What to Read After FSOG: The Gemstone Collection (WTRAFSOG Book 9)

by Kristine Cayne

“How nice of you.” He didn’t say it in a condescending manner but as a fact. “Unfortunately, they would be judge and jury on our lives.” He grunted with feigned disgust. “Look at how sad they are. Single. Lonely. Having nothing but sex, sex, sex with no meaning to their life other than a good night’s rest. Mind you, they haven’t slept in eons and can’t quite remember what it’s like anyway.”

  He said it in the driest of tones. She couldn’t help but laugh and the frustration lessened even more. “I have nothing against what makes other people happy.”

  He looked at her as though the answer was obvious. “’Cause you’re nice.”

  “And you’re not?”

  He made a face. “Sixty percent of the time. The rest I’m a dobber.”

  He often called himself a dick. She wasn’t seeing him in a kinder light because of great sex. He didn’t have some deep well of emotion just lying around for her to discover, but he wasn’t cruel. She knew and had experienced first-hand. Ian was far from being a dick, but she could tell by his expression he believed it.

  “You’re mocking siblings,” she guessed and sidestepped the minefield.

  He shook his head. “Some friends who traded in their traveling clothes for tweed jackets.”

  “You’re the last hold out. No wonder you don’t have kind words for them. Holidays they team up against you and try to hook you up with their friend or the person they came across in the grocery store who seemed so nice. A virtual stranger if that’s what it takes.”

  He tightened the stays as he looked at her. A pensive expression darkened his face. “Worse for you, I’m guessing.”

  “Nothing more depressing than seeing a woman alone. Especially when everyone else is hooked up.” She tried to hide it but bitterness leaked through her tone anyway.

  He finished the tying, and she slapped at the dress to straighten out all of the extra folds. When she looked up, Ian’s good humor had vanished. Her lungs constricted and her heart fluttered. Not in fear but of what she feared of feeling for him—way more than lust.

  “He was a bastard.” No warmth in his voice, nothing sexual, just hard words spoken.

  She kept the tremble out of her voice by sheer will. “Who?”

  “Whoever broke your heart.”

  She jerked her shoulder and let out a quiet breath. “What makes you think I didn’t break his?”

  He concentrated on the stays. “When it’s right and good both hearts usually end up broken when the relationship is over, but since I know you and not him, he’s the bastard in my book.”

  She ducked her head and pretended to fix the bottom of the dress over the legs.

  He stilled above her. “Did I go and make you cry?”

  “No,” she said softly, which was the truth. She just felt exposed. With nothing left to pretend to do, Jocelyn straightened to meet his gaze.

  Except he was paying attention to the way the ties fell over the mannequin’s bustle. It gave her the courage to ask, “So, who’s your bastard?”

  Humor glinted in his gaze when he finally looked at her. “If I told you, you’d feel sorry for me instead of understanding I was a lucky bastard. I got to love my Sadie.”

  Ian stopped what he was doing and pulled out his wallet. Taking out a picture, he offered it to her.

  Wary, because she knew that glint, Jocelyn took it, looked and guffawed. “You’re a jackass.”

  She slammed the picture of a dog into his chest. And from the belly up pose of the picture, a male dog at that.

  He didn’t even crack a smile. “Never underestimate the love a man has for his best friend. When I decided to travel around the world, I had to take him to the pound. No one wanted something between a Great Dane and German Shepherd.”

  “Sadie looks like he ate small children as a snack.” She crossed her arms and eyed him. He put the picture back into his wallet and the wallet back into his pocket. “So, that makes you lucky, how?”

  “I knew without a doubt he loved me.” His tone was light but none of that emotion showed in his eyes. “And like I said, that makes me one lucky bastard.”

  She hadn’t told Ian who he was. Ian wouldn’t spill that heartache either. Maybe it had nothing to do with crossing some line between what they were because even if this wasn’t just sex, Jocelyn didn’t want to talk about Reese. He left her for a woman who was ready to settle down right that moment instead of in a few years. Apparently, what she believed they had wasn’t all that spectacular if he didn’t love her enough to wait. Or even, the life they would have had didn’t make her ache in a way that waiting seemed insane.

