could get caught. She didn’t care.
She could lose her license. She didn’t care.
She could lose the sale. Damned if she’d let that happen. She didn’t care if she had to screw the guy 24-7, he would buy a damn house from her. Even if it meant she had to wear him down to do it.
Taking off her panties before picking Connor up had been an impulse. She’d had no intention of a replay of the day before. Well, okay, maybe some small part of her had hoped for it. She was only human. Sex of any kind was a distant memory. Sex like she’d experienced with Connor fell into a whole other category from anything she’d done before. She’d be a fool not to want it again. And again. For as long as it lasted. Hell, he was going to be in town for only a few days, a week at the most. If she were a man having sex with a willing female client, people would look the other way. People had, when she and Rich were married.
The way she saw it, if she was an equal in business, why not also in pleasure?
True, Connor was not only a client, but he was also significantly younger. It’s not as though she thought it was love or even a lasting, potential long-term affair. She saw it for what it was: mutual gratification. A means to an end. Nothing more.
The last thought fled in the face of her climax rushing toward her, drowning her in such bliss, she wouldn’t have been surprised to find herself floating above the granite countertop had she not been anchored by Connor’s strong arms.
“Wait,” she said on a breath. “More.” She leaned back on her hands, not caring about the dusty surface, offering her now-bared breasts.
He sucked voraciously, continuing until she grew wet and slippery where they were still joined.
“More,” she whispered again. “There’s more house to, ah, see.”
He wrapped an arm around her waist and lifted her from the counter, still embedded deep within her aching body. “Which way?”
Any way you want, big guy, she thought, then realized he was asking for directions for their house tour. Gyrating against his sweat-slicked skin, she pointed in the general direction of the master suite.
One second, lovely fantasies were flitting through her mind of exactly how she was going to show him the features of the house. The next second, he stumbled. They landed with a lung-squeezing thud on the paper-covered hardwood floor of the great room.
“Crap! I’m such a clod!” Connor’s voice wheezed in her ear. His teeth nipped the tendon along her neck, making her wetter. “Are you okay?”
All she could do was nod, thrilled to realize not only was it true, but also miraculously they were still joined. She gave an experimental gyration of her hips.
Connor groaned and flexed, driving deeper.
“What happened?” Not that she really cared, not when he was plunging in and out of her with such slow, deliberate and delicious movements. She loved the firm heat alternately filling and pulling out of her, the feel of his skin rubbing against hers….
Her body relaxed for the first time in a long time while she allowed her hips to rise and fall in cadence with his, her breathing synchronized with each breath that ruffled the hair by her ear.
Adrift in sexual satiation, she was surprised when the first ripples of another climax began to tickle deep within.
Connor must have picked up on the clamping of her inner muscles, because he increased his tempo. What had been slow and easy, almost lazy movements picked up in speed to become hard, aggressive thrusts. Thrusts that drove her bare bottom along the dusty paper and pushed her hip bones against the hard flooring.
Breathing became heavier, then shallow pants, puffing in and out in time with each powerful surge of Connor’s hips as he pounded into her eager, receptive body.
They reached the climax together. Her breath caught. Connor let out a sound somewhere between a growl and a roar of completion. He collapsed. Their hearts slammed against each other through their skin and ribs.
Connor wanted to speak, to tell her how special it was, how no woman had moved him the way she moved him. She touched him.
He paused, his breath lodged. What they’d shared went beyond sex. Did she feel it, too?
“Move,” she said against his ear. “I can’t breathe.”
He adjusted his position but was determined to stay in their intimate alignment for as long as possible.
Beneath him, she shifted. “How did we end up down here?”
Embarrassment heated his ears. “I forgot to step out of my shorts. I tripped.”
He braced, waiting for her to laugh at him or, worse, call him Junior again. With his penis still buried deep within her honeyed warmth, he didn’t know if he could take it.
“Are you hurt?” She sounded genuinely concerned.
“No, just uncoordinated.”
Her chuckle did funny things to his still-interested member.
“Your coordination seemed just fine to me.” She smoothed her hand over his buttocks. “But maybe we should go get cleaned up and check everything out, just to make sure.” The tip of her tongue traced the shell of his ear, making his whole body tingle. She lowered her voice to a husky whisper. “The bathroom is that way, Junior. Let me kiss it and make it all better.”
Wiggling downward, she closed her teeth around one of his nipples.
Suddenly it didn’t matter if she called him Junior.
12
Connor relaxed against the edge of the whirlpool tub and watched Andrea kiss and lick his eager cock. Oh, yeah, no doubt about it, he’d never been shown a house in quite that way.
He liked it.
But a part of him struggled to push aside the niggling doubts about her motive. He knew he wasn’t the kind of guy women fell all over. Not even close. His was the kind of personality that had to grow on people. For that reason, he had difficulty finding and maintaining friendships. And personal relationships were even more difficult.
Was it unusual for a woman like Andrea Redd to fall into bed with a guy like him? Damn straight. But, as his grandmother used to say, every once in a while, even a blind squirrel finds an acorn. Regardless of the reason, at the risk of mixing metaphors, he wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth.
True, he’d never indulged in casual sex. But there was a first time for everything, and that didn’t mean he couldn’t enjoy it.
If he could just turn off his suspicious brain and stop remembering Bill’s comment about the possibility of Andrea being a wolf in sheep’s clothing. What did Bill know, anyway? It’s not like his friend had been any more successful in personal relationships than Connor.
“Junior?” Andrea’s husky voice brought him back to his current activity. She looked up at him with a look that told him she’d just spoken, while he had been arguing with his too-logical
