No Promises Required

by Cari Quinn

On the other hand, he wasn’t too far from shuddering. Little sister’s best friend. Little sister’s best friend. Little sister’s best friend.

  Maybe if he kept chanting that in his head, he wouldn’t push up her skirt to see if she was as ready to play as she seemed. The only thing that seemed to undermine her casually sexual demeanor was the way she averted her gaze, as if she were afraid to look him in the eye while she rocked his world.

  Evidently, lots of people had changed recently—including him.

  For months, he’d been riding the straight and narrow. He hadn’t taken a lover, had barely had a drop to drink. Ever since he’d heard the Mariners might not be renewing his contract, he’d given up the beer, females, and taco dip for a cleaner lifestyle. But with one look at that rounded ass and those fuck-me blue eyes, he couldn’t remember why he was supposed to say no.

  It had been a long time since they’d seen each other for more than a few minutes at a stretch. One of the reasons he’d been glad to leave town years ago had been his hope of avoiding this. If they couldn’t even say hello without one of them groping the other, clearly they needed to retreat to opposite corners of the universe.

  Get a hold of yourself.

  He knew better. She was too sweet and wholesome for him, hand on his cock notwithstanding. One night of sex with her would turn into another night, and that would turn into what it always turned into with him. Eventually, he’d let her down. The way he always let his lovers down. That might be okay when it happened with random girls hyped up to sleep with a football star, but with Jill? His sister’s best friend? No way.

  Besides, getting back to football required his entire focus. His image needed to be shined up, and that meant no wine, no women, and no thongs. Certainly not his little sister’s best friend’s hand rubbing against him, making him harder than a rock.

  Not to mention he wasn’t in town long enough to get involved with anyone. Especially anyone who would only complicate his already complicated life with a capital C.

  “What the hell are you doing?” he gritted out, pressing his knuckles into the brick wall. Even the quick bite of pressure didn’t distract him from the sudden heaviness between his legs. Jesus, Jill had some grip on her.

  “Right now? I’m stroking your cock.”

  For a second, he could’ve sworn he heard her teeth chattering. Was she really that cold or could she be more nervous than she seemed?

  “Thanks for the update,” he said.

  “It’s a pretty big one, too, isn’t it?” Her breathing stuttered. “I mean, nothing astronomical, but large enough as they go.”

  “What do you know about cocks?” The response was a knee-jerk reaction to his dented pride. Later, he might feel guilty about it. Maybe. “A chaste girl like you.”

  The words seemed wrong even as he said them. She damn well didn’t seem chaste anymore, other than those small signs of nerves. If that was even what they were.

  But it was too late to take it back. Her shoulders caved in, and she bowed her head. Dammit, he’d hurt her feelings. He immediately gripped her hips and moved closer, intending to apologize. Instead she tilted up her chin and shot him a challenging look an angel couldn’t have resisted.

  And he was no fucking angel.

  “You’ve clearly gotten the wrong idea about me,” she said, her eyes flashing heat even in the cool winter night. The lights around the building didn’t offer much illumination, but he could see the fire in her gaze with no trouble. “But even if you hadn’t”—she opened her legs a fraction, putting his thumbs dangerously low on her inner thighs—“consider this your invitation to show me what I’ve missed.”

  His brain scrambled, all the blood in his system surging south. Hell no. He wasn’t going there with her again, not ever. Despite the fact that he could remember exactly how eagerly her lips had parted under his all those years ago. There was no reason to remember. He’d been with plenty of women since.

  But those women weren’t Jill, and he’d never been the same man with any of them. She’d brought out something in him he always fought to shove down. She’d made him feel comfortable enough to be himself. She knew his mother had walked away from their family without warning when he was sixteen, and she’d never acted like it affected her opinion of him. Around Jill, he could just be.

  That made her dangerous. This was a difficult time. He had to keep his true self repressed. Resist his wild urges. Resist how she was touching him, inviting his dark side to break free…

  And fuck, those lips, pink and shimmering. Her tongue slicked along their fullness, tempting him to edge his thumbs deeper into the V of her thighs, wondering if she’d part for him.

