Sweet Temptation

by Lauren Hawkeye

  Why was he hesitating?

  With every other woman he’d allowed into his life, even for just a night, he’d had no connection. No attachment to them. Meg, though?

  “I like you,” he admitted. He even...cared about her. He wouldn’t be able to just walk away.

  “Liking me is good.” Meg grinned up at him, then trailed a finger down his chest, between his pecs...and then farther down. “See? I like you, too.”

  Hissing, he caught her hand before she could take him to the point of no return. Still, her fingertips grazed the head of his erection through his slacks, and he saw stars.

  “This part is easy,” he informed her, placing a mere inch between them, but an inch he very much needed to form any kind of coherent thought. “It’s the part that comes after that makes this messy.”

  “You mean when you leave?” She cocked her head, studying him, and he had the uncomfortable sensation that she could see right through to the heart of him. Right to the part of him that wasn’t as excited to go as he should have been. “I think that makes it easier.”

  “How so?” He held his breath, hoping both that she gave him a solid reason not to do this...and also that she had something to say that gave his conscience the all clear.

  No, John. No, the little angel on his shoulder whispered.

  The devil on his other side knocked the little angel out cold.

  “You’re here for, what? One more week?” He nodded, and she pursed her lips—incredibly full lips that would look glorious wrapped around his cock. “That’s perfect.”

  “How so?” He was stuck on the image of her lips. Discussing this like it might happen had his brain foggy, and he was having trouble keeping up.

  “Well, I know you don’t do commitment. And that’s fine, because I’m not looking for it.”

  He frowned slightly. For some reason, he didn’t like that, but she continued, “But I also have this sneaking suspicion that once isn’t going to be quite enough to get this out of our systems.” Without warning, she rose to her toes. Her soft, warm tongue darted out, tracing a line over his jaw, and he groaned with something akin to pain.

  “You might be right about that.” His hand was in her hair before he consciously decided to do it, wrapped in the silky chestnut waves. She gasped, a throaty little sound, when he tugged just a bit.

  “Do that again.”

  Shit. He was really in trouble.

  He tugged again, a little harder this time, and had the pleasure of seeing her cheeks flush with the most delicious shade of pink.

  He liked to be in control. He could tuck it away and trot out a vanilla version of himself when the situation demanded it, but to have a woman respond to him the way Meg was right now, to just the slightest nonverbal command...

  Yeah, one time was most definitely not going to be enough.

  “Do you know what you’re asking?” He kept his voice deliberately mild, though he was feeling anything but.

  “If you’re asking if I know that you’re a kinky bastard, yeah, I’ve heard the rumors.” She grinned up at him, but the sauciness of her words was undercut by the raw need he saw sparking in her eyes.

  “Theo talks too much,” he muttered, to which she smirked.

  “You can tell me why Theo knows so much about your kinks some other time.” Her expression grew serious.

  “Tell me,” he said softly. Closing the space between them again, he pressed his hips flush with hers. She gasped when he rocked the solid length of his erection against the soft curves of her stomach. “I need to hear you say it.”

  “I’ve been working so damn hard.” Letting her head fall back against the cool metal of the car door, she closed her eyes on a breathy sigh. “I just want to have some fun. It might be nice to be...taken care of.”

  “Fuck me.” No way was he walking away from this. No way in hell.

  Opening her eyes, she fixed him with a laser-like blue stare. “Isn’t that what you like?”

  His control snapped. With a growl, he lowered his hands to her hips. Sliding a palm along the outside of one of her thighs, he wrapped it around his waist, leaving her core exposed.

  She gasped when he bent his knees, adjusting their position so that his rock-solid cock pressed against her entrance. With his free hand, he slid an inquisitive finger over her panties, finding her as slick as the satin of the thong she’d teased him with.

  “Is this what you want me to take care of?” He rocked into her warmth again, fingers digging into the soft flesh of her leg, against the need to rip that flimsy excuse of a thong aside and drive himself home. “This greedy little pussy?”

  “Y-yes.” Her skin was flushed, her breath coming in pants, her eyes squeezed shut against the onslaught of sensation. “Please.”

  “Then let’s discuss terms.”

  He might have laughed at the shock on her face as her eyes flew open, but he understood just how desperate she was feeling.

  “Now?” Her voice was incredulous. “How about in ten minutes? No, make it five. You’ve got me so fired up—it won’t take long.”

  He laughed, a throaty chuckle as he ran his thumb slowly over her lips.

  “We’re not doing this until we set some ground rules, kitten.” Reluctantly, he set her back on her feet, smoothing her dress back down around her hips and resenting the hell out of the cotton for the loss of access.

  “All right.” She gave a shake like a puppy, as though to clear her head, then squared her shoulders, reminding him again of what he liked about her. She was hot, yes, but she was also stubborn and ambitious, both traits he admired. Both traits he had. “First. This is just for one week, yes? Just until you leave. Full stop.”

  “Correct.” Though he was surprised and slightly unsettled to have her lay it out so clearly before he could; he wasn’t used to that. “I can’t offer more than a week.”

