by Liz Crowe
The guy frowned, then his face broke into a perfectly natural smile, setting Dustin back on his heels. “Dude.” He came out from behind the counter, holding out a hand. “Sold. I like your style. And that one,” he nodded toward the swinging doors between the store and cold storage, “is back there waiting for you, best I can tell.”
Dustin opened his mouth to refute the charge, but closed it. Trevor slapped him on the shoulder. “Don’t be a pussy, Prufrock. It’s not like you. Of course, if you’d rather I…” Dustin leapt out from under the guy’s hand and strode back to the doors, focused on one thing only, every nerve ending he possessed on fire with anticipation.
Fury pounded in her ears as she glared around the giant cold storage room. While she took notes on her phone on the various products Trevor’s store needed from TriCity, the realization that Dustin had decided to sabotage this last sale of the day kept her pulse racing. What was his fucking problem? Granted, they kept dancing around the edges of flirtation, both pulling away at the last minute, and she’d convinced herself to avoid him. To get this last deal done, head home, and hide from his charisma, his money, power and charm forever. It was that or risk heartbreak, she just knew it. Guys like him did not give two shits about girls like her. Once they got what they wanted from you, they were gone, back to the country club and the skinny girls.
She took a deep breath, tried to clear the lusty cobwebs from her brain and turned. Dustin grabbed her arms, walked her backward toward a huge stack of wine bottle cases against the wall, his face mere inches from hers. She bit the inside of her cheek, tried to resist, to call on some reserve of sanity. But he was in her space, overwhelming her inner logic, and she loved every minute of it. “You are amazingly frustrating,” he whispered, putting both hands on either side of her face.
“No I’m not. You’re just obsessed by something you can’t have.”
He grinned, igniting the smoldering pile of lust she’d been nurturing all damn day. No man on the planet should look this good, be this rich and…smell so damn great. She shut her eyes, loving the feel of his entire body pressed against hers. Lips touched her cheek, her jaw, her neck, making her gasp and reach for him. But he gripped her hands and held them over her head against the cardboard. Cold air swirled around them, but nothing would cool the heat now. “Dear God, Helena, you are…” She sighed as he kept her wrists captive overhead and let his other hand cup the back of her neck. “I need to kiss you more than I need to draw a breath.”
“Then what are you waiting for?” She opened her eyes and let him pin her with that incredible green gaze. “An engraved invitation?”
“Mmm…no, not that exactly.” He let his hand wander down, caress her face with his knuckles, down her neck, rest lightly on the tops of her breasts.
Stop him, dammit. Don’t be this girl, Helena. Remember? He only wants what you won’t give him. When he gets it he’ll be history. But God help her, his touch burned, made her squirm with need. When he ran his thumb over the hard peak of her nipple through the thin bra and silk shirt, she shivered, letting a little whimper escape her lips. He kept his touch soft, light, noncommittal, making her crazy, teasing in a way no one had ever done to her before. He shifted, pressed a thigh between her legs, and she gave up in a burst of pulsing erotic energy, tugging her hands free of his grasp and grabbing his face.
“I see I have to make the first real move here,” she said, her voice raspy with lust. “Fine. You rich boys are all alike.” She smiled then touched her lips to his just as he groaned and buried his hands in her hair and met her halfway in a tongue-tangling kiss that left her gasping for air. He pressed into her body, making his arousal clear. She broke from his lips, loving the sensation of his hands all over her, his sheer command of the moment and her own seeming inability to resist.
Reaching down, she unzipped him, fisted his hard, velvety flesh, loving the smell and taste of his neck, the rasp of his stubble against her cheek. “Fuck,” he muttered as she moved her hand up and down his impressive length. “You weren’t kidding about first moves. Better not, unless you’re…oh God.” He groaned as she swiped a thumb across his head, using the natural lubrication of his desire to make him shudder. His next kiss had a life of its own, firm, in control, but wildly perfect. He lifted the edge of her expensive skirt and ran a hand along the lacy scrap of panty she’d managed to soak in the last few minutes. He found her clit, teased it, keeping his lips and teeth on her neck. Without even realizing it she raised one foot, propped it on a nearby overturned beer keg, and thrust her hips into him.
