Unconventional Fling: A #GeekLove Contemporary Romance (Love Hashtagged)

by Allyson Lindt

  He grabbed my face again, though this time the kiss was gentler and less frantic. “You’re even sexier than I remembered. I didn’t think that was possible.”

  I struggled for a response, not sure I’d find words, after that burst of intensity.

  “Will you at least let me get us home now?” His crooked smile returned.

  I twisted my lips in thought and slid back into my seat with a purr. “I guess so.”

  * * * *

  Brandon’s arms around me were a wonderful thing to feel first thing in the morning, and I snuggled into the warm body behind me. The cotton of our light-weight comforter enveloped me, making it hard to wake up. My gaze fell on the red numbers of the digital clock by his bed.

  Almost 9 A.M. It had been years since I slept that late. How pathetic was that? Forget pathetic, how much longer could I sleep if I closed my eyes again?

  Fifteen minutes later, the chatter of my brain convinced me I wasn’t dozing off again anytime soon. I extracted myself from my Prince Charming and padded across the plush carpet into the bathroom.

  The chill of the tile against my feet almost convinced me to hop back into bed. Sleep was a lost cause, though.

  Ten minutes later I emerged, fluffing some of the water from my hair with a towel. Brandon still lay sound asleep. I rifled through the drawers for something clean and glanced at my powered-off phone.

  Guilt warred with indecision. Since he slept through my shower, he probably wouldn’t notice if I slipped into the other room and checked my e-mail. I’d be done long before he woke up. I’d promised, but if checked in while Brandon was still out, my client would be happy, Brandon didn’t have to know, and I’d feel better on both fronts.

  I grabbed an oversized T-shirt from my dresser, pulled it on, and tiptoed into the living room, closing the master bedroom door silently behind me. I pressed the power button on the phone and waited for it to download my mail.

  A groan escaped when I landed on a conference call request scheduled for less than five minutes from now. Apparently Matt’s log-into-the-client’s-network issue hadn’t resolved itself. There was an apology at the top of the note, and he asked me to please call if I got the message in time, but not to worry about it if I didn’t. The follow-up request from Elizabeth’s made it clear this wasn’t optional.

  I glanced back at the closed door. I could pretend I hadn’t seen the message, but experience had taught me that, if I didn’t step in and help fix things now, there’d be a giant mess when I got back next week.

  I paused in front of the sliding glass door to the balcony, but didn’t step outside as I gazed out over the Dallas skyline. Please let him sleep just a little longer. I slipped my Bluetooth earpiece into place and dialed the conference line.

  “Hey. It’s Molly… Yeah, you know. Trying to enjoy my vacation. No, it’s no big deal, don’t worry about—”

  The creaking of the bedroom door stole the rest of my assurance. I swiveled on my toes, to find Brandon leaning against the doorframe, pajama bottoms hanging low on his hips. He didn’t say anything, but the way the corners of his eyes tugged down spoke volumes.

  My gut sank, and then turned in on itself when the silence in my ear indicated someone was waiting for me to answer a question. I swallowed past the lump in my throat left by Brandon’s wounded look. “Yeah, no. I’m here. I’m sure we can clear this up quickly. It’s all a misunderstanding… Exactly, then I can go back to my vacation.”

  I forced a laugh, my gaze never leaving Brandon. Please let him recognize the words were meant for him more than for my client.

  He shook his head, returned to the bedroom, and closed the door.

  Words bounced around in my head, gnawing at my guilt. He’d been great about the odd hours when I first moved in. He rarely complained when I answered email in the middle of the night. But he didn’t always keep his grumbles to himself when I did things like take calls, during those few meals we were both in town at the same time for and could enjoy together.

  And I’d promised, just this once, to leave work behind.

  I stared at the empty spot in the room, half-listening to the call and adding my grunts when appropriate. He wasn’t coming back out. Crap. Hopefully I could make things right as soon as this was over.

  Which would happen more quickly if I ended this call. I stepped into the conversation with a renewed determination to get things over with.

  Brandon wrapped his arms around my waist from behind, and I squealed, surprised I hadn’t heard him sneak up on me. Relief whispered through me, and I dragged my composure back to the surface. “I’m fine. Sorry about that... No we were told you only expected samples with this shipment.”

  He trailed his fingers through my hair, following the line of my free ear with his lips. “I will find a way to be your only focus for at least an hour or two.” I felt his words, as much as heard them.

  My skin hummed with each caress, and I leaned back into him, half my attention on the call. “Yes. We can fix that. But we need your sign-off that you understand this run of two-hundred isn’t returnable.”

  I bit the inside of my cheek when he slid his hand under my shirt. He kissed along my neck, glided his palm up my stomach, and then cupped my breast. He traced circles around my nipple, never touching the tender button.

  It took more concentration than I thought I had, to reply to people on the call. Damn it. I needed to hang up now. Why did I even dial in? “Mhm…”

  Brandon danced his other hand along my thighs. He teased my bare legs while he gently kneaded my breast.

