Truth & Temptation

by Riley Edgewood

  "You should quit while you're ahead." While he doesn't chuckle when he cuts me off, I swear there's one beneath his stern tone.

  And then, wait… "You think I'm ahead?"

  "I think we can table this discussion for another time."

  "Because it's inappropriate to discuss business like this at your son's wedding? Or because…you might be starting to like me?"

  "A little of the first, nothing of the second. But I won't meddle in Alec's personal life—"

  "More than you already have, you mean?" Oops. I really need to learn to shut up.

  His nostrils flare. "And I'll have HR go over the paperwork with you if you choose to continue a relationship with him. Other than that, time will tell if you're able to impress me at the office. I'm aware you had a hand in the way he reshaped his proposal."

  It's not exactly a compliment, but considering what Alec and Mr. Evans put together seems to be working, I take it as one anyway. Plus? Time will tell. The best phrase I've heard all night. Well, no. Alec's said some pretty fucking awesome things to me tonight, too. But this is somewhere toward the top five at least. Mr. Chambers is leaving the door open for me to be successful even if I stay with Alec.

  "Thank you," I say, right as Alec rounds the corner.

  He looks me over, then his father. "You're both still standing?"

  I laugh. Mr. Chambers, not so much. But whatever.

  "I was worried," Alec says, glancing between us a second time. "At first about you, Teagan. But the more I thought about it, the more I realized it was you, Dad, who I should be afraid for."

  I want to kiss his face off. I want to jump him here, in front of his father and the stars in the sky. I want to fast-forward through time until the moment he's above me, in his bed, pushing himself inside of me for the first time.

  Oh, holy hell. I cannot fucking wait for the rest of tonight. I've never been so sure of myself. Or of him.

  Mr. Chambers sighs and pulls a cigar out of his jacket pocket. He steps a few feet away to light it, and doesn't say anything else. Clearly, he's still disappointed in his son. But I wonder if the disappointment's really a test, something to force Alec to prove how much he wants me. Maybe this is a game Mr. Chambers plays with everyone.

  Maybe Mr. Chambers is a chess player like the rest of them…

  Alec looks at me and shrugs. I shrug back. I guess we've been dismissed.

  But, oddly, it kind of feels like the opposite.

  CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

  "YOUR PLACE OR mine?" Alec asks, following me into the limo. "I have to tell the driver."

  His question gives me pause. I hadn't considered that I have a place we can go back to now. But… "Yours."

  Because that's how I've been picturing it. In his bed.

  Plus, at his place we'll be alone.

  And, seriously, I can't stop thinking about his bed.

  "I'd ask if you're okay," he says, "But I already know you are. The second I walked away, I realized you would hold your own."

  "Your dad's intimidating as hell," I say. "But we reached an agreement—well, I think we did, anyway. What…" I try to hold the question back, but I'm too curious. "What did you discuss with him about me?"

  Alec rolls his eyes toward the ceiling of the car. "He told me it's inappropriate to date you because I'm your superior. I told him I'd look for a new job, now or after graduation, if it bothers him that much."

  Wow. "Alec—"

  He shuts me up with a kiss.

  I pull away, smiling. "Okay. Point taken. No more talking about your father. There's only one thing I want to focus on the rest of tonight anyway—and you know exactly what it is."

  "I do." He slides a hand over my lap, dipping his fingers between my knees. "I'm right there with you, kitten. Believe that."

  The limo ride takes for-fucking-ever. Somehow, we fill it with light conversation. Did I know Alec wants to start his own firm someday? Did he know I never had a middle name? Did I know Norris Marshall's putting out a solo album while Luca James is in rehab? We spend the most time on this last one because holy shit, no, I didn't know that, and I'm fucking pumped for it.

  But I'm trembling on the inside. With nerves. With anticipation.

  With hunger.

  He offers me a drink when he gets to his place, but that hunger's roaring something fierce and I don't want to waste any more time, even on a water. I shake my head and I take his hand and I pull him up the stairs, down the hall, into his bedroom.

