Not Until You Part I

by Roni Loren

The silent admission and ensuing bashfulness were like strokes to Foster’s cock, oil on a fire he was trying to tame. This girl may be inexperienced, but she was brave—bold in a way that had him getting surprised at every turn. And it’d been a helluva long time since anyone had surprised him. He leaned forward in his seat. Like a predator scenting blood in the water, the dominance rose in him, locked her in its sights.

  “Cela.”

  She put her hand over her face, shaking her head. “Let’s just go to the next turn. Please.”

  “Look at me, Cela,” he commanded, his tone harsh.

  Her attention snapped his way, as if she couldn’t stop herself from obeying.

  He held her eye contact and slowly drained his own shot.

  Poured another, drank again.

  Then another, drank again. “I could keep going.”

  In Foster’s peripheral vision, Pike gave a slow, satisfied grin. “Honesty. I like it.”

  Cela’s throat worked as she swallowed hard, her lips parted, closed, opened again as if she had words to say but couldn’t pick which ones.

  “Tell me what’s going on in that head of yours,” Foster said, keeping his voice even. “You don’t need to be afraid to say what you’re thinking.”

  She licked her lips, the pulse at her throat visibly jumping. “First, I need to know what this is—tonight.”

  Pike angled toward her on the couch. “We told you, doc. It’s your night to have a good time, whatever that may be.”

  She looked to Pike, then back to Foster and lifted her hand to the neckline of her dress. Her fingers dipped underneath the material and moved along her sweat-dampened skin, riveting Foster’s gaze. She pulled a small square of paper out.

  “What’s that?” Pike asked.

  “In less than a month, I’ll be back in the small town I grew up in. Everything there is planned out for me in a nice, neat path. The job I’ve always known I’d have, the guy I’m supposed to date, the place I’m going to live.”

  She hesitated and stared down at the paper, her thumb rubbing across the smooth white surface over and over again. Pike put a palm to her back, a gentle grounding touch that seemed to replenish Cela’s resolve. She gave them both a wavering half smile before continuing.

  “I’ve lived my whole life working toward exactly that goal. It’s what I’ve wanted for so long. But I realized tonight that I’ve missed out on a lot of experiences that weren’t bullet points in the plan. I don’t want to go back home with a Never Have I Ever list a mile long.” She set the square of paper on the table, let her fingers linger on top of it for a moment, and then pushed it toward the center. “And I was hoping you two might help me scratch some things off the list.”

  Foster’s attention zeroed in on the note, his heartbeat climbing up a notch.

  “Whoa,” Pike said, her declaration apparently stunning the nothing-shocks-me musician.

  Before Pike could take the liberty, Foster reached out and laid his palm over the small square, the paper slightly damp from being against Cela’s bare skin. He resisted the urge to bring it to his nose and inhale.

  “That is,” she rushed on, her eyes darting toward Foster’s grip on her note. “If y’all are, you know, really interested in me or whatever but if not . . .”

  “Shh . . .” Pike said, pressing his fingers against her lips. “Doc, if what’s on that sheet has anything to do with getting to touch you again, I have no doubt we’ll be all for it.”

  Foster lifted the paper, unfolded it carefully, and stared down at the neat, bulleted list Cela had written on half a notebook page.

  Never Have I Ever . . .

  Broken the rules.

  Had a one-night stand.

  Lived out a fantasy.

  Slept with the hot neighbors I’ve been crushing on for a year.

  Lost control.

  But I want to . . .

  The paper crinkled beneath Foster’s fingertips as all sights and sounds around him seemed to fade, the words on the page nearly glowing at him. But I want to . . . He looked up at Cela, the vulnerable expression on her face reminding him of her youth, her innocence. But his stampeding libido trampled over those concerns, his cock hardening past the point of maybe. Yes, she was sweet. Inexperienced.

  But the woman who wrote this list knew what she wanted, what she craved.

  And he’d be damned if he was going to let someone else give it to her.

