Untamed and Irresistable

by Rosie Miller

  He looked at her intently. “Someone attractive, someone I …”

  He put his wine down and she did the same.

  The moment seemed to last forever. Then he was holding her tight, his arms round her and his mouth on hers. He kissed her hungrily, his tongue straight into her mouth, searching for hers. His body was pressed hard and tight against hers and she could feel his stiff rod against her belly.

  She responded, her tongue flicking at his, her hips grinding back into him. ‘Stop, stop, he’s a client, and he might be crazy too,’ said a little voice in her brain. But her body seemed to have taken over and she had to keep kissing him.

  She ran her hands over his shoulders. He was so muscular, his body strong and tense against hers.

  He pulled back and looked at her. “I shouldn’t be doing this,” he said.

  “Me neither.”

  “We should stop.”

  “Yes, definitely. We should stop this right now.”

  But he didn’t loosen his arms around her and she didn’t either.

  “I will stop. Just one more thing,” she said and raised her mouth to his and kissed him again.

  The kiss lasted for ever, and she knew she wanted more.

  His hips were still grinding into her and she could feel how much he wanted her.

  She reached up and started to undo the buttons on his shirt.

  His hand shot out and gripped hers, pulling it away.

  She laughed at his reaction. “Sorry, I just thought…”

  He lowered his head and rested it on her neck. “I want to, I really want to. But I can’t.”

  Damn. She’d found the only married man in the city who had a conscience.

  “Stop worrying. Think about it later,” she said. It always worked for her.

  “I can’t. It’s too dangerous.”

  “Why? Have you got an STD or something?”

  He stared at her blankly then his face cracked into a grin. “No, of course not! I meant, well, you’re just better off not getting involved with me.”

  She ran her fingers through his thick hair.

  “I kind of am involved,” she said softly, pushing her hips against his.

  He stood back. “No, really. I’m sorry. You are wonderful, everything I’ve ever… But this just can’t happen.”

  Her heart sank but she felt angry too. “So what was all that superhero rescuing stuff all about?”

  “Don’t joke about that. That threat is very real. And if you don’t mind, I’ll sleep on your couch tonight—just to make sure.”

  “Really? On the couch? I can think of somewhere you’d be a lot more comfortable.” She smiled at him again, reaching out to pull him closer.

  But he wasn’t responding.

  “You really think he’ll come here? Who is he? How do you know so much about him?”

  Jackson shook his head. “I can’t say. But yes—I do think he might come after you.”

  “And what?” Given that she would probably have invited that guy home with her anyway, what else could he be after?

  “And you might not have lived to tell the tale.”

  “Then why aren’t the police involved? Oh− are you in the police?” She felt suddenly hopeful—that might explain his reluctance to get involved if he was ‘on the job.’

  But he shook his head. “Not exactly. Not officially. But I think I’ll be able to neutralize the threat tomorrow. I’ll find him and make sure he doesn’t bother you again. But just for tonight it’s better to be safe.”

  It didn’t make sense. But she didn’t have the energy to think about it anymore. It had been a long day and long night. One way or the other she seemed destined for disappointment. She yawned widely, covering her mouth with her hand.

  “Go to bed. I’ll sleep here.”

  “Sure,” she said, convinced that after half an hour she could tempt him into her bed. She half closed her bedroom door and got undressed.

  She needed a decent, straightforward man. Not someone who couldn’t come clean about his job or what was going on—or who turned up and ‘protected’ her from hot guys—or who kissed her like he wanted her then refused to go any further.

  She brushed her teeth angrily. Why did men have to be so damn complicated? Why did she always pick out the ones who couldn’t, or shouldn’t or wouldn’t? Well, Jackson could stay on the sofa all night. She wasn’t going to beg for it. If he wanted her, he knew where she was. She tossed a couple of spare pillows and a comforter to him. “Goodnight, sleep well.”

  “Goodnight.”

  *****

  Mid- way through the night she was suddenly awake. Her mouth was dry, and her head was pounding. She staggered out of bed to get a drink. Halfway into the kitchen she stopped dead. Something was different. What was it? She looked in the tangle of comforters and pillows on the sofa but even in the dim light from the window she could see Jackson wasn’t there. Where was he? She looked around. Not there.

  She poured a glass of water and drank it down. Then she took a painkiller, hoping to avoid a real killer of a hangover in the morning.

  She visited the bathroom. He wasn't there either. Had he left? So much for protecting her. She looked in the hallway, knowing the dead bolts would be unlocked if he’d gone. But he was there—stretched out in front of the door—no pillow, no blanket—just sleeping on the carpet.

  As she looked at him, he opened one eye and regarded her for a second. Then he sat up quickly. “Everything all right?” he asked, instantly alert.

  She nodded.” Just wondering where you were. Why aren’t you on the couch?”

  “This is the best place security-wise.”

  “But how can you just sleep on the floor like that?”

  He grinned at her and shrugged. “I can sleep anywhere.”

  “Well, I’m going back to bed. It’s really comfy in there. If you get too uncomfortable…” She let the thought trail off. He knew where she was.

  “Sweet dreams,” he said, lying down again, looking completely relaxed.

