by Tessa Bailey
As it always did when she ran into Caroline’s brother, her stomach flipped a little. Nothing behind it. Just pure female appreciation. Helen Keller herself would have had the same reaction. She knew through Caroline that her brother spent every morning in the gym, hungover or not. That dedication had done him, and every female in the vicinity, a major service. Well-honed muscles drew the eye as they shifted under his shirt, within tailored sleeves. Careless bed-head brought to mind an image of him stumbling out of a hotel room, four shades of lipstick on his collar. In fact, she would lay odds that very scenario had taken place more than once. His smile alone radiated such sensual confidence, it had to be illegal in most states and yet, it didn’t even compare to the look.
Oliver Preston looked at women as though he were already inside them.
So, yeah. It tended to throw a girl off her game.
Unless, of course, you were Eliza and you’d known him for seven years, seen him go through upwards of one hundred short-term relationships and countless one-night stands. Then you would know he looked at every woman the same way, and it meant nothing. Nothing. It was just Oliver being Oliver. Women loved him. Men wanted the name of his personal trainer. He was friends with everyone and committed to no one.
If there was an unusually hard glint in his eye when he nodded at Porter, surely she was imagining it.
“Thought it was you. Looking good, babe.” He came forward and pulled her into a crushing hug. She couldn’t help but compare his scent to Porter’s. Clean and familiar instead of darkly mysterious. Over his shoulder, she met Porter’s eyes with a silent apology.
“Oliver, we were just—”
“Heading upstairs,” Porter interjected firmly, making Eliza’s neck heat.
“Yes.” Oliver laid a hand on his chest, looking confused. “But I’m here now.”
Eliza couldn’t stop the laugh that escaped. “If Oliver arrives unexpectedly, all plans are subject to change?”
He winked at her. “Quick as always, aren’t you?”
She shook her head, silently cursing the stupid flip-flop in her belly. How long would she need to know this man before her body stopped counteracting her brain around him? “Listen,” she leaned in and said for Oliver’s ears alone, “you’re cramping my style, playboy. Scram.”
“Sorry. Can’t do it.” He frowned. “And ouch.”
“What do you mean ‘can’t do it’?”
He avoided her gaze. “Is this the first time you’ve been out with this guy?”
“Yes and no. It’s the first time we….”
Blue eyes snapped to hers. “Have gone upstairs?”
Eliza said nothing.
Oliver cleared his throat. “Make an excuse and I’ll take you home. He’s not what you want. This isn’t what you want.”
She felt a punch of irritation. “I’d like to find that out for myself, thank you.”
Porter moved closer and slid an arm around her waist. “Is there a problem?”
“No.”
Oliver’s attention was focused on Porter’s arm, brow quirked. “Yes,” he said slowly, with just a hint of surprise. “It would seem so.”
“Care to share?” Porter asked, a hard edge to his tone.
For a moment, Oliver looked to be debating with himself. Finally, he smiled but it didn’t reach his eyes as usual. “I’d like a word alone with Eliza. Would you mind?”
Porter hesitated a moment before leaning down to whisper in her ear. “I’ll be at the bar. Come get me when you’re done.” His lips brushed her ear and although Eliza couldn’t see him, she got the feeling his gaze was on Oliver. “I hope you don’t keep me waiting too long. I’m eager to get you alone.”
Whoa. Were these two gorgeous men kind of, sort of, fighting over her? She wouldn’t lie. Something about that possibility turned her on in a big way. She’d wanted to be desired and in the blink of an eye, she felt like the only woman in the room.
Oliver’s jaw remained tight until Porter released her and stepped back. “Would you happen to have a business card handy?”
Porter inclined his head and withdrew one from inside the pocket of his button-down shirt. “Why? You in the market for mid-nineteenth century antiques?”
“God, no.” Oliver pocketed the card. “Just putting a name to a face.”
They eyed each other for a moment before Porter turned and disappeared into the crowd.
