No Romance Required

by Cari Quinn

  Cory glanced away, but not before his stolen glance at that curvaceous part of her anatomy made him so hard so fast he didn’t even have time to curse. Jesus. Victoria didn’t make him aroused. Ever. That was statistically impossible.

  He was overtired, that’s all. Too consumed by the conversation he’d just had with his parents, and his no-show photographer—

  Speaking of the photographer, if Victoria could get service, he should be able to now as well. Cory whipped out his phone. Voilà. Actual bars.

  So why was he continuing to listen to her phone call instead of making his own?

  “I’m just worried about you,” Victoria went on. “If you’re hurting, you need to make sure you ease back. Boinking blond triplets does not qualify as relaxation.” Her laughter made Cory smile in spite of the erection from hell he was currently sporting. “Enough. TMI, dude. I’m serious. You need to take care of yourself. I need my big brother strong and healthy.”

  The low plea she’d added to the end of that statement made Cory take a few steps forward, until he caught himself. What was he going to do? Comfort her? Him? He didn’t even know what was wrong. Even if he did, he didn’t console people. No one snuggled with work-obsessed CEOs when they were…crying.

  Oh fuck, was she crying?

  She’d ended her call and now stared out into the night. She’d bowed her shoulders and sniffled a few times, then seemed to gather herself enough to answer her ringing phone. “Hey Jill. Yeah. I’m at that stupid gala thing.” Cory frowned. His gala was not stupid. Okay, so it was technically Dillon’s gala, but still. It was for charity, for pity’s sake. “No, it’s totally lame. I mean, the cause is great. I donated and offered some stuff up for auction. But the rest? The pasta salad was full of peppers. Not just green, but red, too. And the table arrangements? I think some people from the hardware store put them together. You and I and Alexa would’ve come up with something way better. Ugh.”

  Cory narrowed his eyes, his concern evaporating. Sure, if she didn’t have a hand in decorating something, it wasn’t up to snuff.

  “No, I know. I’m just in a mood.” Victoria rubbed her forehead, her slim gold watch sparkling from the twinkle lights that ringed the gazebo. “I have something to take care of tomorrow. Yeah. That. I’m just so tired of being like this. Exhausted. Afraid.” He frowned at the idea that Victoria ever got frightened about anything. Impossible. She seemed fearless. “Sometimes it’s really overwhelming having to hide things all the time,” she added in a near-whisper.

  What exactly was she discussing? Perhaps she had a secret lover? He knew he shouldn’t eavesdrop. He also knew he couldn’t leave yet.

  She talked for another moment before slipping her cell into her tiny purse. Her heavy sigh lingered on the breeze, wafting over him much like her voice. Then she turned, already moving quickly, only to look up, see him, and come to an immediate halt.

  “What the hell are you doing here?”

  The exasperation that flashed over her beautiful features was a relief. He really hadn’t wanted to be put in the role of confidant, not when she’d insulted his pasta salad—those peppers had been perfectly robust, even if she couldn’t appreciate them—and his flower arrangements. And his gala, period.

  “I’m on a nature walk.” Smiling thinly, he reached up to adjust his lapels. “There are slim pickings inside, so I decided I’d head down to the water tower and see who I might come across.”

  He’d poked that sore spot of hers intentionally. She’d been caught making out with the captain of the football team at the water tower in high school and people still joked about it. Small towns were like that. If you did something notable—or even better, notorious—be prepared to hear about it until everyone in town alive at the time of the incident died.

  It seemed like a low blow, but there was a method to his madness. Better to annoy her than to hear her start sniffling again.

  Victoria cocked her head. “Oh? You didn’t bring a date tonight?”

  “No.” He tucked his hands in his pockets as he walked up the steps of the gazebo to join her. He figured, what the hell? Sparring with her always got his blood pumping. His work could wait. “Neither did you, it appears.”

  “I didn’t try to arrange one.” The diamond stud in her nose sparkled madly, somehow matching her subtle air of irritation.

