“I beg your pardon?”
“Prove it. Prove to me you can take care of yourself and you won’t hear another peep out of me.”
Her jaw dropped open. “You are unbelievable. I don’t have to prove anything to you.”
“You’re the one with all the big talk. What have you done? A self-defense course? A bit of tai chi or something?”
She gave him a scathing look.
“Go home, Jon. Before you really piss me off.”
“Lady, you have no idea.”
He moved closer, crowding her. Every instinct screamed at her to back off, but she refused to play his game.
“I’m not scared of you.”
“I’m not the one you need to worry about.”
He was so close now she could feel his warmth. His chest brushed her folded arms. She had to tilt her head to maintain eye contact with him, he was so much taller than her.
“What next? Are we going to have a stare-off?” she asked. “Or maybe we could see who can hold their breath the longest?”
He responded by moving closer again, so close that his thighs were pressed against hers, his whole body looming over her. Even though she was determined not to be intimidated, she couldn’t stop herself from arching away from him a little. She felt the desk against the back of her thighs and realized she really was cornered.
“Wow. Impressive.” She hated the fact that her voice rose slightly on the final word. She flat-out refused to be intimidated by him. “You’ve proven you’re bigger than me. I bet if we got a tape measure your dick would be bigger than mine, too. Is that enough superiority for you for one night?”
He planted a hand either side of her on the desk, effectively boxing her in.
“I know you’ve got a tongue in your head, but that’s not going to stop someone who wants to hurt you. Show me how you can look after yourself, Gabby,” he said, his voice low and dangerous.
Their faces were inches apart. She could see the individual whiskers of his five o’clock shadow, could smell his skin and his deodorant.
“I’m not playing games with you.”
His body was hot and hard against hers, six foot plus of solid, angry male. “Aren’t you?”
There was something in his eyes that made her shiver all the way to the soles of her feet.
“Back off or I’ll give you a head start on singing soprano.”
Before he could respond, she ducked under his arm and darted to her left. She barely made it two steps before he was on her, slamming her into the wall. She struck out blindly with her right arm but he grabbed it before it contacted, pinning it to the wall beside her head. She used her knee, but he deflected it with his leg. She fisted her left hand and drove it into where she hoped his solar plexus was, keeping her thumb tucked on the outside the way she’d been taught. He grunted, then he had her left arm, too, and she was pinned by his body weight and his grip on her arms.
They were both panting, their chests heaving as they glared at each other.
“Is that it?” Jon demanded. “That all you’ve got?”
He released her left arm, sliding his hand boldly down her body to grab her backside. His hand spread wide, he hoisted her higher up the wall. His hips pressed into hers, and she could feel the hard length of his erection pressing against her stomach. Something primitive and utterly instinctual exploded inside her.
“Not even close.” She fisted her hand in his T-shirt and leaned forward, sinking her teeth into the thick cord of muscle where his neck met his shoulder.
He stilled. She tasted salt and skin and her head was full of the smell and feel of him. So big and hard and strong. She pressed her tongue against him, tentatively at first, then more brazenly.
Slowly she relaxed her jaw. Lips replaced teeth as she explored his neck with hungry openmouthed kisses. The hand on her backside tensed, then relaxed, and then Jon’s hips were grinding into hers and both of his hands were on her backside, as well, lifting and angling her, encouraging her to wrap her legs around his hips. She locked her ankles behind his back and moaned against his throat as she felt his erection pressing against her where she needed it most.
“Gabby,” Jon said, his voice pure gravel.
His mouth found her ear, then the sensitive skin beneath it. She pulled him closer. He kissed his way across her cheekbone until finally their mouths met, a fiery clash of lips and teeth and tongues as they tried to devour each other.
She slid a hand down his chest to find the hem of his T-shirt. His belly muscles tensed as she smoothed her palm upward until she was cupping one smooth pec in her hand. Jon angled her head back, intensifying their kiss. She found his nipple with her thumb and rubbed it before pinching it firmly. He jerked against her, then suddenly the wall was gone from behind her. He dropped her on the desk, still kissing her, and she swept her arm blindly to clear the surface, pushing papers over the edge with reckless abandon.
He broke their kiss, stared at her. For the first time since she’d known him everything he was feeling was in his eyes for her to see—need and desire and demand. Maintaining the eye contact, she used her elbows to crawl backward until she was lying fully across the desk. She reached for the hem of her tank top and yanked it over her head. He did the same with his T-shirt. She eyed his chest and belly, excitement surging inside her. She snapped open the front closure on her bra and let it slide down her arms.
Jon’s eyes roamed from one peak to the other before he put a knee on the desk and climbed on top of her. Her legs fell open in welcome. He ducked his head and pulled a nipple into his mouth, his tongue laving her roughly before sucking firmly. The pleasure was exquisite, sharp and sweet, and she arched, grabbing his head and hanging on for dear life.
He suckled her till it almost hurt, then soothed her with his tongue before switching his attention to her other breast and starting all over again. She moved restlessly, her hands running over his shoulders and back and belly, her hips rubbing against his. He was so big, so overwhelming, but she didn’t feel overpowered. She felt powerful. Sexy. Desired.
