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  "Want some?" She extended her hand, a quivering bit of chocolate filling on her fingertips.

  "Love some." He tried to pretend that he wasn't lying there completely erect and that she didn't have him right where she wanted him. He sucked the chocolate off her fingers and used his tongue to clean off every last morsel. Two could play at this game.

  She definitely responded to the movement of his tongue. Her breathing quickened as she watched him slide it right between her fingers. "Want more?" she murmured.

  "Sure." He met her gaze. There was plenty of filling in that pie. Enough for him to have a little fun, too. He took his time getting the chocolate off her fingers when she gave him a second helping. He sucked on her middle finger a little longer than was necessary, and noticed her shiver.

  "Let's try something else," she said, and her voice trembled, revealing that she wasn't in complete control.

  "Whatever you want."

  "Let's see how this feels." And she smeared the filling over the tip of his penis.

  He moaned. Couldn't help it. The cool, creamy texture against his hot, tight shaft drove him insane. He clutched the sheets beneath him, closing his hands into fists as his muscles bunched, wanting that climax more than life itself.

  Then she began to lick.

  He didn't last very long. "Kasey…" He writhed against the mattress. "Kasey, I'm… I can't stop…"

  "Go ahead," she murmured, right before she slid her mouth down over him and sucked hard.

  Oh, he made noise all right. All his macho pride went right out the window as he climaxed. He told the world about it, made sure everyone in the next county knew that he'd come. And when it was over, he lay panting, his eyes closed, his body drained of every last bit of energy.

  He felt the moment when she released him, felt the silken slide of her body as she moved up the mattress.

  Then she nuzzled his ear and nipped his earlobe again. "Gotcha," she whispered.

  * * *

  Kasey lay down next to Sam, put her hands behind her head and gazed at the dancing shadows created by the candle flame. So this was what sexual liberation was like. She'd always wondered if she had the necessary temperament to be a wild woman. Sam had helped her answer that question.

  Even though they'd eventually have to part ways, she'd always be grateful to him. Maybe she'd needed someone older to guide her through this. A less experienced man might not have gently pushed her to explore her options.

  What a good time she'd had with the whipped cream and the pie. The only unintended side effect was her own arousal. She wondered if Sam would drift off to sleep and leave her to deal with that on her own. If he did, then she would. He'd taught her to take what she wanted.

  And she did ache for another climax. Being with Sam had cranked up her libido, and now one orgasm wasn't nearly enough. She glanced over at him and saw that his eyes were still closed. She'd worked him pretty hard the past two nights. He probably needed his rest.

  Slowly she reached between her legs, where she was very hot and wet. Yes, she needed to come again, maybe even twice. She hadn't understood herself before, but the fact was, she was a highly sexed woman. And a highly sexed woman needed satisfaction.

  "Can I help?"

  With her hand still in position, she turned her head and found that he'd rolled to his side and was watching her. "That's up to you."

  His chuckle was low and intimate. "What progress. You'd give me a repeat performance, wouldn't you?"

  "Or I can let you sleep. Maybe you need to relax and take it easy."

  His eyebrows lifted. "Oh? Are you questioning my stamina?"

  "You seem kind of … wiped out."

  "Well, I've recovered." He circled her wrist with his fingers and lifted her hand, guiding it to his mouth. "And hungry." He licked her damp fingers.

  She quivered, remembering the scene in the hammock the night before. That might have been the true beginning of her transformation. No man had ever given her such unparalleled pleasure. Sam had elevated oral sex to an art form.

  He nuzzled her palm. "Do you like chocolate pie with or without whipped cream?"

  She gulped. "That depends."

  "I'm not sure which I want, either." Releasing her hand, he shrugged out of his shirt. "Lift up."

  "Why?" She thought she knew, and her blood ran hot.

  "You had your turn. Now I want to play. Lift up."

  When she raised her hips off the bed, he shoved his folded shirt underneath her. Then he reached for the pie and the can of whipped cream. "Choices, choices."

