Книга - Oh, Naughty Night!

Oh, Naughty Night!
Leslie Kelly


Hot for the holidays!Every Halloween party has its share of eye candy, and journalist Chaz Browning has just spotted a treat he can't resist–a deliciously wicked witch with sparkly red hair and deep, dark eyes that promise all kinds of sexy tricks. She wants no names. No strings. Just a night of lust-filled magic.The witch's mask may hide her face, but Lulu Vandenberg knows exactly who Chaz is. They spent most of their childhoods tormenting each other. So the moment Chaz touches her and everything turns to lust, Lulu knows she can never reveal her identity. But desire has a memory of its own, and Chaz has vowed to find his fantasy woman before the holidays end…







Hot for the holidays!

Every Halloween party has its share of eye candy, and journalist Chaz Browning has just spotted a treat he can’t resist—a deliciously wicked witch with sparkly red hair and deep, dark eyes that promise all kinds of sexy tricks. She wants no names. No strings. Just a night of lust-filled magic.

The witch’s mask may hide her face, but Lulu Vandenberg knows exactly who Chaz is. They spent most of their childhoods tormenting each other. So the moment Chaz touches her and everything turns to lust, Lulu knows she can never reveal her identity. But desire has a memory of its own, and Chaz has vowed to find his fantasy woman before the holidays end…


Praise for New York Times bestselling author Leslie Kelly (#ulink_09bd5bdb-002f-5358-875a-51749596f282)

“Sexy, funny and a little outrageous,

Leslie Kelly is a must read!”

—New York Times bestselling author Carly Phillips

“Leslie Kelly is a rising star of romance!”

—#1 New York Times bestselling author

Debbie Macomber

“A sexy read with an alpha male,

realistic characters and an entertaining plot.”

—Harlequin Junkie on Double Take

“Kelly succeeds with this sexy story,

keeping the tension high.”

—RT Book Reviews on Waking Up to You

“Kelly employs a great deal of heart and humor

to achieve balance with this incendiary romance.

Great characters, many of whom fans will

recognize, and a vibrant narrative kept

this reader glued to each and every word.”

—The Romance Reader’s Connection

on Overexposed


Dear Reader (#ulink_172da574-4989-50ef-853e-3a76feaade23),

Over my many years writing books for Mills and Boon, I have really enjoyed creating holiday-themed stories, with several Christmas novels, and some revolving around Halloween.

This year, knowing I had a November release, I decided to try something a little different. Falling right between Halloween and Christmas is one of my favorite holidays: Thanksgiving. I’d never done a Thanksgiving book, nor could I envision a whole Turkey Day–themed novel. But the idea of capturing the entire holiday season, from the end of October through Christmas, excited me. I relished the chance to take one couple from the dizzying excitement of a naughty costumed encounter at a Halloween party through to the happy excitement of Thanksgiving and right into the tender loveliness of Christmas.

I truly love how this turned out, and so enjoyed bringing Lulu and Chaz through my three favorite holidays of the year. I hope their story makes your holiday season a little more sweet-and-spicy, too.

Best wishes,

Leslie Kelly


Oh, Naughty Night!

Leslie Kelly






www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


ABOUT THE AUTHOR (#ulink_059cb0f5-8a03-5751-b250-7d6b951f297c)

New York Times bestselling author LESLIE KELLY has written dozens of books and novellas for the Mills and Boon Blaze, Temptation and HQN lines. Known for her sparkling dialogue, fun characters and steamy sensuality, she has been honored with numerous awards, including a National Readers’ Choice Award, a Colorado Award of Excellence, a Golden Quill and an RT Book Reviews Career Achievement Award in Series Romance. Leslie has also been nominated four times for the highest award in romance fiction, the RWA RITA® Award. Leslie lives in Maryland with her own romantic hero, Bruce, and their daughters.

Visit her online at www.lesliekelly.com (http://www.lesliekelly.com) or at her blog, www.plotmonkeys.com (http://www.plotmonkeys.com).


To the younger members of my big extended family…

Elliott, Kyleigh, Trey, Addison, Isiah,

Christopher, Jordyn, D4 and Baby Lundh…

I hope the holiday memories you’re building with

your wonderful parents are as magical as mine

always were. Aunt Loulou loves you all!


Contents

Cover (#u95882a65-0577-5bd5-8226-6fd81292f98d)

Back Cover Text (#uc82ea88b-a9f7-524f-8f38-67e75e22feef)

Praise (#uc51c7f1f-0ef3-5b48-974a-d0129c6c47d9)

Dear Reader (#uba361095-8436-520f-bd0c-2c941ccae34c)

Title Page (#ueb89ae30-7bef-5bd5-8360-14b3ec5c0778)

ABOUT THE AUTHOR (#u997ba5ac-d573-58cc-872d-271a0a27ca00)

Dedication (#uc9ce257d-e813-5954-9481-ef618503e1ab)

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3 (#u5f66b7af-84f1-593c-9c27-a46efa432ba1)

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Extract (#litres_trial_promo)

Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)


1 (#ulink_710c0ec5-9a00-58d6-aa21-9e75e63e282a)

“THERE’S NOTHING WORSE than having the hots for a sexy guy, and then finding out he has the personality of a turnip.”

Lucille Vandenberg—known to her friends and family as Lulu, which wasn’t great, but was certainly better than Lucille—didn’t try to keep the disappointment out of her voice as she griped to her friends, Viv and Amelia. Honestly, a guy who looked as good as the man holding the guitar at the crowded bar should have boatloads of brains and charm to go with his amazing body. But this one? Ugh. She’d had more scintillating conversations with her houseplants.

“Sorry he turned out to be a disappointment,” said Amelia, her pretty, gentle face full of commiseration and support.

Viv wasn’t as comforting. “If the turnip’s hung like a porn star, you can handle a root vegetable, Lulu. I mean, it’s not as if you want a life partner here.”

Lulu wasn’t convinced, mainly because, once again, she’d set herself up for disappointment. For the past month, since she’d moved to Washington, D.C., she’d been on the lookout for an interesting guy to help break her long romantic dry streak. For what seemed like forever, she had been so focused on getting through grad school, and then on her internship in Rwanda, and then on her new job with a local NGO. She hadn’t allowed herself a single date in ages. Of course, that also could have been because her last serious relationship had been with someone who’d been so self-absorbed and career-focused, he hadn’t even known her middle name, her favorite color, or much of anything else about her a year after they’d been together.

But now she needed sex. Badly. Needed to have it with somebody who would make her forget she hadn’t had it for so long...or at least make her believe the wait had really been worthwhile. She could deal with him not caring about her middle name or favorite colors, at least for one night.

“I just wanted to meet somebody nice, sexy and smart, and have a welcome-to-Washington adventure,” she mused.

And when she’d come into this Dupont Circle bar earlier in the week and met the super-hot guitar player, she’d thought she might have found the perfect person with whom to do it.

But when they’d talked tonight, he’d turned out to be as adventurous as a trip to the dentist. Not even a trip for a filling, or a root canal, just a plain old check-up. Yawn. The monosyllabic conversation they’d shared when she arrived tonight had crushed her fantasies completely.

“Who cares about his IQ?” Viv added. “It’s his looks and size that matter.”

“Maybe to you,” said Amelia, her tone a bit disapproving.

Really, the two former college roommates couldn’t be more dissimilar, and Lulu wondered how they’d survived. They were like Oscar and Felix, only female. One was sexually conservative while the other was a bit of a slut. A definite odd couple.

“I wish I could be as brutally shallow as you, Viv,” Lulu said. “But I need conversation to go with the pecs and schlong.”

Viv grinned, impossible to insult. She was the queen of mean. “Fine, forget him. But don’t give up. The night is young.”

Maybe. But she didn’t want merely smarts, she also wanted a guy who was honest and direct, who didn’t play games with his intentions. Someone who knew what he wanted and went after it...not a wishy-washy dude who couldn’t even speak unless the subject was his favorite band.

Why the hell was it so hard to find somebody like that?

Amelia raised her voice to be heard over the crowd, which was growing louder with every costumed body that crammed into the trendy bar. “There will be lots of guys here tonight. You’ll find somebody better.”

“I doubt it.”

“Have another drink. They’ll all start to look better after three of those things,” said Viv, gesturing toward Lulu’s glass.

Lulu was already feeling the effects of two. Unfortunately, they were making her more choosy, not less. “I’m not the one-night-stand-with-a-stranger type.”

Viv raised a brow and gestured toward the guitarist.

“He wasn’t a stranger,” Lulu insisted. “I sorta knew him.”

“You exchanged five words with him before tonight,” Viv said with a smirk.

“But I knew his name.”

“Only his last one.”

“Yeah, what’s up with that?”

Viv shrugged. “Schaefer’s all mysterious about his first name. I bet it’s something stupid like Fred or Homer or Ralph.”

Amelia, smiling sweetly, said, “Maybe he’s just trying to keep some things private, since he’s in the spotlight.”

Perhaps. But she suspected the broodiness and first-name mystery were intended to heighten interest in an otherwise pretty uninteresting guy. It had certainly worked on her, at least until she’d heard him say more than “Got a request?”

Sighing, she swirled her Devil’s Brew—the drink on special for tonight’s big Halloween bash—and sipped it. She was careful not to splash any of the red liquid onto the half-mask that covered her face from mid-forehead down to the tip of her nose. Lulu had gone to a lot of trouble with this costume, having fully intended to look as sexy and wicked as she could in hopes of stirring some naughty thoughts in the guitarist. She was a witch, but her green mask wasn’t the least bit scary—no long nose or warts. She’d gone instead for a Mardi Gras type facial covering, with sequins and cat-shaped eye openings. Beneath her pointy hat, her hair was curled and teased, wild and untamed. She’d also sprayed a coating of glittery red hairspray onto it, making herself even more unrecognizable.

