by M. S. Parker
I expected the kiss this time, but I wasn't prepared for the intensity that came with it. He pulled me closer, parted my lips with his tongue. I could feel the firm definition of his muscles under my palms, feel the strength in his arms. The men I'd dated in the past hadn't been weak, but I'd never been with anyone able to make me feel small.
His teeth scraped my bottom lip, and I moaned. My hands fisted in his shirt, and I had an overwhelming urge to tear it off. I wanted hands on skin, wanted to feel all of him.
Dumb. Monumentally stupid.
I grabbed for the hem of his shirt and pulled it up. I caught the flash of surprise that crossed his face, but by the time I tossed his shirt to the floor, it was replaced by lust. I shivered as his dark gaze ran over me, and then his hands were on me, stripping off my shirt and pants, leaving me in only my plain cotton bra and panties.
“Karis.”
My name came out in a growl.
I ran my hands down his chest, felt his muscles twitch under my touch. I hooked my fingers into the belt loop of his jeans and pulled as I stood. I wanted this, no matter the consequences, but I wanted it to be worth it.
“Bedroom,” I said.
He stood and looked down at me, his expression serious. “Are you sure about this?”
I didn't even hesitate. “I've been wanting this since forever.”
“Me too.” He brushed a few stray curls back from my face.
I took his hand, leading him back to my bedroom. I didn't look at him as I climbed onto my bed, needing the extra moment to prepare myself for what was about to happen. When I finally turned, I saw Bron standing next to my bed, watching me. I propped myself up on my elbows, willing myself not to be self-conscious.
“Are you okay?” I asked, wondering if he was having second thoughts. Just because I'd wanted him all these years didn't mean the feeling was mutual.
He knelt next to the bed and reached out to run his hands up my legs to my knees. A surprised squeak escaped as he pulled me to him. His hands settled on my hips, and his eyes met mine.
“I've been imagining this moment since I was thirteen,” he confessed. “Wondering what you would look like. Feel like.”
His fingers traced patterns on my skin, making it hard to concentrate. Then he leaned down and pressed his lips against the inside of my thigh.
“How you would taste.”
Heat coiled in my stomach. “And?” The word was breathless.
“Better than anything I could've ever dreamed.”
He yanked off my panties in one quick motion and hooked my legs over his shoulders. I cried out the moment his tongue touched me, and his hands reached for mine. My back arched as my fingers threaded between his, his tongue dancing across my skin. I'd had men go down on me before, but never with such enthusiasm.
And skill.
Damn, he had skill.
I'd never been a vocal lover, but as my first orgasm washed over me, I couldn't stop saying his name. At least, not until he silenced me by covering my mouth with his. I tasted myself on his tongue and dug my nails into his shoulders, pulling him closer. His hands were between us, under my back, and then my bra was gone. His hands covered my breasts even as his cock rubbed against my wet slit, a promise of things to come. I writhed under the firm weight of his body, tongues dueling for dominance as his thumbs and fingers played with my nipples. He shifted his hips, rubbing against my still throbbing clit.
I slid my hands down his back to his firm ass, squeezed, and felt Bron's body jerk against mine.
He released my mouth, lifting his head enough so that his eyes could meet mine. I wanted to look away from the emotions I saw swimming there, but I couldn't. I couldn't even close my eyes as he began to slide inside. A whimper slipped from between my lips as my body stretched, molded itself around him. I could feel him throbbing, feel every inch of him.
When I first decided that I wanted this to happen, I'd expected something fast, passionate. The sort of rough and tumble that came with long-held desire. What I hadn't imagined was that once he was inside me, he'd take it slow. Every thrust was deep, rubbing against all the places with the most exquisite patience. And he watched me, his lips a breath away from mine.
“Karis,” he murmured. “My Karis.”
His fingers brushed my hair away from my face, ran along my cheekbones, my jaw. His touch almost seemed too gentle for the strength vibrating from his body. I wrapped my legs around his waist, moved my body up toward his.
“Come for me.”
His voice was rough, and I knew he was close. That I had brought him to this point.
“Come for me, baby.”
He nipped at my jaw, and the sting was just what I needed. I arched against him, pulling him deep inside me. Pleasure pulsed over me, through me. He groaned, a low, guttural sound that spiked something primal, making me press my mouth against his shoulder, worry at the skin with my teeth. His body stiffened as he came, and I clung to him, letting myself forget everything that would come, letting myself be in the moment. Here. With him.
My Bron.
The story continues in Con Man Book 4. Turn the page to keep reading.
Con Man Book 4
Chapter One
Karis
Shit. Double fucking shit.
From the moment awareness first came to me, I remembered what happened, what I'd done.
We’d done.
The pleasant throbbing between my legs would've been enough, but he was still next to me, his arm draped across my naked body. The bed wasn't very large, and the two of us were both much taller than average, so it made for a tight sleeping space.
I forced myself to look at him for a moment. Take in the tousled bronze hair, the flushed cheeks. The yards of gorgeous skin and muscles.
The bruise I'd left on his shoulder.
I closed my eyes for a moment, pushing back the panic. I took a slow breath and then worked on getting out from under Bron's arm without waking him. When I managed it, I resisted the urge to look at him again, to appreciate his long, lean body.
