Bad

by Nicola Marsh

  Her smug little smile indicated they were off to a good start.

  He focused on her right foot first. Long, firm strokes. Pulling on her toes. Tracing her arch. Making her squirm. Before lavishing the same on her left foot.

  She made the cutest noises, half way between a groan and a grunt. And with her eyes half-closed, the lids heavy with passion, it took every ounce of willpower for Wyatt to stop at touching her feet.

  "That feels so good…ooooh…" She actually lifted her pelvis off the couch a tad as he squeezed the base of her Achilles tendon and his cock throbbed in response.

  "Imagine how my hands will feel all over your body." With that, he released her feet, pushed them off his lap and stood. "Goodnight."

  He didn't dare look back, because if he saw a glimpse of her wanting him as badly as he wanted her, he wouldn't be able to stick to his plan of taking things slow.

  Damn, logic was a bitch sometimes.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Ashlin hadn't slept.

  At all.

  Thanks to that bloody Wyatt, who'd left her wanting more.

  She knew it was a good thing. Her feeling anything more than disinterest when a guy touched her. But Wyatt's foot massage shouldn't have felt so sexual. Yet it had. Which begged the question, what had changed?

  Was it a simple matter of logistics; it had been so long since she'd had an orgasm with a guy that any touch would do?

  She doubted it. She'd never been short of offers to scratch that proverbial itch over the years but with those guys they'd never passed first base because she hadn't felt anything.

  With Wyatt, she felt everything. Too much. Too soon. And it was oh too tempting. She'd wanted to take it further last night. Had wanted him to slide those strong, masterful hands up her calves, along her thighs and higher, assuaging the throb that persisted long into the night.

  But she'd been scared. Terrified, in fact, that she'd freeze up like she usually did when anyone other than herself got in the vicinity. She could masturbate to orgasm but if the guys she’d kissed groped the area, nothing. Not that the orgasms she gave herself could be counted as anything less than serviceable. She got off. Barely. Felt a little zing, released tension. Similar to drinking a virgin margarita: quenched thirst without the buzz.

  She hadn't got herself off last night because she wanted to savor the feelings Wyatt had elicited. Had wanted to remember them for whenever he took things further. And he would. She had no doubt.

  He'd played it just right, leaving her wanting and yearning.

  And anticipating what he'd come up with next.

  "Good morning." He came up behind her and brushed a soft kiss beneath her ear.

  "Is it?" She squealed as he nipped the skin at the base of her neck. "Okay, it is."

  "So you're not in a snit after I left you hanging last night?" He perched on the verandah railing, looking incredibly delectable in khaki cargo shorts and a white T. "Because you realize it's for the greater good?"

  "I'm not a complete moron," she said, wondering if she should be annoyed by his smugness but deciding it wasn't worth the effort.

  She'd come clean about her frigidity last night. She couldn’t hide behind coyness now. Too late for that.

  "You enjoyed the foot massage?"

  "You know I did." To her surprise, heat flooded her cheeks. Way too late for blushes too.

  "Good, because there's more where that came from." He slid off the railing and held out his hand to her. "Fancy a walk along the bayou, followed by beignets and cafe au lait?"

  "Now you're really upping the torture." She slid her hand into his, loving how right it felt. "I'd do anything for a beignet."

  "Anything?" His low, suggestive tone sent a sizzle of heat through her.

  "Try me and find out."

  He ducked down to whisper in her ear. "I intend to, and guaranteed I won't need a beignet to do it."

  That damn heat zeroed in on the one area that surprisingly responded to him and made her ache with wanting to head back inside and let him try her out for real.

  "Come on, I'm starving." She bumped him with her hip and he jostled her back.

  And they kept up the playfulness as they strolled along the banks of the bayou bordering his property. A pinch here. A swat on the ass there. And lots of loaded glances that threatened to scorch her clothes off.

  By the time they made it to the tiny corner store, Ashlin wanted to forego the beignets in favor of a quickie in the nearby marshland.

  "Here, you'll need sustenance." He handed her a beignet warm from the oven and a coffee.

  "For?"

  "To keep up your strength, of course." He raised his coffee cup to her. "I plan on driving you to the brink repeatedly over the next two weeks."