Schaefer had noticed. She’d seen appreciation and heat in his eyes. His brain might be all vegetable, but his body apparently had some blood flowing through its roots. Er, veins.

That probably would have been enough for most sex-starved twenty-six-year-old women. Maybe it would have been enough for grad-school Lulu. But she’d changed since she’d returned from her internship in Rwanda. Working in a country filled with people who had so little, and then for a nonprofit group that gave microloans to similar, desperately-hopeful populations, would do that to a person.

She supposed she really had grown up. But that didn’t mean she didn’t still have the desire to go out and cut loose, if only to escape the sadness and deprivation she often witnessed in her job. But not with a turnip.

“Whoa, striptease at eleven o’clock,” Viv said, her dark eyes widening.

“Wow, I thought this place was more upscale than that. Maybe we should go someplace else before then,” said Amelia, sounding a little shocked.

“I wasn’t talking about the time, Miss Literal.” Viv pointed. “I mean at my eleven o’clock.”

Lulu and Amelia both turned, peering through the crowd, trying to see what had caught Viv’s attention. At first, Lulu merely spied a sea of devils, vampires, sexy nurses and construction workers. Then she spotted a figure standing alone near the dance floor, facing away from her. And she simply couldn’t look away.

The guy had donned a white sheet for the event, going for the age-old ghost outfit that had gone out of style before Lulu was in elementary school. But even a single sheet was apparently too much. As if he’d felt he’d done his holiday duty by appearing in a requisite costume for a little while, he’d begun to pull the sheet up to remove it. He’d already revealed long legs covered in soft, loose-fitting jeans that draped across powerful, muscular thighs. Not to mention an utterly delish male ass lovingly cupped by that faded denim.

As he stretched his arms up, he caught the bottom hem of his shirt, which was now rising with the sheet—perhaps by design, but more likely by accident. Whatever the reason, she, Viv, Amelia and, she noted, every woman around them, watched him with avid attention as he bared smooth, supple skin, golden and slick with sweat from the hot, crowded bar. His jeans hung low on lean hips; his waist was slim, every inch of him hard.

Lulu reached blindly for her drink, sipping, but she didn’t take her eyes off the ghost. The sheet and shirt went higher—oh, God, that back. It rippled with muscle, every bit of him powerful and sexy. In that body, strength wasn’t just implied, it was promised, and though she wasn’t a petite woman, she suddenly felt very feminine and fragile in comparison.

Catching a glimpse of ink on the back of his shoulder, she waited for more of it to be revealed. She held her breath, dying to see the broad shoulders and bare, flexing arms.

Unfortunately, he appeared to realize he’d been putting on a show. The man yanked the shirt back into place with one hand, and whipped the sheet the rest of the way off with the other. She almost heard a universal sigh of disappointment from every double-Y chromosome in the joint.

“A blond,” Amelia said with a pleased little sigh.

“I like blonds,” Viv purred.

Lulu never had before, but she was definitely seeing the appeal. “I’m quickly developing an appreciation for them.”

Viv tried to stake her claim. “If he has a face to go with the rest of the package, I’ll be poisoning your drinks so I can get to him first.”

Lulu waited, sending mental signals for the guy to turn around so she could judge if the front was as amazing as the back. He didn’t accommodate her fully, but he did glance toward the guitarist, nodding hello to Schaefer. Lulu got just a brief glimpse of his profile, but it was enough to make her gasp in shock.

Lurching from her chair, she said, “It can’t be.”

“Can’t be who?” asked Amelia.

“Chaz.”

Viv frowned. “A guy who looks like that is named Jazz?”

“Chaz,” Lulu insisted, shaking the confusion out of her head and slowly lowering herself back down as her two friends eyed her curiously. “No, I’m wrong. I have to be. No way is that Chaz Browning.”

“Hmm,” Amelia mused, “that name sounds familiar.”

“He’s a journalist—some of his stuff has been in Time magazine and now I think he works for the Associated Press, or maybe Reuters,” Lulu said, still trying to get the crazy thought that the Chaz she’d known as a kid could possibly have grown up to be the stud she’d just been ogling.

“Who are we talking about, the guy over there?” asked Viv.

“No, it’s just a resemblance.” She sipped again, willing her heart to stop thudding. “Chaz Browning was a boy from my hometown in western Maryland, literally the boy next door. Our parents are best friends, but we always tormented each other.”

Well, mostly she’d tormented him. She smiled, thinking how silly she’d been to equate Chaz Browning with the red-hot dude across the bar.

“I’ve barely seen him since he graduated from high school nine years ago. But our families are still close. My mother told his mother that I was moving here, and he emailed me with info about his Realtor. That’s how I got my apartment.”

“And Chaz is definitely not Mr. Sexy Ghost?” Viv said, still focused on the handsome stranger, now ringed by a trio of costumed women. Lulu frowned, seeing the way they leaned against him, brushing body parts against his thick arms and strong legs.

None of your business, she reminded herself, turning in her chair to face her friend, and not the walking sexsicle.

“No way. Chaz was a total nerd. Skinny, awkward.”

He definitely didn’t have tons of muscles or an ass that could make a wolf-whistler of a nun. Sweet, quiet Chaz had as much in common with ghost-guy as Brad Pitt did with Elmer Fudd.

“Well, Mr. Ghost is definitely not a wimp,” Viv said.

Chaz hadn’t been a wimp, either, exactly. Memories flashed through her mind and she felt the same pang of guilt she always felt when she remembered the boy she’d known. She’d harassed him mercilessly—like the time Chaz had gone up onto the roof of the garage to retrieve a football. She’d waited until he was up there, and had then taken the ladder away. Chaz, not wanting to admit defeat to a mere girl, had jumped, landing hard enough on the ground that he fell and cracked his tailbone.

Her mom had accused Lulu of picking on Chaz only because she had a crush on him. She’d denied it, though she’d always thought he was kind of cute when he blushed. Which was often.

Suddenly, Viv’s eyes went even rounder, and her mouth fell open. “Oh, my God, the front half is even better than the rear.”

Lulu spun around on her seat again, wanting a better look. The hot stranger had turned toward them. She saw his face, noted the features—the green eyes with laugh lines beside them, the dimple in one cheek, the small cleft in his chin.

Confusion raced through her. The square, slightly grizzled jaw did not compute, nor did the wide, oh-so-kissable mouth, the flashing green eyes, the utter, rugged handsomeness of the man.

All unfamiliar...yet very familiar indeed.

“No way,” she mumbled. “It just can’t be.”

She stared and stared. And gradually, the truth forced its way into her consciousness.

She might not recognize the body, but she knew that face, that smile, that dimple. She could no longer deny that the sexy ghost was, indeed, Chaz, the boy-next-door. The one she’d tormented, the one who’d ignored her until she’d been as rotten as possible to get his attention, the one she’d hoped to meet again here in D.C. if only so she could make up for being such a little snot when they were kids. But she needed to work up to it and wasn’t prepared to start tonight. Unfortunately the mask probably didn’t hide enough of her face that he wouldn’t recognize her.

It was like some kind of morality play or Aesop’s fable. She’d been the mean girl to a rather forgettable boy, and Chaz Browning had grown up to be the hottest, most unforgettable man she’d ever laid eyes on.

“It’s him. It’s really him.”

“Your old friend?” asked Amelia.

“Something like that.” Friend wasn’t the word she’d use.

“He’s totally checking you out.”

Lulu shook off her shock and paid attention again, realizing that Viv was right. Chaz was eyeing her, a smile tugging at the corners of that incredible mouth. So maybe he had a short memory and didn’t recall that he had reason to hate her guts. Or maybe he’d just grown up and looked back at their childhood days through a softer lens, as she had.

She gave him a bright, sunny smile back, shoving away her sexual interest, forcing herself to remember this was an old frenemy. No way did she want him to know she’d been drooling over him.

He started to come over, probably to say hello, ask how she was settling in to city life, maybe make small talk about the old days. She glanced away, focusing on her drink, running her fingertips over the condensation on the glass, feigning a nonchalance she definitely did not feel.

“Hi,” a man’s voice said a moment later. It was Chaz’s voice, with many years’ worth of maturity added on. He stood behind her, and she felt the warmth of his big, broad body.

Willing her cheeks not to pinken and her voice not to quiver, she glanced up at him. “Hi, yourself.”

“Happy Halloween.”

“Same to you.”

He gestured toward her glass. “I’d offer to buy you a drink, but it seems you’re full-up. How’s the special?”

“Remember the taste of kids’ cherry-flavored cough syrup?”

“Uh-huh.”

“That tasted better.”

“Think I’ll stick to beer.”

“Good choice,” she said. “I like your costume.”

He glanced down at his loose cotton T-shirt and those wickedly worn jeans. “Guy next door?”

Huh. Funny. “I meant the ghost. Why’d you take it off?”

“I’m not so great with scissors. I cut the eye holes too small and couldn’t see where the hell I was going.”

She laughed. Chaz had never had much hand-eye coordination. But she’d bet he could do some utterly amazing things with those hands now, and the heavily-lashed green eyes were enough to make a girl melt.

“Still a fan of the homemade costume, huh?”

“My mother would kill me if I got a store-bought one.”

