Private Parts. Tori Carrington
Mrs. Foss would very likely be the one to answer. And he wasn’t sure he wanted to face her this late on a Friday night.
The town as a whole had been surprised at best, mystified at worst when the Fosses had first decided to turn their six-bedroom house into a bed-and-breakfast about a decade ago. They had eight kids, all of who had moved out of town as soon as they came of age because their parents had been so overprotective they were barely allowed out of the yard until they were eighteen.
Then Mr. Foss had died and Mrs. Foss continued on, twice as miserable as before. While Troy ran into her only on the rare occasion, none of his encounters with her had been particularly pleasant. Partly because she blamed his family for the loss of her children to bigger cities after the shut-down of the lumber mill. Mostly because she was a bitch.
The thought of seeing her now seriously threatened whatever latent desires had brought him there in the first place.
He began to turn away when the door opened. He turned back, about to offer his apologies to the ornery old woman … and was instead presented with exactly the person who had haunted his dreams for the past three days.
Kendall.
“Hi,” she said simply.
“Hi.” He took her in from head to foot, thinking that she should wear that short, silky pink robe all the time. He’d have never been able to refuse her for as long as he had if he’d only seen this.
The deep V revealed that she wore no bra or camisole, her breasts soft, pale mounds. At least what he could see. What he couldn’t see, he could easily guess at as her nipples poked against the fabric, drawing attention to the darker, puckered skin there. The hem of the robe hit her at just below what was decent, if decent could be used to describe any part of the sexy-as-all-get-out woman in front of him.
She shifted her weight from one bare foot to the other, causing her robe to open. He caught a glimpse of the lacy crotch of her white panties and nearly groaned aloud.
“Is there a particular reason you stopped by on this chilly night?” she asked with a saucy smile.
Oh, there was a really good reason. And it was looking straight at him …
KENDALL HAD TROY EXACTLY where she wanted him: in her bedroom.
Well, all right. Maybe not exactly where she wanted him. Because that would put him right between her thighs.
All good things come to those who wait …
She licked her lips, tasting vanilla ice cream there. “Would you like some pie?” she asked.
He still stood just inside the room in his overcoat, his gaze darting toward the closed door.
“Don’t worry. Mrs. Foss sleeps like the dead.”
His grimace was altogether too handsome. “Somehow I doubt that.”
“You’re right. She’s probably listening to everything we say through a glass pressed to the wall.” She’d put her plate down on a small table near the window that was flanked by two wicker chairs. She sat in one and adjusted her robe a beat slower than she should have. So shoot her. She was enjoying his reaction to her wanton actions a little too much. Her panties were already dripping and the silk rasped against her übersensitive nipples, eliciting a wicked shiver.
“Please. I’ll share.”
He looked back at the closed door again, then finally sat down. He seemed to realize he was still wearing his coat and got back up to take it off, carefully folding it over the back of the chair before sitting down again.
The sign of a true bachelor.
She took a slow, sinful bite of the pie, humming as she did so. “As sour as Mrs. Foss is, she makes a sweet apple pie.”
“That’s because she doesn’t make it. Verna at the diner does.”
Kendall raised her brows. “Thanks for the insider info.” She smiled. “Does everyone know everyone else’s business here in Earnest?”
“Pretty much.”
She took another bite and pointed the fork in his direction. “So word will be all over about your visit then?”
“It will probably be on the front page of the Earnest Gazette. Along with a picture.”
“Above or below the fold?”
“The Gazette doesn’t have a fold. It’s more of a newsletter.”
She laughed as she held out a forkful of pie for him to take. He shook his head.
“No, thank you. I’ve eaten.”
“What’s that got to do with anything?”
“Good point.” He took the fork and put the bite in his mouth.
Kendall crossed her legs again, well aware that when she moved, the skimpy bottom of her robe bowed open. At least until she closed the flaps again. She watched him have difficulty swallowing.
“So, that means you might as well do what you came here to do then …” she led.
He squinted at her in the dim light cast by the table lamp. “I’m not sure I’m following you.”
Oh, he was going to follow her all right. Right into that bed.
“Well, if you leave now, the headline will read, ‘Town Good Boy Stops in for a Quickie.’”
He began coughing. She handed him her glass of water.
She crossed her arms over her chest. “So we might as well get our front page’s worth, don’t you think?”
TROY HAD NEVER MET A woman as forward … or as hot … as Kendall Banks. Which was just as well, because he was having a hell of a time trying to carry on a casual conversation with her looking like sin incarnate, an all too inviting bed two steps away.
He stood up. She stood up. He raised his hand to the side of her face, marveling at the mercurial green of her eyes. One moment, lime, the next, almost brown. His gaze fastened on her full lips. He rubbed his thumb against the plump pillow that was her bottom one and then touched the pad to his own tongue, tasting vanilla ice cream.
“Now, this is more like—”
He kissed her mid-sentence, and their teeth knocked together. He winced and watched as she did the same. She leaned in, nearly kneeing him in the groin. He tilted his head the same way she did, then moved the other way at the same time. He tried kissing her again … and got her nose when she looked down at where he was slightly standing on one of her bare toes.
Finally, he lifted his hands up in surrender. If he’d needed any more proof that this wasn’t a good idea, he’d just gotten it.
“Oh, don’t even consider it, buster,” she whispered.
She reached for his tie, loosened it and then took it off together. Then she worked on the first few buttons of his shirt before shoving him toward the bed. Luckily he landed on it, sitting on the edge, instead of on the floor.
Kendall slid her fingers under his chin, drawing his gaze to her eyes rather than to her breasts where they swayed against her robe, promising to come out to play.
“I think we can do better than that,” she murmured. “In fact, I know we can …”
She bent down, pressing her mouth against his.
Sweet Jesus, but she tasted good. Like spiced apples and one hundred percent female.
“Relax,” she whispered, pushing his shirt down over his arms without undoing the rest of the buttons, essentially trapping him in his own clothes. “You do know the meaning of the word, don’t you, Mr. Metaxas?”
Oh, he knew the meaning, all right. He was just having a hard time applying it to the immediate circumstances. His erection pressed almost painfully against the front