by Liz Crowe
“I don’t appreciate you thinking I’ll jump in the sack with you just because you turn some kind of magic, rich-boy charm on me, that’s what.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t know I had rich-boy charm.” He moved away, leaving her strangely bereft. “And for the record, you were the one who said ‘jump in the sack’. I only asked if you had a boyfriend who would beat me up. Nothing more, nothing less.”
She had to stop herself from begging him to come back around to her side of the table. But she’d started down this path, so she figured she stay on it. “I’m not your type, Fitzgerald.”
“I’m pretty sure I know my type better than you do, Benedict.”
His calm voice irritated her. He turned his killer smile on the stupid girl bringing them their lunch and Evelyn cursed herself for being such a bitch.
But the guy was most likely after only one thing from her. One thing she was not about to give him. This was heartbreak on two designer-denim-covered legs, waiting to pounce.
“Look, Evelyn.” He held out a hand. She stared at it for a few seconds before realizing what he wanted. She regretted it the second their palms met.
Oh God.
She tried not to close her eyes against the chemistry between them.
He kept talking.
Which didn’t help.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to give you the wrong idea. You are an amazingly beautiful woman, and an incredible salesperson. I, um, didn’t really anticipate…oh hell.” He grinned and shrugged, giving her a friendly squeeze before releasing her. “Let’s just pretend that never happened, shall we? I’m out of line. Enjoy your lunch. Tell me about your life while I stuff my inner alpha male back in his cage.”
She smiled, happy to break the moment, but willing it back just the same.
In spite of the lust running rampant through him, Austin managed to choke down his burger and fries, slamming back one more beer to try to calm his rattled nerves.
She was his type.
She was definitely going to be, anyway.
He shook his head, needing to clear it of the foggy, possessive thoughts that had rolled through him all day.
Yeah, and how the hell do you really expect to end your current relationship, smart guy?
Valerie Masterson might be a beautiful, spoiled rich girl, but she was stubborn. She and his mother had worn him down. Valerie’s slightly dramatic talents between the sheets hadn’t hurt. But he had the impression it was a lot of show. It felt fine, physically, but at that precise moment, he acknowledged he had nothing in his heart for her. He owed it to her to cut it off.
Shaking his head at his own self-justifying inner dialogue, he paid—something that was expected on ride-along days—and spent a few minutes in the men’s room, staring in the mirror.
What in the hell had him so worked up over Evelyn Benedict, anyway? Nearly thirty-six years old, with the equivalent of a doctoral degree in brewing from Germany under his belt, he could now call himself president of one of the fastest-growing new microbreweries in Michigan.
He’d had his fair share of life’s adventures. His time in Germany had been well spent—not only becoming a legit Master Brewer but also screwing his way through as many lovely, willing Fräuleins as possible. But when faced with the ample determination of his mother, combined with the seemingly obvious connection with a woman who matched his means and upbringing, he’d caved like a beta male and he knew it.
He was a trust-fund baby, yes, but determined to make this one dream of his come true in spite of his father’s overwhelming disapproval. His goal of not taking another cent from the man after five years of business had seemed improbable at first, but he’d managed it.
Fitzgerald Brewing already operated in the black. His products were distributed throughout the entire state of Michigan, in Chicago, and down into Ohio. They were on track to expand and he’d cut the financial cord by signing a loan application that would no doubt give his father a heart attack but would allow him to continue the expansion his parents wouldn’t support.
He knew on some level he’d agreed to marry Valerie in exchange for his mother to stop haranguing him about his ‘obligation’ to their family company.
A quick flash of anger at his long-lost brother brought a flush to his face.
Maybe I should just drop off the face of the earth too. That seemed to have worked for him.
Then visions of the tall, blond German man who’d been his friend and fellow lady-killer in Germany at the brewing institute invaded his brain, shoving thoughts of his twin, his one-time best friend, out.
