off the tangle of silk and lace, taking the very action he had denied her minutes before. Even as she gasped, he thrust his fingers into the highball glass on the table. He grabbed a single cube of ice and thrust it against her clit. Before she could react, before she could pull away or cry out or push harder into his palm, he took the ice into his mouth. With lips and tongue and rapidly melting ice, he teased her until she came.
* * *
Sam lay on the couch, trying to remember how to breathe. Her throat was raw, as if she’d sung for hours, and she realized she’d been screaming DJ’s name.
Hardly an appropriate action for the Summer Queen.
Hell. Pretty much nothing since she’d left Polk Elementary had been appropriate action for the Summer Queen. She’d bought sexy lingerie for the first time in her life, paying for it in cash, wearing sunglasses so no one would recognize North Carolina’s beauty queen. She’d broken into a man’s house. She’d fortified herself with a glass of bourbon long before he’d ever come home, and she’d seduced him with the liquor when he finally made it back to his house.
And she’d loved every single minute of it.
Except for the fact that he was lying beside her on the edge of his own couch, still fully clothed in jeans and a long-sleeve T-shirt. It was definitely time to do something about that.
As she pushed herself into a sitting position, DJ tried to settle his arm around her waist, pinning her back to his side. “Rest,” he said. “It’s late. You must be exhausted.”
She grinned. “More tired than a guy who worked a full day before flying half-way across the country?” She reached down to trace the seams of his jeans, to measure his obvious arousal. “Look at that! Your body is still on Central Time.”
His shirt was already half untucked from his trousers. She wasted no time finishing the job, quickly stripping the garment over his shoulders.
She’d been thinking about his chest since she’d seen him in his kitchen, since she’d held herself back from ripping off the flimsy towel he’d worn that day. Now she laughed when she saw the sprinkle of golden hair across his pecs, when she matched reality to the memories that had teased her for two long weeks. Tracing the outlines of his muscles with her palms, she paused as the nipples tightened.
“Jesus, woman,” he said when she couldn’t resist the urge to catch one of those pearls in her teeth. He caught his breath, and the flexing of his abs distracted her. She knelt on the floor beside the couch, leaning into the soft leather.
She needed to feel the planes of his belly, to trace the cords of the sharp angled muscles at his hips. Her fingernails stood out against his tawny flesh. She saw that he was watching her and the fire in his gaze excited her, almost as much s his touch had against her over-heated skin. She flexed her fingers carefully, tapping each nail against his belly, tracing the golden line that thickened from his belly to the waistband of his jeans.
She worked the button slowly, grinning as he twitched beneath her. She took care with the zipper, slipping her hand inside his jeans to protect him from the metal teeth. His cock leaped against her palm as she eased him free of his boxers, and she closed her fingers tight around him.
He was longer than she’d imagined, and thicker around. His erection curved up toward his belly, and he groaned when she traced a vein down his length, pressing hard with the edge of her fingernail. “First,” she whispered, “I’ll hold you, stroking from the base of your cock to the tip.”
He shuddered as she matched action to words, and she knew he was remembering the phone call she’d just quoted. Five nights ago. He’d been in Detroit. He’d pitched seven and a third, giving up a single run. She’d told him she was impressed, that she wanted to reward him. She’d promised to bring him to the edge once for every inning he’d completed,
* * *
Sam lay on the couch, trying to remember how to breathe. Her throat was raw, as if she’d sung for hours, and she realized she’d been screaming DJ’s name.
Hardly an appropriate action for the Summer Queen.
Hell. Pretty much nothing since she’d left Polk Elementary had been appropriate action for the Summer Queen. She’d bought sexy lingerie for the first time in her life, paying for it in cash, wearing sunglasses so no one would recognize North Carolina’s beauty queen. She’d broken into a man’s house. She’d fortified herself with a glass of bourbon long before he’d ever come home, and she’d seduced him with the liquor when he finally made it back to his house.
And she’d loved every single minute of it.
Except for the fact that he was lying beside her on the edge of his own couch, still fully clothed in jeans and a long-sleeve T-shirt. It was definitely time to do something about that.
As she pushed herself into a sitting position, DJ tried to settle his arm around her waist, pinning her back to his side. “Rest,” he said. “It’s late. You must be exhausted.”
She grinned. “More tired than a guy who worked a full day before flying half-way across the country?” She reached down to trace the seams of his jeans, to measure his obvious arousal. “Look at that! Your body is still on Central Time.”
His shirt was already half untucked from his trousers. She wasted no time finishing the job, quickly stripping the garment over his shoulders.
She’d been thinking about his chest since she’d seen him in his kitchen, since she’d held herself back from ripping off the flimsy towel he’d worn that day. Now she laughed when she saw the sprinkle of golden hair across his pecs, when she matched reality to the memories that had teased her for two long weeks. Tracing the outlines of his muscles with her palms, she paused as the nipples tightened.
“Jesus, woman,” he said when she couldn’t resist the urge to catch one of those pearls in her teeth. He caught his breath, and the flexing of his abs distracted her. She knelt on the floor beside the couch, leaning into the soft leather.
She needed to feel the planes of his belly, to trace the cords of the sharp angled muscles at his hips. Her fingernails stood out against his tawny flesh. She saw that he was watching her and the fire in his gaze excited her, almost as much s his touch had against her over-heated skin. She flexed her fingers carefully, tapping each nail against his belly, tracing the golden line that thickened from his belly to the waistband of his jeans.
She worked the button slowly, grinning as he twitched beneath her. She took care with the zipper, slipping her hand inside his jeans to protect him from the metal teeth. His cock leaped against her palm as she eased him free of his boxers, and she closed her fingers tight around him.
He was longer than she’d imagined, and thicker around. His erection curved up toward his belly, and he groaned when she traced a vein down his length, pressing hard with the edge of her fingernail. “First,” she whispered, “I’ll hold you, stroking from the base of your cock to the tip.”
He shuddered as she matched action to words, and she knew he was remembering the phone call she’d just quoted. Five nights ago. He’d been in Detroit. He’d pitched seven and a third, giving up a single run. She’d told him she was impressed, that she wanted to reward him. She’d promised to bring him to the edge once for every inning he’d completed,
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