Make Me Want (Men of Gold Mountain)

by Rebecca Brooks

  But a pause on the entire firebreak? She’d started off elated. She could take this information and run with it, start an endangered species petition and make a formal case to the government for why the firebreak had to be stopped. It would give her something concrete to bring to the hiring committee to prove she was ready to move up at the center.

  But then Russ stormed in.

  Abbi had sent a man to jail when she was sixteen. Then she’d turned around, faced the judgment of her family, her friends, and her school, and kept right on living.

  She did what she wanted, when she wanted. She didn’t cry just because some asshole threw a tantrum in her office.

  Or maybe she didn’t know herself as well as she’d thought, because tonight, she’d been terrified.

  “Leave.”

  Tyler’s voice was like nothing she’d ever heard. Certainly nothing she thought was capable of coming from his mouth.

  This wasn’t the man who’d kissed her nose and called her Blue and paid attention to how she took her coffee. This wasn’t even the man who’d pinned her down and thrust deeply inside.

  This was a man she’d never met, one who saw danger and ran right toward it, fists clenched, eyes blazing with their own kind of flame.

  “Get the fuck out of here, Russ,” Tyler snarled. “Don’t even dream of contacting Abbi again.”

  He wasn’t faking it. There was nothing in his voice that said he was stepping in just for show. He meant every word he was saying.

  Some part of Abbi couldn’t believe it worked. But of course all Tyler had to do was puff up his chest and get growly, when the same thing from Abbi had zero effect.

  Russ was leaving. He was actually leaving. But before he did, he used his boot to prop open the door. “Nice job getting loverboy to do your dirty work for you,” he sneered at Abbi.

  Then he turned to Tyler. “It’s not worth it, man. This firebreak doesn’t go through, it fucks up your job, too. And you know that no matter what, she’s just going to throw you away like she always does.”

  He shook his head as though they were suddenly buds, two dudes commiserating over how they’d been burned.

  But Tyler wasn’t anything like him.

  “Fuck off,” he growled, and slammed the door in Russ’s face.

  They waited, breathing hard into the heavy silence, listening to Russ’s footsteps ringing down the hall. After a moment, the front door to the building banged open and shut. Abbi gestured for Tyler to follow. But he folded his arms and stared.

  “I’m not leaving you alone right now,” he said.

  “Fuck you, too, Tyler,” she spat, turning away.

  He looked stunned, but she was shaking and couldn’t stop herself from saying it.

  Because Russ had been right. What was wrong with her, acting like everything was peachy now that her fireman was here to save her? Hadn’t she learned her lesson not to let anyone control her this way?

  He wasn’t even her boyfriend. He wasn’t anything to her.

  Tyler dropped his arms. “I know you’re going to tell me you were fine, Abbi. But look at this place. Nothing about that was fine.”

  Russ had thrown a metal chair against the bookshelf. Books littered the floor, covers bent from the fall. Thankfully the bookshelf was still standing. Thankfully Russ hadn’t targeted something softer, more breakable. Like her.

  Tears smarted behind Abbi’s eyes. She took a deep breath and blinked them back. “You said you weren’t going to do that anymore.”

  “I don’t care what you say, Abbi. I’m not going to turn the other way when he’s threatening you.”

  “And you wonder why I might not be thrilled to have you swoop in when you tell me you don’t give a shit what I say?”

  He threw up his hands. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

  “Do the words ‘I don’t care what you say’ mean something different to you?”

  He was around the desk and by her side in an instant. “I care about everything you say, Abbi. I care about you. That’s why I’m so angry. Especially when this is only getting worse.”

  She twisted out of his reach. “I don’t want to owe you.”

  “Come on, Abbi. Is that what this is about? There’s no scorecard. You’re not stuck on a repayment plan.”

  She slumped against the desk. All the fight was leaving her body. She was angry with Russ, not Tyler. And she was angry with herself.

