Wilde for Him (A Wilde Series Novel)

by Janelle Denison

  “Because you make me feel hot and restless, and that isn’t conducive to sleep.” Smiling, she reached up and touched the tips of her fingers to his unshaven cheek, watching as his gaze darkened with awareness. “You feel it, too, don’t you?” she whispered.

  “Feel what?” he replied, his gruff tone giving away his attempt at nonchalance.

  “This attraction between us.” Stepping even closer, she skimmed the pad of her thumb across his full bottom lip, aching to kiss him. “Tell me you feel it, too.”

  Encircling his long fingers around her wrist, he gently drew her hand away from his face and let her arm drop back to her side. “It doesn’t matter if I do, Christine. Nothing’s going to happen beyond being your pretend boyfriend.”

  God, she hated that he’d reverted back to calling her Christine, which was his way of keeping things all business between them, she knew. But now that she’d come this far, she wasn’t about to let him dissuade her from her ultimate goal. In fact, she was all-out determined to crack that steadfast control of his, because what she was beginning to feel for him was as honest and real as it got.

  “You make me realize everything that was missing from my other relationships, not that I’ve had many.” Drawn to the broad expanse of his bare chest, she splayed both hands on all that hard muscle and hot skin and experienced a thrilling jolt of triumph when he sucked in a sharp breath. “But even with the men I’ve dated in my past, I’ve never, ever, felt this kind of intense attraction before.”

  He didn’t remove her hands this time, but neither did he touch her in return. Instead, his fingers curled into tight fists, and the muscles beneath her hand flexed oh-so-enticingly, revealing just how tense he’d become. “Don’t go there, Christine,” he said, his voice a rasp of sound in the shadowed kitchen.

  “Oh, but I do want to go there. Badly.” Letting her lashes fall half-mast, she slid her arms around his neck, stood up on tip-toe, and brushed her mouth across his. “I want to know how real desire feels,” she whispered, teasing the seam of his lips with her tongue. “I want to know what real passion tastes like.”

  The rumbling of a groan vibrated against her mouth, encouraging her to forge ahead while she still had the chance. “Kiss me, Ben.” She nibbled on his bottom lip and gently tugged it between her teeth. “Please.”

  Like a man pushed to the brink, he finally fell over the edge and Christine knew she was about to reap the benefits of all that raw, powerful masculinity he exuded. With a rough growl, he wrapped the fingers of one hand in her hair, encircled his other arm around her waist, and hauled her up against his body as his mouth came down on hers.

  Hot.

  Hard.

  And deliciously demanding.

  There was no sweetness in his kiss, but slow and romantic wasn’t what she’d been after tonight. This all-consuming embrace was exactly what she wanted from Ben, and for the first time in her adult life she discovered that desire felt like the most exciting thrill-ride she’d ever taken. And passion… oh, Lord, passion tasted like searing heat, ravenous hunger, and insatiable lust all rolled into one.

  The hand at the nape of her neck tightened, then he shifted and moved, turning her slightly, backing her up, until her shoulders hit the kitchen wall and he trapped her there with the insistent press of his thighs and hips against hers. The solid length of his erection branded her with a need so primal, she ached to feel every inch of him inside of her.

  With her head now pinned against the flat surface, he slanted his mouth across hers and deepened the kiss further, if that was at all possible. His tongue stroked across hers, and his big, strong hands wandered into more forbidden territory.

  One palm glided down over the curve of her waist and around to her bottom while his other hand skimmed beneath the hem of her camisole. His thumb caressed the skin of her stomach, and she trembled in anticipation. Unrelenting fingers swept upward, until he finally enveloped her breast in his big, calloused hand and squeezed the firm flesh.

  She moaned against his mouth, and arousal, liquid and warm, spiraled its way down to her belly, then between her thighs. He rolled her taut nipple between his fingers and she automatically arched into him as a soft, mewling sound escaped her throat. Everything the man did, every illicit stroke and erotic caress, sent her soaring to a higher level of sensation, until she felt drenched in the most decadent pleasure of her life.

