Maximum Rush (Tangled Desires Book 4)

by Murphy,Misti

  “Social experiment.” She moves to the end of the bed to sit beside me. Her thigh touches mine, the contact a warm buzz on my skin. “Why did you agree to it?”

  “She offered me ten thousand dollars to say I do.”

  “Really?” She arches an eyebrow, but there’s a spark of amusement in her gaze.

  “I figured it was easy money.” There’s no need to expound on the details, not at this point. Besides, I’m not sure Olivia told her the whole deal yet, and it would probably be better coming from her.

  We sit in silence for a little while. The constant rhythm of our breathing fills the space between us.

  “Nox, I didn’t exactly forget that night. I think, maybe the shock and nerves of getting married when I never ever planned to clouded my mind.” She shrugs and her arm brushes against mine. The floral scent in the room is strong, but there’s a hint of spice about her. “I just thought you should know.”

  “It doesn’t matter.” I stand up and straighten my suit. It really doesn’t. We were two people who connected violently for a fraction of time. I never expected to run into her again, or end up in the predicament of being attracted to the stranger I just made my wife.

  “No, I don’t suppose it does.” She gets up too. “Just don’t forget this isn’t real. This marriage is going to be over before we know it. And there would be no point in trying to get to know each other. Even if it wasn’t such a complete charade, I wouldn’t be interested. Relationships are made to end. Seventy percent of them within the first year.”

  So this is what Olivia meant about statistics. It’s also probably why she can’t have a relationship her friend hasn’t paid for. She rambles on about the facts and figures of why love is a pathetic waste of time. If I have to put up with this for the next three months I’m going to have to learn to zone her out. Placing my hand to the small of her back, I push her toward the door. “I wouldn’t worry about it. The sooner this is over the better it’ll be for all of us.”

  “Exactly,” she says. “We should make a toast to that.”

  Chapter Three

  Beck

  It’s not every day I get banged like a drum.

  It’s not that I don’t enjoy sex, but in my line of work it’s not exactly easy to find the time to meet men who I find enticing enough to go to bed with. On top of that there’s other factors to consider. Categories of men that I’m wary of.

  There’s the men I’ve come across through work, the ones who end up single once I find out what makes them less than good relationship material. They’re almost always liars and cheaters. Occasionally they’re momma’s boys or married to their job in a way that leaves little room for a workable relationship, which is what I advise my clients of. These men are off limits.

  Then there are those men who I can tell will expect breakfast in the morning, expect my number, and so forth. Another category I avoid like the plague.

  Then there’s the type I know won’t fulfil my needs. They’re the ones who are perpetually single and think they’re hot stuff. They think because they have a dick that they must be God’s gift to women, but rarely are. Occasionally I’ve settled for a night with one of them when my hand or the toys I keep in my bedside table won’t cut it. Mostly I look after my own needs, simply because it’s easier.

  It’s been, in my experience, an incredibly rare evening when a gorgeous chunk of man has crossed my path, not looking for anything more than a night occupied with pleasing each other, my needs his foremost thought, and his mine until we’re mutually satisfied. The parting soon after, a simple empty gesture. These times have been so rare I can count them on one hand.

  Nox was almost, but not quite perfect. He’d have fit into the last category except for one thing.

  I try to peer up at him without him noticing as we march side-by-side from the elevator. He’s relaxed, his jaw strong but loose as one side of his mouth lifts at catching me looking at him. I’d stopped spouting statistics at him when he’d grumbled that he’d got it, and there was no way he was expecting anything from this sham other than his money. But he still has his hand on my back, his large palm and long fingers splayed over my spine.

  We’d had one hell of a night. One amazing flash of passion. Electricity had crackled and pulsed between us within seconds of meeting. It was all pheromones and the fact I’d been antsy for months. His orange blossom and cloves scent had my mouth watering as he pushed me up against the wall of the club and kissed me in a sure and capable way. I’d wanted to climb him like a ravenous monkey. I couldn’t get enough.

