The Perfect Man Read online

  Earlier she’d thought it was a fabulous idea. Now she realized that having sex involved giving up control, at least if you planned to do it right. For the past several months she’d been all about keeping things under control.

  But she trusted Adam. He’d guided her through the process of learning to be comfortable with his horse, Rocket Fuel. He’d taken her successfully through her first elevator ride in months, and he’d protected her from suffering in a crowded elevator, which could easily have sent her into a panic.

  She’d been fantasizing about him for three weeks, and their kiss during the second elevator ride had been hot enough to melt the buttons on the control panel. Inviting him to her place so they could explore this attraction on a deeper level was an obvious next move. Except she was having some of those pesky second thoughts.

  Sometime this afternoon, when the glow from the elevator kiss had worn off, she’d started thinking about the fact that he wasn’t just any cowboy. As they worked with the horses at his ranch, that was how she tended to view him, probably because she wasn’t intimidated by a guy who wore faded jeans and scuffed boots. But he was also a billionaire.

  This afternoon, Valerie had tried to convince herself it wasn’t important. Adam shouldn’t care what her apartment looked like or whether she’d cooked a gourmet meal. And he wouldn’t, if he was the kind of man she thought he was, the kind she could get serious about. But they’d always met on his turf.

  Correction, they’d always met in his barn. The barn was functional, not fancy. On her first visit to the Triple Bar, she’d paid attention to the obvious display of wealth in the pristine pastures and the elegant two-story house on the hill. After that, none of it had mattered because she’d focused on Adam and the horses.

  But ignoring his wealth, especially if she envisioned a possible future with him, would be naïve. Tonight she’d find out how well he managed in a setting that was several notches down from what he was used to. That would be a good thing to know, right? If he was ill at ease, or if he patronized her, even a little bit, a relationship between them wouldn’t work.

  Therefore she shouldn’t worry about how her place looked, but she wasn’t that strong. The first thing that stood out in her initial survey was a smear of yellow paint on her white living room wall. Her landlord had given her permission to repaint, and she’d tested that cheery color with one ten-inch swipe of the brush. She wanted to cover it up.

  Her bedroom closet yielded nothing but rolled-up rock band posters from her younger days. Then she spied her collection of scarves. Twenty minutes later, thanks to the scarves and some pushpins, she’d created a fabric wall decoration that looked . . . weird.

  But she was out of time to worry about that, so she left it. Next she made a sweep of the area, grabbing up newspapers and magazines, straightening throw pillows, and blowing the dust off her coffee table. It would have to do. She still had to get dinner started, set the table, and change clothes.

  Damn! She’d forgotten to buy wine. She had a half-bottle of Chardonnay in the refrigerator. Yeah, that would be classy. Here’s a glass of leftover wine. Hope you didn’t want seconds, because that’s all there is.

  Stopping in her tracks, she took several calming breaths. She could do this. Presenting a perfect scenario wasn’t in the cards. No matter what she did, the ambiance wouldn’t match what Adam had experienced while he was married to Elise.

  Ah, there was her other hidden fear. While at work this afternoon, she’d Googled a picture of his ex, looking poised, blond, stunning, and dripping in expensive jewels. He might not want to be married to her anymore, but she was still the type he was used to. Elise would never offer him leftover wine and spaghetti sauce from a jar.

  Screw it! Valerie rolled her eyes, impatient with herself. She’d taken this step, made this plan, and she might as well see it through. At six-twenty-seven, she turned on the burners under the pasta water and the pan for the spaghetti sauce. Then she ran into her bedroom and changed into a green and blue patterned dress that was on the slinky side and looked sort of hostesslike.

  Her doorbell rang before she’d decided on shoes. Shoving her feet into some sparkly flip-flops, she took a deep breath, left her bedroom, and went to answer the door.

  He stood in the hall holding a bottle of wine and a bouquet of flowers. His silver gaze was intent, his smile a little tense. She hoped to hell he wasn’t having second thoughts, too.

