But then something was wrong. Instead of pulling her closer so she could feel the length of him pulsing against her belly, he was pushing her...away.
"Hunter?"
He squeezed his eyes shut and clenched his jaw. "Bailey. Let’s get you into bed. Pull out your pajamas or whatever and get changed. We can talk about this later. When you're sober. Because when you're sober, I am so down for having this conversation. But not now when you’re trashed. Come on, off to bed."
She let him lead her down the hall to the bedroom. Even as she muttered, "I like the idea of off to bed."
He chuckled low. "Bailey. Stop. I don't want you to regret anything that you say tomorrow." With an efficiency that showed he’d done this before, he unzipped her pencil skirt and then turned his back while simultaneously handing her a pair of leggings. “Put these on."
She took them from him, but then she swayed. Her stomach roiled and suddenly she didn't feel so good. "Hunter? I feel a little sick."
He whirled back around and studied her, his eyes intense. "Okay, off to the bathroom."
He carried her. Had she been sober, she would've known enough to be embarrassed. Right now, she didn't really care. When he set her feet down on the cool tile in her bathroom, she swayed again.
Hunter’s hands eased into her hair and he pulled the strands back off her shoulders and held them gently as if his hand was her ponytail holder.
Even as he tucked her hair behind her ears, her stomach screamed at her as if to say, Bitch, next time don't have three shots of vodka. Because why?
Bailey meant to kneel down to the toilet but she misjudged the distance. So when her stomach finally give up the fight, cramping and trying to eject everything she'd imbibed, she partially got the sink, but mostly she got Hunter.
Could this get any worse?
Fuck him.
No, seriously, Hunter really wished she would fuck him.
He looked up at the ceiling and inhaled deeply three times. Ever since Bailey Jones had shown up at Bold Horizons he’d had a perpetual state of blue balls. And he was certainly going to need balls of steel to deal with this situation.
How is this even happening?
First of all, Bailey thought he was hot? From the get-go, she’d made it a point to ignore any flirting from anyone in the office. When he hadn't immediately come on to her, she’d seemed relieved and actually became his friend.
He hadn’t meant for things to work out quite that well. Yes, of course he wanted to get to know her, but he’d been trying to give her space before asking her out.
It was a new tactic for him. Normally, he had zero problems with women. He looked at them, they knew he wanted them, they smiled back, and usually approached him. Or at least, when he approached, there was no hesitation, no question. Everybody was there for the party.
But with Bailey, things were different. For starters, he worked with her. And he knew better than to shit where he ate. Even if some of the girls there were beautiful. It wasn’t worth the hassle.
Secondly, he liked her. She was smart, funny, and had this way of putting him completely at ease. She didn't take herself too seriously. It didn't matter how shitty his day was, the moment she smiled, or laughed, or started telling him some ridiculous story, he immediately relaxed. If anything went wrong in his life, Bailey was his first call. Somehow, the girl he'd been trying to sleep with had become his best friend. He had it bad.
Someone was coming for his player card any moment now.
Deal with the problem at hand. Right now, Bailey was trashed. Completely and totally obliterated. Oh, and she’d thrown up all over him, so there was that. A shower was needed for both of them. How the hell was he going to manage this?
Hunter gritted his teeth. "Bay, we need to get in the shower."
She sloppily grinned up at him. "Now you're talking."
Oh hell. The things she was saying. If he didn't know better, he’d think she wanted him. But no, she was drunk. Bailey with all her sober senses would never say any of these things. Didn’t matter though, his dick was harder than iron.
Apparently, even though he knew she didn't mean it, his dick hadn’t gotten with the program. He was here to be best-friend Hunter. Not I-want-to-fuck-you-in-the-shower-up-against-the-wall-until-you-scream-my-name Hunter. That Hunter was on hiatus. At least for Bailey he was.
Oh, he dated, but casually. Very casually. Because usually the women he went out with, he found lacking within one or two dates. After all, they weren’t Bay. Dammit, he had a real problem.
