The Sex Test. Patty Salier

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ hand into his large palm, his grip was firm, warm, and she felt a hot electric current slam straight through her body.

      She quickly disengaged her hand from his. Why was Zane Farrell having such a powerful effect on her? No man had grabbed her insides that tight—not even Kent.

      Zane leaned his strong hands on each side of the door frame only inches from her, only inches from caressing her. She felt compelled to leave that instant.

      “I didn’t mean to rush you into this interview,” she told him in an unsteady voice. “We could hold it at a more convenient hour for you.”

      “Absolutely not,” he said with welcoming warmth. “I’m looking forward to this.” He released one hand from the door frame and stepped aside for her entry. “Please, come in.”

      As Rachel slipped by him, her shoulder brushed against his hard-muscled chest. He smelled of soap and musky after-shave. She wouldn’t stay for long. She definitely couldn’t stay for long.

      “Make yourself at home,” he suggested. “The staff’s on vacation, so feel free to roam. I’ll get us something cool to drink.”

      Once alone in the kitchen, he frantically searched Mr. Farrell’s refrigerator for a beverage to serve her. The compartment was empty except for a half carton of low-fat milk. Jeez! He was nervous enough trying to make the right Mr. Farrell impression, but milk?

      He grabbed for the milk container. How the hell was he going to pull off this sex interview? He had no other choice, did he? He was obligated by a commitment he’d made to the real Zane Farrell—a commitment he couldn’t break.

      As he frantically sifted through the unfamiliar kitchen cabinets for glasses, he flashed on Rachel Smith’s inviting brown eyes that had sucked him right in. And her voice rang of honey-sweetness that he found irresistible.

      Man, oh, man, he’d better keep himself in check. It wasn’t going to be easy pretending to be someone else with a beautiful woman like the professor about to ask him probing intimate questions. He didn’t feel one iota comfortable about this sex-test business, especially since he had to act as if it was Mr. Farrell’s sexual preferences she was studying, when it would actually be his own!

      Rachel set her briefcase down on the oval glass coffee table. She tried to breathe normally again. Zane Farrell was not supposed to be charming, friendly and a hunk! How was she going to ask him personal questions about his sex life when she was fantasizing about being an integral part of it?

      She had to get a grip. She was at his mansion purely for academic research. She couldn’t allow her sudden over-whelming attraction to possess her and ruin her first research project for the university.

      Rachel walked to the sliding glass door overlooking a sparkling green kidney-shaped swimming pool. Her attention landed on the inviting Jacuzzi beside it.

      She had a fleeting image of Zane’s strong nude body pressed snugly against her nakedness as they soaked in the warm, foaming, swishing—

      “So, Professor Smith, what do you want to know about my sex life?” Zane’s bass voice sizzled through her like a lit Fourth of July sparkler.

      She whirled to find him staring at her with intensely interested eyes. His hands were holding two glasses of milk.

      “Milk?” she asked, looking at him sideways, suppressing a grin.

      “I need to revitalize my body for your sex test,” he said, almost as if he was slightly embarrassed.

      That little-boy quality captured her. But she couldn’t help being very, very aware of him as a full-grown man. Without thinking, her eyes wandered down his very vitalized muscular frame. Her gaze stopped dead center on his tight jeans that accentuated his generously manly bulge. She quickly diverted her focus to the masterpiece paintings on the wall.

      Why, oh, why, hadn’t she fought harder against participating in this sex research project? It wasn’t for her, oh no, not for her.

      “We don’t have to jump right into the interview,” she quickly told him.

      “From your phone call, I got the idea you want some major erotic details,” he began. “Like the way I—”

      “Before we get into any specifics,” she conveniently cut in, “I’d like to get a solid sense of your male identity.” Her fingers were trembling as she searched through her briefcase for his résumé. “I believe you received your master’s degree from—”

      “Harvard,” he filled in.

      She finally found his résumé and frowned. “But your curriculum vitae lists Yale University.”

      “Right, right,” he said. “I always get those two places mixed up.”

      “Really?” she asked. “I thought a semi-genius like you would hold your university affiliations in high regard.”

      “Nah,” he said. “I tend to file away my past and concentrate on current pertinent data. Like, for instance, your being here with me to examine my sexual need for the female species.”

      “Ahh—why don’t you show me your house?” she suggested, avoiding his twinkling direct gaze. That’s it, she told herself. Keep the conversation safe, neutral, and on more wholesome topics.

      But how long could she delay her sexy questions?

      Zane studied her for a long moment. “Maybe I’m dead wrong,” he began, “but am I making you nervous, Professor Smith? Because if I am—”

      “No, no, I’m fine,” she insisted. “I have no problem with—”

      “Asking what turns me on in bed?” he boldly finished. His eyes were playing with her, teasing her, daring her.

      Why, he was definitely getting pleasure from her uncomfortableness!

      “I knew this would happen,” she blurted out, shoving his résumé back into her briefcase.

      “What?”

      “Men don’t take the university sex study very seriously,” she went on, unable to control herself the way Kim had advised. “One anonymous male wrote on his volunteer form that he made love one hundred times a day, eight days a week. By any chance, was that you?”

      She was not going to let this man with the soaring IQ challenge her ability to competently complete her first interview.

      Zane’s grin came slow and easy. “Sex can make a man say wild things,” he said. “Like when I have sex with a woman, she can make me forget where I am, what day it is, or even who I am. Does sex with a man do that to you, Professor?”

      “Me?” she asked, taken aback. “I—I—” How could she tell him that sensual pleasure was like a fever to her—hot and dangerous. And that it was sex that had destroyed her future marriage to Kent.

      “Hey, it’s okay,” Zane quickly added. “You don’t have to answer.” There was a sudden caring in his voice that she couldn’t help noticing. “How about I give you a tour of the house?”

      “Sure,” СКАЧАТЬ