“I’m right behind you,” she told Sloan once the dogs were loaded. She’d driven her Saturn to Dog Days, and didn’t want to leave her car in the hotel parking lot.
After the drive across town, Sloan McCaffrey held the door for Eve to enter his home, a two-story Chesapeake brick house, newly constructed and recently purchased.
Set on an acre and surrounded by trees, the four-bedroom house opened into a wide foyer with a curved staircase on the west side. Skylights throughout welcomed sunshine and moonbeams. Rich rosewood floors lent a polished veneer.
Sloan watched Eve take it all in. She’d unleashed the dogs, and Juliet and Dozier now ran free. He opened the back door, and the twosome took off to explore the perimeters of the fence.
“I’d like to hang your painting here.” He pointed to a blank wall in the living room to the right of the fireplace. He considered it a place of honor next to his entertainment center.
“How long have you lived here?” She breathed in the new-house smell.
The scent of fresh paint and lemon-polished wood still lingered from the builders and cleanup crew. Even his furniture hinted of showroom decorators.
“The house came on the market three weeks ago,” he told her. Right after their New Year’s club breakup. “You’re my first houseguest.”
A houseguest whom he wanted to stay. He’d house hunted off and on for the past year. No house had felt right until this one. The moment the Realtor had walked him through the four-bedroom, he’d felt an immediate sense of homecoming.
He’d wanted Eve to see the house as he saw it: a place to raise kids and dogs, and grow old. Yet she withheld judgment as she moved into the kitchen.
The island caught her attention. She ran her hands over the brown marble top, which held a small sink and a butcher block center. Her eyes widened over an expensive set of kitchen knives. Those knives could chop, dice, and skin a deer.
“Stainless-steal appliances should last a long time,” he said, hoping for a response.
She merely nodded.
The kitchen opened to a sunken sunroom with a rear staircase. Starlight flickered through the French windows, as bright and twinkling as strands of tiny Christmas lights.
Overstuffed furniture in natural wood crowded together in intimate closeness—his furniture from his old apartment. A short bookshelf housed his favorite espionage and psychological thrillers.
“I like this room.” She smiled at him for the first time. “It’s cozy.”
Sloan wanted Eve cozy. He wanted her to feel warm and protected and into him.
“Your girlfriend closet?” Her gaze searched out several closed doors.
“Not at this house,” he said. “I tossed the teddies, but kept the sex toys.”
Her eyes rounded, and she blushed.
“Care to see the upstairs?” he asked.
The sound of dogs barking delayed her decision. These weren’t playful yips. They were protect-the-property barks.
“We should check on Juliet and Dozier,” she said.
They moved to the back door. There, Sloan flipped on floodlights that illuminated bright circles in the yard.
Eve squinted into the darkness, then touched Sloan’s arm. “There’s something moving outside the fence.”
Definitely moving. And Sloan took a deep breath.
The only downside to the house had arrived. He’d hoped the trespasser would have stayed at lake’s edge until morning, yet his invasion came tonight. Amidst Juliet’s woofs and Dozier’s howls rose a distinctive quack.
A quack so loud, Eve jerked back, her eyes wide. “A duck?”
“Quackers,” he said, giving the name of the neighborhood duck.
A mallard weighing in at twelve pounds, with a whole lot of attitude.
“Call the dogs and close the door.” Eve’s voice shook as she sought protection behind Sloan.
“The duck is
outside
the fence,” he quickly assured her. “Quackers lives on the lake.”
She’d gone sheet white.
“He’s a nice duck, Eve,” Sloan went on to say. “He’s come into the garage when I’ve left the door up. I toss him day-old bread on occasion.”
Totally annoyed by the dogs, the duck gave one final quack, then waddled back toward the lake.
Sloan whistled, and Juliet and Dozier charged the house. “I’ll get dog food, bones, beds, and toys tomorrow. Tonight you feast on leftover roast beef,” he told them.
He flipped off the lights, locked the back door, and went as far as hooking the chain. He didn’t want Eve to fear a duck invasion later that night.
They all moved to the kitchen. Retrieving the roast from the refrigerator, he sliced off several generous chunks and delivered them in two soup bowls, with a side of water.
“Do you cook?” Eve eyed the side of rare beef.