  This, however, is where I pause, where my nerves are louder than my want. Because his bed is exactly as I've been picturing it. Like every other time I've been over here, but suddenly it feels larger. More intimidating. White, fluffy, and intimidating. A snort chokes out of me, slicing my throat with its sudden unexpectedness.

  "You okay?" Alec's hand is on my shoulder, his grip tight.

  I turn to him and the second our eyes meet my doubts drip away. I pull up on my toes to kiss him. "I need to splash some water on my face."

  He tilts his head toward the bathroom doors. "You know the way."

  That I do. What I didn't know though, is what to expect when I opened the doors.

  A mirror. Huge and framed in dark wood, hanging behind the sink.

  I spin around to find him watching me, amusement plastered on his face.

  "But you…?" I trail off, unsure of what I'm trying to say.

  He gives the most endearing shrug. "I like the way you look at me sometimes. Kinda made me want to see myself again."

  I cross to him in three steps, wrapping my arms around him, sinking into his chest when he returns the hug. Even if I hadn't learned his history, I'd have known this was a big deal. Knowing what I do now? This is more than big.

  It's gigantic.

  "You're one of a kind, you know that, Chambers?" I glance up at him to see the amusement doubled on his features.

  "Actually, I do, Walker." He lets me go and spins me toward the bathroom, slapping my ass through my dress. "Now go splash that water because I've got a craving for a taste of your sweet neck, and if you aren't back soon I'm coming in after you."

  I close the doors behind me, laughing, and run the water. Not wanting to ruin what's left of my makeup, I wet a washcloth and gently dab it along my forehead and under my chin, wiping away some of the humidity still lingering there from earlier. I almost run it under my arms, too, but I can still smell my deodorant, so I leave them be.

  One last glance in the mirror, where I think I'll need to take a deep breath or do something to steady my nerves…but I don't. I'm not nervous in a way that needs reassuring. All I want is to be with Alec. And so I step through the doors, and I make it happen.

  He's standing pretty much where I left him, jacket off and bowtie hanging loosely around his neck. He's still in his shirt and vest and he cuts a sexy fucking picture, all swank and steam. I walk straight to him, and I kiss him, hard. He breaks away, laughing. "Feeling feisty?"

  "Feeling a lot of things," I say, my hands drifting down to unbutton his vest—and then up to slide it off his shoulders. "Ready to feel even more."

  He takes his bowtie the rest of the way off and I unbutton his shirt, stripping it away from him, too. He does his belt, I do his undershirt.

  "Fuck." I can't keep my hands from smoothing over the ridges of his abs, the slopes of his pecs. "It's like you're carved from stone."

  "Feel a little lower, and you'll know it's true." He slides his feet from his shoes and yanks at his socks, one at a time. I take his advice and unbutton his pants, my fingers grazing his erection as I slide the fabric lower.

  "Yep." I nod, fighting a blush. "Your…cock certainly feels rock hard."

  "You said it," he says, laughing, his eyes dancing. "Look how far we've come."

  "Not far enough," I say. "But we're about to change that."

  The rest of his laugh falls away and he sucks in a breath. "If you're—"

  "Don't you dare ask me if I'm sure," I warn. "I wouldn't be here if I wasn'
t."

  He's silent for a moment, long enough to make me squirm. Then he spins me around and pulls my hair away from the side of my neck, whispering against my skin, "Then it's my turn to undress you."

  He licks the side of my neck, long and slow, edging his teeth along my skin in the same path—and I nearly sink to my knees at what it does to me, sparking things all the way down through my toes.

  "I'm not turning the light off," he says, his tone laced with steel.

  "I don't want you to," I whisper.

  He stands behind me, so close the heat from his body soaks through my dress.

  He unzips me, deliberately, with care.

  He lowers my dress, sliding it down my arms, running his hands over my skin, guiding the material lower, lower, and he swallows when it drifts below my back, exposing the underwear I'm wearing for the occasion.

