Hard to Trust (Hard to Love Book 2)

by L. M. Reid

  I make my way through the office, trying to get a quick lay of the land. Conference rooms, cubicles, offices – including one with a light on. Even though I shouldn’t be here right now, as I promised Brayden I wouldn’t be, I can’t help but be intrigued by who would be working at this hour. It’s well after midnight and even the most dedicated of attorney’s has long since gone home. Slowly, quietly, I make my way over to the light.

  The name on the outside of the door says Ashlynn Robbins. A smile creeps onto my face. I should have known. If this woman really is my competition for the spot, she would be the type of woman who would work well into the night. She’s also probably the type of woman who doesn’t have any better prospects for her time.

  Cautiously, I peer into the office, careful to not disturb her. What I see standing before me is anything but a woman without prospects. No, the woman I’m staring at is fucking stunning. Beauty personified. The sight of her alone has all of me standing at attention. Ashlynn Robbins – my competition and now, based on how my body is reacting, my prey.

  8

  Ashlynn

  It’s well after midnight. I’m exhausted and the bottle of whiskey I snuck in is getting seemingly low. This case is driving me insane. Don’t get me wrong, I love my job. I worked damn hard to get where I am. And now, I’m working even harder to get to where I need to be – partner. That means I have spent countless hours in my office buried under law journals.

  I’m exhausted – and horny. When I am stressed, there is only one thing that settles my nerves. Sex. I pick up the phone and toy with the idea of texting Elliott. I hate that I’m desperate enough to entertain the idea of sleeping with him, but desperate times call for desperate measures. And thanks to Elliott’s rules, I don’t have much of a choice. I’m starting to think this was his plan all along. He wouldn’t force me into anything, but rather make it so I came willingly.

  Considering my past, one would assume that sex wouldn’t be so high on my priority list – having it forced upon me and used against me. Still, it’s something I crave. Something I need. It’s the only way I know how to connect with someone, to be with someone. Everyone needs someone now and again. Even me. I sip the last of the whiskey that’s in my glass and savor the taste, but it does nothing to abate my desire and the humming between my thighs.

  “Excuse me,” a voice says from the doorway.

  My head snaps to attention at the deep voice that flows into my office. I look up and see a tall man with black hair standing in my doorway. He’s wearing a black suit; tie loose around his neck, the perfect five o’clock shadow despite it being the middle of the night. He screams sex appeal and my body is definitely responding. I’m not one to believe in miracles but I can’t help but to in this case. It’s as though someone answered my prayers and dropped a walking, talking sex god on my doorstep.

  “Can I help you?” I ask ensuring that my voice sounds sultry.

  I eye the man. He looks oddly familiar, but I can’t place why.

  “Grayson West,” he says as he steps into my office. The man has a presence about him. One that I wish would take me and bend me over my desk.

  “Nice to meet you Grayson West,” I reply. “Are you new here? Or are you just a psychotic killer roaming the building looking for his prey?”

  “Both?” he teases, a wicked smile on his face.

  “Ah, you must be my newest client, then?”

  “Something like that,” he says his smile still plastered on his face. “So, Ashlynn, what are you doing here so late?”

  I’m a bit taken aback by him using my name. I shouldn’t be, there’s a large enough placard on the outside of the door that it’s etched on. Still, there’s something in his tone. He speaks to me as if he knows me and it unnerves me. As does the intensity in which he stares at me.

  “Do I know you?” I ask. I’ve dated my fair share of men. It wouldn’t be a stretch to think that I had forgotten one, or several.

  “Not yet, but I’m hoping that changes,” he says.

  He takes another step toward me. Rather than being intimidated, the motion turns me on. My body tingles with anticipation. He’s tall, dark, and clearly in charge.

  I hold my hand up to stop him. “Before you take another step, I need to know who exactly you are,” I tell him.

  He places his access pass on the desk. Grayson West – Staff Attorney. His handsome face matches the picture on the pass.

