In Bed With the Competition

by J. K. Coi

  Before he kissed her, he needed her to say it. “Then tell me what you want,” he murmured.

  “I want to stay here. In this room. With you.” She leaned her body against him. “Not working.”

  “Thank God.” He crushed her mouth in a hard kiss. A deep kiss. A kiss that immediately sent him reeling, it felt too desperate, too needy.

  Afraid of overwhelming her—and maybe himself—he tried to pull it back and go slow, but her fevered response was instant, like a tidal wave crashing in on the shore. They even weaved on their feet as if the force would carry them away beneath the surface.

  Her mouth opened under his, and at the first taste of Caribbean spices from dinner and the tangy bite of red wine on her tongue, his need ramped up. He slid his hands under the hem of her thin tank top and pushed it up her torso until it bunched under her breasts. He rubbed thumbs along the hard silk-covered wire sewed into her bra until they met at her sternum and his hands were practically cupping her.

  “Lift your arms.”

  She raised them straight up over her head. “Oh God, yes,” she murmured. “Get me out of these clothes fast.”

  He pulled her shirt off and threw it onto the chair. With his gaze fastened to the sight of her pushing out of a tiny blue silk bra with white lace trim that couldn’t possibly have been designed for actual support, he dragged his own shirt over his head and let it fall to the carpet before covering her mouth once again.

  She was so hot and sweet and perfect, he could spend forever just kissing her, but soon she broke apart with a sexy pant and lowered her hands to his cargo shorts. She never took her eyes off him, pushing down his shorts, and then hers.

  Left in nothing but the pretty bra and a delicate matching thong, she looked like a goddess.

  He dragged her against him, pressing a hand to the small of her back as he hooked his other hand under her knee and lifted her leg up his flank. She stood against him, up on her toes, holding on for balance, and he reveled in the sharp sting of her nails digging into his biceps.

  “I’ve been waiting to get you this close again all night,” he said.

  “You’re a master of torture,” she whispered. “I probably would have been finished working much earlier if not for the distraction you made just being here in the same room with me.”

  “I couldn’t tell. Maybe because I was busy imagining icy cold showers.”

  She laughed, all throaty with desire. “Maybe once I get you out of my system, I’ll be able to focus better.”

  “Well, I’m all for giving it a shot.” He chuckled, but he didn’t like the uncomfortable stab of irritation. The reminder that she was still thinking of the two of them as a simple fling, something for her to use to scratch an itch, bothered him more than he wanted to admit.

  She tipped her head all the way back, exposing her throat and lifting her breasts against his chest. He kissed her and wrapped his arms around her, lifting her right off her feet. She wrapped her legs around his waist.

  “On the bed or against the wall?”

  Chapter Twelve

  Liz jerked her head up. “Wh-what?”

  His smile was playful. “Too late, the decision is mine,” he said.

  With one knee on the mattress, Ben laid her on the bed and followed her down. She thought she was prepared for the intimacy of this, of him, but was still shocked at the feel of his weight on top of her, solid and heavy like he was going to leave an impression.

  He tugged one bra strap off her shoulder and down her arm, then the other. Impatient, she awkwardly twisted her hands behind her back to undo the clasp. He smiled and held her still, gently trapping her arms beneath her.

  She gave a little tug, but wasn’t going to be able to move unless he shifted position. “What are you doing?”

  He lifted a brow, and she realized what a stupid question that was. “I’m doing what I’ve wanted to do for days.”

  “Hold me down and take advantage of me?” In fact, that sounded like a brilliant idea. A deliciously erotic idea. She would be completely on board with such a thing if it meant he was going to do it now.

  “I’m going to strip these skimpy pieces of silk off you with my own two hands. Maybe with my teeth, and then slowly take my time exploring every inch of your body.”

  She shuddered, the rush of desire his words evoked sending her into a smoking tailspin. It wasn’t until he groaned her name that she realized she was making tight circles against him with her hips, and she’d hooked one ankle over his waist.