Yeah. She remembered. Their moms had coordinated outfits every holiday, though they couldn’t always please everybody. One year, when she’d wanted to be Sailor Moon, she’d had to go as a stupid Power Ranger instead because it was Chaz’s favorite show. She’d even had to be the yellow ranger, since his spoiled sister had called dibs on the pink one.

She’d repaid him by stealing every one of the chocolate bars from his trick-or-treat bag and replacing them with raisins.

Lord, she’d been such a little terror.

Chaz hadn’t been the only one with a pesky younger sibling—her brother was his sister’s age. The four of them had grown up together, squabbling, competing. It hadn’t been all-out war, though, until their siblings started dating in high school—and then had a messy breakup. She wasn’t sure Lawrence had ever got over Sarah dumping him. But that had happened after Chaz had left home. He might not even realize that his sister was a heartbreaking butthead.

“I had no time to figure out something more elaborate,” he explained. “I only decided to come here about an hour ago.”

“That’s some serious last-minute costume design,” she said.

“Hey, cut me some slack. I just got back into town this morning after a long overseas trip. I hadn’t even remembered it was Halloween until I got home and saw the decorations. Good thing I had a clean sheet in my linen closet.”

“And good thing it was plain white and didn’t have Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles all over it.”

He barked a laugh, raising a brow, as if surprised she’d remembered those sheets or those turtles he’d been so obsessed with.

“I think I’ve outgrown my mutant turtle days.”

“Strictly into human ninjas now, huh?”

His eyes twinkled. “Yeah, that’s it. Unfortunately, I haven’t found a California-king sheet set with little black-cloaked ninja dudes on them.”

Mmm. Big bed. For a big guy. With big hands. And a big...

“I’m afraid I’m stuck with boring, non-decorative sheets.”

She swallowed and forced her mind back to light small talk and away from thoughts of his sheets. Or his bed. Him in his bed... “I’ll keep an eye out for ninjas for you. Unless you’d prefer Transformers.”

“Nah, I’m good.” He grinned and the earth rocked a bit. “Though, if you see black satin, let me know. I might be tempted to play ninja.”

She gulped, wondering when on earth he’d gotten so damned confident. He was easygoing, sexy, masculine and totally comfortable in a room full of people. No longer the male wallflower, the kid whose shoelaces were tied together by bullies, or who got picked last for the baseball team because he’d dropped a fly ball and lost the big game in fourth grade.

No. He was all sexy, powerful, enticing, grown-up man. And she just had no idea what to think about that.

“You must be awfully tired,” Viv said, interjecting herself into the playful conversation. “After traveling all day.”

Funny, Lulu had almost forgotten she was there. Amelia, too. Chaz, while offering the other two women a polite smile, hadn’t paid a moment of attention to either of them. That made Lulu feel better—her old childhood nemesis/friend hadn’t come over merely to get Lulu to introduce him to Viv, who usually cast other females in the shade. Lulu wasn’t sure whether it was because Viv was so beautiful, or because she was such a stone-cold bitch to most men that they felt challenged to break through the ice. Her costume, a sexy devil, seemed more than a little appropriate. As did Amelia’s, who was dressed as a cute rag doll, complete with a yarn wig she’d made herself using supplies from her craft shop.

Hmm. She wondered if Chaz would say she, too, was appropriately costumed for her personality.

“I guess I am tired,” he admitted.

“I’ll say. Sounds like all you can think of is your bed,” Viv said, her smile still knowing, a wicked gleam in her eyes.

Chaz didn’t nibble at the bait. In fact, he didn’t even seem to notice he was being flirted with. “I probably shoulda crashed, but I was in need of some American holiday fun. There’s not a single piece of candy corn in Pakistan. So I decided to come out to combat the jet lag.”

“And eat candy corn?” Lulu asked, unhappy Viv was working her vixen magic on her old friend. Well, her old something.

“Exactly. Have any on you?”

“I’m all out. I guess you’ll have to trick-or-treat through the neighborhood on your way home.”

“I forgot my sack.”

“Then you’re just out of luck.”

He sighed. “Day late and a treat short. Story of my life.”

Yeah. Because of mean girls who stole his candy bars.

She didn’t bring that up, though. No point reminding him of her antics if there was any chance in hell he’d forgotten them.

As if. That’d be like Batman forgetting the Joker’s antics. Once an arch nemesis, always an arch nemesis.

Not that she’d ever really considered Chaz her nemesis, arch or otherwise. But he might have one or two reasons to think she was. Including a crooked tailbone.

“Well, pull up a chair and join us,” said Viv, scooting over to make room for him. She cast Lulu a piercing look, waiting for her to officially introduce them.

She was about to, but he cut her off.

“Actually, I just wanted to see if you’d like to dance,” he said, staring down at Lulu, his gaze wavering between friendly and intense. She had to wonder if he, too, had been shocked by the changes nine years had wrought. She didn’t much resemble the stringy-haired, braces-wearing seventeen-year-old he probably remembered from his high school graduation party. The one when she’d pushed him into the swimming pool, fully clothed, because he’d called her flat-chested.

To be fair, she had been a late bloomer. Of course, he hadn’t really needed to point that out in front of all their friends and family.

She sat up a little straighter and thrust that no-longer-flat chest out the tiniest bit.

His gaze shifted. He noticed. She noticed him noticing.

“Well?” he asked, his voice dropping to a more intimate tone. “What do you say?”

“Uh...you really want to dance? With me?”

She was pretty sure the only time they’d ever danced together was when they’d had to be square-dancing partners in gym class in middle school. It hadn’t gone well. Holding hands with Chaz had been way too weird for her twelve-year-old self. Her hands had gotten sweaty, her breath short, and she’d had the strangest fluttering in her stomach.

She now suspected what the sweating and fluttering had been all about. She had liked Chaz’s blushes, despite what she’d said to her mother. But back then, never wanting to admit such a thing, she’d convinced herself that holding hands with Chaz Browning was enough to make her want to throw up.

So she’d done what any bratty twelve-year-old would do. She’d stuck out her foot and tripped him during their do-si-do.

Little bitch.

“You know how to dance, right?” Another green twinkle—how had she never noticed he had the most interesting golden streaks that cut through the irises, looking like starbursts? “I mean, it’s pretty easy—you just try to find the beat in the music and move around to it.”

She licked her lips, hearing the band finishing “Time Warp,” which immediately made her think of pelvic thrusts—not something she should be thinking about when it came to Chaz. Luckily the musicians segued right into a torchy version of “Witchcraft.” That somehow seemed appropriate, given her costume, and the fact that she felt as if someone had cast a spell on her. The song was slower, jazzier, and would necessitate close-up dancing, with hands and bodies in direct contact. And though her mind decided that was even riskier than pelvic thrusts, her legs launched her out of her chair immediately.

“Sure.”

She let him take her hand and pull her toward the crowded dance floor. When he grabbed her hips and pulled her close, she swallowed hard, trying to maintain her smile. Could he feel her crazily-beating heart or see the way her pulse thrummed in her throat? And was there any way in hell he didn’t know that some of her most female parts were standing at attention as their bodies brushed together?

Lulu waited for him to say something—Welcome to D.C., How’s the new place?, How are your folks? But he remained silent, merely moving his thigh between her legs as they swayed.

Lord have mercy. Though she’d often imagined having Chaz’s throat between her hands so she could strangle him for saying something that totally pissed her off, she’d never fantasized about having any part of him between her thighs.

He’d been gone from her life before she’d realized stomach flutters and thigh clenching were definite signs of lust.

But now her body was reacting to him in a way she’d never allowed her mind to. There was no mistaking her reaction for anything except excitement. Her palms were sweating and her whole body felt hot and sticky, as though if she didn’t get her clothes off, she would melt right into a puddle of want in the middle of the dance floor.

God, he was so big and strong compared to the boy she’d known. Powerful, male, appealing enough to stop hearts. His chest was so broad it could be used as a life raft. She couldn’t help twining her fingers in his longish hair, tousled from the sheet, shaggy from a few months’ travel.

The truth slammed into her, hard and life-changing.

She wanted him. Badly. Lulu wanted to go to bed with Chaz Browning and see if all the years of angry tension between them could be erased by erotic tension.

If only he were some random guy she’d just met, and the baggage of an entire childhood of fighting and competing, not to mention family drama, didn’t stand between them. If only he were just a sexy stranger like Schaefer, albeit one with charm, easy wit and personality.

Unfortunately, he wasn’t a stranger. Despite how closely he held her, Chaz couldn’t possibly have forgotten her childhood shenanigans and his own disdain toward her. There was no way he’d look at her as anything but the bane of his youth and the scorn of his adulthood. Plus there was the family-connection burden of looking after her. His email had said he’d promised his mom he’d do exactly that once he was back in the country, like she was some high schooler on a field trip to the big bad city. An inconvenience. A brat.

No, anything remotely resembling a sexual connection between her and Chaz was simply out of the question. She was just going to have to go home and get cozy with her vibrator, or say to hell with it and bang the boring guitar player. Anything to avoid letting Chaz realize he’d affected her so deeply. That would be worse than the sweaty hands/square dancing incident.

“The music’s good tonight,” he finally said. “Schaefer and his band have improved since the last time I heard them play.”

“You know him?”

“Yeah, he’s sort of a regular in the neighborhood and he was a soloist for a while. But he was a bit of a hippie. He’d get into trouble, sneaking out of upbeat background music and into some depressing, sixties, psychedelic-mushroom ballad once in a while. Talk about a mood killer. The bar owners threatened to ban him.”

