Striptease Read online

  She pulled herself open so she could see everything Jacob had seen on her Webcam performance, as well as when he’d buried his face between her thighs. She pressed her fingertips to the sides of her clit and shuddered as sensations rocked her to her toes.

  And then Jacob’s hands were there with hers and she let him take over. Nothing she’d watched herself do in any way compared to having him please her. But suddenly it wasn’t enough. Not nearly enough.

  And so she stepped away, turned around and wrapped her arms around his waist, sliding her palms down to his backside, where she squeezed.

  “What the hell are you doing?” He ground out the words even while pressing his erection into the softness of her belly.

  “Taking my adventure into my own hands,” she replied, and settled her lips at the base of his throat.

  She kissed him there, nipped at his skin, sucked and soothed the teeth marks. His hands, which had settled on her hipbones, slid up her rib cage; his thumbs rubbed the plump sides of her breasts and she shuddered.

  “Jacob?” she murmured into the muscle and skin of his shoulder.

  “Melanie?” he answered, his voice hoarse and gruff.

  “Is there a bed in here?” she asked. “Or am I going to have to take you down to the floor?”

  He chuckled then, and she felt the rumble everywhere he touched her. “Yeah. There’s a bed.”

  “Then unless you consider a cold tiled floor beneath your back a turn-on, maybe we could move there?”

  “A bed? Isn’t that rather pedestrian?”

  “This is my adventure, buster.” She slapped him on the ass. “Now, move it. And lose that thing on your head. Making love to a droid is taking this beyond kinky and into obscene.”

  He looked at her for a long moment, his eyes doing that dark flashing thing that made it so very hard for her to breathe. She didn’t know if he was pondering the kinky comment or the obscene.

  So it surprised her when the corner of his mouth finally crooked into a grin and he said, “Making love, huh?”

  But she didn’t have time to form a response because he activated the mike, commanded, “Zoom right one,” and then jerked off the headset and nearly dragged her to the bed.

  What was she supposed to say? She’d stopped fooling herself the minute he’d walked up naked behind her. This wasn’t solely about sex any longer. Not for her. Emotionally, she hadn’t yet uttered the L word. But physically this was no longer about getting off. It was all about giving back. And, yes, about giving up control.

  He tumbled her onto sheets of soft cotton, sheets that were as warm on her back as the heat of his body was, covering her front. She didn’t even wait for more foreplay, but reached down between his legs and took his cock in her hand.

  She guided him to her sex and surged upward, taking him inside with a cry of delight. Her hands on his back felt his shudder as he struggled to hold himself still.

  She didn’t want still; she didn’t want to wait. She wanted to drive him over the edge before he had the chance to calm down. With her fingertips gouging the muscles of his backside, she pulled him close, refusing to release him when he hissed out a plea for her to stop.

  “No,” she said. “This is my adventure.” And what she wanted more than anything right now was to kiss him.

  And so she did. She moved her heels to his buttocks, moved her hands to his head. His eyes widened marginally before she pulled him down for her kiss.

  He tasted like sorrow and secrets. Like a man who rarely kissed, who wasn’t sure he was wanted. His hesitance broke the very heart she’d sworn not to involve. But his hesitance was short-lived and the sadness banished the moment his tongue entered her mouth.

  They battled there with lips and tongues, as if each sought in the other a missing part of self. Melanie had never known this sort of hunger because this need was all about Jacob.

  He ate at her mouth, his hands cupping her head as he held her still and feasted. And then the kiss was over, ended when he pulled away and stared down at her from the sharp edge of control.

  “God, Melanie.” He tightened every muscle he had. “No more. No more.”

  She turned her head to the side and watched him come. She watched on the video cluster as he slammed into her body with an urgency she’d never sensed before. She watched his face, watched him screw his eyes tightly, watched the tendons and veins in his neck pop to sharp relief.

  She watched his buttocks flex, his triceps stretch. And she watched his penis slide in and slide out.

