The Vault Box Set

by Summers, Eden

“When it comes to you, I get nothing I want.”

  His retort hit her like a slap across the face. She swung around, teetering again, her heels producing the same stability as cooked spaghetti. “Then what do you want, Bryan? Tell me.”

  He crossed his arms over his broad chest, making his jacket gape and the material of his shirt temptingly tighten over the muscles beneath.

  Oh, dear God.

  The entire world conspired against her attempts to dislike him. Every time she erected blocks to combat the attraction, he’d shove them down again in one mighty Hulk smash.

  “I want you to fucking listen.” His breath came in exhausting huffs. “I’m trying to show you how to find a guy who deserves you. Someone who’s going to give a shit about what you want. And the minute I turn my back you’re hooking up with Cowboy Bill.”

  “Hooking up?” Hooking up? “He offered to buy me a drink. I declined. And he didn’t take no for an answer. I didn’t even take a sip of the champagne until you came back and inspired the need for alcoholism.”

  He glared, those blue irises harsh with menace.

  “Come on.” She sighed. “What’s this really about?”

  “You know what this is about.” The words grated through perfect teeth, across lush, smooth lips.

  She wanted to nod and confirm that, yes, this was about feelings neither one of them could ignore. This was about something more than friendship or sex or the Vault. This was about sparks and connection and heart-clenching emotion.

  “This is about needing a demonstration assistant,” he snarled. “That’s all this has ever been.”

  Her nose tingled, throat pinched. “I know that.” But she hadn’t. Not really. She’d tried to forget. She’d ignored the entire purpose of them being together while becoming overrun with the allure of romance.

  Again.

  This was Lucas on repeat.

  “Good,” he snapped.

  “Great,” she mimicked.

  He approached, getting in her face. His nostrils flared, his lip curled. “Fucking perfect.”

  She’d never wanted to kiss him more. The thrill of having his beard scratch against her mouth, her neck, her breasts. Her heart thundered. Her throat pinched tighter. She whirled on her toes and escaped in the opposite direction, the click, click, click of her heels a panicked staccato.

  “God, I wish I knew why you were such a grumpy jerk.” She approached the edge of the building and turned into the darkened parking lot, remaining close to the brickwork in case she needed the support.

  “Slow down. You’re going to wind up on your ass.”

  “Stop it, okay?” She glared over her shoulder. “Stop the back and forth. The Jekyll and Hyde. The kindness and severity. I’m sick of it.” Her ankle rolled, the sharp twinge of pain shooting up the outside of her leg. She tilted, the threat of falling on her butt replaced with something even more threatening—his hold.

  He grabbed her, tugging her against his strong chest and lunging her into the brickwork. She was boxed in, caught between two layers of cold sterility. But that wasn’t what stared back at her. Those blue eyes weren’t barren. She could see everything peering down at her—his affection, his lust, his hopes for the future. Then, in a blink, they disappeared.

  “Jesus Christ.” He held her upright, keeping her caged. “I never should’ve brought you here.”

  Regret took over his expression. Annoyance, too. Her delusional fairytale of what they’d shared became tarnished by the frustration staring down at her.

  “I’m sorry.”

  His brows pulled tight. “Why?”

  “I don’t know.” A breath shuddered from her lungs. “I feel like I need to apologize. I’ve never offended anyone as much as I seem to offend you.” She had to keep talking, if only to make sure he remained nestled against her, his warmth finally sinking in. They’d never been this close. Not emotionally. “I guess I lost sight of this being about your job. I began to think we were friends.”

  His body relaxed.

  No, it deflated. His shoulders slumped, his face fell. “You don’t offend me, Ella.”

  “Then what is it?” she whispered.

  He turned his head away, the tension building in his frame until he loomed over her as he focused on the street.

  “Bryan?” She reached out, her fingertips tingling the closer she came to his beard-covered cheek. Her palm slid over the coarse hairs, and everything inside her crumpled. She’d never touched him. Not like this. Not with her heart in her throat and her feelings exposed in the brief connection.

