by Crowe, Liz
“We shall,” he’d said, holding out his elbow so she could tuck her hand into it. They had. Running fast and hard on the treadmills, and doing their usual competitive lifting, ending with a flurry of ab work that left them both gasping and dripping sweat.
“Time to get upstairs,” he’d practically growled at her.
It was too much.
She shouldn’t be here.
Despite the fact that she’d initiated this whole sex-only thing, she knew damn well if she let it go on much longer she’d be a goner, set up for the ultimate heartbreak. She was terrified that she’d let the fantasy of the fake engagement seep over into this, their added, sex-only arrangement in a way that was only going to wound her worse.
But damn if it didn’t feel good.
“Holy shit,” she squeaked when he pressed his fingers inside her after teasing her neck, shoulders, and nipples until she had, indeed been begging for him to do that very thing. “Oh … my God…” She closed her eyes and let the orgasm take her, right there, up against the wall of the elevator.
Yeah. Too much all right.
He released the hold he’d kept on her wrists, pinning them over her head while he worked his wicked magic with his lips and tongue and fingers. She collapsed into his arms, willing herself out of this bizarre dream whereby she, Makayla Franklin was pretending to be Jon David’s Baxter fiancée, and putting on a damn good act, if she did say so herself.
He tucked her under his arm, and sucked on the fingers he’d had inside her with a sigh of pleasure. She kept shivering, sated for the moment, and clinging to his broad, muscular torso as if it were the last lifeboat on the Titanic. “You gonna let us out of here or what?” Her voice sounded odd to her ears, like someone else was talking while she listened.
“Oh, right. Sorry.” He pressed the button for the top floor and held her even closer while Kayla squeezed her eyes shut. His voice, already embedded in the deepest part of her brain, did an odd dance on her nerve endings, leaving her feeling raw and exposed.
She hesitated, part of her unwilling to see how perfect his life was, spread out in front of her in the form of a multi-million-dollar, luxuriously furnished home.
When J.D.’s lips touched her neck, she forced herself to open her eyes.
He grinned and scooped her up, all the way up into his arms and headed for his bedroom.
She held herself stiff a few seconds, unsure how to react to this even while part of her was already swooning dead away.
This is bad.
No, this is good.
This is awful.
Oh hell, this is about to be amazing.
Go with it. It’s only sex after all.
His kiss was soft, gentle, not the urgent demand that it had been, that she’d responded to in kind in the elevator a few minutes before. Giving in to it despite the millions of misgivings rolling through her like ocean waves, she wrapped her arms around his neck and opened herself to him and to this whole crazy moment.
“Ow. Dude. Watch it,” she yelped when he threw her onto the bed so hard she bounced and bit her tongue.
“Oh, I plan to watch it. I’m gonna watch all of it.” He slid her workout shorts off and to the floor, never taking his lips off her skin. “You ready for me to watch, Makayla, hmmm?”
“Yes.” She sighed as he lifted her sports bra up and off with the sort of practiced expertise that ought to piss her off, if she weren’t so damn turned on by it. She reached for his shorts, wanting him as naked as she was, but he stopped her.
“No. I’m watching, remember?”
Speechless, she nodded as he traversed every square inch of her skin down her front, nibbling, kissing, sucking, building her desire to a fever pitch. “Oh, shit, man. I need you to, please…”
“Shh, not yet.” He flipped her over, making her yelp with surprise. He spent the next few minutes massaging the kinks out of her shoulders, back, and hips.
“Dear Jesus,” she sighed into the pillow she’d yanked down from the stack near the headboard. “Oh … oh … yes…” She relaxed into it, recalling the many PT and massage session during her life as an athlete, and was alarmed to feel tears welling behind her eyes. She was going too far with this. She was letting herself feel too much. She should stop. “J.D., baby,” she whispered as he moved his attention to her ass, then down one leg, and back up the other.
