I open the box and pull out the plastic, removing the device from the packaging. Then I hold it up to investigate more closely. I’m sure it’s a gimmick, as Cat said, but what happens when I turn the base around like—
Oh.
The whole thing starts vibrating in my hand, and even though it’s quiet and I’m home alone, I fumble to shut it off, terrified someone can hear.
I glance at the box again, noting the words “Completely Waterproof” on the side, and an idea hits me. At least if I were in the shower, the water would hide the noise of the vibration, should anyone happen to come home, or…
Whatever. It will just make me feel more comfortable.
I change into a robe, tucking the device into the pocket and tiptoeing across the hall. I don’t know why I’m creeping about the place like everyone is home and knows what I’m doing. I need to damn well relax.
Once inside the bathroom, I slide the lock and turn the shower on, then strip off my robe.
Okay. I can do this. I can use a vibrator and give myself an orgasm and calm down about Luke. Simple.
I step under the stream of water, feeling strangely nervous, which is ridiculous. Drawing in a deep breath, I tip my head back and let the water cascade over me, thinking of Luke. I know it’s probably not wise to think ofhimwhile I do this, but… come on. What else am I going to think about? He’s the reason I’m in this mess.
I glide my hands down my chest and take my breasts into my hands, finding my nipples hard and waiting. I roll them between my fingers, letting my mind drift back to what Luke said today, about seeing me bent over the kitchen island. I remember the way he looked at me last night, the way his hands were in tight fists at his side,like he was struggling to stay in control. I wonder what would have happened if he’d lost control altogether. Would he have pushed my dress up over my ass? Gripped my hips? Yanked my panties aside and entered me? Heat pulses between my legs at the thought, and I drop my head forward against the shower wall, breathing hard.
I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I wouldnevernormally like the thought of being bent over anything, for Christ’s sake. It just feels so demeaning, not to mention dangerous. I’d have no sense of control in that position—I’d be completely at his mercy. But the thought of being at Luke’s mercy makes me want to do very dangerous things.
I reach for the vibrator and turn it on, leaning forward and bracing one arm against the shower wall, picturing Luke again. Then I lower the device between my legs, touching it to my most sensitive spot, and pleasure zings through me.
Woah. Okay, yeah. There might be something to this.
Closing my eyes, I give in to the fantasy that’s been tempting me all afternoon. Instead of being bent over in the shower, I’m in Luke’s apartment, face-down on the kitchen island. And instead of this inanimate device between my legs, it’s Luke, driving into me relentlessly from behind. He’s got his sexy glasses on, and one of his hands grasps my hip as he leans over to growl filthy things into my ear, his other hand fisting in my hair. He fucks me like he did on the plane—hard and fast, holding nothing back.
God, fucking him on the plane was so hot.
Those images come back to me now, one after the other. The way he askedDo you like that?as his fingers slipped between my thighs. The way he watched himself thrust into me like it was the best thing he’d ever seen. And when I think of the way he saidOhhh fuckwhen he couldn’t hold back anymore, heat rushes up my legs. I collapse against the tiled wall as sensation crashes through me, my mouth falling open around a silent moan, my body riding the waves of pleasure.
I stay like that for a moment: propped up against the shower wall, catching my breath, waiting as I come down from the high.
Shit, that was… wow.
Straightening up, I turn off the device and set it aside, a surprised smile pushing at my lips. A sense of empowerment settles over me as I wash my tired and satisfied body. I don’t need a man to experience that kind of pleasure. I can do it myself.
Well, with a little help from John Stamos.
I giggle, thinking about it. This whole time I assumed I wasn’t a very sexual person, but I think I’ve just been doing it wrong—because that was freaking awesome. I might be more like Harriet 2.0 than I realized.
And, if I’m lucky, I’ve made it a little more bearable to be around Luke for the time being.
18
I’m still in my bathrobe, nursing a steaming cup of coffee, when there’s a knock at the front door. After my time in the shower last night I slept amazingly well, and I’m feeling more relaxed about things with Luke. I think it was just built-up tension that needed a release. No wonder I was wound so tightly. No wonder I’malwayswound so tightly.
I stand from the table and smooth my hair, wishing I’d had the forethought to get dressed when I woke up this morning. What if it’s Luke at the door? He isn’t supposed to be here for another hour, but—
The knock comes again, louder, and I hurry across the room. This might be for the best, anyway. A fluffy dressing gown, no makeup, and bed hair is sure to smother any flames of attraction between us.
But when I swing the door open, I come face to face with a woman and boy. The woman is stunning and my first thought is that she must be a model or actress or something.
Her perfectly sculpted brows knit together when she sees me. “Who are you?”
“I’m Harriet.” I resist the urge to add,You’re knocking on our door, lady. Who the hell are you?
“Who?” she asks, making no attempt to mask her irritation.
