One MardispA/s

Chloe wandered inside, reaching over to switch on the overhead light. The large room flooded with glowing brightness; slowly she studied the very male décor. Surprisingly, Chloe found that she actually liked the earthy tones of the walls and carpet.

Meandering farther into his domain, she saw the wide mattress and quirked an eyebrow; with an inner grin, she unerringly made her way to his bed. Dropping onto it, she smiled in cat like contentment when the water mattress underneath her gave and swayed.

“Ah, I thought so,” she said, closing her eyes as she scraped her nails over the blue satin sheets.

Brady watched her, his mouth and throat dry as she caressed the bed. If she had any idea what she was doing to him then she was an evil, sadistic woman.

“I…um, what?” he asked.

Chloe slit her eyes open, a knowing smile tilting her lips. She loved this, the power she had over men, and she loved to use it. And it didn’t hurt that Brady Black was quite a looker.

“I said I thought you had a waterbed. At least, I thought it when I saw it; I love waterbeds. The way they shift underneath you when change positions, the feel of the warm water underneath your body…it can be very…erotic,” she told him, leaning back on her palms.

Brady felt himself strain against his jeans; if she didn’t stop her little would-be seduction soon, then she was in for a damn long night.

“Uh, yeah, I can, um, I can see that,” he answered, shifting in the doorway. “Okay, then, it’s, uh, it’s really late, so why don’t we…”

“Go to bed,” she finished, lifting an eyebrow. “I couldn’t agree more.”

He waited for her to leave, prayed she’d go to her room before the sight of her on his bed drove him insane. But she didn’t move; she just sat there, that satisfied smirk on her face, and waited.

She was dancing around fire here, he thought, swallowing audibly, and he wondered if she understood the consequences of tempting Brady Black.

“Chloe, I just met you a few hours ago,” he said, walking slowly toward her. “All I really know about you is that you handle yourself well with drunk men, you’ve obviously been a waitress before, you’ve got no place to stay, and your sexier than any ten women have a right to be. But I’m warning you, I’m just a man; I don’t know what kind of men you’re used to dealing with, but I don’t walk away when a challenge is thrown at me. You keep tossing the guantlet down at my feet and eventually I’m gonna pick it up. I’m human, I’m not made of steel.”

Her gorgeous eyes strayed down to the bulge in his pants, then traveled back up his muscled torso.

“You could have fooled me,” she teased.

“Damn it, Chloe, don’t do it. I’m warning you…”

“I’m a big girl, Brady Black, and I’m not a nun either. If you expect me to be soind ind of sweet little lost girl, you’ve got it wrong. I’ve been thirty since the day I was born; I make my own decisions and I live with the costs.

“I like you, you’re cute, you’re nice…th all all I really need to know.”

He stared at her, wanting her, imagining her sprawled naked across the sheets, her dark chestnut hair spread around her like a halo. Then he thought of what she’d just said, of how she’d talked about herself. He should be jumping on top of her right now, taking advantage of the open invitation, but he couldn’t.

He’d had one night stands before, had dived head first into a hot night of virtually anonymous sex. But as he stared into her seductively controled face, he saw something else there. A kind of hardness, an edge that he understood and related to. He could also sense another side of Chloe Lane that he was very much afraid she was slowly, and deliberately, doing things to in order to destroy. It was there in her eyes, the little girl lost that she’d denied so vehemently was there.

Damn it! He wasn’t going to be able to sleep with her; not tonight at least. Not with the image of her as a child, her long hair in pigtails, tears falling down her angelic face, so sharply focused in his mind.

He was going to throb in pain tonight, and his other brain was going to curse him to hell. But he wasn’t going to take advantage of the situation.

“Go to bed, Chloe,” he told her, his voice strained.

When she stood and reached for the bottom of her shirt, he took in a quick breath, then hissed it out.

“No, damn it to hell, not in here. Go to your room,” Brady ground out.

Chloe stopped, shocked to say the least. She’d never, never, been turned down; not since she’d lost her virginity at fifteen to a college boy in his parents pool house. She didn’t know whether she should laugh or cry.

“You…you’re sending me to my bed?” she d, id, incredulous.

“Yes, yes I am,” he answered, running a frustrated hand through is hair. “Go…go on.”

She dropped her hands from her shirt and cocked her head, studying him for a moment, then obliged.

Slowly, she walked to him, meeting him in the doorway, and turned to catch his glazed stare.

“I…I don’t understand you,” she whispered.

“Yeah, well, I guess I don’t understand me, either,” he rasped.

When she turned to leave him completely, he grabbed her arm, turning her back around.

“Just remember what I told you, Chloe. I’m just a man, I’m not a fucking statue; don’t make offers that you don’t really mean. Becaune dne day, cher, one day my crotch will take over and you’ll find yourself underneath me, screaming out my name. Just remember that.”