There was no use dodging now, and she was determined they would be honest with each other, no matter how much moments like these hurt. “Yes.”
“Right.” He pushed off from the wall and stepped back. Two feet of warm summer heat pulsed between them. “Everyone else in town did, so why not you.”
The shuttered expression, the emotional distance, dropping her hand. He was shutting down and she didn’t know how to get them back to where they were a minute ago. “I know the difference between fact and fiction.”
He shoved his hands in his pants pockets. “Did you read the handbook, too?”
“No.” And that was the truth. She had zero interest in reading a manual about his sex life with his ex. About his sex life with anyone but her. “I assume that part, whatever is in the handbook, is real.”
He shrugged. “In a sense.”
She had no idea what that meant. “Then I was right not to read it.”
He stopped putting more space between them. At her comment, he shifted, moving in closer as he leaned. “I’m not following you.”
“I wanted to get to know you and not the version of who you were when you were married.” Despite what he thought, she wasn’t looking for a good time or to reenact one of the more descriptive chapters. She wanted him, with her, alone and uncontrolled until neither of them could walk.
Voices grew louder as a group of young males headed into the cul-de-sac. With every stumbling step they took, she held her breath, sure being interrupted would be just the excuse Bast needed to run. When the guys broke into drunken laughter and a chorus of some song that sounded vaguely familiar, she stiffened and waited.
Tripping and wailing, they hit the first driveway and looked around. Then the shoving started. One after the other shouted about the “right address” but when the security light of the first building on the street popped on, the guys turned and took off.
And Bast wondered why she wasn’t interested in guys her age.
At least the light meant crisis averted. Now she had to figure out how to keep Bast engaged. She feared losing him now could mean losing any forward momentum.
But he didn’t step back. “Maybe the guy in the marriage and the guy in the novel are the same guy.”
No way did she believe that. He grumbled about the rumors of his sex life, but clearly missed the ones about him getting sick of a life he never wanted and getting out of the marriage rather than continuing with the fun. Kyra held on to those and hoped those strayed closer to the truth.
“Why did you leave your wife?” Inside Kyra winced at her clumsy delivery. The answer wasn’t really her business, yet it meant everything.
Bast didn’t squirm or get angry. He just stood there, calm and in control, just like the Bast she knew.
“How do you know she didn’t leave me?” he asked.
“As you said before, we know a lot of the same people. They talk.”
His control slipped a fraction as his eyes grew wide. “About my private life?” He threw up his hands. “That’s just fucking fabulous.”
To a guy like Bast, all proper and educated, having his sex life blared in headlines and people snickering as they passed around stories had to be a huge blow. She felt for him but she had no idea how to make it better. Not yet. Not while they were apart. But she did know what she wanted. “Also, so we’re clear, I don’t have any interest in threesomes or sharing you with anyone else.”
He went still. “What if that’s my thing?”
“Then I’m not your girl.” Everything, all her plans and how much she ached to be with him, depended on his next response to keep the dreams alive and breathing.
“Kyra . . .” He adjusted his glasses even though they hadn’t moved. “Look, we—”
“No. Don’t feed me a line.” She rushed to stop whatever awful thing he might say to kill her attraction. “And don’t try to scare me off, because I don’t think you’re interested in threesomes either.”
“That comment makes me wonder how much you know about men.”
“Enough to keep one satisfied.” She waited for the disappointment to skate across his face but his expression stayed the same.
If anything, the corner of his mouth lifted just a bit. “That’s quite an answer.”
No name-calling or prodding for information. It was a nice change. The guys she dated before expected her to be virginal yet somehow experienced. To deliver the perfect blowjob yet never have given one before. The sexual double-talk struck her as ridiculous and immature, and she expected more from Bast.
Fact was she grew up knowing while men focused on her body, she could use her mind to wallop them. Her father brought her on jobs back when she was in her early teens and put her in situations she pretended she could handle. Or he did until Wade found out she’d started in the family crime business and threatened to rip their dad apart.
While her upbringing wasn’t one she ever would have chosen, she refused to shut down her sexual side now. She didn’t have Bast’s vast experience, but she’d been around enough to know what she did and didn’t like. And how to make a grown man squirm.
Her fingertips traced the line of his jaw. “I could show you what I want from you.”
“In the parking lot?”
“Just a taste.” Whether she could stop there was the real question. Forget the street noise and club looming behind her. She’d been dreaming about kissing him, touching him, for so long she didn’t know if she could stop once she started down that road.
“You actually think it will end there?” he asked, sounding stunned at the possibility.
Looked like she wasn’t the only one doubting her control. If he could step inside her body and feel the tremor shaking through her, he’d know how much of the act consisted of bluster and spit.
“I’ve told you my terms. Made it clear the next move is yours.” When his eyes narrowed and his feet started shuffling again, she wrapped a hand around the back of his neck. “But I’m thinking you may need an incentive.”
