Chasing Mrs. Right

by Katee Robert

  “Prospective client? Last time we talked, I did mention I wasn’t getting a ring. Maybe you should calm down about planning our wedding.”

  Our wedding. The term made her break out in a cold sweat. Only the fact that his mouth was quirked up on one side kept her from trying to escape through the window. “You’re a terrible person.”

  “Not according to everyone who knows me. I have a fantastic reputation.” His smile widened. “And your assistant didn’t tell me about the coffee. You were drinking one last week.”

  “So what makes you think I had one this morning?”

  He raised his eyebrows. “My sister mentioned you have an addiction to the damn things.”

  “You’ve been checking up on me.” Of course he was. She might not know him that well, but even Roxanne recognized that Ian was a man most comfortable when he had a plan. The lack of one was probably part of the reason he’d been so off-balance on the night they met. Not that she’d since gone over every single thing he’d said to her and analyzed it to death.

  “Come to dinner.” The request would have been a lot more convincing if he hadn’t phrased it as a command. His dark eyes drank her in, making her really glad she’d worn a little black dress today. It wasn’t quite fancy enough to go clubbing in, but it suited a day at the office. From his expression, he liked it. A lot. “I promise not to ravish you.”

  “What if I want to be ravished?” The words were out before she could think better of them. Damn it, when would she get a handle on her impulse control? Oh right—never. Her first response when she felt uncomfortable or threatened was to come back with sexual innuendo or jokes. She shifted, trying to relieve the tension coiling through her stomach and lower, but the movement only made it worse.

  Ian, of course, noticed. “Why don’t we play it by ear?”

  “Fantastic plan. If I remember correctly, you have extremely sensitive ears.”

  “That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”

  “Do I?” She hated this, hated how careful he was being with her. Even though she feared it, she wanted to reclaim the easy thing they’d had going the first night. Damn him for listening to her babbling worries before. She hated how she felt so vulnerable all of a sudden. As if he really did have the ability to hurt her. Only one way to take back control of the situation.

  A little voice murmured that this probably was the worst way to feel in control, but Roxanne ignored it. She was tired of being cautious and worried and so freaking alone. So she pushed her chair back and stood, watching him watch her.

  “You want to know a secret?” She came around the desk, trailing her fingers over the polished wood, and took the three steps that brought her chest-to- chest with Ian. “When I’m touching myself, all I have to do is think about your hands on me in the bar, and it’s enough to send me over the edge.”

  “That’s not why I’m here.”

  She wanted to smack him for not playing along. If he wasn’t going to leave her alone, the least he could do was let their interaction remain on her terms. Who was she kidding? Ian wasn’t the type to sit back and let others make his decisions for him. With a sigh, she backed up and propped her ass against her desk. The angle made her dress ride up to seriously indecent heights, and from his harsh inhale, Ian noticed.

  It took him an entire ten seconds to tear his gaze away from the hem of her dress. When he did, she recognized the question in his eyes. Roxanne raised her eyebrows. She wasn’t giving an inch. “Yes?”

  “You wearing the same thing under that dress you wore under the pink skirt?” Which was to say— nothing.

  Her heartbeat quickened at the way his voice had dropped an octave by the end of the question. “And if I am?”

  “Answer the question, Roxanne.”

  She leaned farther back, and the dress rose another half an inch—still not high enough to satisfy his curiosity. “Come find out.”

  If it weren’t for the white-knuckle grip he had on his biceps, she might make the mistake of thinking he couldn’t care one way or another. He did care, though, even if he didn’t freaking move. “You’re playing games.”

  “I only play games I intend on winning.” “And the loser?”

  “If there’s a loser, you’re doing it wrong.”

  “I seem to remember someone saying something similar to me recently.”

  Why hadn’t he moved yet? He just stood there, retaining every bit of control. “She must have been a smart woman.”

  “Yes, she is.” Ian took a step away from the wall. A step closer to her. “She’s also sexy as hell.”

  “Think so?” “Yeah.”

  He was still too far away, and she refused to reach for him, even though she desperately wanted to. Instead, she trailed her hand up her thigh. “I guess if you’re not going to take my invitation, I’ll just have to take care of myself.”

  “That would be a crying shame.” He took another step closer, bringing himself within touching distance. Instead of kissing her—or, hell, touching her—Ian dropped into the chair next to her knee. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you.”

  God, she didn’t want to hear that. Better to keep this strictly about sex. She held her breath as he pressed two fingers to the inside of her right knee. It would have been simple to resist the gentle pressure he exerted. She didn’t. She let him push her until she perched on the desk with a knee on either side of his chair. The position left her completely open— completely vulnerable—and yet she’d never felt more powerful.

  “Christ.” He stroked up the inside of either thigh with his thumbs, before gripping the top of her thighs and yanking her to the very edge of the desk. “Do you ever wear panties?”

  If this was the response going commando got from him, Roxanne would never wear panties again. Except she wasn’t supposed to make this a regular occurrence. God, she should stop this. If she closed her knees, Ian would let her walk away. She was sure of it. But she could admit now, in her heart of hearts, that she was dying to have him touch her again. If she had to submit to a date to get this, then she would. Her reasoning sounded flimsy, even to her. She licked her lips. “Not when I can help it.”

