“Design must seduce, shape, and perhaps more importantly, evoke an emotional response.”—April Greiman
When he walked through the door on Monday afternoon, she was waiting for him.
She hadn’t slept in two nights. His image taunted her behind closed lids, tempting her with dirty, sex-filled scenes that made her body ache and yearn. He hadn’t called or texted. Was he going to pretend nothing had happened between them? Did he believe they could just calmly go back to work without acknowledging what had happened on that dance floor?
Fine. If he could do it, she could too. She’d die before mentioning the kiss or the blistering connection or the way her skin burned when they touched. She’d pretend they’d never danced and melted into one another as if they were one. They could torture her and she’d refuse to admit there was anything else between them but work, friendship, and respect.
Her whole body prickled in recognition as he stopped behind her. She refused to glance back, concentrating on putting the finishes on her built-in cabinet.
“Hey, you’re early,” he said. “The cabinet looks amazing. Did you use the warm pine stain?”
Jerk.
She made sure her voice sounded light and airy. “Yes, the cedar was too red, and the kitchen needs a more open, casual feel.”
His steps came closer. She practically felt his body heat pressing around her. “You distressed it, too.”
“Yep. Again, this calls for a more worn look. What do you think?”
“Looks great. Didn’t think you could pull it off, but once again, you managed to surprise me.”
“Glad you can admit some things,” she muttered, roughly sanding one ragged edge with a tad of violence.
“What’d you say?”
“Nothing. How was your weekend?” she asked.
She tried not to hold her breath. Had he seen Marissa Saturday night? Did he sleep with his potential wife after kissing her with wild abandon just a few nights before? She ground her teeth together and waited for his response.
“Kind of crappy. Went to my family’s house for dinner. Had to do some work for Cal so that took up most of my time.”
He could have texted her. A simple How are you doing? would have sufficed. She was on Twitter and knew he sometimes used the company account. Even a Facebook message would’ve been acceptable since she knew for sure they were friends.
“Cool.”
She didn’t say anything further. She concentrated on sanding, and practically felt him twitch with nerves behind her. Good. “How about you? Have a nice weekend?” he asked.
“It was great. Went out for drinks and dinner Saturday night.” The lie sprung easily. Sure, there were drinks, but it was just a few glasses of wine alone in her apartment. Dinner had consisted of Gage and Tom taking pity on her and feeding her a three-course meal while they listened sympathetically to her complaints about Brady.
“Oh. Sounds nice.”
Did his voice sound strained? Did he think she went on a date? She sanded the wood harder. “It was.”
“Good.” More silence. “Umm, I guess I’ll finish the work in the bathroom.”
“Great.” She listened to his footsteps retreat, hating their ridiculously juvenile one-word conversation. Why did she suddenly feel like a teenager around him? And why did she care so much if he didn’t want to talk about the kiss? Maybe it was just an experiment. Now that he’d satisfied his curiosity, he wanted things to go back to normal.
She groaned when she saw the uneven edge on the cabinets she’d sanded down like a madwoman and swore to get her act together.
She hadn’t mentioned the kiss.
Brady ripped at the last of the tile with a bit of violence. He was acting like a fucking idiot. He’d planned to call her over the weekend, but every time he picked up his damn phone, he choked. What was he going to say? How’s it going? Great kiss Thursday night? I’ve been thinking about you nonstop?
Everything seemed juvenile, so he decided to just wait to see her in person. He intended to talk about the kiss right away, but she’d refused to turn around, like she was embarrassed to face him. Did she regret the kiss? Had it been an experiment and one she now wanted to forget? Or had she thought about it endlessly on loop like he had, unable to sleep?
He uttered a vicious curse word in Spanish. She could’ve gone on a date Saturday night and put the encounter out of her mind. If he mentioned it now, it might look like he was a damn puppy dog panting for some attention. Probably better to remain cool, focus on work, and see where the day took them.
As the hours passed, the tension between them grew, twisting so tight Brady felt like any moment they’d both snap. Jackson’s absence made it worse. By the time dusk fell, they’d managed to avoid each other, exchange tight one-word sentences, and pretend everything was normal.
“Think you’re ready to wrap up?” he asked. They faced each other across the living room. He tried not to linger too long on the ripe swell of her breasts contained in a T-shirt that declared, Dream Big, Love Bigger in baby blue sparkle. Her jeans were too tight, her lips were too tempting, and her eyes were too full of questions he wanted answers to.
