Rock My World Page 6

  To his credit, he didn’t even blink. “Believe me, I know that. And it’s not that I haven’t been tempted…”

  “Then what’s the problem?” She leaned toward him, one hand on his knee. “Is it the cameras? We can cover them, or go someplace else….”

  He shook his head, and gently moved her hand away. “We can’t risk it. You know about the blowup I had on air with Bonnie, right?”

  She frowned. “Yes. But what does that have to do with you and me…?”

  “The station got a big fine over that. And another one when you had your, um, debut.”

  She sagged back against the chair. “I get it. You’re saying if anything happens again, it could be really big trouble.”

  “Yes, and you’re too new in your career to risk that. And I have too many other black marks against me.”

  “What black marks?” The Hawk was the most straight-arrow jock at the station. He never showed up so much as a minute late for work, never complained of a hangover or told the off-color jokes that were Nick’s trademark. If anything, Adam had a reputation as the station intellectual. The thinking man’s DJ. From what Erica could gather, the episode with Bonnie had been totally out of character for him.

  “I got in trouble at a station I was at before,” he said. “Big trouble. Carl was the only station manager who would even give me an interview when I came to Denver. I can’t risk blowing that. Do you understand?”

  She nodded. “I understand. But I think you’re worrying over nothing. We aren’t on air now. What we do here—as long as we stay off-camera—is our own business.”

  He looked at her a long moment, his eyes burning into her, searching. What did he hope to find? “It’s not just about the FCC or the job,” he said. “It’s not a good idea for two people who work together—especially on air, in the public eye—to have any kind of relationship. There are too many complications. That’s why Carl made a rule against it.” He shook his head. “I don’t expect you to understand, or even agree with me, but the last thing I want is more complications.”

  She stared at him. The man was worried getting involved with her might be complicated? What a complete and total cop-out. Did he think she was too much for him? Was he worried that she was another ball-buster Bonnie? Please tell her he wasn’t that cliché of all clichés, a man burned by a woman and afraid to love again.

  “So you don’t want to start anything with me because it might interfere with our jobs,” she said.

  “That’s right.” He looked relieved. “I knew you’d understand.” He stood and unfastened the tie of his robe. “It’s late. Let’s go to bed.”

  He took off the robe and folded back the covers. The thinking man’s jock had obviously spent a lot of time pondering his feelings for her. Too much time.

  She stood and walked around to her side of the bed. Alone under the covers, with the lights out, maybe she could find a way to turn off Adam’s brain, and force him to focus on his feelings. Feelings weren’t complicated at all. And she intended to do her best to see that neither of them had anything to regret come morning.

  5

  ERICA WAS AWARE of Adam lying still beside her. Too still. Was he holding his breath? Was he afraid he might accidentally brush against her? She turned on her side toward him. As her eyes adjusted to the dimness, she could make out his profile. “Do you think the security camera can really see anything in the dark?” she asked.

  “They can see. They probably have infrared technology. You know, like nightscopes.”

  “What about hearing? Do you think they can hear anything?”

  He didn’t answer right away, as if debating his answer.

  “They might.”

  “I don’t think they do. The security guard in our building just has a bunch of television screens, showing different views. There aren’t any microphones. It’s probably even illegal to record customers’ and employees’ conversations like that.”

  He shifted lower under the covers. “Maybe you’re right.”

  She slid her hand over until it brushed his thigh. The muscles contracted at her touch.

  “You’ve got to stop,” he said, his voice strained.

  “Why?”

  “I’m not made of stone.”

  She squeezed his thigh. “Obviously not.” Though there was one part of him she hoped was rock-hard.

  “I thought you understood why this wasn’t a good idea.”

  “I understood why you thought so. I don’t happen to agree.” She scooted closer, her hand moving up his thigh, toward his crotch. He grabbed her wrist, stopping her. “You said having an on-air relationship, in the public eye, was a bad idea. But you’re forgetting one thing.”

  “What’s that?” He turned his head to look at her, his eyes dark shadows.

  “We don’t work together on air. Not normally. This is a special case, and it’s only one more day. And two nights.” She brought her other hand up to rest on his chest. “You do want me, don’t you?”

  “Yes.” The final “S” was a hiss, like air escaping an overpressurized balloon.

  “And I want you.” She bent and kissed his shoulder.

  “The cameras.” The words came out in a croak.

  She glared up at the smoked plastic bubble. “Whose idea was it to put that thing right over the bed?”

  “No one asked my opinion.”

  “We could go somewhere else. The rest room, maybe.”

  “For all we know, there are cameras there, too. At least outside the stalls. Besides, what’s sexy about a public toilet?”

  She tried to picture them going after it in the tiny washroom and made a face. Nothing like cold tile and porcelain and the smell of commercial pine cleanser to kill the mood. She lay back on the pillow and sighed. “I hate when logic gets in the way of a perfectly good plan.”

  “I’m sorry. Believe me, you don’t know how much.” He released her hand.

  “Let’s just talk, then. We can do that, can’t we?”

  She counted three heartbeats before he answered. “Sure. What do you want to talk about?”

