by Dani McLean
“You know what I mean.” If she did, I’d be surprised. Because I was talking out of my ass, trying futilely to salvage this without having to disclose the exact reason I’d been keeping my distance from her.
“No. I don’t. Why are you fighting me on this? It’s not really your decision, anyway. I don’t want to work for you anymore.”
“Is this because I didn’t like your ideas about the menu?”
“No, it’s not.” She stood firm, her hands on her hips. Immovable. No. More like a predator in wait, an undeniable tension present. Or maybe I was hoping. I kept expecting her to lash out, get angry, but as I watched her, all I could see was indecision. As the seconds ticked by, her focus never swayed, making me itchy with anticipation.
And then, it ended. Whatever she observed in me eventually made her shake her head, and the previous tension I felt slipped away. “You know what? Sure. That’s exactly what it is. I can’t deal with you taking over the bar—”
“My bar,”
“—and I need to leave before I,” she stopped abruptly. Her eyes slipped down to my lips, and my breath caught in my throat.
“Before you what?” It came out rougher than I’d intended, and I realized, rather belatedly, that we had inched closer together.
I couldn’t let this happen. No matter how much I thought about it.
Clearing my throat, I turned back to the bar cart, eager to put some distance between us.
I gulped down a large amount of whiskey and was glad when my voice returned somewhat to normal. “Last night, you told me that no one would hire you if you quit.”
“Actually, I believe I said none of those assholes would hire me, but I have a lot of friends. I’ll be able to find something.”
“I thought we’d moved past this.”
A firm hold on my elbow spun me around until I faced her. “Jesus, Sam. Why are you trying so hard to change my mind? When we first met, you hated me.”
“I didn’t hate you.”
That earned me a stern eyebrow raise.
“Fine. I may have harbored some unsavory feelings towards you.”
“Oh, my god.” She groaned. “Would it help if I said I hated you?”
“Do you?”
“I …” She huffed. “No. Don’t distract me. You haven’t answered my question. Why do you care so much that I want to leave?”
“I …” Oh, god, it was catching. I tried to think about it. Despite her professional expertise, which I would be justified in not wanting to lose, there were a hundred ways that life would be made easier if she wasn’t working for me anymore.
And yet, the idea of her leaving bothered me.
After months of a slow decline, she was a rush of adrenaline to my life.
“Sam?” she asked when I still hadn’t answered her.
She stepped closer. My gaze caught on her mouth, and I shivered when she licked her lips before they curled into a knowing smile.
Damn, she knew what she was doing to me.
“Sam.” Another step. Body heat rolled off of her, warming up the parts of me she was nearest to.
I stepped back. Felt the rustle of the bar cart as I brushed against it. I couldn’t go any farther. “We can’t.”
I really needed to get myself together.
With a steadying breath, I began to walk away, putting some distance between us. Distance was good. Necessary.
She followed me into the living room, hot on my heels.
“That’s it? Jesus, do you even hear yourself?”
I stopped mid-stride. She had a point. If I could get my head out of this haze for one minute, I would be able to see this from her perspective.
“Sam! Are you just going to ignore me now?”
I turned to face her, enamored by how radiant she was, despite, or maybe in spite of, her anger. Lust coiled around my spine, growing deep in my gut, and for once, I felt dangerously close to giving in.
I’d been holding back before, unwilling to cross that boundary, and unsure of her reaction. But from the way she was holding my gaze now, I was almost certain she wanted the same thing I did.
And dammit, it made it impossible not to give it to her.
I’ve been drawn to her since the moment we met. It’s a terrible idea, but … what was the risk here? Tiffany had quit. In short time, she’d leave the bar, and me, behind, and this would be forgotten.
Her features twisted in frustration, hands now clenched at her sides. “Fuck, you’re so frustrating! With your calm. And your reason. And your gorgeous eyes. I mean, what’s up with them anyhow? Are they gray, are they green, are they blue? Who fucking knows?”
Fire erupted through me. One I’d grown accustomed to whenever she was around. This time I took a step forward, getting in her face.
“I’m frustrating? Do you know how completely and utterly infuriating you can be? You’re smart, talented, easily the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met … You could be doing anything. But you seem to get a kick out of making me want to tear my hair out at every possible turn.”
Our eyes were locked on each other. Then, a slow smirk warmed her face. “You’re kind of hot when you’re angry.” She stepped forward to meet me.
“Tiffany.” A warning. For her or me, I couldn’t be sure.
And then, I reached up, my hand neatly fitting in the curve of her elegant neck, just as I knew it would, and pulled her in, or maybe I was finally following her natural gravity, until our lips collided.
It was glorious.
She kissed the way she talked. Fast, hot, passionate. We grappled with each other, teeth bumping, tongues clashing, hands gripping. She smelled like cinnamon and tasted like dessert. Felt like fire under my skin.
My senses caught up to me, and just as quickly as it began, I ended it, pulling back. Our breaths mingled between us, short and sharp. My heart was racing. “Wait. We can’t do this. Not while you work for me.”
“Good. Because I quit.” She dived in for another kiss, but I stopped her.
“That’s not funny.”
“I’m not trying to be funny.”
