No Romance Required

by Cari Quinn

  “Not that I want to be having this conversation with you, but we didn’t have sex. Just one of its many variations.” With that, she sailed past Dillon up the hall in search of her missing drink—and her missing lover.

  Crisis averted. For now.

  Chapter Eight

  Cory looked down at the drink in his hand and tried not to bristle at Victoria’s laughter floating across the living room. The guests made quick work of sorting through and boxing some family photo albums and had already moved on to the spiked cocoa and conversation portion of the evening, something Victoria approached with gusto.

  It was impossible for him to keep his eyes off her. She melded into the group so naturally, as if she’d always belonged. Her way with his family helped relax him as well, and he found himself making small talk and laughing much more than he usually did.

  Just glancing across the room and catching her eye, or smiling as she wiggled her fingers at him from behind her cocktail napkin, improved his mood. There was no denying that her presence had made this gathering more pleasant. Tonight the buzz under his skin was desire, not discomfort.

  Now she perched on the sofa between his mother and stepfather and seemed to be having a grand time sans her fake boyfriend. She’d flitted around him but essentially had avoided getting too close since they’d left the bathroom.

  He swirled his brandy and considered her, unsurprised by the telltale tightening in his groin. Her about-face had taken him by surprise, especially since she’d been revving pretty hard herself and he hadn’t had a chance to reciprocate. Then again, if she’d decided he was some kind of pervert, maybe she’d resolved to seek her sexual solace elsewhere.

  There was a reason he didn’t have a bevy of bed partners beyond his packed work schedule. He couldn’t share his proclivities with just any woman and be certain she wouldn’t gab to the wrong person. Despite her hesitation and his verbal assertions to the contrary, he’d believed Victoria could be the right one. At least for this. Since she refused to see reason enough to keep their relationship platonic, why not push the boundaries a bit?

  It wasn’t as if he needed to play submission games all the time. But Victoria had asked for his ultimate fantasy. It required total trust and would result in maximum pleasure for them both. He’d ensure that.

  Not that it would ever happen. She gave up control about as easily as he did. Still, a guy could dream.

  Or he could take action. There was more than one way to reach a goal after all, and a smart strategist always kept his eyes open for new routes. Maybe this one was it.

  He marched across the room and snatched her hand, drawing her with him so fast that whatever she’d been saying died on her tongue. “Sorry, darling. I need you.”

  “Oh.” She let out an uneasy laugh. “Okay.”

  She made her apologies to his parents before he tugged her away. He didn’t miss his mom’s and stepfather’s indulgent smiles. Just as well they think he was spiriting her away for another quickie.

  “What’s gotten into you?” she muttered as he dragged her into the dining room and shut the door.

  He leaned back and eyed her, sipping his drink slowly. Seeing her nervous sent a slow throb through his blood. An edge of fear made desire that much sweeter, and he could already see hers burning bright in her tawny eyes. “You’re avoiding me.”

  “I’m not.”

  Her answer was a little too swift, a little too heated. Just what he’d hoped for. He stepped closer and tipped up her chin with a fingertip. “Did I scare you?”

  He didn’t know what answer he preferred more. No…or yes.

  She shook her head and let out a tinkling laugh that didn’t soften the worry lines between her brows. “You couldn’t.”

  “I think I could.” His finger wandered up to the corner of her mouth before sliding along the fullness of her lower lip. Her involuntary jerk made him smile. “You asked me for my fantasy. I gave it to you. Honestly.”

  “I did ask.” Her throat bobbled. “I’m fine with it.”

  “Are you now?” His nail trailed along her lip and she darted a look up at him, full of trepidation. And arousal. There could be no missing that. “Have you ever submitted to a man, Victoria?”

  She jolted, stumbling back. He caught her with a hand locked around her wrist, holding her in place when he could tell she wanted nothing more than to retreat. But not just because she was unnerved. Excitement leaked from her pores, as fragrant as her earthy scent. “I…no. No, I haven’t. Not the way you mean.”

