Taming His Tutor (Entangled Brazen)

by Natalie Anderson

“No.” The words sounded dragged from him. “It’s something only you seem to pull from me.”

  She rolled onto her side and stared at him.

  Please. Don’t let this—the best sex of my life—be yet another man’s disappointment.

  …

  As Joe watched the array of emotions flit across her face, he felt his heart rip open out of his chest. That yearning. How the hell could she do this to him with just that look? “Damn it, Abbi, you make me want to…claim. To own,” he muttered. The words were choked out of his. Words he didn’t want to think, let alone say. “I have this urge to haul you close and make you mine.”

  He saw desire flare in her eyes as that familiar flush bloomed over her skin. He was hard again in a second. Fastest-ever recovery time. All he could think about was hauling her close, pushing himself deep and staying there.

  His. All his. Only his.

  He moved, flipping her onto her back. He deftly ripped off the used condom and pulled on another. He wanted her again. Now. Wanted her exposed and open to him.

  Maybe it was just that willingness—the way she looked at him. He could drown in the softness in her eyes. She made him ache for… He didn’t know what.

  He closed his eyes, thrust deep inside her, and concentrated. Keep in the present. It was all about now. And now was the delight of Abbi.

  He’d keep it slow this time. So slow she wouldn’t be able to cope. So slow she’d whimper and beg until he, too, was driven wild.

  “Every guy likes to tame and claim,” he muttered. “It’s all the more fun when it’s a demanding woman he’s up against.”

  “I’m not demanding.”

  “Yes, you are.” He bit the side of her neck and then licked the spot with a circular motion. “You’re fucking demanding.”

  And he loved it.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “Keep your interactions short and sweet.”

  At four thirty in the morning Joe slipped as quietly as he could from her bed.

  But she woke anyway.

  “Where are you going?” She sat up, pushing the hair from her eyes.

  He looked down at her. In the half light of predawn, he could see those blue eyes intent on him. Focused yet soft. Concerned. Caring.

  It was the way she’d looked at him all those years ago back when he’d been no one with nothing. She’d been the first, hell, the only one to look at him like that—with more than just lust in her eyes. She’d shown more than interest in just his body or, compared with women he’d met in later years, just his bank balance.

  Back then when he’d lain in bed alone and thought about her, this was the exact expression on her face. Her interest had been purely in him, not what he could maybe offer her. She’d looked like she cared about just him.

  Only now her looking at him like this was real. And now it felt wrong.

  There was too much depth to it—to her. To what she was offering with just her eyes. He didn’t want her concern or caring. He’d never wanted that from anyone. Never needed it.

  Never wanted to need it.

  Still didn’t.

  And he didn’t want to see her hurt. If he kept going like this, she was going to get hurt.

  Damn, he had to pull this back to the easy “lesson” sessions it was supposed to be.

  “Sssshhh.” He pressed his lips to hers, mainly to stop himself from staring into her eyes and falling. “Sorry. I’ve got a class. You go back to sleep.”

  “You’re crazy. People want to exercise at this hour?”

  Her soft tones tempted him. For once he didn’t want to leap out of bed. Which was exactly what he didn’t want.

  “Work comes first,” he answered more sharply than he’d meant to.

  There was a small silence. “I know that.”

  He gritted his teeth. She’d answered conciliatory enough, but he’d heard the slightest hurt in her tone. And fuck. She was right. The only kind of exercise people ought to be doing at this hour was the horizontal sort. But he’d never missed a class—was always the one to step in if one of his instructors was down, like today. And he’d never before had trouble leaving a lover to get to work. He wasn’t changing for anything. Or anyone.

  But he couldn’t leave her with that hurt lingering. Couldn’t undo the progress she’d made. Nor could he let this become more intense. Playful was the only way, right? He thought fast. “I’m going to be at Pelly’s bar at eight p.m. You’re going to walk in at eight eleven and you’re going to own me by eight thirty.”

  “Eight eleven?”

  “On the dot.”

