CHAPTER SIX
IT WAS LATE Friday evening when Brett unlocked his door and walked into his home. It had been almost a week since they’d begun their takeover of Daniels International, almost a week since Rebecca had come back into his life—in the flesh. It had been a long seven days, and work on their DI bid and their many other contracts had kept him in the office, in meetings, buried in literal stacks of paperwork, which had caused him to spend every night in his office. He’d gotten away only long enough to take in a few quick workouts and working lunches.
Rebecca was a formidable opponent, and she’d proved to work just as hard to hold on to her company as he was working to take it from her. She had somehow managed to keep many shareholders on board, which was a true feat, considering the price Collins/Fischer had offered. Brett figured that he and Alex would have to up the price soon.
He threw his shoulder bag and jacket on a stool in the kitchen and walked into the living room, the motion-sensor lights turning on as he went. Everything in his home was just as he’d left it when he’d last been here. The place was neat, tidy, sleek, modern—he barely spent enough time in his home to clutter it up.
He flopped down on his couch. Even though he was exhausted, a particular energy coursed through his veins. He’d told his friends he would find out what Rebecca’s game was once and for all, and turn it against her. But he hadn’t been able to find any time to do that. Not that he thought she’d even see him, considering how busy she must be, trying to save her own company, and the way they’d parted earlier that week.
Despite not having seen her for days, his thoughts seemed to turn to her without hesitation. He could still feel her, smell her, and a fresh wave of desire came over him. He tried to fight it off, remembering that Rebecca was probably trying to play him, distract him from his plans, but that didn’t stop his dick from getting hard in his pants.
God, he’d fucked her, but that ache pulsed throughout him, and he couldn’t quell it. He dropped his hand to his lap and palmed his stiff length through the material of his pants. He sighed and leaned back on the couch, figuring that he might as well just jerk off and go to bed. But as he ran his hand over himself, it had no effect on his need, so he pulled out his cell phone from his pocket. He would need a little assistance.
He opened his contacts and scanned through the list of women whose numbers he’d collected. Women with whom he’d previously enjoyed some wild nights. Kristy, Alexa, Samantha, Bianca... He let out a frustrated sigh when he realized that none of them would do. There was only one woman who consumed his mind, and she certainly hadn’t given him her cell number.
Wanting to get to the bottom of all the questions he had about her to find a way to weaken her position, he opened the internet browser on his phone, and in the search bar he typed “Rebecca Daniels.” Her picture, a professional headshot, filled the screen, and he lingered over it. She looked confident, composed. Shiny blond hair and radiant blue eyes. But he couldn’t help but see her sensual side. The side of her that got off on being fingered at a party. Her social media accounts were also listed, and he found her Facebook page. Should he message her? He clicked on the private messaging app, but he paused in hesitation before he typed, then dashed off a quick message and sent it before he could hesitate.
I want to see you.
It was true. While he tried to tell himself that it was strictly business, it wasn’t. Part of him wanted to see her, to throw her off her game. Getting her out of the way would definitely make his life easier. But as his dick ached, and his libido took over, he knew those weren’t the only reasons he wanted to see her.
He could tell that she’d seen the message, and the three telltale dots showed that she was writing a message.
Why?
Call me a masochist.
You aren’t the only one. Why are you still awake?
I just got home. I can’t sleep.
Me neither. I haven’t been home long myself.
He paused, knowing she was working just as hard as he was to stay cool, before he continued typing. Why don’t we get a late dinner? We can talk.
It’s late.
I know.
Christ, it sounded like he was begging. Brett never begged.
Just to talk?
I swear. He looked at his phone. There was no movement on the screen. Then the three dots danced in the message window. He held his breath, stilled, feeling like a statue as he waited for her reply.
Where do you want to go?
Just give me a minute to make a phone call. I know a place.
* * *
Rebecca parked her car outside Thalia, the restaurant Brett had selected. The parking lot was empty, and she wondered if the place was even open. It was eleven at night—definitely late for dinner.
A black Porsche, shiny under the lights of the parking lot, pulled in after her. It parked and Brett got out. He was still wearing a suit, but it was slightly rumpled and she knew it must have been the one he’d been wearing all day.
The corners of his lips turned upward a little. A small, imperceptible movement, but she remained cautious. “I don’t think it’s open,” she called to him as he neared.
He looked up at the building and frowned, making a show of checking his watch. “No. I don’t suppose it is.” But he continued walking to the door. He pulled it open and waited for her to walk ahead of him.
The restaurant was completely empty, and a server appeared before them. “Mr. Collins, Ms. Daniels, thank you for joining us this evening,” the man said with a smile.
