by Eden Summers
“I’ll be back in a sec. Behave while I’m gone.”
He needed a bathroom break.
An Ella break.
She wasn’t the only one who needed to sober up. The alcohol heating his veins spewed some pretty crazy shit into his mind.
Jesus Christ, he could fucking taste her with every swallow.
Good news was, he hadn’t thought of his family. Not until now, when his lust dissipated with each step.
He hadn’t contemplated why his dying mother couldn’t gather a glimmer of affection to call her only child to say goodbye. He hadn’t pondered why his father hadn’t picked up the phone—now or in the past months. He didn’t think about how the two people who were supposed to love him the most hadn’t given a fuck about him at all, because his concentration kept focusing back on Ella with pinpoint precision.
He shoved into the bathroom, stood in front of the basin, and stared at his reflection in the dirty mirror.
Something wasn’t right.
Lust had never felt like this before. It had never started in his chest and worked its way down.
At the bar, he’d tried to convince himself it was the alcohol, or the sob story about her husband that pulled at his usually non-existent heartstrings. This was supposed to be about Ella finding someone to fuck. It was about getting her to participate in the demonstration. It was about business. But in here, facing himself, it became harder to live the lie.
He liked her. He fucking liked her. “Damn it.”
He ran his hands through his hair, entwined his fingers at the back of his head, and placed tight pressure on his skull.
This was Tera’s fault. In one phone call, she’d fucked with him, messing with his head in so many ways he couldn’t think straight. She’d reminded him of his childhood, and how he’d once believed in happily-ever-afters and all that naive, fairytale bullshit.
It had to stop.
He couldn’t do this to himself.
He couldn’t do it to Ella.
She had baggage. Issues.
The appeal didn’t make sense. Yet, it was there, building from a molehill into a mountain, right before his eyes, and there was only one way to make it stop.
Chapter Fourteen
Pamela waited until Bryan disappeared into the bathroom before she slumped against the bar and released her pent-up nervousness in an audible sigh.
This was hell. She wasn’t entirely sure which of the nine circles she currently resided in—either lust or greed—but it was hell nonetheless.
Not only did she have to continue the let’s-get-me-laid charade, she also had to pretend she wasn’t sliding headfirst into deeper feelings for a man who’d made it clear he was off limits. She’d even stooped to the low of bringing up her late husband in the hope the tragic topic would break the early descent into puppy love.
The diversion hadn’t worked in the slightest. The conversation had only achieved additional respect for a man who seemed to have more layers than puff pastry.
He’d listened to her. He’d comforted her with soft, simple words. And when the conversation became too emotional, he’d shut it down in typical Brute fashion, which made the depression instantaneously vanish.
Now, leaving wasn’t an option. Being alone in a car with him was too much of a temptation to her diluted sanity.
She wanted Bryan.
She wanted Brute.
She wanted whatever she could extract from the big grizzly bear of a man and didn’t care about the consequences.
“Hey, sugar.”
She glanced from her empty glass to find another flannelette-wearing cowboy at her side. He was broad, tall, and tanned, with an uber smirk to boot.
“You look like you need another drink.”
She gave a false smile. “I’m fine. Thanks.”
He inclined his head. “That you are, but I insist.” He knocked his knuckles on the bar. “Bartender, get this pretty lady a glass of bubbles.”
Bubbles?
“I, um…” That went against rule five-hundred and fifty-five in the Brute’s Fuck Buddy Guidebook—a potential lover should nail your drink order before he nails you.
A mini bottle of champagne cracked open before her, the contents poured into a slim flute. She should’ve declined with more enthusiasm. Should’ve, could’ve, would’ve if numbing mindlessness wasn’t a mere drink away. Tomorrow, she’d pay for mixing drinks. For now, she’d take whatever relief she could get.
“Here you go.” He lifted the glass from the bar and handed it over. “Something sweet for someone sweet.”
