Loose Ends

by A. M. Hartnett

  “Don’t tell me I’ve made you squeamish,” he joked, “not with what comes out of your head.”

  Sophie was grateful that he took her open-mouthed expression to be the result of his gruesome injury. She shook her head. “I can write a decapitation scene with my eyes closed, but real blood and real injuries, I’m a total wimp.”

  His smile took on that naughty tinge as he leaned back He didn’t put it back on. He just slung it over his lap and ran his other hand through his hair. In an instant he was adorably rumpled, the rascally twin of her take-no-prisoners lawyer.

  “My turn,” he said, resting his head back. “You’ve got my embarrassing secrets and near-death experiences, and now I want something in return--why did you marry Ray Munn?”

  Her first inclination was to push him back, but the disbelieving tone with which he’d asked his question made her laugh and groan at the same time. “You called it earlier. It’s because I thought he was a bad ass, and you know how young girls are: can’t resist a bad boy. I was a dumb kid. I married Ray because it seemed like a great idea at the time.”

  “Was he your first?”

  “I’m absolutely not answering that.”

  “Why not? Who am I going to tell?”

  “It’s not about who you’re going to tell, it’s about you asking me an inappropriate question to begin with.”

  “What can I say? You’re trapped in an elevator with an inappropriate guy. Don’t make me point out the barbarian orgies again.”

  The urge to resist waned with her laughter. “Yes, he was, and let me tell you that was a misfire--and before you even think about asking about the frequency of my orgasms, let me stop you right there and assure you that I’ve always done just fine.”

  “I wasn’t going to ask, but thank you for volunteering that information. What do you mean by misfire?”

  “I equated sex with love, as most girls at that age do, so I married him when he asked.”

  “Is he the only man you’ve ever been with?”

  “He was until we separated,” she said, pleased to burst his notion that she was some repressed nerd girl. “Seriously, we broke up three years ago. I didn’t take up knitting.”

  “And now?”

  “And now, with the divorce and the deadlines, there are warm fuzzies.”

  Ben leaned towards her and gave her that insufferable smile. “You can be better than warm fuzzies, Sophie.”

  As his soft words cascaded over her, so did his gaze. It was only a glance from her face to her toes and back up again, but beneath the skin Sophie felt like a storm had begun to brew. Her pulse picked up and flooded her ears with the rush of blood, and electricity prickled through her.

  Something needed to be said to break the silence. She couldn’t stand it, and she had no escape from it, except to give in to the compulsion to close the gap between them.

  Ben reached up as she leaned towards him, cupping her cheek.

  He paused, his gaze falling to her mouth. “You know how long I’ve been wanting to plant one on you?”

  She laughed in a whisper and tipped her head to one side. “Let me guess: since the moment I walked into your office.”

  “Hell no. You were too buttoned up when I first met you, like you were coming in for a job interview.” Closer and closer he came, so that his next words brushed against her mouth. “It was when you started to loosen up. After a while, you’d come into my office looking like you’d just been tossed in by the wind, but you always looked sexy as hell with your hair all messed up, makeup a little smudged and your cheeks pink from the wind, like you’d just finished with some really dirty business.”

  “I suppose that’s a plausible,” she murmured. “Any thoughts to shoving everything off of your desk and throwing me down?”

  “It’s funny, but that’s the one scenario that never played out,” he admitted. “I pictured having you bent over the arm of the sofa, up against the bookcases with your legs wrapped around me, the carpet on all fours while I give it to you from behind.”

  Sophie moaned, a sound that was cut off by his mouth against hers.

  The ferocity in his kiss surprised her, beckoned her. Tempted from her safe little corner, Sophie grasped his shirt.

  His hands were rougher than she imagined, and for a moment she flashed on what he had said about playing football. She imagined him stripping of in a pristine bathroom and leaving his dirt and grass-stained clothes on the floor, and as the thought of thick soap suds sliding down a hard torso she deepened the kiss.

  Though he began as mercilessly as his first impression that day in his office, as soon as she was tucked into the crook of his arm, he softened.

  “You’re not going to smack me in the mouth now, are you?”

  Sophie pressed a hand to his warm chest. “What makes you think I’d do that?”

  “It’s a threat you’ve made before,” he reminded her, laughter shaking his words.

  “I did, didn’t I? The first time you asked me out for a drink, wasn’t it?”

  “Mmm-hmm.”

  He swept his tongue across her bottom lip. It was the perfect temptation to sate that hunger in every molecule of her body.

