“Okay, I liked it a whole lot. But I also told him not to do it again,” she said since she was being honest and baring all the finer points of the evening to him.
“Why the hell would you do that?” He stared at her as if she were insane for denying herself the pleasure of having Wes’s mouth on hers again. “You let him kiss you, you admitted to enjoying it, so why are you sabotaging the chance to have a little naughty fun with a guy who clearly turns you on?”
She popped a piece of her banana nut muffin into her mouth and chewed for a few seconds, giving herself a bit more time to formulate that good ol’ argument that always put her attraction to Wes in perspective. She swallowed, took a drink of her latte, and explained.
“I’m not trying to sabotage anything. I’m trying to be . . . smart.” She set her paper cup on her desk and reclined in her chair. While everything that had happened with Mitch had messed with her head, and she was still trying to repair the damage to her heart, there were other factors to consider. “Wes is my brother’s best friend. They work together, and if we started messing around and it ended badly, it would put a strain on their relationship. I don’t want to be responsible for that. Besides, despite that kiss last night, Wes has always kept me strictly in the friend zone . . . or more recently, the frenemy zone,” she said humorously.
Richard slid his hands into the front pockets of his trousers and tipped his head to the side. “First of all, who says your brother has to know that you’re doing the dirty with his best friend? Clearly, if Wes is keeping you in the friend zone despite the fact that I saw him eye-fucking you yesterday morning at the coffee shop, then I’m betting he’d be down to having a discreet fling with you if you showed interest. It’s a win-win situation.”
“Are you advocating that I have an affair with Wes?” And that’s all it could ever be with a commitment-phobic guy like him. Just sex and pleasure . . . and no emotional involvement on any level. She wasn’t in the market for another broken heart, and that’s what Wes did best.
“If he batted for my team, I’d be all over that fine ass,” he said, and Natalie laughed. “Seriously, though, you have two entire weeks of opportunity, so why not take advantage of it? Think of him as your rebound guy after Mitch. A hot, no-judgment palate cleanser of anything-goes sex before you get back into the dating game.”
Natalie bit her bottom lip as certain body parts tingled at the thought of having anything-goes sex with Wes. She couldn’t believe she was giving Richard’s suggestion serious consideration, but his reasoning made sense. She hadn’t been with a guy since her breakup with Mitch, and if she was honest with herself, Liam couldn’t compete with the feel of a hot, hard man pumping his cock inside her or the decadent stroke of a tongue across her nipple, the sharp bite of his teeth in tender places . . .
Richard smirked at her as if he’d been privy to the arousing images filling her head. “You’re thinking about it, aren’t you?”
“It’s an appealing idea,” she admitted, and thought about the next time she was going to see him. “He wants me to be the hostess, a.k.a. a glorified maid, for his poker game with the guys on Friday night. I wouldn’t mind getting even with him for making me go on that Ferris wheel last night, and get him a little hot and bothered in the process and see how it all plays out.”
“Oh, I definitely have a few suggestions that will get a rise out of him,” Richard said with a devious waggle of his brows, then shared his fun, sexy, outlandish ideas that would either make Wes want to throttle her or would change their relationship from frenemies to red-hot lovers.
She suddenly couldn’t wait to find out which it would be.
Chapter Seven
Wes wasn’t sure what to expect as he opened the door for Natalie when she arrived Friday evening right on time at seven o’clock—a half an hour before the guys were scheduled to arrive for the poker game—but it certainly wasn’t the tantalizing French maid costume she’d worn that immediately sparked a dozen dirty fantasies and instantly made his cock hard as granite beneath the fly of his jeans.
Ho-ly shit, was the only coherent thought he could form as he stared at the woman who was going to be the death of him. And his dick.
