Harlequin KISS November 2014 Box Set: Behind Closed Doors...Fired by Her FlingWho's Calling the Shots?Nine Month Countdown

by Anne Oliver

Slowly, seductively, she leaned forward, and he felt her words on his ear before he heard them.

  ‘Take me home, Jack, and make love to me.’

  Jack didn’t care if she was playing games. He wanted her and tonight she wanted him. He leaned in, catching a glimpse of her breasts, and touched his cheek to hers, wanting to feel her skin on his but needing to tell her what she needed to know. Needing to warn her.

  ‘I want you bad.’

  NINE

  Brooke lost it. She dropped her glass and it clattered onto the hardwood floor. She felt the breaths in her chest come way too fast. She needed air. She needed to breathe. But most of all she needed Jack Douglas. Tonight.

  She didn’t care what he meant about being friends. She didn’t care that he was the producer. And she didn’t care that soon she was supposed to meet her ‘perfect match’. All she cared about was her skin being right next to his skin and his tongue sucking on her ‘eh’ breasts.

  ‘We need to leave.’

  She didn’t want to wait for the tequila to wear off or for herself to change her mind. Jack was bad and mean and no good. Perfect for one night of hot sex—which was exactly what she needed. No wonder she’d been so angry lately. Sex. That would fix it. After she had hot, hot sex with this very bad man she’d go back to being her normal, calm, sweet self. She could finish this stupid show and get the hell out of here.

  ‘Leave?’

  ‘Right now. We need to go.’

  Brooke stood. If she didn’t take him home right now the waitress would, and tonight she wanted him. She wanted to have sex with someone who knew what the hell they were doing. It had been too long. She’d been good for too long. Her sisters were right, she needed to do something mental to bust her out of the rut she was in. And Jack Douglas was certainly mental.

  ‘Now.’

  She didn’t touch him but she gave him a look that she hoped left him in no doubt of her intentions. And if he was as bad as she suspected, and—let’s face it—she knew he was, he’d follow her. He’d take her home and give her a seeing-to until she couldn’t stand straight. Which was just what she needed, she’d decided. Or maybe the tequila had decided for her. Either way—it was happening.

  Brooke walked out through the door with only a sliver of doubt that he’d follow. The doubt disappeared as soon as she felt the warm breeze hit her outside. She felt him behind her, heard his footsteps on the cobbles.

  ‘Where are we going?’

  Brooke turned, stopping but not touching him. ‘Your place, obviously. There are eleven other women at my place.’

  He smiled but didn’t say anything. He didn’t have to. She knew what he was thinking.

  ‘I’m sure twelve women at once is a mild night for you, but tonight I want you all to myself. Just you and me—and you know what?’

  ‘What’s that, Brooke?’

  She didn’t miss the satisfaction in his voice.

  ‘You’re going to enjoy it. And you’re going to make me enjoy it. You’re going to pull out every trick you have in that bag of yours because I haven’t had sex in twelve months and I need unbelievable sex tonight. Not good. Not even great. Un-freaking-believable. And, Jack? We’re not friends. Can you do that?’

  ‘I can try.’

  ‘There’s no try.’

  Brooke turned to walk again. She wasn’t sure where he lived, or where he was staying, but she wasn’t about to stop and ask because if she did she might change her mind. She might think about tomorrow and how awkward it would be. She might also think about how she would probably enjoy it and might want to do it again, but he wouldn’t, and then she’d get mad and offended and probably say something to him, and then he’d think she liked him and she’d try and explain that she didn’t, and then he’d think she really liked him, and then she’d get really angry and start thinking about it and obsessing, and then she’d probably convince herself she actually wanted to see him again, and then he’d break her heart. Sigh.

  Brooke stopped. This was going to end in tears, wasn’t it?

  ‘Something wrong?’

  He was so close behind her but still not touching her. She wished he would touch her. Something to encourage her. Something to stop her from thinking and to remind her that this was about a bad boy and a night of fun.

