by Kendall Ryan
These documents should be signed, sealed, and delivered already. I thought we were done with this freaking case. Isn’t that why we all flew out to the middle of nowhere? What happened to all that “celebrate a job well done” stuff? Even on a good day, this dull-as-dishwater meeting would make me antsy . . . and my memories of last night elevate it to pure torture.
I can’t stop thinking about the skillful way that Hayden kisses. His long, thick cock tenting his pants and throbbing in my hands. His deft fingers on my clit. He looks incredibly handsome in a suit, but now I know that he looks even better halfway out of one. I wonder how he would look completely naked. Probably like a sculpture from ancient Greece. Why do I have to be stuck in here? Why isn’t that sexy bastard on top of me right now?
Fuck . . . I’m slowly but surely driving myself insane. I wish Hayden hadn’t stopped our fun just before we got to the good part. Sure, I was buzzed, but I wasn’t that drunk.
Unable to fight off my horny boredom anymore, I hide my phone under the table and text him as subtly as possible.
Emery: Please kill me now.
A minute later, my phone vibrates.
Hayden: Sorry, no can do. Would a good joke help?
My heart races as I text back.
Emery: The only thing that would make this meeting less awful is if you were under the table.
I try to quell my nerves. Will he take the bait? Will my flirting come across as sexy or desperate? Maybe I shouldn’t have done that. If I have to, I can always pass it off as a joke.
My trepidation dissolves into a flush of heat at his near-immediate reply.
Hayden: Fuck yes. I’ve thought about that.
I fight to avoid cracking a smile in front of the fat cats.
Emery: Why am I not surprised?
Hayden: Because you’re at the office all the time, looking like a hot librarian. A man’s fantasies have to come from somewhere.
Emery: Thanks for the insight into your creative process, Mr. Oliver.
I bite my lip at his next message.
Hayden: I’d hide under your desk, my head under your skirt. Reward the high-powered lawyer for all her hard work. Suck on your clit until you were nice and wet for me. Could you keep a straight face if someone came in?
This really isn’t helping me sit still and pay attention, but I can’t bring myself to stop now. My body is running on pure adrenaline now.
Emery: Nope, that’s why we’d lock the door.
Too aroused to be embarrassed, I add: If you did a good job, I’d let you fuck me on my desk.
Hayden: I always do a good job.
Emery: Is that so? I’m sure you could provide a long list of references.
Hayden: What can I say? This level of skill takes practice.
My lip quirks in amusement at his cockiness. A few weeks ago, his tendency to fuck everything that moved would have bothered me—especially if he didn’t even try to deny it. But I’ve accepted his checkered past as part of him. Nobody’s perfect, after all. And it’s not like we’re dating. We’re just two friends who want to fool around.
After a few more rounds of borderline sexting, he changes the subject.
Hayden: What’s your schedule for tonight? I want to steal you away.
My stomach flips with excitement.
Emery: Promise I’ll be done by six. Meet you at the hotel bar?
Hayden: Wouldn’t miss it for the world.
I slip my phone back into my purse, feeling self-satisfied. I’ve made my decision: I’m going to sleep with him tonight. No more second-guessing my own judgment, no more obsessing over what the future might bring, no more vaguely moralistic oh, I really shouldn’t waffling.
I’m a grown-ass woman; there’s nothing wrong with going out and fulfilling my needs. We’re both single and horny. We both want this . . . dear God, do we ever want it. Now that I’ve had a taste of Hayden, I won’t rest until I get the whole main course. I want to seize the moment—along with a few other more solid things.
A little whiny voice in my head questions: Even if it ruins our friendship? I firmly tell my superego to shut its nonexistent pie hole. One night of sex won’t ruin anything. People have fuck buddies and friends with benefits all the time. It’s clearly not impossible. Whatever the hell our relationship is now—whatever it will become—we can make it work.
Methinks the lady doth protest too much, whispers the voice. If you have to try this hard to convince yourself . . .