Eliza punched Oliver in the shoulder. “What the hell was that? I can’t believe you of all people, just cock-blocked me.”
His burst of laughter turned heads. “Easy, bunny. I’m doing you a favor.”
She blew a breath toward the ceiling. “Why do you insist on calling me bunny?”
He bent down and pressed their foreheads together. “Your nose twitches when you get angry.”
“It does not.”
“Don’t worry, it’s adorable just like the rest of you.”
Eliza grumbled in her throat. “Don’t be endearing right now.”
“I can’t find the off switch.” Dimples appeared on either cheek. “Care to perform a search?”
Oh boy. She’d never been required to withstand this much Oliver charm before. Come to think of it, they’d never actually been alone together. Caroline was always there, being the reason they were in the same place at the same time. His mouth had never been this close to hers, his voice rumbling for her ears alone, mere inches separating their bodies. She’d already been aroused from dancing with Porter, and now the heavy feeling below her waist only increased with Oliver’s proximity. She kept waiting for him to step back, put some platonic distance between them, but he didn’t. Just continued watching her in that babe-I’m-inside-you-already way that made the flesh between her thighs throb.
Looked like it would be up to her to put the brakes on. Eliza placed a hand on his chest and pushed him away. “What did you want to talk to me about?”
His smile faded in degrees. “What did you come here for tonight?”
“Same thing as you.”
“And that is?” When she didn’t immediately answer, he shook his head. “If you don’t know, you’re not ready.”
Anger built in Eliza’s chest when his words dismantled her pride. Against her will, a small part of her recognized he might even be right, but the concession did nothing to ease her annoyance. She didn’t like Oliver looking at her with sympathy, when a moment ago, she’d finally felt sexy. How dare he take that feeling away from her, along with her newfound courage? He could sleep his way through the female population of Manhattan, but she couldn’t have one single experience of her own?
That final thought gave her an idea. A terrible one. Even recognizing that only bad things could come from decisions made while pissed off and mildly intoxicated, she still let it percolate. Oliver knew this world. He was part of it. But none of his conquests ever amounted to anything. His resistance to commitment saw to that. She needed to know what she’d be getting into if she and Porter ever made it up the damn stairs again. She wanted to be prepared. What if…
“Teach me.”
Oliver had just taken a sip of his fresh drink. He choked on it now. “What the…what?”
She raised her chin. “If you think I’m not ready, show me, then I will be. You know, teach a man to fish…”
“Bible parables have no place in this discussion.”
“Fair enough.” She leaned in and took a sip of his drink, gaining courage by the way his eyes darkened when she licked the remaining moisture from her upper lip. “Come on, playboy. We’re both adults. I need the experience, and you have enough to fill an encyclopedia.” She thought he flinched, but decided it must have been her imagination. “You don’t have to worry about me getting attached, because, well, I know you. And I get the knowledge I need to seduce Porter. It’s totally normal.”
“Eliza, you’re smoking crack.”
She smirked to let him know she’d been joking. Sort of. “The only crack I see is the one in your resolve. You’
ve never turned down casual sex. Are you really going to start now?”
He scratched the back of his neck. “You’re not my type.”
“My turn to say ouch.”
“You misunderstand. Not being my type is a good thing. You’re a good thing.”
“Too good for you?”
Oliver slowly nodded.
Wow, he really was turning her down. She felt a wave of disappointment, along with another blow to her pride, but convinced herself his disinterest was for the best. What had possessed her? When he’d called her “too good,” he’d meant too green. Not sophisticated or experienced enough for his tastes. She couldn’t come up with another explanation for his reasoning. Maybe he was right…maybe she wasn’t cut out for this. Forcing herself to smile, Eliza stepped back, intending to retrieve her purse from the high, round table she’d been sitting at with Porter. “Never mind. I don’t know why I—”
“Wait.”
Chapter Three
Don’t do it, man.
Oh, but I really fucking want to.
