by Zoe Forward
“I don’t need your pity.”
“I’m not pitying you. It’s the truth. Why are you so upset? You’ll have all this someday. Big wedding, kids, and the whole shebang.” Why did the words feel like acid in his throat?
“Maybe you’re right. I think relatives pointing out I’m old and alone is making me nuts.”
“That’s total bullshit. You’re not even thirty. What’s really going on here? Are you okay?”
Her eyebrows rose into a quizzical frown.
“You have something wrong?” he asked.
“I’m not sick.” She moved to turn away.
He grabbed her arm and rotated her to face him. “What’s really wrong?”
Her eyes flashed fear and sheened with about-to-be-shed tears.
“Don’t cry. Please.” He ushered her out of the banquet room into a dark hallway. He brushed the hair away from her eyes. “Please tell me what’s going on.”
“It’s nothing.”
“It’s something.”
“There’s all this crap back in California. Then you and me. Then the bouquet thing…” She gazed up as if that explained everything. “I’m fine.” She swiped at her eyes to clear residual moisture. “This is wine on an empty stomach talking. I’m sorry.”
Her gaze locked onto his lips. Her eyes rose to his, dilated and full of an emotion that shot his oh-shit meter to critical danger.
“What?” he managed to force out.
Her eyes gazed at his lips. Her tongue darted out, moistening. Preparing. The small move was all the invite he needed. “Kiss me.”
Before he could obey her command, a throat cleared nearby. “Jake, stop monopolizing Becca.”
He jerked away from Becca to find his assistant and the bride’s sister, Emma, giving him a raised eyebrow what the hell.
Emma reached around Jake to grab Becca’s arm. “Tori wants all of us bridesmaids together for a toast.”
Jake asked, “Enjoying your days off, Emma?”
“Apparently, I understand the concept of actually taking a day off, unlike you.” Emma’s gaze narrowed for a fraction of a moment before she smiled. She knew him too well. Any time he cornered a girl like this in the past, the woman was going home with him. But Becca wasn’t a conquest. She was Noah’s sister. He was comforting her, right?
Keep telling yourself that crap.
11
Becca joined the circle of four bridesmaids and Tori, disgruntled she couldn’t slip away to finish what almost happened with Jake.
Emma raised her glass, “To the two hottest nerds. Tori and Noah. May they be able to keep their clothes on in public but not in private, or at least until they say their vows.”
Tori blushed. She batted playfully at Emma. “Seriously?”
Emma shrugged. “Hey, sis, everyone knows the two of you have a bit of a problem staying dressed when you’re together.”
“Noah is just so… Okay, it’s a problem.” Tori flashed a guilty smile.
Becca took a large sip of wine. “This is my brother you’re talking about. No details, please. I think if I hear anything involving him naked, I’ll be scarred for life.”
Everyone laughed, Emma and Tori began discussing honeymoon plans, and the group broke apart. She didn’t know if she should wander over to her parents or talk to her aunt, who was in line at the bar.
Becca’s cousin plumped her cleavage in her low-cut sundress and asked her, “How in the world did you lock down Jake Allen so fast? I’d give my left arm to snag him.”
“What?”
Emma and Tori stopped their discussion and focused on her. Tori’s eyebrows shot upward.
Now she’d have to hash out what was going on with her and Jake publicly. Not ideal. She hadn’t thought through the ramifications of Jake as her date. “He just… We spent the day together. Doing errands.”
Tori glanced Jake’s way. “I hear he’s amazing in bed. I wouldn’t know, obviously. There was this friend of Noah’s who wouldn’t stop ranting though. I think she was pissed he doesn’t do repeats. It might be really fun to test drive him.”
“Is the bride giving me the green light to sleep with the best man this weekend?” Becca swallowed more wine.
Tori shrugged. “You being Noah’s sister is tricky and might make for some future uncomfortable moments.”
The other bridesmaids giggled and headed to the dance floor. Emma got waylaid by Becca’s mother for something about the seating arrangements for tomorrow.