  “I wasn’t asking for a ring, cowboy.” She arched an eyebrow, and John shifted. She was absolutely right, of course, so why did her willingness to limit their fling to a week unsettle him? “Like I said. I just want to hand over the reins for a few days.”

  “I’ve never had a woman give herself to me for an entire week.” The thought of having Meg for seven entire days...of being able to explore things with her that he hadn’t yet with any other woman was intoxicating.

  When he looked into her clear blue eyes again, he found her looking puzzled.

  “That’s not sexist, is it?” Dammit. He’d just been saying what he felt.

  “How is a choice I make freely sexist?” Meg cocked her head, and again, he felt as though she could see right through him.

  “Then why are you looking at me like you’re confused?” Dipping his head on impulse, he brushed a hint of a kiss over her full pink lips—their first kiss, a promise of what was to come.

  “Because you make it sound like I’m giving you a present.” A hint of uncertainty colored her voice. At least he wasn’t the only one off his game here.

  “You are.” Sucking in a deep breath, he forced himself to take a giant step back, bumping into the car parked next to his. “And it’s a big present. So I want you to be absolutely sure.”

  “I’m sure.” If her voice had been full of bravado, he might not have believed her, but what he heard was quiet yet sure. Yeah, she knew what she wanted, which was apparently the same thing he did. That, and the picture she made, leaning against his car with her dress all disheveled, skin flushed and eyes bright from his touch, made it so tempting to seal their deal right then, right there.

  But she was giving him a gift, and he wanted to do right by her. So he simply ran a hand over the stubble on his skull and grinned.

  “Go home, Meg. Think this over. Are you free tomorrow night?”

  She nodded, and the trust in her eyes nearly brought him to his knees.

  “Come to my
hotel for dinner.”

  “You don’t have to feed me,” she said as she smiled wryly. “You don’t have to wait, either.”

  “You said you wanted to be taken care of,” he reminded her, surprising himself by crossing the space between them and taking her hand in his. He liked the feeling of her fingers twined with his. “I intend to do that.”

  She frowned, clearly puzzled, and he swallowed a chuckle. He didn’t mind throwing this confident, competent woman off her game, just a bit.

  “So cold showers for us both tonight?” She cocked her head as she spoke, leaning forward slightly. Deliberately, he was sure, to give him a prime view of her rather spectacular tits spilling out the top of her dress.

  His cock stiffened impossibly further.

  “I’ll take a shower,” he agreed, squeezing her fingers, “but I’ll be doing it with my cock in my hand, thinking about you.”

  “John!” she gasped, her hand reflexively squeezing his. “God.”

  “You can call me both of those things as much as you want.” He rubbed his thumb over one of her fingers, wondering why the small gesture made his pulse quicken. “But save them for tomorrow. You keep those busy little fingers out of your panties tonight, understood?”

  “You’re not serious.” Her spine stiffened. “You can’t tell—”

  “I can, and I just did.” He smirked down at her, bending so that he could whisper into her ear. “You gave yourself to me for a week, remember? And I won’t be cheated out of one of your orgasms.”

  Meg’s breath thickened, and he wanted to take care of the mean little ache he’d given her, right then and there.

  “There she is!”

  Meg and John jerked apart, fingers untangling as they heard Jo’s unmistakable, throaty voice. Looking across the parking lot, they saw Meg’s sister and Theo, winding their way through the parked cars.

  “What are you doing out here?” Theo frowned at John. John scowled right back, burying a twist of guilt.

  He was new to this whole friendship thing, but he was pretty sure that making plans to screw the lights out of someone your friend considered a sister was a no-no.

  “We wanted to talk, and it was too loud in there,” Meg replied mildly. She gave no sign of what they’d been discussing, and John had to admire her self-control, because he felt as though his actions were scrawled in red, right across his face for anyone to read.

  He felt that twist of guilt, yes, but what he felt for Meg was stronger. Interesting.

  “Did he behave himself?” Theo asked Meg darkly as he shot a look at John. His tone was joking, but John again felt the burn.

  He’d cultivated the playboy image for years—reveled in it, even. Why did he suddenly care that people saw him that way?

  That was a question for another day. He was trying to think up a reply when Meg cut him off.

  “Theo, remember what happened when you gave me the John lecture last time?” Her voice was light, pleasant, but with a thread of steel.

  “I’m just trying to—” Theo’s words broke off on a shriek as Meg, lightning quick, snaked out a hand. Catching Theo’s left nipple in nimble fingers, she gave it a quick twist that buckled his knees.

  “What? Why?” Theo clasped a hand to his wounded chest, his expression tragic as a baby bird fallen from its nest.

  “You don’t get to mansplain my choice of bed partners, bro.” Smoothing her hair back, Meg lifted her chin in the air. “And you have nothing to worry about. John and I understand each other perfectly. Now, did you have a reason to track me down?”

  “We’re going home,” Theo bit out, glaring at Meg. “Though I’m second-guessing offering you a ride.”

  “You deserved it,” Jo informed her partner. The wounded expression on Theo’s face brought laughter rumbling out of John’s chest.