  She swallowed her coffee so fast it burned her throat. "You sure know how to get a girl all hot and bothered."

  "That's the idea, sweetheart." His lips grazed hers. Once. Twice. Before his tongue tangled with hers all too briefly. He tasted of sugar and cinnamon and coffee, three of her favorite things.

  When he eased away, she practically swooned. Slightly embarrassed by her over the top reaction to him, she took a massive bite out of a beignet. And almost swooned again.

  "That good, huh?"

  "Heaven," she mumbled, devouring the rest while he looked on with a bemused grin.

  "Sweetheart, if I can put the same kind of expression on your face as that pastry just did, I'll be a happy man indeed." He tapped the end of her nose. "Icing sugar right here."

  "You've got some on your lip." She hauled him close and ran her tongue along his bottom lip, enjoying his sharp intake of breath. Glad she wasn't the only one affected by their flirting.

  "You know you're killing me, right?" He lobbed his coffee cup in the trash and dusted off his hands.

  "You're the one who wants to take things real slow."

  "For your benefit."

  "That's right." She snapped her fingers. "There's a flaw in your dastardly plan."

  "What?"

  "In driving me insane with longing, you're going to do the same to yourself."

  With that, she slapped him on the ass and sauntered away, whistling a sultry dance tune and grinning as she heard a frustrated growl behind her.

  Ashlin slept the whole way back to Vegas and Wyatt was glad.

  Keeping up the banter was exhausting.

  Not because he didn't enjoy it. He did. But having Ashlin constantly touch him, albeit playfully, and stare at him, and smile at him…well, he was having a damn hard time focusing on the logic of his dumbass plan.

  He wanted her with a ferocity that scared the hell out of him. He fantasized constantly: what she'd look like naked. Would her bush be as red as her hair? Would her nipples be pink or brown? Would she be as flexible as he hoped because of her job? It was driving him frigging nuts.

  So he'd been a chicken-shit and dropped her at Burlesque Bombshells when she'd cited some rehearsal issue, and had hightailed it to Zane's hotel. Another dumbass move, considering his half-brother had moved out of his suite and into Chantal's apartment last week.

  However, just as he put the hire car back into gear, Steele stepped out of the foyer and waved.

  Wyatt hesitated. He barely knew the guy and while Steele had given him some good advice regarding Ashlin, he wasn't up for discussing everything that had gone down over the weekend with a virtual stranger.

  But then he glimpsed Steele's crestfallen expression and guilt kicked in. The guy had flown half way around the world, would be gone in a month and it wasn't Steele's fault that his half-brother feared socializing.

  Wyatt pulled over and got out. "Hey. What are you up to?"

  "Going for a walk." Steele sauntered over, like nothing fazed him. But Wyatt saw the restrained energy in his posture, in the set of his shoulders. Steele would be a go-getter and he admired that.

  "Change that to a beer and I'll stick around," Wyatt said.

  Steele laughed. "You're on. Besides, you st
ood me up for that drink yesterday."

  "Sorry, had to duck home for a few days," Wyatt said. "Didn't you get my text?"

  "Yeah, no worries."

  They headed into the hotel bar, ordered drinks, and Wyatt felt the familiar pressure to say something, anything, rather than sit silent like a dork.

  If Steele noticed any awkwardness, he didn't show it. "So where's home for you?"

  "Small town on the outskirts of New Orleans. It's peaceful."

  "You value peace, huh?"

  Not sure how to respond, Wyatt nodded.

  "You strike me as the quiet type, that's all."

  Steele's astuteness impressed him. "When it comes to talking, less is more."

  "I'll drink to that." They clinked beer bottles. "Does Kurt subscribe to the same way of thinking?"

  Wyatt snorted. "You can't shut the bastard up, especially if he's talking about himself. Why?"

  A frown appeared between Steele's brows. "Because he sent me a text. Short and sweet. Suggesting we meet up when he's in town in two weeks."

  Wyatt knew Kurt would be intimidated, having his position as eldest son usurped by the Aussie, so Kurt extending the hand of friendship to Steele amazed him. Particularly when Kurt usually never gave a shit about anyone but himself.