“Do you know his first name?”

Chaz grinned. “I do.”

“What is it?”

“If I told you, I’d have to kill you. He made me promise.”

“Must be a doozy.”

He nodded slowly. “Let’s just say...it’s appropriate.”

“Can’t I bribe it out of you?”

“What’ll you give me?”

“All the Tootsie Rolls from my goodie bag?”

“I’m not interested in candy,” he told her, that half smile lingering on a mouth so kissable it made her own go dry.

“I thought you were jonesing for candy corn.”

“Maybe I’d rather taste something else sweet.”

Whoa. The twinkle in his eye and the flash of that dimple took the light comment and brought it up to flirtatious—maybe even suggestive—level. It was totally unlike anything he’d ever said to her. She had to wonder how many drinks he’d had, or if he’d been drinking them on an empty, jet-lagged stomach. She just didn’t believe a sober Chaz would’ve made that kind of comment—not to her, anyway.

“Like what?” she asked, her tone just as flirty and suggestive, calling his bluff. She knew he’d put a stop to the conversation any second, but couldn’t deny she was having fun while it lasted.

“That drink left your lips looking very red and delicious.”

Good God, was he going to kiss her? The way his gaze focused in on her face said he was considering it, and her heart pounded in her chest. It was crazy. They hadn’t even played doctor as kids, much less snuck even the most innocent of kisses. But he was eyeing her mouth as if he was parched and needed to positively drink from her.

“I have to admit, this conversation is taking me by surprise,” she said, hearing the breathiness in her own voice and wondering what he would make of it.

“You can’t be surprised that I think you’re beautiful.”

“I most certainly am,” she said with a forced smile. Chaz, the boy who’d once called her a soul-sucking leech, thought she was beautiful?

Yeah. He had to be drunk.

“Every man here thinks it,” he said, sounding totally serious. “I saw you the minute I walked in and couldn’t take my eyes off you.” Glancing down at her body, he smiled wickedly. “You surprised me. I always assumed witches were old and ugly.”

“Only bad witches are ugly,” she pointed out, catching his Wizard of Oz reference.

“And you’re a very good witch?”

“Some would debate that. Maybe I’m a little of both.”

“Which witch are you tonight?”

“Which witch do you hope I am?”

His green eyes glittered under the dance floor lights. “Maybe a little of both.”

Hmm.

“Just remind me not to drop a house on you.”

“Or douse me with water,” she said with a grin, liking how easy they were with each other. Old friends flirting a little, reminiscing a little. Because they were both exploring a shared memory.

It had been her eleventh Halloween. She’d wanted to be a Spice Girl, but in a repetition of the Sailor Moon fiasco, of course the boys wouldn’t go for what she wanted, so they’d all done a Wizard of Oz thing. Chaz had been the Scarecrow, Lawrence, her brother, the Tin Man, her dog was Toto, and Chaz’s dog was the Cowardly Lion. Only, as if he understood his role and wasn’t happy about being labeled a coward, the ornery beagle had wriggled out of his lion mane and hidden it in his doghouse before they’d even started trick-or-treating.

As for the rest...well, of course Sarah had been Dorothy and Lulu had been the Wicked Witch of the West. Complete with green flour paste all over her face, a scraggly wig, horrific hat and butt-ugly dress. Not exactly the Posh Spice she’d pictured.

She was pretty sure Sarah was the one who’d gotten raisins in place of chocolate bars that year. Hell, maybe all of them had.

“One thing’s for sure, I don’t ever remember witches wearing black leather bustiers,” he said.

“Or spider-web patterned tights?” she said with an eyebrow wag. She so loved the tights.

“The skirt and those heels don’t hurt, either.”

Yeah, most witches probably didn’t wear flouncy, lacy black miniskirts, or screw-me shoes with silver chains around the ankles. All of which she’d donned to attract a guy who now held absolutely no interest for her, and which had instead drawn the eye of one she’d known forever, but had never really allowed herself to see until now. Strange, strange world.

“Back to the point. I noticed you, and then you smiled at me.”

Yes, she had. A big, friendly, please-don’t-figure-out-what-I’ve-been-thinking smile. “So I did.”

“You have an amazing smile. Welcoming and uninhibited.”

His tone was sincere, his eyes gleaming with something she couldn’t quite place. Tenderness? Maybe that. Chaz had always had a nice, tender streak, which other kids had tried to crush. Her included, on occasion.

“When I saw that gorgeous smile, and realized it was directed at me, I figured you felt it, too.”

“Felt what?” Right now all she felt was dazed by words she’d never expected to hear from him of all people.

He lifted a hand and dragged it through a long strand of her glittery, red-dyed hair, rubbing it lightly, then twining it in his fingers. “Attraction. Heat.”

His bluntness shocked her. “Are you serious?”

“Completely.”

She couldn’t speak, honestly could not find a word to say.

“I’ve surprised you again?”

Nodding slowly, she admitted, “Just a bit.”

“Sorry. I’ve been out of the country too long. I’ve lost my manners and forgotten how this game’s supposed to be played.”

“Are we playing a game?”

“Oh, yeah.”

He breathed deeply to inhale the scent of her hair, and lightly, oh, so lightly, kissed her temple, just above the edge of the mask.

She managed to stay upright at this first-ever kiss between them, even though worlds rocked and tides changed and planets skipped out of orbit at the brush of his lips on her skin.

Every instinct she owned was telling her that this wasn’t Chaz, that he’d been replaced by a doppelgänger who didn’t hate her, who saw her as the sensual woman she’d become and not the mean-spirited kid he’d once known. What other explanation was there? A dream?

This is really happening, isn’t it?

“What kind of game?” she finally asked.

Another brush of soft lips on her pulse point, then he inhaled deeply, as if imprinting her scent on his memory. “The kind that ends with us in bed.”

“Holy shit.”

He laughed. “Shocked you that time, huh?”

“Oh, hell yes.”

“Sorry. It’s just been a long while since I’ve been with anyone. A long time since I’ve wanted to, to be perfectly honest. And the minute I saw that smile, I just...wanted you.”

How on earth could this sexy, forthright, demanding guy have been born out of the shy, nerdy boy she’d known?

“I know it’s quick, and it’s crazy. I don’t usually do this. Actually, I don’t think I’ve ever moved so fast with a woman in my life. But the truth is, I want to take you out of here and have sex with you like the sun’s not gonna come up tomorrow.”

Whoa.

This time, she couldn’t keep her feet steady. Her ankle twisted and she stumbled in the attractive-but-miserably-uncomfortable high heels. If he hadn’t had his arms wrapped around her, she would have fallen right at his feet.

“Okay, point taken. I’m going too fast,” he said as he held her tightly against him, so she could feel every rope of muscle, each ounce of masculinity. Including a ridge in his pants that said he was not in any way, shape, or form a boy. He was all, total, 100 percent powerful man.

“Fast? You could be in a car commercial about going from zero to one-twenty in ten seconds flat.”

“Sorry,” he said with an I’m-not-really-sorry shrug. “Let’s back up, play this the normal way, with introductions. I’m not mysterious like the guitarist. My name’s Chaz. What’s yours?”

Gasping, she stumbled over her own feet again. Chaz tightened his grip on her hips, preventing her weak, suddenly trembling legs from giving out on her. Her head spun, her thoughts pinging around like a ball in a pinball machine until the reality settled in and became something she believed.

Son of a bitch.

“My...my name?”

“Yeah. You have one, don’t you?”

She nodded, her brain still scrambling.

He didn’t recognize her. Chaz Browning had no idea who she was. That’s why he could make those suggestive comments to her—he had no clue he’d been making them to the girl he’d grown up with!

The truth of it settled in, and she went over the past several minutes in her mind. He’d seen her, noting the costume, and of course the mask that covered two-thirds of her face. But he hadn’t recognized her, Lulu, the bane of his childhood.

Actually, it did make sense. It was stupid of her to think he would have recognized her at a glance, across a crowded bar, after nine years. He’d remember her as a kid, and right now she was wearing a very sexy costume, and her hair was red and curly. Why on earth would he have known her?

She should have realized that. In her own defense, she could only say she hadn’t been thinking clearly, she’d been too affected by the grown-up version of the boy she’d known. She was still affected by him, in fact, and growing more so by the minute.

“How potent are those red drinks?” he asked, laughter in his voice. “If they induce amnesia, they should come with a warning label.”

“Pretty potent.”

She smiled weakly as the truth of the situation continued to settle in to all the most adventurous parts of her brain. A world of possibilities opened up like a long road at the start of an exciting journey. She was a stranger to him. Just a sexy stranger, a hot woman Chaz Browning was trying to pick up.

And, although an hour ago she’d never have dreamed it possible, she was seriously considering letting him.

“Umm...let’s hold off on the name thing for a while.”

His eyes widened as if he thought she was kidding. When he realized she wasn’t, he shrugged. “If you say so.”

She did say so, because she was still trying to figure things out. Things like how much she wanted him. Whether she could have him.

Despite the obstacles—their careers, her bratty past that had to have left him hating her, their siblings’ angry relationship, their parents’ lifelong friendship, and all the stolen candy bars and broken tailbones history that said they could never make a relationship work—she found herself wanting him more than she’d ever wanted a man in her life.

Her curiosity ate at her, of course, and the attraction had been instantaneous. But it was more than that. She had known him as a child, and she greatly wanted to know him as a man. Would the sparks they’d shot off each other throughout their lives transition into a different kind of heat altogether?

