Assume the Positions Read online

  Her mouth stroked his briefly and her mind struggled to understand how she’d gotten close enough for that touch. Had she moved?

  Her lips brushed his again, but rather than move away, she continued to push closer.

  Oh shit.

  She was kissing Ethan. Her brain kicked into high gear.

  Red alert! Abort! Abort!

  Her practical side was practically screaming for her body to step away from the hot man. But apparently her body had its own agenda.

  His fingers moved from her chin and along her cheek, taking up residence in her hair. His hand pulled her closer and he deepened the kiss, forcing her lips open with his, exploring her mouth with his tongue.

  Holy crap. He was kissing her back. She wrapped her arms around his neck and struggled not to moan when his other hand traveled up and down her back, rubbing delicious patterns through her shirt that made her want to purr like a kitten.

  They continued to kiss, but Rachel’s racing mind kept fighting for the control her body had seized.

  This is wrong. He’s so far out of your league I’m not sure you can consider yourselves inhabitants of the same planet. He’s a patient.

  The last thought jarred her enough that she pushed away abruptly.

  “Shit,” Ethan muttered when she struggled out of his embrace. “I was wondering when that head of yours was going to get in the way.”

  “What?” she asked.

  “You think too much,” he replied.

  “That’s not true. I just don’t think it’s professional for me to be kissing you in the clinic.”

  He grinned. “But it would be okay if you kissed me outside? The door’s right there. Let’s go.”

  “It’s not professional, period. I shouldn’t have— It was wrong of me to—”

  “Kiss me?” he supplied, and she could see he was enjoying her predicament far too much.

  “Yes,” she hissed.

  “Did that overactive brain of yours happen to notice that I was kissing you back?”

  Oh, her brain noticed—it just didn’t want her to be happy. Meanwhile, every other major organ and nerve in her body was singing—big time. Her nipples were cutting through the satin material of her bra, her stomach was still doing happy flip-flops and she was noticing regions south of her waist reappearing after deserting her years ago.

  She shrugged. Seemed like the easiest thing to do.

  “Why wasn’t my name on your list?” he asked.

  She burst into laughter.

  “I’m serious,” he persisted when she continued to chuckle.

  “You sound as if you’re hurt by the omission,” she said. “Is this some male ego switch I’ve triggered? I would think you’d be relieved. You don’t have to worry about some sex-starved divorcee setting her sights on you. Trying to lure you into her lair.” She raised her hands in a claw-like fashion and made a scary face.

  He didn’t smile at her joke, so she lowered her hands and shook her head. “I like you, Ethan. You’ve become a good friend these past couple of months and I wouldn’t dream of annoying you like that.”

  “Annoying me? You think I’m not attracted to you? Sexually?” he asked, setting off her laughter again.

  “Oh damn, now that is funny,” she said between giggles. “Well, I guess I’ll just have to say it. You’re hot, Ethan. Super hot. And about a decade younger than me.”

  “I thought that was the point of this challenge of yours,” he argued.

  “Well, let’s just say there’re younger men and then there’re younger men. In the world of women like me, you fall into the untouchable category.”

  He nodded, but she could see he didn’t like her answer. “I didn’t see that ‘untouchable’ thing holding you back a few minutes ago.”

  She sobered up at his scowling face. “As I said, I shouldn’t have done that.”

  He was silent for several uncomfortable moments and she wished she could read his mind. “I’ve screwed up everything tonight, Ethan,” she added, desperate to fill the void. “Can we just start this whole PT session over? I’ll even let you sneak in and scare me again.”

  His face cleared suddenly and his cocky grin returned. She took a deep breath of relief—until his next words knocked it out of her again.

  “Put my name on your list,” he demanded. “The top of your list. And then mark out every name under it. You’re going to follow through on that dare…with me.”