“I’m not going to let you quit.”
She was unimpressed. “You’re not going to let me?”
I dropped my hands from her body. “No, wait. That’s … that came out wrong. I don’t want you to quit.” I sighed. “I won’t deny that you’re a very attractive woman, Tiffany, and maybe in different circumstances, we could explore whatever this is.”
“We should just get it out of our system, you know? We barely even like each other, so you don’t have to worry about me catching feelings.”
I said nothing, torn.
“Look, I’m quitting whether you sleep with me or not. I’m just asking you if you want to.”
My body was already reacting to the idea, my dick half hard in my pants, and I was desperately trying not to let it call the shots here. Apart from her quitting, this was everything I’d been trying not to think about. Trying not to want.
And it was being offered to me.
I needed to think logically about this while I still had the northward blood flow to do so. “You can’t just leave. I’ll need time to replace you. You’ll need to train someone new.”
“Ok. I’ll stay as long as it takes to find a suitable replacement.”
“And, where I can, I’ll help you find work.”
“Thanks, oh gracious one, but I don’t believe I asked you for help. I’m perfectly capable of getting work.”
“Ok. Good.”
She curled one hand into my shirt. “Are you done?”
I was already chasing her lips. “Yes.”
Her hand curled into my hair, her nails scratching my scalp with just a hint of pressure. It sent a lightning burst of pleasure down my spine. My hands gravitated to her waist, gripping, holding her body against mine, her pert breasts crushed between us. She felt amazing. I desperately wanted to slowly map out every inch of her skin with my mouth and hands, but this was only going to be a one-
time thing, and right now, slow was not possible. I needed her now. Wrapping my hands around her back, I finally got to bury my fingers into that thick blonde hair that had been taunting me and cradled her head as I deepened the kiss.
Our breaths tangled in the small space between us.
Every kiss was a jostle for control, a relay race of desire.
“Don’t think this means I’ll change my mind on the menu,” she said as I pressed hot kisses along her jaw.
“Doesn’t matter. You don’t work for me anymore, remember?“
“And this doesn’t mean I like you.”
I pulled back. “We don’t have to do this, you know.”
The hunger in her eyes was undeniable. “Shut up and kiss me, Cooper.”
Damn, she was bossy. I loved it.
Knowing that this powerful woman wanted me as much as I wanted her fueled my arousal, making my entire body buzz with anticipation.
23
Tiff
Sam kissed down my neck, one hand curled into my hair. My hands finally got a hold of his ass, and good lord, it was just as fucking fantastic as I’d thought it would be. Fucking him might be a really bad idea, but it was also the best bad idea I’d ever had.
With a firm grip on his chin, I pulled him back to lick into his mouth, and I was thrilled at the moan he let out. Oh, shit. He liked that. I moaned back, gripping him tighter. Every single response he gave was driving me wild. Who the hell was this guy? Had this been hiding underneath that tight, controlled exterior this whole time?
Fuck, I wanted to ruin him.
Pleasure throbbed between my thighs when his fingers wrapped around my wrist, pulling it free of his chin with a surprising amount of strength. Yes. God, he was pushing every single one of my buttons right now, and I could feel myself getting wetter.
And when he held my wrist at my side, then squeezed like a command … like he wanted to test the boundaries of power and play between us. Fuck. I almost climbed him like a tree and finished myself off right then and there.
His hands were strong around my waist and quick to slip under my shirt to grip underneath. They worked their way up and around, touching my ribs and back, pushing my top upwards as a side effect of his hurried exploration of my skin.
Tearing one hand away from him, I reached down and pulled my top the rest of the way off. He barely paused, making quick work of removing my bra, his hands eagerly exploring as our mouths met again. I was already unbuttoning my jeans when he started on his shirt. Before he lifted it, I reached out to still his hand, wanting to take control. Wanting to see how he would react.
Once he let go of his shirt, I spied the couch behind him and started moving us towards it with a sly grin. He let me walk him backward, a smile playing on his lips, which I leaned in to taste. Damn, his lips were addicting. I would never again be able to look at them without wanting to nibble on them.
When his knees hit the couch, I gave a playful shove and watched as he fell back, still clothed, lips parted, pupils blown wide.
I made quick work of removing my pants until I stood bare before him.
Now naked, I shivered, a mix of the cool air against my skin and the rush of desire coursing through me. It only heightened as Sam’s gaze raked over me slowly, hungrily, and my body reacted as if he was touching me, my nipples coming to attention. I knew the exact moment he noticed, too, as a low moan emanated from him while his fingers gripped his thighs. And oh, I spied a very hard cock straining those pants. Even confined, it looked long and thick, and I licked my lips at the image.
Fuck, this was so much hotter than I’d imagined.
“Are you sure?” he asked, as exasperating as ever.
One hand on my hip, I gestured to my state of undress with the other. “What about this isn’t clear to you, Sam?”
His signature smirk curled into place. “You don’t have to be rude about it.” That smug son a …
“Sam!”
I growled low in frustration at his responding chuckle, but it turned into a strangled moan when he reached for me, pulling me into his lap and pushing his tongue into my mouth with a surety that left no question about what he wanted.