  If Cela wanted to lose control with someone, he knew the guys for the task.

  He stood, tucking the note in his pocket, and holding out a hand. “I think we’re done dancing.”

  * * *

  My heart was pounding hard enough to make my chest hurt, and a fine sheen of sweat had gathered on my neck, but I managed to get to my feet and take Foster’s offered hand. This is what I had wanted when I’d knocked on their door tonight. Wanton abandon. A departure from all that my predictable life normally was.

  But now that I was standing with my toes peeking over the edge of the precipice, preparing to leap, the ingrained voice of my father was firing in my head like a machine gun. What are you doing? You don’t know these men. You’re not this kind of girl. What would people say?

  And the ever popular, Don’t shame the family.

  My father had used that one ad nauseam throughout my childhood. My older sister, Luz, had fallen into the wrong crowd in high school, had a boyfriend who’d stolen from people in town, and had gotten pregnant at sixteen. The taint of that had hung over us for years, even after my father had sent Luz away, disowning her after she terminated the pregnancy. So with my oldest brother away in the military and Luz gone, it had been left to me and Andre to prove that “those Medina kids” weren’t all bad.

  Be a good girl or you won’t be part of this family anymore. My father had never stated it that way, but the sentiment had hung in the household like a stench you couldn’t air out. And now here I was putting myself into the hands of two men, giving them a laundry list of sins I’d like to commit.

  Foster’s fingers laced with mine, and he pulled me closer to him, dragging me from my swirling thoughts. He brushed my hair away from my face and graced me with a smile that sent warmth bleeding through me. “You’re panicking already, angel. Don’t. There’s no need.”

  The endearment and soft tone were like soothing strokes to my climbing anxiety. He probably called girls angel all the time. I wasn’t under the delusion that I was any different than the women I’d heard in their apartment over the last two years. But something about the way he said it, the reverence in it, made me want to curl into him, to block out the harsh voice in my head.

  “Is it okay that I’m a little scared?” I asked, offering my own attempt at a smile.

  He cradled my face, his blue eyes seeming to read me as if every emotion were printed in permanent marker on my forehead. “It’s all right to be scared of the unknown, to be nervous about exploring things you’ve only thought about in private moments. But you don’t have to be scared of us.”

  Pike stepped up behind Foster. “He’s right, doc.”

  “But I have no idea what I’m doing. I want this, but I know I’m in over my head,” I said, the men’s stark gazes pulling blatant honesty out of me.

  Foster chuckled. “Lucky for you, there isn’t anything I like more than being in charge and giving directions.”

  Pike smirked. “No truer words have ever been spoken.”

  “Come on.” Foster’s grip tightened on my fingers, and Pike came around to flank my opposite side, grabbing my other hand. “Your only instruction for tonight is going to be an easy one to follow.”

  One instruction? My mind flipped through possible scenarios like a day calendar in a wind gust as Foster and Pike led me down the stairs and through the crowd on the bottom floor. What would they expect from me? What if they asked me to do something
I couldn’t handle or didn’t know how to do? What if they laughed at me like the frat guy had my sophomore year?

  Pike retrieved my purse from the coat check stand, and by the time the three of us finally pushed through the doors and the night air hit us, my nerves were gnawing at me, chewing through my resolve. I glanced back and forth between the two guys, but neither was giving anything away.

  The valet hailed a cab and Pike climbed in. I peeked over at Foster, gathering courage. “Can I ask what my one instruction is going to be?”

  He grinned and pressed his lips against my ear as he guided me toward the cab. “To show us exactly how much pleasure you can take before you beg us to stop.”

  “Oh,” I whispered, my insides liquefying.

  He slid into the cab next to me, pressing me against Pike. Pike draped his arm around me, and Foster laid a hand along my exposed thigh.

  “The Hotel St. Mark, please,” Foster said to the driver.

  “Hotel?” I asked.

  He traced a small, sensuous circle along my inner thigh, making me think of gentle tongues and nips of teeth moving higher. My sex clenched.