  “You said you worked in Carmel once. Are you from California?”

  “Yes.”

  She waited, but he didn’t elaborate. “Where?” she asked. “On the coast, or in the mountains?”

  “The coast. A little town called La Conchita.”

  “Did you surf?”

  “Some.”

  She tried to picture a younger, tanner Adam, balanced atop a surf board. “You’re a long way from the ocean for a surfer dude.”

  He laughed, the single sound dissolving the remaining tension between them. “Now I snowboard. What about you? Where did you grow up?”

  “Right here in Denver. Can you believe it? I’m a native.”

  “A rare breed these days.”

  “So you grew up in California. How did you end up in Denver?”

  He hesitated, then said. “You know how it is in this business. People move around a lot. The job brought me here.”

  “And how did you get to be such an expert in rock trivia?”

  “My dad gave me a book about it for Christmas one year. It was something he was interested in.”

  “How old were you when he gave you the book?”

  “Eleven. He died not too long after that.” The words were matter-of-fact, but she thought she heard the pain of that long-ago loss in his voice.

  “That must have been tough, losing your dad that young.”

  “Well, you know…Anyway, some guys memorize sports stats, with me it’s always been music.” The covers rustled, as if he was shrugging. “It’s a way to stand out in the business.”

  It struck her that this was the most personal conversation they’d ever had. More so than earlier even, when he’d told her about Bonnie. Lying in bed in the dark made such intimacy seem more natural, even if they weren’t touching.

  She stared up at the hidden camera again. Like an unblinking eye, it could only see what was directly in
front of it. In plain view. Not anything that was hidden, for instance, under the covers.

  The need to touch him was overwhelming. The emotional closeness they’d found only made her crave physical closeness, too. Carefully, as if coaxing a skittish wild animal, she slid her hand across the six inches of space between them.

  She heard the sharp intake of his breath when her fingers brushed his erection. He was definitely hard, and she could feel his heat through the flannel of the pajama pants. Had he been like that all day, wanting her as much as she wanted him? The thought started an insistent pulsing between her legs.

  “What are you doing? You can’t—”

  “Why not?” She wrapped her hand around him, stroking him lightly. But that wasn’t enough. She released him momentarily and moved up and slipped her hand beneath the elastic waistband.

  “Erica, don’t—”

  He grabbed her wrist, but she shook him off and grasped his naked shaft, reveling in the satiny heat of him. “As long as we keep our movements under the covers, how will anyone on camera know what’s happening?”

  He lay still, letting this information sink in. “You don’t think they can see our faces?”

  “Turn toward me and they can’t.” She tugged him toward her, providing an incentive for him to do as she asked.

  He rolled over onto his side, and rested his hand on her hip. “This is crazy.”

  “It is, isn’t it?” She grinned. “Exciting too, don’t you think?” She stroked him more firmly, debating diving under the covers to get her mouth around him. But anyone watching on TV would have no doubt what was going on then. Right now, they might assume the two jocks were engaging in a little pillow talk, but nothing more.

  “Take your pants off,” she urged. “Your shirt, too.”

  He hesitated, then said, “Only if you take off yours, too.”

  She rolled onto her back once more and wriggled farther under the covers, closing her eyes. See, I’m just going to sleep now, she silently told whoever might be viewing the image from the camera overhead. All very innocent.

  The feel of the satiny sheets against her naked breasts and thighs increased her arousal. She shuddered as the fabric dragged across one sensitive nipple. When had she ever been so aware of her body, so consumed by need?

  She had scarcely pushed her pants to her ankles when Adam’s hand rested on her stomach, pinning her. “You’re so hot,” he murmured, and slid his hand farther, up to her breasts.

  “I’m glad you think s—” The words dissolved into a moan as his fingers closed around one breast, massaging her, cupping her, then lightly pinching her nipple.

  “I’ve always thought you were hot. Even if you are too young for me.”

  “I’m twenty-five,” she said. “Not so much younger.”

  His hand stilled. “I thought you weren’t a day over twenty-one.”

  “I know I’m older than most interns, but it took me a while to decide on a major in college.” She’d started out in kinesiology, thinking she could be a physical education teacher. Then she’d moved to journalism, before finally settling on broadcasting. She put her hand over his, encouraging him to continue fondling her. “But I promise, I’m plenty old enough to do this.”

  He took the hint, and tugged hard at her nipple, then moved his hand to the other breast. “Ohhhh.” She let her breath out in a slow stream.

  “Don’t forget the camera,” he whispered, his mouth close to her ear. She forced her eyes open, and stared up at the camouflaged lens, forcing her face to remain impassive, to not reveal the desire storming through her.

  He moved away from her breast and she gasped with regret, but his touch returned quickly. His fingers were wet now, playing with the nipple, sliding it between thumb and forefinger, tugging at it, rolling it against his palm.

  She bit her lip to keep from crying out, and pressed her bottom against the sheet, resisting the urge to squeeze her legs together. “That feels so good,” she gasped.

  She was wet and throbbing, more than ready for him, but he was in no hurry to leave her breasts. He transferred his attention to the other peak, stroking and fondling until she was on the very edge of control. She closed her eyes and sucked air in through her nose, her hands clutching at the mattress.