  He traced the dip where her thigh ended, spreading her as if he wanted to see every single part of her. “I approve.”

  Before she could come up with something witty to say—seriously, what could she say?—he dipped down and pressed his mouth to her. She surprised herself by making a high-pitched noise and slapped a hand over her mouth. He lifted his head just long enough to grin at her. “Better keep it down. Don’t want your assistant knowing you’re spread out on your desk with me going down on you, do you?”

  “Um…”

  He licked her again, going slow. Apparently sure he had all the time in the world. She looked down the line of her body, the position offering all too clear a view of what he was doing to her. With his hands maintaining their iron grip on her thighs, she couldn’t do anything but submit to his desire, take whatever he chose to give her. This wasn’t what she intended when she started this seduction. She was supposed to be in charge. “Ian.”

  “If you’re still able to form words, I’m not doing my job right.” Before she had a chance to argue, he pressed a hand against her chest, directly between her breasts. “Down.”

  “But—”

  “Down.” Again, it wasn’t a request. Roxanne obeyed before she had a chance to wonder why the hell she was doing it. He didn’t give her time to change her mind, though. He shoved two fingers inside her, the brutality of the penetration completely at odds with the slow swirling of his tongue on her clit. Even as he fucked her with his fingers, he made love to her with his mouth. Caught between the warring sensations, Roxanne’s existence narrowed down to the pressure building inside her, each touch pushing it higher.

  Her orgasm caught her completely by surprise, bowing her back and drawing cries from her throat until she had to press both hands to her mouth to muffle the sound. And still he kept going,
wringing every last shudder of pleasure from her. It was only when her legs fell open, unable to keep up the tension, that he finally withdrew his fingers and sat back.“Jesus, woman.”

  Roxanne’s laugh was hoarse, and she couldn’t quite make her muscles work like they were supposed to. She managed to sit up, but that was as far as she was getting. “Me? I’m practically an innocent bystander.”

  “Hardly innocent.” He squeezed her knee, even that soft touch making her shiver. Before she had a chance to say anything, he scooped her off the desk and set her in his lap. She went still, ready to shove him away—sex was one thing, but he was cuddling her as if she actually meant something to him. And, damn it, she wanted to melt into him and just let him hold her. When she started to push off him, Ian grabbed her hands. “Just sit still and let me hold you.”

  Once again, she couldn’t ignore the command. If she was being honest with herself, she didn’t want to. This gave her the excuse she needed to let him wrap her up—not that she’d ever admit that out loud. With a sigh, Roxanne laid her head against his shoulder and closed her eyes. This felt good—safe. When he pressed his lips against the top of her head and traced lazy circles on her back with his hand, she could almost believe her mother was wrong, and not every relationship turned to hate.

  She opened her eyes. No, she couldn’t risk thinking like that. If she let her guard down, she was screwed. He had just given her yet another mind-blowing orgasm, but that didn’t mean the truth of her situation had changed. She couldn’t let him get close.

  Or, rather, closer than he already was. “You hungry now?”

  She leaned back and stared. “What?”

  “I didn’t stutter, Rox. Let’s get some grub.” “But…” She motioned at herself and at his

  painfully obvious erection. “We aren’t finished here. You haven’t—”

  “I know.” He helped her to her feet and adjusted his jeans. “But I’m not having sex with you.”

  “What?”

  “You can barely admit that you want me, and every time I’ve seen you since the night I got back into town, you practically jumped down my throat. So, no, we’re not having sex.” He glanced at where her dress was still up around her waist. “Honestly, I hadn’t planned on touching you again until you got your shit figured out.”

  She couldn’t decide if he was being an ass or sweet or something else altogether. “Ian, I—”

  “I repeat—I’m not asking you for a commitment, crazy or otherwise. All I’m asking for is dinner.”

  When he put it like that, it didn’t sound so terrifying. Roxanne pulled her dress back into place. She could do this. It was just one dinner, and he had already proven himself to be a great conversationalist—verbal and otherwise.

  10

  Ian was a goddamned idiot. He’d fully intended on asking Roxanne out. What he hadn’t thought to bring into the equation was the fact that she’d end up on her desk with his face between her legs. Christ, even thinking about it made his dick twitch. His chances of getting through this dinner without an outstanding case of blue balls were decreasing by the second.

  The few days they’d been apart were a bitch. He’d spent more time on a treadmill than was probably a good idea, but he had gotten used to her touch. He’d come to need the feel of her skin against his, and that need got the better of him once lust hijacked his brain. Control sure as hell wasn’t his strong suit when it came to this woman.

  When they reached the parking lot, he motioned to his Chevy. Roxanne raised an eyebrow. “Look at you, with your own wheels just like a real boy.” “Oh, I’m most definitely a real boy.”

  Her gaze dropped to the bulge in his pants that he couldn’t hide no matter how many times he adjusted his jeans. “I’m aware.”

  With the sexual tension thick enough to cut with a knife, he cursed his goddamn twisted self-control. Sure, he could lose it enough to make her come in her office, but not enough to follow through and take care of his needs. Rationally, he knew having sex right now was too soon. The rest of his body wasn’t of the same opinion.