  “Wouldn’t want to wake the neighbors.”

  Read more of Cela and Foster’s red-hot romance in

  Part II of NOT UNTIL YOU

  NOT UNTIL YOU RISK

  Available from InterMix on June 18, 2013

  Keep reading for a special preview of the next book in

  Roni Loren’s Loving on the Edge series

  CAUGHT UP IN YOU

  Available August 2013 from Berkley Heat

  “You know, picturing someone naked this early in the morning isn’t good for your health.”

  Kelsey LeBreck leaned forward to get a better view through the kitchen’s pass-through, smirking at Nathan’s jab but not tearing her gaze away from her subject. “Hush and keep flipping his eggs.”

  But of course her co-worker ignored that command. “I mean, think how long you’ll have to wait before you can get home to your vibrator and imagine Mr. Tall, Dark, and Loaded rocking your world. You’re going to be so pent up and distracted, you’ll screw up everyone’s order.”

  “I do that anyway.” Except his. Never his. Though, that wasn’t really an accomplishment being that he always ordered the same thing.

  “Yet you still get better tips than Chandra.”

  “I’m charming that way.” And desperate. When that tip meant the difference between being able to pay for a tank of gas instead of riding the bus, she could channel so much sunshine and sweetness, even the grumpiest customer couldn’t be mad at her for long.

  “Are the muffins ready to go in yet? Darryl’s going to be here any minute and you know how he gets if shit is late.”

  “Working on it.” Kelsey blindly stirred her muffin batter as she watched Wyatt Austin adjust his glasses, fold his newspaper just so, and then spread out a stack of documents on the table in front of him. He had a way of moving that was somehow graceful and efficient all at once. Like he’d figured out the most streamlined way to do each and every thing so that he could fit the maximum amount of work into every minute of the day.

  And maybe he had. God knows his schedule was more predictable than the sunrise. At six fifteen every weekday morning, he would walk in the cafe with his newspaper tucked under his arm and his own travel mug of coffee. He’d sit at the same table in the far corner, the one that provided him both a view of the television on the wall and the least amount of glare for his laptop screen. She knew that only because she’d finally asked him one day why he chose that booth all the time. When she’d joked that he sat there because it was her section, he’d just offered that enigmatic smile of his—one that had promptly made her forget the last order she’d taken from the table before him.

  “You need to stop torturing yourself,” Nathan said from behind her, the sizzle of the griddle playing soundtrack in the background. “From what I’ve heard, the suit doesn’t date. And he’s not gay either. Believe me, I’d be the one serving him eggs and sausage if he were.”

  She snorted and finally looked back at Nathan. “Sausage? You’re going with that one, really?”

  He held his arms out to his side and gave her a come-on-how-could-I-pass-that-up? look.

  “How do you even know this stuff? And you with the fetish for skater boys would go after Wyatt Austin, CEO-in-training? Please.”

  “I love the shit out of that strong, silent type. They’re usually crazy good in the sack. Like they’re saving up all that intensity just for you.” He shrugged and turned over a row of bacon with his spatula. “And money never hurt anybody. I’m not above being a kept man.”

  “You’re a top.”

  “And so are you, baby girl. But that hasn’t stopped you from your mad, passionate love affair with Mr. In Charge.”

  She sighed and turned back to her batter, grabbing a ladle so she could scoop it into the muffin tins. It was a mad, passionate love affair. He was the absolute perfect boyfriend for her right now. Delicious to look at, panty dampening to fantasize about, and completely and utterly unattainable.

  Nathan set a plate next to her and slid the egg white omelet and two slices of turkey bacon onto it. “Order up. Now if you’re not going to give up on this crush, why don’t you take this plate over there and ask the guy out?”

  She spun to face him, muffin tray in her hand. “Did you forget to take your meds today? I’m a waitress and wannabe baker. His family owns an entire company.”

  “So the fuck what? He has more money than you. Big deal. Doesn’t mean he’s better than you. In fact, he’d be a damn lucky bastard to get a date with you. Hell, I’d take you out just to get these secret muffin recipes of yours.”

