Megan Hart - Naughty Bits

Fuck it. She reached for her wine, took a healthy sip. Two could play his game. After all, she’d been doing it for more years and with more men than she could count. She had to remember that Gabe was just one more.

Deliberately she uncrossed her silk-clad legs, one slow inch at a time. Leaning back in her chair slightly, she let her knees fall open—nothing too graphic in dear Emilio’s little restaurant—just enough to reveal a smooth expanse of leg and a hint of the shadow near the apex of her thighs.

She used one slender finger to toy with her water glass—a careless slide around the rim, a little dip into the cool water, an absentminded skim across red lips. She studied her menu—though she knew it by heart and he knew she did.

But it gave her an excuse to ignore him as his eyes forged a blazing path up the long legs he loved to kiss. Legs made even longer by the Jimmy Choos with the five-inch heels she had just spent way too much of her last paycheck on. But the second she’d seen them it had been love at first sight.

Annalise couldn’t help grinning. What did it say about her that she had a more emotional and lasting relationship with her shoes than she did with any man? Even Gabe.

Smart, she decided as she glanced down at the sparkly crimson miracles, admiring the sheer beauty and craftsmanship that had gone into her most recent purchase. Investing in her shoes instead of a man definitely made her smarter than so many of the women she competed with on the dating scene.

She glanced up as her waiter approached. “Can I get you another chardonnay, Annalise?” Angelo asked, laying a familiar hand on her shoulder and leaning down to speak quietly in her ear.

Taking the last sip, she handed him her glass with a flourish. “You bet, sugar. But just one more—I’m driving.”

He glanced across the restaurant. “Gabe’s busy tonight, huh?” “Oh yeah. You know Gabe and his one-track mind.” Though she was doing her best to distract him. Leaning into Angelo, she gave a breathy laugh and laid a well-manicured hand on his forearm.

He nodded, his blue eyes darkening as she stroked him through the thin fabric of his suit. “If he’s busy for the rest of the night, I get off at ten-thirty.” His hand slid from her shoulder to the small of her back.

Annalise grinned up at him—she couldn’t help it, he was just so irrepressible. And one of her favorite fuck buddies for just that reason. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” she murmured, turning in to him so that her breasts brushed against his arm.

“Too long,” he answered, his voice deepening as her nipple hardened against his muscular bicep. Gabe and his hot stare had her in such a state of arousal that just that one quick brush against Angelo had her nipples standing at attention.

But she had bigger plans and, with a sigh of regret, she eased back from him. “I’ve got something going tonight, sugar. But if you’re free on Monday…”

His grin was frankly sensual. “I’ll call you.”

“You do that.” She gave him a slow smile and a wink before letting her hand drop, oh so leisurely, from his arm. “And I’ll take the pasta primavera whenever you get a chance.”

“You got it.” After an intimate shoulder squeeze, he headed toward the kitchen, a noticeable spring in his step.

Annalise grinned before she could help herself. Men were just too easy. Or at least, most men were. She spent a minute watching Angelo walk away, giving both Gabe and herself a chance to process the interaction.

Not that Gabe really needed much time to process, she mused. His fury was a living entity, crossing the space between them and skewering her without a word. She was playing with fire and she knew it—but the pleasurable pain that came with the burn made the game impossible to resist.

Besides, Gabe’s possessive nature was beginning to grate. She’d made it abundantly clear before they’d gotten together—and in the months since—that they weren’t exclusive. They weren’t serious. And they certainly weren’t emotionally involved. She didn’t do emotions and hadn’t for eight long years. And Gabe had agreed when she’d laid out the rules.

Agreed, hell, he’d been right there with her—looking for a good time with no strings attached. It’s what had made them so perfect for each other. He knew she had guys on the side—she let things slip every once in a while, sometimes refused to see him because she already had a date, occasionally answered calls from other men when she was out with him. Just little clues, enough to make sure he knew that she wasn’t harboring any happily-ever-after fantasies like so many of the other women in his life. And he definitely had other women—she wasn’t naive enough to think that he didn’t. Nor did it bother her—why should it when he always had more than enough left to give her what she wanted?

Refusing to be a coward—she’d done nothing wrong, after all—Annalise slowly lifted her head and let her blue eyes meet his nearly black ones across the dining room. Sparks leapt between them, as they had every day since they’d first laid eyes on each other three months before.

She’d been having dinner with some friends at a trendy La Jolla restaurant and he’d been involved in yet another business meeting. She’d brushed past his table on her way to the ladies’ room and had fallen instantly in lust. Not that any sane woman could blame her. The man was yummy—with a capital Y . Beautiful mocha skin covering incredible muscles. Dark, sexy eyes that promised more pleasure than it should be possible to feel. And those strong, work-roughened hands that had delivered on all the promises his eyes had made and many more to boot.

They’d spent the first two days of their acquaintance in his bed, and she’d come so many times in the first twenty-four hours that she’d lost count some time after number twelve. Much of their subsequent acquaintance had been spent in bed as well—at his place and hers.

Taking a long, cool drink of water, she smiled sassily at him. Tried to appear unaffected by the rage sizzling—hot and dangerous—in his eyes. It was setting fire to the very air around them until she felt like she could barely breathe, the oxygen trembling in her suddenly shaky lungs. Anger, possession, lust—and other emotions she couldn’t begin to name—shot across the room from him to her. Her nipples—already pressed against the thin silk of her dress—tightened to the point of pain. She knew he could see them, but she was too far gone to care. It took all her control not to spread her legs and beg for it.

But she refused to back down—even if the prize was the hot and satisfying sex he was the absolute best at providing. Besides, they’d get there eventually. The attraction between them wouldn’t allow anything less.

Leaning back in her chair, Annalise let her head drop back and ran her hands through her long black hair. The action thrust her full breasts forward, making her erect nipples even more obvious. She stretched, a long, feline movement that inched her dress farther up her thighs and revealed the lace tops of her thigh highs and the smooth, pale skin above them.

Angelo let out a long, low whistle as he dropped off her second glass of wine. “You’ll have him whimpering in a second, babe,” he whispered in her ear. But a searing look from Gabe had him hightailing it back into the kitchen before she could answer.

Need shivered through her—hot, aching, alive—and she pushed away from the table before she lost it completely. Grabbing her skinny purse with one hand, she ran the thumb from her other hand over an aroused nipple. Once, twice, in plain view of anyone who cared to look. She didn’t care who else saw as long as Gabe was watching.