Rebecca wasn’t sure how happy he must be with the latecomers. She hoped they weren’t putting any of the staff out by showing up at this hour.
“Thanks for having a table for us,” she replied with a gracious smile. Looking up at Brett as the waiter showed them to their table, she wondered what kind of pull he had with the owner to accommodate them so late. But she shouldn’t have been surprised. Brett’s influence in the city was strong. They were led to a plush round booth in a far corner. The high back almost completely secluded them from the rest of the empty restaurant.
She slid in, Brett sat across from her and the waiter placed two menus in front of them before taking their drink order—Malbec for her, soda water with basil and lime for Brett, an order the waiter already seemed to know.
They didn’t speak until the server returned and put their drinks in front of them. Rebecca studied Brett instead of her menu. She still didn’t understand what she was doing there. Why had he messaged her? And why had she been so willing to meet him? They hadn’t exactly parted on good terms the last time she’d seen him. She blamed it on fatigue. It had been a long week for her, fighting to keep her company away from the strong hands of the man across the table from her.
He turned back to her and smiled. The gesture didn’t quite reach his eyes, and they sat in silence for a moment, just looking at each other as light music played throughout the empty restaurant.
Before long, his scrutiny proved to be too much and she looked away first, taking in their surroundings before drinking a sip of wine. “I’m kind of surprised that you were able to get a table, you know, in a closed restaurant and all,” she said over the rim of her wineglass.
“You probably shouldn’t be.” He smirked.
“This is a nice place. I’ve heard great things about it.”
He looked past her, seemingly surveying the rest of the dining room before sipping his water. “Thanks.”
“Of course. You own this place, too?”
“Brett.” Rebecca heard a woman call from behind them. She craned her neck over the high back of the booth to see who had called out to him, and she saw Alana approach the table.
He smiled. “Hey, I didn’t know you were still here.”
“Yeah, I’m heading out now. I just wanted to make sure that Nick and Josh were okay with staying late for you.”
“We appreciate it. Thank you for arranging it.”
“Anytime. You just make sure you tip them well for staying however long after close you’ll be keeping them.”
“Of course,” Brett agreed.
Rebecca was relieved that they both would make sure their staff was taken care of. She’d spent summers working in service jobs. Her father had insisted that she get a taste of the “real work that keeps the country going.”
Alana turned to face her. “Rebecca, it’s great seeing you around again. It’s too bad we didn’t get a chance to speak yet. How are you?”
“I’m fantastic,” she replied. Alana hadn’t seemed to change at all from when they were younger. She was always so kind, and Rebecca had really liked her. “And you?”
“So good,” she said. “Everything is great but extremely busy.”
“I was just telling Brett how amazing this place is. It’s a beautiful restaurant. I can’t imagine what it must be like when it’s actually open,” she said, sliding her eyes across the table at Brett.
Alana laughed. “You’re kind. Thank you. This place really is my pride and joy. It was the first one we opened.” She looked around the room with affection and put her hand on top of the booth above Brett’s head. “She’s my baby. It was nice seeing you, but I should go and leave you guys alone.” Turning to Brett, she said, “Want to do brunch tomorrow?”
“I can’t,” he told her. “I’m having my biweekly brunch with my parents tomorrow.”
She nodded. “Okay. Tell them I said hi.” She turned to Rebecca. “Would you like to get together tomorrow, Rebecca? We can catch up.”
Rebecca caught Brett’s frown at Alana’s invitation but ignored him. Just because she and Brett were at odds didn’t mean that she was going to let him stop her from forging relationships with her old friends. “Yeah, that sounds great,” she said, pulling her card out of her purse. “My cell number is on there. Just text me when you get a chance, and we can arrange a time and place.”
“Awesome,” she said, turning back to the direction of the kitchen. “Okay, I really have to go now. Have a great dinner, guys. The porterhouse is a dream tonight, and Josh is a master with beef,” she said with a wink before disappearing across the restaurant.
Left alone in silence again, Rebecca turned back to Brett. “Okay, Brett, what are we doing here?”
“I’m thinking about getting the porterhouse,” he said, pushing his menu aside.
She rolled her eyes at him. “Why did you ask me to come here?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. I don’t feel good about the way we left things the other night. I’ve been thinking about it all week.”
She nodded. “It feels like we have some things to discuss.” Although she had no idea of where to start.
The waiter returned and, as per Alana’s suggestion, they both ordered the porterhouse.
When they were alone again, she played with the stem of her wineglass for several moments, trying to form the words, before she looked up at him. “So what should we talk about?”
“I’m sorry I fucked you the other night in my office.”