  “If you really mean that, then don’t leave,” she said quietly. “I haven’t heard Russ’s car yet.”

  She hated herself for saying it, for the way she was using him. But he lifted her chin so she was looking in his eyes when he said, “I promise, I’m not going anywhere.”

  They were supposed to be faking it when everyone else was around, because they were in too deep to come clean.

  But no one was watching them now. Only Tyler’s hand was still stroking her jaw. And she was still aching for more.

  “I don’t—” she started, and his hand stopped caressing her cheek.

  “What?” he whispered when she couldn’t go on.

  “I don’t want to have to fuck you as some way to say thank you.”

  Oh, God. How had she said that when a simple I don’t think we should do this anymore would suffice?

  “Abbi.” He pulled back to stare at her. “What could possibly make you think I’d expect that?”

  She looked away, embarrassed. Tyler thought she was a fool.

  What had happened for those sixteen months in high school, when everything felt sharp and alive with such dizzying risk—all of that was Cash’s fault. Adult Abbi knew that. The law sure as hell had decided that, too.

  And yet—

  She couldn’t say she’d hated every second of those sixteen months before Cash was taken away. She couldn’t say she hadn’t been excited sometimes to know that she alone could make a grown man tremble, make him do such incredible things.

  She’d even believed, for a time, that she was better than all the other girls at school, because she was the one he chose. What we have is so special, Cash used to say as he slid a finger down her white cotton underwear with tiny pink dots, the kind her mom bought in jumbo packs and sent her off with for the school year. No one else will ever understand.

  And hadn’t she let him do that? When he drove her to the airport in Boston that first time and asked if she was going to miss him over Christmas, hadn’t she been the one to reach over and put her hand in his?

  It was her fault that the line had been crossed. That he’d taken that same hand and drawn it to the bulge against his zipper. His proof, he said, of how much he was going to miss her.

  Boston was far, he had a lot of work to do, yet he was doing her this favor so she didn’t have to take the bus. Didn’t she want to thank him for being so kind?

  There had to be something wrong with her. Something inside her that men like Cash, like Russ, could see. Something that said she’d be easy to take, easy to manipulate, easy to do what they said.

  She didn’t want Tyler to know that about her. She never wanted him to see her that way.

  Tyler was so strong, and yet his hand felt so tentative as he touched her. “Abbi. Did somebody hurt you?”

  She shook her head. Her face felt hot, so many different kinds of flames—fear, desire, embarrassment, regret. And wanting. When she was with him, she was always wanting.

  “I’m fine,” she said, keeping control over her voice. “I just wanted to make sure we’re on the same page—that you know helping me with Russ, or keeping the story going when we’re both in the office, doesn’t automatically mean this is where we go.”

  She may not have given him the full story, but she could honestly say none of that was a lie.

  “I want to kiss you, Blue. Kiss me because you want to, too.”

  She let her mouth open, let his tongue find her. It didn’t mean she wanted him to keep saving her. It didn’t mean she forgave him for sending that email detailing his plans.


  But it felt so good, so right to be with him.

  “There are still a million reasons why we shouldn’t be doing this,” she murmured.

  “I don’t care.”

  “I ruined your job.”

  She could feel his smile against her mouth.

  “For now,” he conceded as he kissed her hungrily.

  Alarm bells blared in her mind. What was that supposed to mean?

  But later, she would deal with it later. She was too busy kissing him to let the future get in the way.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Tyler pressed her back against the desk. Her shirt had snaps, not buttons, and he tugged the fabric at her throat. Snap. Then across her chest. Snap. Her stomach. Snap. All the way down.

  His lips brushed her ear. “Do you still want me to go?”

  He was terrible, a tease. But Abbi wasn’t going to push him away.

  “Russ might still be in the parking lot, having a smoke.”