  He watched as the three of them piled into Theo’s car, bickering all the way. The message was clear—they were family. They depended on one another. It was something he’d never had, something he didn’t fully understand, and the thought that he was somehow a part of it, even on the periphery, was both comforting and anxiety inducing.

  Meg looked out the window as they drove away, and family was suddenly the last thought in his brain. She winked at him suggestively, then made an incredibly dirty gesture with her fingers, and he burst out laughing again.

  Tomorrow night was a long way away.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  MAKING DELIVERIES WAS the part of owning a catering company that Meg liked the least. Today, however, as she made her way from business to business, she found herself grateful for the monotonous busywork.

  Making sure that the accounting firm two blocks from her rented kitchen had the correct assortment of cinnamon raisin, multigrain and jalapeño cheddar bagels in their twice-weekly breakfast order kept her from focusing on the way John’s hand had felt as it curved around her thigh, holding her open to him. Delivering a platter of beautifully cut tropical fruit to a local spa helped her keep her mind on something other than how good it had felt to have his rock-solid erection rocking against her damp cleft. And ensuring that she had vegan, paleo, Whole30-and keto-friendly lunch options for a big law firm helped calm the nerves she felt when she thought about the fact that she’d offered herself up on a giant silver platter to a man with wicked intentions in his eyes.

  Her feet stumbled as she carried an empty cooler through a revolving door and back to her van. Stowing it inside, she took a moment to perch on the bumper, drawing deeply from her water bottle.

  Five more hours. Was she insane?

  She contemplated that for a long moment as she wiped sweat from her brow and let the cool water soothe her dry throat.

  Theo liked to talk, and while part of his warning about John had simply been to let Meg know that his friend was a player and wouldn’t stick around, the other part...

  The other had been meant as a cautionary tale, a story of how John was into control, dominance, being on top, however you wanted to put it.

  While she was still irritated with him for presuming that she wanted his opinion on the matter, Theo had, in his weird but loving way, meant to demonstrate that John was not someone Meg would be interested in.

  Theo had been wrong.

  Yes, she was nervous about what would happen tonight, but more than that, she was excited. She certainly wasn’t going to chicken out, not when she knew, knew right down to her soul, that this next week was going to be something she looked back on when she was eighty and cackled over with glee.

  Screwing the cap back on her water bottle, Meg’s certainty faltered for a second as she tried to picture John as a senior citizen, charming all the ladies as he stomped around with his walker. Would he look back on this week with the same warm memories? Would he even remember?

  “Doesn’t matter,” she reminded herself as she swung out the back of the van. Closing the doors firmly behind her, she circled the vehicle, then lifted herself up into the driver’s seat.

  She might just be the next in John’s line of women, but the spark between them was real. Why shouldn’t she act on it, sow some wild oats before they went their separate ways next week?

  Busywork complete, Meg couldn’t hold back the tsunami of reflection as she pulled out into traffic. Downtown Boston was hideous to navigate at any time of day, but driving her massive van was like steering the Titanic, and cars tended to get the hell out of the way when they saw her coming, leaving her with plenty of time—too much time—to think.

  She was twenty-seven. Most women her age had already gone a little wild, usually right after high school or during their years in college. College hadn’t been a financial possibility for her or any of her sisters, and she hadn’t had much time to party, either.

  Beth had been sick, and medical bills were like quicksand, pulling them all down into the mire. Mamesie, a single mom, had n
eeded help supporting the household and raising the girls, and as the eldest, that responsibility had fallen to Meg.

  She didn’t begrudge any of the years she’d spent helping, but she was maybe a little wistful when she thought of the ways her sisters had gotten to be young, ways in which she hadn’t because she’d been the normal daughter, the one who held it all together—the one who could be relied on, the one who never made a fuss.

  But now...now her family had some breathing room, and she wanted to gulp in great mouthfuls of air. She had a healthy libido, and she liked sex, even though, in her experience at least, most men tended to be greedy lovers. Greedy, or willfully ignorant. The last man she’d dated had insisted that it was impossible for a man to find the clitoris since he didn’t have one. The day she’d broken up with him, she’d helpfully printed out a diagram for him, coloring the area in question in with a highlighter.

  She snorted at the memory.

  “You’ve earned this.” Checking the clock, she saw that her countdown was now four hours, and a small shudder of anticipation ran through her.

  Something told her she wasn’t going to have to print out a diagram for John. Hell, she’d been on edge last night, just from having him between her thighs as they talked about what they were going to do.

  She’d have been lying, too, if she said she wasn’t feeling a little bit smug to be the one he was focusing on right now. She’d seen how other women reacted to him, but he’d chosen her.

  Of course, the sheer number of women who noticed him was why Theo had been warning her in the first place. But ultimately...did it matter? They’d set limits. One week and done. Of course, he’d move on to someone else after. She would, too—she’d make sure of it.

  She liked John—really, truly liked him as a person. But that didn’t mean she planned to join the ranks of women mooning around after he’d left them. Yes, she would move on after.

  Move on with a clearer understanding of what she wanted. She was the good girl, the good daughter, and she bet that Theo would never have been able to imagine what she had planned for tonight. Not that she’d want him to, because ew. But still. It felt good to have a dirty little secret even if she could hardly believe it herself.