  She guided his face back to hers and pleaded with her eyes. “What’s this all about?”

  The hardness of his jaw became more defined. “It’s about wanting to fuck you. I’ve gone insane for the last five hours, fighting the need to get you under me. And the five days before that.” He stepped forward, squeezing her tighter between the hard wall of the building and the harder wall of his chest. “Even before that, Ella. Since the first night I touched you in the fucking locker room.”

  Hope took the reins and ran. Everything inside her ignited, emotions and body parts all combusting to cause a mass of burning, tingling flesh.

  She had to kiss him. Had to taste those lips and feel them devastating hers. And that was exactly what they’d do—devastate her. Destroy her. Because one passionate kiss would be so much more than she’d had from her husband.

  He rocked into her, the solid length of his shaft making itself known against her pubic bone. She couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. All she could do was become ensnared as his mouth called her name like a siren’s song.

  She smashed her lips to his and immediately drowned in the intensity of his reciprocation. His hand flew to her hair, sliding over her scalp, holding her close. His arm wrapped around her waist, squeezing life back into her. Every part of him touched her. Every inch of her body remained at his mercy, while his tongue parted her lips and delved deep.

  He took over. Made her hyperventilate. All with one kiss.

  With only his beard, lips, and teeth.

  When he pulled back, they both panted into the small space between them. “We should get out of here.”

  She nodded.

  His hand left her hair, snaked down her arm, and entwined with her fingers. He didn’t acknowledge the intimacy, didn’t even look her in the eye anymore. Instead, he turned and led her to the car, not stopping until they stood at the passenger door, his free hand poised on the handle.

  He remained close, frozen against her, as if the world had stopped for them to have this moment. At least that was how it felt, until comprehension dawned.

  “You can’t drive, can you?”

  He released her hand and wiped a rough palm over his mouth. “I’ve had too much to drink.”

  He remained pressed against her, the teasing torment of her feelings flickering between them like rapidly igniting sparks. She tried to think of a sensible way out of this situation. Something that wouldn’t leave her broken tomorrow. But want and need fried those rational thoughts, leaving her alone with the chemical imbalance driving her to clutch his shirt and pull him closer.

  “Do you want to catch a cab?” She lifted her clutch over her shoulder and placed it on the roof of his car.

  A lifetime of racing heartbeats measured the seconds they remained close, the intoxication rapidly leaving her system in a passion-induced detox.

  “You know I don’t.” His touch returned to her hip. “Not yet.”

  The pulse of his dick nestled against her. The thickness, the length, made her salivate. She couldn’t budge. It wasn’t the inescapable cage of his arms. It was his nearness. His proximity. The promise of more.

  “Are you sure you want to do this now?” he asked, his breath drifting over her cheek, inspiring exhilaration, goose bumps, and nausea in overlapping doses.

  She was entirely wrecked by this man.

  “Are you sure you want to finish this here?” He nuzzled into her hair, his nose teasi
ng her neck, his beard scratching her skin. He gripped her chin, guiding her gaze to his penetrating eyes while his thigh parted hers, his weight pinning her to the car.

  “Yes.” The word was a breathy exhale. “Here. Now.”

  He ground into her, tearing a whimper from her throat. He was already so close to fucking her, a mere unbuckle of his belt and the raise of her dress. She could sense how cataclysmic the penetration would be. How perfect. But… “I’m scared this isn’t going to end well.”

  She needed his reassurance. Craved it as much as she craved his cock.

  “Doesn’t matter. We both know this is inevitable,” he countered, gripping her dress.

  She couldn’t stop him. There was no will. Her body gave her no choice.

  All she could do was stare into that fierce face as he focused on her with pure ownership and lifted her hem. Inch by inch, the tight material crawled up her body, exposing her flesh with agonizing lethargy. The cool night air seeped into her thighs, her hips, her sex. And still, those eyes pinned her, reading the reactions she tried to hide.

  He released the fabric to bundle at her waist, then slid his hands down her bare skin, searing the flesh he touched.

