Forbidden Heat

“I mean more than that.” She rested her hand on his. “Are you still in love with him?”

He drew his hand away and took a sip of his coffee. A moment later, he gazed at her sheepishly. “Is it that obvious?”

“Why don’t you try getting together again?”

“Look, Danielle, I know you’re trying to help, but . . .”

“Okay. Sorry, I don’t mean to be pushy. I know it’s hard to pick up a relationship again. But it’s such a shame that you hardly even see each other anymore. You two always seemed so perfect for each other.”

“That’s because we were. But a lot of time has gone by, and when it comes down to it, if Trey really wanted to be with me, he would have found his way back.”

“How about if I come up a few times on weekends this summer and the three of us spend time together?” she suggested. “Then at least you could revitalize your friendship.”

Smiling, he took her hand. “You know, Danielle, you don’t need an excuse to come and visit. I love being with you.”

Her cheeks flushed. “Oh, well . . . uh, how about I come up next Friday and stay the weekend? I’ll make dinner for you on Friday and you can invite Trey over to join us. Then we’ll go from there.”

He nodded. “That sounds like a great idea.”

Jake turned the key in the lock and pushed open the front door. That wonderful thank-God-it’s-Friday-and-the-weekend’s-begun feeling wafted through him, but with a bright twinkle of anticipation knowing Danielle would be arriving soon.

Her conversation last week about him and Trey had dredged up the familiar pain. For years, he’d hoped that Trey would figure things out and come to terms with the fact that he could love a man. Jake had always known he loved Trey, and he had prayed that Trey would realize he loved Jake, too, and want him back. But Jake had finally given up hope when it became clear that ever since Trey found he enjoyed sex with women, too, he seemed determined to find a woman to love.

This past week, though, painful thoughts of what Jake had lost with Trey, which always haunted him after spending any significant time with him, had been replaced by vibrant memories of making love with Danielle.

He couldn’t believe how much he’d missed her this past week. Every redheaded co-ed that had sat in his classroom or come to his office to ask about this week’s assignment had reminded him of Danielle. Not that any of those young girls had tempted him. They just sent memories swirling through his mind of how beautiful Danielle had been in college with her delicate, shy demeanor, and that made him think how even more beautiful she was now that she was a woman who’d shed those reserved ways and fully embraced her womanhood.

His groin ached at the memory of her lovely face glowing in orgasm as he and Trey had brought her th

ere together last Sunday. He put his briefcase down on the floor as he unfastened his shoes and placed them on the mat by the closet. He opened the sliding door and placed his briefcase inside.

“Good evening, Master Jamieson.”

Seven

Jake started at the sound of Danielle’s voice, then sucked in a breath when he saw her standing ten feet away in the most sexy maid’s outfit he’d ever seen. Short. Baring white thighs for about an inch above the long black stockings held up by black lace garters. His gaze glided down her legs to the impossibly high spiked heels she wore.

He whistled.

“Would you like me to pour you a beer, Master Jamieson?”

Ah, so she was going to play out the role of his maid, and probably a very willing one at that.

“Yes, thank you . . . Dani.”

She smiled and curtsied. God she was adorable. The widely flared black skirt with the white lacy petticoat bounced with life. And the front of the bodice was laced to just under her breasts, the garment tight around her body. There the black garment ended and the white undergarment flared over her full breasts, which were pushed up where the deep scoop of the neckline revealed a delightful swell of white flesh and her creamy bare shoulders. She’d fastened her long auburn hair into a fancy coil at the back of her head, but curly tendrils framed her face.

She turned around and his heart rate quickened at the way the black skirt tapered upward at the back, revealing rows and rows of lace on the white undergarment barely covering her derriere. His gaze remained glued to that enticing, swaying lace as she walked toward the kitchen. He stopped at the kitchen door as he watched her retrieve one of his glass beer mugs from the freezer drawer at the bottom of his stainless-steel fridge and set it on the counter. She must have put that mug in there, because he kept them up in the cupboard. The glass frosted in the warmer air of the room as she opened a tall green bottle of imported beer and poured it into the cold mug. She set it on the end of the long black marble counter, so he sat down on the stool in front of it and took a sip.

She smiled and curtsied again, then turned around and crossed to the stainless-steel stove, where he saw she had a large glass casserole dish with a lid sitting on the glossy black cooking surface. She opened the oven and leaned forward to put the casserole inside. As her skirt tipped upward, revealing more of her upper thighs, she shifted her weight from one foot to the other, sending the lacy skirt bouncing slightly. As she leaned further still, her skirt bounced upward to reveal . . . lovely, creamy round mounds framing a narrow black triangle of silk between. He almost groaned. She was wearing a black thong . . . under that short, enticing skirt. Now as she moved around, he’d be constantly anticipating a glimpse of her sexy derriere. It would be sheer torment. And he was looking forward to every second of it.

She stood up and closed the oven door, then turned around and faced him. “Is there anything else I can do for you, Master Jamieson?”

“Uh . . . yes, Dani, would you check that bottom drawer for my . . . uh, car keys.”

It was all he could think of in his current befuddled state, but she smiled and curtsied.

“Of course, Master Jamieson.”