Deciding to listen to the second voice, just for the moment, Oliver backed Eliza up enough that her sleek backside was wedged against the high stool beside the table. He bit back a groan when his heavy erection encountered her trim belly, her breasts pressing into his chest to swell over the top of her neckline. This shouldn’t be happening. He shouldn’t finally be crazy-as-hell to get inside a girl only to have it be his sister’s best friend. If they were one floor higher, he’d already be slipping her panties down her legs with one hand, unzipping his jeans with the other.
His commitment free lifestyle worked so well because he never got too personal with a woman. Sleeping with Eliza would get personal, whether she believed it would or not. He didn’t get to walk away from her, assuring himself they might never cross paths again. They would. Early and often. Especially if she decided she liked what he taught her and decided to become a regular at Serve.
Oh God, he was actually thinking about this little arrangement as if it might happen.
The very idea of being her instructor, rewarding her and punishing her according to his own rules, made him so hot he wasn’t sure he could turn down the opportunity. Regardless of the consequences. Already his hand flexed where it gripped her hip. He battled the urge not to drag her upstairs and start teaching her now, until Serve closed at four am. He’d have the pleasure of watching her discover what she liked. Then he’d make her fucking love it. He knew instinctively she’d be perfect. Eager. Exquisite.
If he turned her down, an idea his body was vehemently rejecting, he also knew she’d find another way to learn. With Porter or another faceless man he suddenly wanted to roundhouse in the nuts. Yeah, he definitely disliked that idea. It surprised just how much.
Oliver watched as her attention became fixated on his mouth, her tongue moistening those tempting lips, an action so unintentionally seductive it made him want to curse and shout a prayer to the big guy upstairs at the same time. She wanted to be kissed and damn, did he want to oblige her. Brown eyes met his, questioning, a little confused. Perhaps because he’d said no to her proposition, in so many words, and seconds later he was pinning her against a chair with his rock hard cock.
Try not contradicting yourself, asshole.
Instead, he found his lips tracing the side of her neck. “Eliza, believe me, I would love to take you home and tear you out of that dress. We both know it’s a bad idea.”
She tilted her head, inviting him without words to lick, which he did. Tastes delicious. “Why do you make it sound so good, then?”
The husky tone of her voice made Oliver groan, his arousal surging higher in his pants. He pushed her backward a little more, forcing her up onto the seat, knowing the position would open her thighs enough to get his hips between them. Sweet-fucking-Hallelujah, it did. Nothing could stop him from rocking into the notch between her legs. Her gasp sounded like the sweetest kind of music next to his ear, so he did it again, his teeth clenching at the soft heat he encountered.
“What were you saying about a bad idea?”
“I don’t remember.” He nipped at her shoulder. “Refresh my memory.”
“I’d rather keep kissing.”
He growled. “Works for me, babe.”
This time, though, he wanted her mouth. He smoothed a thumb over her bottom lip, betraying his intention with his eyes. She whispered yes as he leaned in—
“Oliver! Oliver?”
Fuck. No. The Wedgie Queen had returned from the throne.
The singsong voice she used to call his name told him she hadn’t found him yet, but was searching for him in the crowd. He grabbed hold of a dazed-looking Eliza’s hand and dragged her off the chair, pulling her through the crowd toward the back exit.
“What are you doing?”
“I don’t want to know anything else about Gwyneth Paltrow’s blog.”
“God, me either. Walk faster.”
Oliver’s laugh sounded a little sad to his own ears. “Shit. I really like you, bunny.”
They passed the crowded bathrooms and pushed through the emergency exit, letting them out onto Jane Street, which was relatively quiet on a Sunday night. “Why did that sound like a bad thing?” she asked, only slightly out of breath.
