Best Of Makeovers Bundle Part 74

Her nipples were hard against his palms. She groaned, arching her back so that her b.r.e.a.s.t.s thrust up to meet his touch. Her skin was impossibly silky and impossible not to taste.

He wanted to devour her. To absorb her completely.

As his mouth moved from one breast to the other he was only vaguely aware of her hands moving across his chest and then her fingers fumbling with his belt.

He felt her tensing as she struggled to undo the buckle. Felt her frustration mounting along with his own.

"Let me," he muttered.

"I've almost-"

Brushing her fingers away, he kissed her gently. "It's okay."

She bit down on her lip, her hands hot and eager at his waist while she waited for him to finish.

She seemed embarra.s.sed by her awkwardness with his belt. The blush that crept into her cheeks implied an innocence that he found even more alluring than all her s.e.xy lingerie.

That blush told him more clearly than she ever could that all her s.e.xy bravado was for him and him alone. It pleased him that she obviously didn't make a habit of seducing men in their offices.

Mentally, he cursed as he remembered where they were. In his office. Of all the unromantic places to have s.e.x with a woman for the first time...Of all the stupid, reckless ways he could screw up his career...

And yet, as he felt her hand enclose his erection, none of it mattered. Any thoughts of stopping her, of taking her home to his bed and making slow, lazy love to her where there was no risk of interruption or discovery, dissolved under the sweet, gentle pressure of her fingers.

Still he made himself offer. "Jane, wait..." he gasped as she sc.r.a.ped her fingernails down the length of his p.e.n.i.s. He wrapped his hand around her wrist, forcing her to stop long enough for him to form a coherent thought. "Maybe we should wait. Go to my house. It's not far."

"No," she murmured, pressing her mouth to his. Her voice sounded husky and breathless. "Here. Now." She kissed him again, trailing her mouth to his neck while shoving his pants down with her free hand. "You have no idea how often I've imagined this. You and I, right here on this desk."

She met his gaze boldly, her eyes all but black in the half-light. For an instant, she seemed to flicker between the woman she was now and the "stranger" he'd met on the rooftop. Sasha. Exotic, sensual, bold, and enticing.

"I want this," she murmured.

"But-"

She pressed a finger to his lips. "Don't worry. If you want to take me home and do this all over again at your place, I won't complain."

Who was he to argue with a proposition like that?

Then she pulled a condom from G.o.d only knew where and tore the packet open, silencing any protests he might have made.

But even before her nimble fingers putting the condom on his erection drove him to distraction, he knew his protests were just for show. Nothing other than a protest from her could have stopped him.

Until he stepped back to look at her and saw the tiny sc.r.a.p of fabric covering her mound. Bikini panties. Tied on either side with bows. His fingers trembled at he reached for the ribbon that dangled temptingly against her silky skin. With two quick tugs the bows dissolved and the last barrier between them fell to the floor.

She was so beautiful. So vulnerable. So completely his in this moment. The urge to drop to his knees and bow to her was almost overwhelming. And then she smiled at him. A tiny, almost shy smile that stripped away the last of his defenses.

He parted her thighs with a gentle reverence, aching as he stroked the delicate folds of her sensitive flesh. He found the nub of her desire and circled it with his thumb, watching her eyelids droop, her lips part in a gasp and her pa.s.sion wash over her.

Her head dropped back and a low groan echoed through the room. "Please," she gasped. It was all the encouragement he needed, and he thrust into her.

When he felt the heat of her closing around him, he squeezed his eyes closed and bit back a groan.

He tried to hold back, to make the moment last. She made no such attempts. She arched against him, thrusting her hips up to meet his every move. Her legs wrapped around his hips, her rhythm guiding him. As he felt his arousal tighten and strain he opened his eyes, needing to see her. With her arms propped behind her, her b.r.e.a.s.t.s thrust up, her head arched back, she watched him through half-closed eyes.

She was an ancient pagan G.o.ddess come to life. Fertility, s.e.xuality, and the most basic femininity.

