted not to melt. “How about I keep my mouth busy with other things? God, something smells delicious.”

  “It’s not me, it’s the stuff in that mixing bowl.”

  He lifted the bowl. “What is it?”

  “Organic honey cream. Sort of.” It was a skin repair formula, and also a cell rejuvenation. Magic lotion, really.

  “Organic?” There was a light in his eyes that made her nipples tingle. “As in edible?”

  “I s-suppose.”

  “I like honey.” He smiled, and it was so wicked she quivered. He dipped a finger into the bowl.

  “Jacob—”

  “I leave for New Orleans tomorrow, so that is your last chance at the whole Mr. Wrong experiment.”

  “Oh. Well. I don’t think—”

  Which was the last thing she got out before his mouth claimed hers. And while he distracted her with his very talented tongue, he gently urged her legs open and stepped between them, putting their bodies up flush together.

  Oh, God. “This is such a bad idea,” she managed as he took his lips on a tour over her jaw.

  “This kind of bad is good.” He took his finger, the one he’d dipped in the lotion, and touched it to her throat, then leaned in and licked it off. “Yum.”

  Dizzy, she clutched at him, holding him so tight to her that he couldn’t have gotten away if he’d wanted to. “I really think we should take a moment and discuss this.”

  “Okay,” he said agreeably, against her flesh. “You go ahead and discuss.”

  “You sh-should know, I might just be using you for the fantasy I’ve had since high school. The one where I was the girl in the empty classroom with you.”

  “Use me,” he murmured, his tongue taking a hot lick at the dip in the hollow of her throat. “You locked the door, right?”

  “No
.”

  “I got it.” He slipped the lock and kissed her again.

  God, he was a great kisser. The king of great kissers. Greedy yet generous, soft yet firm, hot and wet but not too wet, and while he was going about rendering her incapable of remembering her own name, he undid the buttons on her blouse, letting out a low, appreciative throaty groan at the sight of her white lace demi bra, which was doing its job of holding up and displaying—until he unhooked it, that is. Dipping his head, he pressed his mouth to the full curves plumping out of the top of the lace as he dipped his fingers into the lotion again.

  “Jacob—” The word choked off as he painted the honey lotion over her bared breasts, following up with his mouth as his very busy hands skimmed down her legs and then back up again, taking the material of her skirt up with them.

  Her pulse skittered. “I don’t know about—”

  “You taste better than the honey.”

  “Thanks, but—”

  “You never answered my question. Just hot sex? Or…” With a naughty bad boy grin, he flipped on the vibrating mixer at her hip and wriggled his eyebrows. “Extra stuff?”

  She took a big gulp as he nudged her blouse off one shoulder. The soft material of his shirt was stretched taut over his leanly muscled chest, loose over his belly, which she could feel beneath her fingers, fingers that somehow slipped beneath the tee to touch warm, hard abs.

  “Tell me,” he said.

  She played with the waistband of his jeans. “Um…”

  “Oh, don’t lose your nerve now.” His mouth was at her ear. “Tell me, Maggie. Slow and sweet?” He skimmed his thumb over a nipple, making her arch into him. “Or fast and hard?” His other hand was up her skirt, playing with the edging of her panties. “Or somewhere in between?”

  “Fast and hard,” she decided as she shoved up his shirt, revealing his stomach, which made her mouth water. “Really fast,” she choked out, as his finger slipped just beneath her panties.

  “I can do fast.” He glided the pad of his finger over her, his own breathing uneven, his body tight against hers.

  She was breathing just as erratically, and her body was every bit as tight, and also trembling.

  And wet.

  She dropped her forehead to his chest. She could tell he was holding back, being careful with her, and she’d have expected that from Mr. Right but not Mr. Wrong.

  She didn’t want careful.

  She wanted wild, unmitigated, unadulterated passion, from him, for her, and she wanted that now, along with her fast. So she kissed him, gliding her tongue to his. He made a low, rough, intimately thrilling sound from deep in his throat and his arms came up, banding tightly around her, pulling her flush to him.

  Careful restraint gone. Mission accomplished.

  “Tell me it’s like getting back on a bike,” she gasped. “That I’m going to remember what to do next.”

  “Trust me, you’re going to remember.”

  “Okay.” Desire was getting the best of her, and her fingers outlined the bulge of him straining the front of his jeans.

  “See?” He breathed shakily. “You’re remembering already.”

  She could hear the loud beat of his heart in her ear, could feel him shudder in pleasure when she stroked him. He wanted her. Her Mr. Wrong wanted her. Unlike her last encounter, the man she was with wasn’t worrying about the time, or his next meeting, or how he looked. He was thinking of her, touching her, kissing her, completely lost in her, and she let herself get a little lost in that, lost in the heat, the passion, the need, all the things she’d deprived herself of for so long.

  He tugged off her blouse, let out an extremely satisfying growl at the sight of her, and lapped up some of the honey concoction he’d left on her breasts, his thumbs rasping over her nipples until she thunked her head back against the wall. “Definitely remembering.”

  “Good.” He laved one nipple with special, tender care, then gave the other the same attention, until her hips were rocking restlessly, needing, desperately needing. His hands danced up the back of her thighs, cupped her bottom and squeezed. “That’s real good.”