  "White lace this time?" he asks in a strangled voice.

  When I bought them, I figured, with a smirk, it would be appropriate. You know, white for a virgin and all? But hearing the worship in his tone, I don't care what white represents anymore. I only want to have him speaking with this reverence toward me for the rest of forever.

  He drops to his knees behind me, pulling my dress with him. I step out of it and he gently wraps a hand around my ankle, pushing against me until I widen my stance. My stomach catches at what he must see—these panties don't cover much. I twist toward him. "Alec—"

  But the expression on his face stops me. "Let me cherish you," he says, his voice low, steady, his hands traveling up over my calves. He closes his eyes and rests his forehead against the back of my leg. He trembles, and dips his tongue against my skin.

  His hands caress the backs of my knees.

  I face forward and grab the edge of his dresser. Maybe I've been feeling my own trembles—they're growing stronger now, making my legs shake.

  Maybe we're trembling together.

  His palms carve the shapes of my legs, the curves of my ass. He slides his fingers under my lace and another deep intake of his breath fills the air, like a sweet symphony performed only for me.

  "I want to take my time," he says, and I'm not sure if it's to me or to himself. He runs gentle kisses along the tops of my legs, his hands slide around the fabric covering my hips, dipping lower, touching me. He vees his fingers through my flesh, spreading me in a way that makes me tingle so hard I nearly fall over.

  My own sigh shudders out into the silence of the room.

  "I need you, Alec," I find myself saying. "I need you to get up. I need you to kiss me. Because if you don't, I'm afraid I might cry, and I don't understand it—but it's there. Please. Kiss me."

  He stands, smoothing his hands up my body, curving them around my waist as I spin to face him. "I'll kiss you," he says, cupping my face, "anytime you ask me."

  "Then do it," I say, half a smirk climbing my mouth. He places his lips over mine before the full thing can form.

  This kiss is not like our previous kisses. There's something more. Something in the pressure of our mouths against each other. Something in the promise of his tongue when it glides through my lips to dance with mine.

  We walk toward his bed without breaking the kiss. But when it's there, hitting the backs of my legs, he stops, and he looks at me, a question in his eyes.

  I give my answer in a simple smile. "I'm happy," I say. "Truly happy to be here with you, like this, right now."

  I used to think happiness was a fragile thing. Something to be protected. But this…this is something to be displayed. To be shown. And so I slide back onto his bed, and I pull him with me.

  CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

  THE FEATHERY COMFORTER covering Alec's bed swishes as we edge backwards along it.

  He pauses above me, the muscles in his forearms like twisted ropes. "I need you naked, Teagan. I'm nearly in pain with wanting you."

  "I need you naked," I say, lifting up on my elbows to drag a kiss across his mouth. "I need you inside of me in the worst way, Alec. Soon."

  "Soon," he agrees. "But not quite yet. Let me look at you, first."

  Anticipation races up and between my ribs, tightening around my heart, but I nod.

  He slides the straps of my bra over my shoulders, gently tugging them down until my breasts are free from the cups. He pauses, just looking at me.

  I prepare myself for the wave of embarrassment, the urge to cover myself…but it doesn't come. And I get it now, I finally understand. I wasn't ready for this before.

  This time, I don't reach for the light switch when he removes my bra completely, tossing it away. This time, I'm not mentally nitpicking my body or wondering if he is. All I have room for in my mind is him. This moment.

  Love.

  So much it's almost painful between my ribs. So much all the breath leaks out of my lungs and is vacuumed up into my heart. Because that's where everything is at the moment.

  Love.

  And maybe it's a trick of the light, or the pull of my own emotion, but I swear it's reflected straight back at me on his face. In his caress.

  He slips his fingers under the hips of my underwear, and I lift my body to allow him to pull them down. Over my thighs. Past my knees. Along my shins. Slowly, slowly.

  All the way off.

  I've never been this naked with another person.

  And I don't mean without the clothing.

  He rises onto his knees and pauses, a sheepish twist to his mouth. He thumbs the waist of his boxer briefs. "Yes or no?"

