Calculated Exposure Page 9

Unzipping the bag, he froze and did the math. And it was easy math. Thirty-five wasn’t all that far away. How the hell did that happen?

  * * * *

  Erica hurried home from a mind-numbingly dull event and scoured her freezer only to find nothing particularly interesting. After staring at the options for two minutes and damn near defrosting the compartment, she shrugged and wriggled a frozen veggie pizza from under a couple of Lean Cuisines. She tarted it up with chorizo she found in her refrigerator meat drawer and slid the concoction into the preheated oven as she heeled off her shoes and socks.

  Curt knocked on the door right as she stepped out of the shower.

  She opened the door a crack and said, “I’m still dressing.”

  He smirked. “You want me to wait here and pretend I haven’t seen you naked, or…”

  “Damn it.” He had a point. She opened the door and waved him in. After securing the deadbolt, she scurried to her bedroom. “Don’t let that pizza burn,” she called back.

  “Don’t bother dressing on my account,” Curt said. “You naked is why I’m here, remember?”

  She laughed. Well, she had made that promise, but dinner was a higher priority. Her stomach felt inside out from hunger. When she’d been called out to take photos of an arson scene, she hadn’t expected to be there all day waiting on the fire marshal’s statement.

  She dressed quickly and casually and dashed to the kitchen. “I hope you don’t mind.” She slipped a pizza peel into the oven and removed the slightly-charred pie. “I need to upload some images from today. I’ll be really quick.”

  “Go for it. Maybe I’ll go and see if that damned game show is on again. Still don’t get it. I hate that feeling.”

  “You sure? That’s alright? You can watch in here if you want. Tuck into the pizza.”

  “You got it. We got all weekend to play.”

  Erica felt her cheeks flush as he walked away. “All weekend?”

  “Mm-hmm. Brought a change of clothes and my laptop. If you’re going to help me relax, I plan on making the most of it.”

  “Suddenly, helping you relax is sounding like a lot of work for me.”

  “Scared?”

  “Of you? No way. Last night was just an appetizer.”

  Slow down, girl. You’re gonna have to walk that talk.

  He winked at her over his pizza slice as she connected her work camera to her computer. It took all the self-restraint she had not to pounce on him to lick that bit of sauce from the corner of his mouth. Somehow, she managed to activate her tunnel vision and file her shots.

  Her stomach gurgled a reminder she’d been ignoring it, right as she quit her editing software. Before she could shut her system down, a message from Tate pinged in.

  She rolled her eyes and maximized the e-mail program.

  Hey, I’ve got you slated to cover the NASCAR event tomorrow. I know how much you hate shooting sports, but the stringer who lives out there caught Strep. Check-in’s at two. Let me know if there are any problems.

  She gave the monitor the finger and clicked the reply button.

  I’m not on the schedule for tomorrow. I’ve never worked Sundays. I’ve got plans. Sorry.

  She clicked send and stood, not really giving two shits what Tate’s response would be. He wouldn’t fire her. She realized that now.

  “Curt, do you like plantains?”

  He looked over at her and crossed his legs in the other direction from where they had been. “Never had ’em. Grew up on the typical Irish staples. When left to my own devices, I eat cereal.”

  Oh, I’m going to have so much fun with him.

  She’d never cooked for Tate. Never wanted to. The way she saw it, he was getting enough of her even without her slaving over a hot stove.

  The computer she forgot to turn off pinged yet again. Her stomach growled louder. “Fuck.”

  What sort of plans?

  Her inclination was not to answer. It was none of Tate’s goddamned business what she was doing on her days off, not that she had many of those with the staffing cutbacks at the paper. Most of the photographers the paper used were stringers or freelancers working specific events. She was one of only two full-time photographers for the mid-sized paper and knew when she left, she probably wouldn’t be replaced. Tate would have to take up the slack.

  Actually, Tate doing some work sounded like a great idea. He’d leave her in peace for the weekend.