  “And I’m going to own you?” She rolled onto her back, reached out for him in the dark.

  He took her wrist with one hand and folded her fingers into a fist with the other. “Have me like putty in your hand. Eager to please any way I can.” He punctuated his words by giving a playful squeeze.

  “How am I going to do that?” She shook her head. “This isn’t fair. You keep testing me all the time. Expecting me to be able to just do it and I don’t know—”

  He shut her up with a kiss. A slow, deep one. The hardheaded woman still didn’t understand that all she had to do was turn up and he was putty. But he didn’t want her to angst all afternoon about what she should do. “Okay.” He eased back. “So you’re still going to turn up at the bar. And you’re going to be picked up by a stranger.” He’d turn this into more of a role-playing thing, keep his distance that way.

  “Literally picked up?”

  She’d liked that the other night, hadn’t she? “Possibly.” He angled his head. “Think of it as a one-night stand. You’ve had that fantasy, right? Where you go off with a guy who you barely know and have hot sex?”

  “You know about that fantasy?” Her voice was soft and tempting in the darkness.

  “Everyone has a version of that fantasy.” He’d had that fantasy the second he’d seen her ass swaying as she’d walked across the road the other day.

  “You don’t think it’s dangerous and possibly degrading to let a guy I’ve barely spoken to use me that way?”

  “Aren’t you going to be using him?” He smiled. She could so use him. “And this is just a fantasy. It’s me in disguise. And I’m not dangerous. And I’d never degrade you.”

  She reached out and pressed her palm on his abs. “I know.”

  He was glad she did know that. “Fantasies are just fantasies. There’s no need to overanalyze. I’m okay with anything you want to explore with me. You can tell me anything, ask me anything. I’m not going to judge.”

  “You might laugh.”

  “That I might, but not because I’m being mean.” He bent close again, brushing the tip of his nose against hers. “I make you laugh.”

  “You do.”

  “So just let it go. Indulge. Enjoy. You’re safe with me.”

  “I know.”

  He could hear her satisfied smile. His cock twitched. He shook his head, surreptitiously grabbed the bag of toys, and was gone before he did something reckless and stayed.

  …

  Abbi was crazy nervous went she walked into Pelly’s bar at exactly 8:11 p.m. She knew he’d be there, but still. She felt like a fool. Scratch that. She felt vulnerable. She’d gone all-out vixen and worn a little black dress—lower-cut and clingier in the body but with a flared skirt. A vintage style that Nadia’s tailor had made. She’d left her hair loose, put on some makeup. She looked as good as she got and she knew that was actually pretty good. And she knew she had some follow-through skills now. With Joe, anyway.

  But she was still nervous.

  He was leaning against the bar, facing the door, obviously waiting for her and looking so totally off the charts. Jeans of course, but not the faded worn-in kind. These were dark, and with the black muscle-hugging tee, he looked like some super-sexy avenging warrior of the night—all tall and muscled and handsome way beyond everyday.

  She stopped just inside the doorway, her attention all on him already.

  He
lifted the beer bottle to his lips and took a swig, not taking his eyes from her. She stepped forward, watching him swallow, irritation spurting. His drink was more important to him than coming to say hello?

  Well, she wasn’t going to walk right over to him. She wasn’t making it that easy for him.

  Not this time.

  She walked to the bar, halfway along from where he was. Joe’s eyes felt like lasers, burning through the black dress. She knew he knew there were no panties underneath. One hell of a bra, yes, but no panties.

  The bartender immediately materialized.

  She knew why. She had cleavage on show. She never wore a dress cut this low normally. But then she never normally took home strangers from the bar either. Except for that once. But tonight was all about obliterating that memory and replacing it with something far more satisfying. This would be a new, better experience for her to build on.

  “What’ll it be?” the bartender asked, giving her an I’m-cool-but-I-know-I’m-hot look.

  “Vodka. On the rocks with a twist.” She barely glanced into his face, but she watched his hands as he fixed her drinks.

