Irrational Arousal

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An Excerpt
From: IRRATIONAL AROUSAL

Copyright
© SUMMER DEVON, 2009

All Rights
Reserved, Ellora's Cave Publishing, Inc.

The dark-haired woman waved to catch Will's attention,
as if he could have missed her. When he stopped in front of her, she
blurted out, "I know you said no to talking, but I wonder if I can change
your mind? It's just that a few minutes ago..." She bit her lip as if trying
to bite back the words she'd just said. "Is it okay? We can go somewhere
else if you don't want to come up to my apartment."

"You started to say something about a few minutes ago.
You had another episode?" he asked. Nausea gripped him. A few minutes ago
he'd been aroused by the sight of the woman he'd thought was her.

Her frown deepened and she nodded. "Not as strong. But
still, can we talk?"

She was as scared as he was, or at least as baffled. She
wasn't really the cause, he told himself, but a fellow sufferer. Anyway,
running away wasn't going to work.

Will turned to Greg who watched from a few feet away,
jingling his truck keys. "I'll get home on my own," he told his extremely
interested brother-in-law. "I'll grab a cab or something."

Greg waved to the woman and called out. "Hey, listen, no
need to look so worried. I can vouch for Will here. He's a good guy."

She sighed and rubbed her upper arms where goose bumps
covered her olive skin. "Even if you aren't okay, you can't be any worse
than going nuts," she said quietly so only Will could hear.

Amen, Will
thought. She was right.

"Ten minutes," he said. "I'll ring your bell. I remember
the number."

He watched her go into the building, unsure why he'd put
off the talk. Because he wanted to marshal his theories before he visited
the dark-haired woman whose name he didn't know.

When he rang the bell on 2H "G Harmon", she trotted down
the stairs to open the door almost at once. "Opening buzzer's broken," she
said. "Come on up."

Following her up the stairs, he tried not to stare but
realized he had to agree with Pettigrew about one thing--the idiot was right
about her rear end. Damn. Her cheeks were round and perfect as the skirt
molded their shape. He could imagine how she felt under his hands. The
black skirt was tight and her long legs were bare.

Her step faltered and she looked over her shoulder at
him, eyes wide.

"So you're G Harmon," he said, desperate for a topic of
conversation that wasn't about going nuts or sex.

"Gia." She opened the door to her apartment.

To stop staring at Gia or thinking about her, Will
concentrated on the apartment. The room was filled with late afternoon sun.
Far nicer interior than the dull red brick exterior advertized. He thumped
his hat against his leg and looked around. Nice molding. Great proportions
to the large living area-kitchen, and the counter separating them was in
exactly the right spot. A short corridor went off to the left and he saw a
couple of doors.

She walked into the kitchen and picked up a glass jar of
coffee beans. "Want some?"

He didn't. He wanted to figure this out and leave but he
found himself saying, "Sure. Thanks."

"Take a seat."

He sat on the floor. Her laughter was deep and throaty
and gorgeous. "You can sit on a chair."

"I'm filthy." He held up his hands to show the grime
under his nails. "Floor's fine."

"Want to wash up?" she asked.

He let her point him to the bathroom, but his hands didn't
look much better when he was done scrubbing at them.

She finished grinding the coffee beans as he returned to
the kitchen. "Are you hungry?"

"No." Will didn't mean to sound rude, but enough with
the hostess thing. He wanted her to start talking. He couldn't because if
he described his problem, to see if it was anything like hers... Well. Huh.
If he was wrong, she might call the police.

Then again, maybe she did the hostess thing to calm
herself down. He leaned his back against her fridge, inhaled the scent of
fresh-ground coffee and forced himself to calm down and wait patiently. It
wasn't like he had anywhere to go tonight.

He thought of a couple of neutral questions. "So when
did your problem start?"

She poured water into the coffeemaker. "Yesterday. Sort
of off and on. I guess the worst was at about ten o'clock last night. For
you?"