The classic black-and-white maid’s dress was cut so damn low in the front that if he leaned a bit too close, he was certain he’d fall right into that soft V of cleavage, courtesy of some kind of amazing underwire bra that had her tits pushed up high, and a generous amount of pillowy softness showing above a white, lacy bodice. The outfit cinched tight along her torso, along with a frilly white apron, then flared into a short little skirt that ended mid-thigh, with layers of white ruffles peeking out from beneath. With a pair of black stiletto heels on her feet, her stunning legs looked endlessly long, and he couldn’t stop imagining them draped over his shoulders or wrapped around his waist. Either scenario was hot as fuck.
“Are you going to let me in, or did you change your mind about needing me tonight?”
Amusement tinged Natalie’s voice, and why not, considering his jaw had been literally hanging open in shock. He shut his mouth and lifted his gaze back to her face, not missing the daring glint in her brilliant blue eyes that told him she was going to make his life hell tonight. He was supposed to be the one in charge and calling the shots with this bet, but he should have known that this minx would put her own special twist on tonight’s request to be a hostess at the poker game.
“No, I haven’t changed my mind,” he said, and opened the door wider for her to enter. Somehow, someway, he’d deal with her fantasy-inducing costume. “Come in and I’ll get you started on things in the kitchen.”
She sashayed past him into his house with a satisfied grin on those pink, glossy lips he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about since their kiss two nights ago. Knowing the layout of his place since she’d been there before, she headed in the direction he’d indicated. He followed her, watching the luxurious fall of her dark, wavy hair bounce against her back with every step she took.
“What do you want me to do first?” she asked when they arrived in the kitchen and she turned around to face him.
How about getting on your knees, parting those soft, fuckable lips and . . . Shit, shit, shit. Wes shut down that train of thought before it could fully form and forced his attention to the prep work he had waiting for her.
“You can put those bottles of beer in that steel tub and cover them with ice so they’re cold when the guys get here,” he said, pointing to the items he’d left on the counter, while trying not to let his gaze drop below her chin . . . and God, it was so fucking hard not to give in to that male instinct to take another peek at the lush swell of those breasts that were taunting him. “And I bought some appetizers that you’ll need to put in the oven to heat up so they’ll be ready about eight. Everything is in the freezer drawer at the bottom of the fridge.”
“Okay.” She walked to the refrigerator in those fuck-me heels, and with her legs deliberately locked straight, she bent at the waist to open the freezer drawer to retrieve the items.
He watched in fascination—God, he couldn’t look away even if someone was holding a gun to his head—as the hem of her skirt rode up, flashing him with the creamiest expanse of thigh and black silky panties smoothed over the curve of her luscious ass. His shaft throbbed relentlessly, and swallowing the groan rising in his throat, he made a quick executive decision to save what was left of his rapidly dwindling sanity.
“You can’t wear that outfit tonight,” he blurted out.
She set the prepackaged appetizers on the counter, her eyes wide with a feigned innocence. “Why not?”
He braced his hands on his hips. “Your brother is going to flip his shit if he sees you in that risqué costume.” Connor had always been protective of Natalie, even more so since that asshole ex of hers had cheated on her. This situation did not bode well for Wes at all. He could feel it in his gut.
“That’s your problem. Not mine,” she said without concern for his well-being
when it came to her brother’s displeasure.
She bent at the waist again as she looked through the bottom cupboards until she came across his baking sheets, and thank God she straightened before he could give in to the urge to run his palm over her perfectly toned ass she was waving like a red flag in front of a horny bull and maybe slide his fingers between her thighs and along the silky crotch of her panties while he was at it . . .
He exhaled sharply, which did nothing to subdue the agitation building inside him or ease the sexual frustration tightening around his balls like a vise. “How do you figure it’s my problem?”
She turned his oven on to preheat, then opened a package of pizza rolls and dumped them onto one of the baking sheets. “You wanted a maid, so I’m going to look and act the part.” She shrugged her shoulders, causing her breasts to jiggle enticingly.
His jaw clenched so hard it hurt as he watched her casually cut open a bag of frozen buffalo wings and arrange them on another tray. “I said a hostess, not a fucking French maid.”
