Once A Bad Girl

by Jane O'Reilly

  This was no play for the crowd. Not when her lips parted so greedily, tempting him in. He touched his tongue to hers, savoured the sweet, warm taste. She clawed at him, nails digging into muscle, and he laughed against her mouth, dragging her hard against him. ‘Still think I’m a coward?’

  ‘Yes.’ She nipped at his bottom lip, and it woke up the devil inside him. ‘You’re a yellow-bellied fraidy cat, Josh Blakemore. I can scare you without even trying.’

  ‘Can you now?’ Cupping the back of her head, he took back control with a deep, punishing kiss that left no room for uncertainty. He could feel her start to tremble, knew the exact moment that she’d realised she was in way over her head. He waited for her to shove him away, to tell him he’d gone too far.

  She pulled back exactly as he’d predicted and it felt like hell. ‘I think we should leave,’ he said, his voice not quite steady.

  Her mouth was swollen, only a smudge of gloss left sparkling in one corner, her neck flushed. He could see the pulse in her throat flickering at a million miles an hour. ‘Yes.’ She looked up at him dizzily. ‘I think you might be right.’

  The sky was a brushstroke of coral overhead, the streets packed with late-evening revellers and the smell of five spice and hot, roasting duck. They dived into the back of the nearest black cab. Josh quickly gave the driver his address as he pulled the door closed and settled himself back into the seat. All his senses seemed to be on high alert, everything more vivid, more real somehow.

  Yet all he could see was Lottie. She crossed her legs at the knee, draped her skirt carefully over them, and slid a slender hand over his thigh. The contact had him sucking in a sharp breath, steeling himself.

  ‘I want you,’ she said softly.

  ‘I know.’

  ‘This is a mistake,’ she continued.

  ‘I know that too.’

  The taxi zipped rapidly down one-way streets, dodging traffic lights and cyclists before slamming to a halt outside his front door. Josh tugged out his wallet, stuffed a couple of notes through the slot for the driver, swung open his door and yanked Lottie out. His mouth was on hers before her feet even met the pavement, wanting more of her, needing it.

  Somehow they made it to the front door, and he pinned her against it with his hips. Neither of them said anything.

  The key thrust home, and he turned it with one shaky hand as he slid the other up between her legs, cupping her through the thin fabric of her voluminous dress. No-one could see. He could make her come right here if he wanted to, and the thought of it sent adrenaline pumping through his veins. She was that hot for him.

  He pressed a little harder, and she whimpered. Then the door shot back, and they tumbled to the floor in an undignified heap. Josh flung out his arms, bracing himself before he could crush her, his heart pounding. She stared up at him with wide, shocked eyes. He set his weight to his knees, started to rub her, checking her arms, her shoulders, the back of her head, panic soaring inside him. Her fingers dug into his hair and forced his eyes to connect with hers. ‘I’m okay,’ she whispered. ‘It’s okay.’

  ‘Is it?’ He was too confused to know. She was tipsy, and he’d promised himself he wouldn’t do this, and they were on the hallway floor for god’s sake.

  She nodded, stroked the back of his neck. It didn’t seem possible for a caress to be tender when there was so much heat between them, but it was. And any hope he’d had of resisting died a rapid, blessed death. He kicked the door closed. The almost darkness surrounded them, the cold hard floor in sharp contrast with her soft, warm body. He lifted one hand to the bodice of her dress and dragged it down to her waist, wanting to satisfy that curiosity. Black satin cupped her breasts, holding them high, but he didn’t uncover them.

  Instead, he trailed a line of hot, open mouthed kisses over her stomach, dipping his tongue into her belly button, teasing, tasting as she arched her back and squirmed. ‘Lie still,’ he ordered her, catching her wrists as she reached for him. ‘Just…just let me do this, Lottie.’

  ‘Do what?’ She gasped out the words as he slowly, carefully dragged the hem of her dress up over her thighs, baring her to his gaze, and just as it had the first time, the sight of her naked skin proved too much of a temptation. She was too much of a temptation. He’d been fighting this too hard for too long, and he was tired of fighting.

