He wanted to tame Tara so they could work together, so he could keep this job—but taming her might be the very thing that lost him the damn job.
Tara awoke later that night, the lamp still on, almost startled to find herself in bed with a big warm male body, his hair-roughed arms around her and one hairy muscled leg twined with hers. His soft breathing told her he was asleep.
Remembering her astonishment at the size of him when he’d removed his pants, she slid a hand down his side, over his square hip bone and lifted the covers enough that she could peek down at their bodies. His penis, soft but still impressive, lay against her thigh, thick and heavy, his balls beneath it fat and round. Her gaze was glued there, studying the perfect shape of the round head of his penis, when he twitched against her. She dropped the duvet and her eyes flew up to his, which were now open and watching her with amusement.
“Do you like what you see?” he asked, his voice raspy. She pressed her lips together in embarrassment, then she shrugged.
“I’ve seen bigger.”
“Bullshit.” He rolled her onto her back and pinned her down. A small gasp escaped her lips. His eyes gleamed wickedly, his mouth curved and those dimples flitted across his cheeks. His face was really dark now with scruffy beard and she put a hand up to touch his cheek, to stroke the roughness there. He closed his eyes briefly at her touch, rubbed his cheek against her hand. “I guess I need to shave.”
“You’re a little rough.”
“Yeah.” He held her gaze. “But you like it rough. Don’t you, Tara?” His voice was a velvet seduction.
“Um…”
He kissed her mouth and she felt him hardening, lengthening against her thigh. “I know what you like.”
“You do not.”
He arched a brow. “You’re going to argue with me? Now?”
She blinked.
“Go ahead,” he invited her. “It turns me on when you argue with me.” And he kissed her again, igniting every nerve ending. Jesus. She’d been fighting with him ever since he arrived and here she’d been turning him on. Talk about the wrong strategy!
And yet the knowledge she affected him that way made her all warm and syrupy.
In the morning, Joe woke first. He studied Tara sleeping, her eyelashes curved fans on her cheeks, her pretty mouth soft. In sleep she was vulnerable, sweet.
The truth was—she was always vulnerable and sweet. She just hid it well. And something squeezed his heart at that realization.
He rolled carefully out of bed and pulled on his jeans sans underwear. He wandered through the spacious house, with airy vaulted ceilings and gleaming golden wood floors, into the kitchen. There, square terra cotta tiles were cool beneath his feet.
He gazed out the window onto the tiled terrace with a small, Spanish-style fountain, currently dry, shaded by a vine-covered arbor. Clay pots of palms and other tropical plants were scattered here and there. He could easily picture some comfortable lounge chairs, shaded by olive and oak trees or pulled into the sun, looking toward the craggy mountains in the distance.
The kitchen was large, although a bit outdated, and he opened a few cupboards, then the freezer to look for food. Ha! A loaf of bread. Frozen, but that was no problem. A jar of peanut butter in a cupboard would complete the meal. While the bread toasted, he located coffee and quickly spooned the grounds into the coffeemaker and got that started.
While the coffee brewed, he explored the house. He found a large dining room furnished with a kind of retro-chic 1950s Scandinavian-style dining set. He assumed Tyrone slept in the huge master bedroom when he stayed. There were four other bedrooms, two with ensuites, another large bathroom, a small powder room and a half empty room that could be anything…a den, a library, an office, another bedroom. The views from the windows were spectacular, lots of light and sunshine flooding in through them in a way that couldn’t help but make you feel cheerful.
A short time later he carried a tray with a plate stacked with toast and peanut butter and two cups of coffee—both black, no cream or milk to be found, so he hoped Tara could handle that—down the hall into the bedroom. Tara rolled over in bed as he walked in, half awake.
Her honey-blonde hair hung in tousled strands around her face, eyes sleepy, mouth swollen. She was fucking sexy as hell. His dick twitched.
“I thought I smelled something,” she murmured, shoving her hair back.
He set the tray on a dresser and carried her cup of coffee to her.
She sat up and took it in both hands. “You made breakfast?” She peered up at him.
“Yup. Not much to choose from. Sorry your coffee’s black.” He paused.
She shrugged and sipped it. “I can drink it black. Mmm. This is good.”
“And I found a loaf of bread in the freezer.”
She shook her head, eyes questioning him. “Um…thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” He sat on the bed, the plate of toast between them, his own cup in his hands, and leaned forward to kiss her.
“I’m starving,” she said. “Cheese and crackers wasn’t enough dinner for me.”
“Me either.”
“Do I get to get dressed today?” she asked him, with just a hint of snark.
He considered that. “I don’t know. I’d love to keep you naked, but the truth is, that just makes me horny, and without condoms…”
She lowered her chin. “I have to go home.”
“Why?”
“I…uh…”
“If you tell me you have to go in to the office, there’s no way in hell you’re getting any clothes back.”
She blinked at him. “Uh…”
He grinned. “It’s the weekend. Neither of us has any reason to go back.”
“Yes, but…”
He shrugged and took another bite of toast. “So, we’ll get condoms. There must be somewhere around here.”
“Santa Ynez.” She snapped her mouth shut. Joe grinned.
She sighed. “It’s only a few miles away. It’s kind of a cute little town.”
“Perfect,” he said. “I’ve never been there. Let’s go check out Santa Ynez.”
“I’m going to need clothes.”
He laughed at the waspish tone in her voice. “Oh all right, if you insist.”
“And I need a shower.”
He grinned and stroked up her spine. “A shower sounds good. Let’s go.”
She met his eyes and bit her lip. “Um…alone,” she muttered.
“Nope. We shower together.”
Her eyes darkened. No way was he giving her a chance to run while he was in the shower. Even though he knew the shower was going to lead to more sex. Well, at least that was a good place to have sex without a condom.
He followed her into the small bathroom and she cranked on the water. Soon steam filled the room and they stepped into the enclosure.
She eyed him uncertainly, eyes flickering. She’d never showered with a man before. He’d bet his Porsche on that. Sweet.
“Ladies first,” he told her, reaching for a bottle of body wash. He squirted some into his palm and slicked it over her abdomen. With a few rubs, he worked up a good lather, nice and soapy and slippery, gliding his hands up and down over her pretty body. Her breasts. The feeling of a pair of tits all soapy and slick was like nothing else. Especially hers. Firm resilient flesh all slippery in his palms. Her nipples hardened into tight little points. Christ.
Then he slid a hand between her legs, gently soaping her pussy, expecting she was tender there. She moaned. Hell yeah, he had to make her come. So he turned her so her back pressed against him, her ass round and fitting perfectly into his groin, and found her clit, water pounding down on them, running into his eyes, and he fingered her to an orgasm, her head falling back on his shoulders.