Chapter 6
The first thing Lexi did when she got home was hop into the shower. She always left her mother’s house smelling like an ashtray, and she hated it. Standing under the hot spray, she scrubbed her skin and vigorously shampooed her hair until she was squeaky clean.
When she emerged from the shower, she slipped on a pair of clean underwear and grabbed her blow-dryer. She’d just finished drying her hair when she was startled by a knock on the bathroom door.
“Lex,” called a deep, masculine voice.
She whirled around, staring at the closed door. “Quentin?”
He chuckled. “Unless you’ve got a bunch of other guys running around with a spare key to your house.” He paused. “You don’t, do you?”
“I don’t know.” A smile tipped one corner of her mouth. “I can’t remember.”
Another pause. “That’s not funny, Lex.”
She laughed, secretly relieved that she always closed the bathroom door to keep steam trapped inside the room.
The thought of Quentin spying on her while she took a shower brought a hot, embarrassed flush to her body.
Not that he’d ever invade her privacy like that, of course.
She’d gotten undressed in the same room with him many times, and he’d always kept his back turned like a perfect gentleman.
But then again, he saw more than enough pairs of breasts on a regular basis.
He didn’t have to resort to sneaking a peek at his best friend’s.
“What’re you doing here, anyway?” Lexi called through the door as she returned her blow-dryer to the linen cabinet and removed a jar of mango body butter. “Shouldn’t you be at the office burning the midnight oil in preparation for the trial?”
“Been doing that for the past five months,” Quentin answered. “I need a break.”
“Slacker,” she teased.
He chuckled softly. “I just came from the restaurant.”
Lexi didn’t have to ask which restaurant. Not a week went by without one or both of them eating at Wolf’s Soul. It was their favorite hangout, and the food was second to none.
“How long have you been here?”
“Not long. I rang the doorbell once or twice. When you didn’t answer, I figured you were in the bathroom. So I just let myself in.”
“No problem, sweetie.” She began smoothing on the rich, scented body butter. First one arm, and then the other.
“You almost finished in there?”
“Almost. Just putting on some cream.”
“Oh.” Quentin’s voice sounded strange, rough. “You’re not, ah, dressed yet?”
“Not quite.” She hesitated. “I had to blow-dry my hair. The heat makes me sweat, so I prefer to get dressed afterward.” She grimaced, wondering why she’d volunteered so much information.
Quentin said nothing.
Bracing one foot on the edge of the bathtub, Lexi spread the fragrant cream over her thigh. She massaged it into her skin, working downward to her feet before moving to the other leg.
“I brought you something to eat,” Quentin told her in that strangely thick tone.
She smiled. “Really? That was very thoughtful of you.”
“I figured you probably hadn’t eaten dinner yet.”
“You figured correctly. As usual.” Was she imagining things, or had his voice gotten closer to the door?
She swallowed, licking her lips. Staring at herself in the mirror, she began rubbing the mango butter over her belly. Her muscles quivered, tightened. She paused, then slowly slid her hands up to her breasts. An odd, tingling awareness rippled over her skin.
Without warning, her mind conjured an image of the doorknob being turned. A moment later Quentin stood in the doorway, his lids at half mast over smoldering hazel eyes. Their gazes locked in the mirror.
Without a word he started toward her, a slow, stealthy advance that made her pulse hammer.
When he’d reached the sink where she stood, he dipped his fingers into the jar of cream, scooping out enough to coat both of his hands.
Her body hummed with arousal. He moved behind her, staring at their joined reflections in the mirror.
A slow, sensual smile curved his mouth. And then he cupped her breasts.
Lexi gasped with pleasure.
He began to massage the cream into her breasts with a circular motion, starting from the outside and deliberately working his way toward her dark, distended nipples.
He brushed his thumbs against them, gently rubbing and circling the areolae.
Jolts of sensation raced to her groin. Her thighs shook, and her clitoris pulsed.
Quentin kneaded and caressed her breasts until they glistened and her eyes were glazed with desire.
As his warm lips nuzzled the side of her throat, one hand began to slide down the front of her body.
Her heart thundered. She trembled with anticipation, ached with need.
And then his fingers were slipping beneath the waistband of her panties and touching—
“Lex? You okay in there?”
The sound of Quentin’s voice snapped Lexi out of her erotic trance.