  That was when she knew she was done. She pushed up onto her elbows, braced her feet flat on the mattress and thrust her pelvis upward rhythmically, repeatedly, meeting his every stroke, which matched the music’s hard beat.

  She closed her eyes when she came. She tossed her head back and looked at nothing but the picture in her mind, the picture of Jacob the way she’d seen him that first time. Sensation took her apart and she fought the end of her orgasm and the sharp edge of tears.

  She was afraid he was more than her lover. She was afraid he was her life.

  MONDAY MORNING, Melanie tried not to pace around her office while the production crew arranged the visitors’ chairs in front of her bookcase in preparation for her interview. Instead, she stood behind her desk and faced the windows, staring out at the Southwest Freeway’s frantic lunch hour traffic.

  She’d worked out extra long and hard this morning, preceded by a half hour of meditation and followed by a steaming shower that went on until she’d depleted her hot water supply. The calming techniques had seemed to help at the time.

  But then she’d arrived at work and walked into her office to find Jacob had already been there, and had left behind two stand-mounted cameras and the lighting equipment he’d need. The cocky early bird was preparing to get the worm—while the worm wanted nothing more than to squirm out of what was beginning to feel like a pressure cooker.

  After watching herself make love with Jacob on camera and giving up so much of her heart in that incredible kiss, how was she supposed to sit here and expose even more while he looked on?

  A voyeuristic participant in her undoing.

  The very cause of the same.

  The man had merely repeated her confession when she’d said the words making love. That was it. Nothing else. Nothing to indicate if he disagreed or agreed. No hint at all if he shared her assessment of what they’d done together there in his bed. Just a simple echo of her statement.

  A statement that was a slip of the tongue she really shouldn’t have made.

  She’d agreed to continue their affair for the sake of the fun and the sex. Not because she was hoping for more. She wasn’t hoping for more. Even though her attraction to him had finally come to make sense, even though what she was feeling went a lot deeper than she’d previously had the courage to admit, even though everything he was made him her perfect mate, she couldn’t mate.

  Not when her focus had to be on gIRL-gEAR.

  Not when his had to be through a lens.

  Making love. What a big fat mouth she had. A roll of duct tape would’ve really come in handy. After she taped up her mouth, she could’ve tied him to the bed frame and completely had her way with him. As if she hadn’t done just that. She had. In spades. She’d made sweet and poignant love to him. God, but she was screwed.

  “Miss Craine?”

  She jumped, then turned, smiling at the host’s inquiry. “Yes?”

  The other woman, Ann Russell, very much a Barbara Walters clone, chose the chair that offered her best personal camera angle, and patted the seat of the second as an invitation for Melanie to join her.

  Melanie would have preferred to stay where she was, thank you very much, but then Jacob walked into the room. Whether or not she was ready, the interview was on.

  She had no more than a brief moment to look at him, to see that his expression was all-business, that he was intent on the job at hand. If he’d glanced her way, she hadn’t noticed. And, dammit, her fe
elings were hurt.

  He looked incredible, once again clothed in his trademark working wardrobe of a high-fashion and fitted black T-shirt, today worn with baggy black linen pants.

  She had to curl her fingers into her palms to keep herself from reaching out and grabbing his butt, or from running her fingers through his hair, which, until Saturday morning when she’d kissed him, she’d never realized was so thick and at the same time so fine.

  This interview was destined to be a total disaster. It would be a miracle if she escaped without revealing all the things their purely sexual arrangement didn’t require he know. Especially the little sidebar fact that she was falling in love. She had to face it. Her heart didn’t tumble to her stomach for just any man.

  Without glancing his way again, she took her assigned seat, wishing for a hall pass or a doctor’s excuse, anything to get out of this particular class. But once Jacob’s assistant had measured the distance for the boom, and Ann had reassured Melanie with a last-minute pep talk and a pat on the knee, the interview got underway. After several deep breaths, Melanie calmed and put on the gIRL-gEAR face that was so much a part of who she was.

