Janelle Denison - Wilde Thing

"I'll take care of it," he assured her.

As relieved as she was, she couldn't help but ask, "Why didn't you tell me that the calls could be recorded?"

"Because I wanted you to be calm and get some real practice the first night on the job, without censoring yourself. By the way, you were great tonight. Amazing, actually."

The switch in topic reminded her that she was still ticked off at him for being so selfish with her pleasure, the cad. "I'm glad you had a good time."

"You didn't?" He sounded genuinely surprised.

Yes, she'd enjoyed their tantalizing conversation, but her body was still buzzing with unquenched need. "Let me put it this way: you came; I didn't."

His low, sexy chuckle only added to her agitation. "Poor baby."

Unable to take any more of his teasing, she decided it was time to end the call. "Good night, Steve," she said sweetly, and not waiting for a reply, she disconnected the line and started her engine.

She drove home with all the windows rolled down, letting the evening breeze tangle through her unclasped hair and help to ease the lust thrumming through her body. Unfortunately, the cool wind on her skin and caressing her bare thighs reminded her too much of her escapade with Steve and the fan he'd turned into an erotic form of foreplay.

She shifted restlessly in her seat, which only served to add an enticing friction to the liquid heat settling between her thighs. Her fingers flexed around the steering wheel-it was apparent she'd have to give herself the orgasms her body craved if she had any intention of getting a good night's sleep tonight.

She turned down her street, and her pulse leaped when she spotted a familiar black Harley-Davidson parked outside her apartment complex. Then she shook her head. No, it couldn't be Steve-she hadn't yet returned the filled-out application with her home address on it.

Yet as she walked toward the apartment she shared with her cousin, she wasn't all that stunned to find a tall, dark, and gorgeous man dressed in black jeans and a leather jacket, leaning impudently by her door, waiting for her. Despite the surge of temptation and, yes, damn him, excitement flowing through her, she approached him slowly, tentatively, refusing to rush eagerly into his arms.

His pose was all arrogant, self-assured male, like he had every right to be there. His thick, midnight hair was mussed from his ride over, dark stubble lined his jaw, and his blue eyes were bright and seductive against all that sinful black he wore. His thumbs were hooked into the belt loops on his jeans, and a booted foot was propped against the wall behind him, giving the impression that he didn't have a care in the world.

She knew better than to underestimate that casual stance of his, or his reasons for being there. He was, after all, a dauntless, overly confident bad boy who took what he wanted, when he wanted it.

Just as he had tonight, on the phone.

As she neared, she could sense the latent power he exuded, could feel the raw eroticism of his hot stare as he watched her close the distance between them. Could feel her own body soften and respond instinctively to that intense awareness sizzling between them. By the time she stood next to him, she was breathless and battling the urge to rip off his clothes and have her way with him.

Summoning a bit a defiance to keep from giving in to that favorite fantasy of hers, she lifted her chin and pinned him with a direct look. "How did you know where I live?"

"Where there's a will, there's most definitely a way." Taunting amusement flickered across his features.

And he was a PI, trained in tracking people and digging up secrets. "What are you doing here?"

A lazy, seductive grin curved his lips. "Sweetheart, I don't think this is a conversation you want to have out here, where your neighbors might overhear."

She ignored the warning note threading his voice, unwilling to make any of this easy on him. "And you're not getting inside until you tell me why you're here."

"I think we both know the answer to that question," he said, and leaned in so close, his warm breath fanned her neck and his lips brushed the lobe of her ear. His damp tongue added to the shivery sensations, and he added in a rough, wicked whisper, "But just in case you have any doubts in that pretty head of yours, I'm here to fuck you."

Steve heard Liz suck in a quick breath, and watched her eyes widen at his blatant and earthy declaration of what he wanted to do to her. He wouldn't apologize for his outrageous behavior, nor did he intend to back down from the statement he'd just issued.

He deliberately meant to startle Liz, shock her even, and he expected her reaction to go one of two ways. If he'd offended her, she'd probably slap him or turn him down flat, and he'd know he'd stepped beyond her comfort zone. If she was daring enough to join him in a more erotic, forbidden world of pleasure that included unrefined, primitive sex, then she'd welcome him inside her place and they'd indulge those carnal fantasies, and more, together.

Now that the time had come to take that next step, he needed to know she was game for everything uninhibited and unadulterated. He wanted to be assured that she was a match for his sexual appetite and a willing partner to his aggressive, more dominant nature when it came to sex. He liked his encounters hot and vigorous, and what he had in mind beyond that closed door was not gentle, polite, or altogether civilized by most women's standards.

Her answer would be the determinating factor of whether he kept their affair tame and within the confines of conventional sex or she granted him permission to allow his inner wild man loose with her.

Few women had.

He lifted a dark brow. "Well?" he prompted.

Her expression gave none of what she was thinking or feeling away. "Let me put it this way. If you weren't here to fuck me, I'd be pretty pissed after the way you left me hanging tonight."

Oh, yeah, the woman definitely had spunk, and that turned him on even more. "Touché."

He plucked her apartment key from her lifeless fingers, and when she didn't object to his take-charge attitude, he opened her door and swept a courteous hand inside the darkened entry-way. "After you."

Once they were both in her apartment and Steve had the door shut and locked behind them, that was where his gentlemanly manners ended. Taking advantage of the first hard surface they came into contact with, he maneuvered her up against the living room wall and pinned her in place with his big body, wanting complete control of tonight's seduction- and Liz's surrender. He dropped her keys to the floor, along with her purse and that small fan she'd told him about over the phone, which intrigued him with all the possibilities inherent in that little toy.

With one arm braced on the wall next to her head, and a dim light from the kitchen illuminating them, he held her gaze and slowly, gradually freed the buttons on her blouse with his other hand. "Did you think I was going to leave you on edge all night long?"

Mild accusation glimmered in her gaze. "That's what you wanted me to think, wasn't it?"

He dipped his head and nuzzled her neck, mostly to hide a smile at her accurate guess, though he wasn't about to admit that she was right. No, it was more fun sparring with her, and he liked her fearless, rebellious attitude, which would make her acquiescence all the sweeter.

"Only a cad would be so insensitive," he replied playfully. Done opening her blouse, he pushed a sleeve and bra strap over one shoulder, tenderly kissed the flesh he bared, and felt her shiver in response.

Her hands fluttered between them, finding her way into his leather jacket and tugging the hem of his shirt from his jeans. "Funny, that's exactly what I thought of you after we hung up."