He and Ross Hoffman been fellow rookies his first year in Munich and the strong friendship that had sprung up between them had taken them both by surprise. Austin’s easygoing, relaxed manner had been a perfect foil to Ross, who was high-strung and driven to the point of obsession with his own brewing perfection. They’d ended up roommates and many a morning had woken with a lovely woman wedged between them.
Though he’d dabbled with threesomes in college, Austin had never encountered anyone more eager to engage in them than Ross. They used to enter a bar or party, take one look around and hold up fingers to each other indicating the number of minutes it would take to find a willing female, peel her away from the throng, and fulfill her every fantasy between them. He’d told Ross everything about his family and his parents’ ongoing belief that he’d get his little brewing obsession out of his system on their dime and return to Michigan prepared to take his rightful place at the head of the family business.
Ross hadn’t said much about himself, but had been a great listener and an amazing study and brewing partner—his first true friend since his brother. Even though he’d kept himself emotionally aloof—so aloof at times he was almost unapproachable—as long as he was willing to continue the threesome fun, Austin hadn’t minded, much.
He let a chill of memory pass through him, wishing he knew how to proceed. What had happened with Ross had had time to progress, become a deep friendship of the sort Austin had never dreamed possible, although they hadn’t stayed in touch like he’d thought they would.
Mental images of the beautiful woman waiting for him, no doubt tapping her patent-leather toes in impatience, forced him to pause. The crotch of his too-tight jeans had become decidedly uncomfortable as the images of her, gloriously naked beneath him, paraded around in his lizard brain.
Ross would know how to handle this.
Whenever there’d been a woman who’d needed a bit more convincing than their usual flirty banter, or the one-two punch of the handsome dark-haired American and the smoking-hot blond German brewer hadn’t convinced her, Austin had tended to drift away, lose interest. Then Ross used to move in and close the deal alone, give him a high sign, and the fun would commence. It was the ‘Ross Superpower’, they used to joke the morning after as they drank espressos and relaxed before a day of brewing or study.
Austin would admit that he’d never felt this way about a female, at least not this quickly. Women peopled his life, no doubt. Women thrust into his face by his meddling mother. An over-abundance of women during his years in Munich. And finally, the current one, the Chosen One, at this moment likely spending a small fortune on God knew what in Paris. This woman, this Evelyn, completely and utterly confident of her own independence—and of his predator status—would not normally appeal. Typically, he’d write her off.
This has the potential to be way too much trouble. You already have enough to worry about.
And yet…
He groaned and willed his cock to soften, without much luck. Shouldering his way back out to the noisy restaurant, he pulled up short at the vision of Evelyn seated in a chair in the hallway outside the women’s room. She was bent forward, adjusting her shoe, the strong line of her calf and thigh drawing his gaze like a magnet. He blinked as the fall of her thick blonde hair tumbled over her face, the ever-present phone held to her ear.
She laughed at whatever she heard and Austin jumped ri
ght into it, wanting more than anything to sleep and wake with that honey-rich sound in his ears. Every easygoing, go-slow bone in his body screeched to a halt and ushered in a need so deep he nearly choked on it.
Mine.
Without a single thought for the possible consequences, he squared his shoulders and pulled her to her feet.
“I’m on the phone,” Evelyn hiss-whispered, shocked, but he took it, touched the screen to end the call, and tucked it in his pocket, at the same time covering her mouth with his. His firm, forceful lips gave her a clear message. Her entire universe shifted under her feet when she met his tongue’s demand, let him sweep inside her mouth, thread his fingers into her hair, and push her back against the wall.
Holy hell, the guy sure knows how to kiss.
She made a noise in her throat when he moved his amazing lips from hers and traced a line down her neck. Against all logic, she wrapped her arms around him, angled her body so she could feel every inch of him, including the obvious erection straining his zipper. He moved one hand down her back, cupping her ass and pulling her tighter and higher up his body. To her utter shock, she parted her thighs, let him slip one of his between them. The restaurant noise faded, leaving nothing but the sound of their breathing in her ears.
He released her ass and reached up to cradle her face between his palms.