She sat up straight. It wasn’t exactly the conversation starter she was anticipating. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me. It was great, but it shouldn’t have happened. Because since then, I’ve done nothing but think about how amazing it is to be buried deeply inside you, hear the way you sound when you come. It’s driving me to distraction.”
She felt heat rise over her chest to her cheeks. She took a mouthful of wine to quench her parched throat. She hadn’t expected him to be so up-front about it. “Brett...” she breathed.
“Did you know that you still make the same sounds when you come?”
She blinked rapidly and looked around. The waiter was across the room, but in the quiet stillness of the restaurant, there was no way he hadn’t heard what Brett had just said. Stunned for words, she tried her damnedest to form a coherent sentence, to tell him to go to hell, to leave her alone, anything. But she’d already lost. The heat in his darkened eyes burned her as much as his words. She gulped her wine, and with her throat constricting, she almost choked on it. “I, um...” Her words stuttered out.
The waiter, Nick, reappeared. “Would you like another glass of wine?” he asked, eyeing her now-empty glass.
She hadn’t realized that she’d completely downed the glass. “Yes, please.” When Nick left the table, she took the opportunity to watch Brett. She looked up and saw that he hadn’t looked away from her. She needed a break from him, just for a minute. “You know, this looks great, but I have to excuse myself for a moment. I need to wash my hands.” She pushed away from the table and stood and thankfully stopped her legs from wobbling as she walked away, shoulders square, head held high.
Inside the bathroom, she blew out a heavy breath and stared at her reflection in the mirror. “You know what he’s doing, don’t you?” she asked her reflection. “He’s trying to get even with you, seduce you. To distract you from saving your company.” She had to fight him, but she wasn’t sure how when just his words sent her insides into a complete tizzy.
She narrowed her eyes at herself. “But it’s never going to happen,” she told herself. “You didn’t come this far to let some guy take it all away from you. Two can play at that game.”
* * *
Brett watched Rebecca walk away, the sway of her ass underneath her skirt forcing him to stifle a groan. What he’d intended to be a seduction of distraction had quickly turned against him. He was just as affected, just as turned on as he was trying to make her, and as he willed away the growing erection behind his zipper, he pulled out his phone and saw a missed call from Alex. He returned the call, and after several rings, his friend picked up.
“Hey, what’s up?” Brett asked him.
“I know it’s Friday night, but something came up.”
“What is it?” Brett’s voice lowered. “Is something wrong?”
“It’s not the end of the world yet, but I wanted to let you know that there’s someone else making a run for shares in DI.”
“What do you mean?”
“We didn’t notice it until today. I don’t know who these guys are, but they’ve got a lot more shares now than they did when we checked last week.”
“Who is it?”
He could hear Alex shifting papers over the line. “A holding company called RMD. They’re currently in possession of sixteen percent, not a lot, but it’s up from ten two weeks ago. And they’ve put out a standing order for any available shares.”
“That’s interesting,” Brett said. “Who’s RMD?”
“I don’t know. I couldn’t find any information on them at all. I’ve got our guys on it, but they won’t know anything until tomorrow at the earliest, if they find anything at all.”
Well, fuck. They hadn’t counted on that. “So, with this new buyer on the scene, the pressure is definitely on Rebecca right now.”
“Not only her, but us, too.”
“Yeah, do you think she can hold on to power?”
“We just have to outlast her and whoever RMD is.”
“Well, after tonight, maybe she won’t have the focus to hold on to power,” Brett said slowly.
“What, you’re going to fuck her senseless again?”
“I’ll do whatever I have to do. But I will gladly take this bullet for the team.” He raised his eyes and saw that Rebecca had silently made her way back to the table. “I’ve got to go. Let’s talk tomorrow.” He put his phone away and smiled at her. “All good?” he asked, wondering how much she’d heard.
“Yeah,” she said. Her face was emotionless and impassive. She slid gracefully into the booth and, surprising him, she moved in farther and sat next to him instead of in the place she’d once occupied across from him. She reached across the table for her wineglass, leaning into him more than she needed. He inhaled, her scent driving him mad, filling his lungs as his body stirred in response.
Rebecca pivoted her upper body so that she faced him. “You look tired, Brett,” she purred, before taking a sip and eyeing him over the rim of her glass. “You getting enough sleep?”
“Don’t worry about me,” he told her. In fact, he hadn’t been getting enough sleep. But as he watched her take another sip of wine, he didn’t care if he ever slept again. How he wished that he was the glass that was pressed between her lips. Swallowing back the groan that threatened to pass through his lips, he cleared his throat and took a large mouthful of water.
