by Katee Robert
“That’s too bad.” He thrust against her. “But there’s a silver lining.”
“Does it involve less talking?”
His grin made her so damn wet she had to struggle not to grind against him. “Talking is definitely optional.”
“I like this idea.” She kissed him, teasing open his mouth and drawing a moan from both of them. It didn’t matter that they were in a semipublic place and could be caught by anyone walking by. It didn’t matter that Brock wasn’t part of her plan. Nothing mattered except getting him inside her.
He must have been thinking along the same lines because he moved them sideways and she heard the glove compartment click and then a crinkle of what she hoped to God was a condom, because the thought of stopping right now had her almost willing to throw out every single bit of common sense she had.
“Take off your panties.”
She slid to the seat next to him and shimmied out of them while he unbuttoned his jeans and shoved them down. She watched him roll the condom on, greedy for the sight of him. And what a sight it was. Even mostly covered in clothing, he was a study in male perfection.
It really wasn’t fair.
As Brock made as if to push her back onto the seat, she shook her head. “I want to be on top.” She couldn’t totally give up control, not now, when she was already compromising her plan in such a big way.
For a second, she thought he’d argue, but then he pulled her into a quick kiss. “I swear to God, woman, I’m going to make love to you good and proper before the week’s out.”
Not if she had anything to say about it. But now wasn’t the time to tell Brock that this changed nothing between them. It couldn’t. She wouldn’t let it.
She moved to the side while he lay down and then climbed on top of him. As she sank onto his length, she was grateful for a whole lot more. Regan hissed out a breath as she took him in fully, rocking against him so that he rubbed all the right spots. “You feel so good.”
“You have no idea.”
She opened her eyes to find him watching her, and if she thought he’d shown vulnerability before, it was nothing compared to the look of naked need on his face now. Unable to deal with exactly what that meant, she closed her eyes and gave herself over to the feeling of him inside her, his hands on her hips urging her on. The sound of their ragged breathing filled the cab of the truck, and she was struck by the desire to be naked with him in a bed, to let him do all the things to her that his dark eyes promised.
It was impossible, though.
All too soon her orgasm loomed. Her strokes became jerky as she chased that feeling of wholeness blooming inside her, but Brock kept her going. “Fuck, you are so goddamn beautiful.” And just like that, she was coming, her nails digging into his forearms as he slammed into her and finished with a groan.
She let herself slump onto his chest, promising that it would only be for a few minutes. Then she’d move. In a few minutes.
He smoothed her hair, the violent beating of his heart a drum against her ear. “That was something.”
If by something, he meant a goddamn disaster, then he was right. How was she supposed to deal with the fledgling feelings burgeoning inside her? Brock wasn’t part of the plan. He may not have an army of sluts at home, but he also lacked the key things she needed in order to be in a relationship with him. A relationship only worked if two people brought the best they had to the table and, in turn, brought out the best in each other. She might be happy with Brock for a little while, and he’d sure as hell shown some drive in pursuing her, but that spark might not always be there. If her parents had taught her anything, it was that relationships took work. She wasn’t sure she could risk putting it all on the line based on a handful of days. If she did and it didn’t work out…
It would break her heart.
It was a shame she couldn’t be sure she would avoid that outcome altogether. He already had his hooks into her. Even after so short a time, if she walked away, she was going to walk away bleeding.
Which meant it was time for some damage control.
…
Brock felt the change in her body a few seconds before she spoke, and he knew what was coming. It didn’t lessen the sting of her words.
“We should get back.”
It was a setback, and one he should have expected. If he’d learned anything about Regan in this short time together, it was that she didn’t do anything without a plan. He wasn’t part of that plan. It had to scare her to death that she felt something for him. And she did feel something for him. Her earlier declaration wasn’t professing endless love—
He gave himself a mental shake as she climbed off him and rearranged her dress. Who said anything about love? That wasn’t what he wanted… Was it? He pulled his jeans back into place and buttoned them, the question circling his head. He’d never felt a burning desire for a wife or kids or the so-called American Dream.
That was Caine’s gig. He was supposed to be the one to marry some society girl and have a few kids who would eventually carry on the McNeill legacy. Which made him wonder if that’s exactly what Regan had in mind when it came to Logan—marriage and little overachiever babies. She was only fucking Brock while she bided her time to make a move on Logan.
How the hell had he tricked himself into forgetting about that?
He shook his head. Stupid to lose sight of the endgame. It was on the tip of his tongue to say something to her about Logan and Sophie, but the words turned to dust in his mouth. Winning by default wasn’t his style. He’d just as soon not play. Shit. He felt like he was free-falling totally out of control when it came to this woman. She threw off his game, made him want things he had no business wanting.
It was definitely time to head back to the resort. He put the truck into gear. “Any more stops?”
“Nope.”
“Good.” Great. Less time trapped in this truck with her. They’d been making progress, but Brock hadn’t really thought what that might mean in the long term. If he was smart, he’d stay the hell away from her for the rest of the week. Chalk this up to two adults having a good time and move on with their lives.