  She breezed through the answers to the host’s questions about the gIZMO gIRL and gOODIE gIRL lines, explaining her vision for meeting her customers’ needs no matter their age or their income. Shared personal details of her early fascination with technical gadgetry, the computer lab as her home away from home and her resulting boot from the cheerleading squad brought a shared laugh.

  And then Ann checked the notes in her lap and brought her gaze back to Melanie’s face. “Tell us, Melanie. How has your extreme involvement in this very unique start-up impacted your relationships? Do you have siblings?”

  Melanie shook her head even as her mind raced forward, seeking the answers she would want to give to the more difficult relationship questions sure to follow. She had to be careful, especially with Jacob in the room, that she gave away nothing of what she felt for him.

  Instead, she would need to explain the difficulty inherent in taking on outside responsibilities when work demanded so much of her time. Work had to come first, and that did not make her a chicken.

  This answer, however, was easy. “Actually, no. I’m an only child. And to answer your next question,” she said as Ann smiled, “I was brought up by a very strong mother and equally strong grandmother.”

  “No male authority figures in your life?”

  “No. And none needed,” Melanie insisted. “Not with the models of female leadership I grew up with. My mother and her mother are the two women—no, the two people—who have most influenced my life. Because of them, I’ve never doubted that I can do anything I set my mind to.”

  Ann’s smile was stage-perfect, but also appeared to be sincere. “It sounds as if they were marvelous examples of independent thinking.”

  “Oh, yes. Without a doubt.” Melanie nodded in enthusiastic agreement. “I owe all that I am to their unwavering support.”

  “All that you are?” Ann cocked her head to the side curiously. “But not all that you have?”

  Melanie laughed. “Well, the legwork and late hours have all been mine.”

  “Late hours.” Ann paused…one, two, three…and added, “How does your significant other deal with the pressures gIRL-gEAR imposes?”

  “Honestly? Most of the pressure I impose on myself.” Avoidance. Good honest tactic. And it worked, because the answer was honest, as well.

  “A perfectionist?”

  Melanie nodded. “And a workaholic.”

  “So, being reared by two women…two unattached women…” Ann tapped her pen on her notebook, increasing the drama as she thought. “Surely that influenced your thoughts on men. Whether or not you wanted one in your own life.”

  “Don’t we all want men in our lives?” Evasiveness. An even better tactic. And obviously another good answer since she heard the laughter of her spying partners in the hall outside of her office.

  Ann joined in. “I hear what sounds like agreement coming from the doorway. The recent marriage of Lauren Hollister, now Lauren Neville. How did that make you feel?”

  Careful, Mel. She had no idea what the host was digging for, but she was not about to dump on her friends. “Thrilled, of course. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Lauren so happy. Walking by her office requires sunglasses these days.” Melanie sent a wink in the direction of her door. “The glow is blinding.”

  A loud protest sounded from outside in the hallway.

  Ann continued undaunted. “I understand several more of your partners have recently become involved with long-term significant others. Do you find yourself forced to shoulder more of the company load than your married or attached partners?”

  “I’m not forced to do anything.” Melanie gave a casual sort of shrug, even while her stomach began to burn. “Sure, I work longer hours, but my lifestyle allows for that.”

  An eyebrow lifted. “Any resentment?”

  Not really resentment, or so she didn’t want to believe, but fear that her partners’ shifting priorities were threatening the company. Okay. Resentment. And guilt for admitting to the feeling—even if the admission was only to herself. “What would I resent? This is a partnership. We each have our strengths. We each have additional outside obligations. But one thing never changes. The fact that we are always here for one another. No matter what may be going on in our lives.”

  “You’re happily married to your job, then.”