“You can go without me. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Her chilly tone caused the rubber band of tension to vibrate in warning. “I’ll wait.”
“I’m sure you have better things to do. People to see. Dates to go on. Sex to be had.”
He jerked back. Studied her with a narrowed gaze. “What did you just say?” he asked softly.
She practically spit and growled like a pissed-off cat ready to pounce. “You heard me the first time. In fact, I’ve been thinking you don’t need to be here anymore. Why don’t you go off and do what you do best—find a neat little project to work on and a nice little woman to obey? ’Cause I’m done!”
And just like that, he snapped.
All of his doubts vanished, and he knew in that instant, she was just as crazed as he was. She hadn’t forgotten their kiss. The memory was in her glittering hazel eyes, her shaking body, her tightly drawn tension. It was in the simmering heat pumping between them. It was in the tight tips of her nipples pressing desperately against her T-shirt, and her squeezed thighs and the madly beating pulse at the base of her neck.
Relief coursed through him. Now, at least he knew what to do.
Brady smiled real slow. Then crossed the room toward her.
* * * *
Charlie watched him close the distance between them. The entire day had been torture. She thought she could play the game, but she just couldn’t. She hated thinking he didn’t care about their kiss and refused to be one of those superchic, casual women who blew off any intimate encounter with jaded flourish.
Screw that.
“Why are you so mad, Charlotte?” he asked softly, getting closer and closer.
She stretched to full height, refusing to cower, and marched halfway to meet him. “Really? You have the nerve to ask me why I’m pissed off? We share this amazing, earth-shattering kiss in the middle of the dance floor, and then you walk out without another word? And when I think maybe you’ll reach out over the weekend to acknowledge such a kiss, I get nothing. Well, let me tell you something, Brady Heart. I won’t be used as some kind of Frankenstein experiment while you go off on real dates with Stepford women who are good enough to marry!”
“You think the kiss was that good, huh?”
Temper struck her. “You’re an asshole!”
She launched for him in attack, but he caught her close, bending her backward, holding her tight in his embrace. She panted for breath, ready to pummel him, but stilled when she saw the raw truth glimmering in his dark eyes. “I can’t stop thinking about that kiss either,” he growled against her lips. “Can’t stop thinking about you, like this, in my arms. Can’t stop thinking about you being mine.”
And then he kissed her, long and deep and hard. His tongue claimed her, holding her still beneath his demands. She curled closer to him, opened her mouth wider, and gave it all back to him full power. Finally, he broke away, his expression fierce with hunger.
She tried to speak, couldn’t, then tried again. “That was unexpected.”
His smile softened her heart. “Yes.”
“How long have you had the hots for me?”
“Too long.”
“I had no idea. Well, even after our almost kiss, I thought you didn’t like me.”
His brows drew together. His hands stroked her cheeks. “Not true. We may argue and I may disagree with your ideas, but there’s a lot of things I like about you.”
“Name them.”
He lowered his head, his breath a warm rush in her ear. “I respect your drive and your focus. You have great creativity. You have a kind heart, and you make people around you feel good. You’re funny. You’re passionate. You know how to salsa. And your body is super hot.”
A laugh hovered on her lips. “Did you just butcher the English language and say super?”
His teeth nibbled on her lobe, biting gently, then licking with his tongue. She shivered. “Sorry. I got caught up in the moment.”
Her hands stroked the lean muscles of his back, the broad strength of his shoulders. “Were you jealous of Gage?”
“Yes. I’ve been fighting my attraction to you for a while. Besides the work conflict, you’re ten years younger, plus I didn’t think you were interested.”
Her knees grew weak as he nibbled on her jaw, bit her lower lip, and kissed her again. “I never let myself go there. But I was always sneaking glances at your ass.”
He chuckled. “Brat.” He kissed her again. And again.
She leaned into him, hungry and desperate for more. He whispered her name.
“Yes?”
“Come home with me.”
The words rang with primal need and a hunger that rocked her foundation. Charlie had learned life was a gift of chances and opportunities that were ripped away with too much hesitation. She’d never regret any decision of risk; her only regrets were the what ifs. Right now, logic had no place in her world. Right now, she needed him and refused to think about tomorrow.