She cleared her throat. “If you came here looking for timid and cute, I’m not your girl.”
“You’re the naughty type?” He eyed her with lust-filled appreciation. “Tonight is my lucky night.”
A laugh escaped. She couldn’t help it. In a game of hot and cold, this guy was so far from getting lucky he’d need a snow suit.
“I can’t believe a woman as fine as yourself would be out on her own.”
“She’s not.” Bryan came up behind her. “Take a hike, buddy.”
“Bryan.” She snapped her head around, scowling. “You don’t have to be rude.”
“My apologies. I didn’t realize this was the type of guy you were looking for.”
Was intoxication playing tricks on her, or did he seem unmistakably jealous? Her stomach flipped, and all the liquid she’d consumed went with it in a nauseating roll.
“Hold on a minute.” The cowboy held up his hands. “She was sitting here on her own. I didn’t know you two were together.”
“We’re not,” they spoke in unison.
“Right.” The guy retreated a step. “I guess looks can be deceiving.”
Heat crept up her throat, soaking through her scarf.
“We’re leaving.” Bryan stared at her, demanding compliance.
Shit. He must have finally cracked the code on her not-so-subtle feelings.
“Sugar,” the cowboy started. “If you’re in trouble—”
“Trouble?” He thought she was in danger? From Bryan? Okay, so maybe the brute was clenching his fists and breathing heavier than normal, but that was only because she’d broken her promise not to fall for the commitment-phobic jerk. “No. I’m okay. This is what he’s like. All bark. No bite.”
Bryan growled. Actually growled.
“We’re leaving,” he repeated. “Unless you want to hang around with a guy who doesn’t give you the respect of finding out what you’re drinking. But, hey—” He shrugged. “—I’m sure he’s a keeper. You’ve got great taste in men, after all.”
She scoffed and downed half the champagne in one fast swallow. He itched for a fight—she could see it in the flash of anger in those deep blue eyes. She had no plan to leave him unsatisfied.
“My taste in men shouldn’t be any of your business.” She shoved from her stool and wobbled with the landing.
“Fucking hell.” He flung out a hand to catch her.
“Don’t speak to me like that.” She slapped his hold away and got in his face, allowing his dark, masculine scent to mess with her senses.
“Then stop doing stupid shit.”
She heard the words, and the only thing that sunk in was his protection. His authority. His claim for territory. No. The alcohol played tricks on her.
She stepped back and turned to Mr. Cowboy. “Sorry ’bout that.” She snatched her clutch from the bar and put the champagne flute in its place. “Thanks for the drink.”
The guy’s eyes widened. “You’re leaving with him?”
Yes. No. The answer didn’t matter because she couldn’t think without fresh air.
She hustled outside, her short, sharp toe steps making the support of her stiletto heels unpredictable.
“What the hell are you doing now?” Bryan followed, keeping a thankful yard of distance between them on the sidewalk.
“Leaving. Isn’t that what you wanted?”
His fury tickled the back of her neck in the fo
rm of a snarl. She hated that noise. Hated it so much her pussy contracted and released enough times to mimic an orgasm.
“When it comes to you, I get nothing I want.”
His retort hit her like a slap across the face. She swung around, teetering again, her heels producing the same stability as cooked spaghetti. “Then what do you want, Bryan? Tell me.”
He crossed his arms over his broad chest, making his jacket gape and the material of his shirt temptingly tighten over the muscles beneath.
Oh, dear God.
The entire world conspired against her attempts to dislike him. Every time she erected blocks to combat the attraction, he’d shove them down again in one mighty Hulk smash.
“I want you to fucking listen.” His breath came in exhausting huffs. “I’m trying to show you how to find a guy who deserves you. Someone who’s going to give a shit about what you want. And the minute I turn my back you’re hooking up with Cowboy Bill.”
“Hooking up?” Hooking up? “He offered to buy me a drink. I declined. And he didn’t take no for an answer. I didn’t even take a sip of the champagne until you came back and inspired the need for alcoholism.”
