“What the hell, Wes? We are not getting on that thing.” She pointed an offending finger at the Centennial Wheel, which was like a luxurious, enclosed Ferris wheel that reached heights of over two hundred feet.
The high, aerial ride was like a throwback to their youth. It reminded him of a childhood incident, and the one and only time he’d ever seen Natalie give up on something she wanted so badly, and that was to join him and her brother in the tree house that her father had built in their backyard. At ten years old, she’d made it up the ladder only once, because one look down and she’d nearly hyperventilated. Her father had to climb up to rescue her and carried her down while she kept her eyes squeezed shut.
Wes and Connor couldn’t have been happier that she never again attempted to scale the ladder, because it made the tree house the one place they knew for certain they could escape to without Connor’s pesky younger sister tagging along and annoying them. It had been their hangout, boys only, and Natalie had hated that she couldn’t join them.
“You’ll be fine,” he said with a persuasive smile. “I paid to have one of the VIP pods all to ourselves, so there will be plenty of room inside.”
Her pretty blue eyes glared daggers at him. “Why are you doing this to me?”
“Because I’ve always wanted to go on this ride,” he said, which was the truth. Partially. “Oh, and because you lost the bet and I’m asking you to.”
She narrowed her gaze, which did nothing to conceal the apprehension etching her features. “You’re such an asshole, Wes.”
He laughed, not the least bit insulted. It wasn’t the first time she’d called him a derogatory name, and he had a feeling it was her defense mechanism kicking in. “This is your chance to prove to me that you’re going to uphold your end of the deal for the next two weeks, no matter what I ask.”
Her chin lifted, that feisty, stubborn vixen taking over. “If I throw up all over you, it’s going to be your own damn fault.”
“I’ll risk it. It’s all about mind over matter.”
A huff of breath escaped her pursed lips, but before she could say anything more, he grabbed her hand once again and led her through the line to the modern-style Ferris wheel. Since he’d purchased VIP tickets, they were immediately ushered onto one of the gondolas, and seconds later, the glass doors closed after them, giving Natalie no time to protest or give in to her cold feet.
“Jesus,” she said in a horrified voice as she sat down in one of the chairs and covered her eyes with her hands. “The floor is made out of glass!”
He looked down as the wheel moved upward to load the next cab, and sure enough, he was able to see everything below them. “Cool.”
“It’s not cool.” Her words were muffled by the hands still masking her face. “It’s terrifying.”
He rolled his eyes at her overly embellished act. There was no way he was going to allow her to hide for the entire ride, which defeated the purpose of this outing. Gently grasping her wrists, he pried her hands away to reveal her apprehensive features as he pulled her to her feet. Her wide eyes latched onto his, and while he acknowledged her trepidation, he suddenly wanted her to actually enjoy this ride and the spectacular view of the city at night.
“Two rules, Natalie,” he said softly as he led her to one of the windows with a metal bar for her to hold on to. “You remain standing for the entire twelve-minute ride, and you keep your eyes open, too.”
“I know I already called you an asshole, but it bears repeating,” she muttered as the gondola continued to climb higher and higher into the night sky. “This is cruel and unusual torture.”
“I’m not trying to torture you.” Okay, maybe he was, just a little bit. He liked having that advantage over her.
He curled her fingers around the metal bar so she had something to hold on to, and still standing behind her, he braced his own hands beside hers on the rail to give her a feeling of safety. Except the intimate position caused the front of his body to brush against the back of hers, and that’s all it took for his cock to register the close proximity of her ass. With her wearing those hot-as-fuck heels, she was the perfect height for him to bend her forward and tunnel his shaft along her soft, wet pussy.
He felt her body tremble and heard a soft, strangled moan catch in her throat. The arousing sound was like a slow stroke to his hardening dick, which made him feel like the asshole she’d called him because he was fairly certain those noises coming from her were dismay and not a response to the sexual awareness he was dealing with.
She drew in a shaky breath as they reached the very top of the rotation, then groaned again as they began their slow descent down the other side. “This is so . . . damn . . .high.”
“I won’t let anything happen to you,” he promised, and meant it. Despite daring her to get on the ride, he’d never do anything to deliberately hurt her.
“You can’t stop the glass bottom of this stupid thing from falling out!” she snapped back.
Holding back his amused chuckle took effort. “Dramatic much?” he teased.
He felt her legs start to buckle, and he instinctively secured an arm around her waist—which brought her backside flush to his body. He caught a whiff of a soft, feminine scent—the one he’d always associated with her—and wondered if she realized that she’d somehow turned the tables on him. That he was now the one being tortured.
Her breathing grew rapid, and she suddenly turned around in his arms so she was facing him. Her eyes were huge, her pupils dilated with a surprising amount of fear he hadn’t anticipated, and genuine angst was written all over her expression.
“I can’t do this,” she said, panting with anxiety, her complexion pale. “Oh, God, I’m going to pass out!”
He had an oh, shit moment as he realized she wasn’t joking or exaggerating, and that he was responsible for her oncoming panic attack. Remorse immediately kicked in, and feeling like a jerk for pushing her further than she was comfortable, he released his hold on the steel bar and framed her face in his hands. He forced her to concentrate on him as she gasped for air, quickly on her way to hyperventilating. He knew heights weren’t her favorite thing, but he truly had no idea the extent of her fears.