“You are very wrong on that score.”
At least he’d stopped denying. It would be nice if he threw the switch and started acting, but she’d take the lead if she had to. “You’re the city’s king of negotiation, right?”
He chuckled. “Not the title I’d use, but let’s say yes.”
She blocked the sexy smile playing on his lips and the whir of a siren through the neighborhood. “Here’s my argument.”
She didn’t hesitate or wait for him to make a move. She swooped in, with both hands on his cheeks and her mouth falling over his. Kissing him long and deep, she let the aching she fought off each night seep into her cells and burst to life against him.
At first he stood still, his shoulders straight and his head slightly dipped from the force of her palms on his face. Then he shifted as his hands moved over her. Along her back and down her spine to tighten on her ass. A second later a hand clenched against her hip and brought her body tight against his.
The heat spiraled around her as the force of his need drove her hard against the wall behind her. Those fingers danced over her clothes, burning a path until she feared the material might catch fire. When she broke away to steal a breath, his mouth followed and covered hers again. His lips traveled and his tongue dipped inside her mouth to mate with hers.
Dizzy and short of breath, her world spun until all the blood left her head. His fingertips brushed the side of her face while something tugged at her skirt. The warm night breeze caressed her legs as her skirt slid higher on her thighs and a deep, almost rusty groan vibrated against her lips.
The haze cleared long enough for her to feel the trail of his fingers over her skin. She opened her legs a little wider and those knowing fingertips brushed against the thin fabric of her tiny panties. She was wet and ready, and the lace proved no barrier to his searching hand. A finger ran
along the seam between her legs, pushing the cloth inside her. The rough friction against her sensitive flesh had her gulping in air.
She could smell her body readying for him and feel the hard steel of his erection against her stomach. A warning flashed in her head, something she needed to remember but couldn’t grab onto.
Then as quickly as the kiss turned nuclear it, along with all the touching, stopped. Their rough breathing filled the air as the sounds of the city floated back to her. The cars and low mumble of voices in the distance. They stood in the open, shielded by a wall and fence but little else. Despite that, her control faltered and she almost grabbed him close again. Probably would have if he hadn’t dropped his forehead to rest against hers.
His chest rose and fell as his words pushed out in staccato beats. “Jesus, I’m practically fucking you in a parking lot.”
“Not quite.” But so close and with all the passion she’d hoped he kept chained up inside him. “I guess that confirms the attraction goes both ways.”
“Hell yeah it does.” His breath rumbled as the words blew over her hair.
She laughed but the sound cut off as reality came rushing back and smacked right into her stomach with enough force to double her over. The club, the security. The cameras. Without meaning to, they were giving Becca a show.
Kyra tried to clear her throat but something stuck there. “We should . . .”
“What?”
If she told him about the unintended audience, he’d balk. Might even leave the state on a trumped-up work trip to stay away from her. She could not allow that. Not when they were so close.
Kyra pushed the potential surveillance video out of her mind. She’d deal with the ramifications and her new boss later. Right now she had to deal with the stunned man in front of her. “You okay?”
He kept his head balanced against hers and shifted his weight so his lower body lifted away from her, but not by much. “My hand is still inside you.”
“Was.” She already missed the warmth of his touch.
At her words his hand slid over her upper thigh. Another tug and he freed it from the tangle of her skirt and let it drop to his side. “Admittedly, your argument about us being together is persuasive.”
“Good.” In his frenzy to touch her, the material of her skirt had wrapped around her hips. Hitting him with an accidental elbow, she pulled and yanked until she brought the edge to a respectable length again, or at least one that didn’t show off the tiny straps of her lace underwear.
“You’re killing me here.” He pulled back and watched every move, every shimmy. “I’m ten seconds from throwing you in the back of my car and putting my mouth all over you.”
She heard the clunk as her lungs shut down. A list of very sexy possibilities ran through her head. She could go for it like her lower half begged her to do or she could build the excitement. Her body screamed for the first choice but she knew that would lead to quick and dirty sex, the type that happened once, and she wanted way more than one time with him.
Inhaling as much air as possible and hoping the oxygen would feed her brain cells, she brushed her hands against her skirt one last time and straightened her shoulders. “I should go.”
“What?” He practically yelled the word in her face.
For some reason his rapid blinking and shocked tone told her she’d made the right decision to step away now in favor of something bigger later. “Good night.”
She tried to pivot around him on shaky legs but he caught her arm and held her close. For a second he didn’t say anything. Just stared and frowned and generally telegraphed an I’m-not-happy vibe.
“You’re leaving now?”
The word “no” popped into her head but she pushed it out. “Yes.”
This was the right answer. He needed time and she needed a few inches of space. Stretching their time together into more than one night meant making him understand wanting him and falling into his bed when he blinked the right way were two different things. A slight distinction, maybe, but one that mattered to her.