“You okay?” she asked, bringing her hand to his chest to toy with the top button of his shirt.
“Yeah,” he managed. “Couldn’t be better.”
“Listen, Brett,” she said, her voice husky. “We might have different priorities when it comes to business, but we were always good together, weren’t we? Like when we would meet up in our special spot in the business library?” She loosened his top button, pushed the material open and swirled her fingers in the hair between his pecs.
Her touch was welcome, but it caused his heartbeat to ramp up. He chuckled. “I know what you’re doing,” he warned her, grasping her lithe fingers in his.
“And what’s that?” she asked under her breath, her eyes wide and innocent.
“You’re using sex to get me to call off the takeover.”
“I thought you said it was a buyout,” she murmured before pulling back. “And do you really think I’d do something like that?”
In response, he dropped his hand to her thigh and squeezed. She parted her legs ever so slightly, allowing him better access to the smooth, butter-soft skin of her inner thigh.
When his fingers traveled inward, the tips circling against her skin, her lips parted, and for a moment she looked lost and distracted. But she moved past it and her eyes found his, and they were sharp. “To be honest, Brett, I don’t think I’m the only one who’s playing that game, am I?”
His fingertips found the silk of her panties, and her eyelids fluttered close. “You aren’t.” He slipped his fingers underneath and found her wet.
Rebecca pushed her head against the back of the booth. “So maybe we should just cut the crap for tonight and admit why we’re both here.”
“Sounds good to me,” he said, his voice rough, and he grasped her waist and pulled her onto his lap so her thighs straddled his hips. There was barely enough room between his front and the table, but Rebecca fitted there, pressed against him. His hands smoothed up her back and he cupped her cheek and the nape of her neck. He looked at her, and they shared a powerful moment, but he pulled her to him, drawing her mouth to his.
His tongue snaked against her lips, and she opened to him. Their tongues swirled together. He searched her mouth, taking in her completely intoxicating flavor. When her arms encircled his neck, he released his hold on her face and palmed her breasts, squeezing as she arched against him and moaned into his mouth. He went lower, and his fingers were under her blouse, cupping her over her bra.
Breaking glass startled them, and they pulled apart. Brett’s hand was still up her shirt when they turned their heads to the bar of the restaurant to see Nick standing there, looking at them. Brett had forgotten all about the waiter and the chef who were still in the building, and almost nothing would have stopped him from fucking Rebecca in the booth.
Nick was flushed, probably from the show that Brett and Rebecca had put on. Brett knew the man was a professional and could be counted on to be discreet, but that didn’t mean he should be a witness to the show. Nick looked at them. “Can I offer either of you another drink? The food will be out momentarily,” he said, not coming closer to the table, still trying to do his job but also giving them privacy.
Brett turned back to Rebecca, who was still on his lap, wedged between his chest and the table. “Are you hungry?” he asked, barely able to squeeze the words from his chest.
She swiveled her hips against him, the friction sending a powerful bolt of need through his body, all the way to his limbs. “I’m starving.”
He grinned, knowing she wasn’t talking about food. “Why don’t we just get out of here?” She nodded, and he helped her off his lap and said to the waiter, “Nick, thank you for everything, but we’re going to head out. Can we take it to go?”
“Very good, sir.”
Nick left the dining room and came back a few minutes later with the food wrapped—Brett knew they didn’t normally offer takeout, so he appreciated it all the more.
Brett stood, fished out his wallet and pulled out several hundred-dollar bills, and passed them over to Nick. “We appreciate you guys sticking around for us, but we’ve kept you long enough.” He grabbed the food with one hand, wrapped his arm low around Rebecca’s waist and ushered her to the door. “Let’s go.”
* * *
When Brett escorted her out of the restaurant with a firm hand on her lower back, she could feel his power, and the tension, just from the placement of his fingertips. And even though she was determined to play and win his game, the minute he touched her, she had to fight for every intelligible thought. She looked at her BMW parked on one end of the parking lot, and then at the black Porsche 911 he’d arrived in. He was steering her in the direction of his.
“My car is here,” she told him.
“You can get it in the morning.”
In the morning? There was no doubt that they would be spending most of the night together, but she never imagined he would want her to stay. She nodded as he unlocked the car with a beep, and he opened the passenger-side door.
“Cool car,” she said as he settled into the seat next to her.
“Thanks,” he said. “I know it’s a bit flashy, but I like it. It’s fast.”
“If you can’t be flashy in Vegas, then where?” she said, flattening her hands over the sleek leather of the console. “I think it’s sexy.”
“And this is a city built on sex,” he said, starting the ignition. He smoothly pulled out of the parking lot and started down the road.