“Yes,” she hissed as he increased his speed and pressure. “I’m…oh my God…” The orgasm shocked her with its speed and intensity, forcing her to let go of his cock and grip his shoulder as her entire body was engulfed in spasms. “Shit, Dustin…” He raised his eyes to hers, held her captive as he put his hands on her waist, lifted her up higher against the wall and propped her there.
“Dear God, Helena, I don’t know what you’ve done to me but if I don’t get inside of you in the next few seconds I may kill myself.” His voice was low, throaty, and made her ache for that very thing.
“We can’t. Dustin, we’re in a goddamned beer cooler. Oh. Yes.” With a single stroke, he filled her, shutting off her protests with the force of his lips, of his body inside hers. He pressed in deep, his pubic bone grinding her clit, his hips moving slow, easy, as if they had all the time in world. He stared into her soul, shoved in deep once, then again. She clutched his shoulders as her world exploded around her in a shower of forbidden pleasure. He grabbed her leg, bent it up before whispering, “I’m coming, Helena. Come with me. Now.”
Helena would count back in her life to pivotal moments, and this split second, when she gave in and let herself enjoy him, let him take her in a beer cooler while their client waited for them to emerge, would be the one that burned bright and clear for her forever.
Dustin groaned, let his brain disconnect as his body took over. The nearly overwhelming urge he’d felt all day—hell, all week—then given into as he followed her back here had spurred him on, made him do the kind of thing he usually avoided in public. But right now he regretted nothing. The taste of her lips, her skin, the feel of her body under his hands and now, enveloped by her completely—it was worth all the getting-caught-in-the-act potential on the planet. His vision darkened. He saw nothing but her as he gripped her hips and experienced the sort of epic release they wrote about in books.
They quieted, his arms still propping them against the wall of cardboard, her breathing hot on his neck, the smell of her filling his nose. He groaned as she eased herself up and off him. He zipped up fast, tugged her into his arms, unwilling to let her go. Her whole body shook but he kissed her hair, her forehead, whispering words not even he heard, anything to calm her and keep her here with him, forever.
She looked up at him, her deep blue eyes shimmering. He gulped, afraid he’d messed it all up, taking her like this, in public like some kind of horny sailor on shore leave. “Sorry.” But she smiled, shook her head and disentangled herself from his embrace. He already felt bereft and alone, although she stood not a foot from him. A gnawing anxiety took hold in his chest. His head spun, clanged with warning bells, but he helped her rearrange her skirt and blouse. “Really.” He tilted her chin up to meet her eyes. “Not really sorry. Not in the slightest. Would do it again, if given the opportunity, actually.” She blushed. It was the moment he knew he loved her.
“Let go of me, dammit.” She stepped away, lifted her dark blonde hair off her neck. Dustin ran a hand down her check, unwilling to break the connection.
“So, tonight. Dinner? Drinks? A movie? A baseball game? Opera? Sitting at the kitchen table and talking? Book Club meeting? I’ll do anything you want. You know, tonight.” He tried not to grin like an idiot.
“You look like a guy who’s just gotten laid in a beer cooler.” She ran her hands through her hair, arranged her shirt once more and turned away from him. His heart san
k. But the tremor that he felt run through them as he pulled her back and kissed her one more time told him all he needed to know. That whole tough-girl façade was just that. And frankly, he liked it as long as he got to see the soft, mushy center every now and then. And as long as he was the only man who got to see it. Ever.
“I am that guy. And you are that girl. And I want to be these people some more.”
She kissed him back, but broke away, forcing him to release her. She gripped his biceps, her blue gaze piercing and serious, but the expression on her face was one he’d pay money to see again and again. “Okay, okay, back off a second. Give a girl some space.” She tucked his shirttail in, ran her hand up his chest, cupped his chin. “I’ll go out first. You stay back here and pretend…oh, whatever you want.” The tough-girl inscrutable face was back in place. He grinned and stepped back, running a hand down his face, getting an intoxicating nose full of her all over again.