Just once, for one wild night, could she have him? Take him, be with him, get the longing and the ache out of her system and then go back to being his friend/enemy without hurting anyone or letting things get complicated? Was that possible?

Catwoman and Batman managed it.

Sure. Nemeses to lovers worked sometimes, if only in the short run. Maybe it wasn’t smart, but it was at least possible.

It also sounded very exciting.

There was just one problem. It had to be in the short run. There was no way they could have any kind of future, not with all the baggage and the family issues. Besides, he was an internationally traveling reporter—and she intended to stay right here and change the world in other ways.

Meaning if something happened between them, it had to be a one-shot deal. Something with no drama, no angsting, no questions even.

Which meant Chaz could never know the truth.

If she slept with him tonight, she had to make damn sure he never found out who she actually was. And that meant she had to stay in control.


2 (#ulink_088a70a6-1a51-51ef-a308-90d7009eebdb)

CHAZ HAD MET plenty of beautiful women before.

He’d traveled all over the world covering stories of glamorous spies, interacting with powerful politicians and sexy stars. He’d had a few more lovers than a nice small-town-boy should probably ever admit to having. He’d been in love once, infatuated twice, and in lust dozens of times. But he’d never felt his heart stop beating in his chest at the sight of a woman’s smile.

Until tonight. Until her.

This stranger, this redhead with a half mask that made her dark eyes gleam nearly black, had a smile that could stop the world on its axis. Her amazing body and mysteriously beautiful face had caught his eye the minute he’d entered. But that smile...nations could rise or fall on a smile like that. And now, having her in his arms, he knew there wasn’t much he wouldn’t give to make sure this night ended just as he’d told her he wanted it to. Whether he ever learned her name or not.

“Penny for your thoughts?” he asked when she settled back into his arms, her clumsiness an adorable indicator that she was interested, maybe even turned on, by his suggestive comments.

The music changed, the torchy song swinging into something a little faster, but neither of them separated. They continued the sexy, sultry glide of hip to hip, thigh on thigh.

“My thoughts’ll cost you a nickel,” she said, her voice a bit deeper, throatier than before. As if she was intentionally ratcheting up the flirtation level. She’d gone from sweet to sexy, if only in her tone.

“Inflation sucks.”

“Okay, the first one’s free. One of the things I was thinking is that I should thank you for preventing me from falling on my ass in front of all of these people.”

“Those are some dangerous shoes you’re wearing.”

“It’s not the shoes,” she admitted.

“So, it’s the company?”

“More like the conversation.”

“Should I apologize?”

She snagged a lush lower lip between her teeth, and slowly shook her head. “No. Please don’t. I like a man who says what’s really on his mind. That’s pretty rare.”

“Especially in this city. Honesty is a lost art here.”

She glanced down toward the floor, toward those oh-so-sexy shoes with the silver chains that resembled handcuffs. Damn, the moment he’d spotted them, they’d put some seriously wicked ideas in his head.

Lately, he’d been living in a high-adrenaline, high-risk zone. People in those situations couldn’t hesitate to take risks, even though they never knew what dangers might be lurking around the corner. He apparently hadn’t gotten out of that mindset—out of the need to go for what you wanted the moment you spotted it, because you might not get another chance.

Maybe if he’d met her a week from now, he’d never have told this beautiful stranger what he was really thinking. Maybe as soon as tomorrow, he’d regret having done it.

At this moment, though, looking at her luscious mouth and losing himself in those dark, deep-set eyes, he didn’t regret a damn thing.

“Are you really not going to give me your name?”

She hesitated.

“Do I have to pay for that, too? I’m not sure I have enough nickels. Or any American money at all, to be honest.”

“So I take it I’m buying the first round?”

“Maybe we can go somewhere else where the drinks are cheaper,” he said, staring intently into her dark eyes, wishing he could see her whole face without the admittedly sensual mask.

There was something erotic about her anonymity. He had no doubt she was beautiful beneath the mask, but couldn’t deny the anticipation of removing it was exciting.

“Where did you have in mind?”

“I live a couple of blocks from here.”

She licked those lips, sending another sharp stab of lust surging through him. Damn, the woman was getting to him with every single breath she took. He’d been sexually on edge since he’d left for his trip a few months ago, and certainly hadn’t had any relief during it. Now, knowing her all of fifteen minutes, he was ready to rip her sexy bustier open, yank her skirt off, and explore every delicious inch of her.

“That’s certainly something to keep in mind,” she said. “But didn’t you say we were backing up? I think you’re directionally challenged. That was pretty forward.”

He laughed, enjoying her bluntness, her humor. She was refreshing, challenging and sharp. He was starting to like her as well as want her.

“Okay. Sorry. Backing up.” The music changed, and he said, “Want to go grab a drink? At the bar, not at my place.”

She nodded and let him lead her toward the bar. He shouldered his way in, calling their drink orders to one of the harried-looking bartenders.

“Do you need money?” she asked.

He shook his head. “I was kidding. I can cover it.”

She stuck out her hand. “Okay, then, where’s my nickel?”

Laughing, enjoying everything about her, he dug a coin out of his pocket and dropped it into her hand.

“Ahh, the beautiful feel of cold hard nickels.”

Drinks in hand, he led her away from the table where she’d been sitting with her friends. No way did he want to sit with the shark who’d eyed him like he was chum. He had to wonder what this woman had been doing with somebody like that, since she didn’t seem at all on-the-make as her dark-haired friend did, or, actually, as innocent as the lighter-haired one seemed.

His witch was just right.

Heading toward a small empty high-top in the corner, he put their drinks on it, and then helped her hop up onto a stool. She crossed one leg over the other. The position revealed a devastatingly sexy length of thigh, and he swallowed hard as he took his seat opposite her.

He sipped the drink, having gotten the special for himself, and grimaced. “Yeah. Cough syrup.”

“I warned ya.”

“I had to try one holiday-themed drink, and the only other choice was some green, glow-in-the-dark ectoplasm stuff.”

They talked drinks for a few minutes, and then music. He realized they had very similar tastes. She was a great conversationalist, but he would never remember half of what she said. He just lost himself staring at her and listening to that sexy, throaty voice—which occasionally tipped up into a more normal tone, one that seemed familiar to him somehow. He was about to ask if she had a cold, or if she’d been around a smoker, but she asked him something first.

“So, Chaz, why were you overseas?” she asked, taking over the conversation. That was a good thing, since he wasn’t sure he’d be able to think of anything except how much he was dying to taste that vulnerable spot on the hollow of her throat.

Besides, it was better than Nice weather we’re having.

“I’m a journalist. I was following a story in Pakistan and ended up staying in Islamabad to help with a new media outfit.”

“That sounds exciting.”

“It can be. Some days are just routine, but the situation there is just so...unsettled.” Well, that’s the understatement of the night.

“So I hear.”

Remembering some of the darker parts of his trip—the things he’d seen and wished he could forget—he admitted, “It’s a completely different world.”

One where he’d witnessed some of the worst—but also, he had to concede, some of the best—of humanity. Dirt and poverty warred with decency and a strong desire for a better life. He’d met people he would consider good friends...and others to whom he would never have turned his back for fear of them sticking a knife in it. It had been like living on a high wire for two months, but, quite honestly, it was what he lived for. He’d always hated liars as a kid, and now he got to bring down the biggest and worst all over the world. Still, it was exhausting, and he was glad to be back in the U.S. of A. Particularly at the start of the whole holiday season. His parents hadn’t expected him home for Thanksgiving and he looked forward to calling them tomorrow to tell them he’d be there.

“Were you in real danger?”

“I never really felt like it, except the two times I crossed over into Afghanistan. Things got a little hairy on the second trip.”

She gasped. “Are you crazy? How could you take a risk like that?”

“Chasing a story,” he said, amused at her response. She’d reacted as though she were a disapproving family member rather than a woman he’d just met. “Believe me, there wasn’t a minute when I wasn’t aware of my surroundings.”

“Your family must not have been happy about your being there.”

That inspired a brief laugh. “You think I’m insane? I didn’t tell them!”

He’d swear she was frowning in disapproval beneath that mask. “Maybe it’s good you didn’t. I’m sure your parents would have been terrified for you.”

“Yes, they would have,” he said, wondering if she, too, had overprotective parents. “That’s why I didn’t say anything to them. The trips were in-and-out, neither lasting longer than thirty-six hours. No point in worrying anybody when I was so far away and nothing they could have said would have changed my mind about going anyway.”

“I read about some journalists who were attacked there last spring.”

His hand tightened around his glass, an instinctive reaction, and a familiar pang of sorrow stabbed him in the gut. “Yes, I knew one of them. She was a wonderful photojournalist.” Her death had been part of what made him so conscious of his surroundings for every second of the trip—and so determined to keep doing what he was doing.

Maybe that was also one reason why he was being a little reckless tonight. He’d been tense for weeks, he needed to let loose, shake off the last vestiges of emotional darkness, be around someone exciting and daring. Someone like her.

“All I can say is it’s great to be home where...”

“Where you can proposition a sexy stranger?”

He smiled, incredibly grateful that she’d lightened the mood again. It was as if she’d read his mind and understood he’d gone as far as he wanted to go on the memory-lane trip.

“Uh-oh, I think you were the one who stepped forward that time.”

“Sideways, maybe. The question was related to the subject at hand.”

“So it was.” He tossed back the rest of his drink, stood, and offered her his hand. “Let’s dance again.”

She immediately rose, twining her soft fingers with his. He squeezed lightly, wondering why he had such a sudden, shocking feeling of rightness at it being there. Funny, how quickly she was affecting him.