  “You’ve never been bound with scarves or handcuffs? Or even just hands on your wrists, pinning you until you begged for relief?” At her stubborn head shake, he trapped her racing pulse beneath his thumb. “Someone as adventurous as you living such a vanilla existence. You surprise me.”

  Her chin came up. “There’s nothing fun about someone restraining me.”

  “What if the restraints are all in your mind?” He pressed into her skin, knowing he would leave an indent. Wanting to. “And what if that someone was me?”

  She hissed out a breath and yanked her arm away. “I’m not into that. Sorry.”

  Even steeled for her reply, disappointment sheared through him. Until he saw her trembling lips and the way she couldn’t stop staring at him, as if he’d trapped fire in his gaze and she liked to play with matches.

  “I don’t believe you,” he taunted softly. “I think you’re wet for me. So wet you can’t tighten your legs enough to hide what I’m doing to you.”

  She tilted up her chin. “Why don’t you come here and find out?”

  If she expected him to refuse, she was sadly mistaken. He shoved her dress up her thighs, fisting the cotton at her hip as he dragged her closer to fuse his mouth to hers. She gasped, going soft and pliable against him while he licked his way between her lips. Teasing her tongue to come out to play with his in a deliciously hot tug-of-war that made the pulse in his cock turn into a crash of cymbals.

  He toyed with the knot at the side of her panties, coaxing a moan from her that flowed into him more sweetly than the dark chocolate from the torte they’d had for dessert. She drove her tongue against his, warring with him while he edged ever closer to the triangle of heat between her thighs. He could imagine all too well what she’d feel like as he sank into her. Inferno-hot, desperately tight. Her need spilling over his skin. Imprinting him with her scent just as he’d wished to do to her with his touch.

  “Your body can’t lie to me, even if your mouth can.” He rocked his hard length into her belly and absorbed the quiver that went through her with a victorious smile. “I’m breathing you in.”

  She huffed. Laughter exploded outside the door and he bit her lip to quiet her as she started to speak. “Shh,” he interrupted. “Don’t want to get caught twice in one day.”

  “Three times in two weeks,” she muttered.

  He smirked. “Three strikes and I’m in…if you play your cards right.”

  They stared—glared might’ve been a more accurate description in her case—at each other as the voices faded away, then Victoria swished her dress from his hands and stepped back. “I want a tour of the house.”

  Suppressing a sigh, he shut his eyes. The intimate fragrance of her desire had branded itself on his brain and he doubted anything would ever remove it. He ached to taste her. But he couldn’t, not right now.

  He set aside the drink he hadn’t finished. The brandy heated his throat and gut nicely, but he wanted his senses clear. He needed every one of them to deal with Victoria.

  “I’ve always loved this place. To me, nothing bad could ever happen here. Not like my parents’ house. Here it’s never been anything but warm. And safe.” She shook her head as if she’d just heard herself, then reached for his hand. He stared at her as if she’d thrown a hissing viper at his feet. “Show me?”

  He nearly said no. There was way too much in her eyes, and it called to him, arousing urges he’d never allowed himself to satisfy. She wasn’t number
s on a ledger that could be tabulated and eventually conquered. No rational, emotionless plan could outweigh all the very unrational needs she inspired in him with a look.

  Their fingers brushed. His stomach jumped and he spoke to distract himself from the riot of sensations her touch caused. “This is the dining room.” He cleared his throat. “We eat here.”

  She nodded soberly and tightened her hold on his hand. Instead of her grip making him want to pull away, he found himself moving closer. “Very nice.”

  He gestured at the cherry piece against the far wall. “Note the massive antique china cabinet that my great-grandfather built with wood from his own property. Also note all the dishes my mother’s going to have to lug with her across the country.”

  “You could take some of them.”

  “For what?”

  “To use with your own family some day, silly.” She squeezed his fingers and wandered closer to the cabinet. But it wasn’t the dishes that stole her attention. She snatched up one of the ornate scrollwork picture frames, her face softening as she studied him and Dillon as little boys, running through the backyard. “So cute.”