  Chapter Two

  Rachel stared at the ceiling in her bedroom the next morning, trying to wrap her head around Ethan’s proposition. After his insistence that his name be added to her list—he’d waited until she’d picked up the pen and actually wrote it on the damn thing—they continued with their usual physical therapy routine as if nothing unusual had occurred. As he was leaving the clinic last night, he’d given her a quick peck on the cheek and told her he would be in touch. What the hell did that mean? In touch when? And what would he be touching?

  She groaned as the same nagging feeling in the pit of her stomach returned. She’d tossed and turned all night with an ache that wouldn’t go away until she’d dug out the vibrator Monica had sent all the cougar ladies for Christmas. Rachel had treated the gift as a joke, throwing the thing in her nightstand and never touching it again…until last night.

  She squeezed her legs together tightly and debated going for round two with the wickedly fun toy. Just the mere thought of Ethan had her dying for sexual relief. This sudden, unfamiliar sex drive was going to put her in an insane asylum or break her Laundromat bank. The man had only kissed her, for God’s sake, and yet she’d had to change her panties twice during the night, she’d gotten so wet…dreaming of Ethan and imagining all the things she wanted to do to him.

  She was just reaching toward the nightstand for the vibrator when her phone rang. Screwed by the bell.

  “Hello?” she said.

  “Good morning.” Ethan’s deep voice shot through the telephone line like an electrical shock and she squirmed again at the juices his sexy, masculine tone produced. Shit, she was going to give up wearing panties altogether at this rate.

  “Hiya. What’s up?”

  “Not you, by the sound of your voice. Have to admit I sort of saw you as an early-to-bed, early-to-rise kind of girl.”

  Well, he certainly had her pegged. Normally she was up at the crack of dawn. It was his fault her usual routine was out of whack.

  “It’s the weekend and I have nothing to do. Thought I’d give myself a nice, relaxing sleep-in.”

  Liar, liar, pants on fire.

  She was about as relaxed as a stockbroker hopped up on Starbucks.

  “Well, I wouldn’t say you have nothing to do,” he replied.

  She paused for a moment and considered her schedule. Was she supposed to be somewhere? She didn’t recall making any plans. Certainly none with Ethan. She’d sure as hell remember that. “I don’t understand.”

  “There’s a package outside your door. I want you to go get it. Your instructions are inside.”

  “Instructions?” she asked, her heart rate accelerating. Ethan had been by her place? This morning? Why oh why hadn’t she heard him? He could have taken the place of the lousy vibrator.

  “Don’t sound so worried, Rachel. You’ll like this assignment. It involves making a list.”

  She grinned at his joke. “You know, there’s nothing wrong with making lists and being prepared. It wouldn’t hurt you to be a little more organized—might actually prevent you from being late all the time.” She could tease as well as the next person.

  “Yeah, well. You won’t have to worry about that tonight.”

  “Tonight?” she asked.

  “I’ll be at your place at seven sharp.”

  “You will?” She realized her voice had taken on a higher pitch with each consecutive question and she cleared her throat. “Why?”

  “It’s all in the package,” he replied enigmatically. “And Rachel, wear something sexy. See you later.”


  He hung up the phone with a light chuckle before she could wrap her lips around the word goodbye. Her brain was actually still trying to process the “something sexy” comment. She didn’t do sexy. She wouldn’t know sexy if it bit her in the ass. Her mother had trained her well and she was quite firmly ensconced in the land of prim and proper.

  Dammit.

  She jumped out of bed and walked to her front door, not sure if she wanted to see what was in Ethan’s surprise package or read his instructions.

  Rachel opened the door and found a small square box neatly wrapped in brown paper. Carrying it into the living room, she dropped onto the couch to open it, grinning as she tore the paper. She loved presents.

  She gasped when she lifted the lid on the box. Inside was a new copy of the Kama Sutra.

  Holy shit.

  She picked up the book and flipped through the pages, her mouth dropping open a little bit farther with each subsequent photographed pose.

