The Buckhorn Brothers Collection Volume 2

by Lori Foster

  But tonight Ben had other things on his mind, and rightfully so. Tonight it was his dream on the line. But at the very least, she could help him relax a little.

  She pulled him through the apartment and didn’t stop until they reached the foot of the bed. Her fingers made quick work of his belt buckle. She undid the button on his jeans, and pulled his zipper down slowly.

  “And now I want to make sure that you’re having a good day, too. How does that sound?” Maintaining eye contact, she lowered herself to her knees in front of him.

  “That sounds incredible,” he managed to answer. His eyes never left hers, and Chloe loved the intensity of his gaze as she drove him to the edge. She dragged his jeans down his thighs, revealing his straining muscles and white boxer-briefs. “Is this for me?” she asked, running her finger along the length of his very impressive bulge, and Ben made a strangled sound in his throat.

  He had such a beautiful body, and she wanted to see more of it. “Take off your shirt.”

  He obliged, shedding his white T-shirt in a matter of seconds. His entire torso was so damn incredible; she couldn’t help but lean forward and press a kiss to his stomach, and his hips jerked in frustration.

  “You’re killing me, Chloe.” His voice was strained, rough, and she loved that he loved what she was doing to him. It turned her on.

  She took pity on him, divesting him of his underwear so that he stood naked and proud. With a Cheshire smile, she leaned forward and ran her tongue along the length of his shaft. His groan of pleasure made her stomach clench.

  “More. Please. Don’t stop.”

  She held the base of his cock, her lips engulfing the tip, pausing for a moment before she took as much of him as she could handle into her mouth. She sucked her way back up to the top before lowering her head again, this time taking him so deep her lips touched her hand.

  “That feels amazing.” Ben curled one big hand into her hair, but he let her set the rhythm. She read the reactions of his body, speeding up and slowing down in response to his groans and the slight undulation of his hips.

  “Chloe, I’m—I can’t hold back much longer.”

  She engulfed the length of him one final time, working her way back to the tip slowly and with more pressure. His hand tightened in her hair. She released his cock, staring up at him to find his head back and his eyes closed, his muscles straining. With a satisfied smile, Chloe got to her feet.

  “Did you like that?” she asked, because she needed to hear him say it.

  He opened his eyes, let go of her hair and put his hand to her cheek. “It was amazing.” He caught her mouth in a rough kiss that reminded her that she wasn’t nearly done with him.

  “Well, there’s more where that came from,” she promised. “Just lie back and let me do all the work.”

  “How can I say no to that?” He climbed onto the mattress and lay against the pillows. She could feel his eyes on her as she peeled off her clothes, dropping them piece by piece.

  She crawled onto the mattress and inched toward him, planting one hand on his chest and squeezing his hips between her thighs as she straddled him. Then she reached between them and guided him inside her, right where she ached to feel him most. She loved the way he filled her. And then, staring into his eyes, she began to move.

  * * *

  HELL, YES. THERE WEREN’T enough curse words to accurately express just how blown his mind was at this point. Chloe had driven him wild with her mouth, and now, watching her use him for her own pleasure, feeling her tight, slick heat consuming him, well, he could get used to this kind of torture.

  He loved the way her breath caught in her throat when she rubbed against him just the right way. Hell, he loved it all; the bounce of her breasts, the undulation of her body as she rode him, it was so damn erotic.

  “Chloe, tell me how good it feels for you.”

  “So good,” she breathed. She planted both hands on his chest and began rocking back and forth, and the change in pace swamped him with unexpected pleasure. He drove his hips upward, trying to get higher, deeper inside her, and she shuddered.

  “Oh, my God, Ben. Do that again,” she begged, and he was powerless to disobey. Grabbing her by the hips, he pressed his thumbs into the bird tattoos at her hips and drove himself high inside her once, twice. Then she cried out, her muscles contracting around him, and he let himself drown in a sweet, hot wave of ecstasy.