  She tried to tug off his T-shirt, murmuring in delight when he helped, pulling it over his head. When she leaned in to kiss his chest, he let his head fall back, his hand coming up to cup the back of hers, which tightened on her as she licked his nipple. Egged on by his shaky exhale and the way he moved hungrily against her, she did it again, lapping up his magnificent body, all lean, long, hard angles, so male, so hot. It was incredible, it was freeing, knowing this was just sex, that’s all, and for that moment she felt like a different woman, and she loved it. Loved how he made her feel. “I’m ready for the fast and hard portion of the program,” she whispered against his skin.

  “Me, too.” He urged her hand lower to prove it, helping her unzip his pants to free the essentials.

  “Oh,” she breathed, wrapping her fingers around him. “You’ve definitely got the hard part covered.”

  “Yeah. Let’s work on the fast.” Pressing his mouth to her shoulder, he hooked his fingers in her panties. “Lift up, Maggie.” He tugged the material off and over his shoulder. The table was cold against her butt, making her gasp, but he slid his hands beneath her.

  She’d meant to do this quick, meant to get only what she needed and get out, but suddenly, getting out was the furthest thing from her mind. Awash in sensory overload, she wanted to do this for the next hour.

  All night.

  Straining against him, breathing like a lunatic, she murmured in surprise when he suddenly dropped to his knees and yanked her forward.

  Right against his mouth.

  He kissed her then, using his tongue, his teeth, and she lost herself.

  Completely.

  Lost.

  Herself.

  When she’d stopped shuddering, he surged back to his feet, produced a condom—God bless the condom—then in the next breath filled her so full she nearly came again on impact.

  And then he began to move, and she did come.

  Instantaneous orgasm.

  It boggled her mind, coming like that, coming without even trying, certainly without straining for it. He brought her up again with fierce thrusts that took her so far beyond her own experiences, she wasn’t sure she could even bear it. But then he whispered her name in a voice that assured her she wasn’t alone in this, that he was just as lost in her as she was in him.

  Right there in the very lab where she’d had endless fantasies about him for the past two months, he made them all come to life. And suddenly she wasn’t lost at all, but found, one-hundred-percent found.

  Jacob was still trying to find his legs and gather his senses when he heard it, a soft click, like a door closing. With Maggie plopped against him like a rag doll, he lifted his head but the lab door was closed.

  In his arms, Maggie stirred, and frowned. “Was that the door?”

  “I thought so but—”

  “No.” She peeked over his shoulder. “Couldn’t be. It’s locked. Oh my God, do you think someone saw us?”

  “Who has the key?”

  She blanched and straightened. “My bosses. And probably others. But they’re all gone for the day, or so I thought.” She pushed at him and he released his hold on her, stepping back as she hopped down and tried to put her bra back on. “Someone was in here.”

  Yeah. Very likely, which pissed him off.

  “But why? No one could have known we were going to…”

  “What do you keep in here? Anything you don’t want anyone to see?”

  She struggled with her blouse a moment, then whirled around, snatching her panties off a microscope with a sound of distress. “Plenty.”

  Her answer had him taking a second look at her as she fumbled to right her skirt, which was all twisted around her waist, a hot look he might add. He knew Data Tech specialized in the latest technology and inventions, putting new and innovative things on the market, often years ahead of their competition, but he
had no idea what Maggie did exactly except make edible honey lotion. She limped away and into her office, still trying to fix her clothes. “I don’t know what anyone could have been looking for…” Then she turned back to him. “My briefcase. I left it and my purse in your temporary office—”

  “Wait here.” He ran back to the other side of the building, grabbed her briefcase and purse and turned to head back to her, but she’d come up behind him, standing there pale and quiet as he handed everything over.

  “There’s no one on my floor,” she said. “No one who might have come into my lab. Everyone’s office is dark.” She opened up her briefcase, searching inside for…

  A glass vial.

  Looking extremely thankful to see it, she flipped through the rest of the briefcase, checked her laptop, and then took a deep sigh of intense relief.

  “Important stuff?”

  “Two years’ worth of work, and this sample is definitely valuable enough to steal. If you know what you’re looking for.”

  “What is it?”

  “Transdermal drug delivery.”

  “Trans what?”

  “It’s a way to get cancer prevention and gene repair medication through skin care.”

  “Impressive,” he said, staring at her, suddenly understanding exactly what someone was doing snooping in her lab. “And definitely worth stealing.”

  “Yes. When the formula is right, just a little bit of this stuff could deliver a critical dose of meds, and if done correctly, virtually eliminate the side effects common with injections. I’m in testing now, the dosing is still inconsistent.”

  “But you’re close,” he guessed.

  “Yes. I believe I’m nearly there.”

  “That’s amazing.”

  “Not yet it’s not. At the moment what I’ve got is some fairly fabulous face cream that works better than cosmetic surgery, suitable for acne, anti-aging, and psoriasis, as well as repairing sun-damaged skin. But I’ll get there.”

  “Is that why your skin is so amazing?”

  Her gaze flew to his, startled. “You think my skin is amazing?”

  He slipped his fingers into her hair, letting his thumb trace her jaw. He’d just had her, and yet the simple touch still electrified him to the core. “I do.”