His dick twitched as if to say, damn straight, you do.
He sighed. "Bay, you’re going to finish getting undressed. Can you cooperate with me while we get this done?"
She nodded at him and gave him a happy smile. God, that smile. Sometimes it was the most perfect thing about his day.
He shed his clothes but left on his boxer briefs. Next came the rest of Bailey's clothing. He did the best he could without looking.
Her stockings nearly did him in as he unhooked them from the garters and peeled the gossamer fabric down. He knew that particular memory would be forever imprinted in his spank bank.
Once she tossed away her blouse and garter belt, she stood there in the flimsiest pair of silk panties and some gravity-defying bra that only covered about half her breasts. She looked like she was going to spill out of it at any second. And it sure as shit didn't help that the damn thing was lacy and see-through.
With a dry mouth he muttered, “Get in."
She giggled. "I thought you were joining me."
Fuck. He was joining her. But he needed a second to get his erection under control. He climbed in after her, and the water hit them both. But then she peeled off her bra and revealed the most perfect pair of tits he'd ever seen in his life. Milky skin. Rose-tipped nipples. Jesus H. Christ. His imagination offered all the things he could do with breasts like hers. Hold them, weigh them, play with them, lick them…fuck them.
Shit, that was really not helping.
He just needed to get this done and touch her as little as possible.
He grabbed her sponge thingy and handed it to her before squirting shower gel on it. "Start washing yourself."
Bailey made a face. "I want you to wash me."
Me too. But that wasn't going to happen.
"Bay, follow directions. I’ll start with your hair.” He found her shampoo, some raspberry-scented organic something or other. As a stream of water hit his back, he let it hit the back of her hair so the water would drench it. And that was when he noticed. She’d removed her underwear, too.
"Bay, what happened to your panties?"
She glanced at him over her shoulder and winked. “Well, I was wet."
He swallowed hard. "We’re in the shower. We’re both wet."
She shook her head. "That's not what I meant."
He. Was. So. Fucked.
He shampooed her hair as quickly as he dared. Lathering and making sure it was nice and clean. And then he stepped aside, letting the spray drench her hair and helping her rinse it out. All the while she kept lazily rubbing soap over her body. And Jesus Christ, he wanted to help so badly. But that was a slippery slope.
Standing here, trying desperately to look at the ceiling while he knew she soaped her tits, tested the limits of even his control.
Once her hair was rinsed out, he added the leave-in conditioner and gently worked it through her hair. She moaned, low and throaty, and his dick threatened to come without his fucking say so.
He could do this. He was the good guy. The sexually charged Hunter—the one who was demanding in bed, and got what he needed—he wasn’t that Hunter when he was with her. Because he cared about her. He had to remember that.
After he gently took the brush through her hair from the tips to the roots as she instructed, she turned to face him, and he pinned his gaze directly over her shoulder and to the other side of the wall.
"Hunter, I just wanted to say thank you. Sorry I threw up."
>
He shook his said. "Not your fault. You had a hell of a trauma tonight. And so you overdid it. No big deal. We've all been there."
She pressed her body into his and—what do you know?—his dick pulsed in his boxers. And then, ever so helpfully, Bailey rubbed her soapy tits on his chest. He let out a low groan that was part growl and struggled with the reins of his control. But it wasn't until she giggled and wrapped her delicate hand around his boxer-clad cock that he lost it.
"Bailey, stop. One day soon, we’re going to redo this whole scene. When that happens, I will have you turn that hot little ass around, plant your hands on the wall, and then I will bury my dick inside you. But right now is not that time."
She pouted, but she didn't release him. "But why not? You obviously want me."
“And you are obviously trying to get a spanking."
Her eyes fired wide. But her pupils also dilated. Well, well. It looked like Bailey was totally down for a spanking. Why did that make him want to give her one even more? Lucky for him, she wasn't too keen on listening. Because she shimmied and pressed her tits into him farther.