  "You seem surprised?" Steele said.

  "Word of advice. Kurt and Christopher are like this." He intertwined his first and middle fingers. "So Christopher may use him to meet you."

  Steele's frown deepened. "I'm not interested in anything the old man has to say and I'll tell him to his face if he ever dared confront me."

  "He'll dare," Wyatt said. "Christopher has a hide thick as a rhino. And the curiosity will be killing him, so he'll definitely do something underhanded to get to you."

  "Prick," Steele muttered, downing most of his beer in a few gulps.

  Not wanting to waste time talking about Christopher, Wyatt changed the subject. "Ashlin came home with me."

  Steele's eyebrows shot heavenward. "The redhead?"

  Wyatt nodded and Steele whistled low. "Wow. There are no flies on you, mate."

  "Did you just insult me?"

  Steele sniggered. "It's an Aussie saying, means you're astute. Switched on."

  Frigging turned on, more like it, but Wyatt couldn’t share that much with his half-brother.

  Steele stared at him with admiration. "So what happened?"

  "I did what you said. Called her bluff. Next thing I know I asked her to come home for the weekend and she accepted. We hung out. Got to know each other. It was nice." Could he sound any lamer?

  "Nice?" Steele jabbed him in the chest. "Mate, nice is for cupcakes and puppies." He grinned. "I'm hoping for your sake it moved beyond nice."

  "We fooled around a little." Wyatt wouldn't say anything more than that and Steele must've picked up on his recalcitrant vibe, because he nodded and didn't pry.

  "Good for you." Steele slapped him on the back. "She's a stunner."

  Wyatt managed a weak, "Yeah," before hiding behind his beer bottle again.

  He could ask Steele's advice, but what Ashlin had revealed to him was private and he didn't want to encroach on that. Besides, if her demeanor this morning had been any indication, his plan to make her so hot she'd beg for it was working. The sexual tension between them was palpable. And he intended on ratcheting that up later today.

  "Will you see her again?"

  "Yeah, we're going to date casually while I'm in Vegas."

  Looking suitably impressed, Steele gestured at the barman. "Another round?"

  "Nah, I'm good, thanks." Wyatt also wanted to move onto phase two of his plan and that meant heading back to his hotel suite. "I've actually got to catch up on work tonight. Maybe we can organize a dinner with Zane sometime this week?"

  "Sounds like a plan." Steele picked up his refill. "Catch you later."

  "Okay." Wyatt wasn't the touchy-feely type. He rarely shook hands with Kurt. Yet for some inexplicable reason he felt like giving Steele a man-hug. The guy looked lonely.

  Steele shot him a curious glance when he hadn’t move, so Wyatt raised his hand and walked away. The person he should be considering touching was Ashlin.

  Sooner rather than later.

  CHAPTER TEN

  "Where did you disappear to over the weekend?" Miranda linked her hands and stretched overhead. "Even Chantal noticed your absence and that's saying something considering she's shacked up with Lover Boy and not coming up for air."

  "I went away." Ashlin dabbed at her face with a towel then draped it around her neck.

  When she'd asked Wyatt to drop her off at Burlesque Bombshells, she'd envisaged a leisurely work out session by herself. Sunday nights were notoriously quiet at the club, with the dancers performing two brief shows and the place closing early.

  Chantal had wanted that from the beginning, to give her staff some down time one day a week and her employees appreciated it. Ashlin rarely had input into the Sunday shows, the dancers performing the same routine for as long as she could remember. Mainly regulars came in on Sundays. They knew what to expect and the girls delivered. The ever-popular fan dance. One of the girls in a life-sized champagne glass. A combo veil-feather number.

  It meant Ashlin could have a complete night off. She'd usually curl up with a book. Tonight, she'd needed to work off her frustrations.

  She hadn't counted on running into Miranda in the club's gym.

  "Where'd you go?" Miranda moved onto stretching her quads and hamstrings.

  "A town near New Orleans."

  "Nice. Spa retreat?"

  "No, a friend's house." Ashlin eyed the door, wondering if she could escape before Miranda's interrogation continued.

  Her friend loved to gossip and Ashlin would bear the brunt if Miranda learned any more.

