CHAPTER
FOUR
COOPER hadn’t come to this wedding expecting anything. He certainly hadn’t planned on finding himself buried inside a woman who was as puzzling as she was intriguing. He swallowed hard, his cock throbbing, as he watched her squirm beneath him, making soft cries of distress and arousal. Her lack of pretension excited him, made him mad to tease her, then please her, alternately.
This wasn’t how he’d seen this going down. He had expected a bossy, dominant tug-of-war between himself and Charity, tearing clothes and sex against the wall. That would have been fun. But this was better.
He started to move, pulling almost all the way out of her, before sinking back into her moist heat. Hair falling in his eyes, he concentrated on gauging her reaction, testing how fast she wanted him, how deep, a slow slide or a quick thrust, wanting to make sure she eked out every bit of pleasure from him she could. That mattered to him, that it was worth her time to be with him. He was going to enjoy it, no matter what, that was clear given the way he was already straining to hold back an orgasm, his balls tight, mouth thick with desire.
But there was something about her eyes . . . something that spoke of trust.
It shouldn’t be there.
There was absolutely no reason for it, no way he had earned it.
Yet it was, and so he felt compelled to live up to her obvious expectations.
It brought out a tenderness in him he hadn’t expected to feel. Not for the balls-to-the-wall woman who had put him in his place on the dance floor.
Her breathing was getting anxious, her fingers digging into his back. He could feel the tight squeeze of her body onto his cock, forcing his eyes closed for a split second before he regained control. She was so close to an orgasm he thrust harder, amazed that she could come again so quickly. Amazed, and damn grateful. There was nothing sexier than a woman who got off on his cock.
Her eyes were glassy, the skin above her chest flushed a bright pink, her breasts giving a hot little bounce with each movement he made. Her leg moved restlessly across his ass, and her head shifted back and forth. Cooper shifted his fingers into her hair and held her still. Those blue eyes widened in surprise as he leaned down, wanting to kiss her.
But right as he was about to brush his lips over hers, she came with a soft cry.
He swallowed it, sweeping his tongue inside her mouth as she arched toward him in an explosive orgasm. It sent him into his own release as he stopped holding back and finished strong, his forehead resting on hers.
“Oh, God,” she breathed.
“Just call me Cooper,” he said with a grin, lifting his head to snag a lungful of air and shake his hair back off his face.
She gave a soft laugh, which caused her inner muscles to clamp onto him a little tighter.
“Damn,” he groaned. Kissing her softly, he pulled out and rolled onto his back, wiping his forehead before carefully rolling the condom off and tossing it on the wrapper on the nightstand.
“Why did you have condoms in the nightstand?” she asked, shifting onto her side, her fingers brushing over his lip.
It didn’t sound accusatory, just curious. Immediately she lowered her eyelashes. “Sorry, that was tacky.”
He shrugged. It didn’t offend him. “I think I have a touch of OCD. I unpack when I travel because I don’t like living out of a suitcase. Maybe it comes from being on the road so much. There were condoms in my travel bag, so, well, they went into the nightstand.”
“It probably saves time in the long run. Twenty minutes to unpack, no time spent digging around.”
“Exactly.” He was stupidly pleased that she got it. His friends tended to rib him about his quirks and lack of clutter.
“I’m the same way. I like everything to have a place. My sister is the total opposite. She can never find anything and her room looks like a unit on Storage Wars.”
That surprised him. “Harley is that messy? For some reason I didn’t expect that.” Though he wasn’t sure why. It wasn’t like he knew either one of them, really.
“Oh!” She pursed her lips. “Yeah. I mean, I guess I shouldn’t criticize. To each their own, right?”
Her reaction was a little puzzling, but Cooper yawned, the whiskey and the sex catching up with him. He pulled a blanket up over their naked bodies and wrapped an arm around Charity. “Uh-huh.”
Her breasts were pushed up against him, her lush body warm, her hair tickling his shoulder. Cooper felt his eyelids growing heavy, so he squeezed her arm and murmured, “Kiss me.”
* * *
HARLEY did as Cooper asked, her throat tight with fear as she leaned over and gave him a quick kiss. His eyes were closed and his breathing was evening out. He was seconds from sleep and she was wide awake. God, she couldn’t believe she had started talking about her sister. She’d been so relaxed, so satisfied that she had just spoken without thinking.
That had almost been a complete and total disaster. Naked was not the time to tell someone you were a big fat liar and not the person they thought you were. There probably wasn’t any good time for that, but this certainly was not the optimal time.
