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  As far as Ferney knew, Kimber had met someone at last week’s party but he hadn’t asked for her number, so the plan was to return looking stunning to either inspire him to action or attract the attention of someone else. Kimber hadn’t yet mustered up the energy to tell her sister the truth. A tiny part of her even hoped the whole thing would fall through so she’d never have to. What she’d done was, by her standards, immoral, unsafe, and fucking crazy.

  And here she was, back for more.

  Inside, Kimber caught sight of Moquest standing amid a few other guys, all watching a gaggle of drunk girls with Wii remotes attempt to play Just Dance. His eyes lit up as he noticed her and gave her a brief, one-armed hug, his other hand wrapped around a Bud Light. “There’s my new favorite bad girl.”

  “Oh, shut up.” Heat rose to her face and she looked around, not quite knowing how to ask the one thing she was dying to. She settled on the innocuous “Jay here?” and was quite aware of how lame she sounded. Fumbling to make normal conversation was excruciating when there was just one thing on her mind.

  Moquest slanted her the knowing look of a man who’d seen and done it all. “He’s somewhere.” He reached into his pocket and withdrew a black sash. Just the sight of it sent arousal jolting through her. “But let’s talk about where you’ll be.”

  So nervous she could barely walk, Kimber followed Moquest upstairs on trembling legs. The rest of the partygoers were a blur as they paused before Moquest’s door so he could blindfold her.

  “Remember,” Moquest said. “No peeking.”

  “I won’t.” Her words were little more than a croak.

  She heard Moquest open the door. “What the…” He huffed an impatient sigh. “Just a sec.” A pause full of rustling clothes and the sound of electronic beeps followed. “Hey, yo, where are you? I thought… Well, what are you doing out there… God, you’re being such a tool about this. Fine. See you in a few. And you better be there or I’ll cut you.”

  The cell phone snapped closed and Moquest took her elbow. “Change of plans. Back down the steps, doll.”

  “What’s going on?” Kimber grabbed onto Moquest’s shoulders as they slowly descended the stairs. Fear cut through her heady, hedonistic thoughts and overwhelmed any idea of what the other guests thought of her, wandering around with Moquest and wearing a blindfold. “Does he not want to see me?”

  “No way.” They reached the ground floor and he took her elbow again. “He’s just being difficult, for whatever reason.”

  She sensed him lead her outside through a cloud of smokers, who murmured their amusement about her sightless state. Then they were in the yard, her heels snagging again as the crowd faded away. “Where are you taking me, some axe murderer’s cabin in the woods?”

  “Close-the garage. And watch where you’re going. The neighbor’s dog likes to shit out here.”

  “Matthew!” She slugged where she estimated his shoulder was, her knuckles connecting with his collarbone instead.

  He let out a “heh,” a laugh not much more than a hiccup. “I’m only being serious.” He caught her hand in his before she whacked him again. “Calm down, Rocky, we’re here.”

  Kimber waited what felt like eons with her heart in her throat while Moquest opened the side door to the one-car garage. The smell of moldy, dusty boxes and damp clumps of grass still clinging to gardening tools flooded her nostrils.

  “Hello?” Moquest called.

  “Yeah, I’m here,” came the deep, muffled reply that spiked her desire.

  “Thank God.” Moquest’s hands were warm on her back as he steered her forward, her shoes clacking on the concrete. “Have fun, guys.”

  The door closed, and a heavy silence fell over the confined space. She could hear the muffled sound of the party outside and felt so aware of herself at that moment, aware she was on display. Even through the blindfold, she could tell the garage was dark; no stray light or shadows worked their way through her blindfold or closed eyelids.

  Kimber heard him clear his throat followed by the squeak of a riding lawn mower seat as he presumably stood. “Hey.” His voice was rusty and vaguely familiar, although her lust dulled her senses and her memory for anything outside this moment.

  “Hey.” Her own voice sounded small but loud in the quiet garage. “I was starting to think you didn’t want to see me again after all.”

  “That couldn’t be less true.”