“Evelyn, you are—”
Flustered beyond imagining, she pushed him away. “Horny now, thanks to you.” He burst out laughing. She shook her head. “Sorry. I’m a little blunt. It’s a failing.”
He pulled her close again. “Not to me, it’s not. Let’s go.”
She frowned, disentangled herself and stared at him. “Oh, okay. Yeah.” She readjusted the skirt that had slid up her thighs, and forced the lusty mist clouding her brain to dissipate.
Not your type, remember? Work to do, remember? This trust-fund jerk only wants to notch his bedpost.
He still hadn’t moved out of her space. Placing her hands on his too-close chest, she cleared her throat and pushed him back once more. “You’re right. Let’s go. Work to do.” She grabbed her purse and marched out on wobbly heels, assuming he would follow.
By the time she’d made it to her car, a cold wind had picked up. She shivered, regretting leaving her threadbare dress coat at home. Tears of anger at herself threatened to spill over as she wrenched the door open, gasping when hands gripped her shoulders and span her around. He was so close she could see his square jaw clenching.
“Work is over,” he ground out.
“Are you nuts? Some of us have to put in a whole day, Fitzgerald. You know, bills to pay and all that?” Elbowing him aside, she climbed into the car, slammed the door, and prayed she hadn’t shut his hand in it.
She had to get away from him. Either that, or lose all control and prove herself a desperate, poor salesgirl, willing to let the rich boy between her legs after just one kiss. He slid into the passenger seat, slid his hand around the back of her neck, and brought his impossibly handsome face up to hers.
“Don’t.” She heard her voice, papery, thin, and shut her eyes against the temptation to let him do whatever he wanted.
“Open your eyes.”
That now familiar rasp in his voice made her whimper. When he kissed her again, it was gentle, taking his time, exploring her lips and tongue with his. She clutched at him over the console, gasping.
“You are perfect,” he said. “And I need to touch you more. Now. So let’s go. I’ll give you directions.” He gave her a soft kiss at the juncture of her collarbones, then sat back, keeping his fingers in her hair. She gulped and shook her head, turning to grip the steering wheel so hard her knuckles ached with the effort.
He pried her loose and put her hand against his chest. “Do you feel that?” His heart beat hard and fast under her palm. “I’m terrified of this. I can’t explain it. And I’ll excuse you from work. I know your boss.” He grinned.
Reality smacked her hard in the face, reminding her exactly what must be happening. Horny men were no new concept to her. Time to nip this in the bud before she did something she really regretted. She trailed her fingers down to the impressive bulge between his legs.
He squirmed when she cupped his balls. “I know what you want, Fitzgerald. It’s pretty fucking obvious. So keep your bullshit heartbeat-romance lines to yourself.” She turned to put her hands back on the wheel, her own heart whamming around in her chest.
How had this man, who’d been nothing but a name to scoff at, turn into something her every nerve ending cried out for—clamoring in her brain to give in, drive him home, and dive between his expensive sheets. Why couldn’t she just do that?
“I have work to do.” She hated how weak she sounded. “Sorry you don’t understand.” Turning the key, she jerked the car into gear. “I’m not some freebie that comes with the ride-along.” She tried to stop the words tumbling from her lips but couldn’t. “You can’t have me, Austin. Got it? I am not part of today’s deal.”
She glared at him when they stopped for a traffic light. The combination of unhappiness, desperation and regret on his face nearly unhinged her, made her want to turn into the nearest parking lot and jump him in broad daylight. But, surely, he knew how to put on such a face, used to coaxing stupid co-eds into his bed in the middle of the day while the rest of the world worked for a living.
No. I will not go there. He can find some other gullible girl. Surely a line of them exists somewhere.
Chapter Four
Austin stared at his computer screen, willing Evelyn’s face to stop dancing across his brain. But every time he thought he had her good and banished, her eyes, legs, the curve of her hip, or something funny—or even smartass—she’d said would surface, sending him into a spiral of longing. After a solid hour of battling his inner horny guy, he stood and stretched, groaning at the tension in his jaw.