He ducked his head as he returned the roast to the refrigerator. “Not well.”
“A neighbor took pity on you?”
She read the situation well. He could lie, tell her he’d bought the meat at the deli. Yet lies always came around and bit him in the ass. He’d lose her trust. Truth mattered most to Eve.
“Kallie Ward, two doors east, cooked dinner for me last night. She delivered the meal in a tight little red sundress. When I didn’t invite her in, she left. Kallie’s going through a divorce. Her kids are grown. Her husband of twenty-five years moved out. She’s still cooking for two. I got her husband’s portion.”
Eve leaned against the back of the sunroom couch. “That’s a lot of information.”
“I want everything out in the open. No secrets.”
She nodded.
And Dozier burped, a doggy belch from eating too fast.
Juliet finished shortly thereafter.
Eve glanced at her watch. “It’s late.” She straightened and took her first step to leave.
Juliet sensed her departure and whined.
“The dogs would probably sleep better with you in the house,” suggested Sloan. “Your presence would give them a sense of security.”
“Security, huh? Me, who dives behind you, afraid of a duck?”
“Stay, and I’ll protect you.”
Still she hesitated. “Where would I sleep?”
“Your choice of the four bedrooms,” he offered. “Although only one has a bed.”
To sleep or not to sleep with Sloan McCaffrey; that was the question of the night. Eve craved him with an intensity that made her body ache.
She’d tried to act blasé as Sloan had shown off his home—an incredible house that made her feel safe, despite the sudden appearance of the duck.
She wanted to walk up those stairs with all the confidence of a woman in charge of her sexuality, yet shyness overtook her.
“Eve?” Sloan looked as uncertain as she felt.
“I’m willing, but my feet won’t move.”
He came to her then, tall and broad shouldered, his gray gaze hot as gunmetal, his body already showing his need for her.
He caught her beneath the knees and lifted her high against his chest. The dogs barked, believing this was a new game, and they wanted to play too.
Sloan carried her up the curved staircase. He stopped several times and kissed her, deep and French and with the promise of spectacular sex.
Dozier darted ahead of them into the master bedroom.
Juliet made a daintier entrance.
“The dogs need pillows,” Eve breathed against his chest once Sloan set her on her feet.
Sloan whipped two seat cushions from a short contemporary sofa that sat beneath the wide arc of the bedroom windows. He dropped them on the floor and patted each. “Good night, sleep tight,” he told the dogs.
Juliet settled sweetly onto one cushion.
Dozier eyed the bed.
“No way, pal,” Sloan told him.
With a snort, the bulldog tucked himself beside the Jack Russell.
Eve also looked at the bed. A bronze-and-brown comforter covered the king-size mattress. Dark chocolate satin pillowcases rested against the headboard.
Sloan dimmed the lights, then moved in behind her. He curved his arms about her waist and pulled her back against him. His broad body framed her own. The prominent ridge of his sex pressed the small of her back. His strength dominated. His desire titillated
He held her for a long, long time.
The conjunction of man and shadowed bed was as potent as foreplay. Eve drew his hands to the buttons on her linen jacket, ready for him to undress her. linen jacket, ready for him to undress He took his time with her.
The slide of the pearl buttons through the fabric slits was smooth and sensuous.
The roll of the linen off her shoulders was seductive.
A cream camisole lay between his palm and her skin. When he rested his hand on her breast, her nipple rose to meet him—a nipple that puckered with the faint brush of his thumb.
Pleasure shot low, dampening her panties. A flick of his wrist, and her lace cami vanished. She stood naked to the waist.
Eve didn’t care how many women had come before her; she lived only in the moment, reveling in the heat and rapid pulse of Sloan McCaffrey.
The man made her moan, squirm, want him.
He concentrated fully on her breasts, dedicating himself to making her shudder. Taut and tingly, she rose on tiptoe, her back arched, as he drew her out of herself and into him.
She needed his kiss.
Turning in his arms, she sought his mouth. He kissed her with penetrating thoroughness.
Her hands worked off his shirt.
He was all tight skin and straining muscle.
She kissed his collarbone, his male nipples, and straight down his happy trail. She unbuttoned his slacks and took down his zipper. She tucked her fingers into his waist band, gave one tug, and his slacks and boxer briefs soon circled his calves.