Struck by a memory, she giggled. When he turned a questioning look in her direction, she continued to laugh. “Remember the semester we got stuck as partners working together for that big operations assignment?” They’d spent so many hours and late nights working on the semester-long project, that soon the pressure and proximity, not to mention the constant head butting and arguing, had gotten to them. It marked the beginning of their fling.
“Yeah. That course almost kicked my ass.”
“It was tough. It’s a good thing I was there to keep you focused.”
He chuckled. “Focused? If I recall correctly, the only thing we were focused on was getting naked.”
“How times have changed,” she muttered ironically, reaching for him. She put her hand on his thigh and smiled at the way his jaw flexed in the dim light of the dashboard. “Do you remember the night we stayed late in the business library and you offered to give me a ride home and you almost crashed your dad’s Murciélago?” Her fingers danced upward, and she found him hard. She gripped him, and he tensed, laughing roughly.
“I remember taking his new Lamborghini without asking him, and I remember driving too fast. But my dick in your mouth was the thing that almost made me crash it.” He chuckled.
It was a stupid thing they’d done. And she remembered how she’d jostled about the front of the car when he had to swerve off the road to avoid hitting a car that had stopped in front of them. Neither of them, nor the car, had been hurt, but it had been reckless and he’d driven her home in silence. But she still wanted to be reckless. There was something about Brett that made her want to be reckless. She looked down in his lap and wondered if the memory of road head had caused the distinct bulge in his lap. Bringing it up had had the desired effect. “We could have been killed,” she whispered. “You were driving so fast.”
“But that would have been quite a way to go, don’t you agree?”
“Do you think your driving’s improved any since that night?”
He slid his eyes over to her, and his grip tightened on the steering wheel. “I believe it has.”
She didn’t respond, but she reached across and dropped her hand into his lap and palmed his semihard dick, turning it into a rigid staff. “Want to give it another try?”
* * *
He almost veered off the road again, and she smirked when he fought to regain control of the car. He coughed to clear his throat. Hell, if he’d been turned on at the start of this conversation, with just the memory of that night, he was raring to go now. Her hand on his thigh was enough to make him almost burst through his pants.
She licked her lips, a cool move that made him exhale roughly, and she leaned over the console. “Want me to do something about that?” Her voice was low, sultry, smoky. And the sound traveled straight to his dick. He couldn’t remember another woman who had been able to make his engine go from zero to ninety in one second flat.
Do I want her to? Was he fucking crazy? Of course he did. He grunted in response and swallowed roughly.
She gripped him, stroking him through the material of his gray pants. He shuddered, which caused her to smile, and he had to focus all of his attention on staying on the road. He pressed down on the accelerator, desperate not to lose control and crash the car.
Rebecca unbuckled her seat belt and leaned over the console. Putting her lips to his neck, she kissed him lightly on the pulse point under his jaw where the collar of his shirt had been opened. She traced his throat in light kisses, in a trail to the open neck of his shirt. Her hands made quick work of his belt, unsnapped his pants and slowly lowered his zipper.
“Rebecca...” He gave her a half-hearted warning. “Maybe we shouldn’t... I’m driving.”
“So drive,” she challenged him, looking up at him. “Don’t mind me.”
He moaned when she reached into his boxers and pulled out his hard cock. He glanced down and he could already see the glistening drop of precum that hung to the tip. He focused on the road in front of him—and staying on it.
She pulled her hands away and shifted in her seat so that she was kneeling in the small low bucket seat of his sports car. Her ass was in the air, almost pushed against the window, and he couldn’t help himself from removing one white-knuckle hand from the wheel to smooth it down the curve of her spine to her round rear. He gripped it hard and she squealed. He laughed and leaned his head against the back of his seat. Leaning fully over the center console between them, she took him in her hands again. Circling him in her little fist, she pumped several times, each one making him moan in need. But he didn’t want her hands. He put a guiding hand on the back of her head and lightly pushed her down, telling her exactly what he wanted, but not using enough force that she couldn’t resist if she didn’t want to indulge him. “Your mouth,” he whispered.
Rebecca moaned in agreement as her lips parted over the head of his dick, her tongue swirling around the crown. He glanced down, but just watching the illicit act was almost enough to make him lose it, so he threw his head back against the headrest and watched the road, noting that they were almost to her family house—he knew she’d be living there now that she was back and her father had passed. He came upon a red light and stopped the car. The tinting on his windows kept the people in neighboring cars from being able to see the lewd activity that was happening only a couple of feet away, but even if they could see, he wouldn’t care. Hell, he would have rented out the arena at MGM Grand and sold tickets to the show for how goddamn good it felt.