Tori said softly, “You see Jake over there throwing you that look?”
“What look?”
“I’ve never seen him do that kind of look before.”
“What kind of look are you seeing?”
Tori faced her with her back to Jake. The seriousness on Tori’s face caused her gut to clench. The wine soured in her empty stomach. Becca peeked around Tori and caught Jake’s gaze. His brows dropped low, concerned. His look was a big question if she wanted him to save her. He really was a nice guy deep down.
Becca angled to avoid Jake’s gaze and said to Tori, “He’s only concerned or whatever because I’ve known him for a long time.”
“Emma said you seemed to be getting along better than fine minutes ago when she found you two. Did he take you up on your date proposal?”
“Nope.” Becca finished the glass of wine and snagged another. Slow down on the alcohol. Empty stomach equals low tolerance.
“He stopped sleeping around about six or seven months ago. I don’t know why. He’s been different. Not dating or anything, as far any of us have seen. Noah was worried about it at first, but he seems to have put all his focus on work. They’re stressed about the product launch coming up.”
Jake stopped his one-nighters? Six months ago would put it about Christmas. Their argument over his lifestyle happened then. It was egotistical to think he’d stopped hooking up because she’d called him out on it.
Becca’s phone dinged with an incoming text.
She whipped out the phone.
Pascal: ???
Tori touched her arm.
Becca clicked off the phone, jamming it into her purse before Tori could read the message.
Tori asked, “How much do you owe?”
“Four thousand.” Oops. Becca glanced up sharply.
A line etched between Tori’s brows. Tori snagged her elbow and towed her to a dark, quiet side of the banquet room. “How long?”
“I can’t talk about this.” Becca pulled her arm free.
“Of course, you can’t. They’re holding something over you. Something likely so bad you’d keep all this from everyone even though the Stadium killed Kaleb. And they’ve targeted your other brother’s company. How long have you been in?”
“I’m almost out. I swear. Drop it. Forget we even talked about this and let it be.”
Tori’s expression hardened. “You’re never out. Not until the entire organization is stopped. Don’t you get that?”
“You got out.”
“Like I said before, the asshole reminds me from time to time that he can still hurt us. He does little things, psychotic things to fuck with our heads.” She paused. Her face closed up. “They’re texting you while here…what are they up to?”
Poker face. Show nothing. “Reminding me I got these three days off, but I have to be back and play Sunday night. They dock me money for any night I miss in the Stadium. You have to believe me when I say I am almost out.”
“Becca, if you hurt Noah or his company…”
“He’s my brother. I swear on my soul I’ll never hurt him.”
“How’s it going, ladies?” asked a male voice.
They turned to face a handsome thirty-something Asian in a dark denim jacket and gray jeans.
He stuck out his hand to Becca. “It’s Quan. Remember, we met last year? I used to play with Tori on the team.” As one of the three in the internationally ranked Dynasty gaming team back when Tori was playing in legitimate competitions six months ago he knew a
s much about gaming and the Stadium as she and Tori, not that Quan ever set a competitive foot inside. He worked on a task force against illegal gaming for the NSA. Or maybe it was the FBI. She couldn’t remember.
“You helped Tori out of all that mess earlier this year.” She glanced to Tori, who remained pale. Maybe Quan could help her.
“What are you two gossiping about over here?” His easy smile teased an answering grin out of her.
“Surviving life. You been playing recently?” Tori asked.
“Only for fun. We’re in the market for a third on the Dynasty since Tori quit. We haven’t found the right person, so no big competitions for us. We’re doing tryouts in a few weeks and thinking of going to four on the team. You want to try out, Becca? Heard you were pretty good.”
Panic spread through her. “I don’t play. I definitely don’t want to compete.”
“Any new news on the hunt for Symphis?” Tori asked.
Quan glanced around and lowered his voice to a hushed whisper. “This is between us. Newest is we think he might be a she.”
Tori’s eyebrows popped up.