  She wanted to touch him in return… everywhere. Wanted to make him burn with the same intoxicating fever spreading through her. As she smoothed both of her hands down his chest to his abdomen, then teased her fingers along the waistband of his sweat pants, his big body shuddered. Before she had the chance to pull on the drawstring that would give her access to his jutting erection, he abruptly ended the kiss. He jerked back, his breathing ragged.

  Christine was disappointed, but not surprised by Ben’s sudden retreat, especially when she witnessed the self-condemnation gradually filling his gaze. He had absolutely nothing to feel guilty about, not when she’d been the one who’d instigated the kiss, and she opened her mouth to tell him so.

  “Don’t,” he ordered through clenched teeth as he pushed away from her. “Don’t say a damned thing. You got what you wanted, so let’s just leave it at that.” He walked out of the kitchen without looking back, and a moment later she heard his bedroom door slam shut.

  She winced, and had to resist the urge to follow after him and demand that they hash out this attraction between them right then and there. But it was painfully obvious to her that he was in no mood to talk about what had just happened, and she’d be stupid to push the issue when he wasn’t in the right frame of mind to admit that their kiss had rocked his world, as much as it had hers.

  And that was okay with her. Just knowing she’d been able to penetrate a few of Ben’s stringent barriers was more than enough for her. For now.

  Chapter Six

  Ben knew he was in trouble. Big trouble. Four days had passed since he’d given into temptation and kissed Christine, and he knew it was just a matter of time before something else happened. He could feel it in the air whenever Christine was near him. Could sense the subtle changes in her since that night—a sensual self-assurance that kept Ben on edge, waiting and wondering what her next plan of attack would be.

  It didn’t help matters that he was keenly aware of the woman, in every way. She walked by him, and that warm, vanilla scent clinging to her skin sent a shot of arousal straight to his groin. She laughed, and the sound captivated him. She’d always been flirtatious with him, but now when she sent a smile his way, it was filled with a sultry feminine knowledge and womanly confidence that didn’t bode well for him and his good intentions.

  So far, she’d behaved herself, but he suspected that was because of how busy she’d been with work. So far this week she’d spent a good twelve hours a day at the office, mostly preparing for an upscale charity gala for the Children’s AIDs Foundation, which was scheduled for this upcoming Saturday and was being held at The St. Claire Hotel in downtown Chicago. From what she’d told him, Christine had been hired to handle the sponsors and silent auction portion of the social affair.

  Now, as he relaxed on a very comfortable couch in the reception area of Christine’s office where he could keep a close eye on her as she worked, Ben found it hard to believe that he was getting paid five figures to spend most of his days playing Free Cell on his laptop computer to pass the time. But there wasn’t a whole lot to do while Christine and Madison fielded phone calls, accepted various deliveries that arrived for the silent auction, and spent hours discussing the best way to raise the most money for the Children’s AIDs Foundation.

  In all honesty, with nothing productive to do other than ensuring Christine’s safety, he had far too much time on his hands to think about things he had no business dwelling on. Like how great her ass looked in the brown slim skirt she’d worn today, and how incredibly sexy her legs were in yet another pair of designer heels she owned. Then there was that ho
t, mind-blowing kiss they’d shared that kept replaying over and over in his head. Except in his mind, instead of pulling away and ending the carnal embrace, he gave into the untamed need to strip off her clothes, bury himself deep inside her soft body, and forget the long list of reasons why getting involved with her was a very bad idea.

  She’d told him she wanted to feel desire, and taste passion, and that was another thing he mulled over much too often, as well. How could she have been engaged to be married and not have experienced desire or passion? It didn’t seem possible, yet the vulnerable glimpse of emotion he’d seen in her gaze just before she’d kissed him wasn’t something she could have fabricated.

