Chapter Seven
From Natalie’s rules for Foster Boyd, v1
Rule #2: Instead of engaging in public displays, try private venues. If you’re engaging in sexual activities, try to verify that the person isn’t going to take your picture…because intimate moments should remain just that. Intimate. Options to accomplish this would be inviting the lady in question to your house rather than going to a hotel where staff might decide that your picture is worth more than your tip. Verify that the person you’re with will withhold or not take pictures of you, even sneaky ones. This means do not fall asleep with them. Trust no one.
When she reentered the room, she’d stopped sniffling and appeared to have collected herself again. He couldn’t resist smiling, so he focused on Buffy, petting her silky black head until he knew he could control his expression.
“You’re watching a romantic comedy?” she asked before flopping on the couch next to him.
He was secure enough in his masculinity not to worry about the shock in her tone. “Yeah, I like them. What’s not to like? Don’t you?”
“Of course I like them. I just haven’t met a lot of men who admit to enjoying them. Want to fess up as to what you did yet?”
“Not particularly,” he answered with a smile. “But I followed your ten rules for being a well-behaved boy. I came here, and you have a doorman.”
“Yeah, well, I don’t think I wrote the rules with the intention of you using my doorman. There are probably a hundred or so buildings with doormen in the city, but you picked mine?” She shook her head, and he looked her over.
She was wearing flannel pants, but they weren’t new. They were clearly favorites, because they’d been washed so many times as to look paper-thin. Such a small barrier and so easily removed, if they were to come together. And the tank top? Also, so well worn as to be coming apart in places, which just made him want to stick a finger in the hole under her breast and rip, unwrapping her slowly, like a present.
The very best kind of present.
Her wild hair was gathered on top of her head in a messy bun, strands of it falling free to dangle around the delicate oval of her face, making her look more like some elegant work of art than an actual woman. The style again revealed the graceful curve of her throat, and he imagined he’d start there, given the opportunity. Dropping kisses like pearls around her throat until he nibbled on the sweet flesh of her earlobe.
She blinked at him, tilting her head slightly. “Earth to Foster. Come in, bajillionaire.”
“Bajillion isn’t a number,” he said.
She shrugged. “Welcome back, Foster Boyd. On our last episode, we learned you were being chased by the paparazzi. Care to explain why you came to my home with them on your tail?” She picked up the remote and held it toward him like a microphone.
He pushed it away with one hand, smiling. “No interviews. My image consultant is big on me checking with her and legal before I make statements these days.”
But he didn’t release her hand, holding it and the remote loosely.
She licked her lips. “You’re looking at me funny, and I’m running out of ways to ask why you came here.”
“I wanted to,” he admitted. Buffy stood, leaving his side to flop on the carpet nearer the television. The placement allowed her to keep an eye on him and the door, a typical thing for her to do when she felt relaxed.
“Do you realize this is the first time we’ve been alone together all week?” she said quickly. Nervously, as if she had to say something and those were the first words that popped in her head.
He was making her nervous. If he wasn’t wrong, it was because the connection between them was sizzling to life. Their gazes were locked, and he answered her softly, so as not to break the intimacy between them. “Yeah, I noticed. We’ve been busy.”
She had them doing all sorts of things in the public eye—from visiting hospitals and bringing gifts to sick children to going to benefit dinners rather than out to clubs, she’d kept both him and Connor running so many different directions that neither of them had time to do anything the press found worthy of their attention.
Good deeds, in Foster’s experience, didn’t make headlines like antics. People liked their news to be scandalous, not heartwarming. A sad commentary on human nature, but the facts so far as he’d seen.
He stroked his fingertips across the skin of her wrist, feeling her pulse jump under his touch. Hell, he wouldn’t mind a little scandal right about then. Being good really took it out of him.
She swallowed, wiggling her wrist a little so that he freed it. After she carefully replaced the remote on the coffee table, she turned more fully to face him. “Although I got why with the kiss, we probably shouldn’t have any other indiscretions between us. I get what you’re doing with your brother, but it crosses a line.”