“Is this some sort of game?” His fingers tightened on her arm, not to the point of pain but firm enough to hold her attention. “If so, you should know I fucking hate games. I had enough during my marriage to last a lifetime.”
Kyra pulled his fingers off one at a time. “Honestly, Bast. I’ve made this pretty easy for you.”
“I don’t think you’re easy.”
Not what she meant, but she’d take it as a compliment and move on. “A woman wants a man to work for it. Just a little.”
He shot her the same look he might have given if she’d grown a second head out of her armpit. “That’s nothing more than a waste of our time.”
With one last deep breath she took her stand. “It’s your turn.”
“To what? What are we even talking about?”
The poor thing, with his dropped eyebrows and frown, looked truly confused. As if women usually just stripped off their clothing and climbed on top of him when he flashed that crooked smile. If they did, she didn’t want to know.
Through the attraction zipping between them and the lingering memory of that heart-stopping kiss, she knew he’d only move forward if she doubled back. “Getting what you want will mean more if I don’t just fall in your lap.”
He treated her to a second round of staring without talking. Finally, he let out a huffing breath. “So that we’re clear, you will eventually crawl into my lap if I ask you to, right?”
Lap, chair, bed, kitchen floor. She’d dreamed about every scenario. “I will do whatever you want—and I mean whatever—so long as we’re together one-on-one. No one else.”
After a brief hesitation, he lifted his hand. He didn’t pull it back. It just hovered there between their bodies. “If the goal was to gain my undivided attention, I promise you have it.”
About time he noticed her as something other than Wade’s baby sister or a petty thief’s daughter. Still, it wasn’t nearly enough. “I want to be your only.”
“I thought I followed you until right there . . .”
The whole clueless-guy thing didn’t really suit him. She saw the gate come down and the heat leave his eyes and decided she liked the commitment fear even less than the cluelessness. “You’re a really smart guy, Bast. I have every faith you’ll figure it out.”
His arm dropped without reaching out or touching her. “Why not work out the particulars now?”
Because one more minute and she’d be on top of him with her wet panties around her ankles. “Soon.”
Before he could argue or circle back and remind her of their age difference, she took a step. Her legs wobbled and her stomach flipped, but she forced her feet to move. His gaze burned into her back as she moved, but she kept going because she didn’t need another look. She already knew the truth: she was his.
THREE
Bast spent the next day in his office and on the phone, but the memory of Kyra’s hot mouth and the taste of her on his fingers picked at his concentration. Twelve hours of analyzing documents and attending meetings couldn’t extinguish his sudden pounding need for her.
He shifted in his chair and thought about routine things like mergers gone wrong and clients in trouble, but her face kept popping into his mind. Before now he viewed her as sexy but untouchable. Having trailed his hands all over her, all he could think about was what it would feel like to plunge inside her. And unless he’d lost his ability to read a woman or understand a conversation, she was offering him exactly that.
No wonder his concentration was so fucked up.
The sirens squealing on K Street eight floors below his corner office grabbed his attention. This area of DC played home to lobbyists and think tanks. He looked out the scaling windows and saw the red brake lights from lines of traffic. The prestigious business address put him in the middle of the action and impressed cli
ents as much as the pricey artwork on the walls in the reception area. He found that part of the game to be necessary bullshit, much like the big office with the leather couch and chairs.
The dark furniture, the walls lined with bookcases and that fancy Oriental rug his ex-wife had insisted he purchase all fit with his image as a powerbroker in a town knee-deep with them. He had an advantage. He’d grown up privileged, attended the right schools and married his college sweetheart.
He played the game right up until he committed the cardinal sin of getting a divorce. Then his proper father launched an all-out propaganda war that cost Bast his fancy high-end law firm job, though many in town thought the fight said something about the size of Bast’s balls. He capitalized on the support and spun it into a lucrative career.
Now he worked in an office he helped build and managed as a partner. One that thrived thanks to his billable hours and ability to wrangle his way through any situation. Even though he was a lawyer, he stayed out of the courtroom. Instead, he negotiated deals on behalf of his clients that he never dreamed he’d see.
Like his best friend, Jarrett, Bast dealt in information, most of it confidential and some of it top-secret. The type that would impress his old man, if they ever bothered to talk to each other.
Despite all the trappings and healthy bank accounts he’d stockpiled, all Bast could focus on at the moment was the raggedy blue bag with the ripped seams sitting next to his antique desk. Kyra dropped it last night on the walkway when she wrapped her arms around him. Now he had an excuse to seek her out on his terms.
He’d fought the temptation all night. Convinced his brain that his body was out of line and she was off-limits. Maybe he could blame the lack of sleep, but by morning he’d outlined an impressive “pro” list that included everything from “she approached him” to “he wanted to say yes.” The mere idea of taking Kyra up on the offer was dumb and self-destructive, two things he normally avoided, despite what his father might think. Being with her couldn’t lead anywhere and might alienate people he cared about, but he had to believe he could handle all those negatives.
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