  Her heart thumped wildly. They were about to be completely alone for the first time since they’d met. So much hinged on tonight. So much.

  He hoisted his gifts. “I know I’m a walking cliché, but—”

  “No, it’s sweet. Come in.” She stepped back and he walked through her door, into her world. She was so nervous she could barely breathe. “Let me . . . Let me take those.”

  He handed her the bouquet and the wine. “You look beautiful, Valerie.”

  “It’s just—” She caught herself before she dismissed his compliment. He’d made it with a soft reverence that told her it was more than an offhand remark. Even though he’d moved in circles where women wore designer clothes, her quickly chosen outfit had dazzled him. That touched her. “Thank you.”

  He took off his hat. “Where should I put this?”

  “On the coffee table’s fine.”

  He set it there without spending any time looking at the table, or the sofa and chairs, or any part of her living room, including her scarf wall art. His hot gaze came back immediately to rest on her. “Could you put those down for a minute?”

  “Sure.” Her heart beat faster as she laid the bouquet on the coffee table next to his hat and set the wine bottle beside the bouquet.

  “I know you have dinner going. I can smell spaghetti sauce. But I need—”

  “Me, too.” She stepped into his arms with a moan of happiness. “Oh, me, too.”

  His hungry mouth on hers swept away her misgivings. He was desperate for her, and she was equally desperate for him. He crushed her to him, sending her racing pulse into overdrive. Yes, oh, yes.

  Lifting his mouth from hers, he gripped her tight, as if afraid that ending the kiss would make her vanish. “Can dinner wait?”

  She had no idea, but the ache building deep in her body answered for her. “Yes.”

  “Good, because I can’t.”

  “Come with me.” Wiggling out of his arms, she caught his hand and led him back to her bedroom. The sun hadn’t set, and light filtered through her gauzy curtains, bathing the room in a golden glow. There would be no hiding in the dark this first time.

  She didn’t care. His obvious need for her made her bold. And puts you in control, whispered a little voice. She ignored it. Turning back to him, she pulled her dress over her head and tossed it aside.

  He sucked in a breath. “Hold it. Don’t move.”

  She paused, but she couldn’t be completely still. She quivered in anticipation of what would come next, and what would happen after that, and how it would be when they finally . . .

  “I don’t want to forget how you look. You’re outlined in gold, Valerie. You shimmer.”

  “Because I’m shaking.”

  “So am I. I want you so much that it scares me.”

  “I’m a little scared, too.” She stepped toward him. “But the closer you are, the less I’m afraid.” She rested her palms on his chest and felt the rapid beat of his heart.

  His voice was husky as he wrapped his arms around her. “Then I’d better stay real close.”

  “Yes, please,” she murmured. Holding his gaze, she began unfastening the snaps down the front of his shirt. “Otherwise, how can I undress you?”

  Excitement flashed in his eyes. “You want to do that?”

  “Very much.” She finished with the snaps and pulled the shirttails out. “Remember on hot mornings when we’d both get sweaty?” She stroked upward from his
waistband, massaging his sculpted abs and muscled chest.

  He trembled beneath her fingertips. “I remember.” His gaze locked with hers. “I’d watch a trickle of sweat slide into your cleavage and wonder how I’d ever manage to keep my hands to myself.”

  “And I longed for you to take off your shirt so I could see these manly pecs.” She moved her hands in circles, loving the springy texture of his chest hair.

  “You could’ve asked. I would have been happy to oblige.”

  “You could have touched me. I would have been thrilled.”

  “Maybe, but I couldn’t make that move.”

  “You did today.” She traced the strong line of his collarbone.

  “I couldn’t think of any other way to keep you from being scared.”

  “It worked. And now see what you’ve done.” Reaching down, she unfastened his belt buckle. “I’m determined to have my way with you.”

  His throat moved in a slow swallow. “You know you’re driving me crazy with this slow undressing routine. How about if I just take off my own clothes? Then you can have your way with me that much faster.”