They were back on the dance floor, swaying to another bluesy Halloweenish song, when he remembered what she’d said back at the table. “So, you think you’re sexy, do you?”

“I think you think I am.”

Sexy enough to stop his heart. “Oh? You seem pretty self-assured.”

“Well, you gave me a hint with your have-sex-like-the-sun-isn’t-gonna-come-up-tomorrow line.”

“That wasn’t a line,” he said, his voice steady, resolute. “It was a promise.”

She wobbled again. Damn, he loved rocking her out of her spike-heeled shoes that were more of a sexual invitation than a foot covering.

“Now who’s the self-assured one?” she whispered.

“I guess that makes us a good pair.”

“I wasn’t the one who made suggestive comments about suns not rising.”

“But you didn’t slap my face and walk away, either.”

“No, I didn’t.”

She lifted her chin and squared her shoulders, so obviously trying to regain the upper hand, he almost laughed. “So, the whole sun-not-coming-up thing. What does it mean, anyway? Aside from the obvious.”

He quirked a brow. “Huh?”

“Why would the sun not coming up make the sex better? Is it because it would go on so long since the night would never end?”

She tried to sound arch and noncommittal, but he could already read this woman very well. Part of her was urging him on, another trying to throw up artificial barriers to buy herself time to figure out where on earth they were going with this attraction.

“Or do you need to be in the dark?” She gasped a little, the sound over-exaggerated. “Are you...deformed in some way?”

“Wicked witch coming out to play?” he said with a lazy grin, not letting her get the rise out of him she was trying to.

“Do you like her?”

“A lot.”

“Maybe you haven’t seen her at her wickedest yet.”

He couldn’t make it out entirely, but he’d swear he could see a twinkle in those dark, mask-encircled eyes. She was teasing him. Daring him. Two steps forward again.

“I look forward to it. To answer your question, I have no problem in the light or the dark. I’m quite comfortable getting naked and utterly wild in broad daylight.”

She quivered the tiniest bit before replying, “You certainly did put on a show here.”

He tilted his head to the side, curious as to what she meant.

“When you were taking off your sheet, you pulled your shirt almost all the way off.” Wagging an index finger at him, she said, “You had to have noticed. Were you just showing off that back and those shoulders?”

He barked a loud laugh, hearing the compliment hidden within the complaint. “I swear, I didn’t realize it right away.”

She harrumphed. “Well, every woman in the place did.”

Including her. How nice.

“By the way,” he said, remembering he’d never answered her question, not surprising given the strange turns they’d taken in this twisty conversation, “I was thinking more along the lines of last-night-on-earth sex.”

Her brow furrowed, then she realized what he was talking about. “Ah. We’re back to the sun not coming up?”

“Right.” Wondering if she would notice his own determined eye twinkle, he took the charm up a notch. “You know, the world’s gonna end, you have a few hours left, how else do you spend it?”

“Catching up on The Walking Dead? Eating pizza?” Step back.

He didn’t let her distract him. Forward. Like dancing. “I was thinking more along the lines of lying naked in someone’s arms.”

Another flick of that pretty pink tongue on her lush lips.

She remained silent, not moving in either direction.

So he verbally advanced again...and again.

“Touching, tasting, exploring every erotic possibility. Giving and receiving so much pleasure, the experience leaves a mark on the world that lasts through the end of time.”

“Well, I suppose that sounds better than zombies.”

“Thanks.”

She pulled her hand away and smoothed her hair, lifting it off her neck as if she’d suddenly gotten very hot. Still, she tried her best to regain control. “You know, that mark on the world wouldn’t last very long if the world was ending.”

Jesus, the woman was killing him here. He couldn’t guess which witch he was going to get from one moment to the next. Not that it mattered. He just wanted to kiss her, to screw her, to laugh with her.

“I was speaking metaphorically. I’m a writer. Sue me.”

“Do you really think the earth would end if the sun didn’t come up?” she asked. “I mean, just to clarify, I realize you’re a writer, not a scientist, but it’s possible something would survive to...”

He cut her off. “I don’t care. I just know the earth might end if I don’t get to kiss you soon.”

She giggled.

“Cheesy?”

“Maybe a little.”

“How’s this? If you don’t come home with me and let me fuck your brains out tonight, I might never get over it.”

Those beautiful lips parted and she breathed across them, breathy sighs in every exhalation. She stared up at him, searchingly, questioningly, and he never broke the stare, letting her see he didn’t regret the words and truly meant them.

“You surprise me more and more, Chaz.”

“In a good way?”

A slow, deliberate nod as she assessed him, brown eyes glowing. “Definitely. And FYI, I don’t think I’d ever get over it, either.”

Oh, thank God.

They danced a little more, but now a thick, sexual silence built between them, surging louder and hotter as the music underscored everything they’d said, everything they’d fantasized, everything they wanted. He had no doubt she was thinking the same thing he was—about getting out of here, being alone somewhere. He couldn’t wait to find out if these incredible sparks they shot off each other would start a blaze with their first real kiss and become volcanic in bed.

The music shifted again, this time to a faster song that didn’t necessitate slow dancing. Both of them ignored that, though, and kept close, swaying, thrusting, mindless and silent. Every brush of her body against his, every shared breath, every stroke of his fingers against the small of her back or press of his thigh against hers was heightening things to ever more intense levels. Her hands did wild and wicked things, riding low on his hips. She kissed his throat, scraping her teeth along his collarbone, which made him groan lightly and repay her in kind until the groan was hers.

Finally, she stopped moving and inched away from him. She distanced herself enough to suck in a few deep, calming, audible breaths. Her lips were full, swollen, her eyes luminous behind the mask. Her whole body was pink and flushed. Her nipples were pebbled, visible even beneath the sexy bustier. A warm, womanly scent rose from her, filling his head, making his mouth water and his brain fog as he realized just how aroused she had become.

Other people on the floor merely moved around them, grinning, casting knowing looks, aware he and his mystery woman had been all but having sex in the middle of the crowd. He’d bet they weren’t the only ones.

“Are you okay?” he asked. He wondered if she’d drag him out the door, which was what he most wanted her to do. He mentally held his breath, waiting for her to decide.

“I was getting overheated,” she said.

“I noticed,” he said, realizing if she listened hard enough, she wouldn’t hear teasing, but pure, utter desire in his words.

A long pause. A longer stare.

“I feel like I’ve known you forever,” he admitted, wondering why everything about her appealed to him so deeply.

Wrong thing to say, apparently. She stiffened the tiniest bit. And back she stepped.

“I, uh...look, it’s a holiday, we might be acting out of character. I don’t want either of us to do anything we might someday regret.” Her breaths had slowed, her color returning to normal. “So let’s maybe just stay here for a while longer?”

As if he would ever regret making love to this woman? Fat chance. Of course, he’d only met her an hour ago, so he supposed she had a right to slow things down. Again.

He found himself enjoying their sexual dance, the push-and-pull, back-and-forth, a lot. The chase was building his excitement, lifting the anticipation until it hung around them like a vapor.

“I understand. I like dancing with you.”

Her relieved sigh told him she’d been holding her breath physically as well as mentally, waiting to see if he was going to agree to cool off or keep up the flirtation.

“Thanks,” she said, moving into his arms again, though he noticed she kept an inch or two of overheated air between their bodies. “Believe me, I’m not a cock-tease. It’s just...I don’t want either of us to have any regrets.”

“I won’t,” he said, meaning it.

Chaz couldn’t help wondering what was making her so skittish. She was hot and sexy one moment, funny and chatty the next. He liked both personalities, but it was the hot and sexy one he wanted to spend the night with. Still, he already suspected he wanted to have breakfast with funny and chatty.

He supposed he wasn’t thinking about this in the typical-guy one-night-stand way. Chaz had had a few of those—quick lays, hurried goodbyes before the sun rose, scarcely another thought about the encounter. They were perils of a job that required him to travel a lot, rarely leaving him time to settle down and really get to know someone.

Now, though, he would be stateside for a while, possibly. And within hours of getting here, he’d found someone he really did want to get to know. While he could have taken it slow and played the dating game, the night was too wild, their connection too immediate and his desire for her too insistent. But that didn’t mean one night was all he wanted.

Besides, he didn’t know her name, and hadn’t really seen her face yet. No way was he going to let her get away tonight without being sure of both. The woman could hardly hide behind a mask if they spent the whole night engaged in hot, steamy sex. As for her name and number, he’d kiss the info right off her lips if it was the last thing he ever did.

Whatever the name, he could at least try to start solving the mystery of her identity. “So, what about you? What do you do for a living?”

She relaxed in his arms. “I work for a nonprofit group providing microloans to single mothers in third-world countries.”

“I’ve heard of those organizations,” he said, trying to recall the details. “I actually talked to someone about that recently. Can’t remember who.”

Her throat worked visibly as she swallowed, and he felt her tension rise again “Well, it’s a great cause,” she said quietly. “But surely not as exciting as what you do.”

“It’s not about the excitement. Someone needs to hold these liars and fraudsters accountable. Just because they have power, or money or a ‘good reason’ doesn’t excuse the damage they do.”

She blanched and he realized he’d gone too far. “Sorry, I get a little wound up. I’ve been told I have ‘trust issues.’”

“I can understand that, after what happened to your friend. Maybe we shouldn’t talk shop.”

“Okay, no work stuff. So, are you ready to give me your name?”

“Let’s say I prefer to be a woman of mystery tonight.”

He frowned.

“Is that a deal-breaker?”