  “I wish I could see you,” he said. “Naked, like this. Your nipples hard and wet from my mouth.”

  All she could manage in answer was a moan. How had this happened? She’d intended to be in charge here, yet now he had her helpless, every inch of her focused on his fingers roving over her and the hard knot of need between her legs.

  He hooked his leg over hers and pulled it toward him, so that she lay spread-eagle beneath the covers. He trailed his fingers down her stomach, scarcely touching her, sending a flutter through her middle.

  She arched toward him, craving his touch, but he didn’t satisfy her immediately. He brushed his fingertips across her curls, and then his palm, then traced one finger along the top of her thigh, where it met her torso. “You’re teasing me,” she protested.

  “Payback for what you’ve been doing to me all day.” She heard the smile in his voice. “It’s a good thing we were sitting down most of the day. I don’t think I could have walked, the condition you had me in.”

  “You’re terribly stubborn. I had to take drastic measures.” Her voice rose on the last syllable, as he plunged one finger into her. The movement startled her and sent a fresh wave of more intense arousal slicing through her. Her muscles tightened around him, trying to hold him in her as he withdrew.

  “Do you like that?”

  “No, I hate it. Can’t you tell?” She turned her head toward him and saw him bring his finger to his mouth and suck on it. Tasting her. The intimacy of the gesture brought a knot of emotion to her throat. “I’d rather have your cock in me, but for now, your finger will do.”

  Her words had the desired effect. He immediately returned his hand to her crotch, his forefinger sliding into her while his thumb pressed against her clit. She moaned as a second finger joined the first, and his thumb began to brush back and forth across her clit. No more gentle teasing now. He was focused and thorough, bringing her to the very edge of her need and over.

  She arched toward him, fighting against the need to moan, or even scream. The battle between the appearance of self-control and the need for release somehow intensified every sensation. Her climax pulsed through her in waves, each one deeper and more intense than the one before. A low, keening cry escaped her lips. By the time Adam brought his hand to lay between her breasts, he was trembling, as if shaken by the intensity of the moment, or his own growing desire.

  She reached for him, her hand grasping his erection firmly, wanting to satisfy him the way he’d satisfied her. His fingers wrapped around her wrist, stilling her. “Wait a minute,” he said. “Let me catch my breath.”

  They lay there for a long moment. In the stillness, she heard the ticking of a nearby clock, followed by the hum of the air conditioner as it cycled on. Then she became aware of Adam’s breathing, faster at first, then a more normal rhythm. He relaxed his hold on her wrist. “All right. Go for it.”

  She started to comply, then smiled, remembering the way he’d teased her. She slid her hand down and grasped his balls. His body jerked, and air hissed from his lips. Taking another hint from his technique, she brought her hand up and licked the palm and fingers, then moved back to cup him. She began to stroke the underside of his shaft with one finger. A single tendon or blood vessel stood out in sharp relief, pulsing with each pass of her finger. He groaned.

  “Remember the camera,” she whispered. “Pretend someone’s watching.”

  “I don’t know how to tell you this, but that isn’t exactly a turnoff for me.”

  She laughed. “Me, either. It’s kind of exciting.” She moved her hand up to the head of the shaft. A single drop of fluid was poised there, and she spread it across the head with the tip of her finger. “Even if we can’t afford to give them a
real show.”

  She licked her other hand and brought it alongside the first, turning toward him to get a better grasp. If she closed her eyes, would their anonymous—and possibly mythical—watcher think she’d gone to sleep?

  But she opened her eyes again. She wanted to watch Adam’s face when she made him come.

  She encircled his shaft with both hands, fingers laced, and began to slide up and down, twisting slightly at the top before starting down again. She’d read an article once that had assured her this technique was effective and devastating, but before now she’d never had a chance to test the theory. Judging by the way Adam’s eyes rolled back in his head and he clenched his teeth and arched his spine, she’d say the author of the article was on to something.

  His breathing was ragged and she found herself matching him, breath for breath, her own desire spiraling upward again right along with his. There was something very erotic—incredibly intimate—about being in charge of someone else’s pleasure this way. Always before, sex for her had been a matter of each partner taking what they needed from the other, each absorbed in their own satisfaction, though aware of their partner’s pleasure. This moment with Adam was different, each taking turns focusing solely on the other, each allowing the other to give an incredible gift, something precious only the other could offer.

  She felt the moment he was about to come, his body tensed, straining toward release. She increased the pressure of her movements slightly and, risking the camera’s unrelenting gaze, she laid her head on his chest, wanting to be closer to him.

  His arm wrapped around her, drawing her near, even as he came in her hand. She cupped one hand over the tip, capturing his warm, sticky essence, feeling him pulse in her palm, until he sagged back against the mattress, his arm still holding her to him. “Tell me this is not another erotic dream,” he said.

  “Another? Have you dreamed about me before?”

  He turned his head to look at her. “Let’s just say you’ve been the featured attraction a time or two.” He groped on the floor beside the bed and came up with his T-shirt. “You can use this to clean up. I’ll get another.”