“What if I want to cross a line?” he asked.
She shook her head, those mermaid locks dancing around her face like spun gold. “Could you be serious for a few minutes?”
“I’m being serious.” Over the past week, his enjoyment of her company only grew. She was beautiful, intelligent, and handled herself well, even when faced with two men not used to taking orders.
As she bit her lip, she seemed to come to a decision. “You said you guys never go back for seconds, right?”
He nodded, although he found himself thinking that once, with this particular woman, might not be enough. He was getting used to her being around. Used to the way she’d look at him from across the room and he’d get hard in an instant. Used to the way she made him laugh.
He wasn’t sure he could get enough of her in just one roll in the hay. Maybe two…three? Three at most.
“Okay, feel free to stop me if this is inappropriate, but I’m just going to say it. Correct me if I’m wrong, but there is some sexual tension between us.”
He nodded. If being so damn turned on that he could drill a hole in the wall with his dick was called tension, then sure. They had some sexual tension.
“What if we agreed to have sex?” She looked away from him, fiddling with her collar while she spoke. “Since you don’t go back for seconds, it might ease things between us so that we can focus on the goal. Which would be getting your brother unfocused, so you can take over Boyd Cosmetics.”
He leaned back on her couch, considering her words carefully. “We’d have to act like I’m still pursuing you, although I’d already succeeded in having you,” he pointed out.
She moved to stand. “You’re right. Dumb idea. Pretend I didn’t even say that.”
He captured her wrist and used her momentum to spin her back around. “I didn’t say no, I was just explaining the parameters.” Controlling her movement, he dropped her onto his lap. In seconds, she’d turned to face him, straddling him with those gorgeous legs of hers.
Her hands braced on his chest, and he bit his lip, so damn turned on already that he wasn’t sure he could maintain control when she moved. To him, control was everything.
“Parameters? So, this is going to be a diversion from the plan, outside of the realm of our client and consultant relationship, just both of us having a good time?” she asked.
He didn’t know how he was supposed to focus on the conversation with a bundle of beautiful woman in his lap, so he just nodded.
“And no seconds,” she said. “So, when this is done, we’re done with this whole thing. Just sex, relieve the tension, and moving on with our day?”
He palmed her ass, squeezing the soft flesh once before meeting her gaze. “No seconds,” he agreed.
“Okay, then, like, let’s do this thing.”
It wasn’t the sexiest thing a woman had ever said to him, but it was enough for him. He leaned forward, looking right into her gorgeous too-blue eyes. This close, he saw they weren’t contacts. Just the most vibrant color he’d ever seen before.
“Close your eyes,” he whispered.
She did, her breath shuddering out on a sigh. “You’re bossy,” she commented.
“Not yet, but we’ll get there,” he promised. With his tongue, he touched her neck. She tasted sweet, like cotton candy laced with liquor. Delving his fingers into that wild mane, he tilted her head so that he had better access, and she melted into his arms a bit so that he could nibble kisses and licks up her throat. When he reached her earlobe, he nibbled gently, listening as she let out a little trembling laugh. “You like that?” he whispered.
“There are other regions of my body that would appreciate your attentions even more, but it’s a start,” she replied.
He smiled against her throat, before moving to catch her lips in a kiss. Just like before, the very taste of her made him a little drunk. The kiss dragged out, until she was wriggling in his lap a little, the bump of her hot little body against his a tease of where things could go. And quickly. He wasn’t sure he could make himself take the time with her that she deserved.
That he wanted.
Backing out of the kiss, he whispered, “You, on the couch.”
She leaped up to obey, and he adjusted himself before standing. “You may give the orders when it comes to image, Natalie, but even then…I’m in charge.”
She didn’t argue, just looked up at him as if asking if he was sure with her gaze. With her seated on the couch, he took a moment to just look at her. For while they were together, he refused to think about why they’d met or anything outside of the magic they could make together, and if he had his way, she would be equally focused.