  She felt his presence before her, and her breath caught. Then came his hands on her bare forearms, and her goose bumps were instantaneous. His fingers entwined with hers, and she imagined white-hot sparks rising from the touch.

  “Speaking of seeing you,” he said, “you look irresistible tonight.”

  She bit her lower lip and fidgeted, already wanting their innocent hand-holding to escalate to epic Letters to Penthouse proportions. “Then prove it. Don’t resist me.”

  “Trust me, that’s the last thing I want to do.” He sucked in a deep breath, his grip tightening. “But I have to tell you something.”

  “Before you tell me,” she interrupted, “will you do me a favor?”

  “What?”

  “Kiss me.” She could hear herself begging and didn’t care as she leaned into his body, hard and warm beneath the thin fabric of a well-worn T-shirt. “Please?”

  He groaned-in defeat or desire, perhaps both-and finally his mouth was on hers. Kimber untangled their fingers and slid her hands up his chest, taking her time and the opportunity to feel him beneath her palms. She could feel his heart pounding. Good, that put them in the same boat. Her arms tangled around his neck and she pressed herself against him fully as their sweet, closed-mouth kisses lost their hesitance and intensified with need. She parted her lips, allowing his tongue to flicker against hers, and the sensation sparked through her, making her whimper. He encircled her waist with his arms and attempted to shuffle backward, then stumbled to the accompanying sound of jostled metal.

  He broke off the kiss with a breathless swear. “Fucking lawn mower.” His hands captured hers again as he put some space between them. “Just as well. I hate to say this, but we really shouldn’t do anything else until you hear what I have to tell you.”

  “I have to tell you something, too.” Kimber advanced closer, forcing him backward, and heard him move into the lawn mower’s seat. “And it’s that I’m not a selfish lover.”

  He drew in a shaky breath as she felt her way into a sitting position on his lap. “The thought didn’t cross my mind.”

  She maneuvered so that she straddled his waist, her short dress shifting up her thighs and exposing the lacy cream thong she wore, and she could tell by his tremulous exhale that he noticed. “So I just wanted to let you know,” she said, punctuating her words with kisses, “that I plan on returning last week’s favor.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I could tell you.” Kimber’s hand slid between them to give his already hard cock a squeeze through his jeans. “Or I could show you.”

  He released a whoosh of air and grabbed the back of her head, pulling her in for a kiss that left her lips swollen. She pushed the hem of his shirt upward, the thin trail of fuzz just below his belly button tickling her palm. Then she undid his belt buckle and lowered his zipper, but before she could do more she felt his fingers tracing light circles over her clit through the thin, soaked crotch of her thong. Distracted beyond comprehension, Kimber gave up on her quest for his pleasure and surrendered to the rhythm of his touch. Energy flowed from the tips of her fingers and toes as he massaged her clit with his thumb. She rocked her hips into his hand, craving more, and let out a moan as he pushed aside the thong and slid a finger along her slick entrance.

  “You’re so wet,” he mumbled, mystified, like he couldn’t believe he could possibly be turning her on as much as he was. Kimber could scarcely believe it herself. Her lust was getting dangerous, and fast.

  As much as she wanted him to slip a finger or two inside her aching cunt, she vowed to stick to
the original plan of selflessness. It took a great deal of willpower to wriggle off his lap and away from his touch, and considering her temporary blindness and the fact they were fooling around on a riding lawn mower, she was hardly graceful about it. She stumbled and bumped into the wheel as she slipped from his lap. “Stop sidetracking me.” Her hands returned to his open zipper and slipped inside. “I’m on a mission.”

  “Please don’t do this.” Despite his plea, which escaped him in a breathy rush, everything about his tone begged otherwise. He even lifted his hips so she could tug his jeans down.

  “Why not?” She stroked him up and down. He certainly didn’t feel like he wanted to stop. He was hard and smooth and thick and perfect.

  “Because what I want to tell you is really important, and I should’ve told you right off the bat but-”

  Warning bells gonged in her head and she paused. “You have an STD?”