"Yesterday I had something like a, um, a seizure at
work."

"You mean out there." She nodded in the direction of the
pit.

"Yeah. That was about four yesterday afternoon maybe? Much
earlier than you. So whatever it is, the problem's not happening to us at
the same time." He sighed. So much for that theory. "Why'd you think you
knew me?"

She reached up into a cupboard for cups. The way her
back curved and her breasts lifted... No. He had to stop those thoughts. He
cut his gaze from her to the white-and-green floor tile.

"I didn't know you." She spoke hesitantly and he
wondered why she seemed embarrassed. Of course they didn't know each other.
Yet he knew he'd seen her face, imagined it, when the desire hit. And the
memory created another wave of confused desire.

The dream woman in the flesh walked toward him. No, to
the fridge.

"'Scuse me." He scooted away. While she rummaged around
in the fridge, he couldn't see her and it was easier to talk. He dove right
in. "What happened to me yesterday was something, um, like sex. I don't
mean sex," he added quickly. "And I'm not trying to come on to you or
anything. I mean. I'm talking about what I went through."

Damn, that wasn't particularly articulate. But maybe it
was enough, because she closed the door to the fridge. Empty-handed. She
slid down onto the floor near him. "Go on," she said. "What do you mean?"

"That's all of it." Now that she was close to him,
sitting on the floor, he felt less ready to talk. "The weird sensation was
related to sex."

Arms around her bent legs, she pressed her forehead to
her knees. "Yeah," she said at last. "Yeah, mine too."

The coffee gurgled. Neither of them spoke for a full
minute.

"Out of nowhere?" she said softly.

"Yeah. Absolutely. Boom."

"Me too."

He wanted to ask again, why did you know me out front, but then it occurred to him, she
hadn't seemed to recognize his face. Why not? He knew hers.

But she startled him with a groan. "You okay?" he asked.

"I just remembered. Four o'clock, yesterday," she
whispered. "I was in the shower."

He waited but she didn't say anything more. She only
sat, hunched over. He suddenly understood. "That mean you were doing more
than just getting clean?"

"Kind of. I mean, I was in the shower but um, yeah, it's
a euphemism."

Her blush and stumbling speech confirmed what she'd been
doing but he was too interested in the fact to be embarrassed. "Me too. At
ten, I mean," he said.

She straightened up and looked at him, her eyes wide. "How
horrible. I mean how amazingly horrible."

He scratched his head. "So let me get this straight.
Okay? Just to say it out loud."

"Do we have to?"

He ignored her. "At four o'clock yesterday, you took a
shower and um, messed around until you reached orgasm. Holy shit," he
suddenly said. "Were you alone?" He tried to remember if Pettigrew had
vanished from the work site.

She muttered something.

"What?"

"I said, yes. I was alone."

"Alone." He tried to see her face but she'd turned away.
"Can I ask you something really personal?" he asked.

"Can anything get more personal than this?"

"Yeah. But don't toss me out, because I'm not trying to
give you shit or pry more than I have to, okay? There's something real and
weird and--"

"And I know. Really weird." She glanced at him. "Go on,
ask it. I promise I'm not going to ask you to leave."

"When you were, ah, taking a shower, did you think about
a guy named Pettigrew?"

"Who?"

"He one of the guys working out there." He jerked a
thumb at the street corner. "About as tall as me, dark hair, muscle-bound,
couple of tats. Stands around the work site a lot."

She groaned and looked down at her hands clutching each
other below her knees. Her knuckles were white.

"I'll take that as a yes. By the way, he's an asshole,
so don't take it to the next level, okay?"

"How can you joke about this? Oh God. This is just too
much. Wait a sec. You--" She closed her eyes and rested her forehead on her
knees again. "At ten p.m. Your shower. You didn't think about much. Did
you? No wait, there was someone with red hair and big breasts."

"Jesus." He rocketed to his feet.

She stood too. "Feels more real when it's your own
thoughts invaded, doesn't it."

"It couldn't feel less real."