He glared, those blue irises harsh with menace.
“Come on.” She sighed. “What’s this really about?”
“You know what this is about.” The words grated through perfect teeth, across lush, smooth lips.
She wanted to nod and confirm that, yes, this was about feelings neither one of them could ignore. This was about something more than friendship or sex or the Vault. This was about sparks and connection and heart-clenching emotion.
“This is about needing a demonstration assistant,” he snarled. “That’s all this has ever been.”
Her nose tingled, throat pinched. “I know that.” But she hadn’t. Not really. She’d tried to forget. She’d ignored the entire purpose of them being together while becoming overrun with the allure of romance.
Again.
This was Lucas on repeat.
“Good,” he snapped.
“Great,” she mimicked.
He approached, getting in her face. His nostrils flared, his lip curled. “Fucking perfect.”
She’d never wanted to kiss him more. The thrill of having his beard scratch against her mouth, her neck, her breasts. Her heart thundered. Her throat pinched tighter. She whirled on her toes and escaped in the opposite direction, the click, click, click of her heels a panicked staccato.
“God, I wish I knew why you were such a grumpy jerk.” She approached the edge of the building and turned into the darkened parking lot, remaining close to the brickwork in case she needed the support.
“Slow down. You’re going to wind up on your ass.”
“Stop it, okay?” She glared over her shoulder. “Stop the back and forth. The Jekyll and Hyde. The kindness and severity. I’m sick of it.” Her ankle rolled, the sharp twinge of pain shooting up the outside of her leg. She tilted, the threat of falling on her butt replaced with something even more threatening—his hold.
He grabbed her, tugging her against his strong chest and lunging her into the brickwork. She was boxed in, caught between two layers of cold sterility. But that wasn’t what stared back at her. Those blue eyes weren’t barren. She could see everything peering down at her—his affection, his lust, his hopes for the future. Then, in a blink, they disappeared.
“Jesus Christ.” He held her upright, keeping her caged. “I never should’ve brought you here.”
Regret took over his expression. Annoyance, too. Her delusional fairytale of what they’d shared became tarnished by the frustration staring down at her.
“I’m sorry.”
His brows pulled tight. “Why?”
“I don’t know.” A breath shuddered from her lungs. “I feel like I need to apologize. I’ve never offended anyone as much as I seem to offend you.” She had to keep talking, if only to make sure he remained nestled against her, his warmth finally sinking in. They’d never been this close. Not emotionally. “I guess I lost sight of this being about your job. I began to think we were friends.”
His body relaxed.
No, it deflated. His shoulders slumped, his face fell. “You don’t offend me, Ella.”
“Then what is it?” she whispered.
He turned his head away, the tension building in his frame until he loomed over her as he focused on the street.
“Bryan?” She reached out, her fingertips tingling the closer she came to his beard-covered cheek. Her palm slid over the coarse hairs, and everything inside her crumpled. She’d never touched him. Not like this. Not with her heart in her throat and her feelings exposed in the brief connection.
She guided his face back to hers and pleaded with her eyes. “What’s this all about?”
The hardness of his jaw became more defined. “It’s about wanting to fuck you. I’ve gone insane for the last five hours, fighting the need to get you under me. And the five days before that.” He stepped forward, squeezing her tighter between the hard wall of the building and the harder wall of his chest. “Even before that, Ella. Since the first night I touched you in the fucking locker room.”
Hope took the reins and ran. Everything inside her ignited, emotions and body parts all combusting to cause a mass of burning, tingling flesh.
She had to kiss him. Had to taste those lips and feel them devastating hers. And that was exactly what they’d do—devastate her. Destroy her. Because one passionate kiss would be so much more than she’d had from her husband.
He rocked into her, the solid length of his shaft making itself known against her pubic bone. She couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. All she could do was become ensnared as his mouth called her name like a siren’s song.