  “At the moment?” Unable to stop herself, Melanie glanced at Jacob—or rather at the camera lens. The two were inseparable. A perfect couple. “Yes. Very happily,” she answered, summoning a bright smile for added emphasis. Though for the life of her she didn’t know who she was trying to convince more.

  Jacob…or herself?

  12

  MELANIE STUDIED THE NOTES on her legal pad on her way down the office hallway later that afternoon. She scowled at the list; half of the gIZMO gIRL possibilities no longer made any sense. The other half…well, she couldn’t even remember what most of them were.

  Her decision-making deadline was drawing near. Lauren needed graphics for the site. And the new print team was waiting for catalog copy. That was Macy’s department, but Macy couldn’t write anything when she didn’t have content from which to work.

  At this rate, Melanie might as well add every single product to her line since she seemed incapable of choosing the ones most likely to start a buzz among site visitors or to fulfill shoppers’ needs.

  Oh, yeah. Her input was really going to have a big impact on the gIRL-gEAR bottom line. All her claims of being the someone needed to keep the company solvent in these days of e-tail ups and downs were nothing but hooey.

  She couldn’t even decide between leopard-spotted and camouflage-patterned cell phone covers.

  What she ought to do was have Macy add a poll to the site and let the target audience decide for her, since she was so incredibly indecisive. The one and only thing about which she was certain was her need to throttle Jacob Faulkner for being the cause of her insanity.

  Life and work would both be a whole lot easier if she didn’t love him as much as she did. Because she had no idea what to do about it.

  A shuffle of papers from the conference room caught Melanie’s already distracted attention. She glanced in that direction, hesitated, tapping the eraser end of her pencil to her tablet while deciding whether or not to keep walking or to stop and go in.

  Rennie Faulkner sat at one end of the long table, a sheaf of papers in her lap, her gaze focused out the window that faced nothing but the building’s back parking lot and a strip of Kirby Drive. Her feet alternated left to right, drumming out a nervous rhythm on the thick purple carpet.

  Takes one crazy woman to know another, Melanie mused, wondering what thoughts were keeping the other woman from her work. Wondering if Rennie was having as much trouble concentrating for a reason equally as aggravating as Melanie’s.

  Men. Who needed
them?

  Holding her legal pad tight to her chest, Melanie made her decision and entered the room. “They still haven’t found you office space, I see.”

  Startled, Rennie pressed a hand to her heart, then waved off Melanie’s concern and smiled. “I have an office at school. But since I’m also the visiting counselor at two other campuses, I’m used to working on my lap. I don’t expect an entire office for the little bit of time that I’m here.”

  “Well, feel free to borrow mine whenever I’m not around.” It was the least she could offer since, if circumstances hadn’t been what they were, the other woman might have one day been her sister-in-law.

  Melanie sighed inwardly. She just needed to get over it. “What about a computer? Maybe I should talk to Sydney about getting you a notebook PC?”

  “I have one. I just haven’t yet decided on a game plan for scheduling the counseling sessions.” Rennie tossed the papers in her lap onto the stack already scattered across the table. “And thanks for the offer of the office. But as you can see—” she nodded toward the mess she’d made “—I’m not exactly the neatest freak around.”

  Now, that was interesting. Every time Melanie had seen the other woman, Rennie had been the epitome of put together, in her long skirts, coordinating cardigans and flats. So seeing her work space disheveled gave Melanie pause. She’d never seen Rennie at home, but it was still hard to imagine this to be the usual state of affairs.

  Pulling out the closest chair, Melanie sat. “Hey, we all have our messy moments.”

  Rennie only rolled her eyes. “Thanks, but I’ve never seen so much as a pencil out of place in your office. Pardon my bluntness, but messy moments my ass.”

  Melanie grimaced and then grinned. She definitely liked Jacob’s sister a lot. “Only one of my many flaws…as certain people enjoy reminding me more often than necessary. I’m trying to loosen up.”

  “Why?” Rennie asked with a shrug. “You are who you are. And there’s not a thing wrong with having an organized office.”