  Cory lifted a brow, almost unconsciously moving closer to her. She smelled as earthy and mysterious as the grounds that surrounded them. That woodland fragrance always teased his senses, drenching him in her whether or not he wanted to be. “And you’re assuming I did?”

  “You’re just the boring—oh, I’m sorry—traditional type who usually avoids attending social functions alone.” She grinned up at him. “What will the masses think?”

  “You honestly think I give a whit about public opinion?”

  “Honestly? Hell fuck yeah.”

  He stepped forward before he registered the impulse, his pelvis brushing against hers unintentionally. She went still, then her witchy eyes flickered up to his. “You’re not serious. You’re actually ha—”

  “Don’t say it.” It had been a tactical mistake to move so close. He gripped her arm, hoping that would silence her mouth.

  No such luck.

  “Oh, let’s discuss this. You have an erection. A nice-sized one, too, from all appearances.” She tapped her fingers against her glossy mouth and stared in the vicinity of his painfully aroused groin. “Could it be that you’re attracted to me, a real, flesh-and-blood woman? Have you ever enjoyed one of those?”

  Her line of questioning skirted way too close to the conversation he’d had with his parents. This notion that he couldn’t get a woman made his blood boil. He certainly could. He’d even go so far as to say he could get just about any woman he wanted, at least for long enough to make it worth both their whiles.

  Even this one.

  She moved into his space again, getting right in his face with help from her ice-pick heels. “Not that I can compete with the vixens in your daily life. C’mon, what’s sexier than spreadsheets, projections, and ooh, those long, hard calculations—”

  He stepped closer and she fell silent. His entire body pulsed with tightly leashed need. For her. She’d pushed him to this point. Had been pushing him for way too long. Why not take what he wanted for once? Besides, if she kept talking, his brain would simply explode.

  So he shut her up the only way he knew how—he kissed her.

  …

  Cory’s lips were on hers. Softly molding, gently pressing. His tongue, tasting of fruit and mint and him, twisted around hers, toying with her flesh the way she now wished he’d play with her tightly beaded nipples. And between her legs? Complete forest fire, no extinguisher needed. She’d brought her own moisture, thank you very much.

  Holy fracking fuck, she wanted him.

  Then the jerk pushed her back and rubbed his wrist over his mouth. It was an oddly sensual gesture, the way he brushed her taste away while his smoldering silver eyes told her he wanted to taste every part of her. Slowly. Thoroughly. Until she died from the pleasure.

  She was already halfway there.

  Still, she knew better. Cory might be as delicious as sin and twice as hot, but he was also a workaholic who thought being emotional meant springing for a Hallmark card on holidays. Even though she wasn’t some spineless chick who was looking for a man to prop her up, she still had feelings. She waged a daily battle against the ghosts of her past that wouldn’t quite stay gone, and she was mostly winning, through lots of hard work and attentive self-care. That meant minimizing contact with disruptive influences.

  Like Cory Santangelo. His wavy dark hair, gunmetal gray eyes, and sinfully sexy body added up to a lethal package. His cunning brain and razor-sharp wit only magnified the potential destruction.

  Getting involved with a guy like him—even just sexually—was a one-way ticket to a train wreck, especially for a girl with mommy issues and a desire to be in a relationship with
a guy who…actually knew how to have a relationship. And that wasn’t taking into account potentially jeopardizing their work relationship if they hooked up.

  Though, seriously, she’d never been smart before about men. Why start now?

  Vicky stepped forward, her only intent to get more of him. He held her back with two fingers lightly pressed between her breasts. Which he looked at, his gaze as heated as a caress, for a moment before he spoke. “Victoria, no.”

  What was she, a bad puppy? His clipped tone nearly killed the desire kindling in her belly. She forged on, pushing against his hand, smiling in triumph at the brush of his fingers against the side of her very appreciative breast. At least until he chilled her to the bone with his impervious expression.

  She might be horny, and so might his dick, but his head? Nope. Not engaged. Despite the fact that he was still breathing hard from their kiss, he didn’t want to want her, so to hell with the dictates of his body.