  * * *

  CHLOE SNUGGLED CLOSER to his big body, deliciously spent, and was just nodding off when the screech of the smoke detector startled them both out of their dreamy haze.

  “Oh, shit! The chicken!”

  Ben was out of bed and into his boxers so fast that Chloe barely had enough time to register what was happening. She pulled on his discarded T-shirt and rushed toward the kitchen, only to be greeted with a smoky haze.

  “Get the door,” he ordered, and she rushed over to pull open the sliding glass door of the balcony so Ben, clad in boxers and oven mitts, could take the charred, smoldering mess outside and place it on the patio table.

  He stormed back into the condo, disappearing around the corner into the hallway, and a moment later, the shrill beeping of the smoke detector went silent.

  Chloe opened the window in the dining area as well to help clear the smoke.

  “What the hell am I going to do now? They’re going to be here in,” he glanced at the clock on the wall and then turned a ghostly shade of pale, “forty minutes! I can’t believe this happened. I was supposed to reduce the heat for the last hour. You shouldn’t have distracted me.”

  “You weren’t complaining a minute ago,” she reminded him archly.

  “I don’t have time for jokes right now. I need this dinner to go well. I need this promotion,” he reminded her. “This is my whole life on the line!”

  “It’s not your whole life. It’s only money.”

  “Easy for you to say. You grew up with enough of it.”

  “Ben, come on. This doesn’t matter that much! Don’t you see that? They don’t care about you or the damn burnt chicken! It’s a game, Ben, just like when Burke showed up for breakfast. You should realize that, but you’re too blinded by this never-ending quest for power and status! Do you think that’s really what your father wanted for you? “

  “You’re going to lecture me about success?” Ben raked a hand through his hair. “You’re telling me you dropped out of law school to sell makeup at the mall? I don’t buy it, Chloe! You’re sitting on your dream job but you’re too damn scared to pull the trigger!”

  “This isn’t about me, Ben. It’s about you. I grew up with a father who prioritized money over everything else. Your dad was not that guy. He might have stood out there on the lake, spinning tales with you about fishing from the balcony of that cabin, but you missed the point of the story. He didn’t need the cabin, because he already had what he wanted—he was already out there fishing with you.”

  Chloe shook her head, willing him to understand that she was on his side. She loved him and she wanted what was best for him. “I know everything you do is to make him proud—the truck you drive, the promotion you’re after, the cabin you want to buy. You work long hours at a job that I’m not even sure you like. Do you honestly believe that’s how the man in those photos would define success? Eighty-hour work weeks? A cookie-cutter show home but no one to share it with? No family of your own?”

  A muscle ticked in Ben’s jaw, and he got eerily calm. “Don’t you dare stand there and act as if you know what my father would have wanted because you’ve looked at a couple of pictures.” His words were a whip crack. Then he turned and stalked toward the bedroom, slamming the door in his wake.

  Chloe stood there for a long moment, saddened that the Ben she’d met in Buffalo, the one she’d glimpsed the other night at Oz’s house, the one she was sure his
father would have been proud of, was slowly disappearing.

  She was tempted to leave. Every muscle in her body was straining toward the door, but the ring on her finger was a stronger pull. She’d promised when she’d taken it from Ben that there would be no running this time. And she was going to be true to her word, because she was done with letting herself down.

  She walked over to where her purse sat on the coffee table and pulled out her phone. She punched in the familiar number and brought it to her ear.

  “Hey, Josh, it’s me. Is Chad working tonight?…Great. Do you think you could call him and put in an order for six people?…Um, let’s go with beef and chicken…Yes… Yep. And if he could whip up some of that incredible mushroom risotto of his…You know it. He can toss in two bottles of wine with that order as well, right?…And they deliver?…Oh, you will? Josh, you’re the best! If you weren’t gay I’d kiss you like I meant it. I’ll text you the address. Seven o’clock would be perfect.”