  Conviction is an anchor in the space between us, when I say, "Yes." Then I rise onto my knees as well. "But I want to do it."

  I love the way he swallows when I hook my fingers into his waistband. I love the way he shudders when I trail my wet mouth across his collarbone and down his chest.

  I love the way he bucks his hips when I free him from his briefs, his erection rigid, so full from wanting me.

  There's a drop of wetness at his tip, and he trembles when I run my finger over it, looks pained when I slide my finger into my mouth to lick the taste of him from my skin. Salty. Tangy. Alec.

  I shove him backwards, onto the bed, so I can climb over him. So I can slide my lips over his erection, tease him with my tongue until he's groaning and grabbing my hair, weaving it into his fists.

  I trail my fingers up the muscles of his thighs; I cup him and massage him. My tongue flirts, flickering around his head, and when his grip tightens in my hair, I slide him down into the back of my throat, twisting my face from side to side, never relaxing my hands, not for a moment.

  He bucks his hips against my face, and I know he won't last much longer. The thought makes me giddy.

  But he surprises me, letting out a strained sound that's half a roar, and sitting up. He slides out of my mouth, and I glance up at him to complain, licking my lips.

  "Come here." He speaks before I can, and yanks me to him. In a maneuver the most skilled gymnast would be impressed with, he lies back and spins me until I'm positioned over his face, looking at his legs—and his tongue plunges straight into me.

  Holy hell.

  I lean forward, my hands on his chest, my head arched back, my knees inching further apart, flattening myself against his mouth, giving him access to every inch of me. And he takes it.

  He licks me from front to back, leveling his tongue against me and then rounding it through me, into me. He nuzzles me with his nose and trails me with his teeth, sucking me, breathing on me, into me.

  His hands splay across the cheeks of my ass, kneading them, spreading them, pulling me down with more force against his face. His tongue is all the way inside of me, mapping every part of me, and I bite back a scream that would bring his entire condo down.

  He dances his fingers higher along my back, pressing lower, lower until I dip my head down and swirl my tongue around his erection again.

  It's hard to concentrate, though, and I'm starting to pulse against his face, while his hips are jerking him further into my mouth. I rise on my
knees to take him at a better angle, but he yanks my hips back, slamming me onto his mouth again, and I swear to God he's got the longest, strongest, most demanding tongue in the world. My nerves are a line of dominoes and he's brushing it against them, knocking them down in a million rippled effects.

  He holds me in place, devouring me. If my stomach were to jerk any harder than it is, I might implode into absolutely nothing. Even my breathing quivers.

  I add a hand along his base and stroke him while I suck.

  He goes completely rigid. In my mouth. Beneath my body. He turns his face, gently biting the inside of my thigh, murmuring, "Hang on, kitten."

  But I don't want to hang on. I want to bring him to the brink. I want to push him over the brink so hard he flies.

  I suck energetically. Faster. Rougher.

  He matches my speed, my pressure with his tongue and soon it's me at the brink, me about to lose control, me moaning around him.

  He clamps a hand on my ankle and, in one breathtaking jerk, I find myself under him, face-to-face this time.

  I'd pout but I've lost my ability to command my features. I'm too light, too full of spinning. "Alec…" I trail off when he slides a hand between us.

  "Do you feel this?" he asks, pressing two fingers into me, curling them mercilessly until my chin tips up and my neck arches, and I let out a sound of pleasure I've never made before.

  "That's me. I do this to you." His tone is intense. And smug.

  "You do." My words are weak, too filled with pleasure for any real weight, and they flutter from my lips. "I never knew why I was waiting. But now I do. I was waiting for you."

  His eyes narrow and his chest expands with the breath he's holding. "You have no idea what it means to hear you say that. No idea."

  He flickers his fingers and I moan again, my body beginning to pulse. "Hold on," he say, easing his fingers out of me. Again, I want to pout but I'm too invested in the moment, too fully aware that everything here is leading to something bigger.