by Cari Quinn
Please. Let me pretend I’m not a lech with the sensitivity of an ogre.
“You’re not asleep.”
“Very observant of you, lady Sherlock.” He opened his eyes, uncertain how she would receive the flippant remark.
She turned her grin against his chest. “You wake up grumpy. Why doesn’t this surprise me?”
“Didn’t wake up. Been up.”
She lifted her head and her damp hair tumbled forward over her shoulders, making her look impossibly young. And impossibly sexy, all huge eyes and pouty lips.
His cock stirred. Christ, why’d he have to think of her lips? Glossy and plump. So damn wet.
This time, he had no hope of stifling the groan.
Wearing nothing but a devious smile, she trailed her cool hand down his stomach. She encircled his rigid cock before he had a chance to plead for mercy, but once she had him in hand, he wasn’t about to say a word.
“You’re definitely up,” she purred appreciatively, bending to take him in her mouth.
With one stroke of her nimble tongue, he shook like a strung-out junkie. He wrapped her hair around his wrist, helpless against the need to guide her, to drive her down farther so that the moans she was making deep in her throat rippled over his length. She tugged his sac, adding an erotic edge of pain.
He clenched his ass to stem the tide that already threatened to drag him under. Her eagerness stoked his excitement, building it higher and higher until his hips flexed and he fisted her hair, prepared to give in—
She stopped.
Groaning, he eyed her as if she were a wild animal as she drew her liquid velvet mouth up his cock so slowly that he knew she felt every ridge, every vein, every pulse. Then she crawled up his body to straddle him and wrapped her agile hands one on top of the other on his erection. She twisted them in opposite directions, loosing a growl from his throat.
Her tongue peeked out between her lips, luring him. Just as she intended. “Do you want me?”
“You know I do.”
“Enough to beg?”
He narrowed his eyes. He didn’t beg. Ever. For anyone.
She vised her hands tighter, inciting a pressure in his balls that shot streaks of scalding heat up his spine. “You can come like this.” She looked down at herself, and her intimate inspection nearly did him in. “All over my breasts. My stomach. Or…” She brushed her wet center against him and his eyes crossed on their way to rolling back in his head. “Inside me, so deep you’re all I feel.”
Leaning forward, she pressed her palm against his belly and the muscles jumped. With her other hand, she rubbed him against her wet folds, saturating him with her desire. Teasing him with it until he growled again and notched his hand on her waist, driving her down onto him in a swift, inexorable motion.
She looked so surprised he’d taken the upper hand that he jerked up into a sitting position and locked his hand around her neck, bringing her slack mouth to his laughing one. “Sweetheart, you’ll never be as strong as me.”
But suddenly he was the weak one, caught in her awed expression as she gripped his shoulders and started to move. They were so close like this, her knees beside his hips, their mouths sliding together but not linked. He breathed in the sweet scent of cherries mixed with that faint scent of wax that still clung to her skin. Her sigh whispered over his lips like a kiss and he powered upward, burying himself inside her so that her longing throbbed in his blood as well.
She gasped at his sudden urgency, her eyes just as unguarded now as they were earlier. The shutters on her emotions hadn’t come down to block him out yet and he reveled in the sensation, knowing he was inside her in a way far beyond the physical.
And he wanted it. He wanted to learn everything about her, to be the only man she trembled for with her heart in her eyes while her slim hips rode him to completion.
She changed the angle, rising higher before bending back, doing more of those acrobatics that sent his system into overdrive. She squeezed around him, scorching him with her excitement, urging him to follow her lead. He clasped her swollen breasts and she cried out, the broken sound triggering the plea he’d never believed he would give.
“Please, Vic. For me. Now.”
A quaver went through her and her eyes closed. Then she was moving faster, the pinch of her nails dragging down his arms encouraging him to race with her, to drive her as hard as they both needed. To take them to the finish.
She came first, but barely. Her first spasm sent him over, crashing hard into the wall. Mouths colliding, he thrust his hips up to meet hers one final time. Their arms wrapped tight, their lips sealed together, and he embedded himself as deep as he could go in her giving body. It still wasn’t close enough.
It would never be enough.
He dropped his head to her breasts and let his mind go blissfully blank. The night had taken its toll. All he wanted was to stretch out with her and sleep. Just sleep.
But he forced himself to look up, to make sure she was okay. That was his duty. Her tiny, smug smile was his reward.
He traced the corners of that smile, honored that he’d earned another tonight. “There it is. Thank you for adding more to my collection.”
“So you have a mental smile bank instead of a spank bank.”
“You’re the only one who puts deposits in it. Though, now that you mention it, you’ve deposited quite a few things in the latter lately.” He laughed at her halfhearted shoulder smack.
Her hand flexed, as pale as a sunbeam against his darker skin. “Your mom invited me to a girls-only packing party tomorrow. Do you think she’d mind if I brought Jill?”
“You don’t have to go if you don’t want to.”
“I thought that was my loverly duty.”
“Girlfriend duty,” he corrected, wincing inwardly when she removed her hand. “I won’t be there so it’s not necessary. Besides, you don’t…it’s not…” Shit, he was about to stutter. Was he that tired? “You hate lying. I don’t want to make it worse for you.”