It wasn't until I turned on the shower that I woke up enough to realize that I had additional evidence of what happened last night.
I ran a hand through my snarled curls and cursed under my breath. We hadn't used a damned condom. I knew I couldn't get pregnant. I'd been on the pill for years. And I'd always been careful before so I knew I didn't have anything. But Bron...
My stomach twisted as I remembered the incident that had prompted the late Leticia Backman to come report her new “artist friend” to the FBI. She’d caught her gay stray fucking her maid.
Twisting became churning and I fought to keep myself from throwing up.
What had I done?
* * *
When I walked out of the bathroom nearly half an hour later, Bron was sitting up in the bed, arms folded behind his head. Thankfully, the covers were up to his waist so I didn't have to face the embarrassment of him being naked. Me in a towel and him under a sheet was bad enough.
“Good morning,” he said with a goofy smile.
In that moment, he looked more like the boy I'd known more than a decade ago.
“Good morning.” The words came out flat. I'd spent most of my time in the shower crying, realizing that I'd royally screwed up. Now, I felt strangely empty.
“Listen, Karis, about last night,” he started.
“Last night was a mistake,” I finished for him, the statement firm but not harsh.
“I-I agree,” he said.
All of the light went out of his beautiful cerulean eyes, and I watched the shields go back into place. In a matter of seconds, he'd gone from the boy I'd had a crush on, the man I'd made lo–had sex with last night, to the smooth, cool criminal I'd arrested.
And that was all the reminder I needed of why this was a bad idea.
“Last night could jeopardize my whole career,” I said, my tone matter-of-fact. “And it could royally screw up your case.”
“Right.”
The look on his face told me that he hadn’t thought about that second part yet. Sleeping with one of the federal agents who had brought him in wouldn’t do him any favors in court. My future wasn’t the only one in trouble here. Surely he understood that.
I stood there for a moment before grabbing some clothes and heading back into the bathroom to dress. Waking up next to him hadn't been awful. The sex had been everything I'd always imagined it would be.
I just wished the aftermath could've been different.
But like everything else in our lives, we couldn't change where we were, who we were. Both of us had been through tragedies in our lives, but we'd taken such different paths. He was a criminal and I was a federal agent. It was worse than oil and water. No matter how much we'd meant to each other in the past, what happened last night could never happen again.
When I stepped out of the bathroom, this time fully dressed, Bron was waiting, a sheet wrapped around his waist. Blood rushed to my cheeks, and I quickly looked away.
“Mind if I catch a shower?”
I nodded, unsure if I was relieved or upset that he sounded so normal. I'd thought my words had hurt him, but now I wondered if it had all been an act. If he'd been trying to charm me and I'd thwarted his plans.
“It’s all yours,” I said, gesturing towards the bathroom.
As he walked past me, I reminded myself that he was a con man. Manipulating people was his most basic tactic and skill. Everything he did depended on his ability to read someone and use it to his advantage. I wanted to believe that he hadn’t actually changed, that he was still the same person I used to play with every day. I'd known all of that going into our current situation, but somehow I’d allowed myself to forget, perhaps allowed myself to be manipulated by a masterful con man. He’d tricked me into trusting him, and if I kept going down this road with him, he was going to cost me my job. He could even use what happened between us as a way out of trouble. At the same time, he knew that I had no recourse here. There was no way I could report his misconduct without revealing my own.
Shit. Was I being held hostage by having taken him into my personal custody? My bed?
The shower stopped, and I tensed. I poured myself another coffee while I waited for him to come out, hoping the familiar warmth would help calm my nerves.
He walked into the kitchen wearing only a towel around his waist, which completely counteracted any positive effects the coffee might've had.
“All done,” he said with a smile.
“Feel better?” So, this was it. Our conversation was being reduced to small talk.
“Much better,” he said. He pulled the towel from around his waist and began drying his hair.
I narrowed my eyes at him, careful to keep them on his smug expression instead of his gorgeous body.
“What?” He shrugged.
“I know what you’re doing.” I sipped my coffee and walked out of the kitchen, heading to my room before I could give into the temptation...again.
“What am I doing?” He called after me, a note of playfulness in the question.
“Our relationship needs to remain professional, and that’s final, Bron.” I closed my bedroom door and leaned back on it.
“What the hell?” His voice came through the bedroom door muffled. “My clothes are in there.”
“Dammit,” I muttered as I grabbed his pants from the floor. I opened the door a crack and threw the jeans out. “You could have gotten dressed in the bathroom.”
I sat on my bed and sipped my coffee while Bron was hopefully getting dressed. What the hell were we going to do until Monday? It was Sunday, so despite still having work to do on the case, we didn’t have to go into the office. I had tried to get him to enjoy a trip to the museum with me yesterday, but I didn't want to risk anything like that again.
After a few minutes of silence in the other room, there was a knock at my door. “Hey, I’m dressed,” he said as he opened my bedroom door and poked his head in. “But I really do need to get some other stuff to wear.”