  “Damn, woman. You’re not going to make it easy to go slow, are you?”

  “Slow?” This was going to be pure torture. Torture designed to make her scream and beg.

  He ducked his head and opened his mouth over the silk of her bra while he guided her arms back out from under her. When he lifted his head, she glanced down at the wet circle clinging to her hard nipple. Her chest rose and fell rapidly.

  He pulled at the cups of her bra, leaving the band fastened around her so that she could feel the thin shoulder straps teasing her sides.

  Then she felt nothing but his tongue and his hands.

  He stayed true to his word to take his time. Squirming beneath him, she silently begged him to take her to the next level, but actual coherent words were beyond her ability to manage. And when he finally reached under her to undo the clasp of her bra and flung the garment aside, his mouth trailed a slow, hot, wet path between her breasts all the way to her bellybutton…and then lower.

  She buried her hands in his hair as his scratchy chin scraped the insides of her thighs and his mouth pressed against her.

  He built the pressure up and up until she couldn’t stand anymore, but he was in complete control, playing her body like a violin and pushing her right over the edge of reason. A startled shout escaped as her core squeezed and convulsed, but he didn’t let up until her shuddering subsided and her moans softened to weak whispers.

  Her eyelids fluttered open to the magnificent sight of his wide, bronzed body poised above her.

  “Let me grab a condom.” His voice was husky. His eyes glowed. His jaw clenched. She was mesmerized by the evidence of his arousal. The knowledge that she affected him so strongly made her feel ultra-sexy, maybe even the most powerful woman in the world.

  “Box. Bedside table,” she said.

  He tore open a wrapper, and when he came back over her, he took her mouth in a surprisingly soft kiss. She’d been expecting heat and urgency, but this was tempered by a surprising gentleness as he cupped her face in his hands and pressed his body into hers.

  Her heels dug hard into the mattress as she strained to feel everything. She wanted to memorize the experience. Every tingle, every movement, every ache from muscles that hadn’t been active like this for far too long.

  She gasped at the slow, deliberate intrusion, her fingernails digging crescent moons into Ben’s arms. When he was as deep inside her as could be, he stopped kissing her and leaned back. She hadn’t even realized she’d clenched her eyes shut until she forced them back open to look up at him.

  “What is it?” she squeaked, wondering why he watched her that way, as if he was looking into her, into the private part of her soul where she hid all the insecurities and worries that had formed a part of her, as well as all the dreams and goals she’d been fighting to achieve. “What do you see?”

  “Just you.” There was something more in his expression than she could decipher. The thumb that traced her lips and smoothed up across the apple of her cheek was tender.

  It could just be nostalgia, but what if it wasn’t? What if it was something deeper?

  She didn’t know if she could handle that. Could she take such a risk? Risk meant she had more to lose, and losing Ben again after all this would tear her apart.

  “You’re so damn beautiful,” he said. He planted his arms in the pillow on either side of her head and eased out slowly until she grabbed his hips to keep him with her and he stilled. “Every bit as devastating as I knew
you would be, and more so.”

  She ducked her forehead against his chest, heat flooding her cheeks. Of all the…after everything they’d already gotten up to this week—including being caught topless in the middle of the Caribbean—this is what caused her to blush?

  “Beautiful? I guess every woman looks beautiful when she’s naked in bed and begging you for more.” She forced out a laugh.

  “Don’t do that.” His jaw tightened. “This isn’t about ‘every woman.’ It’s about you. Just you and me here together.”

  Her emotions spiraled out of control. “Oh, Ben.”

  “Don’t get me wrong, I thought you were gorgeous the very first day we met,” he continued, lips curling as he tipped her face back up to his. “But now you’ve got this…glow.”

  “Glow?” Her head thrashed from side to side. “Are you certain it’s not just, ah…” She groaned as she tried to concentrate on his words, but it was so hard when he started to move, stroking her so good. In and out. Long. Deep. Ahhh Jeez. “Sure it’s not…you know?”