  Her heart beat faster as he got up from the bed and walked around to the foot, surveying her the entire time. Not long ago she would have felt vulnerable and exposed if a man had done that. Now she was proud of her body, proud of how completely she'd captured his attention.

  At last he nodded. "I have a taste for both chocolate and whipped cream. I've found the perfect spot to enjoy it, and I want to be comfortable, so we need a small adjustment." After laying the pie and the can of whipped cream on the end of the bed, he leaned over it and grasped her thighs.

  "Sam! What—" But she understood when he scooted her, shirt and all, closer to the end of the bed.

  "Now hold still," he said, a smile in his voice as he repeated her instructions.

  "Yeah, right." Her voice shook. "Like you stayed still while I did this." She lifted her head.

  "Maybe you're stronger than I was." He sank to his knees at the foot of the bed.

  "Maybe." She doubted it, especially considering what he had in store for her. She let her head fall back to the mattress.

  "First, a little chocolate filling."

  She thought she was prepared, but even so, she gasped as the cool substance settled over her hot vulva. The sensation was arousing in a way she never would have imagined. So this was what she'd let him in for a while ago.

  And he wanted to return the favor. No, he wanted to up the ante. Whipped cream under pressure danced across her trigger point, making her moan with pleasure.

  "Ah, I think we need more of that." He licked it away, which only drove her wilder. Then he hit her with another spurt, cleaned her off with his tongue and tried it again.

  She began to tremble violently, closing in on her climax.

  "Now for the chocolate," he murmured, and began lapping, finishing each stroke by paying special attention to the area he'd zapped with whipped cream.

  She'd never felt anything like it. Almost without warning, an orgasm ripped through her, forcing cries of ecstasy from her throat. But he wasn't finished. He stroked on more chocolate and kept going. She was in for an incredible ride.

  This time he had to hold her steady while he licked, because she thrashed around, driven out of her mind by his clever tongue and the powerful undulations that rolled through her again and again. One climax blended into another as she gasped and bucked in his arms.

  When at last he eased her back to the mattress, she was sobbing with gratitude, totally wrung out with the force of her body's response. Her ears rang and every nerve quivered. She was his puppet, his slave. Had he asked her to run away with him, to give up everything to be with him and make love every waking moment, she would have done it.

  Instead he crawled up beside her and gathered her quaking body close to his. Carefully he brushed her hair back from her ear and placed his lips there. "Gotcha," he whispered.

  * * *

  Chapter 13

  «^»

  After the chocolate-pie-and-whipped-cream incident, Sam had no problem persuading Kasey to walk naked into the kitchen with him so they could break out the champagne. "See, I told you we'd have something to celebrate," he said as he opened the refrigerator and pulled out the bottle. It wasn't Dom Pérignon, because he hadn't wanted to be too flashy, but it was a decent brand.

  "You did tell me that." She set a couple of inexpensive wineglasses on the counter. "I guess you've figured out by now that I don't have a lot of the amenities."

  He unscre
wed the wire from the plastic cap on the champagne. "Lady, you have chocolate pie and a can of whipped cream. The amenities don't get any better than that."

  "That was pure accident." Then she seemed to catch herself. "I mean, I knew they might come in handy, but I wasn't sure how you'd react if I suggested something that wild."

  "Oh, come on." He laughed as he grabbed a kitchen towel and covered the top of the bottle so he could twist out the cork. "You don't have to pretend you were all prepared for something like that. I could tell that using the pie was a last-minute inspiration, just like my deal with the hammock was totally unplanned. I think it's great that you're spontaneous. So am I."

  She paused, as if absorbing what he'd said. Then she cleared her throat. "I'm not as sexually experienced as you are. I suppose you've figured that out, too."

  "Well, that makes you just about perfect." He punctured that with the pop of the cork, then poured the champagne into the glasses she'd set on the counter, making sure he didn't spill. "Guys dream about finding a woman who isn't quite as experienced as they are but is ready to try anything."

