Getting Hotter Read online

  “I’m thrilled about it! Claire is going to make your brother such a wonderful wife.”

  He held back a snort.

  “Beautiful, smart, successful. And that girl is so very sweet,” Shanna babbled on. “Did I tell you she came by with chicken noodle soup when I was sick last week?”

  Yeah, probably because she had an ulterior motive of some sort, Dylan almost replied. He also didn’t mention that he suspected Claire had zero respect for his mom, which she’d broadcasted loud and clear during that last visit by scoffing at Dylan’s insistence that “homemaker” absolutely counted as a real job. Shanna Wade had been a stay-at-home wife and mother for more than half of Dylan’s life, but clearly Claire McKinley didn’t think that counted as work.

  “Claire’s a real sweetheart, all right,” he said lightly, hoping his mom wouldn’t pick up on the distaste in his voice.

  “Your brother told me you’ve agreed to be his best man.”

  “I did. I’m looking forward to it. I’ve never planned a bachelor party before…”

  “Dylan Wade, don’t you dare get your brother a stripper!” Shanna said in outrage.

  He laughed. “Relax, Mom. I won’t.” Naah, he definitely wouldn’t get a stripper. More like many strippers. But his mother didn’t need to know that.

  As his mom continued to chat about the upcoming wedding, Dylan got distracted by the sound of muffled footsteps in the hall, followed by a door opening and closing. When he heard soft feminine laughter and a low male murmur, he realized that for all the pomp and circumstance of this condo, the walls were pretty thin.

  It wasn’t until twenty minutes later, after he’d hung up with his mom and was getting ready to crash, that he realized just how thin those damn walls were.

  Thump-thump-thump.

  Thump-thump-thump.

  Thump-thump-thump.

  The unmistakable rhythm of a headboard banging against the wall sent an ambush of raunchy images to his brain. Aidan was probably working Lani over real good—his trim hips pistoning, ass flexing with each deep thrust. Or maybe Lani was doing some riding, impaled on Aidan’s cock, her long fingernails digging into Aidan’s sculpted abdomen.

  Saliva pooled in Dylan’s mouth. He nearly groaned out loud. Managed to swallow the agonized sound, but controlling the erection that sprang up was impossible. It was official. Coming here had been a bad idea. A really, really bad idea.

  But there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it. He’d already given up his room to Miranda; he’d be a total ass if he suddenly demanded it back. And if he went home anyway and tried to sleep on the couch, there was no doubt in his mind that Miranda would drag him back to his room and revert to bunking on that tiny bed with her kids.

  So going home was not an option. He supposed he could crash at Jackson’s place in Imperial Beach, but hopping from one guest room to another seemed kind of ridiculous. Might as well suck it up and stay here at Aidan’s place.

  It was only for a week. Surely he could refrain from doing something stupid for the next seven days. Granted, the nonstupid course of action would’ve been to not come here in the first place, but he’d already made his damn bed, and now he had to lie in it.

  Another forbidden image flew into his head.

  He quickly shot it down with a mental rifle and banished it from thought.

  Alone. He’d be lying in the bed he’d made—alone.

  Was she really going to do this?

  Miranda killed the engine but couldn’t bring herself to get out of the car. She stared at the pale light shining through the gauzy white curtains of Seth’s living room window. Kim was probably in there, doing homework or watching TV. And Seth…well, he was probably waiting for her in his bedroom.

  Naked.

  With condoms handy.

  Ready to fuck her.

  Miranda’s cheeks scorched. Gosh, had she actually said all that?

  She wondered if it was too late to change her mind, but at the same time, she wasn’t sure she wanted to. Why couldn’t she sleep with Seth? She hadn’t had sex in seven years. Seven years. Didn’t she owe it to herself to get laid? She wasn’t a nun, for Pete’s sake, and a girl did have urges, after all.

  But was Seth Masterson the right man to satisfy those urges? Physically, definitely. She was attracted to him like nobody’s business, and there was no challenging his ability to turn her on—she’d almost orgasmed simply from his touching her breasts. But seven years of celibacy was a long time. Shouldn’t she ease herself back into the whole sex thing with someone who wasn’t so…sexually overwhelming? Dip her toe in the shallow end instead of diving into the deep end right off the bat?

