Thrill Seeker (Sinful in Seattle)

Hey, it was a hard job, but someone had to do it.

An hour later, the class was over, the erection he’d shoved into his jeans ached like a motherfucker and the brunette had booked out the door yet again. Her eyes had said plenty as she examined his length with the tip of her tongue caught between her teeth. He couldn’t say definitively which contributed more to his desire—the moans and carnal demands through his headphones or the occasional swish of her pink tongue over her glossy full lips.

Now she was gone. Again.

He’d had trouble forgetting her after their first roadside meeting, but he knew it would be impossible now that he’d had time to study her when she didn’t realize he was watching. Had his arousal while looking at her the last couple of nights imprinted her in some way on his psyche? Or was it more?

He’d followed his gut with Rochelle. Maybe it was time to follow it one more time.

Michael stepped into the hallway and glanced up, surprise stopping him in his tracks. The woman who lingered in his mind like a favorite song stood waiting for him, one booted foot propped against the wall, the other tapping as if she couldn’t bear to be still. Pleasure smothered shock and his smile widened while his fingers tensed around the strap of his backpack.

“Lost, little girl?” The teasing question left his mouth before he had time to consider the wisdom of setting that tone. She was a student, and he was an employee of Rand’s and by extension, the rec center. Despite the fact that his role in her class had ended, he probably shouldn’t go there. Lonely nights by the side of the road weren’t cause to abandon ethics—his or hers. She most likely didn’t even recognize him as anything but her peter model.

Preening peter at the moment, if the tightness of his jeans had any say in the matter.

Then she grinned at him and he forgot he was even still upright, never mind who signed his checks. Just like that night on the road. Except what had drawn him then was her backbone, not her blinding smile.

“Nope, not lost. I was waiting for you.” She strode up to him, her sketchbook under one arm and her fringe purse tapping her hip. She wore it cross-body and the strap did an amazing plumping thing to already pretty impressive breasts.

Not that he’d looked. Much.

“Me?” They started walking, legs brushing until they moved far apart enough to avoid a collision. He’d enjoyed brushing up against her and learning her scent. She smelled like a mixture of charcoal and eraser and, oddly enough, mossy earth. Sort of humid and tropical.

Something he wouldn’t tell her unless he wanted to end this conversation before it even started.

“Yes, you.” She shot him a sideways glance. “Come on, a guy with a cock like yours can’t play shy very well.”

“Oh, you’d be surprised,” he muttered, amazed he didn’t blush.

He didn’t normally have conversations like this with women. Or anyone. Hard to wear the hermit label proudly if talking to strangers came easily.

It had, once. Before Rochelle he’d been a lot more social. His willingness to chat up anyone who came into the gas station where he worked had led to their first conversation. Well, that and desperation. He’d been frantic to escape from his shitty life and Roch with her fancy manners and fancier money had provided a welcome diversion.

Flirting was fun, or it had been the few times he’d tried it since those days. But flirting invariably led to cozying up in shadowy corners with coffee. Then came snuggling and soulful looks in each other’s eyes. Then came fucking, and his London Bridge would come crashing down.

Women always wanted more than he could comfortably give, especially when they saw his big house and heard that he’d lost his last partner. He’d spent far too long taking care of someone to want to resume that role right away again. A good time was one thing. Bindings he didn’t choose another.

“Is that so? You’ll have to tell me all about this shyness problem of yours.” Brown eyes twinkling, she linked her arm through his. The movement caused her entirely too soft breast to rub against his arm, and he stifled a groan. “Let’s go get coffee. I know a great diner across the street.”

“The Bottomless Cup? Yeah, it’s a great place.”

“And it’s raining out, so a hot cuppa and some soup sounds perfect.”

His first inclination was to make an excuse. Despite his interest, he’d dissuaded women for a damn long time. If he said yes to coffee, what would he say yes to next?

And how many regrets would he have if he turned her down and went home alone?

“You’re right. It does.” He smiled and motioned for her to go down the short flight of stairs ahead of them. “I have to be at work early tomorrow but it’s not that late yet. You never told me your name, by the way.” Something he should’ve asked four months ago, workplace boundaries aside.

“It’s Kim,” she replied, continuing before he could comment. “Work?” she asked, bounding down the stairs. “But you were just working. Unless you consider that play.”

“Play shouldn’t hurt that much.”

Her husky laughter dragged sharp nails of desire down his spine. “Sure you want to come out with me? Maybe I should let you have some alone time.”

He didn’t respond. Luckily she didn’t seem to need him to.

“Or maybe we should have some alone time,” she continued, shooting him a sparkling grin. “To, I don’t know, play chess. I’ve heard chess releases a lot of…stress.”