"Bailey. Last warning. You need to quit or you will feel my handprint on your ass."
"Hunter. I think I like this dominance in you." And then she kissed his chin. And added a little peek of her tongue as a way to torment him.
He didn't mean to do it, but he couldn't help himself. He firmly set her away from him, turned her around and placed her hands on the opposing wall. Leaning over her back, his dick tented his boxers and pressed into the soft flesh of her ass.
When he whispered, his voice was low, "I warned you. Enough is enough.” The crack of his palm over her ass surprised them both. She gasped, but then moaned low. And for him, well, the tingling started at the base of his spine.
No. No. No. He was not going to fucking come right now. Not okay. But he was walking away with one piece of knowledge tonight. Bailey Jones liked dominant Hunter. And he was done being a nice guy.
He took the little sponge and scrubbed himself off in seconds while he kept her in that position. He quickly washed down her back and legs. But at that point, his movements were perfunctory. In seconds, he had them both out of the shower. He paused to toss his clothes in the washer on the quick wash cycle, then grabbed them towels.
When they had both toweled off, he marched her into the bedroom, and handed her a ratty T-shirt from her bottom drawer. The thing was huge, but he dragged it over her head before pulling back the covers and waiting for her to get in.
"Are you joining me?"
Hunter shook his head even as his cock made an attempt to escape the towel slung around his hips. "No. But don't worry Bay, we’re going to do this real soon. And next time, I'm going to enjoy making your ass red. I promise I’ll make sure to kiss it all better." He ignored her soft gasp and left her in the bedroom while he headed to the living room to watch TV and wait for his clothes to dry.
Once he was dressed again, he let himself out of her apartment. One good thing had come from tonight: now he knew exactly how to handle Bailey Jones.
Three
When Bailey woke up the next morning, it was with the distinct sense that she should be mortified. Her head was cloudy and her mouth tasted like old laundry, so that was a dead giveaway. She’d had way too much to drink last night.
Then she had a flashback of grabbing Hunter’s dick in the shower. Oh God.
She sat up slowly, moaning as her stomach rebelled against the motion. What time was it? The memories from the prior day started coming back, and her shoulders sagged when she remembered that it was a Saturday. How could she have forgotten? She’d been pissed to be at the office late on a Friday and that was how the whole thing had started. Bailey grimaced as she remembered why she’d run out of the office like a hound of death was on her heels.
She’d seen Mr. Dent and his extremely small, ahem, dent. Then she’d taken her clusterfuck of a day and doubled down by getting drunk and climbing all over her best friend. He’d been so nice about it, too. Didn’t that make it all the worse? She’d basically sexually assaulted the poor man and he’d just put her to bed like a naughty child.
Grateful that the horrible mini-Dent incident had at least taken place on a Friday, Bailey got out of bed and struggled through a shower. There was a load of things she needed to do around the house. She could keep herself busy by catching up on her to-do list and not even think about the massive cringe-fest that was waiting for her Monday morning. Because she couldn’t afford to lose this internship. She needed the college credit and the recommendation if she’d have any chance of getting a job after graduation. And make it into a good MBA program.
She’d have to face Mr. Dent like nothing had happened and smile the whole time. Ugh. Then she’d have to face Hunter like she hadn’t thrown herself at him and then been rejected. Double ugh.
She was in the middle of doing her second load of laundry when the first text from Hunter came in.
Hunter: Hey, how are you feeling today?
Bailey ignored it. She wasn’t quite ready to exchange cute text messages about her ridiculous behavior last night. Maybe one day in the future they could joke about it. The distant, distant future. Perhaps by then she’d have forgotten that her friend Hunter had shredded abs and was totally alpha male in the bedroom. Something Bailey wouldn’t have thought she’d like but that had totally turned her on last night. She rubbed her ass. It was still slightly sore from when he’d spanked her. Her face flooded with heat and her panties got damp instantly.