  She rooted around in her bag until she located the book of matches that she carried for just such emergencies. With a steady hand, she lit the four vanilla-scented pillar candles she’d brought from her place the other day, and placed them strategically around the living room to help dissipate the smoky smell.

  Then she grabbed her heels and dress from the front closet and headed toward the bathroom to change. She hooked her pearls around her neck as a final touch.

  Then she returned to the living room to join Ben in stony silence as they waited for their guests to arrive.

  CHAPTER 15

  BEN SWEPT THE door open to greet their visitors and Chloe plastered on her most gracious smile, ignoring the roiling in the pit of her stomach.

  “Mr. McLeod, welcome.” Ben shook the hand of a small man who Chloe would have mistaken for a funeral home director, if she’d guessed his profession on a plane. “Let me take your coat. This is my wife, Chloe.”

  His hand felt cold and dead in hers.

  Ben had moved on to McLeod’s wife. “Martine, you look lovely.” He exchanged air kisses with a bony woman who proceeded to give Chloe a stern once-over and a weak handshake. Chloe could tell immediately that the McLeods were already not taken with her.

  “Mr. Carson. Thank you for coming.” The other boss. Used-car salesman-esque, with a big grin and a bigger gut. He used Chloe’s hand like a pump handle and then ignored her completely.

  Ben finished hanging their coats. “Sir, where’s your lovely wife—Mel! What are you doing here?”

  The sudden panic in Ben’s voice drew Chloe’s attention just as a beautiful blonde, looking impeccable in a trench coat, pumps and a wrap-dress, stepped into the condo. “Hello, Ben. It’s been a while.”

  “I thought Elaine was coming?” Ben sounded a little gob-smacked, and was about two shades paler than he had been a moment ago.

  “Mother was feeling a little under the weather today, so I offered to take her place.”

  “Just you? Where’s your husband?” he asked, and Chloe was intrigued by the way Ben’s voice hardened a little.

  “Richard had a prior obligation.” She smiled then, but it was cold. The other woman shrugged out of her jacket and handed it to Ben, but her eyes were on Chloe. “And speaking of significant others, aren’t you going to introduce me to your wife?”

  “Yes, of course.” Ben slid the closet shut before stepping toward her. “Melanie, I’d like you to meet Chloe Masterson.”

  Chloe’s heart stuttered.

  Melanie.

  Of course. Ben’s fiancée. Well, ex-fiancée, but at least she’d been a real one at some point. Chloe unconsciously twisted the ring on her finger. Until she noticed Melanie’s icy blue gaze on it.

  “Melanie, nice to meet you,” she said, remembering her manners.

  “And you.” The handshake was tense and appraising. Their pretty guest took a step toward the living room. “The place looks great. So different from your last condo.”

  Melanie’s eyes cut to hers. Her ploy was obvious, but it still rankled.

  “How about a tour?”

  Melanie’s question sounded sickly sweet to Chloe’s ears, and she realized in that moment that if she didn’t take control of this godforsaken party right then, it was going to spiral to its doom.

  “What a lovely idea. Ben, why don’t you show everyone around? I’m sure they’d love to see the place while we wait for dinner. But first, can I offer anyone an aperitif? I’ve got a lovely white chilling.”

  She’d caught the McLeods by surprise. She could see them reassessing her. Carson perked up at the mention of booze. “I’ll take one!”

  And Melanie, well, she was not impressed that Chloe had invited others to her private tour. Chloe smiled as she went back to the kitchen to pour. Maybe this wasn’t going to be such a train wreck after all.

  Chloe returned with a tray of wine, offering Martine and Melanie first selection, followed by McLeod and Carson.

  “So I gotta ask, Chloe. What’s with the hair? Couldn’t afford the whole bottle of dye?” The big man’s guffaws filled the condo. “Joking! I’m joking!”

  Chloe bit back a hundred insults, laughing good-naturedly at the petty swipe. “Why, Mr. Carson. I would think a titan of the advertising world such as yourself would understand the value of standing out in a crowd,” she chided.