  She didn’t look over to Joe by sheer force of will. She was going to play this one cool. Question was, what did she have to do, to have him like putty? Ought she approach him? Hell, did she need to dig out her phone and search the beta version of the app for cheesy pickup lines? Why hadn’t she thought through her strategy sooner?

  She’d been too busy replaying last night’s super-hot-sex in her head.

  Peripherally she knew he still stood exactly where he’d been the moment she walked in the bar. He wasn’t moving. Nor was she. So…the putty thing was to be achieved how exactly?

  She looked up as the bartender placed her drink on the bar, catching his eyes. He smiled. She blinked. Of course. How could she have forgotten Nadia’s “no fail” four-second eye contact rule?

  Ignoring the still-looking bartender, Abbi glanced along the bar to where Joe stood. Her gaze collided with his. Held. Desire thrummed within her. Could he feel it? Could he read the message she was sending?

  One. Two. Three—

  His gaze suddenly shifted, beyond her. His brows lowered even as his eyes widened. He actually flinched and then tensed up all the more.

  Abbi blinked. She hadn’t even made it to the four seconds, hadn’t done the look down and back up thing.

  It had failed. With the one guy supposed to be guaranteed for her tonight.

  But his attention was so totally on something else. Someone?

  Her skin had gone as cold and clammy as if she’d dived into Arctic waters. But Abbi slowly turned her head to see just what was so interesting behind her.

  A woman. She was beautiful. Very tall, slim. She had the athletic sort of physique that would fit right in at Joe’s gym. Not that Abbi was jealous of that. It was the way he was looking at her that sucked. He was looking at her like he was starstruck or something. And the woman?

  Looking right back at him. Totally floored.

  Abbi turned back to her drink, her hands freezing but her cheeks flaming. She lifted her vodka and took a huge swig. It burned. But not as much as she wanted.

  No way was she walking up to him now. No way was she staying. She glanced at him again. He was still looking at that woman. Abbi couldn’t resist another glance over her shoulder at her again too.

  Yeah. Tall, willowy. Striking.

  Swallowing the hideous disappointment, Abbi turned back, unable to stop her glance from sliding to Joe once more. He’d managed to tear his eyes from the other woman. Now he was watching her. He knew she’d been looking at the other woman. He knew he’d been caught. And that she was bummed.

  How freaking mortifying.

  Just as she stood up from her stool, he walked toward her.

  “Come here often?” he asked roughly.

  “Seriously? That’s the best you’ve got?” She didn’t want to do this anymore.

  She got that this was just an arrangement for him, but to know that she was still so boring, he couldn’t even get through a few lousy lessons without being distracted by someone more…whatever that other woman was more.

  Joe said nothing. There was no easy smile. No tease. It was like he was a different person.

  “I’m leaving,” Abbi muttered.

  “I’ll come with you.”

  “Don’t feel you have to,” she suddenly snapped. “Especially if there’s someone else you’d rather talk to.”

  He took her hand, hard, and started walking. Furious, Abbi refused to make a scene in front of other people. Refused to make a scene at all. He was a free agent, could do what he liked. And she’d tell him so, as soon as they were alone.

  As the door to the bar slammed behind them she wrenched her hand free of his and marched in the general direction of her apartment.

  “That wasn’t what it looked like,” he called after her.

  She said nothing. Couldn’t just yet. It wasn’t her business anyway, was it? This wasn’t about them sharing anything other than their bodies. He had every right to a private life. And if he’d seen another woman he was intensely interested in?

  “She’s my sister.” He ground the words out, like it was the last thing he wanted to say.

  Abbi stopped still on the sidewalk and swiveled to face him. “Your sister?” She’d had no idea he had a sister. Instinctively she knew he didn’t mean a foster-family sister. She re-framed that episode in her mind. That woman’s height? Those long limbs? He was talking flesh-and-blood family. Abbi marched back to him and grabbed hold of his arm. “Why didn’t you talk to her?”

