Twenty Times Tempted: A Sexy Contemporary Romance Collection

by Petrova, Em

  “I’m good. I don’t think I could stomach popcorn this late at night.” Riley spun so she faced them both, and reached for them but dropped her hands at the last minute. “Let’s go watch someone sexy and arrogant with as much brains as balls save the world.” She walked backward, talking and glancing over her shoulder occasionally to keep from running into something.

  “Did I miss something between you two?” Archer stepped closer to Zane, voice low.

  Great. Other people saw her tension too. “Nope.” He kept his expression neutral and his response quiet.

  Riley met Zane’s gaze one last time before turning away, uncertainty and something else hiding in her blue eyes. She made a straight line for a spot in the pockets of people stacked against one of the theater walls. Tori straightened as they approached. Her long hair was piled on her head and her glasses pushed up her nose, and she looked as friendly as when Zane first met her, two weeks ago, when she delivered Archer a themed dress she made for one of his customers.

  Riley bounced up next to her. “I’m so glad I won’t be drooling over the sexy guys alone.”

  Tori laughed. “I was worried you wouldn’t make it.”

  “Wouldn’t have missed it.”

  “For real,” Archer said to Zane. “What did you do? Sleep with her or something?”

  Zane bit back his growl. “I didn’t do anything.”

  Riley’s shoulders rose and fell when she sighed, and she turned back to face them.

  “First of all”—she turned an icy stare on Archer—“none of your god damned business. Second, I’m standing right here. I can hear you.”

  Archer at least had the grace to look sheepish. Tori refused to look at anyone. Zane wasn’t surprised there. She spent a lot of time with Archer, though Zane knew they weren’t dating, but she was the opposite of confrontational.

  Zane shoved his hands in his pockets, found a narrow slice of unoccupied wall, and clenched his jaw shut, determined not to say anything else until he could wrap his brain around his own feelings.

  *** *** *** ***

  “Be right back.” Tori’s whisper barely carried over the explosions on screen. They were in the center of the aisle, which meant Riley didn’t have to move, but everyone else down the aisle did.

  Riley gave her a half nod. With Tori on one side and Archer on the other, she felt too far from Zane. Which was good—or was it bad?—since she still regretted ending the earlier part of their night so abruptly. She was reading too much into things. The entire point of fooling around with Zane was to keep her from thinking she’d fallen for yet another guy.

  When someone dropped into the seat next to her, she glanced to see if it was Tori, or someone she should evict. When she saw Zane, her heart fluttered, and she turned her attention back to the screen. Despite her half-assed attempt to ignore him, the heat of his arm a few inches from hers and the familiar scent of his cologne made it difficult.

  He set a box of Red Vines on her knee. His warm breath brushed her ear. “You should eat.”

  “Thanks.” She kept her gaze forward, hating her body for reacting to the contact.

  Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him intertwine his fingers in his lap and slump lower in the seat. She tapped her toes inside her shoes. She wouldn’t make a big deal out of his gesture, even though he had brought her favorite candy, and it was reminding her she’d skipped dinner.

  She couldn’t help it. She tilted her head toward him and kept her voice low, so she wouldn’t disrupt anyone else. “How did you get Tori to switch seats with you?”

  He kept his mouth near her ear, the heat filling her with another pleasant rush she didn’t want to acknowledge. “Intercepted her in the hallway.”

  Warmth spread through her at the gesture that summoned memories of the afternoon in the mountains. She already had trouble focusing on the on-screen love interest, who would almost definitely be gone by the next film in the franchise. “We’re not a couple. We don’t have to sit together.” She loved that he did these things for her. The tiny acts without thought. But she didn’t want him to feel obligated. Didn’t like the voice asking if it was because they were screwing now, even though she knew it was something he’d always done.

  “I know.” The two words fell softly against her cheek. “But we would have before.”

  She tried to hide her smirk at the sound logic, and failed. “Touché.”

  He bumped his shoulder against hers. “Can I have some of your candy?”

