The Do It List (The Do It List #1)

by Jillian Stone

  My gaze narrowed to slits. “And how is it you know so much?”

  He pretty much had to explain. “After I signed the papers at Audrey’s, I paid a visit to a special investigative police unit. Troy Lambert isn’t the only one with connections. Mother is a huge contributor to the 911 First Responders Fund. She knows the chief district attorney personally. I got a look at the electronic files, what was available over the Internet.”

  I sucked in a couple of deep breaths. Bradley’s invasion of my privacy startled me. I felt naked and defensive, but to be perfectly honest I also felt liberated. Finally, I had someone to talk to about a horrific event in my life.

  I swallowed. “Then you know that I was given a large dose of Rohypnol and had a bad reaction. The hospital recovered the DNA samples. It was almost like they couldn’t not prosecute.” I dared to make eye contact. “Why are you doing all of this?”

  His incredulous gaze met mine. “So I can formulate a plan to protect you.”

  I didn’t cry, exactly, but I wanted to. Instead, I fell into his arms and he rubbed my back in that comforting way of his.

  “From the accounts I read, one of your rapists made some serious threats. If Lambert or anyone connected to the sexual assault calls or attempts to see you again, you need to tell me. Promise me, Gracie.”

  The words rushed out in a whisper. “I promise.”

  Bradley swept back a few curls. “Do you still want to drive? I can take over.”

  I felt surprisingly strong. “No, I’m okay. I’ll drive.”

  The rest of the way home I peppered him with questions and even offered up details of the rape story I hadn’t thought about in years.

  “Most of what I remember comes from other witnesses. According to Dad, Rohypnol has such a powerful effect you can’t recover much because the drug actually interferes with the brain’s ability to store the memory, so there is little or nothing in the file to retrieve.”

  He scowled. “The perfect date rape drug.”

  I nodded, floating momentarily on the wings of a mild euphoria. No one outside of my family and therapist had ever been so supportive. But I had never trusted enough to let anyone be supportive. Like so many rape victims, I had allowed the event to humiliate, even shame me. A blow to my self-esteem that required constant affirmation to overcome.

  I glanced at Bradley just to check his expression. He appeared contemplative and compassionate, with an underlying anger visible in the lines that creased his eyes and mouth.

  “If it’s any consolation,” he added quietly, “I think Troy Lambert is haunted by what happened to you.”

  We traveled under the East River and made a quick stop for flowers on our way to midtown and Mount Sinai. The lumbering whale of a hospital occupied a prime location in the center of Manhattan with a spectacular view of Central Park.

  Audrey had been moved out of intensive care and we got lost twice trying to find the right nurses’ station. Once we arrived at her room I thought it might be best if Bradley went in first. For starters, Audrey liked him so much more than she liked me.

  “No, Gracie, you need to talk to her. Bring me in when you’ve both had a chance to say whatever it is you need to say to each other.”

  I gripped the vase of flowers and tapped lightly at the open door.

  “Come in.” Audrey didn’t sound like she had almost died last night, she actually sounded pretty normal. “Gracie?”

  I entered the room tentatively, not knowing exactly where to begin. She looked pale and maybe a bit distressed or humiliated, pretty normal under the circumstances.

  “How are you?” I asked, softly.

  “Better. My throat is sore from the tube they stick down you. Weak, slightly nauseous, but otherwise…” She managed a feeble grin. “Alive.”

  I narrowed my gaze. “You scared the living shit out of us. Don’t do that again.” I cringed at my remark, creating an awkward silence.

  “Do you hate me, Gracie?”

  “Of course not.” I inhaled chilly hospital air and cut right to the chase. “Audrey, I get that you’ve been in pain so long that it probably feels normal to you. And you did a great job of pushing all of us away, but we both need to turn the page and move on. We need to be friends, which means we have to learn to trust each other. Could we maybe try talking it out?”

  Yet another pregnant pause. I sucked in a deep breath. “Okay, why don’t I share first? Something personal and painful.”

  I considered several conversation starters including ‘my sister died in this hospital.’ No, maybe not. Audrey had just survived a close brush with death. I cleared my throat and charged ahead.