Her head lowered, taking him deeper into her mouth until he felt himself hitting the back of her throat. And then she still went deeper. Neat trick, he thought, amazed by the view of her head in his lap, her lips resting at the root of his cock, and he wondered where she’d learned it. The traffic signal turned green and he peeled off. The lights of the city passed in front of him in long streaks of color. It felt like he was intoxicated, driving drunk. For someone who lived his life in such tight control, he felt like a wild man, and Rebecca brought that out in him.
His hand rested on the nape of her neck, his fingers curling into her hair, feeling the muscles in her mouth and throat cradling him, pressing against him, sucking, drawing every ounce of pleasure from him. He moaned again. His hand smoothed over her shoulders, then back down the material of her sensible knee-length dress, coming to rest on her ass. As long as he didn’t need to shift gears, he could keep one hand on the wheel and the other on her. He squeezed his fist in her hair as she pulled back up over him, withdrawing him from her mouth with a quiet pop. With her tongue, she licked him in several long strokes before taking him fully into her mouth again. Rebecca went to work in earnest, her head bobbing up and down. Overcome with the feeling of desire, he quickened his breathing, and from the way his balls tightened, he knew he was close.
“Becca,” he breathed. “I’m going to come. Oh, shit. Rebecca, you have to stop.”
“Mmm.” She hummed in response, her mouth currently too full to speak.
Thankfully, he recognized her old house, and he pulled into the driveway, just as his orgasm overtook him. With one final squeeze of her lips and a stroke of her tongue, he came with a shout and slammed the brakes. He flexed his hips upward, coming in her mouth with heavy spurts of hard liquid. The motion of the muscles in her throat told him she’d swallowed every drop of him as he spasmed with release, and he groaned in relief as he wiped the thin layer of sweat from his forehead.
His grip on the back of her neck loosened, and she sat up, coyly swiping her finger along the edge of her mouth before closing her lips over a cherry-red fingernail.
He’d just come but he needed her again, and he turned off the engine and moved to get out of the car.
“Wait, where are you going?” she asked him.
“Inside with you. We’re not done here yet.”
“No, Brett, we are.”
He blinked. “But what about you?”
“Don’t worry about me,” she said coolly. “I’ve got a vibrator if I need it.”
“Rebecca...” he implored her, trying to get the image of her using the toy on herself out of his head. “Let me come in. I’ll show you a good time.”
She shook her head, dismissing him. “Don’t worry about it. I never want to feel like I owe you anything. But I want you to know something. That will be the last thing you get from me.” With a slick smile, she got out of the car and walked into her house without looking back.
* * *
Once inside, Rebecca could finally take a breath. She walked up the stairs to her bedroom and wasted no time stripping out of her dress, bra, stockings and drenched panties, and she put on a short silk robe. A needy, unsatisfied mess, she went back downstairs and grabbed a bottle of red wine from the bar, opened it and poured, half filling the glass. She pulled back and shrugged before pouring more, filling the glass to the rim.
With shaking hands, she brought the glass to her lips and gulped. But it was no use. She could still taste him over the profile of the expensive wine. The upper hand she believed that she had with Brett was short-lived, as she felt a white-hot need for him course through her body. Based on what she’d overheard from Brett’s side of the conversation he’d had on his phone, and everything she knew about Brett’s desire to win, she knew that he had invited her out to seduce her, distract her, and her attempts to turn the tables had left him breathless. But she knew she would have to take care of her own need, and soon; and she’d have to every other time she thought of him.
She headed back up the stairs to bed but got only halfway there before the doorbell rang. Stopping, she turned and went to the door. She looked through the peephole and saw Brett standing on the other side. He stood in profile, looking off to the distance, his hands on his hips. He looked frustrated, annoyed, and when he looked back to the door, it was as if he could look right into her eyes through the peephole, and she was surprised that the heat didn’t melt the glass.
She pulled open the door and he was inside in an instant, his arms around her, his fingers grasping, holding her tighter, his mouth hot and crushing against hers. His kiss might have been violent if it hadn’t been so full of passion. His lips were hard and demanding against hers, parting hers, his tongue delving deeply into her mouth, finding her tongue, sliding and stroking against hers. She let a moan escape from her throat and into his mouth, and he swallowed the sound and held her tighter, lifting her so that her feet didn’t touch the floor.
He tore his mouth away from hers and attacked her throat with similar vigor, dragging his teeth along the sensitive skin of her exposed throat. He only then seemed to realize that she was wearing nothing but the small robe, and he pulled the material aside, exposing her shoulder and, in the process, loosening the knot of the belt, opening the robe and revealing her breasts.