  Brooke breathed in a big gulp of muggy sea air. The tequila swam in her head. It was telling her things. Telling her to say things she didn’t want to. But the tequila was strong.

  ‘I haven’t had a boyfriend in almost a year.’

  Don’t say that!

  ‘Then you’re well overdue for some attention.’

  ‘My boyfriend left me.’

  No! Not sexy.

  ‘Your ex sounds like a jerk.’

  ‘He’s not. He wasn’t. He was perfectly lovely and we were perfectly happy. One day he just didn’t call. And he didn’t answer my calls. And he was never home, and I couldn’t get hold of him, and his friends kept feeding me excuses. I didn’t know what the hell was going on until I saw a Facebook post a few weeks later. It was a picture of him and “his love”. That’s what he called her.’

  Brooke didn’t cry. She’d shed so many tears over Mitch that there were none left, but somewhere deep in her heart something twisted.

  ‘He left me. Then he got someone else and posted it all over social media. Didn’t even have the balls to tell me. Couldn’t even give me a heads-up. Just humiliated me.’

  Jack was silent behind her and she knew what he was thinking. She’d said too much. He didn’t want to know. He didn’t want heavy. He was a bad boy—he wanted light, fluffy bimbo. Not feelings. Bad boys didn’t do feelings.

  Bloody tequila!

  Brooke started to walk before she thought about what she’d said and before he could say anything to her. She’d blown it. There’d be no hot sex with Jack tonight. She’d been humiliated by a man in the past—why the hell would she want to do something that was sure to lead to more humiliation?

  Brooke’s feet started to move faster and so did her anger. It escalated as she remembered every sexist, horrible thing Jack Douglas had done to her. It escalated when she thought of the girls back at the penthouse. All believing they were going to find their perfect match on the show. All believing that there was a man out there who was going to make them happy.

  It seemed only she knew the truth. Men didn’t make you happy—they made you miserable. The only person you could count on was yourself.

  Brooke’s feet stopped and a massive lump caught fiercely in her throat. Then why had she been so miserable since Mitch left? Why had she let her happiness depend on him being around? Mitch. Who had left her for no reason. Who hadn’t even said goodbye. Who hadn’t even had the decency to tell her it was over to her face.

  He’d left her a message. A very public, very humiliating Facebook message on her wall. Everyone had known he’d left her. Breathe in, breathe out. She’d been humiliated. Exposed. Which was exactly what she was going to feel in a few weeks, when this show aired. When the men arrived tomorrow and she failed all the challenges and didn’t get to meet anyone. When it was her time to fail, like Alissa had at the beach. Keep moving. Keep walking. She started to walk again.

  ‘Brooke. Stop.’

  Jack’s deep voice was close behind her. Only a few steps away. The sound of it made her move. Quickly. But his long legs against her short ones meant he was keeping up. So she walked faster and faster, until both her feet were off the ground and she was jogging. But he was still keeping up.

  ‘You can’t outrun me, you know.’

  Challenge accepted.

  Brooke paused to slip off her heels and broke into a run. An all-out pelt up the Corso and across the road to the beach. The sand would slow him down. But it didn’t. Once she reached the bottom of the stairs and her heels
started to dig into the sand he was right beside her, arms pumping.

  ‘Faster Brooke, faster!’ She heard her father’s voice ringing in her head.

  She ran faster. Faster and faster towards the water. Wanting to get away. Wanting to forget. Wanting not to think, just to breathe and pump her legs.

  When her feet hit the water it was cold and she braced herself as she dived in. She dipped her head, allowing the noises of the ocean to take all her thoughts and worries and anxieties and humiliations away. She swam and stood and dived and swam until her lungs burned. Then she stopped. She was a long way out. Past the breaking waves. The water was black and everything around her was black. She was alone, and the exhilaration she’d been feeling as she swam was quickly replaced with fear.

  When Jack’s arms grabbed her from behind her first feeling was an irrational terror that it was a shark. When she turned and looked at his face she realised he was a shark. He was beautiful. Wet and dripping, his face shadowed, his eyes hooded. He had his shirt off and he was panting and his eyes were fixed on her lips.