  He looked at the photo over her shoulder. They couldn’t have been any more than five and six. Dillon had a thicket of blond hair and Cory’s was as dark as the heavy black galoshes he wore. He was grinning at the camera, showing off a gap-toothed smile. Back then he and the Tooth Fairy had been on a first-name basis.

  “I was a damn fine-looking child, I’ll give you that.”

  “I meant Dillon.” She grinned and grabbed another picture. There were a lot for her to pick from, considering his mother had commemorated just about every moment of her sons’ lives until college. Even now she struck terror in their hearts when she whipped out her digital camera. “He was adorable.”

  Cory pinched her ass, making her yelp. “He’s taken. You had your chance.”

  “There was only one Santangelo brother I ever wanted to take my chances with,” she said lightly, not looking at him.

  He frowned, studying the blond curls that spilled down her back. Unrestrained and free, just like her. The exact opposite of him.

  Had she really wanted him before they’d tripped into this crazy pseudo-affair? Though there was nothing pseudo about the sex part of their arrangement. The lust between them was very real. And she’d been all too eager to claim at dinner that she’d never noticed him before a few weeks ago. More pretending?

  He encircled her waist with his arms. Holding her this way made her seem impossibly fragile. Almost breakable. “Since when?”

  “I like this one.” She traced her nail along the edge of a heart-shaped frame that held a picture of the boys at Dillon’s high school graduation. Dillon had a fauxhawk tipped in black for the occasion, and Cory looked suitably chagrined at his side. They’d both been in that awkward stage between boy and manhood, all gangly arms and legs.

  Not that anyone could tell with Dillon. He was grinning broadly and had his arm around his brother’s shoulders. He’d always loved the spotlight. Cory, on the other hand, looked ready to make his escape. Some things never changed.

  “I asked you a question.” He pulled her back against him so that the unmistakable hardness between his legs brushed her tight, firm ass. An image of those pale swells reddened from his mouth filled his mind and he released a long breath. “How long have you wanted me?”

  “What makes you think I meant you?”

  “Now, Victoria.”

  She turned to face him, still clutching his picture. “Ninth grade.”

  “What?”

  She shrugged jerkily and set the photo aside. “Now you know.”

  “But you hate me,” he mumbled, amazed he could speak at all. If she’d hauled off and punched him in the gut, he couldn’t have been more surprised. Or hurt.

  Why hadn’t she ever told him? They’d wasted so much time—

  Wait. Hold up. Wasting time indicated that another outcome had been possible. It wasn’t. It wouldn’t be.

  Her broken, brittle laugh cut him straight to the bone. “Let’s amend that. You hate me. Besides, you couldn’t see me after you’d been confronted with all of Melly’s tall, sleek lusciousness first. Don’t you remember that school dance where you mooned over her all night?”

  Actually, he didn’t. High school in general wasn’t a place he liked to mentally revisit. And school dances? Worst of the worst. Instead of getting laid at prom, he’d acted as a bookie for some of the other students. They’d heard about his golden touch with the horses, and his chances for post-dance sex had gone downhill after that.

  She leaned up to circle his neck with her arms. “But I bet you’re not thinking of how perfect Melinda is for you now, are you?”

  He wasn’t thinking about anything but getting her naked. And that wasn’t so much a thought as a primal command in his blood. “Melinda who?”

  Her laughter burst across his cheek, as frothy as ripples in the surf. “You know what I’d really like to see?”

  “The twin bed I used to plot world domination in?” He tugged on a corkscrew curl. “Because I sure wouldn’t mind putting some of your yoga skills to work so we could make use of it.”

  More laughter, softer now as she drew back. “No. The barn.”

  “The barn? It’s dark and foggy out. There’s a threat of rain.”

  Eyes dancing with mirth, she tapped her fingers against her mouth and swiveled back to the china cabinet. “Never mind. I’d hate to get all…wet.”