  “No. No, no, no, nothing like that. I’m clean.”

  “A girlfriend? Fiancée? Wife?”

  “None of the above.”

  “You just gunned down your whole family and are on the run.”

  He breathed out a laugh. “Hardly.”

  She smiled and resumed her caresses. “Then whatever you have to say can wait, can’t it?”

  “It really, really shouldn’t.” His voice trembled as she cupped his balls and rolled them in her palm. “And if you keep doing what you’re doing, I’m not going to be able to stop.”

  “What about if I do this instead?” Kimber gave the head of his cock a flick with her tongue. Judging from his sharp intake of breath, this was exactly what he’d meant.

  She crouched low on the mower and took him between her lips, alternating between sucking and swirling her tongue around the head. Encouraged by the abbreviated moans coming from the back of his throat, she took him farther in her mouth, savoring the experience of giving him head for the first time, liberated from the knowledge of any shortcuts to a quick, easy bliss. She took her time, licking her way from tip to base and back to the tip again. She used every muscle in her mouth to tickle his nerves and teased him until she felt his hands on her shoulders, and he pulled her up and toward him for a rough kiss.

  “Still feel like talking?” she murmured against his mouth.

  In response, he tore her panties down with a speed and finesse that left her speechless. She heard him rummage in his pocket and a foil wrapper rip, then he tugged her back in his lap, her knees on either side of him. He kissed her while she felt between them, fumbling for his cock and finding it already sheathed in latex. The knowledge that it was in preparation to fuck her made her dizzy with want.

  Impatient, she guided his cock to her entrance and sank down, moaning in his mouth as she experienced the length of him at a deliberately slow pace. Never had Dane filled her quite like this, but it was senseless to compare them at this point.

  His hands slid up her thighs and over her ass and lower back, like he couldn’t get enough of touching her, like he couldn’t believe his good luck. It was empowering, to say the least. She took him in as far as she could before rising, whimpering as she felt his cock slide against her walls in reverse. Then she lowered herself, starting the rhythm all over again.

  The lawn mower squeaked beneath them as he dug his fingertips into the curves of her ass, urging her to go faster, and she complied with the silent command. He widened the low, draping neckline of her dress, exposing her right breast, and took her nipple in his mouth, hardening it with the wet slide of his tongue.

  She twisted her fingers in his hair, holding him close to her as his teeth scraped her sensitive skin. An “oh God” slipped from her lips, and then another and a third as his mouth left her nipple and he raised his hips, pushing upward against her, meeting her movements. She gripped the back of the mower’s seat for leverage and let him take control of the rhythm, having no choice but to enjoy herself. It felt good not to be a martyr in bed for a change. Not that they were in a bed per se, and this went beyond good. She couldn’t recall a time when she’d been so delirious with bliss.

  Her whimpers and soft, airy groans echoed through the relatively silent garage, their volume and breathy, needy quality turning her on even more. She’d never realized she could sound or be so sexy. Imagining what her moans must be doing to him, she leaned forward, angling herself so her clit met with the base of his cock, and screamed her way into an orgasm with him slamming into her.

  He’d been fairly quiet aside from his erratic breathing, but his body convulsed beneath hers and he released a choked “oh fuck” that sounded like he’d been bottling it up for years.

  Kimber pressed her lips to his in a sweet, indolent kiss, her heartbeat still hammering in her ears. He replied in kind, his hands traversing her skin as though he was memorizing her, the moment. That touch told her she hadn’t made a wanton mistake; despite its unorthodox start, whatever was happening here actually meant something. This was real. She didn’t know anything practical about him, but she intuited she knew everything important.

  She drew away from him, wanting to ask if she could take off the blindfold but not knowing how. Furthermore, the unveiling partially terrified her. She wondered, even in such an intimate position with his cock softening inside her, if she was ready to know the truth. It was a fear she couldn’t explain, even to herself.

  “So,” she said, opting for a slightly different route, “what did you have to tell me?”