  She sank into her seat, arm next to his on the rest. “I guess. Just this once.”

  As the movie tore on, her mood continued to lighten. The four of them cheered with the rest of the crowd and booed and dragged their feet, waiting for that one tiny glimpse of the next film, as the credits rolled.

  They stumbled into the night, and Riley paused outside, blinking while her eyes adjusted to the bright streetlights lining the parking lot.

  “So”—Tori’s exclamation was loud in the still night—“Mr. Rich-but-Arrogant in the costume. Absolutely hot.”

  “I could wear a costume.” Archer’s feigned hurt was exaggerated.

  “You would be just as irritating as he was,” Riley pointed out. “Ms. Sexy-Spy-Lady? I would love to be able to fight like that.” She kicked into the air and promptly stumbled over a crack.

  Tori caught her and pushed her upright again. “Get Zane to teach you. He’s got the mad moves, right?”

  An unexpected flush coursed through Riley, along with images of some of the moves Zane had shown her so far. She ducked her head, hoping her thoughts didn’t show on her face. “I’m not nearly that coordinated.”

  “But”—Zane interjected—“you’d look a million times better in the black leather than she did.”

  “He’s right.” Tori turned to walk backward, studying Riley. “I could absolutely make you something like that. I bet Archer would pay you just to stand around the store in it. Can you imagine the draw?”

  “I can imagine cleaning the drool off the glass counters.” Archer didn’t sound bothered. “I’d still let you do it.”

  The attention drew Riley’s embarrassed flush out further. She was having too much fun to spoil the moment, but she wanted a subject that wasn’t her. “I can’t believe it’s after three. I am so tired and so wired. I won’t get anything done at work tomorrow. Or is that today?”

  “So call in sick,” Zane said. “I’ll forge you a doctor’s note.”

  Archer held up his hands. “I don’t want to hear anything about the two of you playing doctor.”

  Riley feigned an exhausted stumble, a bit for fun, and a bit to indicate the tiredness was sinking in. Warmth flooded her veins when Zane caught her. She pushed upright again. “Seriously. I need coffee. We should go to Denny’s. If I have to work in the morning anyway, why sleep?”

  “I can do Denny’s.” Archer pulled his keys from his pocket. “I’m with Zane, though. Call in sick. Stop by the shop and pick up the stack of manga I’ve been holding for you. Unless you’ve got something better to read.”

  Riley was about to agree, when Zane cut in. “I’m guessing reading someone else’s work isn’t the same, when you’ve got your own to focus on.”

  The warm fuzzies flitting through Riley beat a rapid escape but didn’t take her embarrassment with them. Please don’t let him do this. Her gut sank. “Denny’s?”

  “Wait. Really?” Archer studied her, curiosity and doubt in his hazel eyes. “Are you doing more than just dabbling now?”

  “She’s going pro.” Zane smirked.

  She was going to kill him. Or something. Why was he doing this to her? The private support was one thing, but getting friends and family to gang up on her, bombarding her with so many expectations, when she didn’t even know if she had what it took to make it, was too much.

  “For real?” Archer raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure?”

  She furrowed her brow. How was she supposed to respond to that? “I haven’t decided yet. It gets
difficult to pick a direction, when someone”—she glared at Zane—“keeps telling everyone before I’ve made up my mind.”

  Zane frowned and turned away.

  “You know he’s biased.” Archer didn’t back down. “It’s really hard to make it in that market. You can’t be good. You have to be the best.”

  Zane’s eyes narrowed. “She is the best.”

  “She’s good.” Archer shrugged. “I’m just saying.”

  “Well, don’t,” Zane said.

  Riley’s good mood evaporated, the truth of Archer’s words sinking in. Maybe suggesting they all go for coffee was a bad idea. Exhaustion overtook her thoughts, pushed on a wave of Archer’s doubt. He might be a lot of things she didn’t like, but he also never sugarcoated the truth, the way Zane did. Archer had a point. She’d have to be the best, and she wasn’t.