Any question that he wasn’t interested was blown away between the conviction with which he’s assaulting my lips and the hard line of his cock pressed up against me. Needy, I ground harder against him, both of us groaning in pleasure as the material roughly teased the sensitive parts of my pussy, delicious in its promise of what was to come.
Every nerve ending was on fire, from my nipples to my clit, and I was drunk on his reactions. Every hot breath, every moan, every aborted thrust fed my own, making me want him more. And we’d barely even started.
Although I’d hoped (and suspected) that he wanted me as much as I wanted him, feeling him hot and hard and frenzied beneath me was a relief. No part of him was passive in his assault—all of him as hungry for me as I was for him.
God, his fucking jeans were not making things easy. Maybe we should be naked. Why had I stopped him from getting naked? Goddammit I just needed it a little bit harder.
Even grinding down onto him, it was impossible to get what I needed, but it was so damn hard to pull away. Every sound that spilled from his lips, every desperate touch of his hands, kept me magnetized to him.
We clawed at each other, lips and teeth and bodies colliding over and over. It felt like every fight we’d had, each of us unwilling to back down and neither of us willing to give ground, and it was hotter than anything I’d experienced before.
Fuck.
Sam’s hands were everywhere, my face, my breasts, my thighs, my ass. Feeling and searching and kneading in this dizzying pattern that made me feel like a fucking teenager again. If this was all that happened tonight, if he put a stop to this now and I got dressed and went home, it would still be the most incredible connection I’d had with someone in … maybe ever.
With a firm grip on my ass, Sam lurched forward and up, and I immediately wondered if he was gonna call it. That his right mind had reappeared (I had no idea how since I was barely more than a bundle of shot nerves and adrenaline at this point), and he was going to hand me my clothes and send me on my way.
And, fuck, that would be disappointing, but I wouldn’t push him, even if I already knew there was no way I was going to forget the taste of him.
But no.
I stepped out of his lap as he stood, but he didn’t let me get far, his hands cupping my face as he devoured the sounds I made. Then, he tilted my chin and dipped to nip at my neck (Goddammit, his lips should be illegal). I was too distracted to realize that he was walking me backward, pressing his advantage and taking control.
I moaned, loud and indecent, when I realized.
A fine sweat had broken out over me, doing nothing to cool the fire that was raging underneath, so when the cold glass of his window met the line of my back, I jumped.
He laughed (laughed!) into my mouth, capturing my surprised gasp with his lips and pressing against me.
I could barely believe this was the same man I’d been fighting with for weeks. That stoic façade was hiding some seriously hot primal energy, and fuck, I couldn’t get enough.
At the same time, we both zeroed in on his clothes, our hands tangling as we rushed to get them off. It would probably be easier if we stopped kissing, but neither of us seemed willing to do that.
His lips were as maddening as they’d ever been, and I devoured his groan when I bit down on his plush bottom lip.
“Wait,” he breathed between kisses, “I need …”
Cold air assaulted me when he stepped back. “Protection.” He seemed only capable of single words.
“In my jeans,” I said, nodding towards them. It had seemed presumptuous when I’d left my apartment, but all I could think now was—Thank fuck for presumptuousness.
When he returned, sans clothes and condom in hand, he surprised me by spinning me around until I faced the street. The lack of streetlights and the late hour
meant little chance of being caught, but the thrill of it still sent a shudder through me.
I could imagine the view we would paint if anyone were to look, and although I was no stranger to exhibitionism, it was a damn surprise that Sam was into it. He was just full of surprises.
“Okay?” he rasped in my ear, and I arched into him as he softly stroked my straining nipples.
“Yes,” I breathed in response.
He nuzzled into my neck, sucking a mark into the sensitive spot just under my ear and humming his enjoyment as I showed him how much I wanted him by grinding my ass against his cock.
I leaned my forehead against the glass and watched our breath crash against the window. Sweat was beading on my forehead and under my palms, and I felt an errant drop making a path down my back.
He caught it with his thumb, rubbing it into my heated skin before pulling my hips back, making me take a half step backward and rest my head on my hands as I rebalanced myself.
That same hand traced a path around my waist, following the curve of my hip until it was between my legs. I knew he could feel how wet I was, how willing.
“Sam.” I sounded wrecked.
“I know.” There was humor in his voice, and I hated that I couldn’t see his face in the reflection of the glass, too foggy from my ragged breaths to make anything out behind me.
His feet nudged my legs wider, and I eagerly complied, rocking my pelvis back and trying to beckon him closer (Seriously! Just fuck me already).
“Sam,” I pleaded, insistent.
His answer was wordless, simply lining his dick up and slowly pushing in, not stopping until he was buried to the hilt.
Fuck. Yes.
I’d always been more of a switch in bed, happily sharing control depending on the scene or what my partner needed at the time. And although most of my partners had sided one way or the other (leaning more towards dominant or submissive, even if they didn’t use those terms to describe it); it was rare (as in never) that I’d had a partner who enjoyed both the way I did. And with Sam’s hands searing a brand on my hips as his thick cock stretched and filled me, just moments after he’d been a desperate mess beneath me on the couch … I realized I wanted that.
