Dawn Atkins - Simply Sex

“Me, too. Comedy Central is my favorite.”

“Oh, I live on that station.” The cable network featured stand-up comics, quirky sketch shows and humorous talk shows.

Cole grinned, delighted, she could tell. “I hustle all week so I can watch Friday Night Stand-Up.”

“Bingo,” she said and laughed. He joined her, his eyes twinkling, then settling into something much hotter.

A silence fell. It was clear that neither wanted to leave, but the tables were all empty, the waiters were putting up chairs and somewhere someone vacuumed. Under the table, she felt as if her body were on fire.

“Why can’t sex be simple?” she said softly, wanting very much to take this heat between them somewhere they could quench it. “Why can’t it be a lovely physical encounter between two people who want each other?”

“And afterward they go about their lives,” Cole said, his voice husky with emotion, his gaze level.

“Exactly.”

“We should leave.” Cole nodded at the waiters standing at the bar, shooting them go-home-now looks.

“We could go to my place and…talk.”

“Yeah,” Cole said slowly. “Let’s talk.”

They would do more than that, she knew, by the gleam in Cole’s eye, her pulsing sex and the tension vibrating between them like a note held too long.

This was exactly what she needed—simple sex. A glorious hookup. For one night. Safe and easy. Except for one thing.

“What about Deborah?” she blurted. Would Cole’s perfect match mind sharing him with her?

“Deborah’s the future. This is now. Tonight.”

“I’m so glad you feel that way,” she said, relieved. And a little worried about herself.

It wasn’t like her to jump into something like this. She had a plan, every hour laid out, timed to the minute. Tonight she needed sleep. She had major work tomorrow.

But she didn’t care. Just like accidentally parking in the fast-food lane, she’d turn this mistake into a mint-chocolate shake. And not ruin a suit doing it.

WHAT THE HELL are you doing? Cole asked himself, accelerating to keep up with Kylie’s pale blue Accord. She was zipping down the nearly empty streets as though they were in a car chase. He’d like to think she was hell-bent on getting her hands on him, but he was pretty sure her usual pace was breakneck.

They’d only met a few hours ago, but he felt as though he’d known her for years. Toward the end, they were finishing each other’s sentences. They were surprisingly alike. They were even both big tippers. She’d scrutinized the gratuity he’d insisted on paying and it turned out they’d both done stints waiting tables and knew how hard the work was.

Now desire pounded through him like a heartbeat. He glanced up at the moon shining through his sunroof—big and round and so bright it looked fake. He wanted to howl at it like some randy beast. He squeezed the cool leather of his steering wheel and kept driving.

Somewhere in North Scottsdale, he caught the pale flash and bright blink that signaled Kylie had turned into a residential area. He followed, winding through a complex of red tile-roofed townhomes. He pulled into the empty space next to where Kylie parked and noticed the dashboard clock said midnight. It was very late and he had lots of brain work on the Littlefield file in the morning. This was all pretty hasty. Not like him at all. Maybe he should suggest an end to the night, he thought, climbing out of his car. They both needed sleep. She’d understand. Probably be glad.

But she’d leaped out of her car and was heading his way, gaze level, stride determined, and he knew he wasn’t leaving until he’d held this amazing woman in his arms, kissed those lips, touched her everywhere he wanted to touch her.

She was here now. Tonight. How could he pass her up?

She came to him and, without a word, cupped his face in trembling palms, drew his mouth down and brushed her lips against his so softly it was barely a kiss, full of questions like her eyes in the moonlight when she pulled back and looked at him. Do you want this? Should we do this?

She obviously wasn’t as casual about sex as she’d sounded in the restaurant. He was aware of her ribs stretching and subsiding under his palms with each uncertain breath. His cock, hard against her body, knew exactly what it wanted.

“What are your doubts?” he asked her.

“It’s so late.”

“I won’t stay long. You’ll still get sleep, I promise.”

She smiled. “What if it gets complicated?”

“We won’t let it. It will be—what did you call it?—a lovely physical encounter between two people who want each other.”

“And only one night?”

“Not even that. Couple of hours.”

“No expectations? No hurt feelings?”

“None and none,” he said, running his tongue along the edge of her ear, relishing her shiver and quiet murmur. She trembled in his arms.

“What about birth control?” She was struggling to speak. “I’m on the pill…are there health issues?”

“None for me.”

“Me, either. Good.”

She had the shiniest eyes he’d ever seen. He couldn’t even figure the exact color for the gleam. Green, but some brown, too. Smart eyes. Sparkling and intense. And she wanted the same thing he did—sex. He felt a rush of freedom. He was a lucky man.

He slid his mouth over hers and she opened to him, surrendering, melting against him with a sigh. He kissed her deep, wanting in. And she met him with the same urgency.

Desire tightened in him. He shoved a hand between their bodies to flick open her jacket and get at her breast, running his thumb over its knotted tip under the blouse and her bra, moving fast, frantic.

She squirmed against him, then gripped him through his pants. He moaned into her mouth. They staggered a little. They were groping each other, moaning, gasping, knees buckling, acting as if they hadn’t had sex in a long time.

Which they hadn’t.

She broke off the kiss. “If we don’t get inside, my neighbors will call the police…or start videotaping.” She grabbed his hand and he let her tug him forward to her back door and into her kitchen. “Do you want coffee or a drink or some water?” she gasped, pulling at him.

“No. You?”

“God, no.” She hurried them onward. He got an impression of granite counters, glass-fronted cabinets and smelled cinnamon, coffee and some summer fruit, musky and sweet.

Kylie led Cole down the hall toward her bedroom, feeling carnal and wild, just rushing to bed like this. Maybe they should talk a bit. She turned to speak, but Cole kissed her desperately, as if they’d traveled too far without contact, and her doubts slid from her mind like butter from a hot knife.

Cole took charge, nursed the lust, feeding it like a fire so that it swelled and roared between them. Hot chills raced up and down her body and her knees gave way. She needed something to lie on. The bed. If she could…just… make it…there.

She broke off the kiss and tugged him the few remaining feet to her bedroom and then to the bed.

Cole shoved her jacket off her shoulders and to the floor, then grabbed for her blouse buttons. Normally, she’d want to show off the lovely peach-lace bra and panties ensemble she wore, but not now. A primitive message pounded through her… Clothes off…now. Lie on bed… now. Through him, too, it seemed by the way his fingers shook and his breath came harsh and quick. He unclipped her bra, ripped it off and flung it to the floor, then cupped both breasts in his hot hands. The man wanted her so badly he’d practically torn her clothes to get at her. That made her feel powerful.

And weak with lust. She had to get horizontal. She leaned back to fall onto the bed. Cole caught her, though, and reached below her to toss open the bedspread, making pillows fly. One knocked the silk arrangement from the bureau, another made the lamp wobble. “Sorry,” he said.