  Shaking his head of those too interesting thoughts, he started another game of Free Cell. A few moments later something out of the corner of his eye caught his attention, and he glanced out the offices’ glass enclosed window front to see a black Towncar with dark tinted windows pulling up in front of The Big Event. As always, whenever someone parked near the business he went straight into security mode—taking in the car description, memorizing the license plate, and making a mental note of whoever exited the vehicle. If they entered the office the scrutiny continued, but on a more personal level to make sure their visit was legitimate.

  The driver, dressed in a uniformed suit, stepped out of the car and opened the back door. Ben groaned as Craig Crosby emerged, looking like the pretentious son-of-a-bitch that he was in his dark blue knit collared shirt, tan trousers, and with his dark, glossy hair combed back away from his face. He said something to his driver then headed toward the shop with a portfolio folder in hand.

  He pushed open the door, and a buzzer rang in the back rooms to let Madison and Christine know that someone had come inside. Looking straight ahead, Craig didn’t notice him sitting on the couch off to the side, giving Ben the advantage. As the other man continued walking further into the office as if he planned on going in search of Christine himself, Ben decided to squash the other man’s presumptuous stride.

  “Hey, Crosby.”

  Craig jolted to a stop, and his head snapped to the left. As soon as he saw Ben, the suave grin he’d been wearing to greet Christine fell flat and animosity etched his features. “What a surprise seeing you here,” he said dryly.

  “I’m sure it is.” Leaning back into the couch cushions, Ben folded his arms behind his head and smiled, liking that he had the upper hand over this guy.

  “Especially at this time of the day,” Craig said, the insinuation of Ben being a bum reflecting in his voice. “Don’t you have a job?”

  Ben shrugged. “I make my own hours. Do you have an appointment to see Christine?” Each morning he went over the day’s agenda with her, and Crosby had not been listed for a meeting today. That’s something he wouldn’t have forgotten.

  Craig visibly bristled with annoyance. “What are you, her receptionist now?”

  “No. Just a very jealous boyfriend.”

  The other man’s gaze flared with a mix of anger and frustration, and Ben had to admit that provoking Craig was the most fun he’d had in days.

  Craig didn’t bother hiding the look of disdain he gave Ben as he took in the casual USMC cotton t-shirt and well-worn jeans he was wearing today. “I don’t understand what she sees in you.”

  “I can’t really say.” Ben mulled that one over as he compared himself to Craig and the biggest difference between them. “Maybe it’s the fact that I’m just a normal, average Joe.”

  Craig smirked. “Well, that novelty will wear off in time, I’m sure.”

  No doubt, Crosby was hoping that was true, but Ben was well aware that even after he was out of Christine’s life, she had no intentions of ever getting involved with Craig.

  Thank God.

  “Craig?” Christine came around the corner, a half-smile on her lips and a curious look in her eyes. “What are you doing here?”

  “Hi, Christy.” Crosby’s smarmy smile reappeared as he turned all his attention on Christine. “We never did get the chance to discuss some of the details for your party on Sunday since you left so abruptly, so I thought I’d stop by and we could go over a few things. Do you have any spare time right now?”

  She glanced at her watch then nodded. “Sure.”

  “Great.” He cast a quick, telling glance at Ben. “Do you mind if we go somewhere a bit more private?”

  “How about the conference room?” she suggested.

  “Perfect,” he said, an unmistakable note of satisfaction in his voice.

  Christine met Ben’s gaze. “I’m sure this won’t take long. I’ll be done in just a while, then we can head over to Starbucks for a drink.” She then smiled at Craig. “Ben knows all the long hours I’ve been working this week, so he dropped in to make sure I took a break today.”

  Ahhh, a good call on Christine’s part to explain his presence.

  She headed to the conference room, and Craig fell into step beside her. When he placed his hand at the small of her back as she preceded him inside the room, Christine stiffened and stepped away from Craig. Ben’s blood boiled in his veins and it took every ounce of control he possessed not to charge in there and break the man’s arm in a couple of different places so he’d keep his hands off Christine in the future.

  Ben shifted restlessly on the couch and swore beneath his breath, unable to believe how this one guy could get to him in such an elemental way. Craig closed the door behind them, but the conference room was glass enclosed, and while Ben wasn’t able to hear their conversation, he was able to watch every move that slimy bastard made.