  She ran a hand through her hair and released a disgusted breath. Okay. Enough second-guessing. Really, there was only one question of any importance here, one question she always asked herself before she made any life-altering decisions: Will this hurt my kids?

  She’d posed that same inquiry when deciding whether to leave Vegas, and now she applied it to Seth. To sex with Seth.

  Would her sleeping with him hurt Sophie and Jason?

  No. How could it? If she was dating Seth, that would be a different story. She wasn’t an idiot—she saw the way he acted around her kids. Uncomfortable, curt, tense. He’d tried toning down those reactions after she’d asked him to be nicer to the twins, but she still sensed his reluctance to interact with them. She knew the kids sensed it too, yet ironically, Seth’s aloofness only seemed to strengthen her children’s determination to win him over. She didn’t understand it. Normally, Sophie and Jason despised being around folks who didn’t want to spend time with them. With Seth, they were on him every second, each trying to earn his approval in their own way—Jason with his endless questions, and Sophie with her smart-aleck remarks.

  Unfortunately, neither approach had succeeded in wearing Seth down.

  But that wasn’t the issue. The question was—would a sexual involvement with Seth hurt her children? As much as she wanted to, she couldn’t bring herself to answer yes to that. As long as she and Seth exercised some discretion, the twins wouldn’t even have to know they were involved, which meant there was no reason to hold back.

  No reason to keep resisting.

  Drawing in a deep breath, she slid out of the car and headed for the house.

  Five minutes later, after she’d walked Kim out and locked up, Miranda drifted into the guest room to check on the twins. They were sleeping soundly, and neither so much as stirred when she fixed their blanket and planted soft kisses on their foreheads.

  Quietly shutting the door behind her, she cast a quick look at Seth’s closed bedroom door, then bypassed it on her way to Dylan’s room. She still couldn’t believe he’d given up his bedroom for her, but it didn’t surprise her in the least. Dylan was truly a stand-up guy. Great with kids too—Seth could definitely take a lesson or two from his roommate.

  But although it bugged her that he didn’t seem to be warming up to the twins, Miranda knew she couldn’t be angry with him for it. He wasn’t auditioning for the role of Sophie and Jason’s father, and she couldn’t expect him to love her kids just because she happened to think they were awesome.

  She entered the master bedroom with purposeful steps, pausing to admire the four-poster, king-sized bed that dominated the large space. Then her gaze drifted to the door of the private bath, and she had to wonder if Dylan and Seth had drawn straws to decide which one of them would get this room.

  When she stepped into the bathroom, she found it as clean as the rest of the house. Okay, it had to be a military thing, because she’d never met a tidier pair of men.

  She turned on the shower, stripped and stepped into the tub. The warm water felt like heaven on her sore shoulders and she moaned softly, longing for the day when she could quit her job at the club and just focus on running All That Dance. Soon. Soon the school would do more than break even, and she’d be able to support her kids without spending four nights a week behind a bar counter.


  Miranda stayed in the shower for longer than necessary. Washed her hair, shaved her legs, lathered up with the vanilla body wash she’d brought over from the apartment earlier today. Her skin was pink and pruny by the time she stepped onto the fluffy blue bath mat.

  In the bedroom, she simply stood there in her towel, chewing on her bottom lip. Should she even bother getting dressed? She’d be naked again soon enough.

  The thought sent a shiver dancing up her spine.

  What if one of the twins wakes up and needs you?

  The mom in her raised a valid point. She quickly rummaged through the duffel bag full of the clothes she’d packed up over at her place. She found an oversized red T-shirt and slipped it over her head, then dug out her hairbrush from her toiletry kit and ran it through her hair a few times. Then, straightening her shoulders, she walked out of the room. She took several deep breaths and assured herself she was doing the right thing. Urges, damn it. A girl had urges.

  When she reached Seth’s door, she knocked ever so softly. His gruff response came a second later. “Come in.”