  But I shouldn’t have. I should never have slept with Nox Casey. Only I couldn’t stop once we started. His hard body pitched to mine, his wide shoulders all sinew and muscle under my hands. I don’t know which one of us took our kiss to the next level, which one of us led the way from the club to the bedroom. I’d been clouded by a storm of lust. A first for me. And I’d broken the number one commandment of being the anti-cupid. I slept with a client’s boyfriend. Obviously he wasn’t relationship material, after all he cheated on her with me, but having to tell her the next day that he was not the man she thought she loved, while hiding the fact I’d gotten a smidge too involved had been horrifying.

  Of course it would come back to bite me. Of course it would. I don’t know what I expected. Karma maybe. The universe to kick me in the ass for my misdemeanour. I didn’t expect it to be like this, though.

  Nox halts outside the ballroom, his hand on my arm to stay me. Live music, chatter and the joyful noise of people entertained by our predicament flows from the room. Turning me to face him, he uses the side of a finger to tilt my face so he can stare into my eyes. The soft thrum of his pulse above the collar of his shirt transfixes me, wetness pooling in my mouth at the spicy citrus scent that emanates from him.

  “Are you ready, Mrs. Casey?”

  Am I ready to carry through with this charade for the rest of the night? Or until Liv gets over her crazy and calls it off? Can I stand so close to him and not be affected by his gentle touch and easy manner? I don’t know, but it’s time to get on with it. “Ready.”

  For a moment he continues to stare at me while he pushes open the door. There’s a certain gravity between us, a pull that makes me want to move closer or wish that he would. The same way it was the first time we met. The attraction between us has a life of its own that makes me nervous. Then he puts his arm around my waist and pulls me into the room with him.

  The ballroom swells with applause as the emcee announces us, and I put my head down and rush for the table where Olivia is sitting with Jack. I swear if she makes this continue much longer I might actually be friendless.

  Falling into the seat, Lennox pulls out for me, I whisper at her. “So how long do you plan to make this go on?”

  “Oh, I don’t know.” She picks up her champagne glass and sips. “Now that I know it’s the guy, I’m not sure this isn’t the best idea I’ve ever had.”

  “What?” I grip her arm and pull her closer. “What are you trying to infer by the guy? He was a mistake. A giant, colossal screw up on my part. He’s not the guy. This isn’t going to turn into some kismet boy meets girl story. You know I don’t believe in that.”

  “Just because your mother’s been married four times, and your father’s a serial monogamist with a new life partner every two years doesn’t mean you’re destined to never, you know, fall for the guy.”

  “The statistics don’t lie, Liv. I’m smart enough to know to use my head over my heart. Besides, you know how we met. What if he knows who I am?”

  “Tell him about what you do,” she says. “I think you should tell him. I think you should go along with the whole marriage thing for a little while and find out what it’s really like. It can be a learning experience that will help you be more sympathetic and understanding.”

  Olivia is getting far too much enjoyment out of my discomfort. It’s clear in her wide grin and sparkling eyes, or maybe that’s the look she’s got from Jack Case
y’s hand on her leg, his face near to hers. He’s a lot like his brother. Robust genetic code hardwired into their bloodline gives them both strong features. Large hands, hard jaw lines, and fit builds. Their eyes are similar shades of blue, and they both wear their smile in the same half-baked and utterly gorgeous way, but there’s something a little deeper to Nox. An undercurrent of seriousness his younger sibling doesn’t have.

  “No.” I squeal.

  Nox glances at me, his head cocked, a mixture of amusement and intrigue playing on his face. “Everything okay?”

  No. It’s time to end this. Tell him and Liv that I’m leaving. That there’s no way I’m going along with this any longer.

  “She’s fine.” Liv leans over me. “She wanted to tell you that the reason we talked about you so much is because she—”

  I pinch her as hard as I can, and she yelps, pulling back.

  “Because I couldn’t walk straight for a week after.” Which is also a form of the truth, though not at all what Liv was going to say. But I couldn’t let her tell him.