“Really?” Becca asked. Probably should’ve kept her mouth shut.
Quan cocked his head and subjected her to a penetrating stare. “Everything okay on the West Coast?”
She swallowed hard, worried she’d given too much away. “Yep. Everything’s great.”
His dark brown eyes softened. “We should get together sometime. Talk over coffee or something.”
“You asking me out?” His body language didn’t indicate sexual interest.
He reached into his jacket and drew out a card with the NSA logo across the front and pressed it into her hand. “Call me if you want.” He nodded to Tori. “Beautiful event. Thanks for inviting me.”
Becca chewed on her lower lip.
Quan granted her what came off as a reassuring smile before leaving, but she felt chilled to her bones.
“He might be able to help,” Tori whispered.
“If things don’t go well next week…” She squeezed the business card tight in her hand, its edges cutting into her skin. Had she told Quan she could play video games? She didn’t remember. Maybe he presumed everyone in the Harrison family could play, not a wrong assumption. “You’re getting married. Don’t stress about me. I think Noah’s waving for you.”
Jake watched Becca stagger as if she were a few glasses of wine beyond tipsy. He couldn’t keep track if she’d had one or four drinks in the past hour. If she didn’t slow down, she’d crash right into a toilet-hugging morning, which would make the wedding pretty damned miserable. He had to stop her. She laughed a little too effusively at something a woman said.
Jake grabbed the drink out of her hand and set it on a table. He whispered in her ear, “Come with me.” He took her hand, not giving her an option. At the bar, he ordered her a Sprite and slid it her way. “You’ve had enough.”
“I’ll say when I’ve had enough. I’ve only had a few glasses.”
“It’s enough.”
“Who are you? My dad?”
“Your father would tell me to stop you. Want me to go ask him?”
“He left an hour ago.” She sipped at the soda. “It’s a wedding rehearsal party. Drinking is what we do, right?”
“Not me,” he said softly.
“No, you never do.” A few tears leaked from her eyes. “No drinking. One-night stands only. No hooking up with Noah’s sister. Yeah, you have principles.”
He snagged her hand and pulled her out of the room.
“My purse,” she protested.
“It’ll be fine for a few minutes.” He led her to the deserted hallway they’d been in earlier.
“Why don’t you want to go to the wedding with me?” she asked in a small voice. Her luminous hurt-filled gaze met his.
“I never said I didn’t want to. I said I couldn’t.” He lowered his head and dirty kissed her, his lips hard and his tongue diving in. Her fingers curled into his shirt. She fell against him, going soft like she had the last two times they’d kissed. It turned him on. Big time.
He pulled away to make sure she was on board with this. That this wasn’t just him pushing her.
“What?” she asked, her eyes glazed. “Why are we stopping?”
He resumed kissing her while he skimmed his hand up the smooth skin of her thigh, pushing her skirt up until he reached the lacy edge of her panties. He felt her slick wetness on his finger.
He shouldn’t do this. She was tipsy, possibly drunk.
She released a groan as he teased her. He eased a finger inside her, into the tight clutch of her body and watched her body bow with startled pleasure.
“Should I stop, Becca? Or do you want more?” He stopped moving his finger.
She rested her head in the crook of his neck, her rapid breaths ticking his skin. “Don’t stop. Please.”
He added a second finger.
She sucked in a startled moan. “Oh, God…” Her dilated gaze met his. “I’m won’t…not here like this.”
“You’re beautiful.” He leaned in and kissed her, his fingers not giving her a break. Her body clenched around him.
“Jake…?”
“I’ll catch you.”
He swallowed the rest of her moan with a kiss, allowing her to ride out the storm until she exploded.
He shouldn’t have done that. Although, damned if she didn’t go off like a rocket every time he touched her. Such a temptation to see how high the Becca rocket could fly.
There wasn’t one damn thing wrong with her—gorgeous, smart, and responsive. Except, something was going on that she wouldn’t tell him about.