“You … are exquisite,” he said, his breathing ragged near her ear. “Your skin is like silk. And it tastes like…”
“If you say chocolate, I’m gonna throw you out the damn window, “she said with a giggle, her face still mashed into a pillow.
“Way better than that, baby. So much better than that. There really isn’t a word for it, if you must know.”
“Mmm. I think you need to be naked with me, Mister.”
“Maybe,” he said, still working his knuckles into her lower back.
“No. I’m right about this. Drop trou, dude. Kayla needs you go a bit deeper with this massage.”
“Oh, that’s what Kayla needs, huh?” He rolled her onto her back and pressed his face into her neck until she pushed him off and sat, every molecule and sinew of her zinging with happiness.
“Yep. It is. C’mere, I’ll help you out.”
He stood with his hands on his hips as she relieved him of his trousers and underwear, pausing to give his cock a stroke before she lifted his shirt up and off, revealing the utter perfection of his torso and abs. “Jesus, man you are almost too perfect.” She licked her way from one of his dark, erect nipples to the other.
She shook with need to have him, buried so deep inside her she wouldn’t be able to tell them apart. She eased her way back to the pile of pillows, keeping her gaze on his as he crawled forward, covered her lips with his and eased into her with a slow thrust of his hips.
They moved together slow and easy, finding and capturing their rhythm like a couple that had been sorting each other’s bodies out for years. “Look at me,” he demanded, his voice hoarse, as he moved faster.
Kayla lifted her hips, making him groan at the new angle and her sigh with satisfaction at the friction he provided her, her gaze locked onto his.
“You … are … I’m…”
“Come, baby,” she whispered, her chest and throat tight with the sort of emotion she knew was dangerous at a moment like this. “Give it to me, J.D.”
His eyes darkened to a deep sapphire as he moved faster, harder. “I need to…”
She unlatched her ankles from around his hips and bent one leg up, wanting—needing—to feel every inch of him. “Harder, baby. I need it harder.”
A drop of his sweat landed on her lips. She touched her tongue to it, never breaking their eye-lock. “I’m gonna come, J.D. Can you feel me? Oh … Jesus,” she cried out, arching her back and giving into the glorious release.
He groaned, shuddered, and buried his face in the wild tangle of her hair. Their hip movements slowed, then stopped, leaving them gasping and clutching each other. She ran her fingertips down his back, marveling yet again at its muscular perfection.
“That was…” She wasn’t quite sure how to frame her current swirl of thoughts into words.
He rose, propping his hands on either side of her head, his grin wide. “If you’re about to say, transformational, or maybe the best ever, I’d agree with you.”
She gave his sweaty chest a slap, but when he made as if to pull out of her, she wrapped her legs around his hips again. “No. Not yet.” She had no frame of reference for it, but the thought of him moving away from her made her feel abandoned.
His arms holding him up, he leaned down to kiss her forehead, cheeks, nose, and finally her lips.
She held him close, relishing all the sensations of his skin against hers, the ripe smell of their mutual lust swirling around in her head, making her feel drunk or high. “Okay, I’ll go with transformational.”
He raised one eyebrow at her. “Not the best ever? Really? Well, I’ve got some work to do still, I
guess. But not right now. I need to regroup.”
She nodded, wincing when he withdrew from her. Dude was hung all right, which was great, but she’d have to get used to it.
He got up and made his way to the bathroom, leaving her to writhe around and stretch on the silky duvet cover like a spoiled housecat. Before she could get up and locate a t-shirt or a robe, he was curling against her back and tugging the duvet over their naked bodies. “Don’t move,” he said, into her hair. “Just let me hold you.”
She sighed, reprimanding herself all over again for letting this extreme romantic fantasy continue to play itself out. She should get up, go to her own side of the wall separating them. But she drifted, loving the warmth of his body behind her, of his arm draped over her hip. When his phone buzzed on the bedside table, she barely registered it.
He reached across her to answer it and was silent a few seconds before putting it back.