  Again, I’m sorry. I have an out-of-town guest. I hope you can find a substitute.

  Leaving the machine on, she managed to get three bites of pizza into her gut and had started tracking toward a bored-looking Curt when that goddamned computer dinged again.

  “Curt, I’m sorry. Just–”

  Curt put up his hands. “All weekend, darlin’.”

  She snapped her fingers and pointed at him. “Right.”

  Tate’s response:

  Maria-Elena can tag along. That’s not a problem.

  Erica growled and just barely suppressed the temptation to thrash her face against her wireless keyboard. She clicked reply one more time to input a terse, and hopefully final, response.

  Not Maria-Elena. Not someone who can tag along. Perhaps give Dot Sheehan a buzz. She lives near the track and is open to contract work.

  She clicked send and turned off the damned computer. Not that her non-response would actually deter him. If he got desperate, he’d drive up to see what she was up to.

  Controlling jerk.

  Curt made some space for her on the sofa inside the V of his legs, so she sank against him and fidgeted with the crust of her pizza.

  The two of them together felt right. Good. It pained her that he was so aloof, but then she remembered she was pretending to be the same way. She needed to come clean, and soon, or he was going to wander away with her hating herself for not laying it all on the line when she had the chance.

  She rolled over and tapped his chest. “Hey.”

  “Hmm?”

  “Do you plan on staying in the US?”

  “Why, you want to have me deported?” He grinned as he twirled a swath of her hair around his index finger.

  “Ha ha. I’m just curious what your plans are. I mean, most students don’t come to the US thinking they’ll stay here, do they? Ireland’s not exactly the kind of place a person would run away from.”

  Curt sucked in a deep breath and let it out slowly, rolling his eyes up to the ceiling. “I can’t speak for all of them, but Grant wanted to stay. He’s trying to come back right now. My leanings are toward staying. I think Seth would have to be dragged back to Russia in handcuffs, so I hope he finds a job here soon since he’s no longer categorized as a student. His visa situation is tenuous right now.”

  “I bet. I managed to sneak in under the wet foot, dry foot rule. It’s a wonder we got our entire family here.” Minus one.

  He met her gaze again and added a second hand to his study of her hair. “And is America what you thought it’d be, darlin’?”

  “I don’t know what I thought America would be. I was a little kid when we came. I didn’t know shit. Didn’t understand what was happening.”

  “Would you go back?”

  “Hell, no. There’s enough Cuba in Raleigh and Miami to keep me sated.” Enough about me. He’s going to get bored. “Hey, you want to go for a walk?”

  “How far a walk?”

  “Oh, about twenty feet.” She tipped her head toward the bedroom door.

  “Sure. That’s the kind of exercise I can get behind.”

  They both started to sit up, and she had managed to put her feet on the floor right as her cell phone rang. She froze, staring at the wall behind the sofa while it rang. Psychic she was not, but her gut was pretty good. Her gut said, Tate.

  “Are you going to answer that?” Curt wrapped his arms around her waist and nuzzled his face into her hair. He loved her hair. She loved that he loved something about her. She wasn’t hard to thrill, and letting him play with her hair, and oth
er things, would be a lot more fun than listening to Tate’s blathering.

  “No, I’m not.” She led him into the bedroom by the hand, savoring the way he squeezed her fingers with such tenderness as their feet swished across the carpet. She knew it was just anticipation on his part. Had they been out in public, he probably wouldn’t be so hands-on. He didn’t seem like the kind of guy who did PDA.

  Once in the bedroom, she swiveled the blinds closed and drew the curtains together so the room was nearly pitch black.

  “Hey, I kind of want to see you.” He pressed lips against her neck and licked a scorching hot trail down to her collarbone.

  She giggled as his mouth grazed over a ticklish spot at the bend of her neck. “I don’t know, I think it’s sexier in the dark. You can’t anticipate everything.” And you can’t see the faces I’m making. She started pushing his buttons through their holes as his hands trailed down the sides of her arms.