  “Yes. That’s right…” I didn’t even know if I was talking to them anymore, or him.

  And then his touch vanished. He dropped his hands away, and empty air rushed in to take his place. I didn’t have to turn around to know the soft click was the bedroom door closing again.

  I tilted my head back and stared at the ceiling. What should I do? The rest of the conversation filtered through my earpiece, none of it sticking in my head. I couldn’t hang up soon enough.

  When I did, I set my phone on a nearby end table, padded back to the room, and knocked tentatively.

  The door swung open before I pulled my knuckles away. Brandon was fully clothed, his expression blank and unreadable. “I was thinking…” His tone was flat, unlike I’d ever heard him talk before. “I need to step out for a few hours. You can work in the home office. Let me know how much time you need, and I’ll be back.”

  I cringed at the implication but refused to accept his meaning. “I’m done. There’s no need.”

  “It’s no problem.” He gestured toward the other room. “I have to run some errands, anyway. Things I put off that I shouldn’t have. Plug in. Log on. Do what you need to do. We can catch up later tonight.”

  “Brandon.” Pleading leaked into my voice. “Please, don’t. It was a single phone call.”

  “This was. What about the next one, in an hour? And the one this afternoon?” He crossed his arms. “If it was only going to be one call, it wouldn’t be a big deal. But your history—your client’s history—says otherwise. I’m not asking you not to talk to anyone else, but I do want to know where I stand on your priority list this week.”

  His words triggered memories of other failed relationships. His irritation dragged back every other serious fight I ever had with a guy. Their complaints that I spent too much time on the road. Their refusal to understand outside sales was the career I’d chosen and it demanded my time.

  “I told you up front this was my life. You said—swore—you were fine with it. That you wanted to give us a try and thought we’d be worth it.”

  “No.” His single word landed heavily between us. “You told me you traveled a lot. I get that. That’s my life too, and I don’t have an issue with it. I wish you’d warned me you were surgically attached to that leash you call a phone, though.”

  Of course. Despite his reassurances, he didn’t get it. “What was I supposed to do?” I asked. “Ignore it?”

>   “Yes. Turn the fucking thing off. Let it go to voicemail.”

  I gave a short, barking laugh. “And let everything pile up while I’m gone, so when I get back to work, there’s a looming pile of shit waiting?”

  “Or maybe let the people you work with think for themselves, for once. You’re not going to suddenly cease to be valuable if someone else figures something out on their own.”

  “That’s not… I don’t—” I ground my teeth at the simple words, hating how close to home they hit. A prickly ache clawed at my throat. “Maybe if you understood how the corporate world worked—” I snapped my mouth shut before I could finish the sentence.

  The wounded look on his face told me I didn’t shut up soon enough. The gravel in his voice didn’t hold any of the seduction I was used to. “Really? Because I’m performing on street corners, for loose change? I didn’t realize you had a problem with my silly little cartoons.”

  He meant the voice acting he did for a living. I cringed and back-pedaled. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean… I don’t want to argue over this. But please, understand where I’m coming from. I can’t tell a multi-million-dollar client, tough shit, I’m ignoring you.”

  “Then I’ll tell him. Hand me your phone.”

  Was he serious? Fear for my job told me he might be.

  He slumped his shoulders. “I’m not asking you to do anything to jeopardize your career. This is a reasonable request, Molly. People go on vacation. They leave work behind. Just remind Elizabeth’s politely, one more time, and then let me bury that horrible device in a drawer for the next five days.”

  He made it sound so simple, and it wasn’t. “But what if—”

  He rested a finger on my lips. The touch was so gentle, it pushed my trepidation aside. His reply was quiet. “Then they’ll deal. Whatever it is. They’ll survive until you’re back.” He cupped my cheek. “When your colleagues go on vacation, are they on call?”

  “They don’t answer to the same master. When the president of Elizabeth’s goes on vacation, he checks his email every fifteen minutes.”

  “Is it in your contract that you have to?”

  “No.”

  He traced his thumb under my eye, his gaze locked on mine. “You’re valuable. If you mean even a tenth to them of what you do to me, you’d have to be. And I know you’re talented. People in jobs like yours keep companies running, and you’re a million times what any of them are.”

  The compliment warmed me from the inside, spreading to my toes, my fingertips, and my cheeks.

  “But if you won’t be selfish,” he continued, “I’ll be selfish for you. I want you to myself, at least for a little while. You choose. Do you want to spend these few days with me?” He made it sound so simple. So seductive.

  “I want to. I really do.”

  He picked up my phone. “Then let me do this, and forget it for the rest of the time we’re here.”

  Tension roared through me, as he pulled up my work email. He moved to stand beside me, letting me see his every word as he typed out a quick message.

  I’ll be out of pocket the rest of the week and completely unreachable. See you Monday.

  I might snap; I was so wound up. Yet, when he pressed Send, the nervousness started to ebb.