  “You don’t know what you’re asking for, baby girl.”

  “I do know how the mechanics work, you know.” She tossed back her hair, all fire and sass and impatience. An irresistible combination. “As for the particulars, sure, they could use a little refining—”

  He slanted his mouth over hers, more to make her shut up than anything. God knew he wasn’t fully thinking about what he was doing, or he never would’ve pushed her up against the building, never would’ve let her take his cock in her hand.

  That taste of what could be would haunt him. He fucking knew better.

  But then she licked her lips and pressed her body into his, and he lost it. His hand came up between her legs, and hearing her gasp, he let out a sharp growl and leaned in to take her mouth with his.

  Lust swam into his bloodstream with her first startled exhalation. She didn’t fight to keep him out, just opened her lips and invited him in with a sly curl of her tongue. She tasted fresh and…young. Hunger licked at his mouth, her tongue eager, ready, and flavored with cherries.

  He fisted his hands in all that damn hair pouring down her back. He couldn’t contain it, couldn’t turn her head just right to get deep enough into her sweet, warm depths.

  She was right there with him, moaning her pleasure while she writhed against him and gripped his sweater. Thank God she’d let go of his dick or he would’ve—

  “Fuck. No.” Releasing her hair, he ripped his mouth away and stared down at her flushed face as if she were a frightening apparition. For all intents and purposes, she was. She represented his longing for something he was never going to have, no matter what.

  “Yes,” she whispered, eyes still closed as she reached for him. “I think you missed a spot.”

  He nearly laughed. Damn this woman. “I didn’t miss a thing, and you know it.”

  “Mmm.” Eyes still shut, she smiled. “I can think of a couple.”

  Did she—oh yeah, she did. She’d placed her innuendoes right at the door of no man’s land, and he was imagining every fucking second.

  To keep himself from grabbing her again, he stepped away and struggled for oxygen. She’d been throwing him off his game since he was a teenager. Nice to see nothing had changed.

  Except now he could walk away and not look back. Not like all those years ago. He’d had a difficult time shaking her off, especially when he’d been so close to her mother. Touching Mrs. St. John’s baby girl seemed like sacrilege, even if he’d been all too aware that if he didn’t, someone else would.

  But he didn’t have girlfriends. Never had, and he still didn’t. He took lovers. And if any girl had ever been more girlfriend-material than Jill St. John, he’d never met her.

  Reason number sixty-nine not to even consider going there now.

  “Jill,” he said, waiting until her heavy lids lifted. Something twisted in his gut at the dreamy look in her eyes, evident even in the dim light. “We’re in public. Anyone could walk out here and see us. Goddammit, I barely said hello before I practically mauled you.” After she’d first felt up his cock, but that was neither here nor there.

  “So?” Her chin jutted out.

  “The last thing I need is more gossip about my love life. I’m trying to clean up my image.” Not exactly by choice, either. He’d been in damage-control mode since even before h
e’d been released by his team. A little gossip about wild times behind closed doors helped an athlete’s career. Too much hampered it. He’d been trying to balance the scales for months now.

  “Oh, so I’m dirtying you up?” Rather than sounding insulted, she sounded amused. Maybe even intrigued.

  Clearly that tactic wasn’t going to work. Time to pull out the big guns, the numero-uno reason he’d never let himself cross that line with her. If he hadn’t already. “You’re my sister’s best friend.”

  Just like that, the shutters fell on her face. His gratitude that he’d found the key to make her retreat didn’t lessen his reluctance to lose access to that soft, sexy part of her.

  She tugged at her dress, pulling it back into place with a prim little jerk that made his cock twitch. “And your point is what?”

  “You and me can never happen.” He tried to make his voice gentle, but it was difficult when he was pretty sure his shaft would permanently bear the imprint of his zipper. “She would never want to see you with the likes of me.” And she’d be right.

  “Why, because you actually know what you’re doing in bed? God fucking forbid.” She reached up to straighten her hair. The more she fussed with it, the wilder it became. “Guess what, Mr. Big Shot? I don’t mind that you’ve been with a gazillion women.”