He thrust into her one last time as his climax rocked through him. He felt her clench, her whole body convulsing around him as she called out his name.

Spent and barely able to stand, he nevertheless pulled her to him and cradled her against his chest. She felt right there, in his arms.

But as he held her and as the world slowly came back into focus, a vague sense of unease stirred within him.

Not because he'd done something incredibly stupid. Not because he'd been unbelievably reckless. At work, no less. Not because of any of the reasons he should have been feeling uneasy.

No, this was something deeper.

He'd just had s.e.x with the most exotic, enticing woman he'd ever been with. Unfortunately, he wasn't quite sure who she was. Sasha, or Jane.

CHAPTER ELEVEN.

AFTER six years in advertising, Jane knew as well as anyone that things seldom lived up to her expectations for them. The super-duper stain remover that left bleached splotches all over her clothes. The bargain vacation to Bermuda, during hurricane season, during a hurricane. The Healthy Meals in Thirty Minutes cookbook full of recipes that took over an hour to prepare, and which she'd gained ten pounds eating. Disappointments, one and all.

Reid Forester did not fall into that category.

In fact, sleeping with Reid Forester had exceeded her expectations so greatly, she was beginning to fear no other lover would measure up.

A risk she was willing to take, she'd decided at about three in the morning, when Reid had woken her and made slow, sleepy love to her before falling back asleep curled against her back.

When she woke a few hours later to find him still sleeping beside her, his hand curled around her breast, his breath warm on her neck, she knew she'd been right. The previous night was worth any cost.

But as she lay there, she couldn't help wondering what that price would be.

She shoved the thought aside to take in the details of his bedroom, as she hadn't bothered to the night before. Reid lived in one of the newer downtown condominiums. "Live downtown in luxury" was the building's tagline, if she wasn't mistaken. Despite the expensive price tag, Reid didn't appear to live luxuriously. His bedroom and living room-what she'd seen of it, anyway-were both furnished in reproduction mission-style furniture. Clean lines, no fuss, no-nonsense. Appealing in its simplicity and sheer masculinity.

The bedroom held just the bed, a single nightstand, a single wooden chair, and a chest of drawers, on top of which sat a collection of framed photos. Unable to resist the temptation to glimpse some tiny part of his life outside work, Jane slipped out from beneath his arm and padded across the plush carpet to the dresser.

All of the pictures were of Reid with his parents. Jane had met the Senior Mr. Forester several times during her first year on the job. Mrs. Forester she recognized from a company holiday party. The pictures were basic family stuff. A graduation photo of Reid looking young and exuberant, his arm slung around his mother's shoulder. The family in front of a Christmas tree.

What had he been like as a kid? Rebellious or an overachiever? She couldn't help wishing she'd known him then. h.e.l.l, she couldn't help wishing she knew him now.

"Keep dreaming," she told herself. Shaking her head, she made her way to the bathroom.

But in the bathroom, she stopped stone-still to stare in horror at the reflection in the mirror.

Last night, Reid Forester had gone to bed with Sasha, but this morning he was going to wake up with Jane.

The eye makeup Dorothea had carefully applied over twenty-four hours ago was now smeared in dark streaks under her eyes. Her skin appeared pale and splotchy. But her hair was the worst. Her hair-which last night had been curly, big, and beautiful-was now a flattened mat of tangles. Except for the occasional odd spiky chunk. And she didn't know how to fix any of this.

This was a code-red emergency.

She glanced down at her watch. Just after eight. Without knowing what time Reid normally woke on a Sat.u.r.day morning, she had to a.s.sume she didn't have much time.

She cracked open the bathroom door and peered into his bedroom. Lying on his back, one arm stretched over his head, the sheet rumpled at his hips, Reid looked like a s.e.x G.o.d. All lean muscle and scruffy day-old beard.

For an instant she was tempted. Screw her appearance. What did it matter? She could crawl back into bed with him and do something so positively wicked he'd never notice what she looked liked.

Except that he would notice what she looked like. He was a guy. And everybody knew men were visually stimulated.