  “You’re a strange one Jackson,” she said quietly as she got back into bed.

  In the morning, he had gone. The comforter was neatly folded with the pillows on top.

  In the cold light of day, with a mouth that still tasted like an old carpet, bags under her eyes and a dull pounding in the back of her skull, she was glad she hadn’t slept with him. She still had to work with him, and that could have been embarrassing, especially if—as she suspected—he was married and involved with some very dodgy people.

  Chapter Five

  “You look terrible,” said Colin as soon as she got into the office.

  “Thanks,” she replied shortly. He always looked terrible and she didn’t mention that every time she saw him. And at least she was going to look better tomorrow after an alcohol-free early night. He’d always look like that.

  “Been burning the midnight oil?”

  “No, it causes too much pollution.”

  He laughed like it was hilarious. “That’s a good one. But really, are you ill? Coming down with something?”

  “I’m fine, just a headache.”

  “So did you go out last night?”

  “Me and a girlfriend went to a bar. I got totally hammered and picked up a guy, but I didn’t take him home. Not this time.” Sometimes she just had to say things like that to see the look on his face. It was shock and outrage, but also a kind of vicarious excitement. She saw him building up a head of righteousness so she got in before he could speak. “Only joking! I went to bed early with a good book.”

  His mouth flapped like a goldfish out of water as all his words of censure suddenly had nowhere to go.

  But she knew she’d get that dose of righteousness at some point in the morning—there was no escaping it. But for now—at least −she’d managed to shut him up.

  And she had a new plan for a quiet day at work. She put on her headphones and switched on her ipod. Some classic Beyoncé filled her ears. “Whale song,”
she shouted across to Colin, probably far too loudly. “It helps me relax.”

  He gave her the thumbs up and nodded enthusiastically.

  Now she just had to remember not to sing along. ‘All the single ladies’ was probably not in the average whale’s repertoire.

  The morning passed quickly. Blocking out Colin’s voice was the best idea she’d had for ages. Her headache receded slowly. She worked on Jackson’s case, or the dam case as she thought of it to herself, not sure if she meant dam or damn.

  Either way, it was hard not to think about Jackson while she was doing it. She knew he was as attracted to her as she was to him. No one could deny the spark between them. But nothing was going to happen. She wasn’t going to let him kiss her again, let alone anything else.

  She would be the one to withdraw, to say no, to play very had to get indeed. If he wanted another chance with her, he’d have to sort out whatever was holding him back—and then come chasing her and hope she’d give in—eventually.

  At lunchtime Bethany texted her. ‘Meet me at Cordoba’s for lunch? 1pm?’

  ‘Yes,’ she texted back. She wondered why. Something must have happened last night, or this morning. Bethany usually worked through lunch. In fact, at her old company it was expected. Unless you were being wined and dined by a client, taking any kind of break in the day was frowned upon. And as for the female staff actually eating! A peeled grape and a lettuce leaf was supposed to sustain your model-slender good looks.

  Here it was different. Almost everyone brought in enormous lunch boxes full of strange and healthy things. They all ate enthusiastically, swapping food and talking about it obsessively.

  Justine was yet to join the communal food fest. But she felt it had to be better—in principle at least—than at her old office where it was seen as greedy or weak to eat anything.

  Justine left in time to meet Bethany.

  She could see her friend had been crying as soon as she sat down. “Bethany, what is it? Is it the office bitches again?”

  She shook her head, wiping her nose on the paper serviette. “No. It’s him.”

  “Alistair?”

  “No one else understands what he’s like. He’s just really hard to say no to. He’s so cute and so sexy. But I know he’s my client and he’s married.”

  ‘And my ex,’ Justine added mentally. That alone should have been reason enough for Bethany not to get involved. But it was too late now and Justine didn’t care. Meeting Jackson made Alistair seem insubstantial and unimportant. “So he called you last might?”

  Bethany nodded. “I should have said—but I knew you’d tell me not to go—and you’d have been right.”

  “So, what happened?”

  “The usual. Well—not really. Alistair seems to be getting more …” She tailed off, looking into the distance.

  “More what?”

  “More extreme. The stuff he wants to do. It’s not normal. Was he like that with you?”

  Justine cast her mind back. Alistair had enjoyed taking a few risks. They’d often made love in the back of his car and in his office. Although in retrospect, that might have been more to do with not being able to take her to his home. He’d liked watching her play with herself and he’d taken photos of her naked. But could that be described as extreme or not normal? “I don’t know. No, not really strange. What kind of thing do you mean?”

  Bethany leaned forwards and dropped her voice. “Did he ever get other guys involved?”

  Justine shook her head, surprised. “Involved? How?”

  “Watching—group stuff, you know.”

  Justine tried to imagine. This was not the Alistair she knew. “Tell me.” She was concerned—and a tiny bit intrigued.

  “He picked me up from the club last night and there was another guy in the car with him. Not the driver—another man in the back with Alistair. Alistair was his usual charming self. I was a bit drunk. I was sitting between Alistair and his friend. Then Alistair started kissing me and stuff. I thought it was a bit rude, leaving the other guy sitting there like a gooseberry. But after a while I realized he wasn’t.”