She wobbled. He helped her catch her balance. “Are you okay?”
“I’m not drunk.”
“Maybe not on alcohol…” He grinned.
She giggled and batted at his arm good-humoredly. “You really are bad.”
“I’ve had a lot of practice at being bad.”
“My good luck, then.”
“You want to watch the first Hobbit movie tonight on my widescreen?” Not very smooth, but he didn’t want to leave her alone tonight. That was a lie. He wanted her with him, even if he would attempt to keep his pants on no matter how much he wanted her naked.
A smile transformed her face. No more tears. Genuine happiness. Success.
She said, “That sounds like fun, but is this code for spending the night? Computer code I get, but I’m not good at sex code. So, I need it straight.”
“Sex code? No. This is an offer to watch a movie only.”
She wrapped her arms around his waist, locking them at his back to pull his pelvis into hers. Huskily she asked, “What if I want more?”
“Bad idea, Becca.”
She looked downcast, as if he’d robbed her of something.
“Hell.” He let out some of his frustration with a deep breath. Everything he’d ever dreamed about was in his arms, but the only thing he could do was let her go. “You deserve better than what I can give. You need someone to love you, not screw you and leave the next day.”
She pressed herself against him. “You wouldn’t do that to me.”
“I don’t want to hurt you.” He couldn’t turn away, couldn’t let her go. Sweet Jesus, he wanted her. He leaned forward and pressed his face into her hair. I don’t want to lose you and the only family I’ve ever had.
The truth from him surprised him.
“I know.” She reached up and touched his face, moving her palm over the roughness of his cheek. “I’m not looking for monogamy and long-term. I want the sex god to show me what it’s all about. One night. And based on that taste…”
“This will be about a movie,” he interrupted, although her proposal shot a zing of hell yeah through him. This was alcohol talking, not Becca. He put an inch or so of air between them. “No promise for anything more.”
She bit her lip. “Okay. It’s the best offer I’ve got for the night. I’ll take it, but I think you bett
er drive.”
12
Jake tossed a popcorn bag into the microwave and set the timer. What was he doing? A slightly tipsy, too-sexy Becca sat on his sofa. The unfamiliarity of a non-sexual experience with a woman at his apartment spooked him as if he teetered on the brink of breaking some unwritten law.
Who was he kidding? There wasn’t anything platonic about him wanting her here. One signal from her and he’d take them right into his bedroom and the sunken tub afterward.
Behave. She’s almost drunk. He didn’t take advantage of almost-drunk women. Ever.
Moments before he’d been fiddling with the four remotes to get the sound system, DVD, and TV synced without success. He’d declared them all a piece of shit. She’d grabbed them out of his hands, did some sort of magical button pushing, and everything worked. Ego buster right there.
He rounded back into the living room with a plastic bowl of popcorn and two bottles of water.
No Becca.
Gone?
His heart pounded. Had he said something wrong? Had she freaked out and left?
He hadn’t heard the chime of the front door opening, not that he could hear much over popping popcorn.
The door to his private office sat ajar with the light on. Oh, shit.
He usually locked it whenever he had company, especially women. With a toss, the water bottles landed on the sofa. He dropped the popcorn on the marble coffee table so hard that it spilled everywhere. He didn’t care as he strode to his office.
Shit, shit, shit.
Becca found his shelves. His collection.
She touched one of his models. Her wide gaze met his. “Is this really an original vintage Boba Fett? And, that’s a 1970s original in-the-box Vader?”
“Yes.” His face couldn’t get hotter. To most, collecting toy paraphernalia at his age was juvenile.
She moved to his pride and glory. On bad days, one pretend fly around the room made him smile.
His breath hitched as her hands caressed the Millennium Falcon, both in reaction to fear the model might fall and shock she appreciated it.
“I always wanted one of these when I was little. An original, not one of the newer, cheaply made ones.” She faced him. “This collection is incredible. This ship is amazing. It’s not anything like the plastic models in stores these days. It almost feels metal.”