“Breathe, Natalie,” he ordered firmly, knowing what it had cost her to give in when she was so strong-willed and had no doubt wanted to prove herself capable of handling the ride. “Just keep looking at me.”
He continued to coach her on inhaling and exhaling and eventually felt her body relax. Her heaving chest calmed, and that hysterical look in her eyes gradually ebbed into something so soft and vulnerable it hit him square in his chest and stole his breath. His heart raced as they stared into each other’s eyes, the ride no longer her focus as her anxiety diminished and awareness took its place.
Her lush mouth parted on a soft sigh, and the sight of her pink, wet tongue slowly gliding across her lush bottom lip was like an irresistible tease, fueling his need to taste her, to finally give in to the desire that kept him up late at night, imagining how she’d feel moving beneath his hard body and moaning his name as she came for him.
With his palms still cradling her face, Wes tipped her head back a few inches so that her mouth was poised beneath his, waiting for some kind of sign that she was opposed to what was about to happen between them. Instead, she whispered his name like a plea, destroying any last bit of restraint he’d been holding on to.
He doubted a single kiss would satisfy years of wanting Natalie, yet he couldn’t stop what was about to happen, even knowing how wrong it was to take advantage of this moment. But kissing her felt inevitable and as necessary as his next breath, like something inside of him would die if he didn’t have her, just this once.
He stared into her clear blue eyes, the trust and reciprocal need lingering in the depths slaying him. The need he understood. But the trust . . . that was something he didn’t deserve.
“I’m sorry,” he murmured huskily, unsure if he was apologizing for making her ride the Centennia
l Wheel or for finally giving in to the urge to kiss her.
But the second he lowered his head and his lips touched hers, his reasons for being contrite no longer mattered.
Chapter Six
As Wes selfishly took what he wanted, what he suddenly desperately needed, he fully expected Natalie to come to her senses and jerk away from him, to end the kiss with an indignant comment that would remind him what a fucking bad idea this was—and that he had no business putting his lips anywhere on Natalie’s body.
It’s what she should have done, because he lacked the power to do it himself.
Instead, she placed her hands on his hips and leaned into him, flattening her breasts against his chest and making him wish she was completely naked so he could feel those gorgeous tits against his bare skin. Her mouth was so soft and yielding, her perfectly shaped lips molding to his as if they’d been designed solely for his pleasure. And when they parted and she made that cock-squeezing sound in the back of her throat, he was helpless to resist the invitation to deepen the kiss, to sweep his tongue inside and explore.
Jesus . . . how could a mouth that was so full of fire and sass taste as sweet as cotton candy? The question seeped through Wes’s mind as he released his hold on her face and slid his hands into her thick, luxurious hair, gripped the strands in his fingers, and tilted her head to the side so that he could slant his mouth across hers in another slow, hot, tempting kiss that had her hands gripping him tighter and her hips moving provocatively against his rock-hard erection.
He shuddered and groaned and with all the friction the two of them generated whenever they were together and the years of sexual tension always simmering beneath the surface between them, he always imagined that kissing Natalie would be equivalent of being swept up into a tornado. Hard and fast, wildly intense, and reckless.
Oh, he definitely had the urge to pick up the pace, to unleash all the lust he was deliberately holding back, but this unhurried seduction was equally potent on a whole different level. This brief moment of indulgence was also all he’d allow himself to enjoy, because anything more with this woman was pure wishful thinking, or fantasizing, for numerous reasons.
One of them being her brother, Connor. Messing around with his best friend’s little sister was like committing friendship suicide, not to mention putting a strain on their working relationship. Those pertinent thoughts prompted Connor’s fierce, I’m going to fucking kill you for touching my sister expression to flash in Wes’s mind, and it was just what he needed to put a damper on his cock’s overly eager hopes for some kind of happy ending.
Wasn’t going to happen. Not now. Not ever, with Natalie.
The depth of his regret and disappointment was startling.
He loosened his hold on her hair, and with one last pass of his tongue against hers, he ended the kiss and lifted his head. Her lashes fluttered back open, the dazed look in her eyes and the dreamy expression on her flushed face dissipating as she gradually remembered where she was and realized who she’d been kissing.
Her hands instantly dropped from his hips when it dawned on her how intimately she’d been touching him . . . as well as rubbing up against him, not that he was going to point that out to her when she seemed so stunned and confused by her response to him.
She tipped her chin up, her gaze narrowed warily on his face. “Why did you do that?”
“You mean kiss you?” he asked, wanting to be sure that’s what she was questioning.
She nodded. “Yes.”
He opted for the simple, easy answer. “Because you were panicking and I was trying to distract you from the ride.” He slid his hands into the front pockets of his jeans and gave her a playful grin. “Did it work?”
“Yes,” she admitted, albeit reluctantly. “Just don’t do it again.”
Before he could say anything more—not that there was anything else to say—the ride came to an end. As soon as the doors slid open, Natalie darted around him and rushed off the gondola as if her sexy heels were on fire. He followed her onto the platform, came up beside her, and lightly grabbed her elbow to guide her back out to the main area of the pier.