She stared in wide-eyed shock at her reflection in the mirror. At the sight of her sharply thrusting nipples, she gasped and flung her arms across her breasts. As if she could hide the evidence of her arousal from herself.
“Lex?” Quentin prompted again.
“I—I’m fine.” Her voice was shaky.
“Are you sure? You made a noise. Like you were in pain.”
Oh, God, she thought, cheeks flaming with mortification. Had she actually moaned out loud?
“I, uh, dropped something on my foot. But I’m fine. Really.”
After a prolonged moment of silence, Quentin said gruffly, “I’ll let you get dressed.”
Yes! Please go away! “I’ll be out in a few minutes.”
“Okay.”
When he’d gone, she let out a deep, shuddering breath and leaned weakly against the sink, her hands braced on the counter for support.
What the hell was she doing? Having erotic fantasies about Quentin?
Quentin? He was her best friend, for goodness’ sake!
Her confidant. The absolute last man on earth she should ever be lusting after.
Yet that was exactly what she was doing.
The steamy daydream had seemed so real, so shockingly explicit, that she’d been on the verge of climaxing before Quentin interrupted her.
Lexi groaned, bending over the sink to splash cold water on her flushed face.
This was all his damn fault. Him and that scorching New Year’s Eve kiss that had awakened all sorts of feelings and desires she’d never known existed.
If he hadn’t acted on a reckless impulse and kissed her that night, she wouldn’t be standing here now—breathless and weak-kneed, with painfully erect nipples and a throbbing clitoris.
And that was just from a fantasy! How much worse off would she be if he’d actually been inside the bathroom, doing those wickedly delicious things to her? If he’d actually made love to her?
A deep shudder swept through her. Don’t even go there, she ordered herself. You and Quentin Reddick will not be doing the horizontal tango. Not in this lifetime!
No matter how sexy Quentin was—and man, was he ever—she couldn’t allow herself to become romantically involved with him.
If one stolen kiss could wreak such havoc on their friendship, making love would irrevocably alter the course of their lives.
And considering that she’d spent the past two years trying to rebuild her life, the last thing Lexi needed was more emotional upheaval.
Dragging in a deep breath, she tugged on an old Spelman T-shirt and black leggings.
When she’d finished dressing, she surveyed her reflection in the bathroom mirror.
As part of her post-divorce makeover, she’d had her hair cut into a short bob with longish bangs that swooped over one eye.
It was chic, sleek and sexy, and the many compliments she’d received had given her a nice ego boost—something she’d needed desperately after Adam’s humiliating betrayal.
The best part about the bob was that she could wear it straight and it still looked good.
So she didn’t have to worry about curling her hair now to look presentable for Quentin.
Besides, he’d seen her wearing big rollers on her head, ugly flannel pajamas and a cucumber mask on her face. Why let vanity get in the way now?
Sufficiently satisfied that she’d wrestled her rampant hormones into submission, Lexi left her bedroom and went in search of Quentin.
She found him in the kitchen, standing at the microwave built into the mahogany paneled cabinets.
He’d shed his dark suit jacket and tie, tossing both over the back of a chair at the breakfast table.
His white broadcloth shirt was untucked from his pants, the sleeves rolled up to strong forearms dusted with black hair.
Lexi stared at the way his wide, muscular shoulders tapered down to narrow hips and those endlessly long legs.
Her mouth went dry. Had he always radiated such raw masculine energy? Such sex appeal? If so, how in the world had she remained immune all these years?
At that moment he glanced over his shoulder—and stared at her with an arrested expression on his face.
Pulse thudding, Lexi shifted self-consciously from one foot to another. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” His lazy gaze ran the length of her. “That shirt you’re wearing. It gave me flashbacks to college.”
Except in college, I didn’t fantasize about you stealing into my bathroom and running your hands all over my naked body.
Heat suffused her face.
Striving to maintain composure, she wandered into the kitchen, her bare feet padding across smooth hardwood. The mouthwatering aroma of braised baby back ribs wafted from the microwave. “Mmm, that smells good.”
As she brushed past Quentin, he sniffed appreciatively at her. “You smell good.”
“What—as opposed to the way I normally do?” Lexi quipped.
He grinned, playfully tweaking her nose. It was something he’d done a thousand times before. But now, even the simplest touch sent shivers up and down her spine.