“Brett,” she breathed, unable to say much else.
“Don’t say anything,” he said. “I just want one more night with you.”
“Okay.” One more night. She could do that. It was what she wanted, too. One night together, and then they could go back to their regular lives as competitors, rivals, enemies. Just one more night of passion. It had been a long time promised, and nothing was going to stop her. Not family or business loyalty, not her common sense. She wanted one more night with Brett. Then she could put it behind her, and she could save her family’s company from his greedy hands.
But, oh, those hands...
Brett’s eyes flamed and, still holding her aloft, he ducked his head and captured the rosy bud of her nipple between his lips, sucking, nibbling, sending bolts of pleasure shooting straight to her wanting sex. He stayed with her. His tongue swirled over her nipple and she clutched his head, her fingers fisting into his hair. She cried out and wrapped her legs around his waist, shamelessly pushing her pussy against him, and she moaned again, frustrated that rubbing against him did nothing to alleviate the sharp need within her.
With a groan, Brett pulled his head away from her breast and looked up at her. “Bedroom?”
“Upstairs,” she breathed. “At the end of the hall.”
Still carrying her, he walked up the staircase to the second floor, all the while placing kisses on her neck and shoulders, licking, nipping her skin with his teeth, tasting her.
When he crossed the threshold into her room, she reached out and turned on the light. The dimmer cast a golden glow across the room, and he saw her bed, huge, high, pristine with a white duvet. “Do you realize that this is the first time I’ll fuck you on a bed?”
“Does it not work for you?”
“Hell, no. This works very well.”
* * *
Brett let Rebecca slide down to the floor, and when she stood, he leaned over her and took her mouth with his again. He ripped the robe from Rebecca’s body, let it fall. While their tongues and lips danced together, she busied her fingers, tackling his shirt buttons. Impatient, he pushed her hands away and opened it himself. She sat back on the middle of the bed and watched him as he pulled his open shirt from the waist of his pants. In the center of her bed, her hands fisted in the white covering as she watched him undo his belt and whip it from the loops of his pants. He caught the rise and fall of her chest as she refused to take her eyes from his form. Feeling cocky, he paused at the top button of his pants. “Like what you see?” he asked with a smile.
In response, Rebecca placed her palms on her thighs and slid them upward, spreading her legs and revealing herself to him. His smile dropped when one hand toyed with her small triangle of light hair and her fingers dipped between her glistening folds. “You like what you see?”
A growl rose from his chest and he fumbled with his zipper without looking away from her. As she played with herself, he quickly shucked his pants and kicked out of them before joining her in the center of the bed.
Brett knelt between her thighs, leaning over her, and grasped her wrist. His hand circling hers, he brought her fingers to his lips. He drew them inside, sucking them into his mouth. Her flavor was sweet and potent on his tongue, and he wanted more. But before he went further, he took another look at her. Rebecca was beautiful, disheveled. A flush covered her chest, and she watched him through heavy eyelids. His dick nudged against her inner thigh, so close to that delicious pussy. It would be so easy to pull her close and take her right then and there.
He wanted it. Needed it. But first, he needed to taste her. He eyed her as he went lower, dragging his tongue down her trim stomach, until he reached the apex of her thighs, bringing his face only a breath away from her glistening pussy.
Using two fingers, he parted her sweet lips, diving into her heat. She was molten, wet and ready. Her breath was shallow and she stilled, waiting for his next move. The small, swollen bud of her clit called out to him, and he obliged, moving over her, flattening his tongue against it as it throbbed.
She cried out softly as he touched it, staying still for a moment before flicking it again with the tip of his tongue. Rebecca bucked her hips against his mouth. And he parted his lips and closed them over her. His eyes closed in delicious satisfaction. He tasted her, and she was sweeter than he remembered. He heard her moans as he washed his tongue over her again and again.
Rebecca’s hands found his head, and she pulled at his hair. It was painful, but he barely felt it. He was so intent on bringing her pleasure and taking his own by feasting from her that he barely noticed how she pulled on him. He used his fingers to spread her moisture around her, and from the way she yelled out and thrust her hips at him, he knew that she was close to coming. He grinned to himself and put one finger inside her; she tightened around him, and then he inserted another. It was all she needed. She arched and bucked against him, calling out as her orgasm racked through her body. He held her until her movements quieted and she regained her breath.
With a smug smile, he climbed back over her. His mouth still wet with her, he kissed her, knowing that she could taste herself on his lips. His tongue invaded her mouth, driving against hers. “You ready for more?”
“There’s more?”