  She handed the pan to him, picked up Wyatt’s plate, and kissed Nathan’s cheek. “Thanks, hon. But if I’ve learned one lesson in life, it’s that fantasy is always better than reality.”

  He gave her a sly smile. “But fantasy can’t have breakfast in bed with you the next morning.”

  No. But it also couldn’t break your heart.

  Or break her.

  Kelsey turned on her heel and pushed through the kitchen’s swinging door. Time to serve breakfast to her imaginary boyfriend.

  * * *

  Wyatt sipped his coffee and flipped through the reports he’d printed out last night. The profit margin was still in decent shape, but their client numbers had suffered a significant dip over the last two quarters. Their competitors Merrill and Mead were doing some mighty fast talking and had stolen two of Austin and Associates’ top clients—two clients whom Wyatt had been making a shitload of money for. So God only knows what Tony Merrill had promised them to get them to leave. Or maybe Merrill was outright spewing lies about A&A. That’d be his style. The whole thing was giving Wyatt a twitch and a headache.

  “Egg white omelet with spinach and cheddar and two slices of turkey bacon, extra crispy.”

  Wyatt looked up from the papers, momentarily startled at the interruption. Damn. Usually he made a point to watch Kelsey’s swaying walk over to his table and had a pang of disappointment over missing the morning highlight. That walk and smile were a big part of the reason he’d started driving four blocks past his building to eat breakfast at the Sugarcane Cafe.

  His brother, Jace, had introduced him to the place and to Kelsey a few months ago, and Wyatt hadn’t been able resist the temptation of being served by her each morning ever since. The woman could make that retro blue-and-white diner uniform look as sexy as high-end lingerie—not that it had stopped him from picturing her in the latter anyway. “Thank you, Kelsey. This looks great.”

  “My pleasure. Anything else I can get you, Mr. Austin?” She smiled with a head tilt that made her blond ponytail swing behind her.

  He’d imagined very, very naughty things involving that ponytail one too many times. Cool it, Austin. “Tell me
about the muffin du jour.”

  She leaned over and grabbed the discarded sweetener packets he’d used in his coffee, inadvertently giving him a glimpse of the golden curved flesh peeking through the collar of her shirt. “Of course. Thinking of breaking tradition and ordering one today?”

  He raised an eyebrow.

  She shook her head, but there was humor glinting in those blue eyes. “It’s fresh raspberry made with a touch of vanilla and a citrus-infused simple syrup poured over the top to make them extra moist and tart.”

  “Sounds delicious.”

  “But you don’t want one,” she said, confirming his standard answer before he could give it. “You know one day I’m going to bake one that sounds so enticing, you’re not going to be able to help yourself.”

  “Is that right?” he asked, fighting a smile. Truth was, he didn’t eat sweets that often. He kept his diet as regimented as his schedule. Discipline in all things. But he loved hearing her describe her food and watching the pure pride that starched her shoulders and brightened her eyes.

  “Yep. It’s a personal mission of mine,” she said resolutely, her hand on her hip.

  “What is?” he asked, leaning forward onto his forearms, holding her gaze. “To tempt me?”

  Her eyes held his for a long beat before they shifted away. She pressed her lips together, smoothing her gloss. “Um . . .”

  He realized too late how low his words had come out, how laced with innuendo. He quickly straightened in his seat, dragging his attention back to his work in front of him. Too young. Too sweet. Too messy. “Bring me one of those muffins, Kelsey.”

  There was dead air for a moment, as if she were righting her thoughts, then she said, “Oh, of course. Right away, sir.”

  But when she turned on her heel to go, a soft curse passed her lips. She spun back around, and he looked up to find her wearing a please-don’t-hate-me expression. “What’s wrong?”

  She peeked back toward the kitchen. “I forgot. They won’t be ready for another fifteen minutes. I got in a little late from my overnight job and didn’t get them started on time.”