  She helped him remove his shirt and trailed her fingers to his jeans’ button. Her hands were in his shorts before he could reciprocate.

  “Eager, darlin’?” he said through clenched teeth when she tightened her fingers around his shaft.

  “Mm-hmm.” She squeezed all the way to the end, pausing there to feel his slick head and cover his cock with his own lubricant. It was so smooth, so satiny, and…

  No, she wouldn’t.

  She cleared her throat. “By the way, I don’t do fellatio.”

  “Hmm?” He wrapped his fist around her loose hair to pull her head back, and immediately went to work teasing her flesh with his teeth. He bit, licked, kissed down her neck to the tender place at the juncture of her shoulder, and she damned near lost control.

  With his strong grip around her waist and his clutch of her hair, she felt utterly defenseless but in the best way possible. She trusted him.

  Strange.

  He paused his nips to whisper, “That’s a shame. If you suck cock with the same skill in which you kiss, I’m missing out.”

  She felt lightheaded at his brazen words, and sucked in some air. Briefly, she considered making an exception, but the sinking feeling she experienced quickly altered that. “I…I think I know something you’d like more.”

  “Oh yeah?” Now his lips skimmed over her ear, arousing the tiny hairs on her cartilage and sending ripples of pleasure into her core. “What?”

  She had to swallow twice before her throat was able to form the words. “Me on your face.”

  She braced herself for rejection of the idea, or even ambivalence, but instead of teasing her, mocking her, he merely stepped out of his pants, grasped the bottom of her tank, and pulled it up.

  “But I’m not going to let you lick me,” she amended as he dropped her shirt on the floor. With hands that trembled a little, she unbuttoned her shorts while his fingers tickled her back in search of her bra clasp.

  “Why the hell not? I like the way you taste.”

  “I could tell last night, but maybe I think you haven’t earned dessert yet tonight.”

  “I see.” He pulled one tingling nipple between his teeth and let it snap back into place as he dipped his hands into the back of her panties. “I think it’d be dessert for both of us.”

  Oh, God, yes it would.

  She tried to steady her breathing as his fingers parted her cheeks and nudged her panties down. Didn’t work. She was getting damn close to needing a paper bag. “Maybe I…want to be nice and wet for you so when you pull out…you can slip it real easy elsewhere.”

  “Quit teasing me.” He picked her up bodily and carried her the short distance to the bed.

  “I’m not teasing. I just know what I want.”

  “And what do you want?”

  “Bring me to the brink, rubio.” She wrapped her legs around his waist and drew him close, his warm skin against hers. “Make me scream because I’m so full and need release.”

  “Condom.”

  “Nightstand.”

  He leaned across the bed and yanked the drawer open, rummaging until he pulled out the box. He plucked out one rubber, opened it, and rolled it onto himself in less time than it would take for someone to crack the seal on a soda. The man had skills.

  She wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing at the moment, but really didn’t care.

  He hovered over her again, wrapped her legs around his waist, and eased his cock into her without further prelude.

  She exhaled slow, feeling like her body had gone boneless at the sensation of him stretching her, pleasuring her with his size. Skill hadn’t even come into play yet.

  When he began rocking on his knees, thrusting in and out, she thought perhaps she’d left her body for a moment, because all she knew was ecstasy. She’d never known she had such cooperative nerve endings.

  And then his torso pressed against hers, crushing her breasts under his chest as he nipped at her lips with his teeth. She felt as if he was everywhere at once. It was almost too much, but not quite. “Am I wet enough for you?” she managed when he’d given her a short respite, only to suck on her neck.

  “Feels good.”

  “I want it to feel great.”

  “Nothing for that, darlin’. Not going to risk knocking you up.”

  She swam up out of the trance-like state she’d been in and forced her eyes open. “What?” she asked, confused. They got their wires crossed somewhere.

  He didn’t answer, but licked around her lips and darted his tongue into her mouth.

  Her confusion dissipated as he increased his pace and deepened his thrusts.