It hadn’t seemed like such a big deal when she had been flirting with Cooper in the bar at the wedding reception. Now, it felt . . . oppressive. Wrong. It shattered the easy contentment she’d immediately had after he pulled out of her. The sex had been amazing. Very easy, very much focused on her. Nothing kinky or unnerving, like Charity’s last lover, who had asked for a rim job five minutes into the proceedings. Harley could not have dealt with that kind of expectation.
Cooper wasn’t selfish or rough. He was nice, thoughtful. Sexy.
He’d made her feel important. Special.
She stared up at the ceiling, his arm heavy on hers. She didn’t want to regret this. But neither could she hang around and pretend nothing was wrong. If she stayed, she had to tell him the truth. Or she could leave. There were no other options. She couldn’t stay and sleep in his arms, then wake up together, share a room service breakfast, have some morning sex, and not feel like a total jerk if she kept her secret. If she told him, likely he would just ask her to leave. It was that simple.
Reasoning with herself, she turned and studied him sleeping. She’d gotten what she had wanted. More than she had expected. All she had wanted was the fantasy sprung to life for just a brief moment in time. It wasn’t like a man like Cooper Brickman would want to date her, as herself or as Charity. It was a wedding hookup, nothing more, and it had been a damn good one.
It was her little secret, something to look back on and smile.
She couldn’t stay and not be honest, and she couldn’t stay and want something more. Which she would. She knew herself well enough to know that the longer she was with him, the more deep kisses and charming smiles he gave her, the more she was going to wish that it could be beyond one night. She was going to wish she truly were Cinderella with her Prince Charming, and that was really just ludicrous.
Wanting that was about as senseless as a screen door on a submarine.
It felt like a decision, so she eased herself out from under Cooper’s arm, heart racing at the thought of him waking up. She wanted to touch him one last time, but she settled for one final glance at his strong jaw, his messy hair, his amazing muscular chest exposed above the blanket. Crawling out of the bed, she grabbed her panties and stepped into them. She grabbed the bra but didn’t bother to put it on. It would take too much wiggling. It was a challenge to zip her dress back up, but she managed to get it almost the entire way up.
Her purse was in the living room, and she checked inside to make sure she had her room key. Next to her lipstick was a tiny box of chocolates that served as an elegant wedding favor. She tried to shove her bra in, but it wouldn’t fit with the chocolates. Abandoning the bra wasn’t practical, but it was easy to replace and she wanted the tiny box as a reminder of the night, and she was not about to stroll down the hotel hallway with her bra in her hand. There was a writing desk and she dropped her bra there. On the pad of paper she wrote in her left-slanting bubbly handwriting, “Thanks for a great time.” Since she couldn’t sign her name, she put a smiley face instead.
Lame? Probably. But she couldn’t just sneak out without saying something. Yet she couldn’t give him a phone number without telling him she wasn’t Charity, and who was to say he would want to call her anyway? What they had done had clearly been intended to be a one-night stand, and this way she was leaving it as is. Uncomplicated.
Padding barefoot across the room, she slipped out into the hall and put her shoes back on as she eased the door shut carefully behind her. With a sigh, she headed back to her shared room.
Charity was awake, watching TV, still wearing Harley’s dress under the covers of her bed.
“Hey,” Harley said. “How did the rest of the reception go?”
“It was fine,” Charity said, looking like it was anything but. “It turns out that no matter what dress I’m wearing, Jeff Sterling just doesn’t like me. Hard truth, but there it is.”
“Oh, I’m sorry.” Harley tossed her purse on the dresser and bent over to pull off her shoes. “Maybe he’s dating someone. Or maybe he prefers women his own age.”
Charity rolled her eyes. “Please. What man prefers women his own age? None, that’s who. But whatever. How was your night?”
“It was . . . good.” If that was the right word for mind-blowing sex with the man you’d only seen on TV before. “We went out on the terrace and talked.”
“You talked?” Her twin’s eyebrows shot up. “You had a hot guy in a remote location and you talked? Please tell me you at least made out with him.”
For some reason, Harley shook her head. “Not really. Just a few kisses.” Why the hell was she lying to her sister?
Maybe because Charity would spend the next hour grilling her for every last detail and she didn’t want to share. She wanted it to be private. “I don’t think he is really attracted to me that way.”
Which was true. He wasn’t attracted to her, Harley. He was attracted to Charity. Ack. What a mess. But she didn’t want to think about it that way. It was what it was—a few short hours of amazing.
“Well, I think this was an epic fail.” Charity clicked the TV off and pulled the covers up to her chin. “I’m going to sleep.”
“In my dress?” Harley went into the bathroom to change into her PJs.