  She sighed, brushing away the memories. “Maybe I should get a dog. Never had one.”

  “Not even as a child?”

  “Father was allergic.”

  He shook his head. “So sheltered. We’ve got to toughen you up before I go. I can’t just move on knowing I’m practically leaving you to the wolves.”

  “I should be offended, but I agree.” She went to get the shoes out of the box across the room. Hard to replicate, they had to use the originals for the display.

  Tucking on the white gloves, she said, “There’s no way I can go back to ordinary after this. You’ve made me like dirty sex too much. It’s hard to find a nice guy who’s also a freak.”

  “So, I’ve ruined you?”

  Jocelyn didn’t have to turn around to see the pleased smile. She couldn’t let the egotistical comment stand. “Less you and more me, because all the stuff I’ve asked for were things I already fantasized about. I’ll have to find someone else to do them with after you go. Teach someone else what I’ve learned about myself.” She grinned, practically seeing his annoyed expression. “You know, since the student has surpassed the teacher.”

  “I can’t have that then. I’ve got a reputation.”

  She stilled at the low tone and closed her eyes. His voice was husky and a little bit raw. Ian only ever talked to her like that when they were naked. Hearing him now, like that, at work, felt like she’d brushed up against a live wire. Within seconds her panties were damp and her mouth dry. Damn.

  It was inappropriate and grounds for firing to screw at work, but it was barely ten in the morning and waiting until five felt impossible. What had she turned into letting him have her in every way, in any way she asked for? A nympho, apparently. She tried to breathe through it and didn’t turn around to him just yet. If she did and he looked like he was one swallow away from devouring her, all bets were off.

  She handled the antique like a good curator was supposed to and let the quiet eat away at the anticipatory tension in the air. Jocelyn counted her steps back to the mannequin and knelt in front of it. Sucking in another breath, she placed the shoes on the stiff and lifeless feet. Shoes that cost way more than when they were made.

  Her skin prickled. Ian was watching her progress or just watching her. In order to get through the ordeal and keep her hands steady, she told herself it was in a professional way. Professional curiosity. He just wanted to see how someone else in their field used ingrained techniques to dress inanimate objects with priceless and irreplaceable pieces of history.

  He was not watching her because she was practically kneeling at his feet and he liked her in that position. Her kneeling would feed his desire to see her bend on his command. Ian wouldn’t get off on the feeling of authority or power, but in her supplication. Nothing drove him over the edge faster than when she gave him permission to let go and do what he wanted. The whole exploration in his bedroom was about her and he never let her forget it.

  Even though she told herself not to think about it, because fanning the flames only made the heat building at her core hotter, Jocelyn’s imagination snagged on how she wanted him to do things she hadn’t thought of yet. She was wet, already from the flirting with the thought of him being aroused. None of this would be an issue if he’d kept that tone under lock and key while they were at work. She finished dressing the shoes on the model, braced herself and stood to face him.
>
  Damn.

  He hadn’t been watching her in a professional-curiosity way. His hands were stuffed in his pockets but there was no missing the bulge in his pants. How could it even be possible that looking at a man could make a woman so wet? Being near him was enough to turn her on.

  Her breathing grew unsteady. “Ian, stop looking at me like that.”

  “Can’t at the moment.” His lids lowered.

  What he wanted to do was right there in his gaze even if she couldn’t see the bulge in his pants. No. Two letters. Easily spoken, and she would mean them if her mouth could work properly. He was the expert at this but even she knew taking things out of his bedroom would blur the lines they were already crossing.

  No.

  Just say it.

  No.

  She licked her lips and he grunted, jaw clenching and Jocelyn knew what that sound, that expression meant. He wanted to take her raw and hard. No pretty words. Just grinding into her until her muscles and bones turned into liquid and all she could do was moan.