  He opened the door for her, trying not to watch as she slid into the seat. This was going to be a long night. As they turned onto the street, she shifted to face him. “So, now that you have me where you want me…what are you going to do with me?”

  He started to respond in kind, but cut off the words before they left his mouth. In the few interactions they’d had up to this point, she ramped up the sexual tension whenever things got a little too intense on a nonphysical level. She felt out of control, so this was how she tried to take it back.

  Ian knew all about self-defense mechanisms.

  But, though he understood the reasoning behind her switch, he wanted to know if there was something between them—something beyond the ability to give each other off-the-Richter-scale orgasms— which meant they had to actually sit down and have a conversation. He’d felt something at the club and afterward, and he needed to know if he could reclaim the woman Roxanne had been that night instead of this vamped-up version of her.

  “What kind of food are you in the mood for?”

  She sat back. “I don’t know. You’re the one who pushed this. Don’t you have some fantastic plan?”

  Actually, no. She was so impulsive, he hadn’t been sure he’d be able to get her to agree to dinner.And, yes, he’d planned on taking her somewhere nice with low lighting and food that would do most of the seducing for him. Now, with her looking at him with the twinkle in her eye and the slightest tilt of her lips, he wasn’t so sure seduction was the right course of action.

  What would it take to get her to show him that hint of vulnerability again? He was pretty damn sure it wouldn’t happen until he took back control of the situation, and since the woman had mentioned her weakness for good food, this was a decent place to start. “Pick a restaurant, Roxanne.”

  “Sir, yes, sir!” She actually slouched in the seat and crossed her arms over her chest, taking the position of a sulky child. He was tempted to point that out, but caution got the better of him. Instead, he stayed silent, knowing damn well she couldn’t abide by it for long.

  He was right.

  “Okay, fine.” She uncrossed her arms and straightened. “There’s a great little Thai place on Hastings. Hope you like it spicy.”

  Ian turned north and allowed himself a small smile. “I happen to love spicy.”

  “Famous last words.”

  “Actually, no. Those probably won’t be my last words.”

  “Uh-huh. And what do you think those words would be?”

  He shrugged, enjoying the opportunity to actually talk to Roxanne.“Something insane. My mother would claim they’d be something along the lines of ‘Hey Mom, watch this,’ but I’d like to think I’ve outgrown that stage.”

  “That’s up for debate.”

  “You’re mean.” He laughed. “I like you mean.” “Then you’re crazy.”

  “Those who live in glass houses shouldn’t throw rocks.”

  She huffed, but it didn’t quite cover up her laugh. “You have an answer for everything, don’t you?”

  “Nope. I’m not really that charming.”

  This time her laugh escaped, free and clear. “Liar.”

  He tried not to think too much of the fact that she thought him charming. He wasn’t, despite the nickname she’d given him that first night. Occasionally an ass, often a brute, always blunt. Charming? Not his thing. But then, a lot of things he took for solid truths seemed to change around Roxanne. With her, he felt lighter, as if he really were capable of slipping back into civilian reality without years of sitting on some couch with that goddamn therapist or the frustratingly gentle way his family had taken to dealing with him since the homecoming party.With Roxanne, the verbal sparring and laughing while talking about serious subjects felt good. Natural.

  He reached for her hand and laced their fingers together. Immediately the peace of her touch soothed what little tension remained along his shoul
ders. She didn’t blink or give him shit or anything. Just squeezed his hand and grinned. “So, Charming, what have you been doing with your time since you got back? Besides investing in some sexy new wheels.”

  “Truck’s not new. My parents had it in storage while I was gone.” And he really didn’t want to spend too much time thinking about that visit. His dad had been his usual chill self, but just as usual, his mother had gone above and beyond the call of duty. At least she’d stopped short of trotting out the neighborhood’s eligible females, though Ian had no illusions on that fact—she’d do it eventually. His mother apparently felt like a failure because both her children were unmarried. Elle had drawn most of the fire with her choice of fiancé, but that would only last as long as it took to plan the wedding.

  Wedding.

  Ian shuddered. Christ, he couldn’t deal with the fact that his baby sister was getting married. It was more than that, though. Not only was she getting married, but she was getting married to a man who was terrifyingly similar to that other loser she’d dated back in college. He still hadn’t decided how to approach the whole situation. Unlike last time, Elle had really dug in her heels about Gabe. She loved him, but Ian couldn’t let this wedding happen without at least having a sit- down with the groom. He just wasn’t ready to take that step yet.

  He glanced over and realized Roxanne had been staring at him while he’d been mentally circling. “What?”

  “I said it must be nice.” The bitterness in her words was at odds with the subject, though she took up rubbing soothing circles on the back of his hand with her thumb.

  He almost made an offhand comment about her having met his parents but chose not to. Obviously, she had some familial issues in her past—or present. He wasn’t sure, though. Even with all the times Elle had brought up her best friend, she hadn’t mentioned Roxanne’s family once. So chances were, they were gone, though he couldn’t be sure if it was by choice or by death. “It is nice. Sometimes.”