  “Ten years ago I was betrayed by a guy who I thought was a friend. Four of his frat brothers sexually assaulted me. Besides my family and my therapist, Bradley is the first person I’ve talked to about the rapes, you’re the second. Sarah doesn’t even know.”

  Audrey stared at me. “My husband left me.” She exhaled a very loud sigh. “He had cancer, but he didn’t die, they caught it early. A little surgery, a little chemo—ninety-five percent cure rate.”

  “That’s good, right? Whether or not you’re together.”

  She nodded a little numbly. “I convinced myself I was going to lose him, so I made sure of it by cheating on him.”

  I thought about how crazy fearful she must have been. “Bradley says people do irrational things when they’re scared they might lose someone they care about.”

  She tilted her head. “He’s a great guy, and he loves you very much.” She laughed a little, maybe due to the gobsmacked look on my face.

  “Are you two talking about me?” Bradley leaned inside the door. “Could anyone use a coffee? There’s a Peet’s downstairs.”

  Audrey nodded. “I’d kill for a skinny vanilla latte, with almond milk.”

  He looked so adorable standing there with his hands in his pockets, grinning, obviously happy to see Audrey and I working things out.

  “Can you handle a salted caramel latte, with two percent?” I asked.

  “I have mad espresso ordering skills.” He pivoted. “Now that I’ve said that, just watch me fuck it up.” He disappeared down the hallway.

  I turned back to Audrey. “About those text messages.”

  She grimaced. “That was some pretty crazy stuff.”

  I sighed. “Oddly enough, it was those messages that got us over to your place last night. Something wasn’t right. At the very least, I was determined to have a showdown.”

  She peered up at me, shyly. “I think you’re so beautiful and perfect. I was jealous. Not just because of the men you attract—the whole package.”

  I blinked at her. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

  She shook her head. “I can’t imagine anything horrible ever happening to you, but it did, didn’t it?”

  “Audrey?”

  We both turned toward the corridor. An attractive man stood in the doorway.

  “I just wanted to see how you’re doing. I can come back later.”

  I caught Audrey’s expression and immediately knew this must be her husband.

  “No, please come in.” I moved to shake his hand. “Grace Taylor-Scott.”

  “Nate Lacoste.” His smile made him truly handsome. “Gracie, right? Audrey has mentioned you often.”

  Bradley showed up and distributed the coffee. Even though we didn’t stay long, we found ourselves enjoying the company of both Audrey and her husband, and we left with the distinct impression their estrangement might not be all that estranged for long.

  I stood in the doorway to the bedroom wearing the violet bustier, matching panties, garter belt and opaque stockings by Agent Provocateur. A sleek modern ensemble featuring plenty of sheer see-through.

  Bradley lay sprawled out over the bed immersed the Sunday Times.

  “I’m feeling a little under-dressed.” I announced. “You might want to get rid of some of those clothes.”

  He looked up from the page and did a cute doub
le take. Easing onto his side, he took his time perusing the goods. “What do you have in mind?”

  I pivoted slowly, so he got the full effect of the purple thong. “Torture.” I widened my stance. “By a very naughty girl.”

  He wore a V-neck tee over threadbare sweatpants, standard Bradley lounging attire. He tossed the sports section aside and pulled his shirt off. Hard abs and a lovely trail of fuzz disappeared below the waistband.

  I dragged a side chair closer. “Let’s leave the sweats on for now…” I untied strings and loosened the waist so the pants hung low on his hips. I reached inside and traced a curve of groin muscle with my fingernail.

  He sucked in air. “What are you up to, Gracie?”

  “A lap dance.” I left the strings untied. “So there needs to be some clothing in the way.”

  “I wouldn’t exactly mind a naked lap dance.” He reached for me and I stepped back.

  “Uh-uh. No touching. Sit in the chair, please.”

  He stared at me for a moment and then obediently slouched onto the armless chair, stretching out long muscular legs.

  I opened the bedside drawer and pulled out a set of handcuffs. “Will I need to restrain you?” I slanted a look at him. “Or would you prefer to hang onto the edge of your seat?”