  The last time that happened it went bad really quick. The guy had been fucking his secretary for several months, so he shouldn’t have been surprised when his girlfriend turned down his proposal, but he’d found my number in her phone while trying to figure out why she would break up with him. He’d been so angry, so sure that I was to blame. If it hadn’t been for Liv stumbling across us, I don’t know how far it would have gone, or if she and I would have ended up friends. It’s part of the job, the risk of being seen as the instigator and the reason why their relationships failed. It’s easier to blame anyone but themselves for their behavior, I guess. But Liv had jumped in, and all I ended up with was a broken wrist and a bruised face. I still owe her for that. Damn it.

  “You dog.” Jack laughs. “Wait until I tell Finn and Dean. Our brother here has some magical prowess.”

  “I pulled three muscles in my back,” I explain. “It wasn’t, well it was related to the activity, but it wasn’t like that.”

  “Still too good to pass up,” Jack says.

  Liv picks up her glass and taps on it with a teaspoon.

  Nearly every head in the place turns in our direction. They stare at us with anticipation. Liv clears her throat and nudges me in the ribs.

  “What?”

  “I think they expect us to kiss,” Nox says in my ear. His breath is warm on my cheek, his lips so close I can practically feel them on my skin.

  Kiss him? Now? Shit.

  “No, that can’t be what they want.” That can’t be what these people are waiting for, what Liv just ordered with her stupid spoon on glass. I wish the thing had shattered in her hand.

  “It’s just show.” He twists, turning my chair so I’m facing him. “It doesn’t mean anything. And it’s not like we haven’t done it before.”

  And it was insane, thrilling, decadence amped up to eleven. My lips tingle at the thought of it. I hate this. Deep down in my bones, want to scream at my best friend, hate this. I feel like some damsel in distress, like those lilies that never made it through the ceremony before they wilted and fell apart. This isn’t me. I’m not some useless girl in the throes of nervous butterflies at the idea of having to kiss a gorgeous and far too sexy smelling guy. So what if his scent is compelling, his eyes the perfect width apart, his shoulders wide? That’s nature’s way of forcing us to procreate. It’s not some message from the universe that here’s a man who will make me change my mind on the things I know to be true.

  “But that was different. I wasn’t supposed to see you again.”

  “I meant at the ceremony.” He brings his hand to my jaw and rubs his thumb along it. “When I was told to kiss my bride. We’re just playing along.”

  “Yep. Okay.” He wasn’t thinking about that other kiss. That’s good, right? I shut my eyes as he gets closer.

  His lips touch mine. They’re firm and sensual as he palms the back of my neck and increases the pressure. Somebody cat calls. I swear they should all be too well bred to do that, but still, someone here thinks it’s amusing.

  “Kiss her,” someone yells.

  A chant of ‘kiss, kiss, kiss’ starts up. They’re really getting into it, and all the while I’m trying not to let this butterfly sensation of his lips on mine flood through my veins, but I can’t stop the momentum, can’t keep my fingers from finding the hard ridge of his shoulder as I swallow hard. I’m almost willing him to go further, to do more, but I wouldn’t do that. That’s not what I want.

  He nips my bottom lip and slides his tongue into my mouth. My eyes roll back in my head behind my closed lids as he invades my senses. The champagne makes me dizzy, his tongue strokes sensitive spots that make my whole body feel like an erogenous zone. Heat travels through my nerves from the places he’s touching me.

  Then it’s over. He pulls back and the room erupts with cheers. A quick squeeze of my neck and he drops his hand away. “Wasn’t so bad, was it?”

  So bad? It was horrible, awful. Like the first time, when that kiss led to a huge mistake. Big. The biggest. But I can keep my hands off him, I can hold my own with all these people here. We won’t have to kiss again. Will we? I skate my fingers over my bottom lip, which feels a little swollen. “No, not so terrible.”

  The tinkling sound starts somewhere else in the room.

  Liv and Jack start laughing. Nox just shifts toward me, a tiny lift to those sweet lips, hunger in his gaze. Oh, shit! Here we go again.