But the mental image of a very naked, very erect Hayden quiets it right down. My core clenches and I have to press my thighs together under the conference table. Guilt and anxiety can’t last a minute against my need to get laid. It’s been way too long, and by God, I’ve earned this. I can practically feel that huge cock filling me already.
I shift in my chair as discreetly as I can manage, already slick and aching between my thighs. This is going to be a long damn afternoon.
• • •
That evening at five minutes after six, I hurry into the hotel lobby’s bar to find Hayden already perched at a high-top table for two. He’s sipping from a tumbler of amber whiskey on the rocks; in front of the other chair sits what looks like a peach Bellini in a frosty glass. Another one of my favorite cocktails. It’s a cute gesture, but right now, I’m not sure if I want to take the time to drink it.
“Sorry I’m late,” I call out as I walk over, putting a little extra swish in my hips. Never let it be said that Emery Winters has forgotten how to get a man’s attention.
His eyes fall on me and ignite like coals. “Hey, you.” The low note of promise in his voice warms me from the inside out. And his smile is a slow, wonderful curl of lips that reminds me of all the things he texted me earlier. All the things he wanted to do with that sinful mouth . . .
I lean over the table to taste him in a feverish kiss. He reacts instantly, one hand falling to my hip and the other tangling in my hair, pulling me closer. He nips at my lower lip and I let out a soft moan, my arousal renewing itself with a throb.
We really shouldn’t be playing tonsil hockey in public like this. I already want to push him against the wall, like he did to me last night, or let him throw me onto the floor. If he keeps doing that thing with his tongue, we might end up getting the cops called on us. But, mmm, handcuffs . . . that might be fun too.
As I pull back for a breath, the dark hunger in Hayden’s eyes almost hauls me right back in like a gravitational force. But the mood deflates a little when I see Mr. Pratt over Hayden’s shoulder, paused at the bar entrance to stare at us. He looks totally bewildered.
Hayden glances back for a moment. “Oh . . . right. He must be confused as shit.”
“Why’s that?” I ask in an amused tone that’s more like What did you do?
“I may have told him that I’m completely, definitely not your boyfriend.”
The implications sink in and I laugh out loud. Now that I think about it, I did see them talking on the other side of the ballroom last night, didn’t I? Mr. Pratt must have been the one to prompt Hayden’s freak-out. And Hayden insisted that we were just friends—right before he rushed over to suck my face off. Nothing confusing about that.
Poor little Larry The Creeper probably has no clue what’s going on anymore. Well, it’s none of his fucking business.
Just to rub it in, I lean into Hayden for another long, deep kiss. I don’t need the label of “boyfriend” with him. All I need is his skilled mouth and his muscled body pressed against mine. When I finally pull my mouth from his, a glance up tells me that Larry is still there. Still watching us. I grimace.
Hayden glances toward Larry and his jaw twitches. “Great. I’m going to have to kill that man now.” A soft, wistful sigh follows, and I decide my very favorite thing about Hayden—well, other than his big dick and deep kisses—is his sense of humor. That and his protectiveness.
“With your bare hands?” I ask hopefully.
“Undoubtedly.”
“To protect my
innocence?” I bat my eyelashes, playing along in a way I hope is sexy.
Tracing my jaw with his thumb and pulling me closer, Hayden is a fraction away from kissing me again. “Something tells me you’re not so innocent. You like to fuck dirty, don’t you?”
A surprised little gasp escapes me, and Hayden quiets the sound with his mouth, kissing me hard again. Then he breaks away and glances over my shoulder. “He’s gone. And probably thoroughly fucking confused. But hopefully he won’t bother you too much anymore.”
Despite his playboy lifestyle and occasional closed-off moments, I know Hayden cares for me. He’s been nothing but sweet and fun for our entire friendship. And yesterday, he was practically a knight in shining armor. He made polite small talk with my coworkers, even though I’m sure he was bored out of his mind. He warded off Larry The Creeper without making a scene. He went out of his way to make sure I got a decent vegetarian dinner—in a steakhouse, no less. He toughed out what must have been an epic case of blue balls just because I was tipsy.