Figuring that a bit of quality time in the brewery would clear his head, he started to pull off his sweater, still fighting the urge to call her, text her—hell, to jump in his car and drive to her place and kiss her again…and again.
The soft ping of an incoming Skype message paused him mid-strip. He frowned at the name that popped up, then sat back down. Shocked at the bizarre timing, he leaned on his elbows and contemplated the small photo alongside the name Ross.
Ignoring a text from his mother, he dropped into his chair and read the message from the man who’d turned his young life inside out during the three years learning how to do what he loved—brewing beer.
Memories assaulted him, taking him back to his early days at the brewing institute. Long days of grunt work—lugging hot rocks to place beneath the copper boiling kettles, being berated in German and other mind-and ego-numbing activity had taken their toll. One night, about eight months into the first year, Austin had collapsed on their couch after a particularly hot and miserable shift. As he’d sat trying to work the kinks out of his aching arms he’d heard Ross come in, then head for the kitchen.
When a fresh, cool, brown bottle of brew had appeared beside his neck, he’d taken it. Then strong hands had been on his shoulders, kneading out pressure. He’d flinched, then given into the deep-tissue manipulation Ross had offered, groaning as his body had released long-held stress.
“I got us a present,” Ross had whispered, making Austin’s entire body tingle. “Open your eyes, Austin, and take a look.”
Not one, not two, but three incredibly gorgeous women had met his gaze when he did. Austin had blinked, then turned slightly to find Ross still standing over him, hands resting on Austin’s shoulders. His deep blue eyes had been dark with lust as he’d watched the women file into the apartment. “I figured it was time to change up the odds a little. See what might happen.”
“Holy shit.” Austin had said, relishing the erotic energy in the room. “How did you…? Never mind,” he’d said as two of the women had begun undressing each other, slow and sexy, their full red lips touching then releasing, then grazing
nipples and firm flesh. Austin had felt completely limp with exhaustion, but his dick had been raring to go after a few minutes of the girl-on-girl show.
As he’d watched, Ross had inserted himself between the two now-naked hotties and had let them do their undress dance on him. The guy had been a match to them, physical-perfection-wise with his broad shoulders and sculpted arms and abs. And while Austin had known his own dick was larger than average, he’d also known from seeing it enough that Ross had been one of those rare, super-huge dudes. Most women would have gasped at the sight of it and this day he had three women staring in happy shock at its fully erect state.
“Lick her pussy,” Ross had demanded of one of them, as he’d pointed to another, hands on his hips. “My friend wants to watch.” He’d winked at Austin, then given one girl—a full-hipped, chesty type Austin knew from experience Ross preferred—a quick slap on her ass as she’d settled herself between girl number one’s legs and got to work.
Girl number three had moved around the sexy tableau on the rug in front of him and dropped to her knees in front of Austin. The whole thing had had an air of the surreal. While he’d never been a huge fan of porn, watching his friend finger one chick as she ate out her friend right in front of him had made him feel…strange. Chalking it up to his exhausted state, he’d watched as if from far away as number three had unzipped his jeans and taken his rigid cock between her lips.
The sounds, smells, and sights of their impromptu orgy had filled all Austin’s senses and he’d closed his eyes as the very talented young woman licked and sucked him. The one lying on the floor had begun to moan, then sigh then she’d cried out, which had made Austin open his heavy lids and take in the view of Ross’ giant, now-condom-covered dick entering her from behind. He’d had his hand tangled in her long black hair as he’d pounded into her, making her ample tits bounce and jiggle over the girl number one.
The sensation of being caught in some kind of weird, experimental dream had never left him as he’d let go and allowed himself to come down girl number three’s throat. Spent, he’d sat sprawled and gasping on the couch. She’d stood, wiped her lips, pecked his cheek, and ambled into the kitchen while Ross had fucked her friend on the floor so hard a lamp on a table she’d been hanging on to crashed to the floor.