  Okay, well at least I know he works here. Brayden is in charge of processing our badges and there is no way in hell one of these is getting out without his permission. Reminding myself of that eases my tension slightly.

  “May I proceed?” he asks with a smirk.

  I nod, unsure of what game he’s playing, but liking it nonetheless. He stands close to me – too close. Yet, I can’t help but want to ask him to come closer.

  “What’s your game?” I ask him.

  He slides his suit jacket off and tosses it onto my chair, a smirk gracing his handsome face.

  “Same as yours,” he replies. He steps into me, his hard body pressed against mine. His hand comes up to my face, softly caressing it. “Tell me what you want, Ashlynn.”

  I should tell him I don’t want anything. Or, that I want him to leave. Because as much as I want sex right now, that would only complicate the current predicament I am in with Elliott. No other men, he told me. Easier said than done, but still a rule I have to follow. Even more reason to follow it considering the prospective man is another employee; one that I don’t know and that could very well open his mouth about us when that is the last thing I need.

  Typically, I’m the one in control, but with this man I feel myself losing it the closer he gets. Worse, I don’t mind. Not when it comes to him. He tilts my chin up, forcing me to look him in the eyes. When I do I see desire, heat, and an emptiness that I want so desperately to fill that it makes me come undone. I can’t stop the word that falls from my lips, no matter how wrong I know it is. “You.” It comes out as nothing more than a whisper.

  “Good answer, Sweetheart,” he says just before his lips come crashing down on mine.

  All thoughts of how wrong this is go straight out of my head the minute he kisses me. Instantly my hands drop to his waist, tugging at the buckle that is hindering me from getting what I want. His hands grab at the gap in my shirt, his fingers slipping inside and pulling with force the buttons spraying across the office. He pulls out of our kiss, a look of appreciation on his face as his tongue darts out and wets his bottom lip.

  He must see the hesitation in my eyes because his grip loosens, his eyes soften, and something tells me that if I tell him to back off, he will.

  “This stays between us,” I demand.

  “I don’t kiss and tell,” he advises me, the hint of a smirk on his face.

  Somehow, for unknown reasons, I believe him. And the minute his words settle over me, my lips are on his, searching and pleading for the release I so desperately need.

  “Turn around,” he tells me. I begin to protest, used to being the one in charge, but he cuts me off. “I said, turn around.”

  Demanding. Controlling. Sexy as hell.

  I do what he says when normally I would scoff at the idea. The feeling of his hands running up my thighs, under my skirt filling me with sensations I’ve never felt before has me quickly forgetting my need to control and instead losing myself in the pleasure his touch is giving me. Skirt around my waist, my ass on full display to him thanks to the red thong I am wearing. His hand comes in contact with my right cheek and a stinging sensation soars through me as I cry out. He loops a finger through the band of my thong, then one on the other side, slowly sliding it down. Lifting my right leg as he helps me step out of them.

  “Hands on the desk,” he says. I hear the sound of his zipper, anticipation coursing through my veins, I obey.

  Fingers run along my center, the slickness coating them.

  “You. Are. Incredible,” he says.

  One ha
nd on my hip, the other lines his cock up at my entrance. The feel of him there, unsheathed against my slickness is like heaven. I should be stopping him, telling him to use a condom, but I don’t. I want him too badly, my body craving the feeling of him inside me. When he pushes into me, slow and deep, I cry out with pleasure.

  He stills, bottomed out in me. Reaching a hand around me, he frees my breasts from the cups of my bra. His mouth hovers close to my ear. “Tell me what you want, Sweetheart. Fast, slow, soft, hard. Your wish is my command.”

  The feel of him inside me, the way he’s kneading my breast, my nipple between his fingers, I’m damn near on the verge of orgasm already.

  “Tell me,” he orders, his voice low and deep. The strangled sound of desperation evident.

  “S-slow,” I pant out. It’s been so long since I’ve felt like this that I want to savor every goddamn moment.

  He does as I ask, slow thrusts inside me. Fuck me, he is amazing. I can feel myself on the brink, ready to orgasm the moment he pushes deeper in. He doesn’t though. He pulls fully out of me.