“You better believe it.” He looked over at the bedside table. “Condoms in there?” She nodded. He broke away from her and reached inside to pluck out a condom, then ripped it open with his teeth. He shucked his boxers, and when his cock sprang free, her eyes widened. With a chuckle, he fisted his length and gave a couple of lazy pumps.
She licked her lips, and not taking his eyes from those plump lips, he rolled the latex over his length. Then, grabbing her by the waist, Brett quickly, roughly flipped her over onto her stomach and pulled her hips up so that she knelt in front of him but kept her face in her pillow. With his knee, he nudged the inside of her smooth thigh, and she parted her legs obediently. He smiled and drew back his hand, bringing it across her ass with a loud slap. She jumped at the contact, and he smiled. He reached out and cupped her near-hairless pussy with his hand. He could feel her still-swollen flesh and her moisture on his fingers.
He resumed his position behind her, and without wasting any time, he pushed into her. He was rough, too rough, too demanding. But her groans of pleasure told him she needed this, too. He took everything from her that he wanted. But he didn’t think that he would ever get enough. His fingers dug into her flesh and she fisted the blankets as his hips pistoned back and forth, in and out of her. She met each of his thrusts with a passion and ferocity that matched his own.
Through his loud grunts and groans, he could hear her cries. They were wild, barely human, just animals, and the only thing he could think about was bringing them both to release. He looked to his left and saw their reflection in the large mirror of her closet door. He saw each of his muscles tensing as he moved in and out of her, and he saw the arch of her back and the lines of her body. He watched in the mirror as he raised his hand and smacked her ass again. Rebecca screamed again, but she sped up her motions, bringing her hips back to meet his. He put a hand on her hip, another on her shoulder, and continued to drive into her. The hand on her hip dropped lower and to the front, and he found her clit. He spread her moisture around her, and he pulled her up so that her back, slick with sweat, was flush with his chest. Her cries were loud, growing louder by the second, and he knew she was close. He was, too. He kept pace until she stiffened in his arms and cried out her release, and then he let himself go. He came with a rush as his orgasm hit him, and he emptied inside her with a loud groan before they both tumbled onto the mattress.
Brett tried to catch his breath. “Fuck,” he whispered. Being with Rebecca again was more incredible than he remembered. She was as beautiful as she’d been five years ago. He watched her splayed out next to him, coming down from her orgasm, and his mind flashed to that night in college when he’d talked about high school and his issues with addiction. Something had been freed within him that night, and he’d told her. But instead of making him feel at peace, it had opened him up to vulnerability. And vulnerability would be his downfall.
He didn’t have time for analyzing his past, or the fact that after she’d gone off to New York, he’d been in the city and almost looked her up. But he hadn’t. He had to focus on the present. And in the present, he had work to do.
The haze of his orgasm had cleared. Reality came crashing back. He’d had a moment of weakness, and now that his libido and his dick had been sufficiently taken care of, it was time to look after his livelihood. That was enough of a distraction. Thoughts of work overtook him as he remembered everything that was at stake. He tensed; he had to get out of there. He had to force her away from him. It was the only way.
He pushed himself up from the bed and disposed of the condom in a nearby trash can. “That was great,” he said, looking away from her, gathering his clothes. He pulled on his boxers and followed up with his pants. “Thanks.”
“You’re leaving?” she asked him, sitting up on the bed.
“Yeah, you didn’t expect me to stick around and cuddle, did you?” he asked, buttoning his shirt.
She paused. Her eyebrows pinched together and a frown formed on her lips as she watched him get dressed. “I guess not.”
“Becca—”
“Rebecca,” she corrected him, a hard edge to her voice. She crossed her arms across her perfect breasts.
“Rebecca,” he said. “Let’s not make this any more than it is, okay? Why complicate things?” He looked away from her, because if he didn’t, he knew he’d be gone. That he would slide back into bed with her. But he had to force himself to remember that he wasn’t there to play nice. He wasn’t her boyfriend. He’d gone back to her house to fulfill a biological urge, and that was it. They couldn’t have whatever it was they’d had before. Not after everything that had happened between them.
Her smile was humorless. “No, you’re right. This—whatever this is—shouldn’t be any more complicated than it already is.”
“It was fun, though, wasn’t it? But I’ve got to get back home. Get some sleep. I’ve got an early rise tomorrow.”
“Fine. Go.”
He hesitated, for just a moment. “Is this going to be a big deal?” he asked.
“No, of course not,” she said, standing. She grasped her robe and put it on, tightening the belt. “It’s just sex. Not like we haven’t done it before.” She shrugged and walked into the en suite bathroom. “You know your way out.”