  “It’ll be more fun if I do it.” Grasping the waistband of his jeans, she gave him a nudge in the direction of her bed. “In fact, I like the idea of you flat on your back, helpless to stop me from seducing you.”

  “I’m already pretty damned helpless to stop you, no matter what position I’m in.”

  “Humor me, Adam. Lie on my bed and let me play seductress.”

  He smiled. “A guy would have to be stupid to pass up an invitation like that.”

  “I’ll take that as a yes.” She walked him backward. When he reached the edge of the mattress, he let her push him down. “Excellent.” She climbed onto the bed and leaned over him until her mouth was nearly touching his. “Prepare to be seduced.”

  “Valerie, sweetheart, I’m all yours.”

  * * *

  Adam had finally figured out what was going on. He might be a little afraid of his intense feelings for her, but she was really afraid. She hadn’t been intimate with a man since the fire, and obviously giving up control freaked her out.

  So he stretched out on the bed, his booted feet still on the floor, his shirt on but unfastened, and prepared for the sweet torture of having her work him over as his climax hovered ever nearer. After giving him a kiss involving lots of tongue, she moved on to his chest. He hadn’t thought his nipples were sensitive, but she proved him wrong about that.

  Breathing became a real challenge as she eased him out of his jeans and briefs. She only pushed them to his knees. He realized that was all the undressing she needed for her purposes. She’d effectively hobbled him by doing that, which might give her an even greater sense of being in control.

  When she wrapped her slender fingers around his cock, he didn’t much care whether he was hog-tied by his jeans and underwear. He just hoped to hell he wouldn’t come too fast. Between his lust for her and a long period of abstinence, he wasn’t ready to bet on his staying power.

  “You’re . . . magnificent.” Her comment was satisfyingly breathless.

  He could live with heartfelt comments like that. “Glad I pass muster.”

  “Oh, you do.” Still wearing her black bra and panties, she straddled his thighs while she caressed his pride and joy.

  “FYI, I have two condoms in my jeans pocket, right side.”

  She cupped his balls and massaged gently. “Is that a hint?”

  “Let’s call it a request.” He dragged in air. “Much more of touching me like that, and it’ll become a desperate plea. It’s been a long time, Val.”

  She smiled. “You called me Val. I like that.”

  “I’ll call you anything you want me to if you’ll grab one of those condoms.” He was trying to let her be in charge, and if she didn’t make a move soon . . . But he wouldn’t take over. That could be disastrous. She needed to direct the action.

  “Pretty soon.” With one last squeeze, she let go and reached behind her back. “I need to finish taking my clothes off.”

  He wanted to see her breasts. He did. He wanted to fondle them, too, and take them into his mouth. But sensory overload was a real danger in this situation.

  She slipped her bra free and flipped it backward onto the floor. “That’s better, don’t you think?”

  “Mm.” He wasn’t capable of coherent speech. The glory of her breasts beckoned to him. They hung there—full, round, and tipped with lush burgundy nipples. He reached for them.

  “Easy, cowboy.” She caught his wrists and leaned forward, pinning his arms to the bed as her breasts dangled inches from his mouth.

  “You’re diabolical.”

  “Just having fun.”

  “I dare you to give me a taste.” He easily could have wrenched free, but he’d agreed to play her game, so he let her tease him. If this made her feel safe, then he’d go along. He had to admit the novelty excited him, but sooner or later, he was going to explode, and he worried it would be sooner.

  “I never could resist a dare.” Dipping lower, she allowed him to capture one tight nipple in his mouth. As he sucked, he felt his orgasm shouldering its way closer. But she wasn’t immune to her needs, either. She moaned softly and rubbed the crotch of her panties against his thighs. The material was soaked.

  He increased the pressure as he drew her breast into his mouth. She began to pant. Good. This torture could work both ways. He wanted her to be as frantic as he was.