  “You weren’t lying about not wearing underwear.”

  “I have no reason to lie to you.” She could’ve laughed at the hypocrisy. She’d been lying to him all night. This afternoon, too. She’d lied about her feelings. About her intent. She’d lied and lied and lied. Even to herself. “This dress doesn’t look anywhere near as sexy with visible panty lines.” She lied again. The lack of underwear had been to tease him. To see if he was affected by her the way she was by him.

  “Well…” He grinned. “I’ve never appreciated honesty more than I do right now.” He gripped her chin, demanding her attention. A gentle fingertip glided over her tingling lower lip, the connection more painful and emotional than anything she could’ve expected.

  Her insides waged war. Half of her screamed to take all she could get. The other ached to tell him what another kiss would mean. To make him understand. Even though nobody else ever had. Not even her mother or Kim.

  This time when he leaned in, she held her breath, waiting for his next move. Those tempting lips approached, only to veer at the last second and plague her cheek with the burn. “I could’ve sworn you weren’t the type to fuck in a parking lot,” he whispered against her skin. “But you have a habit of surprising me.”

  His beard grazed each place of impact, along her jaw, then further, to the sensitive spot below her ear. She wanted to hate the misplaced sentiment. Wanted to hate him in general. But those light kisses turned into nibbles, the nibbles transforming into bites and sucks, until he ravaged her neck with such erotic efficiency she clung to his shoulders for more.

  “Take off the scarf.” He ground into her, his erection thick and pulsing between them.

  “If I take it off, are you going to leave more marks?”

  “Without a doubt.”

  Oh, God. She couldn’t have asked for a better response.

  She slid the silk from her neck. The delicate glide inspired goose bumps. Her skin erupted in a mass of tingles. She held the material out to him and pretended it didn’t affect her when he placed his hand over hers, stealing the scarf from her grip.

  “Now, open your mouth.”

  She recoiled. “Excuse me?”

  “Trust me, you’re going to want something in that mouth to stop you crying out.”

  “I’ll be quiet.”

  “Really?” The silk fell to his side while his free hand skimmed the trim patch of curls at the apex of her thighs. With a quick slide of his fingers, he grazed her clit and parted her folds, teasing her slit. She moaned with the sharp infusion of pleasure. The noise was long, low and entirely out of control.

  “Do you want to rethink that promise?” He pulsed the tip of two fingers at her entrance, eyeing her with confidence while he worked his magic.

  Her chest exploded, the shrapnel shooting to her breasts, her abdomen, her core.

  “How do you think you’re going to react once I slide my cock in here?”

  He raised the scarf and a confident brow at the same time.

  Damn him. For everything.

  “Fine.” She jutted her chin, waiting.

  His eyes blazed as he removed his fingers from between her legs to place the material in her mouth. She bit down while he crossed it behind her neck, then guided it forward to hang over her chest.

  “Now give me your wrists.”

  She shook her head, working the material from her mouth. “No.”

  “Don’t trust me?

  “No. I don’t. Not out here. Not when I’m already vulnerable enough.”

  A flash of rejection marred his features. “I wouldn’t hurt you, Ella. Not like that.”

  Not. Like. That.

  Just in every other way imaginable.

  He worked the silk between her lips and tightened the knot behind her neck. “There. Pretty as a picture and even more inviting now that you can’t talk.”

  “You’re a piece of work, you know that?” The words were mumbled into utter incoherence.

  “What was that?”

  “Fuck you.”

  He smirked. “You’ll be doing that soon enough.”

  A hand glided between them, those talented fingers rediscovering her entrance, spreading her folds. This time, her accompanying whimper barely sounded, smothered by delicate material.

  “That’s better.” He bent forward. “Now I won’t have to hold back.”

  She would’ve hated if he had. She couldn’t wait to see his mindlessness. His restraint and subsequent surrender.

  “I love how you’re always wet for me. Are you like this for everyone?”

  She shook her head. No. Nobody but him.