  ‘You’ll see,’ he said, pulling in a shuddering breath, the air tinged with her scent, his whole body starving for a taste of her. Her knees were pressed tightly together, her sex covered by a scrap of black satin with a bow on each hip. Josh reached forward and gave one an experimental tug. It came apart with just that gentle pull, and he felt his groin tighten. He shouldered her knees apart, propped himself up on his elbows and gave the other bow the same treatment.

  Her breathing was fast now, shallow. But Josh didn’t go fast, not this time. He wanted to savour this, to taste every inch of her. He knew it was wrong, but he couldn’t bring himself to stop. He’d managed it in the park, but only just, and here? Now? With her half naked and eager? Not a chance. He made a point of avoiding drunk women, but he couldn’t avoid Lottie Spencer. Not when he was so close to her, and she smelled so bloody good.

  The skin on the inside of her thigh was so soft when he set his mouth to it, licked it, tasted it. He moved a little higher, did the same, and higher still, until his jaw rubbed against satin and she moaned. It was torture, pure torture, his erection pushing hard against the tight denim that held it in. He moved his head, covered the satin with his mouth and lapped at the fabric, wetting it with his tongue, tasting her through it, pinning her hands to the floor when she desperately tried to shove her knickers out of the way.

  She wanted it. He just hadn’t realised how much. Letting go of her hands, he ripped that barrier aside, held her hips and feasted on her. She was so soft, so wet, and she muttered gorgeous little words of pleasure as he circled his tongue round, over. ‘Louder,’ he said. ‘Tell me how much you like it.’

  Her heels scrabbled wildly against the floor as her hips started to move and he kept on, relentlessly driving her until she flirted with a scream. ‘Come on,’ he teased her. ‘You can do better than that.’

  Her hands dived into his hair, pushed him firmly back down so she could ride his mouth. She came and came and came. Yes, he thought. Yes.

  And nothing had ever felt more satisfying or more wrong.

  Chapter Eight

  There was something wrong with her head. Squeezing her eyes tightly shut, Lottie groaned, feeling around her for the duvet. Locating a handful of fabric that felt promising, she gave it a sharp tug but the stupid thing refused to budge. She gave it another tug, and her stomach decided to join forces with her head and torture her some more. ‘Ugh.’ What time was it? She couldn’t be late for work. The first of Marlene’s pieces were arriving today, and she had to be there to catalogue everything.

  ‘Morning.’ The familiar gravelly voice made her feel like her brain was about to explode. Lottie rolled onto her stomach and pressed her face tightly into the pillow. ‘Go away and let me die in peace.’

  A warm hand slapped her lightly on the backside. ‘No can do.’

  She heard the sound of a cup being placed somewhere in the vicinity of her head, then a strange rattling sound. ‘Seriously, Josh, I’m dying here.’

  The mattress shifted, and she found herself being rolled onto her back and her hair combed back from her face. ‘No, you just wish you were.’ His tone was dry, and the expression on his face was shuttered, grim.

  Did she really look that bad? Suddenly desperate to get herself near a mirror, Lottie ripped her gaze from his face and spotted the white mug with steam rising from it that he’d set on the table at the side of the bed. Two shiny white pills sat next to it. She levered herself up into a sitting position, picked up the mug and bravely took a sip. It was strong and sweet, and it slid down her throat at speed. She knocked back the painkillers with the next mouthful, watching Josh from under her lashes as he pu
shed up from the bed and stomped over to the window, cradling his own mug. He was wearing striped pyjama pants that clung to his taut backside and flapped around his ankles. The sun caressed his bare shoulders, his beautiful golden skin. Was there anything about him that wasn’t perfect?

  His irritation hit her like a slap to the face. Definitely not perfect. Okay, so it was a morning after, and morning afters were always awkward, but they’d both agreed it was a mistake and they’d done it anyway. Sulking now was like shutting the door after the horse had bolted. ‘Right,’ she said. ‘Spit it out.’

  ‘Spit what out?’

  ‘Whatever it is that’s got your knickers in a bunch.’

  He lifted one hand over his head, rested it on the edge of the window. ‘You got drunk.’

  Lottie banged down her half-finished tea and winced. ‘You’re pissed because I had a couple of glasses of wine? Seriously?’ She swung her legs to the floor. It took her stomach a moment to catch up. ‘Okay, make that a couple of swimming-pool-sized glasses of wine.’