Gia brushed past him--the air as they nearly touched
hummed with attraction--and went to the coffee pot. With unsteady hands, she
poured out two cups. "I decided you were right earlier. I'd just act like
everything was normal and it would go away."

He took the coffee from her and breathed in the scent. "Normal,"
he murmured. "Right. Normal. Like this is coffee. It's hot. It's good."

"Want cream?"

He shook his head. "This isn't turning into anything. It's
just coffee. The only weird shit is the stuff that seems connected to you."

"And it seems connected to um, desire." She glanced at
his hands for a second and he knew she was remembering them. She'd wanted
him.

The thought of her reaching climax while thinking of him
was far too electrifying and he took another deep breath. Something between
them changed and twisted at that moment. The connection went even deeper.
Like a fish struggling to get off the hook, he'd sunk the damn thing in
even deeper.

She opened the fridge again, took out half and half,
poured some into her cup. She moved slowly but he could see her hands
trembled even more. He wished he could take her slender fingers and squeeze
them reassuringly, but bad idea probably. He didn't think they should
touch.

She put away the cream, and still moving deliberately,
picked up her cup. "Okay, I remember another incident. This morning, I woke
up really early. That's strange enough because since I lost my job I tend
to sleep in. And when I woke up, it was like I wasn't alone," she began.
Her hand went to the base of her throat where she played with a small green
stone on a gold chain. He tried not to stare.

"Yeah. Sounds familiar. Go on," he said.

"But it wasn't anything but touch. No visions or
anything."

He cleared his throat. "Well. Actually. I sort of
pictured you."

"Me? But you hadn't seen me. Maybe you did out there?"
Her dark brows knit and when she looked at him, he saw fear again.

"Hell. Maybe. I don't know. I can't tell what's real and
what's just crazy. All I know is I don't control it. Okay? I'm not some
kind of psychic stalker."

She squinted into her cup. Looking down, around--anywhere
but at him. He wished she would look up. He liked her liquid eyes and hell,
she was the only person who knew what he was going through. "About this
morning, here's what I think," she said, slowly, thoughtfully. Good, she
wasn't afraid of him. "As soon as you realized what was going on, that it
was the weird hallucination thing, you woke all the way up and stopped. You
lost any interest in sex." She gave a tiny smile or perhaps a smirk--a first
for her. "Even though you were pretty aroused."

He sat back down on the floor and sipped the strong
black coffee. She bought the good quality stuff. "Sure. Nothing like
thinking you're losing your mind to stop that loving feeling," he said. "And
I guess same thing happened to you about the same time."

"I guess," she agreed.

"And then about a half hour ago."

"That time didn't go very far," she finished. "I don't
know how it started though."

He took a swallow of coffee and didn't volunteer any
information about the woman who'd looked like her.

Will looked up into her face, trying to see if he saw
anything supernatural. Only an attractive woman with rippling dark hair.
Good even from this angle. Not even his type, or at least not what he'd
thought of as the sort of woman he liked. Though her legs. The strong curve
of her calf. He forced himself not to look at her leg though she stood only
a few feet away and her skin was bare. Because God only knew what would
happen if he admitted his attraction to her or acted on it.

"Why us?" he said. His voice was husky.

"Heck, if we knew that we'd have an answer to the whole
thing." She sank onto the floor near him again, carefully holding her
coffee out in front of herself.

She placed the cup on the floor and swiveled to face
him. "Put out your hand."

He raised his bare arm, tanned and dusty from work. She
examined his wrist and palm a moment then very slowly ran her fingertips
over his forearm, barely grazing his skin. He wanted to grab her hand, pull
her close.

She pulled away her hand and looked up. "That was just a
touch. Right? I mean. It didn't set off anything?"

He swallowed. "Nothing more than usual."

"Usual?"

"You're pretty. It's been a while." He shrugged. "It's
not like I'm going to jump you, but yeah, I felt something." The goddamn
hook jamming harder. He wouldn't writhe on the line and make it worse.