“Yes.”
He kissed her again, locked up, grabbed her hand, and led her out the door. She buckled herself into the cushy seat of his Mercedes. He pulled away from the curb, reached over, and entwined his fingers with hers.
They didn’t speak. The sexual tension pulsed in the tight quarters of the car. The drive felt like forever, but in reality, it had only been fifteen minutes. He pulled down a quiet end street and into a circular driveway. He cut the engine, getting out of the car, and quickly led her up the pathway. Charlie got the impression of sweeping lines of brick and glass, of multi-level decks and huge windows caught in shadows. They reached the porch. He opened the door, punched in a code to his alarm, and shut it behind him.
Then in one swift movement, he picked her up high in his arms, spun her around, and slammed her against the door. His body pinned hers until each of her curves cushioned his hard muscles. His knee slowly pushed open her thighs while his hands cupped her ass, holding her still.
Her breath came in rapid pants. Her panties were so wet, they were useless as any type of barrier. The primitive gleam in his dark eyes declared his intention, but it was his words that made her practically reach orgasm right there, right then.
“I need to know how you like it,” he whispered against her trembling lips. His thumbs caressed her jaw. “If you don’t like rough, I need to know now. Because I’m on the edge and I don’t want to scare you.”
Thrilled at his dark words, she parted her lips, running her tongue deliberately over the line of his mouth, then nipped with her teeth. “You couldn’t scare me if you tried,” she whispered back.
“Oh, the bad things I intend to do to you, Charlotte.” He worked his knee higher, pressing against her throbbing pussy.
She half shut her eyes and fought the moan. “Then make them good, Bolivar.”
That did it. His grip tightened, and his breath dragged into his lungs with force. “What did you just call me?” he asked softly, in clear warning.
She nibbled at that delicious, firm mouth of his again. God, she was frantic to get him to kiss her, rip off her damn clothes, and fuck her properly. But she wasn’t about to lose the first battle of the bedroom. “You heard me, Bolivar.”
His low laugh promised retribution. “Have you ever begged, Charlotte? Really begged?”
Her tummy dropped. Her nipples were so hard they ached. “No.”
“Oh, good. This is going to be fun.”
He slammed his mouth over hers at the same time his knee pushed firmly in between her legs.
She cried out but he swallowed the sound whole. His tongue dove deep, dominating her mouth in delicious, wicked detail. She battled him back, tongues twisting, teeth gnashing, frantic for more of him to ease the yawning need devouring her. The barrier of her jeans was pure torture. His knee slowly rocked against her swollen folds, giving temporary relief, then ripping it away. Her clit pounded for more pressure, and she twisted in his arms, but he held her still, refusing to let her satisfy herself. He began rubbing his knee slowly back and forth, driving her out of her mind, until her fingers grabbed at the open collar of his shirt and ripped.
The buttons popped off and spilled to the floor. She tore at the fabric until his chest was bared, and her hands traced the gloriously hard muscles of his shoulders, his pecs, his rippled abs, scraping her nails along his hot skin.
He cursed. Yanked down the zipper of her jeans and tore them off. Fisted her T-shirt in one hand and guided it over her head, then threw the fabric to the ground. He growled in appreciation at the baby blue lace of her bra, but he divested her of it quickly, baring her breasts. He wasted no time, dipping his head to capture a hard nipple in his mouth. She arched against him at the same time his knee made torturous circles around her pounding clit, hazing her vision.
He sucked hard, plumping up her breast, flicking the tip back and forth before biting gently.
“Oh, God!”
“No, my name. What is it?”
“Bolivar.” Damned if she was going to surrender this early on. She could hang on. Right?
He blew on her wet nipple. “Wrong answer.”
His fingers slid under her baby blue panties and dove into her wet heat.
“Agh!” Her head banged against the door at the delicious pressure of his fingers deep in her core. His thumb played with her clit and he hit just the right spot to make her body explode with shivers, right on the verge of a shattering, mind-blowing orgasm. His teeth sunk into the tender curve of her neck while he added another finger, curling slightly and driving deeper. Lights shimmered in her vision, and her hips rolled with demand, seeking more, seeking…
“You want it? Ask me.”
He was winning but she didn’t care, not when she was so close to the best orgasm of her life. She rode his fingers in total abandon, digging her nails into his hips, head arched back.