  It was the flimsiest excuse and Tyler laughed, low and mocking, in her ear. “Guess we’ll have to find a way to entertain ourselves.” He pulled her shirt over her shoulders so her arms were pinned. She squirmed against him, trying to get out of her bonds, excitement coursing through her when she couldn’t.

  He held her arms in place as he used his teeth to yank down the cups to her bra. “Look at you,” he murmured, taking in the sight of her nipples hardening at the promise of his tongue.

  She arched her back, legs kicking against the desk. She couldn’t move, couldn’t do anything but whimper as he brought his mouth roughly to her breasts. She was helpless as he held her there.

  But it was such a different helplessness than what she’d felt with Russ. Than what she’d felt so often in the past.

  She was the one who brought out this passion in Tyler, who filled him with need. She may have been pinned in place, but she had all the power here. The power to make him desperate, hungry. The power to make him crave.

  He unbuttoned her jeans and yanked them down. She’d barely stepped out of them before he took her in one arm and roughly turned her, bending her over the desk.

  Abbi let out a whimper. She needed this so badly, there was no way she could wait.

  Come on, Tyler. Don’t always be the good guy. Go ahead and fuck me.

  His hand snaked around her body, fingers under her underwear.

  “Please,” she panted as he slid a finger inside her.

  His forehead touched the back of her head and he groaned. “You’re so wet, Abbi. But I’m going to make you wetter.”

  His finger hooked inside her, stroking firmly. It made her thighs tremble and her chest constrict. She bent forward, bracing herself against the desk, rising up on her toes to get him right…there. Yes. Oh God, yes. Did she think that, or did she say it aloud? She didn’t care.

  He took off her blouse and pulled her underwear down. She was naked except for her bra, still hooked and twisted, doing nothing to hold in her breasts. He was fully clothed. She’d make a motion to even out the situation but it made her crazy to know she was going to be taken, that he couldn’t wait another second to be inside her.

  She curled her fingers around the edge of the desk, waiting for the slide of his cock over her skin, the opening that would be both too much and not enough all at once…

  And felt instead his hands on her hips tilting her all the way up and the press of his tongue, hot and wet, opening her from the inside.

  Oh.

  God.

  Abbi was no ingénue. It wasn’t like she hadn’t been licked before. Her first time had been in Cash’s office, with a chair lodged against a door without a lock. It wasn’t like she didn’t know she liked it.

  But she’d never been licked this way, bent over, so open and exposed. She’d never felt the heat of a wet tongue sliding from the aching bud of her clit along her soft folds and then all the way up to where his fingers spread her open for him.

  She shuddered, trying to hold in her cry. She was afraid if she let herself go, she would scream. It didn’t matter that they were alone in the office, it was a thousand percent unlikely Russ was still hanging around in the parking lot, and they were off a dirt road so no one would hear. She still couldn’t give in, no matter how much giving in was exactly what she wanted.

  She’d felt a different kind of helplessness than she’d ever known, and now she felt a different kind of fear. It scared her how good this felt. How could he do such a thing to her?

  “Fuck me, Tyler,” she pleaded. “Just fuck me already.”

  Not because what he was doing didn’t feel good. Because it felt too good. She was too naked, too open. She felt too close to him.

  He slapped her ass, just straight up slapped it, and ran his thumb over her scorched skin.

  “You’re going to get this wet for me and barely let me taste?”

  This wasn’t the quick, rough fuck she’d thought she wanted, the kind that would make her heart race until it was over too soon, her orgasm so fast she might have missed it but for the residual trembling in her thighs.

  This was him claiming every inch of her. Making her fall apart until she was limp, shaking. So that when he pressed his tongue somewhere she’d never expected a near-stranger’s tongue should go, she collapsed down, head on the desk, and conceded the fact that she was his. Anything he wanted to do to her, she was his.

  At last she heard the crinkle of the condom and felt his cock skim over her skin and between her thighs, teasing her clit. She lay on the desk, up on her toes, legs spread. It was all she’d ever wanted. The pure and utter pleasure as he slid in.