Overall, he seems like the total package. An attentive, handsome guy who’s seen me at my most graceless and still thinks I’m the best thing since sliced bread. He can even guess my favorite drinks, for Christ’s sake. That’s good enough for me. More than enough. Isn’t it?
Focus on the pros, Emery . . . they far outweigh the cons. I let a sultry smile curve my lips. Remember what you came here for. Why rock the boat when you can rock the bed?
This time, Hayden is the one to pull back before things get too R-rated for public display. “I talked to the hotel concierge,” he says casually, as if he weren’t hiding a huge boner under the table. “He recommended some fun touristy things to do in Omaha. It’s kind of a short list, but there’s an art museum, a botanical garden, a community theater. They’re performing Annie at seven tonight . . . an off-Broadway rendition.” He chuckles. “Way the hell off.”
I cover his hand with mine. “Let’s just go back to the room,” I say, looking deep into his gorgeous blue eyes.
He blinks in surprise. From the subtle breath he draws in, I can tell he knows exactly what I want and how badly I want it. And he’s dying to give it to me. “What about dinner?” he asks, offering me one last chance to back out and pretend none of this ever happened.
No fucking way, babe. You’re mine tonight. “We can order room service,” I reply. My thumb rubs the back of his hand in slow circles. “After.”
His grin turns absolutely devilish. That’s all the confirmation I need.
Abandoning our drinks in their sweat rings on the table, we pay our bar tab and make a break for it. We hurry toward the elevator like a pair of teenagers who finally have the house to themselves.
My stomach jitters with eager butterflies. There are no nosy colleagues or scandalized old ladies to slow us down this time. No cocktail buzz to guilt Hayden into leaving me alone again. In fact, I can’t think when I last felt more sober; I’m so awake, so alive, my skin is sparking with desire. I almost can’t stand the anticipation as the elevator slowly dings its way up to our floor. I want his hands on me and his cock inside me right this second.
With his longer stride, Hayden reaches our room door first. He opens it for me with a flourish and a hungry gleam in his eye. “Ladies first.”
He squeezes my ass as I walk through, and I squeak with surprise, giggling. I’m acting like a giddy schoolgirl and I couldn’t care less.
But when the heavy door clicks shut behind us, I can’t help but pause. As soaking wet as my panties are, as much as every part of me wants Hayden . . . sex is such a big step. Who could charge over a cliff like this without even hesitating at the edge? As much as I’ve tried to convince myself that sleeping together is no big deal, it’s going to have ripple effects. No way around that.
When I turn to look at him, Hayden’s expression has softened, concern shining through his desire. I realize that my apprehension is contagious. He knows as well as I do that this is it. We’re about to have sex—and our friendship will never be quite the same again. Even if that change is for the better, it’ll still take some getting used to. Is Hayden willing to work through the awkward stage that’s coming? I’m not even sure if I’m ready for it.
But then again, is anyone ever completely ready for anything new? Life happens at its own pace. I can’t make this leap smaller or less intimidating by worrying about it. Either I back away and spend the rest of my life wondering what could have been . . . or I take the plunge.
Right now.
Chapter Fifteen
Hayden
Emery stands in the center of our hotel room, her wide blue eyes locked on mine, looking apprehensive. After dirty-texting all day, I’ve been wound up and horny, so when she sauntered into the hotel bar, dressed in a black pencil skirt and white button-down top, looking ever so prim and proper, I wanted to strip her down and fuck her senseless. Now . . . I’m not so sure.
“Hey, come here,” I say, holding out my hand. She crosses the room toward me, placing her shaky palm in mine. “We don’t have to do this. We don’t have to do anything you’re not ready for.” All the confidence and bravado she had downstairs has faded away.
“Sorry, it’s just nerves.”