  “No, please,” I beg.

  I turn my head to look at him, a satisfied grin on his face. “Keep begging, Sweetheart.”

  “What?”

  What the fuck kind of game is he playing? And why the hell is it making my insides ignite when it should be pissing me off.

  “You want me to fuck you? Beg for it.”

  I turn around and face him, a disheveled, horny mess. He stands before me, stroking his impressive dick in his hand. Fuck, I need him. I sink to my knees, my hand replacing his on his cock. When I look up at him, his eyes are wide. I’ve clearly shocked him with my actions. Well, that makes two of us buddy, because I sure as hell don’t know what has me on my knees, begging him when I am the one that makes men beg. The look of shock in his eyes, followed by them fluttering shut the minute my tongue darts out and gently swirls around the head of his dick, is all I need to turn me into a wanton woman who will do whatever it takes to please her man.

  I lick, I stroke, and the minute I take all of him in, deep into my throat a strangled cry escapes him.

  Pulling back I say, “Please Grayson. Please fuck me.” My tongue darts out of my mouth connecting with the head of his cock, again. A tease, a promise, whatever the hell he wants it to be as long as he promises to fuck me.

  His head flies back, “More.”

  I take him deeper, my tongue running down the sensitive underside of him. His cock twitches in my mouth, a sure sign that he’s enjoying what I’m giving him. “Christ. Yes.”

  A few moments pass, his eyes open and he looks down at me. My eyes have never left his face, the expressions he has been making only increasing the wetness between my thighs. Fuck I need him. Not any man, just him and this ache he has stirred up in me. The moment our eyes connect I can see something in them, something in him, snap. It’s his restraint. This little game he is playing backfiring on him… desire turning into desperation.

  God, this is so wrong. But fuck if it doesn’t feel so right.

  Fisting my hair in his hand he eases my mouth off of him and brings me to my feet and sets me on the desk. I fall back onto my elbows, my legs spreading wide for him. “Fucking gorgeous,” he says.

  He lines his cock at my entrance, gliding it up and down my wet slit before pushing into me with ease, a groan escaping both of us. My eyes close, my head falls back as the feeling of him consumes me.

  He’s less gentle this time, the movements more punishing – harder, deeper, and faster. Each thrust, the grinding of his hips against me, each motion making me feel something I have never felt before. It’s more than satisfaction, it’s more than gratification. He dips his head, his teeth taking a nipple between his teeth, slowly applying more pressure, testing my limits. If I thought I was headed for an orgasm before, this, now? Shit, I don’t know if I will be able to recover from this one.

  The pressure increases, my pussy tightening, and every goddamn movement pushing me further and further to the edge. He bottoms out in me, grinding against me, the contractions of my sex holding him tightly, selfishly.

  Wave after wave of excruciating pleasure fall over me. “Oh, fuck,” I cry out.

  His teeth still on my nipple, he murmurs against me. “Look at me.” I try to open my eyes, but the feeling is just too intense. “Damn it, Ashlynn, look at me.” He begins to pull out, a threat to destroy this never ending orgasm. My eyes fly open, his steadfast on mine. Oh, fuck. I fall, like I’ve never fallen before. It’s a long straight fall that ends with a thud of my body on the desk, every nerve ending in me exhausted and sated.

  A smile plays on his lips as he stares at me, obviously pleased with the results of his assault.

  Lying here, he begins to pound into me, taking what he needs from me. Yet, here I am, writhing beneath him, my pussy tightening and on the verge of another orgasm when I didn’t think there was anything left in my body to produce another one.

  “Don’t stop, please,” I beg. He gives me what I want, what he needs until I’m screaming, “Yes, yes.”

  The minute I feel his warm cum release into me my body goes limp. I’m lying on the desk; legs spread, completely satisfied and in complete shock over what happened.