She glanced at him, a dark brow arching derisively over those bewitching blue eyes. “Yeah, well, considering what you want me to do tonight—cook, serve you guys, clean up your messes afterward—being a maid is a more apt description. Besides, I didn’t bring anything else to wear.”
He was desperate enough to get her out of that distracting costume to offer up his own clothing. “I’ll give you one of my T-shirts and a pair of sweats.”
She added the jalapeño poppers to the last baking sheet and tried to hide what looked suspiciously like a devious smile as she looked his way again. “Since this costume has a built-in bra, I’m not wearing one, and I don’t want my breasts bouncing beneath a thin cotton T-shirt.”
Neither did he, and especially not in front of Max, Kyle, and her brother. Jesus, she was killing him. Daring him, as if she knew he couldn’t handle her traipsing around in that skimpy costume without thinking about all the filthy things he wanted to do to her while she wore the French maid dress.
He hated that she was winning this battle of wills, but since there was no changing her mind, or her outfit, he was forced to yield this round to her.
“Fine,” he said, though he did have one concession to add. “Just please stop bending over in that costume because it flashes your ass.”
The little tease batted her lashes at him. “I’ll try not to.”
She went to work putting the bottles of beer into the tub to fill with ice. Since Wes was done torturing himself, he went back downstairs to the basement that he’d turned into a man cave about a year ago, complete with a home theater system and a dedicated area set up for their monthly card game. He’d purchased a custom-made poker table with built-in chip racks and drink holders, and he started setting up for the game while listening to Natalie as she moved about in his kitchen upstairs.
At seven thirty the doorbell rang, letting him know that the three other guys had just arrived together via Uber, since there was no telling just how much alcohol might be consumed over the course of the evening. Wes bounded up the stairs to let them in, but his too-efficient hostess beat him to it. Good thing he’d told the guys that Natalie would be handling the refreshments and anything else they needed for the evening because of the bet. However, her outfit would undoubtedly cause an initial stir, and he prepared himself for the backlash.
She’d just opened the door as he came into view, enabling him to catch each man’s response to Natalie’s sexy ensemble. Max’s eyes widened in surprise, Kyle gave her an appreciative once-over—the fucking asshole—and her brother, Connor, stared at his sister in confusion, which quickly evolved into disapproval.
Connor’s brows snapped together in a frown as he addressed Natalie. “What the hell are you wearing?”
Her fingers played with the ruffled hem of her short dress in a self-conscious gesture no doubt designed to gain her brother’s sympathy. “Wes requested a maid for tonight’s game—”
“Not a maid. A hostess,” he corrected, but the less derogatory term didn’t seem to make any difference to Connor, who’d shifted that unsettling gaze on Wes that spoke a loud and clear what the fuck, dude?
“I’ve got your appetizers in the oven,” Natalie said in a cheerful tone. “You guys head downstairs and get settled in, and I’ll bring everyone an ice-cold beer.”
She spun around, causing her flouncy skirt to swirl way too high and expose way too much thigh as she returned to the kitchen. Once again, Wes was privy to each man’s response as they watched her retreat. Always the respectful gentleman, Max’s features were amused. Kyle was intrigued, and Connor was now openly glaring at Wes as the trio walked inside the house.
“Are you fucking serious, Wes?” Connor said in a low, hissing voice as they all headed down to the basement. “I can’t believe you made my sister wear that ridiculous costume. It’s so short you can almost see her ass, and her boobs are falling out of that nearly nonexistent top.”
Wes opened his mouth to issue a reply—mainly that the outfit hadn’t been his idea or suggestion—but Connor wasn’t done with his rant.
“I know she lost the bet and the two of you are constantly trying to one-up each other, but objectifying my sister like that is not cool, man.”
Kyle snickered at the reprimand Connor had just delivered, and Wes shot his instigating friend a dirty look. He thought about defending himself, but at this point, he was certain that Connor wouldn’t believe him, anyway, if he told him that his sister was yanking his fucking chain or, rather, jerking his dick. It certainly felt that way.