  He powered off my phone, placed it in the end-table drawer, and turned to me. “You’re mine for the rest of the week.”

  There was no question in his words. No room for argument or protest. I couldn’t help my smile. “The entire week.”

  “Good.” He settled his hands on my hips and guided me backward. I fought the urge to look behind me, and let myself trust him. He lifted, and seconds later, my butt rested on a barstool, the cool varnished wood teasing my bare thighs.

  “See?” He dipped his head and trailed his nose up my neck. “Lighter already.”

  A part of me argued this was a bad idea. I locked it away. This was exactly what I needed. He was the only thing I wanted. “Much lighter.”

  He wedged a knee between my legs, and forced them apart when he stepped between them. The rough denim of his jeans cut into my legs, teasing me.

  He knotted his fingers in my hair and yanked my head back. “I want to hear you scream again. Like you did yesterday, in the car.”

  “I don’t do that on command.” My laugh faded into a groan when he sucked on my neck. His teeth marked the flesh at the crook of my shoulder. I moved my hips in time to his attentions.

  Never letting up on my throat, he shoved his free hand between us. I was still wet from the teasing kisses during my phone call, and his fingers slid between my folds. There was no hesitation in his touch. Every movement was rough and demanding.

  He found my clit and rubbed hard. I arched my back at the hungry touch. I ground my hips, pushing my pelvis into his hand. Needing more. Orgasm boiled inside but refused to grant me relief. He shifted his position and hit just the right spot, and a scream tore from my throat.

  He didn’t let up. Through the haze of rolling pleasure, I was vaguely aware of the sound of a zipper.

  Seconds later, my climax cut into something sharper when he thrust inside me, spreading me open with a single plunge. I bucked against him and hooked my legs around his waist.

  He hammered a frantic pace, grunts growing in volume. He moved his hands to my waist, digging in his thumbs hard enough, I was sure he was going to leave bruises.

  Another orgasm tore through me, and I recognized the sounds of him drawing close as well. I milked his cock and felt him spill inside me.

  The desperate rhythm slowed and then stopped. We both struggled for breath, and my heart hammered in my veins.

  He kissed me softly, and then rested a finger under my chin, his gaze holding mine captive. “If you really want, if the need compels you, you can turn that damn thing back on tomorrow morning, as long as it doesn’t stay on. But you’ll have a lot more fun this week if you forget it’s even there.”

  Knowing we could get up to a list of wicked things, to help me enjoy my time off, made the promise easy. “It can stay there. I’ll survive, but don’t let that stop you from distracting me.”

  “I wouldn’t ever… distract you.” He dragged his thumb over my bottom lip.

  I sighed and sank into the gesture. This was going to be the best vacation ever. I had no doubt.

  THE END

  More by Allyson Lindt

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  What happens in Vegas… Can break hearts and destroy careers.

  Years ago, heartbreak corrupted Jared Tippins’s outlook on love. He spun the betrayal into a rapid climb up the corporate ladder, and swore off any relationship with a morning after. Luckily, the playful siren who rescues him from singing a duet alone in a karaoke bar doesn’t want anything long term.

  If only he could stop fantasizing about ways to make her moan. Sure, she could’ve mentioned he works for the competition. At least she’s not behind the security concerns that have plagued his company for almost six months.

  If she were, he’d be screwed on a whole new level.

  Denial of Interest (Version 2.0 Book 1)

  Zach Johnston had it all. A billion dollar software empire, a different girl in his bed every night, and a business partner who shared his vision of market domination, one gaming console at a time.

  No one can stay on top forever, and calling what their biggest competitor did to them a hostile takeover doesn't do it justice. No-lube violation is more accurate.

  Even worse, the only woman he's never been able to forget is back in his life. Rae Nielson is filling his business partner’s head with delusions of starting over and haunting Zach’s most vivid fantasies.

  The safe choice is to deny his interest in Rae and her plan. But Zach didn't make it big the first time around by playing it safe.

  Roll Against Trust (3d20 Book 1)

  The line between fantasy and reality blurs when a late night gaming session goes from playful to smoldering.

  Tasha’s
not looking for love, but she doesn’t mind just looking… and maybe a little fantasizing. Her two best friends and weekend AD& D buddies, Seth and Ryan, are the perfect guest stars in her fantasies. When a late night gaming session with the three goes from silly to verbally scorching in an instant, Tasha wonders if her imagination is enough to keep her satisfied long term.

  Then her ex’s money mismanagement catches up to her in the form of draining her bank account, her job is threatened by a mistake that points to Ryan, and Seth takes his side. If Tasha can’t move past her trust issues long enough to uncover the truth—both with herself and the men she’s falling for—she’ll wind up broken-hearted and just plain broke.

  About the Author

  Allyson Lindt is a full-time geek and a fuller-time contemporary romance author. She prefers that her geeky heroes come with the alpha expansion pack and adores a heroine who can hold her own in a boardroom. She loves a sexy happily-ever-after and helping deserving cubicle dwellers find their futures together.