He blazed a second trail across her body with his hand, cupping her breast, pinching her nipple, gliding down her rib cage to her belly. She trembled as his hand smoothed over her skirt then beneath it to her widespread thighs.
“Please,” she pleaded brokenly.
She didn’t even know what she was asking for, but Jon seemed to understand. He slid his hand onto her mound, cupping her quivering sex in his palm, exerting just the right amount of pressure. She started to pant, her fingers digging into him.
He replaced his hand with a single, knowing finger as he traced the seam of her sex through her underwear. She jerked against him when he found the right spot and she felt him smile against her breast. Then his thumb was rubbing her and she forgot to breath.
It was so good. So intense. She felt like a teenager again, as though she was discovering all of this for the first time. Her first kiss, her first caress, her first taste of true desire.
Except she was a women, not an inexperienced girl, and she knew exactly what she wanted.
Her frantic hands found the waistband of Jon’s jeans and tugged at the stud there. He slipped a finger beneath the elastic on her underwear and made an approving sound when he felt how wet and ready she was. She almost came off the desk when he slid a finger inside her. She clenched her thighs around his hips and moaned as he stroked her again and again. Tension built inside her, an ache that demanded satisfaction. She renewed her assault on his jeans, tugging the zip down and reaching into his boxers for his erection. Her hand closed around him and she gave a little moan of approval. He was incredibly hard, and so long and thick she wanted to cry.
He slid a second finger into her, his thumb hitting her sweet spot every time he withdrew.
She shivered and twisted beneath him, craving so much more.
“You,” she whispered. “I want you.”
She pushed at the waistband of his jeans again, and he took the hint and
pushed them the rest of the way down, his mouth never leaving her breasts. She levered her hips up and slid off her panties, tugging at the tie on her skirt to free herself. Jon lifted his head from her breasts to finish kicking off his jeans. She stared at his erection as he tore open the foil packet he took from his pocket. He was every bit as big and beautiful as she’d imagined. More so. Her gaze traveled hungrily over his powerful thighs and the defined ridges of his belly. She’d never seen a man like him.
He smoothed on the condom, his movements slow and very deliberate. He surveyed her when he’d finished, his gaze traveling over her breasts and belly before zeroing in on the heart of her. She bit her lip as he smoothed a hand up her thigh, using his thumb to tease her intimate folds, watching his own actions and her reaction with a focused, knowing intent.
His gaze found hers. Neither of them broke the contact as, at last, he pushed forward, probing her entrance with his erection. Then he flexed his hips and she closed her eyes to savor the slow, thick slide as he came inside her for the first time.
She gripped him with her thighs, her hands, her inner muscles. He felt so good. So right.
He muttered something under his breath—possibly unbelievable, she wasn’t sure—then he started to move with deep, controlled strokes.
She lost track of time. The world contracted to the feel of him inside her, to the suction of his mouth on her breasts, to the knowing caress of his thumb just above where they were joined. She smoothed her hands over his body, reveling in the sheer strength of his shoulders, squeezing his firm, round ass in her hands, digging her fingers into the muscles of his back, wrapping a leg around his hips to encourage him deeper.
Jon made a guttural noise and abandoned her breasts to kiss her, his hand framing her jaw as his tongue slid against hers, his teeth nipping at her lips before he plunged deep to claim her.
She tensed as her climax swept toward her, holding her breath. Her back arched and she closed her eyes tightly.
“Yes. Come for me, Gabby,” he whispered near her ear. “Come for me.”
Her climax seemed to last forever, a never ending wave of pleasure. He wrung every last drop from her with small, nudging thrusts, barely withdrawing before grinding himself into her again. Finally, the pleasure waned, and she opened her eyes to find Jon watching her, a triumphant glint in his eye.
He ducked his head to kiss her, then he began to move inside her once more, his thrusts increasingly urgent. His upper lip curled back from his teeth, his jaw clenched. His body tensed, every muscle solid. He drove himself deep inside her one last time, pressing his cheek against hers, his breath harsh in her ear as he shuddered out his own climax.
She felt the tremors in his body, felt him ride the wave of pleasure.
He let his weight rest on her for a moment afterward. She could feel his heart hammering, could feel the dampness of sweat where his body pressed against hers—chest, belly, thighs. Then he pushed himself up, withdrawing from her as he rolled to the side.
She blinked at the ceiling, feeling utterly drained and more than a little dazed. Her heart was pounding in her ears, her sex throbbing with the intensity of their lovemaking. Her brain was foggy, overwhelmed with sensation.
She’d never experienced anything like it. She felt…subsumed. As though she’d lost a piece of herself.
He stood and she watched as he stooped to put on his jeans. It wasn’t until he looked at her that she came fully down to earth. He’d retreated behind his guard again, giving away nothing, and she was suddenly acutely aware that she was sprawled on her desk, naked, while he was mostly dressed.
“Won’t be a moment,” he said.
He left her office. She assumed it was to dispose of the condom. She slid off the desk. She didn’t bother trying to pull her bra on, instead scooping her tank top from the floor and turned it right side out with not-quite-steady hands. She was knotting the tie on her wrap skirt when Jon returned.
