Honk if You Love Real Men Read online

  He lifted his chin out of the water. “You didn’t run.”

  Lashes lowered, she traced her big toe over the colorful coping tiles. “So you knew I was there?”

  Small voice. Frightened?

  He should let her go, untouched. But he wanted to be selfish. “Yes.”

  “How did you get in?” After hours, the outside gate was locked, making the pool accessible only to the tenants, through the apartment building.

  “Climbed the wall. I hope you don’t mind that I took a swim.”

  “No one’s around.” She frowned. “That is, you’re welcome. I invited you, after all. Most guests—” Big breath. “—wear suits.”

  “I didn’t have one.”

  “That’s okay. I’m not complaining.” Her smile quivered a little, then became smugly serpentine. The knowledge of his naked body reflected from her eyes. He almost laughed, but then she scrubbed her hands on the sides of her skirt and he knew she was still nervous.

  He speared his arms through the water, moving closer. “Join me? Water’s warm.”

  “I don’t have a suit either.”

  He laid his palm on the pool surround. “Does that matter?”

  She lowered herself, holding her skirt tight around her thighs with one hand. After a moment’s hesitation, she sat and dropped her legs into the water. “I’m weighing my options.”

  “Underwear?”

  “Yes,” she said, her face suffusing with humor. “Unlike you.”

  Taking advantage of her distraction, he reached over and lifted her skirt, just a quick peek, but she let out a yelp and shoved it down, kicking him away. “Bikinis,” he said. “More than they wear on the beach in Rio.”

  She forgot her modesty. “You’ve been to Rio?”

  “I was all over the world for nine years. Merchant marine. Got the job when I was nineteen and looking to get away from trouble.”

  “How old are you now?” Her eyes were huge.

  “Old enough. Are you?”

  “I’m not as young as I look. That’s just my round face.” She tucked a hank of her loose hair behind her ear, curling the ends around her finger before she realized the gesture was girlish. She tossed her hair over her shoulder, tilting forward with her breasts swaying inside the slings of the halter. Her nipples were erect, two shadowed bumps teasingly visible in the open slivers between the woven threads.

  He ran his gaze over her body. She was short, curvy, bursting with wholesome goodness like a commercial touting the healthy benefits of fruit. “You’re round all over.”

  “Obviously you don’t know women. A comment like that won’t get me to strip.”

  “Hike round.”

  “Such as?”

  “What do you want me to say? Balloons and merry-go-rounds? Forget it.” He glided closer to her dangling legs, slipping a hand along the back of her calves. “I like round female bodies. Round tits, round butts, round thighs.”

  “Round tummies?” His bluntness had made her blush, and her voice was hoarse, but she wasn’t giving up. “I have a little pooch.”

  “A little pooch? Like what, a poodle?”

  She smiled, shaking her head very fast so her hair loosened and fell around her face, curving into two dark parentheses against her rosy cheeks.

  His fingers crept along her leg. “Let me see.”

  She tightened her thighs. “Not yet.”

  “You’re uncomfortable?”

  “I don’t know you.”

  He thought that was the point. “You know my name and my job. More than I know about you.”

  “My job . . .” She looked up at the building and sighed.

  “Must be important,” he guessed. “To afford that convertible and this place.”

  Her brow scrunched. “Is one job more important than another?”

  “EMT. Firefighter. Social worker. Schoolteacher.”

  “Well, yes. But lawyer over construction worker?” She shook her head. “Not to me.”

  “Are you a lawyer?”

  “Mercy, no. My job isn’t important. Especially tonight.”

  He stroked her leg. Firm, supple flesh. She worked out. In an expensive gym, he supposed, puffing on a treadmill in a coordinated outfit. Except the image didn’t quite fit.

  “What’s important tonight?” he asked. His voice rough.

  “Do I have to say it?”

  “Only if you want to.”

  She looked at him, a direct stare. The lights around the pool made stars in her eyes.

  “Sex,” she said. And then bit her lip.