He heel-toed his boots, then sidestepped. Fully naked, he epitomized pure male beauty. She could paint this man, Eve realized. He was symmetrically perfect.
She bent to kiss his belly, which was flat and cut.
Then she dropped to one knee to nip his hip bone.
He was fully erect, long and substantial.
She licked his length, flicked the tip with her tongue.
Sloan’s knees gave out. Curving his hands over her shoulders, he drew her to her feet. “Too much too soon, sweetheart. You’re killing me.”
He then went on to kill her.
Off came her skirt; her panties followed. Her nerves skittered as he stripped her to the skin. His touch was deliberate, sensitive, knowing. Her body pressed against his, soft with desire. He reflected her need with white-hot arousal, shared silky, dark whispers, anticipation and wild heartbeats. Eve blushed at her own boldness—and Sloan encouraged her fantasies. He soon pulled her down on his bed. She spread herself over him.
“You want to ride like the rodeo.” There was a smile in his kiss as he stroked his big hands down her spine. He cupped her bottom, ran his thumbs along the crease. Then, squeezing her hips, he lifted her until she straddled his thighs. “Forward or reverse, cowgirl?” he asked.
Eve’s heart skipped, and her breath caught. Her hands flattened on his chest. Heat steamed between their thighs. “Forward . . . first.”
His chest rose and fell. “Reverse makes great seconds.”
She bit her bottom lip. “You don’t mind my experimenting?” She felt safe and daring with this man—uninhibited and unafraid.
“Have your way with me.”
Yet before he let her ride, he withdrew a condom from the top drawer of his bedside stand. He ripped the foil with his teeth, and Eve rolled it on.
He then relinquished control.
She rose onto her knees, positioning herself to take him. Inch by deliberate inch, she settled back until he was fully embedded. He filled her, thick and throbbing. A rock of his hips told her to ride.
She dominated the movement: slow, then fast, then slow again, until his breathing jerked and his muscles went taut.
The slight rolling of her hips made him sweat. His jaw clenched and his eyes glazed over. He squeezed her thighs, a plea for action.
Her own thighs tightened as she rose until she was barely holding him inside her. She squeezed her inner muscles, then lowered herself with a satisfying little twist.
She swore Sloan’s eyes rolled back in his head.
“I’m dying here,” he gasped from deep in his throat.
She let herself go. Her increased rhythm buried him completely.
Sloan whispered, coaxed, helped direct her hips with his hands. His moan of heightened pleasure shot through her, driving her higher.
They were both suddenly there.
Both stiffening.
Both shattering.
Both mindless, boneless, replete.
She collapsed on his chest.
Their breathing was heavy in the stillness.
Her cheek rested over his heart. She could hear its loud beating. She’d worked Sloan McCaffrey’s body to satisfy her own. The man looked very much taken.
He lazily stroked her back. “Lady, you can rodeo.”
Eve felt the heat of a full-body blush.
“Don’t be embarrassed.” He squeezed her arm. “Experiment all you want in my bed. Here’s where you can let go and get your buzz on.”
Buzz on
came with the reverse cowgirl.
Her back was to him when she heard a drawer open. The flick of the switch got her full attention. The sound alone took her to the edge. The touch of the vibrator sent her over.
Eve played with Sloan and his sex toys long into the night. They laughed, moaned, did each other dirty.
She wakened to Dozier’s whimper. The dogs needed to go out. Eve quickly slipped on her panties, then snagged Sloan’s cobalt blue shirt from the floor. The knit held his scent, pine and male, and stretched almost to her knees.
As quietly as possible, Juliet, Dozier, and Eve sneaked out of the bedroom. The click of the dogs’ nails sounded homey on the hardwood floors. When Juliet hesitated at the top of the stairs, Eve carried her down.
She unlocked the back door and let the dogs out. The chain-link fence ran wide and long, bordering the lake. She stood in the doorway and scouted for Quackers.
The duck was nowhere to be seen.
Her childhood fear was silly. Yet she had no desire to face off with the mallard.
While the dogs sniffed and wandered, Eve moved to the kitchen. In little time she’d made coffee. A cinnamon bun caught her eye in the bread box.