“It’s okay, Emery.” My tone is soft and reassuring, but inside my hormones are raging and my body is on fire. “It was probably a stupid idea.”
She chews on her lower lip, her eyes fixed on mine. She’s lost in thought—she’s always thinking, but for just once, I wish she wouldn’t. “No. I’m sorry, I’m a little nervous. It’s just that I haven’t done this in a while. But I want to.”
Hearing her say those words, my pulse riots. “I’ll go slow. Just tell me if you want me to stop.”
She gives me a tight nod, and her shoulders relax.
“Come here.” I tug her to the bed and we sit down on the edge of it. I’ve never put this much thought into sex or seduction before, but I know I need to calm her down and get her ready, or this night’s going to be over before it even starts.
“What are you doing?” she asks, watching me curiously.
“We could talk first,” I suggest. I haven’t even asked her about her day.
She chuckles. “Somehow I don’t think that will help.”
“Right.” I run my hand along the back of my neck. “Elephant in the room and all that.”
She nods.
“I have an idea,” I say, rising from the bed. “Unbutton your top. I’ll be right back.”
Curiosity flashes in her eyes, but her fingers go to work on the buttons as I walk into the bathroom and grab a bottle of the hotel-supplied body lotion. I dump some into my palms and rub my hands together to warm it.
“A massage,” I say. “To relax you.”
Emery smiles and pulls her white shirt from her shoulders, tossing it on the floor. With the scent of mint and lavender hanging in the air around us, she lies down on the bed on her belly, her head to the side so her eyes are still on mine.
“Thanks for this, Hayden,” she says when my hands make contact with her skin.
I knead her stiff shoulders, pressing my thumbs between her shoulder blades to work out the knots I find. “Not a problem.”
I lose myself in the process, touching her shapely shoulders that I’ve admired for all these weeks. Pushing my fingers in along her spine until she’s nice and relaxed. She murmurs and lets out little grunts of satisfaction that are sexy as hell. I unclasp her bra and let the straps fall to the sides so I can continue rubbing her without the restrictive material in the way. Getting lost in my movements and her little groans, I realize I’m straddling her, my cock nestled against her ass cheeks, while my hips seem to be rocking against her on their own.
“Let me up,” she says, her tone suddenly stern.
Shit. I rise up onto my knees, and Emery lifts up too. I expect her to cover her chest with her hands, or to yell at me for being so presumptuous when I said it was only a massage.
But instead, she turns
around on the bed so she’s facing me. Her chest is heaving wildly with heavy breaths and her skin is flushed. I can’t resist letting my eyes wander from hers. Beautiful. Her breasts are full and perky, with soft pink nipples that have puckered in the cool air-conditioning.
She’s looking at me hungrily, her eyes jumping between mine to where my cock is straining against my pants. In a heartbeat, everything has changed between us.
“Are you sure you’re ready for this?” I ask.
She nods, biting her lip.
“Tell me.”
“I want it,” she whispers, inching her way closer to where I’m kneeling on the bed. As she brings her hands to my belt, her eyes stay locked on mine. “It’s all I thought about all day.”
“Me too,” I admit. Sending dirty texts all afternoon has left my libido in high gear. All systems are primed and ready to go. I must seek and plunder.
Undoing my pants, Emery works one hand into the front of my boxer briefs. My cock hardens even more as I feel her hand curl around me. I lean forward and take her mouth with mine. Once we begin, there’s no awkward fumbling, no hesitation. Her hand strokes up and down while I suck her tongue into my mouth and fondle the prettiest set of tits I’ve ever seen. When my thumbs graze her nipples, Emery moans and breaks from my mouth.
“Do you have any condoms?”
I nod. “’Course. I’m like a Boy Scout.”
She grins, pushing my boxers and pants down my thighs.
“But you’re getting ahead of yourself. I already told you I wanted to eat that sweet pussy of yours.”
She lets out a little groan, trailing her fingernails along my shaft and down to my balls. Goose bumps break out along my thighs. Christ, I want her.