“Yes.”
Charity was obviously disappointed and determined to be obstinate, so Harley dropped it. The dress could be dry-cleaned, and on the list of things she gave a shit about, it wasn’t in the top ten.
“You didn’t tell him I was you, did you?” Charity called from the room.
Harley paused and poked her head out the door. “No. Why?” She could still feel the weight of Cooper over her body, his erection sliding in and out. Did Charity suspect anything?
“Because since nothing happened it’s pointless to tell either one of them. We’ll just look like idiots. Night.” Charity flopped over toward the window.
Right. Idiots.
* * *
COOPER turned his head to check two things when he woke up. One, if he was hungover. Two, if he was alone.
The answer was yes to both.
He groaned and forced himself to sit up, his mouth dry. He knew from experience that the longer he lingered in bed, the worse his head would pound. He needed coffee pronto. In the bathroom, he looked for signs that Charity had been there at all, but there were none. She must have taken off the minute he had fallen asleep.
Or maybe he had imagined the whole thing. He had been pretty damn buzzed.
But he didn’t usually have dreams that vivid. He distinctly recalled the feel of her smooth skin, the soft look in her glassy eyes, the way he had felt oddly protective of her and intent on driving her wild. She had come three times and he remembered the taste, touch, and sound of each one.
No, sex with Charity was real. It had happened. She had just left him in bed and taken off without a good-bye.
That was a bit of a lowering realization. He hadn’t had that happen often in the last fifteen years. In fact, it had never happened. His celebrity status shielded him from rejection and a lot of dating awkwardness because most women wanted to stick around to please him. He had never felt that so obviously as he did strolling into the living room of his elegant suite naked, face swollen, mouth dry, in search of the coffeemaker, all alone.
It was not a good feeling. It made him wonder if she hadn’t enjoyed herself as much as he’d thought.
Charity’s bra was lying on the desk. He remembered putting it on the nightstand in the bedroom, so he wasn’t sure why it would be out in the living room. Running a finger over the black lace, he debated calling her room in the inn to tell her she’d forgotten it. It seemed a little weird to call to tell her he had her bra, but then again, he thought most women seemed possessive about their undergarments. The shit was expensive, he was well aware, having bought more than his fair share of it over the years.
Then he saw the note lying next to it. She must have set the bra down to write, then forgotten it. It just said, “Thanks for a great time.” Smiley face. That was it? No phone number? No xo? No signature?
Wow.
That felt like a complete and total dismissal.
Grabbing the bra, Cooper went and fumbled with the coffeemaker. He didn’t understand how it worked and after two frustrated minutes, he pounded his fist on the top of it and gave up, thoroughly irritated.
Charity had left, leaving her bra like some kind of sexual Cinderella.
His phone was ringing urgently next to his room key. It was his housekeeper, Rosa.
“Yeah?” he said, not caring that he sounded grumpy. He was grumpy. He wanted coffee.
“A llama is here. In your house. Your sister ordered it.”
“What? A llama? Are you fucking kidding me?” How was that even possible?
“Mary Jane says you told her she could have a pet. Why would you let her buy a llama?”
Every inch of his head and face throbbed. “I meant a dog. A cat. A goddamn gerbil. Jesus fucking Christ, how could this happen?”
The minute the words were out of his mouth, he knew he had offended Rosa, a devout Catholic. She sucked in her breath and he could practically feel the air around her stirring as she gave the sign of the cross. “Don’t you take the name of the Lord in vain, Mr. Big Shot, or I’ll quit. I may quit anyway. There’s a llama in the mudroom! No es bueno.”
Cooper rubbed his forehead with the heel of his hand. “I’m sorry for swearing, Rosa. Can you have MJ put it in the garage? And just keep the door closed until I get there. I’ll call you when I’m on the road. Thanks, Rosa. I’m sorry for the inconvenience.” Don’t quit. Please, God, don’t let her quit.
Her response was to say something in Spanish he didn’t understand and hang up on him. Cooper picked up the hotel phone and ordered coffee and eggs. They would be there by the time he was out of the shower. Then he called Eve Monroe. She didn’t pick up, but he left her a message.
“Hey, Eve, can you give me a call back? I want the number for your friend Harley. I need a nanny for MJ now before she ends up doing something illegal.” Something needed to change and he wanted to stabilize his sister’s life before she totally went off the rails.
Cooper wanted Charity’s number, too, but he wasn’t going to ask for it. If she wanted him to have it, she would have written it down for him. No, she was clearly satisfied with just one night, and he was going to have to be, too.
Which felt really unsatisfying.