  Jesse surged up out of the water like an erotic Neptune, his thighs and prodding erection the trident that cleaved her body. She was startled, but she opened to him. Her head flew back; her back arched. Her widespread thighs clasped at his hips. He pressed into her, hard and dripping wet, holding himself up out of the pool on arms that encased her like steel bars.

  His mouth covered hers before she was able to draw breath. The slam of pure sensation was another shock. She responded instinctively, melting against the heat of his massive chest. He couldn’t use his hands, so every molecule of his dominating force went into the kiss. And she ignited. She burned.

  “You mean fucking,” he said with a ferocity that curled her edges. His face was right there, strangely exciting, made of jutting bones and scraping skin. Eyes black as sin. Hot breath. Even his lips were hard as his tongue speared in and out of her mouth. “That’s all you want from me?”

  He didn’t let her answer, only pressed deeper with his driving tongue. There was some fear, but for the most she was deeply, darkly aroused. Every inch of her body was alive with a gasping pleasure, but the hottest pinpoints of sensation were at her nipples and especially her clit, where the sensitive nerve endings had knotted into a hard little pearl that worked like a hair trigger, sending her senses reeling each time the ridge of his cock ground against it.

  “Just a boy toy,” he said. “I should be insulted.”

  “You want it as much as me.”

  He put his head beneath her chin to push her head back, saying, “What gave you that idea?” as he opened his mouth on her throat.

  She gripped his hair. Her jaw sawed, but the only sound that came out was an “uh, uh, uh,” as he bit small hard kisses over her neck and shoulder and along the slope of her chest. Her nipples were on fire, aching for the relief of his wet mouth. But he didn’t continue. His shoulders hunched and with a splash he dropped into the water.

  The abandonment was sudden. She didn’t move for an instant. Then came the hot stab of awareness. Her hands plunged to her skirt, shoving the denim—patched with damp—between her open thighs because his hands were on her knees and, oh God, his face—

  “Don’t be shy.” He inhaled. “I know you’re aroused. Your scent gives you away.”

  She focused where she could without breaking into self-conscious giggles. “I am shy. Sometimes.”

  “I might believe you—” One long arm snaked out, wrapping around her butt and pulling it to the very edge of the tiles. She heard the zip at the back. “—if you hadn’t gotten wet so fast.”

  Gulp. “Shy girls want sex too.”

  Don’t be passive. Take charge. She lifted her hips and dragged the waistband past them. He helped remove the skirt and she plopped her ass down, raising her legs and pushing the garment away, chill bumps popping up on her exposed thighs as the air met her slick skin. His hands worked easy strokes into her muscles, glidingly warm. The caress was about more than seduction.

  “Besides, I learned to go after what I want,” she added. She met his eyes, saw the amused respect in the lift of his brows. Emboldened, she leaned down to rest her hands on his shoulders and launched herself into the pool with a gleeful shout.

  In a swirl of waves, he caught her around the waist. She squirmed about, laughing, keeping her knees together so he had to put the other arm under her thighs to hold her high against his chest. She felt like the queen of the circus, riding aloft on th
e elephant’s trunk.

  They bobbed together as Jesse propelled them deeper, keeping his face lifted to hers, his gaze searching. “Tell me what else you’ve gone after.”

  “Freedom,” she said without thinking.

  “From?”

  She looked away, answering him only in her head. Fear. Her greatest relief after the divorce and her move West had been to know again what it was to live without fear.

  Then why was she finding Jesse’s fierceness such a turn-on? She would not let herself be lured into an obsession. On either of their sides, she realized. Her craving was as powerful as his.

  “Oh, you know. Freedom from—” She rolled her bottom lip, trying to keep her head while at the same time she was starkly aware of the vise of his arms around her, holding her wedged against his body. And the capacity in him—in all men—to turn their physical mastery to violence. “For. Freedom for an education.”

  “Doesn’t every American have that?” His chin hitched. “Even if some of us waste it.”

  “I had extenuating circumstances.”

  “Huh. Big words. Showing off the education?”