  The room went dead silent for a moment. Then Carson began to grin. “Touché. Spitfire you got here, Masterson. I like her moxie.”

  He took a big gulp of the expensive wine and Chloe let the last vestiges of nervousness slip away. She offered the last glass of wine on the tray to Ben, and when he accepted it, he was looking at her in a way he never had before.

  * * *

  “THE APARTMENT LOOKS LOVELY, Ben. Who’s your decorator?”

  They’d finished the brief tour, and dinner had arrived. The guy from the makeup store—Josh—was in the kitchen right now, transferring all the takeout from foam containers into real dishes. Ben had no idea when Chloe had arranged all that, and he couldn’t ask her because right now she and Martine, an avid symphony fan, were discussing the classical music Chloe had turned on while he’d been showing everyone around the condo.

  He wasn’t quite sure how his “wife” had managed it, but things were going pretty well. Which was good, but it paled in comparison to how relieved he was that she hadn’t up and walked out on him earlier.

  “Ben?”

  He started at the sound of Mel’s voice. He’d forgotten she was there for a moment. “Is your mother really sick?”

  Mel set the picture of him and his dad back on the bookshelf. “If I didn’t know better, I might think you weren’t happy to see me.”

  The evasion was classic Melanie, and he had his answer: Elaine was in perfect health.

  She moved toward him, and he automatically stepped back.

  “Has it come to that?” she asked quietly.

  Ben wet his lips as she raised her hand to smooth the lapel of his Armani blazer. His gaze slipped to the gleaming diamonds that decorated her left ring finger, so different than the ring he’d offered her.

  He’d met her during his second week with Carson and McLeod. She’d made fun of his suit—it had cost him five hundred dollars, which was the most he’d ever spent on an item of clothing in his life. The gibes had been the first salvos in a courtship that, in retrospect, had consisted of Ben doing his very best to impress her and Melanie remaining dutifully unimpressed to ensure he would continue to try.

  Today, for the first time since he’d met her, he didn’t care what she thought. The realization was freeing.

  “You slowpokes comin’ for dinner? We’re starving over here!”

  The smile Mel shot him was almost regretful, but he wasn’t sure why. “Coming, Daddy.”

  They settled into t
he business and the dinner immediately, with Carson and McLeod tag-teaming him with questions that were designed to figure out where he stood on issues the firm was facing. Every once in a while he was able to take a bite of incredible food, from beef bourguignon to mushroom risotto.

  They didn’t ask him anything he wasn’t expecting, which meant that in between the “Yes, Mr. Carson, I definitely think that the A/B testing warrants a re-evaluation of Sports Nation’s decision to rebrand,” and the “No, Mr. McLeod, the mock-ups for the Delaney account won’t be ready in time for the general meeting,” Ben had enough focus left over to monitor how things were going at the other end of the table.

  Which was not well.

  * * *

  “THE FOOD IS EXQUISITE, my dear,” Mrs. McLeod complimented, and Chloe was thankful that she was friends with someone as talented as Chad in the kitchen. Otherwise they’d be having pepperoni pizza or Chinese takeout.

  “I’d love to take credit for it, but who has time to cook?”

  It was a standard joke amongst ladies who lunched, and Martine smiled knowingly—the acceptable response—but it seemed Melanie wasn’t here to play nice.

  “What is it that you do again?”

  Chloe raised her eyebrows at the violation of manners. “I’m sorry?”

  “Well, you implied you don’t have time to cook. I was just wondering what it was that took up so much of your day,” Melanie asked.

  “Actually, I—”

  “Chloe is an incredible makeup artist,” Ben interrupted, and Chloe clenched her hands into fists in an attempt to keep calm. A lady did not show emotion in public. A fact for which Ben should be ever-freaking-grateful for right about now.

  “She’s got a growing following on YouTube and she’s poised to create a big splash in the industry.”