  Swallowing, she turned the doorknob and entered his bedroom.

  Oh sweet mother of God.

  Miranda’s entire body burned as if she’d stepped into a five-alarm fire. The light spilling from the small bedside lamp revealed a very naked Seth lying on the bed. His dark head was cushioned by a couple of pillows leaning on the headboard, and a hardcover novel whose title she couldn’t make out sat on the bedspread next to him.

  Her gaze grew frantic, unable to focus on any one detail—there were too many that required her attention. Like his spectacular bare chest. Jesus, that chest. Tight six-pack, perfectly sculpted pecs, a light dusting of dark hair that arrowed down to his…Oh God, she couldn’t even look at it right now, not unless she wanted to self-combust. She focused on his long, muscular legs instead, the intricate design of yet another geometric-looking tattoo on his right shin.

  Every inch of her tingled, pulsed, vibrated with pure, raw need. She lifted her gaze to Seth’s gray eyes, unsurprised by the mocking glitter she saw there.

  “I’m naked, Miranda.” His voice was a sexy, dangerous rasp. “I’ve got protection.” He waved a hand at the end table, where a box of condoms sat innocently, waiting to be opened. “So now give me the word, and…”

  She sucked in a wobbly breath. “And what?”

  “I’ll fulfill the last part of your request.”

  Oh yes, he would. And she got the feeling fulfilled was exactly the right word. After avoiding it for this long, she finally let her gaze rest on the heavy erection between his legs. He was big. Thick, uncircumcised and deliciously hard.

  Her breath hitched when he suddenly wrapped his fingers around the cock she’d been admiring and gave it a sharp tug.

  She moaned. Out loud. Eliciting a smug smirk from Seth.

  “Everything okay?” he asked casually.

  Without answering, she reached for the hem of her shirt, bunched the fabric between her fingers and pulled the garment up and over her head. Leaving her as naked as he was. Leaving her vulnerable. Exposed.

  Seth’s sharp intake of breath was encouraging. So was the way his eyes smoldered as they roamed her body.

  She knew she was in great shape—dancing five days a week guaranteed it—but that didn’t mean she didn’t feel self-conscious. The last man to see her naked had been Trent, and that was seven long years ago. She’d had an eighteen-year-old’s body back then, not nearly as curvy as she was now, and the four-inch Cesarean scar running horizontal to the top of her pubic area hadn’t been there before, either.

  “Just the way I imagined you,” Seth murmured.

  She gulped. “What way was that?”

  “Beautiful. Fucking beautiful.”

  Her cheeks heated with pleasure rather than embarrassment. The compliment fueled her confidence and gave her the courage to approach him. Her heart began to pound, legs trembling a little as she reached the side of the bed and met Seth’s eyes.

  He slid up higher, set his book on the table, and held out his hand. An unspoken question flickered in his expression.

  She stared at his outstretched palm.

  Now or never, Miranda.

  Ignoring the nervous butterflies fluttering around in her belly, she took Seth’s hand and allowed him to draw her into his lap. She instinctively straddled him, whimpering when the tip of his cock brushed the top of her mound.

  Seth let out a strangled groan. “Yeah, that can’t be happening yet. Not if we want this to last.”

  He quickly rearranged down south so that his erection pressed into her thigh instead, and then he brought his hands to her waist, sweeping his thumbs over her hip bones while his hungry eyes continued to eat her up.

  When his gaze rested on her nipples, they hardened in response, her breasts growing hot and achy. Seth didn’t say a word as he stared at her chest. He didn’t say a word when he slid his fingers through her long, damp hair. Didn’t say a word as he slowly leaned closer. Or when his other hand traveled up her body, avoiding her breasts and coming up to touch her cheek.

  The room was completely silent save for their breathing, hers slightly unsteady, his a soft hiss. Miranda couldn’t take her eyes off his mouth. She wanted to kiss him so badly she could taste him.

  “Seth,” she whispered.

  “What is it, baby? What do you want?”

  “I…”

  His voice was gruff. “I promised you this would be on your terms. Tell me what you want me to do.”