  “The lovely flush of sex?” Was he actually teasing her now? He seemed to be having way too much fun with this conversation, while she could barely breathe for wanting him.

  She pulled on his arms and hooked her ankles together at the small of his back, teetering on the edge of ecstasy.

  “Whatever it is and wherever it comes from, it’s beautiful and hot and sexy. And I intend to bask in it.” He cupped her breast and lowered his head. “All. Night. Long.” Each of his words was punctuated by a killer flick of his tongue against her nipple.

  She arched up against him, tightening her thighs around his hips. “Ben, please. I can’t take any more. I need…”

  “What?” His movements hastened, a deep throaty groan rumbling over her hot and sweaty skin as his mouth traced back up to hers. “What do you need?”

  His eyes were dark pools, and she couldn’t believe she’d thought he wasn’t as affected as she was just because he had been able to retain the gift of speech.

  Desire. Need. It was there in his eyes and the hard lines of his face. It was in the tense muscles holding him above her.

  “You,” she whispered. “I want you.”

  He dropped his head and rasped her name, making her tremble uncontrollably. She let the rhythm take her over and gave into the tension spiraling within her until it exploded in a massive umbrella of sparks and colors. As she cried out, Ben did as well. His body shuddered and stiffened above her.

  Finally, he pressed his forehead to hers while they both waited for their breathing to calm down. His eyes were closed, and his nose almost touched hers in an Eskimo kiss.

  They stayed like that for a long time. When Liz finally shifted one leg off his hip because of a twitching muscle, he pressed a hard kiss on her lips and lifted himself off her.

  “Stay right there,” he said gently. “Let me dispose of this, and I’ll pour what’s left of that bottle of wine on my way back.”

  Right. She glanced down with a nod. The condom. “I still want to try it against the wall,” she murmured with a smile.

  He chuckled. “Well then in that case, give me a minute and join me in the shower. There’s a wall in there we can practice on.”

  When the door to the bathroom closed, she threw her arm over her head and looked up at the ceiling. Self-consciousness and cold uncertainty started to settle in pretty much immediately.

  What was this? Ben had never promised her anything. Certainly not more than the island fling she’d practically asked for that day out on the boat. But he had asked her to come to New York with him once. Could those feelings be revived? Could they have something more than just…whatever this was?

  Part of her wanted it so badly she could taste it, but she didn’t dare let herself think about the logistics of a relationship with someone who not only lived across the country but who also represented her biggest professional competitor…and every deep-seated fear she’d ever had.

  She shifted and leaned over the edge of the bed. Her thong was crumpled up on the floor and she reached down to grab it, then scootched across to the other side of the mattress, looking for her bra, but it wasn’t there. Glancing around the room, she finally spotted it on the table where Ben had been working earlier. How the hell had it gotten there?

  As she stretched out to grab it, her hand brushed the track pad of his laptop, bringing the screen to bright wakefulness. She politely looked away but the name on the screen had already caught her eye and despite herself, she turned back.

  She felt guilty even as she squinted to see more clearly. She was looking at Ben’s email inbox, and the message at the top of the list was from Jemarcho’s president, with a re: line that read “Investment Offer.”

  Crap. Crap. Crap. The convention just got started! She wanted to believe that there was some other reason why Diego Vargas would email Ben about an investment offer already, other than the one that alternatively meant she would not be getting such an email, either now or after her company received Tyson Wallace’s stamp of approval.

  And he’d known. This email had already been read. But when? Before or after he’d told her he was “sure” Vargas would invest in Sharkston?

  The time stamp on the message was from early that evening. She noticed then that the message directly below it was from Ben’s partner, Steve Nolan. The subject line on that one was “Distraction plan working—keep it up.” Her stomach bottomed out as she realized what that must mean. All her fledgling hopes for a future with Ben washed away like cloudy water down the drain.

  The water in the bathroom turned off. Liz slapped the screen of Ben’s laptop down and jerked back to the middle of the bed, clutching the sheet to her bare chest.