  ***

  I’m giddy on French champagne, kissed to within an inch of my ability to keep my clothes on and currently being carried by some damn sexy arms. Even under his suit jacket I can feel how hard they are, chiselled muscle and damn good genetics.

  His laugh is musical. I guess that shouldn’t be surprising considering Liv said he was a musician. Didn’t she? I’m sure that was what she said. Talent as well as physical attributes. He’d make a damn good sperm donor. If I was ever interested in finding someone to procreate with, this would be the guy. Instead I’m married to him. At least for tonight. That means we could have sex, right? Or would having sex make it harder to dissolve the whole married because my best friend is a bitch-faced whore thing? I really need to tell her that. Must remember to call her a bitch-faced whore at breakfast. By then I’ll probably be able to remember to really mean it, too.

  He pushes open the door to one of the suites. “Welcome to your honeymoon, Mrs. Casey.”

  “Please don’t call it that.” I giggle, and then grimace. “Or me that.”

  Am I flirting with him? Is that what I’m doing? Pish, giggling. So not cool. It’s all the champagne of course, the alcohol I’d needed to get through all the damn metal hitting glass. And the kisses. We’d kissed through dinner, and speeches, and cake. Through our first dance, and several dances after that. We’d kissed until I was breathless, each one more sensual than the last. Electrifying seductive moments that made my head reel, because why wouldn’t this whole situation get worse than just being married. I had to end up with the one guy who’s ever made me want to jump him despite the obvious reasons I shouldn’t. “It’s a lack of self-control.”

  “What is?” He ambles across the room, kicking off his shoes as he goes.

  “You.”

  “And by that you mean?” He throws me onto the bed, and my world tilts and spins in an unnerving way.

  With a groan I flop onto my side. “You smell too good.”

  “Well thanks.” He sheds his jacket and ruffles his hair. “I guess.”

  “Pheromones. You know the chemicals that make us attracted to the people with good genetic code. It’s the major basis of attraction.”

  “I’m sure it is.” He squints, then lays down facing me. He has a beautiful face. Stubble coats his jaw, his slightly too long hair now flopping over his brow, but I can see his eyes in the sliver of light from the bathroom. They’re so blue and they seem to drink me in. “So what you’re saying is you’re attracted to me as much now as you were
the night you tried to undress me in front of a room full of strangers? Even after a year, after forgetting me to the point where you didn’t recognize me, you still want to jump me?”

  “It’s nothing personal.” No, it’s science and the fact that it’s been a long time since I tried to find a flesh and blood person to satisfy my urges. Screwing up as badly as I did kind of makes it difficult to want to get out and do it again, just in case I mess it up. And I didn’t forget him, I was just too busy freaking out earlier to even look at him properly, let alone recognize him. “Nature dictates that you and I are compatible. But it’s only physical. It’s not personal.”

  “Uh-huh.” He takes my hand, twines his fingers with mine.

  “So we could have sex and go on our merry way tomorrow. We could do that, and it wouldn’t mean anything.”

  “Right.” Squeezing my hand, he shifts an arm under my head and presses his lips to my forehead. “You’re drunk. Get some sleep. We’ll talk about it tomorrow.”

  “But I’ll be gone tomorrow.” I close my eyes.

  “Mmm-hmm.” His lips stay on my skin, his fingers stroking my shoulder. Something new and different. I’ve never done this before. It feels kind of nice. Strange.

  ***

  Liv’s sitting out at one of those fancy white bistro settings they have on the patio of the hotel restaurant when I find her. My temples are throbbing and the sun is a little too bright despite the heavy shades I put on before I left the room.

  Nox was still asleep when I crawled out of bed to search out Liv, thank you, universe. He’d still been wearing the pants and shirt from the night before, his hair scruffed up, and the shadow of a beard even more noticeable today than it had been last night. He really is gorgeous.

  I pull one of the white wrought iron chairs out and plonk myself down in it. “Tell me you’ve come back to your senses.”

  “Morning to you, too,” she practically sings, pushing a cup of java under my nose.