As he pulled onto the highway, he recognized it for the lie it was. For better or worse, he couldn’t leave Regan alone. If she told him to fuck off, then he’d have to respect her wishes, but he was going to do his damnedest to make sure she didn’t want him gone.
He glanced at her, taking in the rigid set of her shoulders and the way she pointedly turned to the passenger window. It wasn’t time to pursue this. He’d give her a little time to recoup—give himself a little time to plan his next approach—and then he’d circle back around.
They pulled into the parking lot of Beaver Creek Resort and both their phones went off. Regan reached hers first, flipped through it, and sighed. “I forgot about the dancing lessons.”
Well, hell, he had, too. “When?”
“An hour.” She reached for her door. “I wouldn’t be late if I were you. Julie will hunt you down and then you’re totally screwed.” Then she was gone, shoe bags in hand, striding across the parking lot.
He turned off the truck and snorted. She’d left her panties behind. Again. Was it on purpose? Brock wouldn’t put it past her. One last fuck you to him. He scooped them up and shoved them in his pocket.
There was plenty of time to figure out the perfect opportunity to give them back to her.
Chapter Eleven
Regan took extra care with her appearance before the dancing lessons, even though her heart wasn’t in it. She curled her hair, studying herself in the mirror. Perfection. The snag-Logan’s-attention plan was off to a great start—if he didn’t sit up and take notice today, then the man didn’t have a heartbeat. And he had to notice her now. They were four days into this trip and she hadn’t had a single chance to advance her plan because she was so busy with Brock. It was just wrong.
Wasn’t it?
Her own heart gave a dull thud. Her morning with Brock had been good—
too good. Even though he hadn’t pressed her on the drive back, she was still too aware of him next to her. She’d wanted nothing more than to slide across the bench seat and tuck herself under his arm. He would have let her, too.
“Stop that right now. You know better.”
She did. Men like him were a distraction. Even if they didn’t mean to be. It wasn’t fair and it might not be nice, but she’d worked too damn hard to get to where she was to be content with someone who coasted through life, who had doors opening to him solely because of the family he’d been born into.
Her phone rang, saving her from more endless mental circling. She practically dived for it, smiling when she saw Addison’s name. “Babycakes, tell me something brilliant.”
She laughed. “You must be really desperate for this info. I did a bit of digging on the two names you gave me. Everything has been emailed to you.”
All the ammunition she needed to give her an edge in getting close to Logan. Too bad she couldn’t bring herself to open her computer and look at it. Later, she promised herself. “Thank you for getting back to me so quickly.”
“I should let you know that I’m considering poaching both those men for my business. They’d be a hit with some ninety percent of my female clients—and a good portion of my male ones, too.”
She had no idea. Regan forced a smile into her voice. “I bet.”
“I know, I know, you don’t share until you have a deal in the bag.” Addison paused. “Unless this is personal?”
“Addison, you know better.” She hated not telling her friend what was going on, but Addison was a firm believer in soul mates. She’d made it her personal goal in life to make sure everyone she came in contact with found theirs. If she knew Regan was having such conflicting feelings over Brock, she’d be on the first plane out here to meddle.
“You’re right. I just hope you’re managing to have some sort of fun out there.”
She thought about what she’d been doing in Brock’s truck earlier and tried to ignore the heat spreading over her chest and up her neck. “I’m doing just fine.”
“Good! We need to get together when you’re finally back in town. It’s been too long.”
“We will, I promise.”
“I’m holding you to that. Have fun!” She hung up, leaving Regan once again alone with her thoughts. She looked at her computer one last time before making a decision and turning away. She’d read whatever Addison dug up later. There was plenty of time to insinuate herself with Logan without running the risk of being late for the damn dancing lessons.
She slipped on her red Come-Fuck-Me shoes and the memory of Brock’s words rolled through her. I can’t stop obsessing about your damn shoes. Shit. She almost changed them, but every single pair she owned screamed sex. What was wrong with that? She’d bought them because they made her feel sexy and powerful, and some days she just needed that. It wasn’t her fault he loved them, too.
She grabbed the shoe boxes and made her way down to the ballroom where the reception would be held tomorrow. Everyone was already there, including Brock and Logan.
She couldn’t help but compare them. Logan was so wonderfully clean-cut with his short hair and button-up shirt and slacks. He was the kind of man as at home in a corporate meeting as he was in a situation like this. And those shoulders sure filled out a suit. Damn.
Brock… Brock looked like he’d just rolled out of bed after a day spent fucking. His hair was still mussed from her fingers, and he looked as if he hadn’t a care in the world. And why would he? He knew his place and he was content to stay there.
Pointedly not looking at him, she walked up to Logan, putting a little extra swing in her hips. He smiled down at her, and she gave him a winning smile of her own. “I believe we’re partners.”
“That we are.”
The dance instructor—a French guy Kady had found somewhere—moved from couple to couple, rearranging hands and body placement. He reached them and gave a murmur of approval. “Very, very nice. Good height difference. Come now, you must touch ze beautiful woman. Seduce her with your dance. Yes, yes, like this.” He nudged Logan’s hand from the polite placement on her side lower to her hip, and then pushed her a little closer. “Now, waltz.”