  His spine stiffened. “You shouldn’t believe everything you read.”

  But she didn’t appear to be listening. “In fact, I consider that a bonus. You won’t fumble around like you’ve never seen a—”

  He brushed his hips against her, unable to resist one more tease. Christ, the V-neck of her dress ended practically at her navel. With the moonlight spilling over her skin, he could make out the alluring shadows between those forbidden swells that pushed against her dress. “A what, baby? If you want to claim it, you can name it.”

  She shoved him back. “If you want to hear me dirty talk, you better give me a good reason.”

  Her words poured a welcome bucket of cold water on his libido. “Vic’s getting married. I’m in town just long enough to watch it happen. Two weeks from now, I’m outta here.”

  “I get it. You think I can’t be discreet or deal with things how they are. Naturally I’d want a lifetime commitment from you, not a ride.”

  So much for her being sweet and innocent. He searched for his voice. “Did you just say a ride?”

  Shaking her head, she brushed him aside. “I never figured you for a coward, Townsend.”

  “I’m no fucking coward.” Indignation reared its head, nearly stifling the demands of his other, more southerly one. Then she shifted, jiggling her tits again, and his dick renewed its very valid case. “Here I am, trying to do the honorable thing, and you—”

  “Save it. I hear you, loud and clear.” She flashed him a thin smile over her shoulder and started sashaying back toward the club. “Enjoy the show, Bry.”

  He was still staring after her fine-as-hell ass, trying to figure out how everything had gone so wrong, when her statement finally sunk in.

  What show?

  Cursing under his breath, he headed inside to find out.

  Chapter Two

  Jill marched down the hall to the dressing room, her mind filled with one idea and one idea only.

  To show Bryan Townsend what he was missing.

  She wasn’t even worried about tripping and breaking a limb or potential humiliation anymore. So what that she didn’t have any inherent rhythm? Fake it till you make it was a legit motto for a reason. She’d just fake her butt off. And her breasts. The unstoppable combo that always worked to cover up her flaws.

  At the sound of uproarious female laughter inside the dressing room, she inhaled a deep breath and knocked. Guess everyone had arrived while she’d been outside getting handsy with Bryan. “Hey guys.”

  Vicky threw open the door, already wearing her sexy, sparkly costume. “Jilly Bean? You’re still here? Does this mean I get to chamber that round of ass-kicking I was saving for you?”

  Sheesh, not that Jilly Bean stuff again. Twice in one night. “We came here to dance,” she said in her cheeriest voice¸ pushing past her best friend into madness. “So let’s dance.”

  Three other women—Jake’s wife Nellie, Dillon’s girlfriend Lex, and Vic’s sister Melinda—were crammed into the small space, each of them primping and spraying perfume and laughing as if they were having a grand time.

  Jill plastered a smile on her face and tried to ignore that her lips were still numb from Bryan’s ridiculously masterful kiss. He was no boy, that one. Bryan was one-hundred-percent all man. She’d known that from the kiss he’d laid on her years ago, but tonight had just added that extra bit of punctuation.

  Now she was going to show him she was all woman. She just wouldn’t think about the forty or so other guys she’d be showing as well.

  “Hold up. You were angling to bail. Now you’re excited to strip?” Vic grabbed Jill’s shoulder and spun her around. “What changed in the last fifteen minutes?”

  “Is that all it’s been?” Amazing how a girl’s life could go from ho-hum to I-could-come in such a short span of time. Theoretically, anyway, since Bryan had failed to deliver. But he’d definitely primed the pump. Just imagining his thumbs on her inner thighs was enough to cause some serious dampening.

  “Give or take.” Vic picked up the lone remaining costume, a pink-and-black fluffy thing that showed off a ton of boob action and included a pair of fishnet stockings, handily revealed by the mid-thigh-length skirt. “This is all that’s left. Nellie went with the other one.” Vic’s lifted eyebrow said succinctly, told you so.

  Jill nodded bravely. “I’ll take it.”