He considered it, already suspecting one night with her wouldn’t be enough. He’d definitely want to know how to reach her later. But the night was young, and if it ended up where he hoped it would, she’d still be in his arms in the morning. There would be time for details, he had no doubt. For now, the pulsating music, the eroticism of her sultry voice, the lights shining on her red hair, the blood-red remnants of her drink on her lips, the innate hunger...they were enough. Most definitely.

“No. Not a deal-breaker. I doubt you could say anything that would be.”

One corner of her sexy mouth curved up in a tiny smile, and she gave a throaty chuckle. “Never say never.”

Something came to mind. “You’re not married, right?”

“Completely unattached.”

He released the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. “Good.”

“You?” she asked.

“Nope. I’ve been told I’m not marriage material.”

She sneered. “Told by some woman who wanted you to commit before you were ready?”

“That’s pretty perceptive.”

“It’s in the female phrasebook.”

“I need to get one of those.”

“That’ll cost you more than a nickel. State secrets and all.”

“I should already have one, considering I had a bunch of girls around growing up.”

She stiffened slightly in his arms.

“Is family a touchy subject we are supposed to avoid, like witches and going back to my place for a drink?”

“No. I’m just picturing you as a kid.”

“Don’t bother. I was a born loser.”

“I don’t believe that,” she said, suddenly vehement.

“If the word ‘geek’ is in that handbook of yours, my picture’s beside it.”

“Well, I bet the girls you grew up with feel pretty stupid now,” she whispered.

“I doubt it,” he replied, remembering his gawkiest years, when he’d been a skinny, uncoordinated sad-sack. “They wouldn’t recognize me if they fell over me today.”

She mumbled something that he couldn’t catch—something like I know what you mean—which was interesting. Because he had a hard time picturing her ever being anything but gorgeous, and she was unforgettable. He would never forget that smile.

“It’s all right,” he told her. “Believe me, I’m not carrying around any angst from my childhood. Though, I do avoid going back to my small hometown as much as possible.”

She cleared her throat. “You never go home to see your family because of the way other kids treated you?”

“Nah. I go once in a while, not for a few years, though. I’m busy traveling. My parents meet up with me sometimes—last year they came to Berlin when I was on assignment. And I should see my kid sister more now since she just started grad school here in D.C. this semester.”

“Your sister is in the city?” She nibbled her lip. “Where does she go to school?”

“Sarah goes to American University.”

She stopped dancing. “So does La...um, so does somebody I know. Small world.”

“Yeah,” he said, meaning it. He’d traveled enough of it to know. “Can we be done talking about our childhoods and our families now?”

“Oh, yes, please!”

“Good. Let’s get back to discussing how red your lips are.”

“Were we discussing that?”

“If we weren’t, we should have been.”

Her tongue flicked out and moistened those sensual lips, and he had to clench his teeth as the temperature went up another ten degrees.

“I wasn’t lying. I am going to have to kiss you soon.”

Her throat visibly worked as she swallowed. “Are you asking me or telling me?”

“Does it matter?”

He didn’t give her a chance to answer; he couldn’t wait anymore. Those red lips were driving him crazy, and he had to taste her or go completely mental right here on the dance floor. So without warning, he bent and caught her mouth with his. Her lips parted right away, warm, hungry and welcoming, and he kissed her deeply, tasting cherry, whiskey and woman.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, holding him tight, tilting her head and pressing even closer. Her tongue swept against his, thrusting, demanding, and he answered every thrust, each demand. She was sweet and hot, and every cell in his body came to attention, all electricity, fire and need.

Their heartbeats matched, racing, and the kiss went deeper, hotter, wetter. He sunk his hands into her thick, curling hair, and she grabbed his hips, tugging him hard against her, until his hardening cock was nestled low against her belly. They were surrounded in the club, but he didn’t give a damn. He felt as though he needed her mouth to provide the very air in his lungs. Kissing her was like diving head first into a deep well filled with nothing but pleasure and excitement, and he had to forcibly pull his mouth away when he realized they were soon going to reach the point where it would be too agonizing to stop.

When it finally ended, they remained close, his forehead pressed against hers, both of them panting. He was rock-hard against her and she ground against him instinctively, as if her body had already made the decision she hadn’t yet voiced.

“You ready to go get that drink at my place?” he asked, hearing the hoarse need in his own voice.

If she said no, he might just have to go into the bathroom and jerk off. If she said yes, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to make it across the room and out the door without putting a bag over his crotch.

“I don’t usually do this,” she said, as if worried he might think less of her. But how could he, when he was barely capable of thought at all?

“Honestly? Neither do I.”

“So we’re both feeling reckless tonight?”

He scraped his knuckles against her jaw, brushing his thumb over her well-kissed lips. “Maybe it’s because there’s just magic and madness in the air.”

“You might be right,” she said, smiling up at him as she twined her fingers in his hair. “Whatever the reason...yes, Chaz, I am ready to go get that drink.”


3 (#ulink_7c8406df-adc2-5588-bbc2-707e8691244f)

LULU DIDN’T QUESTION her decision or second-guess herself. She simply laced her fingers with Chaz’s, and let him lead her back over to her table so she could grab her things and say good-night. Viv had gone to the dance floor and was gyrating in the middle of a mosh pile of guys, and Amelia was talking to someone at the next table. As Lulu grabbed her purse and coat, Amelia raised a curious eyebrow but didn’t ask any questions, merely wishing her a Happy Halloween and smiling at Chaz. Blessing the more tactful of her two friends, she let Chaz drag her out of the bar, both of them desperate to find someplace to be alone.

Lulu wasn’t going to allow herself to think about how crazy this was. Nor could she dwell on how their families might react. She suspected all four parents would like the idea of the two of them together romantically, but they probably wouldn’t love the whole one-night-stand thing, which was all this was going to be.

Hell, she couldn’t even imagine how Chaz himself would react if he knew who she was! She was just going to do it—take something she wanted, and then let it go, content with the memories of an amazing experience that would be her secret forever more.

They got outside and the sharp October air filled her lungs, redolent with the scent of a log fire burning nearby. Everything about the night revealed the pleasures of autumn—a season she’d missed when going to college and grad school in Arizona. Dry leaves rustled on the trees and blew gently across the sidewalks. The stars filling the sky weren’t too dimmed by the city lights, and the air was cold enough so little puffs were visible when they exhaled.

Dupont Circle was an area popular with people her age—young professionals, new grads, maybe a few families, but certainly none were out this late for any candy-begging. Inside every bar and coffeehouse, though, loud music played and voices could be heard even through closed doors. Few lingered on the streets. By now, folks in costume had arrived at their preferred holiday destinations and were staying inside, as an early cold snap had made D.C. a chilly place to be outside at this time of night.

“It’s a perfect night for being wicked,” she said, keeping her voice low, thick and throaty, as she’d tried to do once she’d realized he didn’t know who she was. She might very well see him as herself in a few days and did not want to make herself so easily recognizable.

“I agree. I’m planning all kinds of wickedness with you.”

“Are you sure you’re not interested in candy corn anymore?” she asked with a flirtatious grin. “You could always try to find an all-night convenience store.”

“Definitely not,” he replied, dropping an arm across her shoulders, tugging her tightly against his body as they walked. “I wouldn’t walk away from you right now if sweet old Lady Larsen from my hometown showed up with a whole box of Snickers bars.”

A giggle escaped her lips but she quickly silenced it. As a stranger, she shouldn’t know about old Lady Larsen, a neighbor of theirs when they’d grown up. She’d always given out full-size candy bars on Halloween. Every kid in town had hit her house.

“How far away is your place?” she asked, to cover her near-miss.

“Just a couple of blocks away,” said Chaz.

Lulu already knew that. When his real estate agent had shown her the available rental properties around here, she’d pointed out the cute townhouse Chaz had bought last year. It was a couple of doors down from the carved-up brownstone in which Lulu had an apartment. They were almost as neighborly as they’d been growing up. Yikes.

That would make things very uncomfortable if he found out who she was, but should also make her getaway easier tonight.

“Will you be okay walking there in those shoes?” he asked, staring down at her feet with a frown.

“I’ll be fine,” she insisted, ready to run if it meant they could be alone and could get back to that crazy-wild-delicious kissing. And everything that came after it.

She’d walked to the bar, too. But she didn’t reveal that, not wanting to let on that she lived around here. She was already being very careful, unwilling to leave him too many clues.

Of course, she might be overestimating her own sexual potency. Maybe tonight would be forgettable, and Chaz would never again wonder about the red-haired, green-masked witch he’d seduced on Halloween night. But she doubted it. Their chemistry was strong. She suspected the encounter would be something they’d both long remember.

“I’m glad it’s close,” she said. “I don’t want to wait too long for that wickedness you promised.”

They’d walked for less than a minute, hadn’t even rounded the corner to turn onto his—their—street, but Chaz pulled her off the sidewalk into the shadows beside a credit-union building. “You don’t have to wait another second.”

She threw her arms around his neck and tugged him to her, parting her lips before they met his. They tasted each other as thoroughly as they had on the dance floor, but this was slower, less frantic, more erotic. The pulsing, seething hunger was there, but, as if they both knew it would soon be satisfied, they were content to kiss like pleasure-seeking lovers and not like strangers trying to figure out if one kiss was all they’d have.

Sharing merely one kiss with Chaz would have been a crime for the ages, she realized as he cupped her face in his hands and tilted his head. Their tongues danced. He swallowed down her sighs, tasting her, teasing her. His subtle cologne wafted to her nostrils and she went softer and wetter as the scent imprinted a sense memory in her, one she knew she would recall forever when she smelled his fragrance.