  An envelope dropped out of the front cover and she bent to retrieve it from the floor. Inside were Ethan’s instructions, as promised. It was a sheet of paper much like the paper in her notebook. He’d numbered down the side column one to ten and had even supplied a heading.

  Kama Sutra Positions I Want to Try with Ethan.

  Holy, holy shit.

  Time to call in reinforcements.

  She grabbed her laptop from the coffee table and fired it up.

  She sent an email to all the ladies on the Tempt the Cougar blog. She’d mentioned hot cop Ethan and a few of her racy fantasies involving the man in past posts and several of her friends had suggested him for her cougar experience. She’d always brushed off the suggestions, saying it was as unlikely as Donald Trump getting a decent haircut.

  Subject: Help me!

  Ethan wants to help me fulfill this damn cougar challenge—TONIGHT! He’s serious about it too. What the hell am I supposed to do? He just gave me a copy of the Kama Sutra and told me to pick out some positions to try. Then he told me to wear something sexy. What the hell is that supposed to mean? I’m as sexy as the Queen of England. Oh my God. Kill me now. How did I let you girls talk me into this?

  Monica popped up in a chat window almost immediately and Rachel laughed aloud at her friend’s advice—so typically Mon.

  Monica: OH. MY. GOD. If you do not do this you will regret it for the REST OF YOUR LIFE. First, pick some positions that don’t require circus acrobat training. If he’s totally hung, try the Clasping or Indrani positions. But my personal favorite? The Tigress. Rawrr. Um, Sam likes that one too.

  Rachel: And the sexy part?

  Monica: I hate it when men say that. How do you know what he thinks is sexy? I mean, maybe he totally digs the French maid thing. Or plain cotton underwear. If I were you, I’d just open the door naked. I bet he won’t object.

  Rachel shook her head, feeling only a bit less freaked out. Monica was the queen of free spirits. She didn’t have an inhibited bone in her body. Open the door naked. As if.

  An email from Cam came next.

  Subject: re: Help me!

  What to do? Enjoy the heck out of it, honey! As far as the Kama Sutra goes…well, if it was me, I’d grab a mirror and try out positions to see which ones are the most flattering. But hey, that’s me and my insecurities. Go for it. And post details tomorrow.

  She closed the laptop and walked to the bathroom carrying the Kama Sutra. As she stood in front of the mirror, she looked at her reflection more closely than she had in a very, very long time. Shortly after her divorce, she’d stopped looking in mirrors completely. It had taken her several months to come to grips with the fact that Alex, her ex-husband, hadn’t left her because of her problems, but because of his. He was a shallow, self-serving asshole who ranked image above love, honor and respect in order of importance.

  She was much better off without him, and she’d even developed a nagging sense of pity for his new wife, Carolyn. A leopard didn’t change his spots, and she wondered how much longer the bride behind door number two would shine bright enough for Alex to keep her around. Eventually Carolyn would be tossed aside for a newer model, and she actually felt sorry for the woman—to an extent.

  Usually until she remembered finding the bitch in bed with her husband and then she just laughed with glee at the old “what goes around, comes around” saying.

  Her reflection showed her just what she’d expected—a woman in desperate need of a dye job. The roots peeking out were grayer nowadays than the mousy brown of her youth. She checked beneath the sink and found a box of L’Oréal—light auburn. Thank the hair dye gods. At least she would be saved a trip to the drugstore today. Placing the box on the counter, she leaned forward, examining her face. She’d dodged wrinkles so far, although there were definite laugh lines forming around her brown eyes and full lips. She grinned ruefully.

  Guess there’s nothing wrong with lines formed by laughter.

  Turning around, she looked in the full-length mirror that hung on the back of the door.

  I’d grab a mirror and try out positions to see which ones are the most flattering.

  Cam’s words drifted back to her and she quickly crossed the line from mildly nervous to full-blown anxiety attack. Her hands shook so badly she nearly dropped the Kama Sutra.