She smashed her lips to his and immediately drowned in the intensity of his reciprocation. His hand flew to her hair, sliding over her scalp, holding her close. His arm wrapped around her waist, squeezing life back into her. Every part of him touched her. Every inch of her body remained at his mercy, while his tongue parted her lips and delved deep.
He took over. Made her hyperventilate. All with one kiss.
With only his beard, lips, and teeth.
When he pulled back, they both panted into the small space between them. “We should get out of here.”
She nodded.
His hand left her hair, snaked down her arm, and entwined with her fingers. He didn’t acknowledge the intimacy, didn’t even look her in the eye anymore. Instead, he turned and led her to the car, not stopping until they stood at the passenger door, his free hand poised on the handle.
He remained close, frozen against her, as if the world had stopped for them to have this moment. At least that was how it felt, until comprehension dawned.
“You can’t drive, can you?”
He released her hand and wiped a rough palm over his mouth. “I’ve had too much to drink.”
He remained pressed against her, the teasing torment of her feelings flickering between them like rapidly igniting sparks. She tried to think of a sensible way out of this situation. Something that wouldn’t leave her broken tomorrow. But want and need fried those rational thoughts, leaving her alone with the chemical imbalance driving her to clutch his shirt and pull him closer.
“Do you want to catch a cab?” She lifted her clutch over her shoulder and placed it on the roof of his car.
A lifetime of racing heartbeats measured the seconds they remained close, the intoxication rapidly leaving her system in a passion-induced detox.
“You know I don’t.” His touch returned to her hip. “Not yet.”
The pulse of his dick nestled against her. The thickness, the length, made her salivate. She couldn’t budge. It wasn’t the inescapable cage of his arms. It was his nearness. His proximity. The promise of more.
“Are you sure you want to do this now?” he asked, his breath drifting over her cheek, inspiring exhilaration, goose bumps, and nausea in overlapping doses.
She wa
s entirely wrecked by this man.
“Are you sure you want to finish this here?” He nuzzled into her hair, his nose teasing her neck, his beard scratching her skin. He gripped her chin, guiding her gaze to his penetrating eyes while his thigh parted hers, his weight pinning her to the car.
“Yes.” The word was a breathy exhale. “Here. Now.”
He ground into her, tearing a whimper from her throat. He was already so close to fucking her, a mere unbuckle of his belt and the raise of her dress. She could sense how cataclysmic the penetration would be. How perfect. But… “I’m scared this isn’t going to end well.”
She needed his reassurance. Craved it as much as she craved his cock.
“Doesn’t matter. We both know this is inevitable,” he countered, gripping her dress.
She couldn’t stop him. There was no will. Her body gave her no choice.
All she could do was stare into that fierce face as he focused on her with pure ownership and lifted her hem. Inch by inch, the tight material crawled up her body, exposing her flesh with agonizing lethargy. The cool night air seeped into her thighs, her hips, her sex. And still, those eyes pinned her, reading the reactions she tried to hide.
He released the fabric to bundle at her waist, then slid his hands down her bare skin, searing the flesh he touched.
“You weren’t lying about not wearing underwear.”
“I have no reason to lie to you.” She could’ve laughed at the hypocrisy. She’d been lying to him all night. This afternoon, too. She’d lied about her feelings. About her intent. She’d lied and lied and lied. Even to herself. “This dress doesn’t look anywhere near as sexy with visible panty lines.” She lied again. The lack of underwear had been to tease him. To see if he was affected by her the way she was by him.
“Well…” He grinned. “I’ve never appreciated honesty more than I do right now.” He gripped her chin, demanding her attention. A gentle fingertip glided over her tingling lower lip, the connection more painful and emotional than anything she could’ve expected.
Her insides waged war. Half of her screamed to take all she could get. The other ached to tell him what another kiss would mean. To make him understand. Even though nobody else ever had. Not even her mother or Kim.