The smile she gave him now was the exact opposite of what he’d dubbed her orgasm smile. “Appreciate it, but I’ll be fine. It’ll keep Jill out of trouble. Monday’s ladies’ night at the bar.” She sighed heavily. “That girl’s going to be the death of me.”
“What do you care what she does? You’re not her mother.”
Her sharp glance made him want to snatch the words back, even if he didn’t know why. “She doesn’t have a mother anymore, so I’m all she’s got. I made a promise to make sure she stays on the right path, and I’m going to keep it.”
“Where is her mother?”
“She died.” A quick blink and the sheen that brightened her eyes for a moment was gone. “Jill was her only child, and she wanted me to watch over her. If I have to put a damn chastity belt on the girl to protect her virtue, by God, I will.”
He snorted out a laugh. “She’s twenty-two, correct? Sure there’s anything left to protect? Nowadays girls are usually pretty young, aren’t they?”
She waved her hand. “Town skank here, remember?”
“Stop it.” He grabbed her hand and pulled it against his chest. “I don’t want to hear that word out of your mouth again or I’ll—”
When he trailed off, she grinned. “Debase me some more?”
Chapter Thirteen
Cory reeled back as if she’d struck him. No, he probably would’ve flinched less at that. “That’s what you think of what we did?”
Dear God, had he read her completely wrong? Maybe she wanted her fun, but only a certain kind. The safe kind that rode in on motorcycles and rode out of town just as quickly.
Had tonight just been another experience for her bucket list? He’d been sure that the level of intimacy they’d reached had meant something to her as well. Maybe not love, despite her words in the shower. Of course not love.
But still, they’d connected. Or so he’d stupidly believed.
When he would’ve pushed her back and risen, she grabbed h
is shoulder. “Don’t be an idiot. I was just kidding. I liked everything we did.” None too gently, she turned his face back to hers. “Correction: I loved everything we did. I’ve never—” She blew out a breath. “It’s never been like that for me before.”
He stared somewhere over her shoulder. “I realize I have atypical tastes.”
“Couldn’t prove it by me. I once dated a guy who had a thing for my feet. And when I say thing, I mean he used to like me to jerk him off with them. We broke up after he wanted to photograph my toes wrapped around his dick. By then my arches were permanently cramped.”
It wasn’t right to laugh at someone else’s kink. He knew that better than anyone. But between her straightforward delivery and her grin, he couldn’t have held back if he tried.
“Moral of the story? Leave the camera at home.” His gaze drifted to the ceiling and his breath stuttered. “You have my solar system.”
She leaned up and nuzzled his jaw. “You didn’t see it before?”
“When did you take it?”
“Your mom invited me over for lunch yesterday. We did some packing and she offered me some of your other things.” She smiled wistfully as heat wound through his chest. “It was always my dream to live in a house like that, with a family like yours. Not that I don’t love mine, but you know.”
Looking at his parents and brother from her perspective, he saw all he’d taken for granted. And it stung.
“Is that why you became an interior designer?” When she stared, it was his turn to shrug. “So you could create your dream house over and over.”
She lowered her lashes. “You know, Cory Santangelo, your brain is a sexy thing to behold.”
“Thanks. I think.”
“It’s a compliment. And speaking of designing things, your brother commissioned me to take over the last of the party planning for your parents’ going-away party. Apparently your secretary isn’t enjoying the process.”
“My secretary has been otherwise occupied with actual work,” he said drily. “You’re not a party planner.”
“No, but I sure do love doing up a banquet hall, and I also love your parents.” She grinned. “Besides, most of the work’s already done. At this point it’s just tallying up RSVPs, confirming things with the caterers and Lex, and making sure everything’s set. Then Jill and I get to create a fall wonderland.”
Giving in to the urge, he tucked her even closer. He didn’t want to let her go. Ever. The more time he spent in her company, the more certain he was that theirs was no temporary arrangement. If he didn’t move to change what they had soon, the going-away party would come and go and she might think her duty was done.
She might think they were done.
The idea of dating seemed anticlimactic at this point. For God’s sake, he’d already dripped hot wax over her body and held her while she cried. Twice. They’d known each other since they were children. The parts of her he hadn’t explored yet, he was determined to. So what if she could be impulsive and hard to predict? Lately he’d been those things, too. And he liked it.
No, he loved it. He loved—
Cory closed his eyes. One step at a time. First things first, he needed a strategy. If he wanted her forever, he had to make sure he gave her ample reason to take the chance of her life with him. Whether she loved him now or not, they’d get there. She deserved the world, and he wanted to give it to her.
Or he would, once the shakes wore off.
She poked him in the shoulder. “Why so quiet?”
He made himself focus on the ceiling. “You put Pluto too close to Neptune.”
“Get up there and fix it then. Later.” She cuddled closer. “So…wanna spoon?”
He didn’t even cringe. She made him happy. Hell, she made him want to pretend he was a utensil with her. “Roll over. I get the back.”
She waggled her brows. “It’s all yours.”