  Chapter Twelve

  Riley didn’t want to go through the front door. She didn’t want to do this in front of Archer and every other customer in the shop, but Zane was in there, behind the counter, not looking quite genuine as he laughed with his friends. She pushed inside, and Archer grinned.

  “Hey. Are you here for the manga after all?” he asked.

  She was there for her drawings, but she knew that wasn’t what he meant. She looked at Zane, hoping her expression conveyed how desperately she didn’t want to discuss details. “Technically.”

  Zane straightened up. “Hey.”

  “I need back that thing you borrowed yesterday.” It took a force of will to keep the tension from her voice. She didn’t care that Zane still had her sketchpad; she didn’t want to talk about it with an audience. Her ego was bruised enough without another dig from Archer. But asking if she and Zane could talk privately would expose as much of her.

  “So this is what it’s like to be on the outside of her vague questions.” Archer looked back and forth between them, his tone too light, given the tension in the room.

  Zane rolled his eyes and turned to Riley, expression softening. “It’s in my apartment.”

  “Sounds perfect.” She ignored the way Archer clenched his jaw, and followed Zane upstairs. When he held his apartment door open for her, she brushed past without a word, pacing the short distance between the living room and kitchen areas before turning on her toe and heading in the other direction.

  He leaned back against the door, hands in his pockets. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

  “Nothing. Just… Nothing. I need my sketchpad back.”

  He kicked away from the door and crossed the room to stand next to the kitchen table, directly in her pacing path. “It’s obviously not nothing.”

  “You think?” She came up short, a few feet back. “You really can’t figure it out?” An irritation she hadn’t realized was there surged forward.

  He shrugged.

  “You can’t just go around telling everyone what I’m trying to do with my art.”

  “I won’t, if you ask me not to, but can I at least know why?”

  She clenched her teeth. How could he not get it? “Because of conversations like this. Because even though it’s awesome that you support my decision, you don’t understand what it takes. Kenzie and Archer—they don’t get it. Every time they voice their opinion, it’s another layer of doubt, taunting me and telling me I’m making a mistake. It’s more pressure and doesn’t help that I’m terrified of showing my work to a lot of people.”

  The confession was out, and though it left a gnawing in her gut, it also felt good.

  The corners of his mouth drooped. “I didn’t realize.”

  She sighed. “I adore you—you know it—and I’m flattered you think I’m talented. I’m not sure you’re right, but I like hearing it.”

  He closed the distance between them. “You should have told me sooner.”

  “I’m telling you now.”

  His smile grew hopeful. “I promise I’ll try to keep it all in mind. Are we’re good again?” Zane asked.

  She smiled. “Yeah, we’re good again.”

  “Which means make-up sex.” The way he raked his gaze over her, lingering on each curve, contradicted his teasing tone.

  She couldn’t help her relieved laugh or the flush of heat the idea brought with it. “Technically, I don’t think we get make-up sex without a breakup, and we can’t have one of those.”

  “Okay.” He traced a finger down the side of her face. “Then best-friend sex.”

  “Is that a thing?”

  He brushed his lips along the outside of her ear. “Isn’t it? Besides”—his voice dropped an octave—“I can’t stop thinking about how tight and wet you were last night. How you let me take control.”

  The confidence in his words made her skin tingle and her pulse race. “It was pretty amazing.”

  “Amazing.” He trailed his fingers up her spine. “I like that. Would you let me do it again?”

  Warmth spread deep in her belly. “Maybe.”

  “Uh-uh.” He broke contact with her but didn’t pull away. “Yes-or-no question. I know what I want, but I’m not doing it unless you’re sure.”

  She swallowed, body humming in anticipation. “I’m positive.”

  Her comment was cut short when he nipped her bottom lip with his teeth. He twisted his fingers in her hair and pulled her back to him, crushing his mouth against hers. The smell of sweat mingled with the scents of musk and deodorant. An insistent need grew between her legs.

  She covered his other hand and pushed it farther up her thigh, hooking her knee on his hip. Something whispered in the back of her mind that they couldn’t keep toeing this line. She ignored it. This was exactly what she wanted. She needed to be closer to him.