“I want it. Now.”
“Now, what?”
“Bastard. Now, please.”
“God, you drive me fucking crazy. Yes. Come for me, Charlotte.”
He bit her nipple, slammed his fingers into her dripping core, and flicked her clit.
She came. She screamed. She convulsed around his fingers, wet and throbbing, feeling so much pleasure it almost edged into pain. Instead of taking her down slow like most men did, he never stopped, pushing her further, rubbing her clit until she fell into a second orgasm whether she wanted to or not. Her legs clenched tight around his hips and she screamed again, awash in the sharp sensations attacking her from everywhere, flowing through her body like a river of hot lava.
She began to sag in his arms, and he scooped her up, carrying her up the stairs and entering a dark bedroom. He lay her down, the comforter soft and warm on her back, then quickly stripped off the rest of her clothes. Shadows slid and played over his figure. He unbuckled his belt and slid off his pants, then his underwear. Her gaze feasted on his gorgeous body. He stood with a sexy arrogance, hands on hips, feet apart, his large cock jutting out and making her mouth water.
Without thought, she crawled over the bed on all fours. “Let me touch you.” She reached out and he slowly walked over, allowing her fingers to grip him, stroking from root to tip, catching the drops of moisture on the head. He groaned, stiffening more under her touch, and with a thrill of power, she dipped her head and took him in her mouth.
His taste was as delicious as his scent, musky, earthy, sexy. She licked and sucked, hollowing her cheeks and taking him to the back of her throat, humming slightly until he jerked in her mouth, and his fingers tangled in her hair, guiding her movements. Wild with need, she worked him until he ripped her away, cursing, and threw her back on the bed.
“I haven’t even started and you already have me at the edge,” he growled. “You’re such a witch.”
She pouted. “You made me lose control. Fair play, right?”
“Not in my bedroom.”
“You chauvinistic, domineering, arrog-oh, God!”
She fell back on the pillow, gasping as his mouth hit her core. His broad shoulders kept her thighs wide apart, and he took his time tasting and exploring, his talented tongue using just the right amount of pressure on her clit, teasing her labia, bringing her straight to the edge again and keeping her there with a ruthless precision that made her want to weep and scream at the same time.
Her hips rolled in demand but he chained her to the bed, keeping his hands flat on her stomach and pinning her to the mattress. Her head thrashed. Her hands reached, her toes curled, and she did it again, dammit.
She begged.
He sucked hard on her clit and slammed three fingers inside her and she was coming again.
This time, he didn’t wait. She heard a rip, he rolled on the condom, and with one quick plunge, he took her completely.
The burning, tight heat inside was almost too much. She whimpered, but he shushed her, pressing kisses to her swollen lips, stroking her breasts, gentling her for the invasion. Her body opened up, released, and he slid more fully inside. Rocking his hips, he kept up a teasing rhythm until the burning need was back in full force.
“Charlotte? Is this too much?”
She looked into his beautiful face. He gritted his teeth, and his jaw clenched with tension as he held himself back, waiting until she was ready. The graceful symmetry of his demand and patience, his dominance and gentleness, poured through her. She stroked his cheeks and wrapped her arms around his shoulders.
“Want more.”
He pressed his forehead to hers and moved. Over and over, faster and faster, he fucked her more completely and fully than any man had before. His gaze locked on hers, never breaking the connection, drinking in every expression on her face. The wet slap of their bodies and panting breaths filled the silence, filled the darkness, and then the orgasm shredded through her, tossing her around the bed and wringing helpless cries from her lips.
He groaned and tightened his grip as he came right after, jerking his hips as he reached release. Bodies slick with sweat, the smell of sex ripe in the air, he held her close until she slumped into the mattress. “Be right back,” he whispered. After a few moments, he climbed back into bed and cradled her against his chest. She didn’t speak for a while, enjoying the tender strokes of his hand over her hair, gentle kisses pressed against her forehead. Completely boneless, deliriously giddy, a smile curved her lips as she lay in the darkness, enjoying the moment and the connection.
“You were right,” she finally roused herself to say.
He stroked her hair. “About what?”
“You’re a master at multiple orgasms.”