  The ends of his mouth curled. “Where’d you get those?”

  “I’ve been saving them for a special occasion.”

  “Such as?”

  I selected a song from my TLC playlist. “A Red Light Special occasion.” A sexy rhythm filled the bedroom. Sultry, female voices crooned indecent instructions to Bradley, not that he needed a tutorial.

  Rolling my hips to the seductive throb of bass notes, I opened the violet bustier. Hook…by…hook.

  “Gimme more, Gracie.”

  I unhooked the last fastener.

  His gaze didn’t bother to follow the bustier to the floor. My fingertips massaged imaginary body lotion over both breasts, teasing tawny-colored nipples into hard points.

  His pupils darkened beneath heavy eyelids. “Come here.”

  I planted my hands on his shoulders and hung my tits in his face. He laid his head back and nuzzled the warm space between my breasts, inhaling my scent, caressing each curve as I angled a tip close to his lips and he nipped the hard nub.

  A deep sense of pleasure rippled through my body. A low, throaty moan escaped my lips as he licked then suckled. I fought back the urge to abandon the lap dance and impale myself on the impressive erection tenting his pants.

  His white-knuckled grip broke away and he reached for me. I caught his hands and returned them to the sides of the chair. “Hands to yourself, baby.” I backed away with a warning look.

  Gyrating slowly, I hooked my thumbs into the sides of the thong and double-timed a hip roll.

  “Fuck,” he rasped, “grind that gorgeous ass into me.”

  I took it low, over his lap and gave him a brush with bootie. His low guttural moan revealed a man in the throes of exquisite pleasure.

  I reached back and pulled him close. “You want me to ride that handsome cock, baby?”

  He brushed his scruff against my cheek. “Oh, yeah.” I rubbed side to side, keeping it slow and sensual. He rocked forward and all of that velvet hardness slipped along the crack of my ass.

  I climbed off and pushed his pants down. His cock sprang free, slapping hard groin muscle. I placed my hands on his thighs and licked the tip of his penis. “Ah, Gracie.”

  I clawed my way up his torso and pulled his face close. “Taste me.”

  The ends of his mouth formed a deadly sexy grin. “Permission to touch?”

  Rarely, had I seen him this tortured—this turned on. Tense from arousal, his thigh muscles trembled beneath me, and those gorgeous blue eyes were half-crazed with lust.

  “Permission granted.”

  Strong hands cupped my ass while biceps and deltoid muscles lifted me higher. His tongue played briefly with my piercing.

  I tugged the G-string to one side and his tongue slipped between soaking wet labia.

  “Oh, baby, baby, baby.” I moaned.

  “Say my name, Gracie.” He held me against his mouth, swirling his tongue over the hood of my clit, teasing me mercilessly until my entire body ignited with desire.

  “God yes, Bradley,” I cried, as arousal skyrocketed. I had allowed him to break the rules and now all I could think about was the orgasm building inside me.

  He tongued until my body convulsed with pleasure. And it took several post-orgasmic shudders before he lowered me down and positioned his cock at my entrance.

  A rippling tremor moved through his body, as he pushed in deep. ”Easy,” I whispered, rocking my hips back.

  His lips nuzzled my shoulder and throat. “Fuck, Gracie, you feel amazing.”

  “And I love how you fill me up.” I urged him on again, riding him harder, faster.

  He gripped my buttocks and yanked me into each thrust. “I’m coming fast, baby.” He flooded me with semen, and I tightened around his thick cock, draining him of every drop.

  His head rolled back on his shoulders. “Don’t get up,” he gasped, sucking in air. “Give me a little longer.”

  I gyrated slowly, drawing out his pleasure.

  “You cheated,” I whispered, brushing my lips over his.

  “I didn’t hear any complaints.” He returned soft kisses. “Just God and my name in the same sentence.”

  I bit his shoulder and his chest heaved from laughter.

  TWENTY-NINE

  MONDAY MORNING I awoke to Bradley staring at me.

  A slow self-conscious smile broke over my face as the smell of freshly brewed coffee revived me.