  “How do you mean?”

  “There were too many hands.” She passed and sipped her coffee.

  Justine kept her eyes on Bethany’s face, waiting for an explanation.

  “Alistair was kissing me and one hand was holding my head, and his other one was trying to slide under the top of my dress—but there was another hand stroking my thighs—and more.”

  “The other guy was touching you?”

  Bethany nodded. She looked as if she didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “I told him to stop—but he didn’t. And you know what Alistair’s like. He just said go with the flow, and everything will be fine and not to be so uptight and stuff. He said it would be mean to leave his friend out when we were having such fun. Then we were kissing again, and I kind of lost track of who was doing what. There were hands and mouths everywhere.”

  “Did the other guy—I mean—how far did you go with him?”

  “Let’s just say they were both pretty satisfied by the end. So was I.”

  Justine had an image of herself, with Jackson and that guy from the bar last night, all naked and entangled together. She pushed it away immediately. She wasn’t interested in either of them, and especially not together. “Was it fun?”

  Bethany laughed. “It was. Actually it was really good – physically, anyway. Everything’s always fun with Alistair, until you remember he’s just called you up for a screw before he goes home to his wife.”

  “I didn’t know he was married when we were dating,” Justine reminded her.

  “You could have found out. It wasn’t exactly a secret.”

  Justine knew it was true. At first, she hadn’t known. By the time she did, Alistair had her hooked. She was in love with him and ready to believe it when he said the marriage was over in all but name, and soon he’d be free. What a fool she’d been. But Bethany didn’t have that excuse. “If you liked it, what’s the problem? Why have you been crying?”

  “I don’t know. I just feel used. It’s not right. I mean, what if expects me to do it again with another one of his friends? Or all his friends?”

  “Would you do it again?” Justine had to admit she was curious. What would it feel like?

  Bethany shook her head. “It was good. But I feel I’ve crossed a line. And you know how demanding Alistair is. I feel like he’s going to expect me to bone anyone he turns up with from now on.”

  “And you don’t want to do that?”

  Bethany looked embarrassed. “Of course not. I enjoyed it at the time. It was really hot. I just felt bad afterwards. He took me home and I got out the car and I felt like he’d used me. But… I don’t know. I suppose I didn’t have to do it.”

  Justine wondered how much Bethany could be said to be using Alistair too. If he was their firm’s biggest client, her recent promotion was almost entirely because she was looking after that contract. And Bethany did have the benefit of knowing that Alistair was both married and a player before she got involved. She had gone into it willingly and with her eyes wide open. But she knew how Alistair could push you into doing things you never thought you would. Just because he didn’t physically force you, didn’t mean it was a fair fight.

  They kept talking about Alistair—how much fun he was, but how everything was always on his terms, and why they had both fallen for him. But Justine knew that Bethany didn’t have feelings for Alistair like Justine had done.

  She still sympathized with Bethany. And she knew the ‘Alistair’ chapter of her own life was closed now. She wouldn’t let a man con her like that again. She’d make sure she knew what she was getting in to and stayed in control.

  Her thoughts returned to Jackson and the strange evening she’d had.

  “After you left I got dancing with this guy – tall, sexy, a bit wild looking – then Jackson turned up out of the blue and warned me off him.”

  Bethany frowned. “Who’
s Jackson?”

  “The client. From work.”

  “Oh yes. The one you were definitely not going to get involved with.”

  Justine gave a wry smile. “Yes, that one.”

  “So he’s stalking you now?”

  Justine shook her head. “I don’t think so. He gave the impression he was interested in the other guy.” She saw Bethany’s expression and laughed, “Not interested like that—but like he’d been following this other guy. He seemed to think he was dangerous, and I needed protecting from him.”

  “A knight in shining armor? Or a stalker making sure you never get it together with anyone else?”

  “It was like he really thought this other guy might hurt me. He even came back to my place with me and checked my security.”

  “Your ‘security’! Is that what you’re calling it these days?” She giggled. “Did he think your security was pretty tight or a bit slack?”

  “No – seriously! He searched the apartment. He checked the window locks, the doors, everything.”

  “And then went home?”

  “And then stayed but—”

  “You did it, didn’t you? So much for not getting involved.”

  “Really, I didn’t.” Justine was laughing too, but she insisted. “Nothing happened—nothing. He slept on the couch—well, the floor actually.”

  “I thought I was in an odd relationship with Alistair—but I think yours is even stranger.”

  “Me too. At least Alistair’s just a player. I have no idea who or what this guy Jackson is. Anyway, I have to keep seeing him for a while, until this case is over—but I’m not going to get involved.”

  “Not even if he keeps turning up offering to ‘protect’ you?”

  “No. I was kind of taken by surprise last night. He seemed so concerned about my safety. But thinking about it now—it just doesn’t make sense.”

  “Where are all the normal guys?” Bethany asked, mournfully.

  “I don’t know. But they aren’t anywhere near me. I seem to have a magnetic appeal for the crazy ones.”

  “At least it’s not dull.”

  “Oh—I long for dull. Imagine it—a single guy, no complications, no baggage, good-looking, straight. You date for a while, then you get married.”