  The sound of his zipper forces my eyes to fly open. I watch as he dresses, still unable to move and frankly enjoying the view. And I don’t give a damn that I probably look like a fool. This man, whoever he is, just fucked me like no one ever has before. Not even…

  He catches me watching him and chuckles. “You certainly are a pleasant surprise,” Grayson says.

  I prop myself up. “Why do I get the feeling you know me, but I don’t know you?”

  “Out of all the feelings I’ve given you tonight, I hope that isn’t the one you’re focusing on.”

  “It isn’t,” I say, my eyes glancing toward his crotch, then back to his face.

  “I – uh – I need to get going,” he says, though something in his face tells me he doesn’t want to. Instead it tells me that this, whatever this was, hit him just as hard as it hit me and that he’s just as confused by it as I am.

  He hands me the shirt that he ripped off me earlier, his other hand caressing my cheek as he does. There’s a subtle shake of his head as he does it. I don’t know what it means, but I don’t ask.

  Instead, I slip my arms into the shirt and pull my skirt down. “It was nice meeting you, Grayson.”

  “Believe me, the pleasure was all mine.”

  9

  Grayson

  “Thank you, Jessa,” I say to the beautiful woman who sits outside my father’s door.

  “My pleasure Grayson. If you need anything while you’re here, you just let me know,” she replies with a smile.

  I give her a wink before I knock on the door to my father’s office.

  A smile, a compliment, and a little flirting are all it took to convince her to keep my identity a secret. I want to surprise him. Okay, more I want to shock the shit out of him. I want to see the look on his face when he finds out that his ten o’clock meeting is none other than me – his least favorite son.

  “Come in,” his voice bellows.

  I push open the door, but his eyes are focused on the computer screen in front of him. He doesn’t even bother to look up.

  I clear my throat and say, “Hey, Dad.”

  His eyes fly up at the sound of my voice and lock with mine. Looking into them is so much like looking into my own; the hazel color, the flecks of gold. Only, his are void of something; something that I hope I never see disappear from mine – emotion. I may not like emotions, I may know how bad they fuck someone up, but I’ll be damned if I am not going to feel something, anything.

  “Grayson?” My name is a loaded question. Why are you here? What do you want? And if I am reading him right, there’s a little piece of wondering if I’ve finally come over to the dark side.

  “The one and only,” I say smugly.

  He just stares, trying to decide whi
ch question to ask first. I’m almost certain that the question he should ask, how are you Gray, will not be what wins out.

  “What are you doing here?” he asks.

  It doesn’t surprise me. Infuriate me? Slightly.

  “Good to see you too, Dad,” I say, my voice dripping with sarcasm.

  He gives me a warning glare, much like he used to when I was a child. He had this distinct look that he would give me – one filled with frustration and irritation at my childish actions. Considering I was exactly that – a child – I got it a lot. Any silly joke, any wild stunt, any dick move I made in an attempt to gain his attention always resulted in me getting a “grow up Grayson” look from him, just like I am now.

  “I don’t have time for games, Gray,” he tells me.

  I let out a breath. “May I sit?” I ask.

  He gives me a nod, his eyes back on his screen.

  “Dad, please?” I ask.

  As if this isn’t fucking hard enough, he’s making it worse by being exactly the asshole I make him out to be. Not that I would ever admit it out loud, but there was a small part of me that… No, fuck that. I won’t even admit it internally.

  Finally, he looks up from the screen and over to me. “It’s good to see you, son.” Sure, I know he doesn’t mean it, but the lie makes my own attempt at niceties a little easier to swallow.

  “How have you been?” I ask.

  “Business is great. We just took on a few major cases,” he replies.

  Christ the man is always all business, no pleasure. It’s one of the vast differences between us. One of many, actually. I shake my head. “That’s great, Dad. But you,” I say, enunciating the “you.” “How are you?”

  “Business is great, I’m great,” he tells me. Then out of nowhere a smile creeps on his face. “And I’m seeing a new young woman.”

  There’s a smile on his face? That’s a new one. I hold back a laugh thinking of Daphne’s words the other day. He smiles? Yeah, okay, maybe we’re not as different as I like to think we are.