  Gingerly trying her legs, she decided they would hold. She walked carefully over to him. He was being ridiculous, but she’d at least like to be wearing underwear before she pointed it out. ‘Anyway, I’m not drunk now. I’m hungover. I deserve some sympathy.’ She pressed a hand to her forehead, placed the other on his shoulder, feeling the powerful curve of muscle hot under her palm and the corresponding pull low in her belly, between her sex-sore thighs.

  He said nothing, merely took another pull on his tea and continued to stare out of the window. A paperboy was winding his way down the street on an orange BMX, bag slung over his back.

  Lottie got cross. So she’d got a little tipsy. So what? If he had a problem with it, he should have taken her home, not brought her back here and spent most of the night inside her. ‘What the hell is your problem?’ Lifting a finger, she poked him hard in the bicep. ‘Yes, I had a couple of glasses. So did pretty much everyone else there. It’s not a crime.’ And then something else occurred to her. ‘You run nightclubs, for heaven’s sake! You make a living out of the fact that people like to get a little loose on a Friday night! You, Josh Blakemore, are a hypocrite.’

  ‘I operate a stiff no-tolerance policy in my clubs. Anyone who has had enough is asked to leave.’

  ‘I don’t remember you asking me to leave last night!’

  He turned then, his eyes glittering. ‘I should have done.’

  ‘Why?’

  His hands locked onto her upper arms, pulled her up hard against him. Her nipples rubbed against the hard wall of his chest, the dusting of dark hair rough against her tender flesh. ‘Because I do not have sex with drunk women.’ His gaze was fastened angrily, hungrily on her mouth.

  ‘Hate to point this out,’ she said warily, ‘but that’s not exactly true.’

  A muscle twitched in his cheek, as his heat, his scent surrounded her. She could sense the danger. It ran through her like an electric current. ‘I spent my childhood surrounded by drunk people,’ he said. ‘They get on my damn nerves.’

  ‘Too many celebrity parties?’

  ‘If you can call my parents and a crate of vodka a party.’

  Shock took a swipe at her, followed by a cold, sinking feeling in her insides. She set her hands to his hips as his reaction began to make uncomfortable sense. ‘They drank a lot, your parents?’

  He shrugged, but she could feel how tense he was. ‘Got to nurture the muse. Unfortunately, for those two nurturing the muse involved getting blind drunk, having raging arguments then waking up in a pool of vomit the next day with not the faintest clue what had happened. My dad cleaned himself up, eventually. Went to the States and got help. But not my mother.’

  Oh, god. And she’d gone and got herself plastered. Her emotions raged war inside her, the part that wanted to say she was sorry, and the part that said actually, this was his problem and she’d done nothing wrong. But she couldn’t help remembering how he’d reacted when she’d told him about David. She owed him something. She owed him this.

  ‘I’m sorry your parents behaved like that.’ She stroked her fingertips across his bare chest, circling down, round one small dark nipple. He sucked in a sharp breath. ‘It must have been awful.’

  ‘Yeah, well. A lot of kids have it worse.’

  ‘And a lot of kids have it better,’ she pointed out. He set his hand to the nape of her neck, and Lottie closed her eyes for a moment, loving the touch, but then something occurred to her, and she opened her eyes. ‘How on earth have you managed to keep it out of the press?’

  ‘Bribery and corruption,’ he said, with a pained smile. ‘It’s an ongoing battle.’

  ‘But the auction…’

  ‘Yes,’ he replied, and his jaw set hard. ‘The auction.’

  ‘We could try to find a private buyer,’ Lottie said. ‘It’s not too late.’

  ‘Not for all of it,’ Josh said grimly. ‘And she’s insistent that it goes to auction. I’m trying to keep a handle on this, Lottie, but ultimately I’m not the one in control here.’

  ‘But surely she must know what will happen if the media start digging.’

  ‘She doesn’t believe she has a problem. And they’re going to be digging around in every crack, every crevice of her life looking for dirt.’

  ‘So what do we do?’

  ‘We keep going. The more time they waste on me, the less they have to spend on her.’