“Who could possibly be calling you right now?” she mumbled.
“I am a very busy and important person,” he said as he settled back behind her, holding her close, his lips pressed to her shoulder.
“Mmmm,” she said as she drifted. “A robo-call, eh?”
“No. But don’t worry about it right now. Sleep. Here, with me.”
Enjoy it now, Kayla girl. This is only temporary. You made that clear and he agreed, pretty quickly, if we recall the conversation right.
She dropped to sleep, cradled in his arms, despite her resolve to get up and head to her.
Chapter Twenty
The dream was so real—so full of smells and touch and taste that when he woke, J.D. wasn’t a bit surprised to find himself on his back with Makayla straddling his hips. He gripped her thighs and thrust up, needing that connection more than he needed to breathe.
She gasped and rolled her hips, gripping him with her body so tight it hurt—and in the best way possible.
He reached up and yanked her down over him so he could suck her nipple hard, the way he’d discovered she preferred. She groaned and moved faster, taking her pleasure at her own pace while he counted backward from a thousand in a valiant, and ultimately failed attempt not to blow inside her.
She lay draped over him, her breathing ragged.
He blinked up at the dark ceiling, his sleepy mind still not accepting this was not a dream but a glorious, sexy reality. He pressed his nose into her hair, sucking in breaths of all he now associated with her—this snarky, smart-assed, hot as all get out woman.
He sighed when she rose and grinned down at him. “Sorry. Did I wake you?”
“Not sure. Isn’t this a dream?” He stroked the smooth skin of her belly, making her shiver.
“Might be, Mr. Man. Might damn well be.” She rolled off him and headed for the bathroom.
He stretched and checked the time on his watch. Figuring he might as well get up since the alarm was within a few minutes of chiming, he sat, staring down at his half-erect cock, slick from her body. He decided to slide back into their fiancée/roommate of convenience banter.
“Hungry?”
“Always,” she said. “I’m gonna shower first.”
He pulled on his jeans, his mind still reeling from the dream that had morphed in reality, and how badly he wanted to tell her that he wasn’t faking it, and it wasn’t just sex for him, not anymore. “Stop it, Baxter,” he muttered under his breath.
“What’s that?” Makayla called from the bathroom.
“Nothing. Just talking to myself.”
“No doubt telling yourself how god damned amazing I am in the sack, right?”
J.D. ran a shaking hand down his face. “That’s right, hot stuff. I’ll be out here, peeling you some grapes.”
She emerged a solid half hour later, her skin glowing, and slid into the tall chair at his kitchen table.
He handed her a cup of coffee, then dished pancakes and bacon out onto two plates and plunked them down. His mind was awash with alarming images and thoughts, none of them viable, all of them involving him, and her, and maybe a them.
“There you go with the syrup again,” she said, as he drowned his plate in a warmed pitcher of the stuff.
“Yeah,” he grunted, afraid to say much more, lest some of the scary words in his mind manifest themselves into actual conversation. They ate in silence. He cleared the table and refreshed their coffee cups. “So, I need to ask you something.”
“If it’s whether or not I’m a virgin, it’s a little late for that, don’tcha think?”
He smiled, took a breath, and jumped in with both feet.
“I think we should consider … making this more formal.”
She frowned when he took her hand and ran his thumb over the obnoxious diamond ring he’d bought as part of the whole fake engagement thing. It had cost him three arms and a leg, all of which he could afford to replace. He’d chosen it for its effect. So people could see it and take note. But he’d also chosen it to make an impression on her.
“I thought you were going to ask me something, not tell me.”
“Don’t be obtuse,” he said, pulling her up and onto his lap. “God, you smell great.” He licked his way up her bare shoulder to her neck, feeling her shiver and his own body respond in kind.
“This is not … what … oh … shit, J.D., stop it.” She jumped up and wrapped the gaping robe around her. “You don’t want me as a real fiancée. You’ve made that clear.”