  "Anyway, I have to run—"

  "Anyone I know?" Miranda lunged to one side and held the stretch, the twinkle in her eyes alerting Ashlin to the fact she wouldn't let up until she knew every last nitty gritty detail.

  "No." Ashlin picked up her workout bag and slung it over her shoulder. "See you later—"

  "Male or female friend?"

  Knowing she was sunk, Ashlin shrugged. "Male."

  Miranda abandoned her stretching and bounded over. "Tell me more."

  "Nothing to tell. Wyatt asked me to go with him and—"

  "Wyatt!" Miranda screeched, and Ashlin wondered if the audience had heard from all the way across the club's complex. "The cutie fixing our computers?"

  Ashlin nodded, knowing she wouldn't have to say another word, as Miranda would continue to babble with excitement.

  "But I didn't know you two were even dating. And for him to ask you to go away with him, that's huge." Miranda rubbed her hands together. "And obviously Chantal doesn't know. Wow, you two could be sisters-in-law—"

  "Whoa. Hold on there. We're just dating while he's in town, that's it."

  Miranda, a hopeless romantic who lived on a diet of erotic novels and rom-com movies, clasped her hands to her heart. "It's so great. You've been single for ages and he's lovely so imagine if you did get together long-term—"

  "You're hopeless." Ashlin laughed and headed for the door. "Go home and read one of those smutty books you love and leave me alone."

  "I want details!" Miranda yelled and Ashlin flipped her the bird.

  As Ashlin slipped out of the door, her cell buzzed with an incoming message.

  She rummaged in her bag and pulled it out, knowing Miranda worked fast but not that fast. This couldn't be Chantal demanding Intel on her weekend away.

  When she saw the sender’s name on the screen, her heart did a weird little skive.

  WOT R U WEARING?

  Was Wyatt trying to have phone sex with her? One way to find out.

  She typed a response: PINK THONG. C-THRU LACE BRA.

  The message had barely entered cyberspace when he answered.

  TAKE THEM OFF.

  Heat flushed her cheeks. Wow, she'd
never had phone sex before. And the anticipation of doing it with Wyatt made her hands shake.

  She bolted for her office, slammed the door shut and flicked the lock. She slipped off her sneakers and made herself comfortable on the small two-seater sofa opposite her desk. Then she answered.

  NOT TIL U GET NAKED 1ST.

  She stared at her cell's screen, willing a return message. When it came, she jumped.

  DONE. NOW U.

  Feeling foolish, Ashlin unhooked her bra and pulled it through the sleeve of her tank top. Then she shimmied out of her thong and put her shorts back on. She may be up for her first bout of phone sex but no way could she lounge around her office naked.

  Her cell pinged. PINCH NIPPLES. ROLL THEM. IMAGINE IT'S ME.

  Ashlin placed the cell on the sofa next to her, and did as Wyatt instructed. It felt good. Fantastic, in fact. Imagining his fingers tweaking the hardened nubs.

  TOUCH YOUR CLIT.

  She didn't need to be asked twice, the pressure building as she looked down and envisaged Wyatt's head between her legs. Imagined entwining her fingers in his dark curls as his tongue licked her…

  FASTER. LIKE I'M PUMPING MY COCK.

  Seeing his explicitness on the screen had her excitement skyrocketing. She circled her clit with her middle finger, faster and faster, her breathing shallow.

  Sweat beaded between her breasts, trickled down to where she couldn't stop staring at her hand. Until her cell beeped again and she eagerly glanced at it to see Wyatt's next instruction.

  U R SO WET 4 ME. CUM.

  And she did, the spasms stronger than anything she'd ever experienced alone, draining every last drop of energy as she sank deeper into the sofa cushions.

  Every inch of her body tingled, like being zapped with tiny bursts of electricity. Hell, if Wyatt could do this remotely, she could be ready sooner than expected to let him try it for real.

  She picked up her cell, lost for words. It vibrated in her hand.

  SWEET DREAMS. C U SOON.

  That was it? She wanted more. Now.

  But considering how goddamn horny Wyatt had made her over the weekend, the guy knew what he was doing. She needed to trust him. Something she'd never done with any guy since Dougal.