  And she would love every moment of it.

  He looked away and tension rippled through him. The moment reminded her of how they stood in the basement for countless hours, wanting each other, denying that desire. No thought was involved. Her foot just stepped forward, closer and the frisson between them sent goosebumps up her arm. She swallowed and let her fingers brush against his hand.

  He met her gaze and something downright wolfish passed behind it right before he grabbed her hand and practically dragged her out of the room.

  Chapter Six

  Her heart flew into her throat at the sound of Ian locking his office door. Nerves forced her to catalog every detail. The cherry wood desk had neat little stacks of office supplies, a closed laptop sat in the middle. A behemoth armless leather chair guarded a corner in the office and next to it a small table. To her surprise, decent copies of his degrees lined the wall above the file cabinets. Outside of those personal touches, there was nothing of him in the office. Just like his apartment.

  She would have asked an asinine question to fill the silence, but then his hands wrapped around her waist. He pressed his lips to her neck and began to unbutton her suit jacket, then shirt.

  “We’re going to play the quiet game,” he said and didn’t sound like himself at all. He sounded gruff and half-mad, which spurred him to drag her in here with him.

  She must have been too, because she said, “The first to moan loses.”

  Ian’s fingers curled into the demi-cup as he pulled her bra down for better access. She bit back the gasp when his fingernails grazed her nipples. Heat. So much heat built inside her and her skin tingled wherever his lips touched. No way in hell would she win. With one hand he massaged her breasts, back and forth, caress, squeeze, titillate. The other hand lifted her skirt and slid into her panties.

  Ian cursed. The only word he uttered before plunging his finger into her and clamping his mouth onto her neck just the way she liked it. Jocelyn lifted her arms, grabbed two handfuls of his hair and held on because this was insanity. And the moan was right there, building in her chest but she didn’t make a sound. She had to remember this was a game or she just might lose it.

  Suddenly, he pulled back, lifted her and dragged them to the chair. He didn’t give her time to turn around to face him. They fell into it, but already Ian had bunched her skirt around her waist and spread his legs. His breathing was unsteady, a heated reminder against her neck. He loosened the hold on her waist and she turned to get a glimpse of him. Her stomach tightened with need at the sight. This wasn’t the same man who always had control. A flush had risen to his cheeks and though his brows were furrowed, there was an untamed intensity about him.

  Ian shifted and pulled out his wallet. There was Sadie again. After a little more rummaging, he took out a condom and placed it on the table beside them.

  His gaze lifted to hers again and she expected him to smile, to soften the moment. She’d expected him to look at her with anything other than the tortured expression he wore. She held her breath, waiting for him to say something to ease the tension. This was too much for what they should be. But, he didn’t. His blue-gray gaze drunk her in.

  It was then she became fully aware he was dressed while her clothes were in disarray. Jocelyn shucked off her coat and shirt, but left the skirt and bra. She stood to slide out the underwear, and he ran his hands up her legs, tangling with her fingers on her legs. The simple touch started a fire deep in her chest.

  He continued to help her step out of the thin satin, but kissed the bared skin along the way. His warm mouth ignited the passion further. When the silky material lay on the floor with her jacket and shirt, he kept right on kissing his way back up while he unbuckled his pants.

  “Bend over,” he whispered over the curve of her ass.

  She did, exposing herself to his mouth and he showed his appreciation. Both hands splayed on her ass cheeks, he spread her more, and kissed her sex deeply. She bit down on her lip to keep in the moan.

  Ian took his hands away and let his mouth do most of the work of bringing her to the edge. He licked and suckled her right there and if she breathed any harder, she’d pass out from hyperventilation. Blood rushed to her head anyway from the bent over position she was in. She felt dizzy. Her legs trembled as she tried to keep still. She didn’t want to miss one lick or suck. Jocelyn had to reach back to steady herself and found his legs bare, too. When had he taken his pants off? How?

  Who cared, because, oh, gawd. She was going to come and the moan she held back would leak out. “I can’t,” she said.