“Where are you parked?” he asked, fairly certain that she was ready to call it a night. “I’ll walk you to your car.”
“You don’t need to do that,” she said, rejecting his offer. “I’ll be fine.”
“It wasn’t optional, Natalie. Where are you parked?” he asked again, this time in a tone of voice that brooked no argument.
With a slight huff, she relented and gave him the section number, which was close to where he’d parked, as well. They walked to her vehicle in silence, and when her MINI Cooper came into sight, she disengaged her alarm and unlocked the car with her remote.
Wes opened the driver’s-side door for her but stopped her before she could slide inside. She glanced up at him, that wariness back again, which he knew he deserved after tonight’s stupid idea but he hated anyway.
Maybe what he was about to say would help them get back on track. “I just wanted to tell you that did great with the Magnolia listing today,” he said, meaning every word. “Your offers were strong, and you handled the bidding really well. You’re a good, solid Realtor.”
Her gaze softened at his compliment, but he didn’t miss the flash of disappointment in the depths of her eyes. “I’m a good Realtor . . . just not good enough to work for Premier Realty.”
He inwardly winced, hating the harsh way that sounded, when his reasons for saying no to employing her at the firm were more complicated than that. Since her comment was merely a statement and didn’t require a response from him, he let it go, since it was obviously a bone of contention between them.
“By the way, keep your Friday evening open,” he told her, bringing up his next request for her services. “I’m going to need you for the night.”
A feisty, defiant spark lit her gaze. “What if I already have plans?”
“With Richard?” he automatically asked, his tone more obnoxious than he’d intended.
The corner of her mouth twitched with a mirth he didn’t understand, which she contradicted with a noncommittal shrug that made him a little crazy. “Maybe.”
Wes’s gut churned with acid. He was not a jealous man. He’d never cared if the women he’d casually dated were seeing other guys, so why did the thought of Natalie going out with Richard make him want to stake a claim on a woman who wasn’t even his?
“Cancel them,” he said, unable to deny that he liked that the bet gave him the power to have Natalie all to himself. “Poker night this month is being held at my place, and I need a hostess to make some appetizers, get us our beers, and clean up after we’re done.”
She wrinkled her cute little nose in distaste. “Now that sounds like a fun evening,” she said, her tone droll.
He chuckled. “It will be. For us guys, anyway. And I’ll need you Sunday afternoon for a few hours, too.”
“Dare I ask why?” she asked skeptically.
“I have a surprise birthday party to go to for a friend, and you’re going to be my plus one.” Whether Richard liked it or not.
* * *
“Crap!”
Forty minutes after shutting off her alarm the following morning, Natalie woke up with a start, realizing that she’d dozed off again and had overslept. With a rush of adrenaline surging through her veins, she jumped out of bed and stumbled toward the bathroom to make up for lost time.
After her restless night of tossing and turning and her lack of REM sleep, she was bleary-eyed, her head felt as though it had been stuffed with cotton, and she was undeniably grumpy.
And it was all Wes Sinclair’s fault. Not because she’d lost the bet to him yesterday and not because he’d coerced her onto the Centennial Wheel. Both of those things she could have dealt with, and in the moment, she had. No, it was that unexpected, toe-curling kiss that he’d planted on her that kept replaying in her mind in lifelike detail whenever she’d closed her eyes that was responsible for
her sleep deficiency.
Not to mention the pulsing ache between her thighs that he’d instigated with that kiss. God, she hadn’t been so hot and bothered since way before she and Mitch had broken up, and after a few hours of trying to ignore that persistent arousal thrumming through her body, she’d finally reached into her nightstand drawer and let her battery-operated boyfriend—fondly named Liam, for her fantasy freebie, Liam Hemsworth—get her off. He never disappointed.
But as she’d slid the vibrator through her wet slit and closed her eyes to summon Liam’s face, it was Wes’s gorgeous features that she’d seen dipping between her spread legs and his hands gripping her inner thighs as he kept them pushed wide apart so he could slide his wicked mouth across her needy pussy. With his dark, hot eyes looking up at her, he’d flicked his tongue along her clit until she’d come on a long, hard, shuddering orgasm.
As a fantasy, Wes was quickly replacing Liam as her go-to guy. He was sex personified, with a body built for sin and a mouth made for pleasure, and good God, she wanted more of him, even knowing what a huge mistake it would be to give in to the lust burning between them . . . which was why she’d told him not to kiss her again. It had been pure self-preservation on her part, because she wasn’t sure she’d be able to resist him, or where another kiss like that might lead.
Then again, the shameless part of her that was attracted to Wes was very curious to discover what might happen between them if she allowed his lips on hers again. The possibilities were endless . . .
Since she’d overslept, she didn’t have time to wash, blow-dry, and style her hair, so she clipped it onto the top of her head and took a quick shower. Once she was done, she pulled her hair into a sleek ponytail, applied her makeup, and put on a navy blue dress with white trim. Twenty minutes later, she was out the door.
The Book Boyfriend Series Box Set Page 5