He laughed, cuddling her closer, and her whole body sighed with pleasure. They fell into a comfortable, stretching silence for a while. She stroked his chest, letting her thoughts guide her words. “What about Marissa?” she asked. “I know we weren’t thinking this through. What are we doing, Brady?”
Her heart galloped as his muscles tightened. She hadn’t planned to jump into bed with him, but now that it had happened, she realized she wanted more. More time with him. More time to see the man beneath the surface and everything he’d been hiding. Would he give them a chance or was this just a one-night stand?
“We never slept together,” he said quietly. “And I won’t be seeing her again, Charlotte.”
She held her breath. “Why?”
“Because I don’t just sleep with women and walk away the next day.”
She rolled over, propping herself on her elbows. Her gaze narrowed. “Listen up, buddy. If you just want to see me again to soothe your good guy responsibility, forget it. I’m a big girl and I can handle it. We both wanted to have sex, and it was pretty damn awesome. I know we’re very different, and we didn’t plan on this for the long term. So, don’t get all high and mighty and play the martyr because of guilt. Got it?”
“You are such a pain in the ass.”
In one swift movement, he flipped her over to her back, pinning her wrists to the mattress. She blinked in astonishment at him. His sooty gaze held resolve, lust, and resignation. “You should know me better than that. I’m no damn martyr, and I’m honest. I happen to crave you, Charlotte, and it’s not going away anytime soon. I don’t intend to promise anything right now, except that I want to see you again. I enjoy your company, and I’d like to date. Is that acceptable?”
“That’s acceptable.” She paused. “Bolivar.”
His grin was pure male and sent a delicious tide of shivers down her spine. “Did you just term the sex we had pretty awesome?”
Her lips twitched. “Yes.”
“Have you ever had a spanking, Charlotte?”
Her eyes widened. “No!”
“Good. I’m going to enjoy this. A lot.”
He flipped her over so she was on all fours. He pressed one hand to her back, forcing her down and leaving her ass high in the air. The other arm wrapped underneath her stomach, pinning her in place for every depraved, filthy, dirty act he wanted to do to her.
Oh. My. God. She was so frickin’ turned on.
He seemed to know, chuckling low, teasing her with swipes of his finger through her wetness. He dropped kisses on the small of her back, moving downward, his tongue dancing over her sensitized skin. She trembled, aching for more, and when his teeth took a bite of her flesh, she moaned.
“You are so sexy,” he murmured. “Baby, are you on birth control?”
“Yes.”
“I can use another condom, but I’m clean and get tested regularly.”
She pushed her hips back unconsciously toward his deliciously wicked mouth. “I am, too.”
“No condom needed?”
“No.” She wriggled her ass in abandon. “For months I’ve been begging you to talk more. Does the bedroom suddenly make you chatty?”
A burning sting hit her ass. She jerked, her breath hissing out of her lungs. Holy shit. “That hurt!”
He did it again on the other cheek. Then again. Oh, she didn’t like this at all. She must not be into spanking and all that crap about it turning into pleasure was just that. Crap. She opened her mouth to tell him to stop right now, but then his fingers plunged into her pussy. Her swollen, wet folds clenched on him with fierceness, and suddenly, she was rollicking toward orgasm.
“Oh!”
His tone held a bite of laughter. “Like that, do you? God, you’re soaked. You’re so fucking sexy. I want to eat you alive.”
He gave her a few more slaps. She tried to jerk away, but he kept her in place with his firm grip, forcing her to take it. Just like before, the stinging burn turned into a hot pleasure, until she was desperate with need.
“Brady.”
Her voice broke on his name. He seemed to sense her raw urgency. Dragging her hips back, he kicked open her legs and thrust into her in one perfect, full stroke.
She buried her face in the pillow, swallowing her cries and grunts. He fucked her hard, with merciless strokes that dominated and controlled, and she loved every moment. The climax dragged her under hard and fast, tossing her around, lighting her body with explosive pleasure.
She slumped on the mattress, boneless and exhausted. Barely able to move, she heard him get up and pad back with a damp washcloth. He cleaned her gently, pressing tender kisses over her skin, then tucked her under the covers. Never before had she felt so treasured and taken care of after sex. The light flicked back off. Then he climbed into bed, pulling her into his embrace. With his scent in her nostrils, and his warm, hard body cradling hers, Charlotte fell asleep with a smile on her lips.