  He shut down his computer, set it aside, and kept his gaze glued to the conference room and the pair inside. An eternity seemed to pass as he watched the two interact. Craig casually touched her arm as he pointed to something in his portfolio folder, and Ben’s jaw clenched. The other man said something to make Christine smile and laugh, and Ben’s stomach churned with an emotion he refused to exam too closely.

  By the time they came out of the conference room, Ben was feeling more than a little surly.

  Christine walked Craig to the door, said goodbye then strolled back toward Ben with an amused smile curving her lips. She was wearing a button-up beige silk blouse with her brown skirt and killer high-heels, and the expensive material shimmered across her chest as she moved, reminding him of how soft her breast had felt in his hand, how tight and hard her nipple had peaked against his fingers. At the time, he’d ached to pull off her pajama top and take one of those firm mounds of flesh into his mouth so he could taste her.

  She sat down beside him on the couch. “Did I hear you right earlier when you said you’re a jealous boyfriend?” She looked immensely pleased at the notion.

  So, she’d overheard part of his exchange with Craig. “A jealous pretend boyfriend,” he corrected her. “I’m just acting the part for your benefit.”

  She tipped her head, causing the ends of her hair to brush across her shoulder like expensive skeins of blonde silk. “Are you sure about that?”

  No way was he going to admit that his jealousy was real, and judging by her sweet, knowing smile, he didn’t have to. The woman read him way too easily, and it was an unnerving feeling to realize she could get into his head that way.

  “Even knowing you have a boyfriend, the man can’t keep his hands off you,” he said bluntly.

  “I don’t encourage it, as you’ve seen,” she said, absently smoothing a hand down the front of her skirt.

  “I don’t like him.”

  She laughed lightly. “So you’ve said before. Not that you’re jealous or anything.” She made a face at him.

  He held back a grin, because she just looked so damned cute and irresistible. “My dislike of Craig is all based on my professional assessment of the guy,” he said gruffly.

  With a sudden look of concern, she reached out and placed a hand on his forehead.

  “What are you doing?” he asked.

  “You’re a little warm,” she said, appearing compl
etely serious. “I think you’re experiencing office fever from being cooped up in here for so many days. And you seem to have all the symptoms of office fever, too.”

  He frowned in confusion. “And what would those be?”

  A playful smile flirted with the corners of her mouth. “You’re grouchy and irritable, which are the two most common ailments of office fever.”

  “Oh, you’re funny,” he replied.

  “Luckily, I know just what you need. A change of scenery and some fresh air does wonders to alleviate office fever.” She stood back up. “Give me a another hour to wrap up a few things and make sure Madison has everything under control, then you and I can leave the office early this afternoon.”

  “To do what?”

  “I have some errands to run, and then I was thinking you and I could grab a bite to eat afterward. I’ve had a craving for pizza lately. How does that sound?”

  He grinned. His day had just taken a turn for the better. “Are you kidding me? Pizza and beer is my idea of a gourmet meal.”

  “You’re very easy to please.” She touched her fingertips to his jaw, and the light-hearted moment between them shifted and changed, as did the nuance of her comment.

  He pulled back so that her fingers fell away, but the slight distance between them did nothing to dissipate the sensual awareness she’d kindled between them with just a simple caress.

  And considering the desire warming her gaze as she stared at him, she knew exactly what she’d done, too.

  As she walked away, he groaned beneath his breath. Oh, yeah, he was definitely in deep trouble when it came to Christine.

  Christine opened her day planner and scratched off another item on her “to do” list for the afternoon. “Only one more errand to go and we’re done for the day,” she said, and glanced over at Ben who was driving her around the city in his truck.

  Over the past few stops they’d made, she’d noticed a gradual change in Ben whenever they came back to his vehicle and started for their next destination. He’d grown quiet and pensive, his gaze continually checking his rear view mirror as he navigated the streets of downtown Chicago.