She couldn’t wait to touch him. Remembering how easily the shirt had glided over that incredible body, she slid her hands around his lean hips, and pushed up. The shirt moved with her fingers, leaving her free to explore that hot male flesh. His body rippled with muscle, and was slick with desire-stoked sweat. She touched him, explored him, wanting to taste her way along every ridge and line.

“Christ,” he mumbled against her mouth when she scraped her nails across his bare back.

Inflamed, he picked her up by the waist, wrapping her legs around his hips and supporting her entire weight. He swung around, bracing her against the building, kissing her more desperately. One big, powerful hand stroked the outside of her thigh, pushing up under the skirt.

The heat and friction of his fingers against the patterned tights heightened her awareness. She was conscious of every single sensation battering at her senses. Being completely in his control, held by him, explored by him, she closed her eyes and enjoyed it. Maybe it was the holiday, or the eroticism, or the drinks...something was making her lose every inhibition and give herself over to him and those magical hands.

Despite the possibility of discovery, he seemed unable to stop himself from touching her. Reaching up under her skirt and tugging at the waistband of her tights, he got them low enough to delve into.

“Naughty girl,” he whispered against her mouth when he realized she wore no panties.

“Very naughty. Because right now, I wish the tights were crotchless,” she admitted.

“I’d give a year off my life if they were,” he said.

He made do by pulling the tights down a bit more, until he was holding her bare ass, stroking, squeezing.

“Mmm,” she groaned, wanting more than anything for him to pull her legs even farther apart, opening her to him so he could slam into her right now.

He lifted her higher, shocking her with his strength. Long gone was the uncoordinated, weak little kid. She wondered if he now liked to pick up cars in his spare time.

Holding on to her with one arm, he began a determined, erotic exploration with his other hand. He pushed the tights down farther, until he could slide his hand between her cheeks. He touched her intimately, the sensations wickedly erotic, making her gasp with shocked pleasure. Her gasps turned into needy pleas as his fingers moved deeper, reaching the curls covering her sex and tangling in them. Lulu arched eagerly toward the touch, wanting everything and more from him.

“I wanna drop to my knees and bury my face here,” he said, his need making him handle her roughly, clenching her so tightly she’d probably have bruises tomorrow.

She didn’t care, wanting him as hot and crazed and out-of-his-mind as he was making her.

“Yes, oh please,” she groaned, wanting him to move those fingers just a tiny bit more so he could slip one inside her.

He shifted her to try to grant her unspoken wish, but the rough brick of the building scraped her hip, scratching her sharply. Lulu hissed in pain.

“Oh, God, I’m sorry.” He immediately pulled her away from the wall, still holding her tightly, her legs around his hips. “I wouldn’t hurt that magnificent ass for anything—not when all I want to do is nibble it.”

“I’m not sorry,” she said, pressing frantic kisses on his mouth. “It’s worth it, and you can nibble away.” Feeling the cold air against her exposed bottom, she giggled. “Though it is a little cold.”

“I guess we should go.”

“Just get me to the nearest warm place and finish what you started,” she urged, not sure she’d have the patience to walk blocks at this point. Nor that her legs would carry her.

Chaz turned to glance around. If a seedy, rent-by-the-room hotel had been across the street, she would have raced him to it, but no such luck.

Still, a smile crossed his lips. Lulu followed his stare, seeing his gaze had landed on the door of the credit union. It had an after-hours key-card lock for customers to use the ATM in the vestibule. He studied it for a moment, then looked at her and lifted a suggestive brow.

“You wouldn’t dare,” she said, her tone amused and a little taunting. Was she egging him on? She honestly wasn’t sure.

“Watch me.”

“A camera will be watching you.”

He glanced back toward the bar they’d left. “Damn. I forgot my sheet. We can’t be unidentifiable ghost and witch.”

“You would pull a sheet over us, take me in there and...?”

“Oh, hell yes. Right this very minute.” He edged closer to the door. “Of course, maybe we don’t need the sheet. If we’re very careful, and you keep your mask on....”

“Are you an exhibitionist?” she asked, half shocked, more than half aroused. The vestibule was fully exposed right inside the building, and fairly well lit. Though nobody was around to watch, there could be at any moment.

“Honestly, I don’t give a flying fuck who sees us. I just want to touch you, get my fingers in you, see if you’re as tight and wet as I think you are.”

She had to close her eyes as more blood rerouted toward her sex. The man was intoxicating and aggressive, nothing like the boy she’d known, and his demands rang with sexual confidence.

“But there must be cameras,” she said, her protest sounding weak to even her ears.

“There’s just one in the machine, recording anybody right in front of it. It can’t catch all the corners and sides.”

“Are you sure?”

“I bank here. I’m pretty sure. But we can go in and check.”

She felt herself weakening.

“Just a quick exploration,” he begged, kissing her throat, then scraping the tip of his tongue down to the tops of her breasts. “Throw a starving man a bone so I’ll have the strength to get us back to my place. I’ll carry you home, just like this, and save you from those wicked shoes, if I can just take a tour of your delicious body right now.”

She held on tight, her fingers digging into his shoulders as she urged him on. “Do it.”

Letting her down, he grabbed her hand and pulled her with him to the front of the building. “I’ve never been more glad that I bank here,” he said as he pulled out his wallet.

He removed his debit card, and swiped it in the card reader to unlock the door. She waited as he pulled it open and ushered her in. They were like fish in a bowl, encased in glass, visible to anyone lurking nearby.

She should have been shocked, nervous and ready to bolt. But the utter wickedness of it thrilled her. She hadn’t done anything this daring for as long as she could remember, and the sheer riskiness of it urged her on almost as much as her hunger for him. She needed his hands on her, his mouth on her, but a part of her—the part that had been focused on school and work and hadn’t spared a moment for sex—almost wanted to be seen.

She didn’t spot a soul nearby, and they were surrounded by dark, closed businesses, but they were near lots of parked cars and were only a few buildings up from the bar they’d left.

And then there was the camera. She spotted it embedded in the top of the machine, pointing directly out to catch whoever was standing in front of the ATM. Chaz was already in line with it, and she had to be at least partly visible. No doubt they were already being recorded. But he was right about the tiny neighborhood bank’s security. There were no other cameras in sight—no black domes on the ceiling or in the corners, just the one wired within the ATM, facing out, at about eye level.

They might really get away with this.

“Come here,” Chaz ordered, beckoning her over. “Stand right there, with your back against the wall.”

Understanding what he had in mind, she turned around and backed into the corner directly beside the ATM. It couldn’t possibly capture her image; she was side-by-side with the thing. And if there were any inside cameras, she was completely blocked from them by the interior wall between the vestibule and the lobby.

“I think I’ll check my balance,” Chaz said with a wicked grin as he inserted his card, eyeing her and not the screen.

“I suspect you’ve hit the jackpot,” she teased.

He didn’t even look over at her, exploring only by touch. Shifting slightly to further block the camera’s view of his actions, he reached for her, scraping his fingers across her jaw, her lips, then tracing a line straight down her throat. She felt the touch down to her very toes, wishing his mouth would follow the same trajectory.

When he reached her bustier, he easily untied it, one-handed. She arched toward him, loving the brush of his warm skin against the sensitive curves. Drawing the laces, he loosened the whole top until it sagged open, and then, only then, did he glance away from the screen to stare at her.

“God almighty,” he whispered, sounding nearly reverent. His eyes were dark with want. His muscles bunched under his shirt and his jaw clenched as he struggled to maintain control. Lulu had never seen a look of such pure, unadulterated want in anyone’s face before.

She couldn’t manage to say a thing as he reached for her breast, cupping it, squeezing gently, stroking his thumb over her hard, sensitized nipple. She was dying for his mouth, but he remained several inches away, pretending to focus only on the cash machine, while secretly pleasuring her just out of sight.

The man’s patience stunned her; she was ready to say screw the camera and leap on him, pull his mouth to her breast and beg him to taste her. But he kept his cool, still blocking her from view of the camera, and from anyone who might walk up to the front of the vestibule.

The side, of course, was another story. She was looking right out into the parking lot, and if somebody approached from that way, they’d notice her standing inside, her top hanging open, her breasts freed and heavy, being caressed by a man who definitely knew how to use his hands.

“Damn, I forgot my pin number,” he said with a chuckle. “You distracted me.”

“Keep trying, you’ll get it sooner or later,” she whispered as she reached down and tugged her skirt up, inch by inch.

He shifted his gaze and watched, hunger dripping from him as he dropped his hand and stroked his way down her belly and between her legs. He cupped her sex and she arched into his touch, dying, spinning, flying, all at the same time. He felt so good, his touch so possessive, as if he were staking his claim to what lay beneath his hand.

“You’re so hot.”

“And getting hotter by the minute,” she groaned.

“Show me.”

He helped her tug the skirt the rest of the way up, and work her tights back down, baring herself from hips to upper thighs.

He couldn’t seem to take his eyes off her. “You are gorgeous. I’ve got to get inside you.”

“That might be difficult from that angle.”

“My cock is just going to have to wait in line.”

Her hips thrust reflexively. “Touch me. Please.”

“Thanks, I think I will,” he said, smiling wickedly as he again reached between her thighs.

He toyed with her clit for a moment, making the world tremble, bringing an orgasm to within tasting distance. While it rattled and thrummed through her, he slipped between the lips of her sex. She was drenched and ready, and his finger slid easily into her sensitive channel.





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