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"I didn't think even you would play so dirty. You a woman, who has money, needs money. Come on." he ground at her.
"Dirty? Is having sex with me dirty?" Her voice grew hard. She dared to come closer. "Why are you making this so difficult, Nick? You've had plenty of one night stands, according to your mother. Why should I be different? The only difference is, I want something out of it, too. But I've been honest about that from the start."
Now he was looking at her, and his expression changed to one of danger, and excitement. She had no idea that same question kept popping up in his mind. What was different?
She was right. There could be no lasting relationship with her, so why was she different? The question haunted him.
He nodded, "Yeah, one night stands." He glanced around him, then seeing his weapon; he dipped his hands into the grease can on the counter and came at her. He'd run her off once and for all. He'd scare her so bad she'd never show her face in here again.
With quiet deliberation, he came at her, once he backed her into the car, there was nowhere for her to go. Two fingers reached to dot her nose with the grease.
Her mouth opened with a gasp, but nothing escaped. Instead, she held her head higher, daring him.
"This isn't Park Avenue, Kelsey. The old Clinton DeWitt area is almost gone. Almost. Look around you, a long history is dying out there in the piles of rubble. The people are being forced out of their homes—in the name of progress. They're tearing it down, piece by piece. I'm sure you noticed—it's becoming an eye sore, a real embarrassment to the better standing communities, your communities."
His fingers barely grazed her nose, but the contact was lethal. He wanted her to smell it. Get dirty, baby, his mind screamed at her. Feel the dirt, and slime.
She stood rock still. She barely breathed.
"You better go home," he warned and turned away.
"Not until you reconsider or pay me back."
He turned back around, and moved towards her. His eyes lowered. Slowly, he reached out and dotted her neck with the grease. She still didn't move. God, but she was stubborn!
Dipping his hand in the grease once more, he deliberately smeared the grease across the hollow of her neck, and she took a deep breath. Her head fell back a little, and a tangle of lush curls danced over her shoulders. In a minute she was going to run out of the garage so fast he wouldn't know what hit her.
Her chest rose more slowly now, and he almost groaned with his need of her, still his intention to run her off had to work. It had to.
But still, she didn't move.
Then, with sharpened accuracy, his fingers dipped into the front of her dress, around the small curves and deep into the valley. This time he did touch, he couldn't help himself. His hands shook as they slowly drifted over her, the needs and the wills battling. His fingertips grazed the tip of her breast and it hardened into a nub. He swore beneath his breath and backed away, realizing there would be no way to stop what was about to happen.
She lifted her head, then threw it back, and bared herself to his will. No woman ever looked so provocative, Nick was sure of it. Here she stood, in his garage, asking to be taken. If he wanted to plaster grease all over her, she was willing, obviously.
His fingers shook again, betraying him.
"You've got grit, ba
be, and I've got needs," he began, his voice gravelly. He held her around the waist now, pulling her to him, her flesh soft and yielding beneath his fingertips. Slowly his clean hand reached up to stoke the smoothness of her cheek. She moved against his caress like a kitten lapping at his attention.
"Do you know how much I want you?" His voice was husky. And then like magic their lips met, slowly, almost tentatively. Soft and pliant in his arms, her lips parted in generous invitation. Nick couldn't wait to slip his tongue inside and taste her once more. Like chocolate, to be devoured slowly, not missing a morsel.
Without further provocation, his hips sank in against hers, leaving no doubt as to his arousal, moving in a slow rhythm to some primitive beat. Hips seduced hips.
Neither seemed able to get enough of the other, and when they came up for air, they were breathless, gasping, needing to grope each other for strength.
His eyes searched hers as his fingers undid the tiny buttons of her dress, one by one. Given the green light, Nick's breath became labored. She still didn't move, and the slant of her lips seduced him.
"God, lady, I'm not made of stone!" he cried only to see her head come down to meet his blazing gaze, her hair a glorious riot of colors against the dim light of the shop. Their eyes locked onto each other hungrily, and suddenly she threw back her head, and gathered him to her.
"Neither am I."
The bodice of her dress slid open like a gentle wave of a breeze and with a groan he glanced down at the silky teddy she was wearing beneath. It was too much, too unexpected, his whole body lit like a fuse.
One side of his brain shouted, "Goody-Two-Shoes don't wear sexy little teddies."
In one lithe movement he swept her up into his arms and carried her to the backseat of his Chevy. He laid her down on the seat gently, and stared into her misty eyes. Did he have the courage or the ability to give up what she offered him?