  She could feel the brush of the bottom of his T-shirt, the scratch of his pants against the back of her thighs. It reminded her that they were in her office, that technically anyone could walk in right now, that no matter how good this felt it was a quick fuck and nothing more…

  And that was supposed to be what she wanted. It was all she usually wanted, ever since she’d tried so damn hard to make a man love her and lost herself completely.

  But she squeezed her eyes shut, not wanting to think about Cash or love or relationships or heartbreak or how something that felt this right could be over so soon. Not wanting to think about anything at all.

  She was going to have bruises where his hands held her hips as he thrust. She wanted to have bruises. She wanted him to mark her, claim her. She needed proof that this was real, something she could look at in the mirror the next day, and the next, to know what they had done.

  “Can you come?” he asked, but all she did was whimper. He took that as a yes. “Come on my cock,” he said. “You want to be fucked, then come on my cock.”

  So help her, the way Tyler talked made everything tighten at his command. He must have been able to feel it, because he thrust harder, telling her again and again to come, until there was nothing for her to do but surrender.

  Russ used to tell her when to come, but as though she were a change machine—he just had to stick his dick in and orgasms came out. Tyler had worked for this one. He’d earned it. Hell, she’d worked for it, letting it build and then pulling back, not giving up her pleasure too soon.

  She couldn’t hold on any longer. She arched her back to meet him, keeping him firmly over the spot too deep for fingers, too deep for his tongue, perfect for his cock alone. Until the tension broke like a wave and she came.

  She was still feeling the contractions when he tightened his grip on her hips. His cry as he filled her was low, guttural, a moan of total abandonment as they pressed together, drawing out every last sensation.

  Then he kissed his way across her shoulders. Pressed his forehead to her back. It was so sweet after something so dirty. All Abbi could do was close her eyes and feel her world spin.

  She wished there was nothing between them, not clothes and certainly not work. She wished he was in her bed right now, that they were naked together, that she could turn in his arms and bury her face in the crook of his arm. She wanted to feel the warmth
of him, the slick of sweat, rest her hand on his galloping heart and know it was because of her that it raced.

  Instead, all she saw was the office, the mess of papers and books. The crack in the bookshelf where Russ had thrown the chair. The reminder that this was supposed to be a fake relationship to stop her career from tanking—no actual feelings involved.

  It was too much reality at once.

  Tyler slid out of her and grabbed a tissue from the box on her desk to wrap up the condom and throw it away. It was easy for him to pull up his boxers and pants and zip up again, as though nothing had happened.

  Abbi still had to step into her underwear and jeans, fix her bra, get her shirt on again.

  But even that happened disappointingly fast, no chance to linger close to him.

  Her underwear was uncomfortably damp against her clammy skin. She longed for a shower with him, the hot water pounding over them. A short recovery before his hands were on her for round two.

  God, what was making her think like this?

  Abbi knew how to do one-night stands. Two nights, tops. A fuck in her office and a quick peck good-bye seemed like her usual speed. Nothing that lasted long enough for the guy to get too close, to discover the things she had done.

  But nothing with Tyler followed the script she was used to. And she didn’t want it to. She couldn’t bear the thought of saying good night and going home alone. Even if that meant doing the scariest thing to happen this whole night.

  “Tyler,” she said.

  Her voice rang out in the silence between them.

  “Yeah?”

  She swallowed. “I owe you a shower at my place.”

  “That was weeks ago.”

  “The offer still stands.”

  He stared at her for a beat. Then he shook his head. “You don’t owe me, Blue. I’ve got running water at home.”

  So that was it. They really were just fucking.

  And even then, it was only when they wound up stuck together with no other way to pass the time. Nothing they’d just done changed a thing about the firebreak. Or the fact that he was leaving what was starting to seem unbearably soon.

  But if it was so soon, then how could she drop it, pretending she didn’t want more?