She closed her eyes. "Me too. But more intense maybe?"
Her lips formed a smile. She had a small dimple just off the side of her
full mouth. "Hard to say. I haven't touched a man for a while."

Holy shit, her small touch and careless words about
touching a man, even the sight of that dimple, woke up all sorts of
interested parts of his body. He pressed the small of his back against the
fridge again. "I'm not so sure we should be experimenting with this. I mean,
without professional help."

She picked up her cup and drank. "Probably you're right.
What kind of expert do you suppose we should consult?"

"Shrink? Psychic? Exorcist?"

"All of them," she said. "I guess it could be worse. I
mean. You seem like a pretty normal guy."

"Usually I might find that insulting but today normal is
my favorite word."

"I mean you're not a sex fiend, right?"

"Maybe I am," he breathed without thinking.

She chewed her lip and stared back. But she didn't seem
afraid.

He forced himself to glance back at the badly laid green
tile to break the tightening tension. "So. Anything else?" he said. "I mean
do we share other sensations? Have you fallen down or gotten drunk or done
anything painful to yourself in the last day?"

She smoothed her skirt over her thigh as she thought. He
wished she'd stop touching herself. After a minute, she said, "Well, I did
jam my finger on my bathroom door."

"I didn't feel that."

"So it's just the sex." She fiddled with the edge of her
skirt, running a thumb over the cloth. "I thought of another experiment. One
where we don't touch each other but it'll confirm this strange stuff."

"What do you mean?"

"Well. Um." She reddened again. "I'll stay out here. And
you could take a shower."

He understood at once. Hell no, he wasn't about to jack
off in a stranger's bathroom. "Here? This is your house. You take the
shower."

She suddenly began to snicker. "Okay, now I'm finally
seeing the humor of the situation."

"Yeah?"

"I mean I've never met you. I'm not really that into,
you know. Sex and stuff. But for some reason we have shared some intimate
moments."

"Not on purpose. I promise you."

"Yeah." She nodded, still grinning. "But it's just
funny. You know? What a completely strange and silly thing."

He liked her laugh and smiled. "I guess you're right. Yeah.
Before we call some doctor, we ought to make sure it's still happening."

"God, I hope they can do something." She giggled. "I can
just see me at a job interview, talking about my previous work experience
and then, suddenly, I'm all breathless and uhhhh." Her imitation of a woman surprised on the peak of
excitement was arousing and funny at the same time.

"Yeah, well try operating heavy machinery under the
influence," he said.

That did it.

The two of them began to laugh. They were soon snorting
and wheezing and stretched out on her kitchen floor. They laughed until
they ran out of air and then began again.

"Knobs," she managed to gasp as she pushed herself up
again. "I just remembered something. Last night I dreamed of sitting out in
that workplace of yours and I was touching knobs. Red and green." She
rested her hand on her flat belly. "Phew."

He palmed the tears of laughter from his eyes and
sniffed. "Hey, I think you dreamed of operating a backhoe."

"Well, so it is more than sex after all between us."

"Maybe. But that was what I was seeing at four p.m.
yesterday when you were in your shower."

"Maybe." She gave another final snort of laughter. Silence
fell on them again, but less tense or frightened.

"Okay." He jumped up--fast, because he desperately needed
to touch her. "I'm going to go into your bathroom. I won't take a shower
though God knows I need one."

"You might as well. I have some sweats and a tee shirt
that would fit you," she said.

"Your boyfriend's?" Why hadn't it occurred to him that
she had a boyfriend? She'd said that thing about not touching a guy for a
while.

She walked into the hall. "Ex-boyfriend. He was a little
shorter and thinner than you but I think they'll fit."

He followed her, curious about her bedroom--just the room,
not the bed, he told himself--but she disappointed him by taking the clothes
from a small closet in the hall. She handed him the clothes and a tattered
but clean towel.

He looked down at the worn tee shirt and sweat pants. "Why'd
you keep his stuff?"