  He came into the room with a devastating, expectant smile that was like a knife in her heart, but his expression changed almost immediately when he looked at her.

  His gaze shifted to the table and back. His lips pressed into a thin line. Yeah, he knew what she’d seen. “You couldn’t help yourself?” he said flatly. “I suppose it’s my fault for not turning off the computer.”

  She was not going to defend herself. “And I suppose you just couldn’t help playing games?”

  “What games? What do you think it is that you saw?”

  “Enough to know you’re getting exactly what you wanted all over the damn place, and I’m going to be left out in the cold.”

  “So you spy on someone else’s emails, jump to a few conclusions, and that’s it? You think you know everything? You don’t even want to talk about it?”

  “What’s there to talk about? How do you plan to explain yourself?”

  “I’ve done nothing that I need to explain to you, but I’m more than willing to talk things out reasonably.”

  “Why, so you can distract me some more?” Her voice wavered as the words of his partner’s email swam before her vision. Maybe she was wrong about what she’d seen. Maybe there was some explanation. She would never have believed that Ben could… She clenched her jaw tight. She hated herself for the way she was acting, but couldn’t seem to help it. This wasn’t college anymore, but Ben was still beating her at everything. Only now he was also beating her heart to a bloody pulp, too. She needed time to think. “You should probably go.”

  “Well, I wanted to get you out of my system once and for all. I guess this makes it easy.” He bent to grab his shorts and shirt and pulled them on with quick, sharp movements while she watched as if through a haze, swallowing past the bitter tasting lump in her throat.

  Finally, he picked up his laptop and his bag and walked to the door, just like that.

  Liz smashed her fist into the bedcovers gathered in her lap. She opened her mouth to speak. The words wouldn’t come. Watching him walk out wasn’t what she really wanted, but she couldn’t do it, couldn’t tell him to stay. Those words on the screen kept flashing in front of her eyes. Keep it up.

  He stopped at the door and turned around. Obvious regret shone from his e
yes as he shrugged the strap of his bag over his shoulder.

  Then he was gone.

  She curled up in a ball, wrapping her arms around her knees as she stared at the door. Tears tracked down her face and fell off her chin. She swiped the back of her hand over her eyes and buried her face in the pillow…just in case he could hear through the walls.

  Chapter Thirteen

  For the first time she could remember, Liz awoke before her alarm. But really, she’d been up most of the night, the look on Ben’s face haunting her. He had been…hurt.

  She spent an hour sitting up in bed in the early morning shadows, staring at the digital lines on the bedside clock and reliving the way she’d reacted last night. Of course he was right. She’d jumped to conclusions, which, even if they were true, was no reason for her to have acted like a brat having a hissy fit. And she shouldn’t have sent him away without at least talking things through.

  But she’d been hurt too, damn it.

  Would she have felt so irrational if they hadn’t just had the most intense sex of her life? If he hadn’t baldly admitted that he’d slept with her to “get her out of his system”? He’d never handled failure well—maybe because he rarely failed at anything—but she hadn’t expected him to consider her refusal to go to New York as one. Suddenly, it all felt like a game, a game she should have known he was playing. Turning her into an idiot, a dupe.

  Ben Harrison scrambled her brains, put holes in her good sense, and churned up all her emotions. Had she really thought she could handle him on a personal level and still do her job here this week? Ha!

  Finally, she got up and took a shower, then, with a renewed determination that the game wasn’t over yet, she went to talk to Daniel. She knocked on his door a couple of times and was relieved when he opened it.

  “Hi,” she said. “Do you have a few minutes?”

  “Sure.” He waved her inside. Overall, he looked better than he had yesterday.

  “We need to fine-tune our strategy if we’re going to get those investment dollars,” she said after he closed the door behind her. “Optimus Inc. has been wining and dining Diego Vargas, and I think they’re close to swaying him over to their side, so we have to up our game.”