Jarold the Jet Warner holds the Air Force Test Pilot School record for speed in getting women into bed, but he’s never met a woman like sculptress Delilah Delgado. She exceeds every wet dream he’s ever had and makes him laugh. Before he crashed, flying was his life. Now he can picture spending his years with her.
Delilah has grown up around the world with her military family and she wants nothing to do with a military man. What she wants from Jarold Warner doesn’t involve commitment, just the exploration of their instant lust. She wants to sculpt his craggy features and let her hands and body discover every pleasure offered by his muscular frame.
What begins as a sexual fire quickly grows to mutual respect. But Delilah’s curiosity drives her to pry into what happened to Jarold before they met. And everything unravels when Jarold learns he’s sleeping with a general’s daughter.
Lust brought them together. Can love bind them forever?
Delilah made her obligatory rounds, visiting with her friends and their significant others, but she felt Jarold’s gaze follow her. She was used to that. When she acted as her father’s hostess, at least half of his officers flirted with her. Some of them invited her out, knowing that dating—perhaps marrying—the general’s daughter could further their careers. She’d grown up in a military household and had vowed she would never marry into one. But what she wanted from Jarold Warner didn’t involve marriage.
He was younger than she’d first thought when she watched him climbing the stairs. Maybe the pain in his steel gray eyes made him look older. Or maybe the silver streaks in his dark brown hair gave him that distinguished, somewhat older appearance. Even with his hair longer than the military allowed, he could pose as the poster boy—poster man—for any branch of service in the country. Female enlistments would soar. Heck, even she might enlist if she thought for a second she might meet him. Serve under him.
Her skin heated at the thought of being under him. Even though his polo shirt and slacks seemed a little loose, she knew his body type like she knew her own hands. Lean but muscular. Muscular without spending hours pumping iron in the gym. Sculpted perfection created by a divine hand.
Mine to explore at my leisure. She had a new technique she intended to try out with him. Imagining the two of them sliding naked over canvas drenched in acrylic paint made her nipples harden and heated her pussy. And what might happen in the shower afterward speeded her heart rate. Wishing she could hurry her guests away, she sighed and willed sunset to fall now.
“Did you really make the tamales?” the object of her lust asked, his voice deeper than she remembered it. He could make a fortune working at telephone sex.
“Yep. They take time, but the results are worth it. At least I think so.”
“So do I. In fact everything tastes…delicious.”
The deliberate pause made her laugh. “Tommy told you his ridiculous nickname for me.”
Although Jarold stood at a respectful distance, she felt his heat flow over her. Maybe it was the desire in his eyes or maybe his metabolism made him radiate warmth. Or more likely, her own lust made her so hot.
“How long before this party ends?”
“The invitation was from noon to five.” She glanced at her watch and saw him do the same. “I can’t kick them out for another hour or so.”
“I could,” he growled with a quick grin that made her knees feel like melting wax. “Not that I would do it.”
He laughed, but his eyes darkened to black. “I want to kiss you.”
“I want that and more.”
“Keep looking at me like I’m your favorite spice and I’ll forget my manners.”
“I… My studio’s at the top of the stairs.” She jutted her chin at the wrought iron spiral staircase. “I could take you up, then leave you there while I suggest my other guests leave.”
“Isn’t that a little obvious?”
“Not if I tell Tommy you’re waiting at the car. If you’re worrying about my reputation —”
“What I’m worried about is coming in my pants. Right now.”
Her pussy clenched. “Christmas, Jarold,” she whispered.
“Your nipples are hard, Delilah. I want to suck them.”
She moistened her dry lips. His gaze focused on them and she heard him growl.
“I think you should go up alone. If we go together I won’t want to leave,” she told him, her voice trembling.
“Hurry,” he said, strolling away as if just another curious guest investigating the artist’s lair.