“How … uh, what?” He ran a hand down his face, confused and wondering why in the hell he was bringing this up now. He knew better. This wasn’t the time. And yet, he wanted it to be.
“You made me work at DSN so you couldn’t do this. And frankly, if we weren’t pretend engaged, you know I’d be off limits.”
“Yes, that’s true.” He leaned back, admiring the way the morning sunlight hit the side of her face, bathing her in a golden glow.
“Oh my God, that’s why you did this? Why you … you made up some shit about your ex so I’d pretend to… You…”
“No, no, no.” He rose and pulled her into his arms. “That’s all true. Lisa was being too clingy after the attack. I spoke fast, without thinking. I swear that’s what happened.” She was shaking so hard he felt it in his spine. “I never loved her. Not the way you’re supposed to. I was only doing the right thing.” He sighed. “I love Gwen more than life itself so I guess I did—do the right thing, you know?”
“Why the hell are you telling me this now? What does it have to do with anything?” She jerked out of his arms and stood, chest heaving, eyes wild, crouched like some kind of prey, ready to bolt.
“Calm down, Makayla.” He pulled her close, tilted her chin up so he could kiss her. She let him, then broke away, leaning back and glaring at him. “Forget it. Let’s just keep things status quo. Having fun.”
“Like college?” She disentangled from him.
“Yeah, like that.” Defeated, pissed off at himself for revealing what he wanted this early in the game, he watched her make her way to her room. “Time for a run?”
She turned around to look at him, her expression inscrutable, her eyes bright as if she wanted to cry. “Sure. But you don’t have to come with me. And for the record, if you try to change the terms of this little arrangement again on me like that I’m leaving.”
“Fine. I’m sorry. I won’t, I promise.”
They emerged at the same time from their respective rooms. J.D. had to concentrate on not staring at her washboard abs, exposed from the top of her spandex shorts to the edge of her sports bra.
He was, without a doubt, fucked six ways to Sunday by this woman. He needed to be more careful. At that moment, his damn phone rang again. He grabbed it off the coffee table where he’d dropped it earlier and stared at the number. It was the same one from the night before, which gave him pause. He answered it with a brusque, “What do you want?”
Kayla shot him an odd look.
He turned away from her and walked to the bank of windows. “Who the hell is this
?”
But it was the same as last night. It wasn’t a robo call. He got enough of those to know what they sounded like. Someone was on the line. Someone breathing. He ended it and sent the number to his security team, demanding that they come up with a source.
“Let’s go, doll.” He gave the perfect round bubble of her butt a smack. “Time for me to show you how a real athlete takes a run on a Sunday morning.”
“Oh no you don’t. What was that about?” She pointed to the phone.
“I get stalkers and bullshit every now and then. Probably one of those. I handed it over to security.” He put the phone back down as something occurred to him then, something that made him have to close his eyes and count backward from ten before he spoke again. “Listen, um, I heard that Don Harris is out on bail. He got some lawyer to convince the judge he wasn’t a flight risk and put up a couple mil.”
Kayla’s mouth dropped open. “A couple million … dollars?”
“Yeah, his family has money and from what I hear they’re standing by him. So, here’s the deal…” He took a breath. “If you get any odd phone calls or messages or smoke signals or anything even close to something that makes you worry it might be him, I want you to call Mike first.” He picked up her phone and punched in the number for the head of his security detail. “Then me.” He handed the device to her. “Promise me, Makayla. This is serious.”
“Okay, I promise.” She took it from him, nervous, but at the same time knowing Don Harris would know better than to do or say anything to her. That would just be … dumb, on so many levels. “Ready to eat my dust, lover boy?” She smacked his ass and headed for the elevator.
Once there, they ran, and ran, and ran until they were both gasping and spent. He handed her a water bottle, loving the way the liquid ran down her chin and neck as she gulped it while they recovered in front of his building. She never stopped, he’d give her that. Even after the heavy breakfast he’d made. His admiration for her ramped up, along with something else.