Then he texted again.
Hunter: Hope you took the aspirin I left next to the bed.
Bailey frowned. He’d left medicine for her? She hung her head. He really was a sweetheart. No wonder she’d come on to him so hard. It wasn’t something she’d usually admit, but Hunter really was her ideal man. Handsome, intelligent, and humble. A killer triple-threat combo that would make any woman instantly dream of wedding bells. But that didn’t mean she wanted him to know that she secretly lusted for him.
“This sucks!”
Bailey stabbed at the button on the washing machine to turn it on. Everything was going to be ruined now. The whole reason her friendship with Hunter worked so well was because there was none of the weird flirting that usually ended up wrecking male-female friendships. He’d always been perfectly respectful and she had made sure to treat him the same way. Until last night. How did you go back from a drunken dick grab? He’d seen her naked. She’d asked him to wash her. It didn’t get any more blatant than that. Now when he saw her he was always going to think about the things she’d done and said when she was drunk.
Her phone rang and the sound startled her. Hunter’s picture flashed on the screen and the image of that perfect face taunted her.
Aren’t you glad you ruined our friendship?
Now things are going to be awkward.
Thanks for grabbing my dick but I don’t like you that way.
Not that Hunter would ever say those things, but wasn’t that really what it all came down to? Bailey had done stupid things while drunk before and that was why she usually kept a close eye on how many she had at happy hour. Vodka was a fickle friend, and she didn’t enjoy waking up and not knowing where she’d been the night before even though she usually brushed things off pretty easily the next day. But she couldn’t just brush this off.
The reason it was so embarrassing was because she liked Hunter and he didn’t like her back.
She managed to dodge his calls the rest of the day and all of Sunday. He’d even sent a text message threatening to come over so she’d thrown on sweats and a baseball cap and gone grocery shopping. But now it was Monday morning and as she rode the elevator up to her floor, there was nowhere for her to hide.
At least she probably wouldn’t see Hunter until lunchtime. He was one of the best client associates at the firm—everyone said so—and as a result, he was always extremely busy. At least she’d have a few hours to figure out what to say to
him.
She walked up to her cubicle and gasped. Hunter was sitting in her chair.
“Good morning, Bailey.” His eyes took in her slim skirt and the artfully applied makeup that she normally didn’t bother wearing.
“Morning,” she muttered, taken completely off guard.
What the hell? She hadn’t expected him to ambush her, although she probably should have. One of the reasons everyone said Hunter was on the fast track was because he was relentless when working on something. He didn’t let anything stop him from getting what he wanted.
“I just wanted to make sure you were okay after getting abducted by aliens. Or being struck down with the plague.” At her confused look, he crossed his arms. “What other reason could you have for avoiding me for two days?”
Bailey wasn’t going to touch that question. If Hunter wanted to pretend he didn’t know why she was embarrassed, she was more than happy to play along. She wanted nothing more than to forget the past week. Amnesia sounded pretty good to her. She dropped her bag next to her desk.
“I had a lot of stuff to do this weekend. A lot of…cleaning.”
Hunter snorted. “So that’s how we’re playing this? You’re going to pretend that you didn’t show me those perfect tits and give me a permanent case of blue balls?”
Hunter watched as Bailey’s face went red. Damn, she was a sexy little thing, especially when she was flustered.
She glanced around nervously to see if anyone had overheard. Luckily there was no one nearby. He’d gotten here early, figuring she’d try to sneak in before everyone else and then go hide in the bathroom.
“Perfect tits. Blue balls?” Bailey whispered. “What are you talking about?”
Hunter shook his head and stood. Her eyes followed as he buttoned his suit jacket. Bailey pressed her thighs together and Hunter smiled knowingly. She may not want to admit it, but she was just as affected by him as he was by her. And he knew he looked good naked. He dedicated a lot of time in the gym to making sure of that.
“You know exactly what you did to me. You’re a little tease, Bailey.”
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