  Well, screw him then.

  She gripped her purse and turned away. “You know what? Never mind. We’ll just forget this ever happened. Your virtue will be safe from any further breaches from me, I promise. Now I bid you good-night.”

  She’d made it two and a half steps before he locked his hands around her waist and whirled her back to face him. For one startling instant, he stared down at her, a wild kaleidoscope of emotions ranging over his face. Fury, concern, amusement. Lust. Definite lust, overriding everything else. Now that he’d unleashed its full power, it practically emanated from his pores right along with his richie-rich cologne that made her eyes cross every damn day.

  Not that he deserved to know that she’d kind of had an underground thing for him since high school, in the sense that one had a thing for Bradley Cooper. Hot, utterly doable, but never gonna happen. Cory was her Brad Pitt, during Legends of the Fall days. Her—

  —ass was in his hands. Both of his hands. He had a full handful in each, and he wasn’t letting go anytime soon.

  She didn’t want him to.

  “Better?” he whispered against her cheek, pulling her up so that every part of her lined up just right with every part of him. The important ones, anyhoo. She let out a sound caught between a moan and a sigh at the thick length of his erection. She couldn’t think for the hazy longing that clouded her brain.

  “Much.” Her lips twitched as she looked up at him. “I don’t want to take advantage of you. Maybe you’re drunk.” He glowered down at her and his chest rose and fell in those heavy heaves that reminded her of a runner’s after a series of laps.

  His head dipped closer, so close she could smell the strawberries on his breath from dessert. She’d passed on the beignets and fruit, choosing instead to drown her sorrows in pricey champagne—sorrows about her impending visit to her mother in the group home and her worry about her football player brother’s injured knee. But it looked like she’d get to taste summer’s bountiful splendor right now. If he’d just lean in…

  “You’re a horrible tease,” he said. “How haven’t I noticed?”

  “Because I never teased you. We have a very somber, serious relationship.”

  “Except when you’re chucking priceless artifacts at my head.”

  Ah, the memories. “Stop arguing with my choices so much and we’d get somewhere. You, suit. Me, designer. My role doesn’t stop with picking out a pretty coffee table. You not only wanted me to set up the room shots, but also coordinate the articles that went with the layouts. As I understood it, my job was to create a lifestyle magazine without you having to oversee the placement of every cushion. You wanted to step back. So, yanno, do that.”

  “You tried to foist green furniture on me.”

  She rolled her eyes, trying to ignore his body pressed against her. Suggest one nontraditional sectional couch to the guy and you never heard the end of it. “It wasn’t green. It was olive.”

  “Whatever, it was ugly,” he said, not so subtly backing her toward the railing and the padded bench that ringed it. Her knees bumped the wood and she lost her balance, throwing her hands back against the railing to catch herself. She was about to stand up again when she caught the intensity of his expression and realized just how erotic a picture she made. Bent backward, breasts thrust high, straining against her bodice.

  Totally at his mercy.

  “So is this how you’re going to exact your revenge?” She tilted her head sideways, her hair slipping over one eye. “I may fight you.”

  Finally he smiled, if a momentary curve of lips could be called that. “I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

  Rattlesnake-fast, he pushed up her dress, his big hands dwarfing her thighs. His palms were so hot on her skin. Burning her up. He made a sound deep in his throat at the sight of her barely-there lacy panties. And then he stepped forward into the vee of her legs, shifting them apart so that he could kneel on the bench. With the difference in their heights, he was at the perfect angle to surge up against her, one hard thrust that took her completely by surprise. She gasped, not nearly satisfied with the contact through their clothes. Her thong wasn’t much of a barrier, but his tux sure was. He thrust again, making that same low, needful sound. Coaxing the same from her, louder and keener.

  She gripped the railing, arching into him, beseeching him without words to take her harder, to at least give her this if he wouldn’t go any further. She was already wet, the fabric chafing her at the press of his length. Oh God, was he thick, and harder than the wood she held on to for dear life.