Chuckling, he smacked her ass as she turned over. “I’ll remind you of that some other time.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll remember,” she teased.
He kissed her bare shoulder and settled in for sleep. Tonight, maybe he’d actually get some. “Me too.”
His cell went off way too early. Or he was way late, depending. Monday morning meant rising early. No dillydallying in bed.
Cory cocked open an eye and peered at Victoria’s alarm clock. It faced the wall and, he discovered, wasn’t plugged in. No wonder she was late so often.
He snatched his phone off the nightstand so it didn’t wake her and strode into the connected bathroom. It was the printer. Due to a scheduling problem, if he didn’t get the final page proofs to them today, he likely wouldn’t get his preferred street date. Unless he wanted to change his four-color options or his quantities, neither of which he was prepared to do.
His next phone call was to the graphic designer who produced the magazine. She could get the photos in the layout that morning, but only if he got them to her within the next ninety minutes. Oh, and he might as well sign over his checkbook, because she intended to bleed him dry.
Cursing under his breath, he agreed and hung up.
Dammit. He and Vic hadn’t gone over Friday’s photos yet, and she’d told him last night she had a full slate of clients to see today. They’d moved their regular Monday magazine to Tuesday this week, due to an issue that had arisen with a sunroom. Or playroom. Something like that. He knew the shots would be amazing, but it would still take some time to cull the best ones.
He walked back into the bedroom and sighed affectionately as he glanced at the bed. Vic was naked and sprawled on her belly, dead to the world. The chances he could get her up and dressed before he had to be at the graphic designer’s were slim to none.
Moving quickly, he left her a vague note on the nightstand. After her roller coaster of emotions the night before, she needed to rest, not to come chasing after him. He skipped a shower and put his tuxedo back on. He’d just have to wear his Sunday best to work and endure all the stares.
A grin curled his mouth as he kissed the back of her head. It had been so worth it. They’d have many more nights just like that if he had his way.
And he would.
His grin widened as he pressed another kiss into the small of her back. He could be very persuasive when he wanted to be.
He caught himself humming as he hurried out to his car. He’d set his sights on making Victoria his for real, and he wouldn’t back down until she truly belonged to him. Now all he had to do was determine the most expeditious way to get the job done.
…
Vicky woke to an empty, cold bed. She should’ve been surprised, but she wasn’t. Some part of her had expected him to take off. After all, he was the master evader, slipping free of any potential entanglements before he got too knotted up, and she’d made a huge mistake.
She’d told him the truth.
She hadn’t realized what she’d said in the shower until late at night, when she’d been enfolded in his arms and the moonlight had sketched the planes of his face for her as if she didn’t have them memorized. She’d studied the bow of his lips, the angles of his cheekbones and jaw, the fringe of his eyelashes. Though she’d told herself she was just enjoying the typical postcoital glow, she’d known better.
He would leave, because she didn’t know how to make him stay.
More than likely she was just one more complication to him. One more way to pass the time until he could extricate himself and move on.
But she wouldn’t. Much as she hated to admit it—even to herself—he owned her body and soul. Probably she’d leased him the first slice of her heart back at her ninth-grade dance, when she’d first seen him dancing with her sister.
It might’ve become one of those sweeping movie moments if anything had happened between them after that. He hadn’t crossed the room to find out who Vicky was. She hadn’t made some big play for him, determined to pry him from her sister’s disinterested clutches.
They’d gone their se
parate ways, occasionally crossing paths. He’d been the first one to question why she’d “thrown away” her fine mind on design. She hadn’t bothered to explain to him why she’d felt called to her profession, but he’d finally figured it out all on his own.
Over the years, they’d developed an uneasy, sometimes combative quasi-friendship born from shared acquaintances and proximity. Neither had made a move on the other, and maybe there were good reasons for that.
He wouldn’t ever love her the way she needed him to. All in, nothing held back. He was married to his work, and somehow along the way she’d fallen for him too deeply to be smart. She couldn’t just content herself with his credit cards and his fancy parties and pretend that great sex and laughter were enough. She wouldn’t settle for anything less than all of Cory Santangelo, even the parts he was afraid to give her. Especially those.
She sat up and rested her head in her hands, letting the tears come. She cried for her mother, doing Popsicle-stick crafts in a room with a window that didn’t let in any light. For her father, tossing dice on a table surrounded by strangers. She cried for Jill, trying to pretend she didn’t miss her mom anymore and only cared about fun, fun, fun. For her big brother, fighting to pretend that he didn’t want anything more than beer and babes.
And she cried for herself, for so stupidly falling for someone who couldn’t have been more perfect for her if she’d created him with her own hands.
When she didn’t have any more tears left, she rose and took a hot shower. She dressed quickly and threw her hair up in a bun.
Throwing herself into work helped the day pass more quickly, though she really wasn’t in any hurry for the night to arrive. Eventually she forced herself to stop checking her phone.
He didn’t call until late afternoon. She’d known he would eventually. He might be as hard to pin down as an eel in a bowl of Jell-O, but he took his responsibilities seriously. While she was his fake girlfriend, he counted her as one of them.
She let the call go to voice mail. And the next.