  ‘I know you’re angry, Brooke.’

  His voice was low and deep and Brooke felt it rumble through her chest.

  ‘I can make you feel better.’

  Jack Douglas was a bad man. A man who partied hard, broke hearts and didn’t care about anyone or anything. He was a shark.

  ‘I want to make you feel better.’

  Right now he was telling her exactly what she wanted to hear. He knew what he was doing. She knew what he was doing. But for some reason she couldn’t stop pressing her lips to his and kissing him as if it was her last day on earth.

  * * *

  Brooke’s body felt as good as it looked. Her skin was smooth where his hands explored her wet flesh. Jack pushed the fabric of her shirt out of the way so he could come into contact with her skin. His aversion to touching was forgotten as his other hand came up to cup her chin. She was beautiful—but here in the ocean, all wet and frantic, she was out of this world.

  Her eyes closed as he let his mouth press to her lips. He pushed in hard and she met him. Her kisses weren’t soft or tender, and her passion was turning him on. She wanted him badly and he felt exactly the same. Their tongues explored and her hands were moving as wildly as her lips, touching everywhere. He didn’t mind. He wanted her close.

  He pushed and she pushed, and while his legs paddled wildly to keep them afloat he pressed closer, making sure they were as close as two people could be. He wanted her close. He wanted to hold her up and keep her afloat. He wanted to take her anger away, make her forget.

  Brooke wrapped her legs around his waist. She clearly wanted to get closer to him, and her desire was unexpected and all the more sweet because of it. He suspected that right now she was hurting and wanted to hurt him as well. She wanted to make him feel how angry she was.

  Her teeth bit at his lip and he growled a little. He tasted the salt on her skin as he kissed past her lips to her ear, then down the milky column of her neck. She threw her head back and moaned wildly as his kisses made their way down her chest.

  He needed more traction. He wanted to do more with this beautiful mermaid. He wanted to lay her in the sand and kiss her all over. He wanted to take her anger until she wasn’t angry any more—just wild with passion. For him. And only him.

  Jack pulled back quickly. What was he doing? She wouldn’t want to be with him. Not when she met her perfect match. Not when she realised he wasn’t good at communication and feelings and all the other things that went on in relationships.

  ‘Don’t stop.’ Her voice was soft and demanding.

  ‘We should go back to shore.’

  ‘No!’

  Her legs tightened around his waist, making his erection painfully hard.

  ‘I want to stay here. With you.’

  She kissed him again and he felt as if he were drowning in it. Every thought and reason flew from his head. All he could concentrate on was the way his heart was beating faster and how he wanted to get close, closer to her and her skin, and her mouth and her hands. Her small body clung to him and he wrapped his arms around her, holding her close, wanting this to be something that it wasn’t. He knew what this was. A fleeting moment of lust. He had to stop it before he got in too deep.

  Pulling her arms from around his neck, he met her eyes. ‘Brooke, we have to go back.’

  She understood. He saw her eyes searching his. She was thinking, but he didn’t know what.

  When she let him go he felt cold and bare and he hated that he felt it. This was why you couldn’t get close. The confusion and the wondering what the other person was thinking. He’d not had a relationship yet that was honest and he was sure it would be the same with Brooke. She confused the hell out of him already, with her arguing and fighting and then her unexpected kisses.

  He watched as she took skilful strokes through the water to the shore. He wasn’t a strong swimmer. He hoped she didn’t turn around when she reached the sand to watch him. She was athletic—good at everything. He wondered how she did that. And she was smart and hot. She was stunning and special.

  But not his special, he reminded himself as his feet finally hit the sand and he was able to stand and step over the gently rolling waves to the shore. His breathing was heavy. He hadn’t been to the gym in three months. Ever since work on this show had started.