“Because I want to do this.” Oliver pushed her up against the side of the brick building and brought his mouth down on top of hers. She didn’t hesitate or show an ounce of surprise, but curled her fingers around his collar and let him ravish her mouth, moaning in a way that made him wild. “And this.” He slipped a hand up the back of her dress and kneaded her bottom, giving it a firm slap when she bit and tugged his bottom lip. “And this.” He levered her off the ground with his hips, thrusting once, just so she could feel him. What she did to him.
Her breath escaped on a sob. “You can like me and still do those things, can’t you?”
“Fuck yes.” He licked into her mouth for a hot kiss. “It’s what comes after that worries me.”
“We know we won’t get attached,” she murmured. “It’ll stay between us.”
Oliver tried to reel himself back before he shoved her panties aside and nailed her against the side of the building. He commanded himself to think. Reason. Not an easy feat when most of his blood had rushed south and taken half his brain cells with it. She was his sister’s friend. A good girl. The kind of girl you brought home for Thanksgiving and who kept a toothbrush at your place. Usually those thoughts alone would be enough to send him diving into the nearest cab, holding up a cross and garlic cloves. Usually. But he couldn’t find the willpower to detach himself from her.
His partially opened mouth traced down over her neck and cleavage, turned on even more by the way her breasts rose and fell in shudders. For him. He brought his mouth to her right breast that, thanks to her arched position, threatened to spill from her dress. Her nipple pressed against the material, a hard little point he wanted in his mouth so bad, he groaned in frustration.
Might as well show her what she’s in for if I agree. If. Oliver bared his teeth and bit her nipple through the material, watching her reaction. If he lived to be two hundred, he hoped he never forgot it, how she sounded, how she felt. Her legs tightened around his waist like a vise, and she yanked his head closer, gasping his name like a prayer. All in the space of three seconds. Oliver very nearly came in his jeans, which would have been a highly embarrassing first.
With unrivaled reluctance, he kissed back up her chest and neck to speak near her ear. “Let’s discuss terms.”
“Okay.”
She answered so quickly, he had to chuckle. “Eager girl.”
For some reason, those words seemed to draw her out of the moment, just a little. He started to tell her there was nothing wrong with eager. He loved her eager. But she beat him to the punch. “Three lessons, Oliver. Three. Any more than that and things will get—”
“Messy,” he finished for her, as if it were his idea.
She grinned. “I
’m a very tidy person. You won’t even know I was there.”
“Are we still talking about the same thing?”
She blinked at him. “I’m going to house sit for you. Right?”
He tickled her ribs, making her squeal. “No jokes when we’re discussing terms.”
“Aw, you used to be fun.”
“I’m the most fun you’ve ever had.”
She wiggled her hips. “Tell me about it. Your fun is holding me two feet off the ground.”
Oliver swallowed a curse. One more tweak of her hips and he’d do it. He’d fuck her right here in public, in plain view of anyone who happened to walk past. “Eliza…” he warned her.
Her smile slipped a little. “You heard me, playboy. Three lessons. No mess.” She shook her head. “I won’t let it mean anything. You’re going to teach me how to rock Porter’s world. That’s where it ends.”
“Right.” Why the hell did that finally clear the fog of lust? With a stiff nod, he stepped back and let her slip to the ground. For the first time in his life, he straightened a woman’s clothing, not liking the amount of thigh she had exposed. How much sense did that make when a moment ago, he was getting ready to ring her bell on a public street? “Come over tomorrow after work. I’ll cook.”
Eliza did a double-take. “You’ll huh?”
“I’m useful for more than one thing, smart ass.” He whirled her toward the street. “Let’s get you a cab.”
“Wait. I have to go make an excuse to Porter.”
“I’ll take care of Porter.”
She glanced at him over her shoulder. “That sounds ominous.”
Oliver didn’t answer. He had to get her out of his sight soon, or he’d do something he regretted, like follow her into the cab and rattle off his own address. No, whatever shred of honor he had left needed to give her one full day to back out of the deal. She’d had a few drinks and the very least he could do is not take advantage. That would apparently start tomorrow.