  ‘Do you think it will work?’

  ‘It’s worked for politicians for years,’ he said. ‘Nothing like inappropriate sex to draw attention away from what’s really going on.’

  Is that all they were? Inappropriate sex? Lottie bit her lip, refusing to give in to sudden tears. ‘Well,’ she said bravely, ‘I’m not sorry we had inappropriate sex last night. Are you?’

  ‘I don’t want to be,’ he said, his mouth a thin, hard line. ‘But I don’t want to be happy about it either. You were drunk. I should have taken you home. I should never have taken advantage of you. And do you know what really hacks me off? I liked you a little loose.’

  ‘You did?’

  A tight smile played at the corner of his mouth. ‘You got loud.’

  ‘Fortunately for the neighbours, I don’t think I’ll be getting loose again for at least another five years.’ She knew he was going to kiss her. Every nerve in her body went on high alert, her skin burning as he lowered his head and captured her mouth. She’d thought it would be angry, but it wasn’t. It was tender and exquisite and delicious and a million other things it shouldn’t be.

  ‘You’re doing something to me,’ he said, moving his head to taste her neck, her shoulder. ‘And I don’t know what the hell it is. I don’t like this, Lottie.’

  ‘This isn’t exactly going how I thought it would be either.’ She didn’t know what else to say. Her brain was fogged, and not just with the remnants of last night. ‘This was supposed to be pretend. I don’t know what we’re doing any more, Josh.’

  He reached round to cup her bottom, his cheeks flushed, the thick weight of his erect penis pressed against her belly. ‘We’re selling it,’ he murmured. ‘Remember?’

  She did remember. She remembered only too well. It was the only thing keeping her from falling headlong in love with him, and that was absolutely not on the agenda. The auction was only a couple of weeks away. They’d already added sex to the mess. Adding emotion was totally out of the question.

  The clatter of the letterbox snapped her fogged brain back to the present. Lottie lifted her hands to his chest and shoved him away. His erection tented the front of his pyjama pants, his belly muscles flexing as he fought to control his breathing. He was a heartbeat away from throwing her back onto the bed, she realised, and she was a heartbeat away from asking him to. ‘If we get back in that bed, we won’t get out of it again,’ she said warningly, backing away from him.

  ‘I’m not sure I have a problem with that.’ He rubbed his chin, the sound of morning stubble catching on his palm making h
er breath stick in her throat.

  But I do. And you should too. ‘Not right now, no. But when the blood gets back to your brain, you will. You said it yourself, Josh. You don’t want this.’

  He smiled at her, an angry little twist to his perfectly sculpted mouth. He folded his arms, as if he was folding himself in, guarding himself. ‘There are clean towels and soap and stuff in the bathroom. I’ll go and make more tea.’

  Alone in his enormous kitchen, Josh set to prepping breakfast and wished that he had a TV, a radio, anything to drown out the racket in his head. His stomach felt like he’d swallowed lead, his hands would not stay steady, and he felt as far from in control as he’d ever been. He’d just opened his mouth and spilled his darkest secret, and it had been way too easy.

  Whatever he’d thought was going on with Lottie, he’d got it wrong. Very, very wrong. None of the people who’d passed through his life in the past 28 years had made him want to reveal anything of himself, but something about her was different. And to top it all off, he’d had sex with her when she’d been drunk and he’d liked it.

  Which just about screwed everything up, didn’t it? Alcohol had always been the demon. He’d known exactly what it was, what it did, and nothing had ever altered his opinion on the matter. Until tipsy Lottie Spencer had got loud, and he’d had the best sex of his life right there on the hallway floor with her encouraging him onto an orgasm so powerful he could almost still feel the aftershocks.

  The sensible thing would be to get on a plane and get as far away from Lottie Spencer as possible, before he lost his remaining sanity. But he couldn’t do that. There was the club, the auction, and more than anything, there was Lottie herself. She was funny and honest and beautiful, and he liked being around her as much as he liked being in bed with her.

  He should walk away. He didn’t want to.

  This wasn’t a fling. He didn’t know what the hell it was, only that he was in way over his head, that he wasn’t sure he wanted to be in it, and that he had no idea how to get out of it.