  “You can’t imagine how beautiful you look right now.”

  I stretched languidly. “That is because I have a talented lover who keeps me well-pleasured.”

  “Does he now?” He stroked the insides of my thighs. “Tell me about him.”

  “He knows when to be rough and when to be gentle.”

  He leaned over and kissed the inside of my knee. “Sounds perceptive. Anything else?”

  “He’s a talker in bed.”

  He searched my face. “Is that a bad or good thing?”

  “Oh, that’s very, very good.”

  He played with my belly button piercing. “And how do you feel about him? Is he someone you could see yourself getting serious about?”

  “Possibly.” I threw a pillow at him. “And what about your lover?”

  “Oh man,” he groaned. “She fucked me raw last night.”

  “She sounds hot, is she?”

  He crawled over me. “Hot doesn’t begin to describe her. She’s become my obsession. I love the little gasp she makes just before she has an orgasm. Her scent. Her taste. Her smile.” He spoke the words between kisses. “The way she looks when she’s coming.”

  “Any plans for future pleasuring?”

  “There’s a black lace blindfold and a leather whip that need breaking in. But I’m looking forward to a little nine-to-five sex very soon.”

  I quirked an eyebrow. “Please share.”

  “A simple text.” His gorgeous blue gaze held me in suspense. “My office. Ten minutes. No panties.”

  “Wow. Put that one on the list.”

  The alarm went off and he swung his legs over the side of the bed. “Shower with me.” He pulled me upright.

  I trailed after him down the hallway. “You mean shower fuck me, don’t you?”

  He pulled me into the bathroom and I stroked him while he adjusted hot and cold.

  “Jeezus, you’re insatiable. My dick’s going to fall off.”

  “This big thick poker? I don’t think so, baby.”

  Amazing shower sex beats that first cup of java any day. And words cannot describe the after-come glow of Bradley Craig wearing nothing but a towel.

  He slurped his French roast, while I changed into a cute pair of skimpy shorts. “Unusual office attire, even for you.”

&n
bsp; I pulled a heathered tee over my head and joined him in the kitchen. “Sarah and I are working here. Interruption-free morning. She’s going to shoot some video for the creative presentation.”

  “Of you?” His gaze moved up my legs. “In that outfit…for Héros?” He grinned.

  “Something sexy and secret.” I poured a cup of coffee. “You’ll see the footage soon enough.”

  My phone rang, but I didn’t recognize the number. “Hello?”

  A woman answered. “Hello, I need to speak with Bradley Craig. Would you happen to know where he is?”

  Bradley stood in the foyer, ready to leave. “Someone asking for you.”

  He frowned. “Ask who it is.”

  “May I ask who’s calling?” Numbly, I held the phone out. “She says she’s your wife.”

  Bradley stared, brows furrowed. Finally, he took the phone. “Claire?”

  I stood in the kitchen and eavesdropped. Claire was in town and wanted to see him.

  “I’m in and out of video conferences all day—” Cut off, he wandered close and quietly brushed his lips over my neck. “I understand—” The familiar squawk was pure déjà vu elevator.

  Bradley finally got a word in. “Later this afternoon, possibly. Let me check my schedule and get back to you.”

  He ended the call. “Sorry. I forgot to turn my phone on.”

  “How did she get my number?”

  He appeared equally mystified. “Hannah or Liv, maybe?”

  I folded my arms over my chest and stared. “She still refers to herself as wife?”

  He yanked me close. “Don’t let her get to you, Gracie.” He nuzzled my nose and I sent him off with a long, wet kiss.

  He opened the door and crossed paths with Sarah, who held up a bakery bag. “Apple creme fraiche cronuts, straight from the oven.”

  “Hold on.” I wrapped up one of the doughy delightful pastries for Bradley. He hesitated in the entry. “Why do I get the feeling I’m missing out on something?”

  “Because you are.” I closed the door.

  Sarah grinned. “Yet another fabulous fuck-filled weekend?”

  I reached into the bag. “Including a Vanquish fuck, which I got to drive yesterday.” I bit into a mouthful of heaven. “We stopped by the hospital and looked in on Audrey.”