  He took a deep breath and held her tightly for a moment before releasing her and helping her stand on the concrete again. Then he adjusted her dress in place and pressed her crumpled thong in her hands. She heard the jangle of his belt buckle and his zipper hissing back into place while she awaited a response, confused.

  Distance fell between them and then came the groan of the side door opening, followed by the noise of the not-so-far-off party. Finally, he said in a choked voice, “That I can’t see you anymore.”

  By the time she yanked off the blindfold, he was gone.

  Chapter Five

  Jay had tried. He’d arranged to meet Kimber in the garage, figuring it was the least sexually suggestive place to do so. Who could possibly be turned on in such an environment? Him, apparently. Kimber could probably make the apocalypse sexy. His libido didn’t seem to have a conscience; all his good intentions of staying focused and morally sound dissolved as soon as she kissed his cock, and his willpower had gone the way of ancient Rome. Just a few seconds of the memory made him hard. He’d thought the only way he’d ever see Kimber deep throat his cock would be via his dreams, but when she actually did it, he couldn’t have imagined it better-because it was one hundred percent real. And when she directed him inside her and rode him to oblivion…

  But not even the recollection of Kimber’s tight cunt milking him dry and bringing him to the fringe of paradise could make him forget or ignore the immediate aftermath. She’d made his dreams come true, and he’d essentially dumped her minutes later. It was a scenario he’d thought less probable than her ever giving him head. Maybe such an unlikely event happening was signifying the aforementioned end of days. The impending arrival of the Four Horsemen was the only excuse he had for explaining his insane, out-of-character behavior. Was this traipse down the slippery slope toward mental illness a new development or something that had been lying dormant?

  Jay was intensely afraid of the person he’d become. For all his insisting he’d intended to do the right thing, why then had he spent the past week, calling upon that one acting class he’d taken in college and working on a way to disguise his voice? Why would he do that if he’d planned to tell Kimber the truth? He couldn’t be sure of anything anymore, sans his intensifying feelings for her and his self-loathing in himself.

  He drove past Kimber’s apartment complex the next morning, noticing her car in the lot and cringing. He was scared to face her, to face her sadness and shock and then to try to comfort her while pretending he wasn’t the one who’d plunged her into
misery. He’d help her wish a plague on the house of this heartless, nameless bastard who’d used her up and thrown her away-himself. Jesus, the situation became more screwed up by the second.

  Jay turned the Monte Carlo around and parked in the empty spot beside Kimber’s battered coupe, unable to ignore the possibility of her in pain, especially since it was his fault. As he made his way to her door, he rationalized that this was the perfect time to not only offer his friendship and support but to do some damage control. He could play devil’s advocate and suggest reasons why her lover bailed to keep her self-esteem and optimism afloat. It seemed a fine plan, yet it still managed to deeply sicken him.

  He knocked on the door to apartment 18 and waited as he heard footsteps muffled by carpet rush toward him. Then he heard a knock mimicking his come from the other side and the door unlock. He twisted the knob and stepped inside, where he saw Kimber settling on her futon, freshly showered and looking comfy in frayed jeans that were too big for her and a vintage-looking navy T-shirt displaying a Honolulu surfer.

  She rested her laptop atop her crossed legs and gave him a brilliant smile. “Hey! This is unexpected.”

  “You took the words right out of my mouth.” He shut the door behind him and eyed her with suspicion. No signs of tears, distress, or loss of sleep. Then again, women were tricky, deceitful creatures; talking to them was like negotiating a minefield. Kimber could combust into a rage at any given moment and body parts would start flying.

  She gave him a strange look at his comment but otherwise didn’t acknowledge it. “What brings you here?”

  “Just passing by. Thought I’d check in.” There it was-the first truth he’d told in days. When had he turned into such a liar? He glanced around the room, unable to look at her for too long without wanting to crack. “The place is really coming along.”

  “You think?” She chuckled and took a long pull on her juice box, her cheekbones caving until the staccato sound of the last few drops trapped in the straw filled the room and she let it drop, empty, on the scarred wooden end table. “One futon and a few magazine pictures taped to the wall, and you think this joint’s a palace?”