  He slid his hand along her ass and up over the curve of her hip, a chuckle rumbling in his chest. He moved his mouth back to her neck, his breath tickling her skin. “During the entire movie, I couldn’t stop daydreaming about how it felt to be buried inside you.”

  The confession in his words made her thoughts melt and her skin ache for more. She fumbled for a good comeback, but her attempts failed when he grazed the soft spot between her neck and shoulders and sucked on the sensitive flesh.

  He found the seam of her jeans that ran between her legs. She whimpered when he applied pressure with his fingers, rubbing her already wet slit through denim. She dug her nails into his back, squeaked, and shifted her weight until her aching button settled under his touch. He massaged harder, and she ground against his hand, feeling her climax build.

  Her breathing came in short gasps, so many points of contact making her light-headed. Disappointment washed over her when he pulled away.

  He kissed her pout and then moved to stand behind her, leaving her between him and the table. He brushed the outside of her ear with his lips and rested his hands on her stomach. “You trust me, right?”

  She swallowed, mouth dry from anticipation, not doubt. She made sure her answer was clear, without any waver. “Yes.”

  His chest was hot against her back. “And you’re okay with wherever this goes?”

  “More than okay.” Her heart hammered, as a million images of what he meant taunted her simultaneously.

  He tugged her shirt over her head and tossed it aside. “No bra. Makes this easier.”

  He moved his hands to her breasts and kneaded the soft flesh. She arched her back against him when he finally reached her nipples. He pinched both at the same time and fire spread through every inch of her. He bit the soft skin between her neck and shoulder, sucking in time to her moans. His hard arousal dug into her ass. She wanted more, but she also wanted to stretch the moment out and enjoy the prolonged teasing.

  He dropped his hands to her waist, not fumbling at all as he undid her jeans. He hooked his thumbs over the waistband and tugged everything to the floor, leaving her exposed from head to foot, and binding her ankles.

  Cool air rushed in around her, and her pulse pounded under her skin. She’d never had a guy take control like this before. She and Zane had
talked about it several times. Now that it was actually happening, it made her head fuzzy, and she wanted more.

  He cupped her ass before sliding his hand between her legs. “Fuck. You’re so wet.” His growl vibrated through her back.

  “I think you had a lot to do with that.” She closed her eyes, focusing on as many sensations as she could.

  He massaged her slit, not dipping inside or reaching high enough to brush her clit. He placed his free palm against her spine and pushed her forward.

  She did as prompted, bending at the waist and leaning over the table. The hard oak pressed into her chest and aching nipples. He held her in place. Her desire swelled when he dropped his hand from between her legs, and the faint but familiar sound of a zipper greeted her. A few seconds later, she heard the crinkle of cellophane.

  He ran his hands from her shoulders down her arms, and pulled her wrists together. He grabbed both hands in one of his and pinned them in the small of her back. He spread her lower lips with his fingers, teasing her entrance.

  She couldn’t hold out much longer. “Please.”

  “Please what?”

  “Fuck me.”

  He chuckled. There was no warning before he pushed inside, and her moan echoed off the table at the exquisite pain of being stretched out so much, so fast. He didn’t let up, grunting as he pounded against her. The friction of having her legs together, combined with the spot he hit in her pushed her toward climax hard and fast. Her breathing came in short gasps, and she couldn’t hold back the cries as she came.

  She clenched around his cock, his erection buried deep inside her. She gasped when he found her clit at the height of her orgasm, and he rubbed the throbbing button. Part of her wanted to pull away, because it was almost too much, but the pleasure continued to assault her in waves. He slammed inside her, and her nipples scuffed against the wood grain with each new thrust. Another orgasm taunted her, bringing her right to the edge, but not further.

  His breathing grew shallower, his thrusts more abbreviated and frantic. “I want you to come for me again.” It was a command, not a request. Instead of teasing, he pressed his fingers roughly against her clit.