Her gaze gravitated to the angry red mark on his left shoulder, a perfect imprint of her bite. Never in her life had she deliberately hurt anyone, and definitely not during sex.
She looked away from the evidence of her own out of control need. She crouched and began to collect the paperwork she’d pushed off her desk. After a few seconds he joined her.
“It’s fine. I’ve got it,” she said tightly.
He kept working and she clenched her jaw.
Five minutes. Five minutes and this will be over with, she promised herself.
Finally, they’d collected the last of the papers. She stood. Jon followed suit. He placed his pile of on her desk and she put hers beside it.
“Gabby.”
He hadn’t put on his T-shirt yet and she couldn’t look at him, couldn’t stand the sight of the mark she’d put on his shoulder.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” she said.
He was silent for a long moment and she could feel him looking at her.
“I need to know if you’re okay. Did I hurt you?”
Her gaze flew to his face. “No. Of course not.”
He was the one with the mark on his shoulder, not her.
He studied her face. “Okay.”
He turned to collect his T-shirt from where he’d thrown it over her chair and her throat tightened when she saw his back. Welts criss-crossed his shoulders and lower back, more evidence of how crazy she’d been.
She glanced down at her hands. Her nails weren’t even that long.
“I think you should go.” She desperately needed to be alone. Any second now she was going to lose it, and the last thing she wanted was for Jon to witness it.
He took a long time to answer. “If that’s what you want.”
“It is.”
He didn’t say anything more, simply turned and left. She listened to the sound of him walking through the workshop. She heard the exterior door open, then close. Then and only then did she let out the breath she’d been holding.
She was in shock. There was no other way to phrase it. Never in her life had she experienced anything so intense, so all consuming. She had literally been beyond control. She’d goaded Jon, then she’d fought him and hurt him before she’d finally admitted what she really wanted from him.
And not once—not for a second—had she thought about Tyler. It had all been about Jon. His body. The way he looked at her. How much he infuriated her. The things he said to her. The way he challenged her.
She didn’t understand herself. The night of her birthday dinner she’d been convinced she still loved Tyler. The pain in her chest had been real. Her grief had been real. Her tears had been real.
And yet less than a week later she’d had knock-down, drag-out sex with his brother. On her desk. At work.
She sank into her chair and pressed her hands to her face.
She was so confused. She felt as though she’d been careening from one disaster to the next since she’d met Jon. He’d thrown her off balance from that first day and she’d never recovered her equilibrium. He’d forced her to take an honest look at herself…at her life. She’d revealed her secrets to him. And now she’d had sex with him.
She remained there for long minutes, her thoughts whirling, her stomach churning. The press of a growing headache finally forced her to move. She collected her bag, turned off the light. Feeling ridiculously fragile for a woman who had tried to take a chunk out of a man’s shoulder, she did a circuit of the building, flicking off lights and checking that the machinery was all shut down. She punched the code into the keypad, then slipped out the door with the ease of long practice. It was only when she turned to walk to her car that she realized there was a second car in the parking lot.
Jon’s black truck was in the far corner. The windows were dark, but she could feel him watching her. After a small hesitation she walked to her hatchback. She got in, started the engine. She turned her lights on, but didn’t pull out. After a few seconds, Jon’s lights came on and he drove away.
He’d waited fo
r her. Even though she’d told him to go. Even though this whole thing had started over her refusing to allow him to take responsibility for her.
He’d sat in the dark to ensure she was safe.
She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry, to be angry or touched. Apparently she was all about not knowing these days. Apparently that was her thing.
She drove home, thoughts still churning. She didn’t bother turning any lights on when she let herself into her apartment, walking straight to her ensuite. She turned the shower on while she shed her clothes, then stepped beneath the spray.
Needles of hot water pricked her skin. She reached for the soap and washed her breasts and belly and finally between her legs, trying to ignore the residual sensation there. It wasn’t until she stepped out and flicked on the overhead light to locate her toothbrush that she saw her body in the mirror. She gasped, her hands going to her chest.
A red suck mark marred her left breast, and another marked the skin beneath her ear on the right. Her face was pink from whisker burn, and when she turned she saw five small, distinct bruises across her backside where Jon had lifted her against him.
She should have been shocked, but she wasn’t. Instead, something inside her relaxed. What had happened—whatever it was—had been mutual. They’d both been caught up and crazy.
She wasn’t sure why it made her feel better, but it did. Which went to show how messed up she really was.
CHAPTER SEVEN
JON PICKED UP THE PHONE, THEN put it down. He paced to the balcony, then back to the kitchen counter. Picked up the phone. Looked at the keypad. Put it down again.
He’d been caught in the same loop since he’d arrived home. He couldn’t call Gabby—she didn’t want to talk to him—but he couldn’t stop thinking about her, about what had happened.
Even if she did take his call, he had no idea what he would say to her.
Sorry for assaulting you and throwing you on your desk and having dirty, rough sex with you?
Yeah, that would fix everything.
He dragged his hand over his face.
One Good Reason Page 11