  “Good.” He trailed two fingers around in circles, not stopping the motion as he retrieved a wallet from his back pocket, flipped the leather open, and rested it against his hip to pull a condom from the notes section. Once he had what he wanted, he dropped the wallet to the ground, his cards, coins, and notes scattering across the asphalt.

  He didn’t seem to notice. Didn’t seem to care.

  He placed the condom packet between his teeth and unbuckled his belt one-handed. The clink, clink, clink of metal on metal broke the quiet night air, followed by the grate of his zipper. She watched, her breath catching as he shoved at his waistband and fisted his erect length in his palm.

  She was really doing this. Really shoving herself into a situation that could only end in heartbreak. Again.

  But who cared?

  She’d recovered before.

  She reached out, trailing her nails along his shaft, then gripped the base with a tight squeeze.

  “Fuck.” The curse was guttural, defenseless, and entirely perfect.

  Behind the scarf, she smiled.

  He released his dick and spat the condom packet into his palm. “So, you want me to blow in your hand, is that it?” He closed his eyes and dropped his head back. The worst part was his fingers sliding from between her thighs. “Come on, sweetheart. You need to let me suit up. Neither one of us want to see me finish like this.”

  Maybe she did.

  Maybe it was best for them both.

  He was under her control, susceptible to her touch, just like she was to his. The knowledge made her attraction all the more punishing. He was so beautiful, his face a mix of tension and control as moonlight beamed down on those harsh features.

  “Ella.” The way he said her nickname—the plea, the passion, the lust. “This isn’t what you want… You need my hands on your ass… My mouth on your neck… My cock in your pussy.”

  Her lips burned with dryness she couldn’t lick away. All she could do was bite down on silk and whimper.

  “You’ve got five seconds,” he murmured. “Four…”

  She trailed her touch to the head of his shaft and rubbed the moisture beading at his slit.

 
“I lied.” He gripped her wrist and dragged her hand away. “You’re done.” His other arm snaked behind her back, lifting her off the ground. “Legs around my waist.”

  She complied without thought, her ass sliding against the side of the car, his dick poised at her entrance as he worked the protection over his length in efficient strokes.

  All too soon, he was ready and looking at her as if asking permission.

  “Do it,” she mumbled around the gag. “Just do it.”

  His jaw clenched. “You sure?”

  Goddamn him and his sweet concern.

  She threw her hands around his neck and sank her nails deep. If those scars weren’t enough to convince him to hurry, the buck of her hips should’ve been.

  He slid his hand to the top of his shaft, working the tip back and forth along her entrance. She didn’t know where to train her gaze—on his impressive cock, his muscled chest, or those penetrating eyes now framed by strands of loose hair.

  He blinked at her, sweat beading his brow as he snaked his tongue out to moisten his gorgeous lips. She became lost in the moment. Lost in him.

  He thrust home in one long, punishing shove of his hips, stealing all the breath from her lungs. All the thoughts from her mind. There was only friction. Only pleasure.

  She cried out, her head falling back, her fingers clenching tight into his neck. The heat of him enveloped her chest, the weight pressing deep. His hips rocked in a slow, torturous rhythm and she whimpered with each undulation, the sound ringing louder and louder in her ears.

  “Hey.” He placed his mouth a breath away from hers. “Keep it quiet, sweetheart. You’re not going to find a friendly audience in this shoddy neighborhood.”

  Her breathing quickened with her jerky nod and she bit around the silk to sink her teeth into her lower lip. She wiggled, trying to seat her ass on the edge of the window and slipped.

  “It’s okay.” He gripped her tight. “I’ve got you.”

  Did he? Really?

  Physically, he was there. But emotionally, she wasn’t sure he existed.

  “Fuck.” He thrust. Again and again. Each pleasure-induced pulse followed with a panted breath against her lips. “What are you doing to me?”

  She closed her eyes, wishing she could close her ears, too, because his words were sinking into her soul, never to be removed. So damn good… Drive me crazy… Fuck… Best damn thing…She wanted to scream for him to stop and beg for this to never end.