  “Oh my God.”

  “Hang in there, darlin’, we’ll finish together.”

  “I…” She was going to say can’t, but it was obvious. She started bucking beneath him, her sex clamping his rock-hard shaft like a vice as she clawed his back.

  He was there, too. His fingers digging into the fleshy part of her ass and the clench of his teeth gave him away.

  When he pulled out with an excruciatingly slow retraction, her sex was still spasming, wanting to be filled.

  As if he was psychically tuned in to her continued arousal, he eased backward and lowered his face to where her thighs joined. First a flick of his tongue, followed by the grazing of his teeth on her clit. Now, she bunched the bedspread with her fists and curled her toes, panting, fearing any further stimulation would bring pain rather than pleasure.

  But then he let up and she could breathe.

  His tongue made zig-zags down her slit to the tight skin beyond. He didn’t stop there, and even added a hand to the mix. While the press of his thumb on her clit distracted her, his tongue probed the rim of her anus.

  Oh, that’s not bad.

  Then he forced the tip of his tongue into it.

  She clenched.

  Okay. Bad idea. He’ll figure out I haven’t done this. Is there an ass cherry?

  He gave the valley between her cheeks another long lick, then turned her over.

  Before she could express any objection to the matter, he raised her rear end up to him and parted her cheeks with his hands.

  Suddenly, she felt a lot less brave. It was time to dig into that well of brazenness she’d tapped into in Ireland. She hoped it hadn’t run dry.

  “How are you doing?” He dipped his fingers into her still-wet cunt and slicked the lubrication between her cheeks, massaging the tighter entrance with the pad of his thumb, then slowly pressing the digit past the first resistant barrier.

  “Wonderful,” she said into the mattress.

  “Good.” He withdrew his finger and gave her ass a playful smack.

  Her eyes widened at the sting. It’d surprised her, but it hadn’t exactly been unwelcome. It was even…titillating? Yes, that. She felt her cream pooling between her legs and the only remedy for it was his cock inside her yet again. But, he couldn’t be in both places at once. How to pick?

  “Curt?”

  “Yes, darlin’?” His fingers mashed her clit, massaging it in concent
ric circles while he probed her anus deeper and deeper with the other hand.

  “Put your cock in me. Please.”

  “We’ll get there, if you want. Remember, I’m a technical kind of guy. I like to understand all the…” His finger pressed against something inside that made her whimper. “Bits and pieces.” Then he slipped his fingers out of her again.

  When Erica looked past her shoulder at him, she found him sitting back on his heels, pinching off the spent condom. He eased himself off the bed and tossed the rubber into the trashcan. When he returned, he plucked another condom off the comforter. He studied it quietly in the dark. “How many of these do you reckon we’ll go through tonight?”

  “How many are left?”

  “Three.”

  “Then four.”

  He laughed that deep throaty laugh that was way too damned sexy coming from a man who crunched numbers all day and ripped the foil packet open. He had just started easing it onto himself when a thud sounded from the living room.

  Fucking shit.

  She lay very still, hoping she hadn’t heard what she thought she had.

  Curt put one knee on the bed and placed his palms against her offered ass.

  The noise came again, this time as sharp knocks in rapid succession and not just one heavy pound.

  That killed the mood. She felt like she’d been on the freeway going ninety only to have some jackass pull the parking brake. Whoever it was at the door, she planned to maim them.

  “Do you really need to get that?” He seemed to already know the answer as he’d already started the task of de-sheathing himself.

  “Need to? No, but now that whoever it is has popped my bubble of bliss, I might as well chew them out. Excuse me.” She flicked on the bedside lamp and murmured an apology before pulling on her robe.

  The idiot, whoever it was, knocked again.

  “I’m coming!” she shouted, not giving a shit if she sounded shrill. The time for sexy had passed. “I’m sorry. Be right back.”

  She stomped down the hall, past the kitchen and living room, and put her eye to the peephole.