Maybe that's what we could do, I thought. Go to a store and get him some new clothes. I glanced at him as he grabbed his shirt from the floor and pulled it on. Even with his fine body hidden, he was still a temptation, and I needed to make sure we both kept busy enough that I didn't risk being compromised again.
“All right,” I said, standing up. “Then that's where we'll go first.”
“What?” He looked confused.
Confused was good. That meant he was off-balance, not in control. “We're going to get you some clothes.”
“We should probably get groceries too.”
Now it was my turn to be confused.
He gave me that infuriating grin again. “No way am I eating fast food and take-out until we snag Uaine. I'll cook.”
I would've argued if he hadn't been so damn good at it. So clothes first, then food. That should keep us busy for at least a couple hours. After that, I had no clue what we were going to do.
Chapter Two
Bron
When Karis had pulled strings to get me released into her custody, I'd hoped it'd been because my adolescent crush had been mutual. Growing up, the only thing she'd ever been able to hide from me had been the way she'd felt about me. I'd never doubted her friendship, but I'd never known if she'd ever felt anything more than that.
Our first kiss was almost as much a surprise to me as I know it must have been to her. Then she'd fucking arrested me, and I thought she must hate my criminal guts. Then I'd caught glimpses of something more than the federal agent she'd become. Hints that maybe, just maybe, her feelings for me weren't gone.
I'd made her dinner yesterday not to try to manipulate her or con her, but to thank her for everything she'd done, risking her career to get me a deal, taking me into her personal custody. I'd never expected for it to lead to a personal conversation about her past, or to a kiss. I'd definitely been caught off-guard by the progression to the bedroom.
The sex had been amazing, better than I'd imagined, and a part of me had almost hoped that it was the beginning of so much more. Even though that's what I'd been hoping for, I hadn't been surprised when she'd said it was a mistake.
I tried to play it off as the same, act like it'd been a spur-of-the-moment sort of thing. It was the right thing to do. I couldn't let her risk her job because we'd had a moment of weakness. Besides, for all I knew, the sex had only been that good because of all the pent-up desire we'd accumulated over the years. Now that the fantasies had been consummated, we had closure and could move on.
Which apparently meant spending the morning buying me clothes and then going grocery shopping. While on the subway, I'd asked why I couldn't just have the clothes I'd packed for my flight since they had been with me when I was arrested. The carry-on, at least. My checked suitcase was probably landing in Sweden sometime soon. Karis had then informed me that my bag was in evidence lock-up, which meant all I had in the world were the clothes on my back.
“The FBI is going to reimburse you for all this, right?” I asked as Karis took the receipt from the clerk. We hadn't gone to the high-end stores where I usually shopped, but buying a little over a week's worth of clothes wasn't cheap.
“They will.”
She didn't look at me when she answered. She hadn't really looked at me at all this morning. At first, I'd thought it was because she didn't want to be tempted to sleep with me again, but now I was wondering if she was embarrassed at having fucked a criminal.
I couldn't keep the bitterness out of my thoughts. I'd always known who I was, what I was, and I'd never really felt bad about it until now. Partly because I didn't want Karis to get in trouble for having slept with me, but mostly because I was ashamed of what I'd become.
She deserved better than me.
I kept telling myself that as we moved on to the local farmer's market. I reminded myself that I didn't need a relationship. Didn't want one. While we picked out vegetables and fruit in silence, I trie
d to think about the future, about what I'd do once I got my deal. Where I'd go. Because I sure as hell wasn't sticking around here unless it was mandated by the deal. Maybe not even then. Somewhere in Europe would be nice. Far away from all of this.
From her.
When we got back to the apartment, the quiet between us had turned into something awkward, full of tension and guilt. We needed to clear our heads, burn off all the negativity.
“Well, I don’t know about you,” I said, putting away the last of the food we'd bought, “but I'd really enjoy doing something...physical.” Shit. I hadn't meant for it to sound like that.
“I’ve got an idea,” she said after a moment of silence. “But no funny business,” she added, her finger pointing at me.
“Me?” I tried for my most innocent expression.
She rolled her eyes. “We're going to the gym, which means I can't follow you everywhere, so I'm trusting you to not make me regret this.”
Like she did with what happened last night. She didn't say those words, and maybe she wasn't thinking them, but I knew it was the truth. She regretted having slept with me.
I gave one of my fake laughs and gestured to my ankle. “It's not like you could really lose me anyway. Not even if you wanted to.”
She glared at me, clearly not in the mood to play. “Get dressed,” she said as she disappeared into her bedroom.
I grabbed some of my new clothes and went into the bathroom. By the time I came out, she was waiting, ready to go. Arousal spiked sharp and strong when I took in her yoga pants and sports bra. She had exactly the right build to pull that outfit off, and she didn't even seem to notice.
“So, is there a gym here in the building?” I asked as we stepped out into the hallway.
“There is.” She locked her door and turned to walk down the hall. “But I’ve got a membership to a gym downtown. That’s where I went yesterday. It’s nicer than the one here, and I can bring a guest with me any time as part of my membership. Plus, I have my piece and my badge in my bag, so I prefer somewhere with a good locker.” She tilted her head to indicate the bag she carried over her shoulder.