  His only reply was to lick her slowly from her clit to her aching entrance. She gasped because he kept going right over the tight rim of her ass. The sensation didn’t have the same intensity of his mouth on her clit, but it felt good, made her pussy clench from need. She yearned for a fantasy she’d never thought to imagine. It made her feel wanton and just shy of kinky.

  She moaned.

  He tore his mouth away and she moaned again this time in frustration. He grunted deeply and she looked back to see what made him stop. His hand was fisted around the head of his cock. Had he been stroking himself? Another moan escaped, because she wanted to see him do that, too.

  “Ian?”

  “On it,” he growled in answer. He snatched up the condom, slid it on and wrenched her down on top of him. Pussy lubricated from his mouth and her arousal, she took in his cock with ease. Another moan slipped out as he spread his legs wider, spreading hers too in the process, and she sank down lower.

  “We’ve got to be quiet or we’ll be caught.”

  She clenched, aroused at the thought, but fear still pumped in her heart too.

  “Like that, do you?” He cursed, lifted her up by the waist and slammed her back down. Again and again.

  With hotly, whispered words he weaved a naughty fantasy of someone hearing them, listening and getting off. Even with that, she contained her moans and that only seemed to turn her on more. And intensity of holding back such a simple urge gripped her, flushed her skin and tightened its hold until she shuddered from the strength of it. Ian grasped her waist and pumped faster into her. When she came, hard, he clamped down onto her neck with his teeth. The blinding pleasure drowned out any pain the bite may have caused. He shuddered too, but didn’t make a sound. One clipped moan managed to get away from her.

  For a while all they did was breathe heavily. Finally, she looked down and saw his pants tangled around one foot, but he still wore his shoes and dress socks. His fingers were gripped around her bunched up skirt and she’d lost a heel at some point.

  A laugh bubbled up and then spilled out when Jocelyn couldn’t stop it. “I wish I could have a picture of this moment.”

  He snorted and the release of air ruffled the hair at the nape of her neck. “Aye. Something to remember us by.”

  She thought about that. He had rules about having sex with coworkers. A rule didn’t become one because you never tried
it. It became one because you did only to suffer from dire consequences. “Have you ever…done this at work?”

  “No,” he said softly.

  Her mind tried to go down all sorts of serious and relationship-like paths with him, but…he’d—they’d both been a little swept away in the moment. They’d both done something they’d never normally do with each other. Didn’t mean a damn thing. She let it go. Had to.

  “Well, now we have to go back to work rumpled.” She laughed again, forced it out this time. “I won’t be able to look you in the eye, but at least make sure I’ve got all my buttons straight.”

  Jocelyn adjusted her bra first. He placed a kiss on her shoulder blade. She stilled at the intimate touch post-sex.

  “You’re going to give us away with your nervous giggling.” He sounded amused.

  She tried to relax but couldn’t. There was nowhere to run. They were at work, not his apartment. No time for a cooling off period where she could distance herself from what they’d done, and then he’d gone and kissed her shoulder.

  “You started it.” To her surprise none of the conflicting emotions showed in her voice. “Let this be an understanding. Do not look at me like that at work. There’ll be consequences.”

  “But you lost the game first,” he said, voice still husky. “More than once, actually. I’ll be collecting my prize later.”

  This time the word came easier. “No. Not tonight. I’ve got to attack my bucket list that’s outside of the bedroom.”

  “I have been monopolizing your time, but I will collect. Don’t doubt it.”

  There was nothing in his tone that sounded like he cared one way or the other, which was good. The expert in this wasn’t wavering. So, she’d take the cues from him. Rising, she put herself back together. By the time she faced him again, he didn’t look too bad. His hair was a mess from her fingers. Since she refused to let herself touch him when it wasn’t about to lead to more, she pointed it out.

  A crooked smile graced his handsome face and he roughly finger combed his hair. “Next time, be gentle with me, Lass. I’m fragile.”