  “This goes on top of it.” Vic produced a pink gauzy length of material and thrust it into Jill’s hands. “You strip this off shortly into the routine. A pair of cheapie stiletto heels are over there for you.”

  “I can’t wear my own shoes?” Jill glanced down at her chunky heels and sighed. No, probably not.

  “With that outfit, no. Fishnets and stilettos go together like peanut-butter and pickles.” At Melinda’s groan, Vic shrugged. “I had some last night and they were perfectly delicious.” She turned her attention back to Jill. “You remember the moves, right?”

  “Sure she does,” Lex called from behind them, adjusting her breasts in her corset top. “Our parts are easy. We just swivel our hips a lot and lick our lips and pretend we’re giving air blowjobs.”

  Jill swallowed. Air blowjobs. Right. That sounded just fabulous.

  As did the implements of sexual temptation that Melinda, Vic’s sister, handed out with grim satisfaction.

  “What are these for?” Jill asked, feeling her inner bad girl shriveling away with every passing moment.

  “To tease the guys of course. At least from afar.” Lex winked. “That is one sweet flogger.” She snatched one that had a wicked-looking tip. At her side, Nellie’s eyes were about as wide as Jill’s.

  “Oh yeah. I want one of those babies,” Jill announced, drawing Vic’s attention.

  “Do you?” Vic looked surprised.

  “Gotta grow up sometime,” Jill said. “Right?”

  For the first time tonight, Vic seemed pleased at what Jill had said. “How about this bullwhip?” She pushed it into Jill’s hand, and Jill tried to keep from dropping it. “Better practice with it. You want to look natural on stage.”

  “Sure. I’ll practice.” Jill shuffled off to the nearest corner and turned her back, trying to imagine Bryan’s face going slack with lust as she wielded her whip of carnal destruction. Ideally she wouldn’t accidentally whip herself, because whoa, that thing hurt.

  “Hey there, cowgirl, you wanna change first?” Nellie appeared at her side and held out Jill’s pink costume. “You’re going to look amazing in this. You have the perfect body for it. Me on the other hand… I still have a few pounds to lose.”

  “You look great.” Giving her a quick air-kiss, Jill accepted the costume and inwardly vowed never to
delay on making a decision again. She should’ve stuck with her yes in the first place, Bryan or no Bryan. She wanted to leave her comfort zone behind, right? That wasn’t going to happen if she stayed at home with one of her temporary foster kitties and her algebra homework every night.

  “Thanks. And so will you. Come on, girls. Let’s go practice in the hall and let Jill have a minute or two to play with the whip.” Flashing a sympathetic smile, Nellie picked up something that appeared to be a feather duster and herded the rest of the ladies out.

  Jill blew out a breath. Thank God for Nellie. She probably understood what it was like to be a fledgling wild woman, considering she looked about as out-of-sorts as Jill.

  Of course, she also had a hot husband and adorable baby, but that was neither here nor there.

  Fifteen minutes later, she emerged into the backstage area, bullwhip in hand and attitude in place. The ladies were all lined up and waiting for their cues.

  Vic shot her a bright smile as the spotlight panned the stage on the other side of the curtain. “Ready?”

  Jill gave her a determined smile in return. “More than I’ve ever been. Let’s do this.”

  As the curtain parted, Jill strutted forward. Bryan Townsend was going to know exactly who hit him—and if all went well, she’d plant her stiletto heel right in the middle of his puffed-up chest and show him everything he would never have.

  Unless he asked really nicely.

  …

  Bryan had only been back in a town a couple of hours, and already the scent of disaster was clinging to him like a discount-store cologne.

  No, that wasn’t fair. The scent of disaster belonged to Jill, who had nearly slayed him dead with her big blue eyes, seductive walk, and ridiculously hot talk. He’d felt that way about her since he was a teenager, and that was before she’d turned on the full wattage of her sex appeal. He’d stood outside in the night chill for ten extra minutes to try to get a hold of himself—and to wait for his erection to subside.

  Remember the plan.

  Help out at Vicky’s bridal party. Keep his distance from Jill, even if he had to see her at wedding-related shindigs. And through it all, lie low.