  “Hold it.” He snagged her arm and pressed close to her back. He’d never think to use a building that housed livestock for such a purpose, but he could see the possibilities. “Barn, you say?”

  She rubbed against him, sidling up and down as sinuously as a cat. “Uh-huh. Race you there.”

  “I don’t race. Women chase after me.”

  At her sniff, he grinned. Until she reached under dress and shimmied down the string-bikini panties he’d amused himself with a few minutes before. She drew them off her long legs, allowing him a glimpse of black, lace-topped stockings, and then pressed them into his hand. They were tiny and as red as her dress. And very damp.

  He stared at them while she walked to the door.

  “Not this woman. You know where to find me, CEO.”

  …

  Vicky clomped across the pasture, wincing at the mud squishing around her boots. She lowered her head, forging her way in the evening light toward the hulking dark structure. In the daylight, the maroon building looked as pastoral as the sprawling farms she’d driven past as a child. She’d always wanted to live on one, to have chickens to feed, maybe even a cow or two.

  And there would be kids laughing. She could hear them in her mind as she closed her eyes and reached for the barn door. Her kids wouldn’t have to worry about anything. They’d never wonder if one day their mommy wouldn’t come home.

  They’d never be right.

  The simplicity of such a life called to her, even though no one she knew would’ve ever believed it. She was the party girl, the one who danced on tables and lured hot businessmen away from family dinners for quick hand jobs in bathrooms and more—hopefully much more—in dusty barns.

  She pulled on the door and grunted in frustration. Dammit, it was locked. Now what?

  Sensing someone behind her, she whirled, unprepared for the sensation of Cory’s hot mouth coming down on hers. Her flirtatious response died at the first brush of his tongue, seeking and urgent on hers. He reached up to cup her breast, palming it while they devoured each other.

  “You forgot this.” He laid something cold against her throat and she jerked, her head involuntarily coming up. He latched his mouth on her jaw and lowered the cold thing, whatever it was, to one of the eager nipples budding through her dress.

  She jerked again, hard enough to almost knock them both over. And he laughed. Just laughed until she shut him up with a kiss that ended with him groaning and hoisting her into his arms.

  “Here.�
� He slapped the key in her hand and bent his knees, lowering her to reach the lock. “Get us inside.”

  It wasn’t easy. Her fingers felt thick and fumbly, and the early-fall chill had already seeped into her bones. By the time she fit it into the lock and Cory shouldered the door open, they were both shivering. Only mid-September and it already looked like they would have their first frost soon.

  The smell of hay and horses hit her first, bringing a sharp sting to her eyes. She’d spent time in this barn years ago, back when Cory’s mother had invited the Girl Scouts over for a field trip. They’d had two horses then, Midas and Misty, and she’d spent an hour brushing Misty’s silky coat while Cory sulked in the corner. Corinne had insisted her eldest son chip in his knowledge of raising horses, and he had, begrudgingly.

  He’d also stared Vicky down as if he couldn’t wait to rid her from his sight. Is that what Dillon had been referring to?

  “Whose bright idea was this again?” Cory kicked the heavy door shut behind them and grabbed a lantern off the wall, illuminating the gloom for one startling moment before her eyes adjusted.

  “Mine. But no one said you had to go along with it.” Noticing another lantern, she snatched it off the wall. She smiled as he wrapped his arms around her waist and nuzzled her neck.

  “Your wet panties said it.” He slapped her ass just hard enough to make her cry out—in approval, not distress. “No sane man could ever say no to you.”

  “You’re sane?” She darted away, laughing, as he grabbed for her, then turned on the second lantern. The two lights offered a nice, warm glow.

  Just enough for what she had in mind.

  Misty whinnied from the corner and Vicky leaned up on her tiptoes to try to get a glimpse of the beautiful horse. “I always wanted to ride her,” she said wistfully when her big, dark head popped over the top of her stall.

  “You can ride me instead.” He pulled her against him, backing them toward a huge pile of hay bales. “We need to make heat somehow.”