She stared back at him. “I know,” she said. “I’m not exactly screaming sex appeal right now.”
He smiled slowly, kneeling in front of her. “I guess that would depend on what turns you on. For instance, this hole…”
He traced it with his fingertip, amused when she blushed.
“I wasn’t expecting company,” she explained. “I can change…”
“Do you care about this shirt?” he asked her.
She shook her head. “Just old pajamas, honestly. I—”
He didn’t wait for her to finish. All he needed to know was that it didn’t have some unknown sentimental value to her. Sticking his finger in the hole, he touched her flesh, just there, under her breast. She wasn’t wearing a bra.
The lack of impediment to his touch had him sucking in a breath, and it was all her scent. She smelled even better than she looked, and he wanted to rub himself against her, just to feel all that smooth skin against his own. He didn’t look away, keeping his eyes locked on the gorgeous azure of her gaze.
“Just checking,” he said, before ripping the fabric so that her nipple was revealed. Leaning forward, he sucked the ripe little berry into his lips, enjoying the way the wrinkled flesh puckered and tightened under his lips. Nipping gently, he rolled his eyes up to her face to see the flush had trailed down her neck and her lips were parted in surprise.
“Oh,” she whispered, looking surprised. “Here I was thinking that hole made me unfuckable.”
He released the breast from his mouth, palming the flesh through the hole he created. Taking her lips again, he stroked his tongue against hers until she let out another one of those little moans that just flat out did it for him. Breaking the kiss, he rubbed his nose against hers.
“You’re eminently fuckable,” he assured her.
“Thank god,” she whispered. But whatever else she might have said was cut off by a gasp as he again suckled at her sweet breast. His other hand was busy, squeezing the opposite breast while occasionally twisting the nipple. Her hips jerked moments before her legs spread to allow him to get closer.
“Lift your hips,” he commanded, backing up a little. Her eyes were glazed with lust as she obeyed. Grasping the waistband of the flannel, he eased them off her body, leaving her only in lacy white panties and the ripped tank top on the couch. Something about her in broad daylight, flushed with desire, and mostly naked, made him pause. He wanted to remember her, just like this. The one breast revealed, the other nipple so hard that it poked out the fabric of her shirt. Those white panties against the dark gray of the couch… All of it was so damned erotic, he had to adjust himself again.
But he wanted to give her pleasure first. The idea was novel. Usually, he wanted to please his partners, but not at the risk of his own delayed gratification. With Natalie?
He wanted to see her. He wanted to watch her control shred and hear her moaning his name. He needed to see it, more than he wanted his next breath.
With that in mind, he crawled closer before capturing both her wrists. He placed a kiss on both before lifting her arms above her head. “I want you to lean back. Scoot your hips forward on to the edge of the couch. Yes, like that. Now, keep your arms here.” He placed them crossed above her head and directed her hand to hold the opposite wrist. “Stay, just like that.”
Being in control flat out did it for him, and this particular woman made him crave discipline and restraint. He wanted to sway her, to possess her, to be her every breath.
“Or what?” she asked, those magical eyes of hers half lidded and almost drowsy with needs.
“Or I’ll stop.” If he could. He hoped he’d have the control to remember his own self-imposed rule.
The position put her breasts high, stretched her torso, and arched her hips toward him. He wanted to whimper, the look of her was so damn sexy. Kissing her again, he froze when her hands caught his hair. He backed away from her with his hands out in the universal sign for peace and one brow arched in question. In this case, the growl she released in return was anything but peaceful.
“I told you not to move,” he reminded her.
She sighed, looking grumpy, but repositioned herself. “Fine.”
Flattening his palm on her collarbone, he looked down at her, bumping his hips into hers once as a tease. “Do not move,” he said again.
“Gotcha, Captain Bossypants. This better be worth it.”
He smiled slowly. Challenge accepted.
He dragged his palm down the middle of her body, between those two tempting breasts and across her stomach. The muscles there fluttered as she sucked in a breath, and he arched a brow at her.
“I didn’t move,” she said.