She touched the neatly folded sweats. "I've missed him."

The pain in her words was obvious and he wished he hadn't
asked. "Well, okay. I might as well take a shower. Thanks. Maybe I'll just
get clean and nothing else."

"That's fine," she said.

"But I won't say what I'm doing. You'll have to figure
it out."

She grinned. "If it's like the shower you took last
night at ten, I will notice."

He clutched the clean clothes and towel. The tight, hot
sensation was a sort of aroused embarrassment, as if she'd looked at him
naked.

He approved of the bathroom. Simple black-and-white
tile, good plumbing fixtures. Must be a condo and not a rental unit. She
was out of a job--could she afford this nice place?

The nail polish colors on the shelf over the sink
provided the only splashes of color. He could imagine the bright red on the
tips on her slender fingers.

He stripped off his clothes quickly, dropping them in a
pile. The scent of something light and flowery hit him as he stepped under
the hot water. Yeah, he was going to smell real sweet, he thought to distract
himself from any kind of provocative thoughts. He'd be damned if he'd come
in this woman's shower. Strange enough he stood in this bathroom, naked,
and about to take the shower.

As soon as he stepped into the shower, he began to scrub
at his skin, hard, and then dumped a slug of shampoo on his palm. Something
green. More flowers, subtle and sensual. So he moved faster, scrubbing
hard. And turning the water colder. The water sprayed hard on his face,
making him gasp. As he turned, the sensation hit him. Rising temperature
within his body.

Weak-kneed and groaning, he froze. And he was fighting
off pleasure churning through his body, twisting to his fingertips and
toes.

"What the hell are you doing?" he roared.

 

Gia had imagined him naked in her bathroom, letting the
water run over him. She saw the man's body from last night. That had to be
him. Muscles and planes and need, oh my. Her insides twisted tight and she
drew the flat of her hand over her hardening nipple. And slid her fingers
of her other hand under the elastic waistband of her skirt, to touch
herself through the plain cotton panties. A tiny circle against the dry
cloth. Another circle and the cloth wasn't as dry.

An experiment, she told herself, and closed her eyes.
Uptight Gia was playing around with some interesting new stuff and she wasn't
sure she wanted to stop.

And then he shouted.

She couldn't hear what he said but it sounded urgent.
She guiltily yanked her hands from her body. After a moment's hesitation,
she went down the hall and opened the door to the bathroom and stood, her
hair rumpled and her mouth slightly open. "You okay?"

"What were you doing out there? I know it was something."
He sounded angry.

No point in denying it. "I didn't do very much. Maybe
when we're not far away from each other it doesn't take a lot." She blinked
in the steam. "Oh. You're not wearing anything."

Nothing but a massive hard-on.

He turned off the shower and they stood in silence
interrupted only the drip of water from the shower curtain and his body.

"Touch yourself," she whispered. Gia, who'd only ever
made love to two men and always in the dark, who didn't particularly crave
adventure, Plain Vanilla Gia was demanding that a stranger masturbate in
front of her. Interesting, part
of her brain thought. The rest of her screamed need. She wanted to touch him. Her fingers tightened into
fists.

He grabbed a towel and held it in front of himself. She
wished he wouldn't. He scowled and looked away. "No. We've proved there's
something going on and that's all we needed to do."

"It won't kill you or me." She took a couple of steps
closer. The bathroom was small so she was close enough to smell his skin,
heated by the shower, see his chest rise and fall. Her eyes shifted up to
meet his gaze. "Touch yourself or I'll touch you."

He groaned and didn't point out that her threat was
stupid, that he outweighed her by about fifty pounds and no way she could
force him to do anything. Instead he asked, "Why?"

"Why not?" She drew two fingers over her mouth,
wondering how her lips would feel under his. Yeah, she wanted to kiss him,
a lot. "I have never felt so free. We've assumed this is bad because we don't
understand it. But I think I like it. I want more. I need it."