  Crap. She’d never be able to take her clothes off in front of Ethan. She’d seen him shirtless, wearing nothing but workout shorts during a few of their PT sessions, and to merely say the man was built was an insult to Mother Nature for blessing women everywhere with the image of his physique, his male perfection. Meanwhile, the fates had clearly been drunk the day they’d made her, putting excesses of everything…everywhere. Wide hips, huge breasts, fat ass. The only places they’d skimped on were her ankles and wrists.

  She shrugged off the T-shirt and pajama shorts she was wearing and studied the profile of her shape.

  Wonder if I can lose twenty pounds by seven o’clock tonight. Maybe she could find ten Kama Sutra positions that required the man to have his eyes closed.

  Time to change the game plan.

  Evasion tactics. Excuses. Outright lies if necessary. What to choose?

  Professionalism. Ethics. Of course, it was so simple. The main reason she hadn’t put Ethan’s name on her list to begin with was because he was her patient. She couldn’t have sex with a patient.

  She rushed to the phone and called him.

  “That didn’t take long,” he said dryly, rather than the customary hello.

  “It would be unethical for me to have sex with a patient.” She was proud of the strength and conviction in her voice. Hippocrates would have been impressed.

  “I’m not your patient anymore,” he answered calmly. “Before I called you this morning, I had my medical records transferred to Dr. Philips. He’ll be doing the rest of my PT.”

  “You did? He will?” She dropped down on the couch, surprise turning her legs to jelly. Damn man had thought of everything.

  “I only have a few more sessions until I satisfy the stupid workman’s comp requirements anyway.”

  “Oh, well…” She wasn’t sure what to say. A part of her was disappointed she wouldn’t be finishing up his sessions. He was her happy dose of eye candy. She’d actually looked forward to going to work on days when he had an appointment. Of course, if he wasn’t her patient, she didn’t have to worry about facing him the morning after what was certain to be a fiasco.

  “Have you made your list?” he asked.

  “No,” she replied.

  “Get started on it. See you at seven.” He hung up without the customary goodbye. She was going to have to talk to him about his lack of phone manners.

  Returning to the bathroom, she picked up the Kama Sutra and studied the pictures again. She immediately found ten positions that pushed all her hot buttons just to look at. Then she pictured herself as the woman, with Ethan as the man.

  Aw hell. She was so screwed.

  * * * * *

  In th
e end, Rachel settled for what she prayed Ethan would consider sexy. She’d pulled the tags off a skimpy little black dress she had hanging in the back of her closet and underneath she’d put on the only bra and panty set she owned. The concept of matching undergarments just seemed bizarre to her, but this set was new and completely impractical from a comfort standpoint. It was also sexy as hell. It pushed her breasts up and the panties were cut low and actually looked kind of hot on her.

  She’d bought the entire outfit on a whim once after she’d seen Voldemort out and about with the blonde bitch, but she’d never had the nerve to wear it out of the house. It showed way too much of her figure, way too many inches of cleavage. There was a fine line between sexy and trashy and she was never quite sure where it was. A fashion expert she was not, despite the fact she never missed an episode of What Not to Wear.

  At seven o’clock on the dot, her doorbell rang. She took a deep breath as she opened the front door—awestruck by the sight of Ethan on her doorstep.

  He was wearing new blue jeans and a dark green button-down shirt. He let out a catcall whistle and grinned. She felt herself blush at his appreciative look.

  Then her gaze drifted down to enjoy every yummy inch of him, her eyes lingering on his muscular arms before taking in the image of his strong legs encased in the tight denim. His light chuckle forced her eyes back to his face.

  “Are you going to invite me in or are we going to do this thing on the front porch?”

  She rolled her eyes at his cocky tone. “I’m not so sure we’re going to do any thing at all.”

  She closed the door as he walked past her, surprised when he turned and slowly pushed her forward, pressing her stomach against the wood and caging her in. She was completely surrounded by his body, his strength, and she shivered with desire when his lips brushed against her ear.