Making Him Want It. Renee Luke
but if she were ever lucky enough to meet up with this fine piece of chocolate again, she’d do more than share her name.
Shy Kat regained control while her newer persona scratched her way into a hole. She couldn’t give him her real name, despite the arrival of compunction, the nudging of shame. Kat Mason writes relationship columns for the Sunday paper, she doesn’t do strangers, she doesn’t write porn.
Keep telling yourself that, sistah. Pausing mid stride, she looked back at the gorgeous man, the inspiration for the sexing–him–good article she was about to write.
She kept walking. With his scent on her skin, the taste of him on her lips, Kat swiped a tear from her cheek. She couldn’t believe she’d done this.
“How will I find you again?” he shouted, his voice echoing off the brick walls. There was a note of sincerity in his tone that panged in her heart.
She didn’t stop, but turned the corner and walked out of sight, pretending she hadn’t heard him. A few more lingered moments and he’d have seen her knees wobble and more liquid fall from her eyes. Part of her wanted nothing more than to see this stranger again, to know him.
But getting to know him would only reveal her as the shy, quiet, sit–in–her–sweats all day writer. Not the brazen woman she’d been tonight. He’d be disappointed. Better to leave him with the memory of the hot chick than to learn the fantasy wasn’t real.
Chapter 4
Kat stared at the email to her agent—her finger hovering over the send button—narrowing her eyes at the five attached files. Grit blurred her vision; her butt was numb from sitting so long in her office chair. The five completed articles were the result of her thirty–six hour, uninterrupted writing spree. Well, broken only by her T&P, her code for brewing hot tea and trips to the potty.
Five? Wow, she couldn’t believe she’d done it. Drawing bits and pieces from her night out on the prowl at The Night Kitty, she’d managed separate and unique works, each purely inspired by Mr. Gorgeous and her own shocking behavior.
It wasn’t the speed of her typing that had stunned her the most—but the incident. How irresponsible. How careless. How dangerous. How stupid.
And the best damn orgasm she’d ever had—no batteries required.
Taking a deep breath, Kat was hit by the lingering scent of sex, of sweat, of him, that not even her scented soap had been able to vanquish.
Him? She knew nothing about him. The hunk could be married, a father of two. Guilt sliced through her. This wasn’t what she was about, not her style, not her moral code, and yet she’d been so caught up in lust, she’d not used her head. She shouldn’t have done this. Shouldn’t have cheaply offered her body to an unknown man just for pleasure, just to assure a writing deadline to a career she wasn’t all that proud of.
No matter how fine. No matter how horny.
Biting back a moan of dismay, Kat closed her tired eyes, the sting of shame burning at the back of her throat. The sassy–meow Kat knew deep down, if she crossed paths with that chocolate–skinned lover again, she’d melt right into his arms. A shiver shimmied down her spine.
Focusing her eyes on the pale computer screen, she read over her brief note to her agent, assuring all the needed info was included, then refusing to acknowledge her attachments as anything but pure fiction, she jammed her finger into the send key. She watched as the confirmation page slid slowly into place.
Spinning away from the desk, she slumped in her chair, feeling a weight settle onto her shoulders. No turning back now. Through the curtains covering her bedroom windows, sunshine filtered across the room. Dust fairies danced and floated in the air. From some place outside, Kat heard distant children playing, the joyful yells, followed by mumbled laughter.
Sunday, midday, and she was tired. Barely able to push herself from her seat, Kat moved across her room, headed for the shower. Intent on scrubbing clean the scent of her escapade, she stripped off her clothing, tossing it toward the hamper. She was no Jordan, most landed on the floor.
The cold spray shocked her body, sending a frisson across her skin, but the water soon warmed, soothing away the strain. Steam arose, swirling about her feet. As the heated water slid over her naked flesh, memories flooded her senses. Remembering dark eyes flared with passion, exploring fingertips, the hard length of cock, the soul–deep ache of wanting him. Of desiring a stranger, a man in all likelihood, she’d never see again.
Warm droplets of water landed on her cheeks, more salty than the shower. Kat swiped them away. What good did tears do her now, she wondered as sobs broke free. Overtired, focus lingered on his full lips and the brief moment he’d been about to kiss her. “You ho, why’d you stop him?” she berated herself, wondering what his kiss would have been like. How his breath would have tasted.
But kisses were dangerous. They opened up hearts, revealed old hurts, threatened her self–imposed exile of existence. A back alley fuck was not a relationship, and solid relationships didn’t begin with her back against the bricks.
Leaning back into plush leather, Jamal tapped his fingertips against the curve of his steering wheel in beat with the bounce pumping from his stereo. The sun crept up over the horizon too damned early as far as he was concerned, and Monday morning traffic had been worse than usual, thanks to a four car pile–up on the freeway.
Putting his SUV into park, he closed eyes against the brightness of the mid–August morning, too exhausted to be at work. Should’ve called in sick, but it was too late for shoulda, woulda, coulda’s he thought, opening his eyes to glance up at his office building.
Lack of sleep made him irritable. It’s not that he hadn’t had the chance to rest. Hell, he’d spent all day Saturday lounging around his apartment, but his mind kept returning to the little honey he’d met Friday night and the way they’d screwed in the back alley.
He’d thought his bow–wow days were behind him, but just like a dog with a bone, he’d buried it home without pausing to think of the repercussions.
And who the hell was she?
Even in the wild days of fraternities and college parties, he’d never met another woman quite like her, with looks enough to stir any warm–blooded creature, and an oh–so–hot body. Even now, an erection wouldn’t be out of the question with a little more thought of how she’d knelt before him. How her tongue had worked his flesh.
Refusing to get caught back into the web of desire that had tormented him all weekend, he slid from his Escalade, pulling out his briefcase with him. Taking a deep breath, he headed inside. At least he had something to look forward to, his hopeful submission from Kat Mason. It should have arrived by now. Perhaps the return of his fantasy lover would ease his mind from memories of the real one–night–back–alley–fling thing.
And just like that he was hard.
Kent was the first to greet him. The ass came charging over as soon as Jamal had slipped in the building.
“Hey man, what happened to you?” he asked, taking a swig of OJ from a small plastic bottle.
“You take a cab home?” Jamal asked, ignoring Kent’s question. He kept walking to his office, having no wish to disclose the true facts of his Night Kitty trip.
“Yeah. Well, you should have let me know you were ready.” Kent didn’t slow even though Jamal was trying to give him the brush–off.
“You looked busy.”
A wide grin spread across Kent’s face. “Oh, yeah, and did I ever get busy. That pigeon let me go home with her. Now, don’t be such a prude, JJ, sexing don’t hurt no one.”
“As long as she knows nothing’s coming out of it, Kent. That’s your problem.”
“What you mean by that?” Kent asked. A brow arched and a forced innocent smirk marred his face.
“I