He looked away from her, stared at the toilet. "We don't
know each other."

"True."

"I don't fuck people I don't know."

He clearly wanted to offend her, drive her off. But it
didn't work. "Neither do I. So we don't fuck."

He moved the towel and she hoped it meant something. No.
He was only using it wipe the water from his skin and hair. He turned his
back so she didn't see the huge hard-on. His butt was pretty damned good
though.

"I want you, sure." He sounded as if he hated to admit
it. "But I don't see why you're pushing this."

She walked over to the toilet, closed the lid and sat. "I
have had a couple of relationships in my life that involved sex. Two men I've
slept with." Gia was distracted by Will's muscular back as he toweled off,
his broad shoulders with a lighter tan than his arms, the indented line of
his spine that ended in the pale firm flesh of his butt. She hadn't seen
him from the rear in the visions but she remembered those arms. Distracted,
yes, but the sight of his body gave her courage to go on. "Anyway, I've
been with men and I didn't see what the big deal was about. I mean, I cared
about my boyfriends a lot, so I liked sex okay. But what I, erm, do on my
own..."

He glanced over his shoulder at her. "When you take a
shower."

She nodded. "Yeah. When I do that, it feels better, it's
more, um, ecstatic, which is really pathetic, I guess. But you. Just
looking at you gives me more...I don't know...a bigger thrill than touching
anyone else. Shakes me up more than I can do on my own too." She lifted her
hand and chewed on the edge of her thumb. "Must be some kind of biological
thing."

He shook his head like a dog then stepped out of the
tub. Oh, very nice. He gave up trying to cover that lovely erection.

She sighed. The memory of his body would have to be good
enough. She crossed her legs and ordered her body to stop swelling and
clenching. It ignored her. "I really, really want you, but I'm not thinking
straight. You're right. I better stop."

The water dripped. They watched each other.

"Am I right?" he asked huskily. "Damn."

She swallowed. Apparently she'd won the argument and
hadn't even noticed. "Insanity," she repeated, because her brain couldn't
hold actual thought.

"How about shared madness. Spread the blame." The corner
of his mouth crooked. "So you think we should just stand near each other
and not touch."

She rose and stood in front him. Not too close. "No, I've
changed my mind."

He sucked in a breath and moved away. "Oh."

She followed him. "I think we should touch." Gia let her
hands fall to her sides. "You first."

He watched her face as he lifted his hand and his forefinger
traced the edge of her pink knit cotton shirt. Then he touched the line of
her lips. Such light touches. She waited to explode or lapse into even more
mindless desire. Only the sweet, light grazing of skin on skin. Perhaps she
felt more aware of her own body and the tiny scrape of his calloused
forefinger. But certainly nothing more magic than she'd already
experienced. Good, because that was freaky enough.

He used two fingers now. Gliding down her cheek, her
jaw, her throat. Pausing at the hollow of her throat, pressing, and she
understood he checked her pulse. His own breath came faster. When he moved
toward her, closing the inches, she felt his heat and then the shape of his
cock against the lower part of her belly, and then his whole naked front
pressed to her clothed body. Need grew with every beat of her heart.

His fingers cradled her cheeks now. His hands nearly
enveloped her face. She hadn't noticed that he was so large, but she only
came up to his nose and she was not a shrimp. She rubbed her face on his
hot, damp shoulder and let herself taste him with a tentative lick.

The delicate exploration ended the instant her tongue
lapped his collarbone. He groaned, bent his legs and tilted her face up.
The first contact with their lips remained hesitant only for a second, then
the storm began. From a gentle brush of lips to open-mouthed needy kisses
so fast.

Nothing in her life could have prepared her for the
onslaught of this desire. Urgent need washed through her, filled her, left
her mewling and helpless.

So few touches, but she knew already they had to take
this all the way. She wouldn't survive without him inside her.

"Medicine cabinet," she whispered. Thank God she hadn't
purged her life of anything that reminded her of Mike. He'd left several condoms
behind.