“Fine. But I mean it. About tonight.”
She looked over her shoulder. “I’ll think about it.” She turned then, crossed her arms and stared at him. “What makes you think I want you around anyway? I mean, I got what I wanted you know.”
He laughed, stuck his hands in his pockets. “Yeah, me too. But now I want more. And you don’t seem like a fuck-and-run kind of girl to me.”
“How would you know anything about me?” Her face got red, jaw tight. He stepped close, put his finger against the pulse beat of her throat.
“I don’t know nearly enough about Helena Turner. But I intend to find out, and soon. You game?”
She looked away. “Maybe. Maybe not. I’ll let you know.”
He smiled and held the door open for her, his whole body still pulsing with the aftermath of their encounter. Just as she was about to step out of the cold, he grabbed her arm, slanted lips over hers, loving it when she molded against him once more. “Don’t take your time. I don’t like waiting.” He nipped at her earlobe. She palmed his zipper, making him sigh into her skin.
“Like I said,” she whispered back, “I’ll let you know.” She smacked his ass on the way out, leaving him to ponder the possibility that he may very well be in love with the most challenging woman in the world, or at least in the Midwest. He took a breath and shut the door, letting her lead the way out and pretend they had not been back here fucking each other’s brains out.
Helena strode out, head high, shoulders squared. But the second the door swung shut behind her she collapsed into a chair by a big metal desk. Her knees simply would not hold her another minute. Her ears were hot, her palms sweaty, her thighs slickened with the results of their hookup. Je-sus H. Christ, Turner, what have you done? She put her head down on the cool surface and tried to calm herself.
Way to let the captain of the football team fuck you in the backseat of his Camaro. She groaned, shifted, tried to deny how sated she felt. How goddamned amazing Dustin Prufrock was. And how much she had to get the hell away from him. But a small voice still tickled her brainstem. This could be fine. A physical relationship with a great guy is allowed. You’re both grownups. Not married so not hurting anyone else by enjoying each other’s bodies. And what a body. She shivered, recalling how perfect he’d felt inside her.
She sat up, hearing a buzz near her ear. The store sounded busy so she stayed put another few seconds gathering her thoughts and emotions, or at least pretending to so she could stand the near two-hour drive back home with him in her car. She smiled to herself, imagining pulling over, letting him do what he obviously did so well again. And again.
She pep-talked herself into a milder form of panic. One she could get her mind around. Her body was languid, but somehow revved up, ready for more. She stood, looking for a bathroom to clean up a little, when the buzzing sounded again. She put her hands on the desk, feeling around for a phone. She picked it up stared at it, trying to understand the photo on the screen. Once she realized it was not hers, it was too late.
The picture was of Dustin. Undoubtedly. Smiling, his green eyes alight, with his arm around a thin, brittle-looking brunette. A brunette who was holding up her left hand boasting what looked like a zillion-dollar diamond. On her ring finger. The name on the screen—Valerie Masterson.
Helena gasped, dropped the phone back on the desk top, hand to her mouth. Her face burned hot. Holy shit. He’s engaged? To Valerie fucking Masterson? Heir to the grocery fortune. As in “Mastersons” the giant chain of national grocery stores. And you just let him… She whirled around at the sound of his footfall behind her. He ducked and barely missed getting brained by his own smart phone. It hit a box and then the floor, still intact.
Brushing past him, she grabbed it and shoved it in his face. “You colossal asshole.” She kept her voice low. The warm wetness coating her thighs now did nothing but piss her off. She grabbed tissues from a box nearby. “Stay the hell away from me.”
He stared at the screen, put a hand over his eyes then looked at her. And God help her, she almost believed the remorse in them. Yeah. Right. Rich boy getting whatever he wants, remember?