  He missed it. He missed seeing his workout on the board and thinking there was no way he’d complete it in time, then the satisfaction when he did. He felt unfit right now, and he was sure Brooke would want someone fit. She was so fit herself. Women like her put value on health and fitness and he caught himself wishing he were fitter. Wishing he could impress her—because so far he hadn’t been able to, and that was starting to bother him.

  When he made it past the water she was waiting for him. Soaking wet. Her hair was pulled back and her face was shining in the moonlight. He’d never wanted to kiss anyone more, but he didn’t. He couldn’t. This would never work. She’d get hurt, and something deep inside him knew he didn’t want to hurt her.

  But she didn’t give up that easily. She stepped forward, wrapped her arms around his waist and leaned her head on his chest. That was all. Just quietly stood there, hugging him tight. It was an intimate feeling and he wanted to push her away. Explain that he didn’t do intimate. But right then it seemed as if she needed him and he liked it. She needed comfort and warmth and understanding and he wanted to give it to her.

  He let his arms envelop her. Maybe he couldn’t give her a lifetime of happiness, but he could give her a moment. He could make her feel better for now. As his arms tightened she looked up. The smile she gave him was relaxed and grateful and he was so glad he’d done that. He liked to make her smile even more than he liked to fire her up. Which was why he leaned down to kiss her.

  But the comforting kiss soon turned into something more. Her hands explored his chest, her tongue eager and exploring. He let his hands rest on either side of her face, keeping her still, keeping her there—not letting her go. Something wild and frantic built inside him. He wanted her. He needed her. He had to have her. Here. Now. Carefully and quickly he wrapped one arm behind her back and let her fall to the sand.

  * * *

  Brooke wasn’t angry any more. The emotion she was feeling now was something else. Something much more desperate. She wasn’t sure if it was still the tequila doing the thinking, but right now she felt something from Jack she hadn’t felt in a long time. He wanted to please her. He wanted to comfort her. And she was grateful—because she was lonely and sad and angry and his comfort was exactly what she needed.

  When he pushed her back into the sand Brooke felt strangely safe. He was strong and he was leading her to where she needed to be. She didn’t have to think—all she had to do was feel.

  ‘Are you sure you want to do
this? With me?’

  When she looked at him she was surprised at the uncertainty in his eyes. She’d never seen that look before. She hadn’t ever considered he’d be insecure. Didn’t he realise how much she wanted him?

  ‘Yes. I want this. I want you.’

  He didn’t smile, but he held her eyes before kissing her. His soft lips soothed her and Brooke’s head swam. She thought of nothing but him, and the weight of him on top of her, and the feeling of his hands running over her body.

  Keeping one hand on her waist, with the other he pulled at her shirt. Moved the wet fabric aside, as well as the bra underneath, to expose her thirty-two B breasts. His tongue laved at her nipple and any residual anger in Brooke’s head gave way to something else. A pleasure that made thinking impossible. That made reason vanish. She just wanted more. More of his mouth and more of his tongue and more of him.

  The cool night air hit her nipples and they hardened. He took them in his mouth again before allowing his lips to trail further down her stomach. With a tug he managed to get her wet jeans off. He threw them in a heap on the sand and Brooke clawed at him, trying to get him back up to kiss her again. But he didn’t. He stayed where he was.

  ‘You’re beautiful,’ he murmured as his tongue licked around her lower stomach.

  Brooke lay still in anticipation of his touch. Of his tongue. His kisses moved lower and she opened her legs, allowing his head to get closer. She watched him. Watched the way his eyes eagerly drank her in. She watched his hands as they stroked her thighs, and then she watched as he trailed one finger through her wetness.

  ‘So wet... So hot...’ he murmured, before allowing his face to fall and his tongue to push in, searching for her clit.

  Brooke arched her back in delight. She moaned, grabbed at the sand, trying to get some traction—but there was none so she reached for his shoulders instead. Looking down, she watched him as ripples of pleasure shuddered through her. She pushed her pelvis up, wanting to get closer, needing him to go deeper, and he obliged. His tongue worked like magic and he sucked gently, making her groan even louder.