  "I can't be your dream girl."

  That got his attention. He stopped pouring and looked at her.

  "Well, I'm sorry, but I just can't." She looked like a stubborn little kid.

  He sighed and put down the bottle. "Kasey, what's the deal here? This morning you were ready to ditch me because I came on too strong. Now I make an offhand remark about guys who dream about women like you, and you jump on me as if I've proposed."

  She flushed and looked away. "I know you're not proposing, but it sounded sort of … definite, that's all."

  "It wasn't definite, okay?" But he was sick of her acting like he had cooties. "The thing is, I can't help wondering what you find so objectionable about me that you have to keep reminding me I'm temporary entertainment. Is it my IQ? Is it that I'm not smart enough for you?"

  "That's not fair."

  Instantly he was sorry. She'd probably heard that a hundred times. "Yeah, you're right. I told you I thought it was fantastic that you're smart, and then I used it against you." He ran a hand through his hair. "But whenever you push me away, I can't help wondering why. I lost my temper. I apologize."

  "Maybe I can explain." She took a deep breath. "Let's go in the living room and I'll light the candles."

  "Yeah, let's do that." He hated that the mood was spoiled, but when she'd said, straight out, I can't be your dream girl, it had hit him where he lived. He thought she might be his dream girl, and he didn't like hearing her reject the idea so completely.

  Moments later they were cuddling on her futon couch with the candles burning, and the mood had already improved. He couldn't stay mad at her for long. Besides, he liked snuggling with her.

  He liked it too damn much, as a matter of fact. In a setting like this, he started thinking about how nice it would be to cuddle this way every night, and then go to bed and cuddle some more, and wake up next to each other. He could picture Kasey in that role. But she didn't want him to, for some reason.

  She took an afghan that had been folded across the back of the futon and spread it over them to ward off the breeze from the air conditioner. Then she took a sip of her champagne. "It's good."

  He touched his glass to hers. "So are you. Very good." He didn't make the toast he'd wanted to make, about many more nights like this. She might take it wrong.

  "Sam, I haven't dated a lot, haven't had a bunch of lovers."

  That made him very happy, but he tried to sound sympathetic. "Because of being so smart."

  "That has a lot to do with it, yes. I, urn, used to be sort of a nerd."

  "Looking at you now, that's hard to believe."

  "It's true. Last summer, my … a friend … helped me with a makeover. We did the hair, the clothes, the makeup—all of it."

  He caught her chin in one hand. "So exactly what color are your eyes, really?"

  "Gray. Totally uninteresting." Then she must have realized how that could sound to someone whose eyes were also gray. "Not that your eyes are boring. I like your eyes a lot. You have little flecks of gold in there, but mine are—"

  "Would you take out your contacts so I can see for myself if they're totally uninteresting?" He had a hunch he'd like her better without the blue tint. The more she revealed the authentic Kasey Braddock, the more he liked what he saw. Her personality—part child, part woman—fascinated him.

  "If I take out my contacts, I'll be blind as a bat."

  "I'll bet you have glasses around here somewhere."

  "Glasses!" She stared at him in horror. "As if I'd let you see me in glasses! Talk about blowing the entire image. I think not."

  "Is that why you don't want me to get too close? You're hung up on creating an image? Because I don't care about that."

  "Are you sure?" She skewered him over the rim of her glass. "Think about when we first met. Would you have been as excited about going out with me if I'd walked up to you wearing glasses, dressed in a shapeless denim jumper and with my hair in a braid?"

  He wasn't sure he liked this discussion. "Maybe not," he finally admitted. "But—"

  "See? That's my point."

  "But that look is not you, not your personality. You wouldn't deliberately try to make yourself unattractive."

  "Not deliberately, but that's exactly how I used to dress. Needless to say, I didn't have a lot of offers back then."

  He studied her, trying to picture her the way she'd described. "I'll bet you looked better than that."

  "I could show you pictures."

  "Anybody can take a bad picture."