So, he let it go, hoping that Connor would calm down after a beer, or two or three.
The poker table was set up for their regular game of Texas Hold ’em, and after everyone was settled in their seats, Wes dealt the first two cards. They all picked up their hand, checking what they had before tossing out their initial bet. He placed three more community cards face up on the table just as he heard Natalie coming down to the basement, along with Kyle’s low, muttered Jesus that prompted Wes to glance up to see what had captivated his friend’s attention.
Voluptuous tits and gorgeous legs, that’s what had Kyle so enthralled. Max’s and Connor’s backs were to the stairs, and they were both studying their cards, but Wes and Kyle had a direct view of the temptress descending the stairs, carrying four longneck bottles of beer—two in each hand. It was like watching one of those slow-motion movie scenes as her long hair billowed around her shoulders and her breasts bounced in time to each careful step she took in those impractical high heels.
“Damn,” Kyle said beneath his breath, prompting Connor to glance across the table at him to see why he’d cursed.
At least Kyle was smart enough to immediately look down at his cards, and it was a good thing, too, because Wes didn’t want to have to gouge his friend’s eyes out for ogling Natalie’s finer assets. And when the hell did he become so possessive about a woman who wasn’t even his? He was fairly certain the answer to that question was the moment he’d kissed her on the Centennial Wheel and she’d opened her warm, sweet mouth and kissed him right back . . . not as a friend but as a woman who was as hot and hungry for him as he was for her.
Yeah, that kiss had been a game changer, causing a definite shift in their attraction, and he couldn’t deny that despite every reason he had to keep his mouth off of hers and his dick tucked away safely in his pants, it was getting more and more difficult to deny just how badly he wanted her.
As they placed another round of bets based on the cards in their hand and on the table, he revealed another card while Natalie set a bottle of beer in each of their drink holders that were built into the table. As she rounded behind him, he realized what a fucking fantastic hand he held—five cards of the same suit—and anted up once again.
“Wow, it’s quite hot in here,” Natalie said as she passed by Wes again, pulling his head out of the game as she fanned herself with her hand. “In fact, I think I’m flushed. Anybody else feeling flushed?”
What the hell? Did she just give up his hand?
“I’m out,” Max said as he put down his cards, the half grin on his face telling Wes that, yes, Natalie’s comment had definitely influenced his decision to fold instead of tossing another bet into the increasing pot.
“Me, too,” Connor chimed in, followed by Kyle.
Wes glanced at Natalie with a frown, and she gave him a guileless little shrug. No doubt about it, she’d just sabotaged his hand. When she did it a second time, making an odd remark about straightening his chips, the guys immediately knew what hand he was holding. Max and Kyle folded, but Connor upped the ante and won with a royal flush.
As he shuffled the deck, Wes gave Natalie a pointed look. “Don’t you have appetizers to attend to or something?”
“Sure, I could go check on them.”
He caught the mischievous gleam in her eyes before she started back up the stairs. He didn’t even want to know what had prompted that look, but he was immediately suspicious. Once she was gone, he breathed a sigh of relief and dealt the next hand.
“I have to say, it’s quite amusing so see a woman get the better of you,” Max mused out loud as he picked up his cards.
“How so?” Wes asked, refusing to verbally admit that Natalie was in the process of outwitting him tonight with her clever pranks. First the French maid costume, then her comments that gave away his cards. What else did she have in store for him?
Max shrugged. “Just that women are usually falling at your feet or blinded by your charm, which makes them easy for you to influence.”
“Or manipulate,” Connor chimed in after taking a drink of his beer, seemingly still a little peeved over the risqué maid outfit.
“Yeah, that, too,” Max agreed with a grin. “Natalie, on the other hand, has no problem thumbing her nose at your rules and doesn’t take your crap. She knows how to keep you on your toes and doesn’t seem too worried about consequences.”
Big Shot Page 6