  There was a teasing gleam in his eye, leading her to suspect that he might be the rare blue-collar man who wasn’t intimidated by her intelligence or ambition. Or white collar, she amended, thinking of the night school advisor who’d tried to direct her to acquire an “easy” degree.

  She was beginning to feel more than lust for Jesse. She slid against him like warm butter, dipping lower in the water. “I want to know about you. How long have you been on the road crew?”

  “Since I—Not long. Eight months.” His nose pressed against her collarbone. He licked her skin. Hard, pressing fingertips moved across her bottom, stirring her hunger. “Are you asking me when I intend to move on?”

  “Is it true that a Hollywood agent scouted you?”

  He snorted. “That was nothing but a load of bullshit. But how did you hear about it?”

  “Oh . . . I made inquiries of knowledgeable sources.”

  “Uh-huh. You plotted to get me here.”

  “Does that bother you?”

  “Not as long as I had a choice too.”

  “Had?”

  “I’ve made it.” He set her against a corner of the pool, having slowly paddled them out of the deep end. The water came up to his chest and she could have stood too, except that he held her in place with his body, pinning her like a butterfly with her arms and legs outspread. The inset steps were nearby, but she didn’t even try to reach for them. Instead she slithered against him, catlike.

  He let out a groan, half pleasure, half resistance. “Time for you to make your choice.”

  She worked her arms down and with a flourish pulled the crocheted halter top off over her head. Her breath caught short as her breasts tumbled out, shining wet, glowing pale as a blue moon in the dancing reflections of the water. Please think I’m sexy. Think I’m wild and outrageous.

  Jesse looked at her breasts, then at her face. His expression was raw. Hungry—so hungry, the tangible need of it rolled off him like heat from the sun—but, somehow, reluctant.

  She forced out her voice. “I say—”

  “Wait.” He lifted one breast in his palm, his thumb brushing leisurely across the nipple, making her shudder as small detonations went off inside her at every stroke. Her body flowed with sensation. She could come, she thought, if only he’d take her into his mouth and suck until the rapture ran through her hard and fast as a river.

  “Before you decide, I should warn you.” His eyes bored into hers. “So you can change your mind.”

  “I won’t.”

  “Listen.” The flat of his hand covered her breast like a shield. “I’ve been in prison. I’m an ex-con.”

  Chapter Three

  The night took on a strange resonance as Jesse’s words echoed in Estrella’s head. She was hyperalert to the swish of traffic beyond the walls, the shimmy of the trees, the warm silk of the water. And especially to herself. Skin so alive, it twitched and crawled, the chorus of blood singing in her ears, the push-pull of her desire.

  Then there was Jesse. He didn’t back off.

  “Is that supposed to scare me away?” she asked, barely keeping the wobble out of her voice.

  His gaze lowered to her breast, where he turned his hand over, gently scraping his knuckles over her tender flesh. He scooped water onto her, and she was amazed that it didn’t evaporate into steam.

  “It should,” he said, sliding his fingers over her slick skin before pulling away. “Scare you.”

  “Why? Did you do something really bad?”

  “They don’t send a man to prison for being good.”

  “But you were innocent.” She tried to smile. “Don’t they all say that?”

  “On TV, yeah.” He looked at her, his head still down. The angle seemed predatory and she wondered what he would do if she tried to stop, to leave. Although his confession had given her the option, he didn’t seem like a man who would let go easily. She might be making a mistake.

  “I was guilty,” he said.

  “Of what?”

  “Assault.”

  She shrank, giving herself a half-inch of space to slither down the pool wall until her toes touched bottom and she was shoulder deep. “What kind of assault?”

  “I beat up a guy.”

  “Why?”

  “I won’t make excuses to justify it, if that’s what you want.”

  “There had to be a reason.”

  “A woman,” he said with reluctance.

  “Ohhh.” Not what Estrella wanted to hear. She crossed her arms over her breasts.

  Jesse took note with a flick of his lashes. “It was a stupid bar fight that meant nothing. I never saw her again.”

  How could he say it was nothing? That was what her ex, Tony, used to say: I didn’t mean to. It’s nothing, just a little bruise.