  "Sam, face facts. If you'd met me a couple of years ago, you wouldn't have given me a second glance."

  Unfortunately, she was probably right. He'd been attracted by her outward appearance, which made him just like all the other guys. He wasn't proud of that.

  But he was nothing if not honest. "Okay, guilty as charged." he said. "I was hooked the minute I saw you get out of your little red convertible with SO REDY on the vanity plate."

  "I'm not surprised … or even offended." She sipped her champagne. "I work in PR, remember? I understand the emotional impact of images. I just didn't have the nerve to apply the principles to myself until recently."

  He could see where this was going. "So you want to catch up on all the fun you missed during your shapeless-denim-jumper phase?"

  "Is that so wrong?" She held his gaze.

  "No, of course not." But it shot the hell out of his dreams. "Now that you've explained the situation, I can't help wondering something. You don't have to answer, but I have a feeling this is important to the discussion. Since your makeover, how many guys have you, uh … been with?"

  "You mean, how many have I had sex with?"

  He sighed. "Yeah, that's what I mean. And I have no right to ask. That's a very personal—"

  "One."

  "Me?"

  "You. I haven't been ready until now. I had to be mentally prepared to live up to my new image, prepared to take on hot guys instead of the nerds I was used to."

  That was good news and bad news—he liked having the distinction of being the first hot guy, especially liked being labeled a hot guy. But she'd implied he would be the first of many. That was very bad news. Her casual-sex period could last for years. After all, his had.

  "So that's why I said we were at different stages in our lives right now," she said. "Eventually I'll need to move on."

  That thought depressed him, so he drank some more champagne.

  "In the meantime, though…" She slipped her hand under the afghan and quickly put his penis on red alert.

  "I see your point." He loved what she was doing under that afghan. "Eventually is a very vague word."

  "But orgasm is not."

  "Nope. Quite specific." And impending, too. He realized there was a problem with walking around naked. No pockets. Much as he hated to do it, he put a stop to her erotic stroking.

  "Bring your champagne,
" he said, throwing back the afghan and standing. "We need to make an expedition back to where the wild condoms grow."

  She laughed. "But I could just—"

  "I know. You were about to accomplish exactly that." He grabbed the champagne bottle and motioned her to go ahead of him down the hall. "But I have a hankering to try this the old-fashioned way."

  "No pies?" she said over her shoulder. "No whipped cream?"

  "That's right." In the dim light of the hallway, he could just make out the inviting sway of her hips and the mouthwatering curve of her butt. He'd like to try doggie style some time, but right now, he had some bonding in mind. "And no contacts," he said as they stepped into the darkened bedroom.

  "You're ridiculous." She set her glass on the nightstand. "Want me to light the candles?"

  "I'd love you to turn on the lamp, instead."

  She pushed the little switch and glanced at him. "Full light and no contacts. Are you trying to demystify me?"

  I'm trying to learn who you are so I can somehow hang on to you. But of course he couldn't say that, so he gave her another reason that was almost as valid. "I'd like to watch your eyes when you come. I want to see what color they get for real."

  She shook her head and smiled, as if unable to believe he could be so goofy. "Okay, if it means that much to you. But I won't be able to see you very well."

  "Unless you put on your glasses."

  "I draw the line at glasses. Be right back. These aren't disposable, so I have to take them out in the bathroom."

  After she left, he took one more drink of his champagne before setting the bottle and his glass next to hers. He noticed how uncluttered the surfaces were in this room. She didn't have any framed family pictures sitting around. Most women he knew loved doing that. No doubt about it, Kasey was a puzzle, a puzzle he wanted to solve.

  Stretching out on the bed, he was in a perfect position for her entrance. She walked in holding her hands out in front of her as if she couldn't see a thing.

  Then she groped for the edge of the bed. "Where are you, Sam? I can't find you."

  If he hadn't seen the corner of her mouth twitch, he would have believed her act. "I'm right here," he said, holding back a smile. "Keep looking."