“Helena, this is…” He stopped, his hand held out as if to touch her. She stepped back again, putting another couple of feet between them. The goddamned tears threatened but she forced them away.
“Bad timing, on her part it seems.” She pointed at the phone he had clutched in one hand. “But you know, I still hadn’t made up my mind about you. Now.” She reached under her skirt, used the tissues to swipe at the moisture between her legs while staring at him. “I have.” She tossed them into the trash and walked out without another look back. The hole that had formed in her chest yawned, aching and empty. She gritted her teeth. You are not in love with this guy. Get a grip. But her head pounded as she breezed past Trevor and out the door, unwilling to speak lest she burst into lame-ass girlie tears.
She stopped by the car, realizing all her stuff was still inside, including her phone, keys and handheld ordering computer. Putting both hands on the top of the car, she shook with fury, remorse and missed opportunity. A touch on her shoulder made her jump.
Dustin held out her keys, phone and computer. She took them without a word, unlocked the car door and threw all the other stuff into the backseat. He stood, blocking her as she tried to shut the door after climbing in. She was mortified, horrified, embarrassed and more furious at herself than she had ever been. “Move, please,” she ground out, not meeting his eyes. He stayed put. “I’m gonna shut this door on your leg in a minute.” He crouched down, grabbed her arm, but she pulled out of his grip.
“Helena, please can you let me explain?”
“No.” She stared straight ahead. To think she’d nearly convinced herself to get into some kind of…what? Fuck-buddy relationship with this jerk? Oh God. She put her head on the wheel.
“Look at me, dammit.” His low voice buzzed through her brain, lighting weird little lusty fires that she tried to jump on and tamp out.
“Why should I? So you can turn those pretty boy eyes on me again? Maybe I’ll spread my legs for you again, before you head back home to Valerie?” she spat.
Heaving a teenager-worthy sigh, he stood. “Okay, well, not that you’re gonna listen or anything, but here is the scoop. At this moment, yes, I am officially engaged to Valerie Masterson. But something happened to me exactly five days ago that solidified a decision I’d made already.” She scoffed, unwilling to even acknowledge him. Afraid for herself because she knew she was halfway to being in love with the guy. “My engagement to her was to placate my parents. My mother, actually, who would not get off my fucking back about running the brewery and not working with my father in the food supply business. It was a pact with the devil and trust me when I say breaking it will not be easy.” He crouched back down, yanked her chin around so she had to face him. “But I’m going to. For you.”
“Yeah right. Nice try.”
He frowned. “You are the most aggravating…” He looked down, then back up at her. Her heart lifted at the intense, honest
feeling in his eyes. But the picture ghosted across her brain again. Dustin, and the skinny rich bitch with what was undoubtedly the Prufrock family jewel on her finger. He’d been with her. And probably not in a beer cooler. A combination of raw jealousy and embarrassment nearly choked her. “But I want you. Not her.” He kept his voice light but she sensed his stress, could already read his body language. And that scared her more than anything.
“Get away from me. Now,” she ground out.
He shrugged and stood, stepping back. She slammed the door shut, turned the key so hard the Toyota’s engine screamed in protest.
She looked up when he rapped on the passenger side window. She rolled it down just enough to hear him. “Unlock this. I can’t get in.”
She smiled, but the pain in her chest almost paralyzed her. “That’s the general idea.”
“Helena, be reasonable. Even if you don’t believe me, you can’t leave me here.”
“You said it yourself, Dustin. I’m aggravating, frustrating and I have the car keys. Goodbye.” She started to roll up the window, then stopped. “Call Valerie. I’m sure she’s not too busy shopping to come pick up her asshole cheating fiancé.”
Dustin frowned at her. “She’s not here. She’s…” He sighed. “In Europe.”
The ugly laughter that burst from her gut hurt, but she let it fly. “Of course she is.” She rolled up the window, threw the car in reverse and left him there, a solid two hours from home. It took nearly an hour to stop sobbing and, by the time she pulled into her apartment parking lot, her whole body felt empty, reamed out and useless.