  Hell, he hadn’t even waved. He’d stared at her for such an intense moment. And that woman had seen him too. But then Joe had looked away. He’d collared Abbi and gotten the hell out of there.

  Why?

  “I’m sorry, this lesson was a bust,” Joe said shortly, ignoring her question.

  She wasn’t sorry. She was dying of curiosity. But even more than that, she was desperate to help him somehow. Because he was hurt.

  She held her breath, trying to figure out what she should do or say or whatever. But Joe was definitely feeling crapola. She could see it in his tense stance, in the way he wouldn’t meet her eyes, in the uncharacteristic gruffness of his voice.

  “Do you want to go back to the bar?” she asked softly. “I can grab a taxi home…if you’d rather go back alone…”

  “I’d rather you didn’t…”

  The guy actually looked awkward. But somehow she didn’t think he’d want to grab a coffee and sit and talk in some late-night cafe.

  What did he do when he wanted to escape? Oh, she knew. But she wasn’t confident enough to lay one on him. Not yet. Maybe some other exercise might have the same effect? Admittedly not in quite such a satisfying way, but it was worth a shot, right?

  “Why don’t we go to the gym? I could play on the equipment,” she said. “I’m never going to do that in the daytime, you know.”

  A short laugh burst from him. “Okay. Sure.”

  It was only a few minutes’ walk to his gym. Kicking her shoes off as soon as they got there, Abbi stepped into the gym floor area, fascinated to explore the big space when there was no one else there.

  She ran a hand over one of the exercise machines that was on the perimeter of the circuit and glanced over at him. “Show me some moves?”

  She liked the idea of watching him work out while butt-naked. She could watch every one of those amazing muscles flex. But she might have to wait another five minutes before asking him to strip. He still looked way too uptight.

  He shook his head. “I’ve already taken a class today.”

  “Only one?” She looked at the machine again. “Pity.”

  “You can come along to a class anytime.”

  Oh, she so wasn’t ever going to do one of his classes. She walked farther into the workout area and came across a container full of balls.

  Bingo.

  She grabbed one, turn
ing to quickly throw it to him.

  He caught it instantly, with one hand. Of course.

  “You like one-on-one?” she asked.

  “You know I do.”

  And no doubt he also knew she’d be absolutely hopeless at it. Which she was. But that didn’t stop her from trying. The guy knew all her most embarrassing secrets. So what if he saw her panting and unable to catch a damn ball?

  But she did catch the ball as he threw it back. She turned and ran, attempting to dribble the ball, but only letting it bounce the once before she just held onto it and ran, giggling as he quickly caught on and chased her. She ducked in behind one of the exercise machines, into a space too small for him to follow.

  “That’s not fair,” he waggled a finger at her.

  “I know, and now I’m stuck anyway.”

  “Come on out, I won’t bite.”

  “Much.” She laughed and threw the ball back at him. “Do you miss playing?”

  “Nah.” He spun the basketball on his finger. Then stopped and sent her a rueful smile. “Okay, sometimes.”

  She’d thought he must. It had been such a big part of his life. “You still see your teammates?”

  He shook his head. “They’re busy. Need to focus.”

  She frowned. “You’re not in touch with them at all?” But suddenly she knew the answer before he said it.

  “After that injury…the team was better off getting on without me,” he said, bouncing the ball a few times as if testing it. “I’m not bitter, though.” He gently lobbed it back to her. “The accident was unfortunate, but I’d been so lucky ’til then. I got a real good platform to build on.”

  “That wasn’t luck,” she said softly. She stole out from behind the machine and picked up another of the balls, sucked up the guts to ask the question. “So you don’t see your sister much either?”

  There was a moment of silence. To fill it, Abbi threw that ball at him. He caught it, then bounced both a few times.

  She held her breath but didn’t ask more; if he wanted to say anything else he would. She hoped he would—she seemed to have developed a stalkerish interest in everything about him. But she knew he was probably more likely to turn the tone back to sex.

  Which would also be fine. They’d been heading back there pretty quick anyway. And frankly, she just wanted to see him smiling again.