  Still it wasn’t enough. How could it be? The friction of his strokes was fabulous, but there was too much material between them. Not even the glittering intensity of his gaze could erase that.

  “Now who’s being a fucking tease,” she said hoarsely, biting her lip in frustration at his parry and retreat.

  Cory said nothing while he ramped up his siege between her legs. Grinding deep, saturating the flimsy strip between them. He dragged her legs farther apart, then farther still, arching up into her while his eyes locked on her face as if he were cataloging her reactions to study later. She wouldn’t put it past him. She wished she could give him a little something in return, but in this position she couldn’t do much. Other than sliding up and down, which he seemed to enjoy. A lot.

  He bore down, leaning so close to her that his sweet breath wafted over her parted lips. She couldn’t take in enough air so now he offered her his. Her taxed lungs cramped and she flung her head back, the lights above blurring as he hit the exact right spot to stimulate her painfully swollen clit. Her nails scraped the wood, splinters slicing her skin. She didn’t care. He was moving faster, and she was moving too, bowing up so that if he lowered his mouth just a couple of inches he could take one of her achy nipples between his lips.

  And then he did, just one swipe of his teeth and tongue over the sensitive tip through her dress.

  The furor building inside her exploded, taking the last of her control with it. She didn’t scream, didn’t cry out. Just dragged her focus from those now-wildly-twinkling lights to fuse her gaze with his. All she could see were his pupils, so large and deep that she could fall into them and never want to leave.

  Cory Santangelo had made her come, mere feet away from where the party to celebrate his family’s charity still raged on. Talk about insanity. The best kind.

  She smiled. A kinda sucky, lonely night had turned around, after all.

  The silence that descended between them was absolute except for the competition to see which of them could breathe harder. She was about to reach down to repay the favor when he jerked back, his jaw going to granite. He shook his head, brushing off her touch as if she were a mosquito. “No. This is enough.”

  Questions sprang to her tongue. Denials. Even pleas. She wasn’t ready for her escape from reality to end, not after the day she’d had. Not when she remembered the long night alone she faced. But she had pride. She’d already thrown herself at the guy, encouraged by her fancy alcoholic enhancement, and that constituted
enough humiliation for one evening.

  She let go of the railing and sagged to the padded bench. Her thighs were still quivering. But her heart? That, thankfully, was already going cold, helped along by his indifference. “So go.”

  He’d taken two steps away when he seemed to realize what he was acting like—an actual dick. Not that such an unrefined word would ever leave his mouth. “We had a moment, now it’s over.”

  “Jeez, that’s beautiful. Should I cue my harp or do you want to grab your tiny one—” she glanced at his crotch “—first?”

  His jaw firmed. “Are you certain you’re all right?”

  Wow, did he actually care? “I’m certain,” she said, mimicking his cool tone. If he noticed, she couldn’t tell. “It’s all good. I got what I wanted, didn’t I?” She gave him a fleeting smile she so didn’t feel and waved her fingers. “Have fun in the shower.”

  And he would. He couldn’t have faked that steely erection, even if he’d managed to make her believe for a few minutes that he could see her as a woman and not just a thorn in his side.

  He stared at her for a moment longer, then nodded in his typical king-of-the-universe manner. “Very well. I’ll see you Monday.”

  “Sure.” She couldn’t wait for their twice-weekly magazine strategy session. Tons o’ fun.

  Still, he didn’t leave. He studied her, making her heated skin prickle uncomfortably. The throbbing flesh between her thighs didn’t really help her decision to be cucumber-cool, but she could adapt.

  By getting the hell out of there.

  She grabbed her purse and rose, stiffening at his retreating footsteps. She didn’t turn until she was sure he was gone. Then she gathered her long hair in a messy topknot with a band from her bag and took off before the night could get any worse.

  …

  Sunday found Cory in his office at Value Hardware, as was his routine. Normally he’d also gotten some sleep the night before, but after the benefit that hadn’t happened.