“Remember you said that,” he answered.
The flattened palm had reached the juncture of her thighs, and he pushed a bit harder there, grinding the heel of his hand against her mons. Her eyes fluttered closed and her hips jerked, but he didn’t point it out. It was unconscious on her part, obvious in the way her breath had quickened and the flush spread. With his other hand, he caught the edge of the tear in her shirt, dragging the hole wider until both of her breasts were revealed to him. They heaved as he ground his palm against the juncture of her thighs, just teasing at the release he could offer her. Winding her tension higher.
As he bent to take one of those wrinkled nipples into his mouth, he slipped a single fingertip under the now moist panties, tracing it gently across her slit until she whispered his name.
So soft, he wouldn’t have heard it if he wasn’t pressed to her chest. Just this little involuntary whisper of, “Foster.”
He jerked his hips against her, unable to resist just one grind of pleasure for them both.
Her knuckles were white on one hand, she was clutching her wrist so hard. Her lip was captured between her teeth, and her breath hissed out. So little, yet she was already craving the release he was working her toward.
“Natalie,” he answered, but he wasn’t even sure if she could hear him.
Unable to resist the temptation any longer, he worked her panties down her legs, kissing her inner thigh and ankle as he skimmed his hands down her skin. She was so soft, so damn gorgeous, he wasn’t sure where he was finding the control to continue teasing them both.
But he still had reserve, and he wanted to taste her. Wanted to see her unravel for him before he took her.
He nibbled his way back up her body, palming her breasts and tweaking her nipples hard to make her jerk against him before he spread her more fully, bending her legs back a bit before he ordered, “Grab your knees.”
She obeyed, her breath trembling out of her, and he again paused to appreciate the view. She was spread for him, panting as he teased her gently with a single fingertip. When he rasped it against her swollen clit, her head twisted and she moaned for him. Her messy hair—how was he supposed to look at that untamed hair again without remembering her like this, spread and blind with passion? He fluttered the fingertip faster to watch as she jerked into his touch. It was good, he could tell, but not enough. Not yet.
She needed his kiss. And he was only too happy to provide it.
Licking first in one long slurp, he moved from her hole to her clit in a fast and teasing motion.
“Foster,” she cried out again, but her eyes were closed and her knuckles clutching her own knees as if to hold herself together. “Please.”
“Beg me,” he responded, breathing the words against her wet and aching slit, spread wide to his view by the position he’d chosen.
“No fucking way,” she answered.
He suckled her clit gently, a tempting movement meant to show her what he could do, if she simply asked nicely. His craving for her submission only grew by the moment. He wet his own fingertip before sliding it inside her, loving the way she clutched around him and the muscles clenched at the digit. Rocking it gently, he whispered again, “Beg me, Natalie.” It wasn’t a question, it was a command. He needed the words from her. Needed her as lost in desire as he felt. And she pleased him by answering quickly.
“Fuck,” she groaned, managing to jerk her hips into his touch. “Please, Foster. Please, I’m so damn close. Please, please, please…” With each utterance of the word, he swiveled his tongue against her clit. After the third, once it sounded like a chant, he suckled the little bud into his teeth and drove another finger inside her. Rocking his fingers in time with the flicks of his tongue, he didn’t stop when her legs snapped down, capturing his head like a clamp. She rode against his face, completely lost to her pleasure, bucking against him so hard he had to focus to stay with her. Breathing through his nose, he jerked his fingers harder, not stopping the fluttering of his tongue until her legs twitched. Her hoarse cry filled the room, and he lapped at the cream between her legs, contented. Tremors still shook her body, little aftershocks of the orgasm he’d given her. If she was beautiful normally, she was a fucking goddess in her surrender.
He was so fucking hard, his dick literally ached with lust. He wanted her, and planned to flip her over, pressing her body into the couch while he drove into her sweaty and boneless body.
But the knock at the door stopped him, freezing him like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. His brother’s voice dashed the sensual haze over his vision.
“Natalie? Open up. We have a problem.”