  Then maybe she’d abandon her need to control and surrender to the joy of the experience. He wanted that for her. He longed for her to trust him enough to let that happen.

  Raising up, she deprived him of the plump breast she’d offered, but when she scooted back to rummage in the pocket of his jeans, he nurtured the hope that she was ready for the main event. He lifted his head to check on her progress. His cock was stiff as a fence post. “Now? Please?”

  “Yes.” She maneuvered herself out of her panties and threw those to the floor, too. Then she ripped open the condom package. As she rolled the condom on, her fingers shook, but she got the job done.

  He gritted his teeth throughout the procedure. Coming in the midst of her condom application would not be cool. He was determined to last until she had an orgasm. She’d thrown down a gauntlet with her fooling around, and he was as competitive as the next guy.

  But as she rose over him, he realized that sex was not supposed to be a competition. Or a battle for control. She’d turned it into one, and somehow, some way, he wanted to change that.

  Then her warmth slowly enveloped him, and he lost whatever reasoning power he’d had left. As she sank downward, he lifted up, drawn in by the most perfect connection he’d ever had with a woman. So good. So incredibly good.

  He gazed at her, hoping to see that same sense of homecoming in her expression. Her eyes were closed. Damn it, was she going to hide from him now? “Valerie,” he murmured.

  She shook her head and didn’t open her eyes.

  “Don’t hide from me.”

  “I’m afraid to let go.”

  “Come here.” He gripped her shoulders and tried to pull her to him.

  “No.”

  But she was starting to contract around him, in spite of herself. He could feel it and knew that he wouldn’t be able to resist those rhythmic pulses. “You’re going to come,” he said. “Let it happen.”

  “No. No!” And yet she erupted, and when she did, he couldn’t hold back. With a groan, he surged upward. Their mutual climax should have been a moment of triumph, a moment of joy. Instead, as he shuddered in the aftermath, all he felt was despair. She didn’t trust him, after all.

  Then, like some cosmic joke, her smoke alarm went off. The minute it did, he knew what must have happened. She’d started supper, and it was burning on the stove.

 
With a shriek, she leaped from the bed and ran into the kitchen. He followed as soon as he rid himself of the condom and pulled up his briefs and jeans. The kitchen was filled with steam. She’d grabbed both pans, dumped them in the sink, and sprayed water on them.

  The smoke alarm continued to screech. Adam grabbed a towel from a rack on the wall and waved it at the alarm, which gradually sputtered to a stop. He tried to tell himself this wasn’t a disaster, but he knew it was.

  Valerie turned to him, her expression stricken. “I guess I’m not ready, Adam. I’m so sorry.”

  “It takes time.” His heart ached for her. “Don’t give up on the basis of—”

  “I know it’s cowardly of me, but . . . I want you to leave.”

  He took it like a shot to the gut. “Don’t do this. Let’s open the wine, order pizza. It’ll be fine.”

  “No, it won’t. Please go. I . . . need time. Lots more time.”

  He couldn’t very well force her to let him stay. Because he’d never been fully undressed, he could simply fasten his shirt, tuck it into his jeans, and buckle his belt. Walking into her living room, he picked up his hat.

  Then he glanced around. He might never be here again, and he wanted to remember it. Her sofa and chair were slip-covered in practical beige, but she’d strewn colorful throw pillows everywhere. The art on her walls was bright, too, including . . . what was that, anyway?

  He peered at the whirligig of scarves tacked to the wall. He’d bet she’d made that, and it was inventive and pretty and filled with life, just like she was. Or how she could be, if she’d break out of this prison she’d constructed around herself.

  He couldn’t just abandon her. “Valerie, can we talk about this? Do you realize you didn’t have a meltdown when the smoke alarm went off? You’re making progress!”

  “Not enough progress. I need to be by myself for a while. Good-bye, Adam.”

  He was dismissed. Will had warned him not to mess up. He’d tried his damnedest not to. Somehow, though, he had, and now she was kicking him out. With a heavy sigh, he left.