  “No,” she blurted out.

  A frown puckered his brow. “No?”

  “I don’t want to be in control,” she confessed. “I’m always in control, and I don’t like it. So I’m giving you back the control you relinquished. Take it back, okay?”

  His mouth quirked in a faint smile. “You sure about that?”

  She nodded.

  The smile widened, becoming downright predatory. “Okay, then,” he said, and then he cradled the back of her head and pulled her mouth down for a hard, reckless kiss.

  Miranda gasped, unprepared for the erotic assault, unable to do much more than hold on for the ride. His tongue plunged into her mouth without invitation, so greedy, so dominant, each hungry thrust making her moan with abandon.

  The kiss grew hotter and hotter, their tongues dueling and breaths mingling. She laid both palms flat on his chest, steadying herself, feeling the rapid beating of his heart beneath her hands. The evidence of his excitement only heightened her own.

  Her eyelids fluttered open when Seth abruptly broke the kiss.

  “C’mere, baby, let’s show you what you’ve been missing these past seven years,” he drawled.

  Before she could blink, he’d flipped her onto her back. He lay next to her on his side, propped up on an elbow, his free hand closing over her breast. A zing of arousal bounced from her chest right down to her sex.

  “I love these tits,” he murmured as he squeezed one, then the other. “I’ve been fantasizing about them for months.”

  His seductive touch made her shiver. “You have?”

  “Mmm-hmmm. I’ve jacked off while thinking of them. Several times.”

  Heat jolted through her. “Really?”

  Chuckling, he feathered his thumb over one nipple, toying with the rigid bud. “Why do you sound so surprised? I thought I made it pretty fucking clear how much I wanted you.”

  “You did. I just…I didn’t think you…um, thought about me once you left the club. Out of sight, out of mind, you know?”

  He gave a firm shake of the head. “You’re always on my mind, Miranda. Always.”

  Her breath caught, her pulse speeding up. She would’ve liked to hear more about his fantasies, but apparently Seth was done talking because he swiftly lowered his head and captured her nipple between his lips.

  Miranda jerked as if she’d been electrocuted. Oh God. His mouth was so warm, his tongue wet and insistent as he flicked it over her nipple with a
bsolute precision. If she hadn’t been lying down, she would’ve keeled over. Pleasure rippled through her, pulsing in her breasts and vibrating between her legs.

  “Feel good?”

  She moaned her approval.

  “What about this? Does this feel good too?”

  He purposefully trailed his hand down her stomach and over the dark curls of her mound, found her clit and drew a lazy figure eight over it with his index finger.

  Miranda almost passed out the second he touched that sensitive nub. Her hips lifted, seeking more contact, her thighs parting of their own volition.

  Seth idly rubbed her clit, his gray eyes fixed on her face as if he were assessing her responses. She watched him watch her, but her eyes couldn’t stay focused for long. His delicious ministrations were too distracting.

  When he pushed one finger inside her, she cried out, stunned by the shock waves that rocked her body.

  Seth immediately stilled, concern crossing his face.

  “No, keep going,” she pleaded. “Please. It’s good. It’s so good.”

  Pure male arrogance lit up those stormy silver eyes. “Not nearly as good as it could be.”

  Before she could question him, he was gone, his big, muscular body all the way at the foot of the bed. He gripped her thighs, holding them open as he brought his face to her pussy and gave it a soft kiss.

  She came.

  She honest-to-God came from that one featherlight kiss to her clit, from the feel of his hot breath on her damp folds.

  Crying out in shocked pleasure, Miranda squeezed her eyes shut while the orgasm ripped through her. Her toes curled, thighs trembled, pulse raced. The climax didn’t last long, just a burst of hot agony and intense bliss, fading as quickly as it arose.

  When she opened her eyes, she found Seth looking up at her with unrestrained amusement.

  “Can I get started now?” he asked dryly. “Or are you going to spontaneously orgasm again?”

  Miranda let out a wheezy laugh, still stunned by the unexpected release that had hit her without warning. “Seven years, baby. What did you think would happen?”