  She pointed her chin at Jesse. “Must have been serious if you went to prison for it.”

  Slowly, he pulled an explanation out of himself. “I’d been involved in petty crime when I was young. Stealing cars, that kind of crap. Two convictions. I did some jail time for the second one, and when I got out, it was strongly suggested to me that I join the army to straighten up. I was too bullheaded for that kind of regime, so I picked the merchant marine instead. Got a different kind of discipline there.”

  “So this time, when you, uh, ran into trouble—” She nodded, getting it. The state had a version of the three-strikes law, where there was no lenience for a third violation—maximum sentence, no matter what the extenuating circumstances. “—that was the third strike?”

  “You’re faster than I was. Sure you’re not a lawyer?”

  Her mind was spinning in another direction. Although he’d given her a small amount of space, she was still hemmed in by his broad chest and the cage of his arms, which were braced against the lip of the pool. She should have been frightened. But when she looked at the contours of hard muscle, what might have been intimidating remained arousing. Her fantasy wasn’t going away that easily.

  She inhaled. “How long have you been out?”

  “Getting scared yet?”

  Exhale. “I was wondering if this is your first—?”

  “Nope. It’s been nearly eight months.”

  “Of course, and there are all those women catching sight of you in your handsome orange vest and throwing underwear out of cars with their numbers on them.”

  One corner of his mouth twitched. “I’d be fired if I was caught making time on the job. I’m walking a narrow line with my crew chief as it is.”

  “Then why are you here?”

  He took his time answering. “Turns out you’re irresistible. And maybe I like trouble a little too much.” He studied her face. “But I don’t think you do.”

  “Hmm. I guess you’re right. But for once I couldn’t help myself; and besides—” She ran her finger along his chest the way she’d imagined doing onl
y days ago, except instead of continuing below the water line, she made a curve upward to trace around his bulging pectoral. His brown nipple had beaded and unconsciously she fluted her tongue as she looked at it, then gave her upper lip a slow lick. “—every hardworking girl deserves a night off.”

  She put both hands on him and rubbed his chest. His skin flinched. “Make that a night to remember,” she said.

  He took a step back, looking at her, amazed. The pirate’s earring glinted at his ear. “Are you sure?”

  She nodded, keeping her mind on one track only as she slipped into position against his chest.

  “I’m clean,” he whispered, his mouth against her hair as he cradled her.

  “That’s good. Because I’m feeling kind of dirty.” Her tongue flicked against his nipple. She inhaled his scent—hot male and black tar. “That’s my confession: I want to be dirty.” She thought of him on the work crew, every muscle in use, glistening with sweat and grime. Of the words she’d already used and the ones banked inside like embers, still to be said.

  Go ahead and say it. You want to fuck.

  Good girls didn’t speak that way.

  No, but she was fed up with being good.

  Fuck me, Jesse. Please fuck me. Make me dirty.

  She didn’t quite dare. “Is that enough of an answer?” she said instead. “Can you help me out?”

  “Help you out? I’ll manage.” He lifted her into his arms again and she went without a moment’s hesitation, meeting his mouth in an unbridled kiss. His hands roamed over her body—breasts, belly, butt—as he shifted her in his arms each time he found another area to pet and squeeze. Even before they broke the kiss, he had reached for the elastic waistband of her bikini panties and snapped it. The undergarment floated away and she realized with an absurd shock that she was nude in a pool overlooked by a hundred or more windows and she didn’t care if the occupants of the entire building watched her get it on.

  Tomorrow, she would care. Tonight, she wanted Jesse.

  And Jesse’s hot mouth, and Jesse’s blazing tongue, consuming her like fire. His fingers, not reluctant, oh not at all, two of them spearing through her swollen labia, pushing into her tight clenching opening until they were lodged inside her three knuckles deep. Her buttocks tightened and she rose several inches out of the water, almost clambering him like a tree trunk, driven by an instinctive need to get away from the sudden invasion even though it felt good. So damn good, she was almost crying for it.