She’d never danced outside of a bar, but apparently Logan had at some point, because he effortlessly led her around the floor. Wow, the guy had some moves. But he kept looking over her head and frowning at something, so she made an effort to get the conversational ball rolling. “So, Kady tells me you own your own business? That’s very impressive.”
“Says the successful headhunter.” He grinned. “You looking to poach one of my executives?”
She answered with a smile of her own as he spun them. So, he’d been checking up on her. That was promising. “If I were, I wouldn’t tell you. That said, I don’t know near enough about your company.”
“Professional curiosity, of course?”
Hardly. But she couldn’t out and say that she was trying to get him to talk about himself so she could find some common ground. “Maybe I’m considering taking up mountain climbing.” Not freaking likely.
“In that case, let’s skip the business talk and get right to the good stuff.”
“Yes, let’s.” The good stuff. That was exactly what she wanted… Right up until Logan started going off on the best place to take climbing lessons and all the different things she had to take into consideration before she ever left the building, let alone without an experienced climbing partner.
As they circled the room, her cheeks started to hurt from the smile she kept faking. It was made all the worse by the brightness in his eyes and the enthusiastic way he went on and on and on. Holy shit, this guy was really into the outdoors.
They spun again and she caught sight of Brock with Sophie. Regan’s eyes nearly popped out of her head at the red dress the woman was wearing. It was a knockout, and it revealed the rocking figure she’d commented on in the gym earlier. Brock held her in his arms, and he had a look of such utter concentration on his face that she wanted to march across the room and slap him.
It wasn’t fair and it didn’t make any sense, but she hated Sophie Brooks a little bit in that moment.
“But this is all theory until you get up on the wall.” Logan laughed. “I don’t know much about what gyms are the best in New York, but if you ever end up on my side of the States, I’ll take you up.”
This was the offer she’d been waiting for, but Regan couldn’t work up much enthusiasm. She didn’t want to be climbing a wall—she wanted to be climbing Logan. Though to be honest, right now she didn’t even want that.
No, the only man she wanted to climb was whirling around the room with another woman in his arms.
…
Brock could barely focus on interrogating Sophie when he was so distracted by the way Regan beamed up at Logan. And why shouldn’t she be fucking beaming? Being wrapped up in Logan’s arms was what she’d spent the last few days working toward. She was exactly where she wanted to be.
“You’re going to need dental work if you don’t stop gritting your teeth like that. Not to mention the tension migraines.”
He turned his attention back to Sophie, still not really able to believe how she’d shown up dressed to this shindig. The red dress hugged her like a second skin, showing off a body he might have looked twice at if it wasn’t attached to Colton’s baby sister. “Are you sleeping with someone from the wedding party?” He wanted to hear her say it—to confirm his suspicions about Logan.
She made a choked noise. “Brock Christopher McNeill, I know you did not just ask me that.” But her eyes made a quick, involuntary detour over to Logan and Regan, and snapped back brimming with the same dark, edgy emotions that swirled inside him.
Holy shit, he really was right in his suspicions. “Don’t try that middle name bullshit. You know damn well that only works when my mother does it.” He leaned in. “You know, Sophie, I’m not a stupid man.”
“C
ould have fooled me,” she muttered.
“Why does everyone keep saying that?”
“You know exactly why. You define the word underachiever, which is fine. It’s just what you do, even if you are wasting your potential.” She cocked her head to the side, the anger leaching out of her voice. “How’d I do? I think I embodied your dad pretty well.”
Some of the tightness in his chest evaporated. She’d just been joking. That wasn’t what she really thought of him. “He’s a bastard.”
“And he’s never seen you for what you are. His loss.” She sent another turbulent look over his shoulder and muttered, “A lot of people are losing tonight.”
“Don’t think for a second that you’ve distracted me. I want to know what’s going on with you. You show up to find Christine and Tyler looking like you’ve been rolling around in the sheets, and now this dress.”
She looked down. “What’s wrong with this dress?”
He bit back a sharp reply. In all the years he’d known her, she’d never taken much interest in prettying herself up. Which she didn’t need to—he’d always thought she was cute in a little-sibling kind of way. But he really would be a bastard if he cut her down right now. “There’s nothing wrong with it. It’s a stunner.”
“Liar.”
“You know better than to call me that.” He spun her out and pulled her back into his arms. “What’s his name?” Would she come out and say it? Sophie had a stubborn streak a mile wide, but he wanted—needed—something to distract himself from the sound of Regan’s voice somewhere behind him.
“So you can run to my brother and tattle?”
“Hell no. I’ll take care of this one myself.” He leaned down. “Though I might bring Reed into it.”
Her eyes widened. “You wouldn’t.”
“Again, you know better.” He started to go in for the kill, but Regan’s laugh rang through the hall. Brock looked over in time to see her go up onto her tiptoes and kiss Logan’s cheek. His stomach dropped out, and for a second, he thought he might be physically sick. The moment passed, but the feeling remained. Beside him, Sophie hissed like an angry kitten.