If she crawled into his bed looking like this, chances were the only thing she'd stimulate was his fight-or-flight instinct.

Okay, if she didn't want him seeing her like this, option two was fixing it somehow. The bad news was, she had yet to successfully style her hair on her own.

Scanning the bedroom, she spotted her purse lying discarded on a chair near the bed. Barely daring to breathe, she tiptoed across the room, snagged her purse and crept back to the bathroom.

A few minutes later, she had Dorothea on the phone.

"What the h.e.l.l do I do with it?"

"With what, dear?" Dorothea asked calmly.

"My hair," she snapped into the phone. "I look like Alfalfa. Y-you've got to help me!" She heard an odd sound through the phone. "Are y-you laughing?"

"Of course not," Dorothea murmured soothingly. "Do you want me to come over and fix it?"

Come to Reid's? Yeah, that'd be subtle. He'd never doubt she was the confident, sophisticated woman she was pretending to be if she needed her friend to come do her hair for her.

"No," she told Dorothea. "I'm not at home."

"Really?" Dorothea's voice rose with glee. "Oh, good for you! Well done."

"No, n-not well done." Staring at herself in the mirror, she plucked at one of the errant strands. "N-not if he sees me looking like this."

This time, Dorothea definitely chuckled. "Okay, I'll try to talk you through it. Just remember, the way you style your hair is for you as much as it is for him."

"Wh-what's that supposed to mean?"

"The hairstyle gives you confidence, not beauty."

"Thanks," she snapped, too panicked to keep the sarcasm from her voice.

Dorothea ignored her sarcasm and quipped, "You're welcome. First off, have you tried brushing it?"

"No." Jane looked around the bathroom but didn't see a brush out on the counter. Feeling only a bit guilty for invading his privacy, she yanked open the drawer and rummaged for a brush.

When she found one, she ran it through her hair. "It's not helping," she complained.

"Try wetting it."

Jane set down the phone, splashed water on her hair, and then a.s.sessed her reflection. The rebellious strands were now back under control. Breathing out a sigh of relief, she picked the phone back up. "Okay, it's not sticking up anymore. What next?"

"Now just reapply some sculpting lotion and blow it dry like I've been showing you."

"Sculpting lotion? You didn't say I'd need any sculpting lotion."

"Darlin', I'm saying it now, aren't I?" The hint of East Texas tw.a.n.g was a sure sign she was getting annoyed.

"I'm sorry. It's just...I don't have any sculpting lotion."

"Hair spray?"

"No...wait, let me check." She pawed through her purse. "I've got a tube of lipstick, powder, Juicy Fruit gum, a condom, and my wallet."

"Not even MacGyver could fix your hair with that."

"Hold on, I'll keep looking."

She looked through the drawer, but found only a toothbrush and toothpaste. The cabinet by the sink yielded a bottle of cologne and a can of shaving cream, but no hair-care products.

"No. Nothing. Wh-what am I going to do?"

"Have you considered just letting him see you as you are now?"

Let him see the real Jane? The Jane he'd ignored for five years? Not on her life.

"Never mind," she told Dorothea. "I'll figure something out on my own. But thank you."

She hung up and tossed the phone back into her bag. What a disaster.

Biting down on her lip, she withdrew the bottle of cologne. She sprayed a squirt into the air and inhaled deeply. The familiar woodsy scent nearly made her knees give out.

Maybe Dorothea was right, but was that a chance she was willing to take?

After all, Reid had never noticed her before her transformation into Sasha.

She cracked the door open and peeked out. He was still asleep. If she had anything to with it, he'd never have to see her as she really was.

"Ah, Jane, where the h.e.l.l are you?"

Reid stared at the note she'd left for him for a long moment, then tossed it aside, flopping onto his back.

Funny, the image of her neat handwriting seemed burned in his mind. "Sorry to run, just remembered an appointment. Call when you get up."

And she'd left a phone number. If he had to guess, her cell phone, since it was different from the home number listed in her file at work.