  She took his invitation, parting her lips and welcoming the silky sweep of his tongue against hers, and pulled him as close as she could.

  Their predicament ten stories up not forgotten but made inconsequential by how desperately aroused she had become, Sophie scrambled up, pushing her fingers through that thick hair as she squirmed deeper into his clutches.

  Even the notion that getting involved with Ben Croft could lead to no good seemed foolish. How could a little of this be a bad thing? She knew it was easy to say as her libido awakened against his and craved more, but she didn’t give common sense a word in edgewise.

  He broke that devastating kiss far too abruptly and she reached up. Hand on the back of his neck, she drew him back

  Once again, Ben withdrew, this time laughing as he disentangled himself and pushed her down.

  “I think we should probably get that,” he said, and as the buzzing in her ears abated she heard her phone going off.

  “Oh, right.” Her hands trembled as she reached for the offending device and answered. “Hello?”

  “We’re about to bring the elevator down,” Dave announced on the other end. “It’ll be about another minute. It might start and stop a few times, but don’t worry. The guy says it’s perfectly safe. The elevator is fine, but there’s just a computer glitch.”

  “Dave, assure me that computer glitches don’t cause the elevator to shoot like a rocket,” Ben asked, a little more hoarse than he had been.

  Dave laughed. “No, you’ll be fine. You’ll be out of there in no time. See you in a few.”

  Sophie disconnected and took a moment to gather her courage before she looked to Ben. He was gloriously rumpled, hair mussed into curls and cheeks flushed scarlet.

  He ran his hand across her cheek and laughed. “You look like you were gnawing on some poison ivy.”

  “You and your beard,” she said with a giggle, and looked down. “I’m not the only one about to broadcast what we were doing in here, am I?”

  “I don’t think that’s going anywhere,” he said, and once he got to his feet he folded his jacket in front of him. “I’d offer you a hand, but something tells me that you’re not moving a muscle until you’re on the bottom floor.”

  “You guessed that right.” She pulled her knees closer to her and looked up at him. “What?”

  That naughty smirk spread wide. “So I won’t be able to convince you to head back up on the next car, can I?”

  Sophie could feel the purr vibrating up her throat, but bit down on her bottom lip to keep it in. She couldn’t help her smile, though, and beamed up at him.

  “Change your mind about walking me out?”

  “I was thinking we could act out a few of those scenarios I mentioned earlier, and maybe come up with a couple more.”

  There was no q
uestion that Sophia wanted to return to ride back to tenth with him, and would, but the sensible side that had all along been scolding him for his flirty ways pushed to the forefront of all those sinful compulsions crowding her mind and body.

  It might not get the last word, but it would at least have its say.

  “You know that this would just be sex, right?” she asked.

  Ben seemed taken aback, an expression stolen as the elevator quaked and then began to move.

  He cleared his throat and looked down on her. “If that’s how you want it.”

  There was a bit of unexpected frost to that tone. Sophie had expected his smile to get wider and naughtier, but he actually seemed to be a little hurt that she’d mentioned it.

  She felt like she ought to apologize, but flicked the compulsion away like it was a bug caught on her coat.

  “Well, I did just get my hands on the divorce decree, so technically I’ve been divorced for about twenty-minutes or so. Needless to say, I’m not exactly looking to jump into something right now.”

  He was quiet as the elevator descended, and Sophie couldn’t tell whether his ego had taken hit because she hadn’t turned to mush and declared her adoration for him, or if his wound went deeper.

  He glanced up at the number panel, then nodded and held out his hand. “I’ll try not to fall madly in love with you while I’m giving the insides of your thighs a rash to match your face.”

  Sophie laughed as she took his offering and got to her feet. “That’s charming, Ben. Keep talking like that and my panties are going to melt right off.”

  Chapter Three

  Though Sophie had passed through the half-lit office with him just a little while ago, the atmosphere was different this time. There seemed to be a hush all around them as they slipped past the reception desk and into the interior of his office, and once Ben rested his hand on her lower back Sophie could have sworn the air crackled.

  Now that the wall that separated client and attorney had been torn down with a kiss, Sophie welcomed the familiar way he loped alongside of her. When he ran his hand down to sit just above her ass, she cast him a look that she hoped invited him to peruse lower.

  As they passed over the threshold to his office, Ben accepted with a squeeze as he turned her around. Back against the jamb, Sophie took hold of his tie and wrapped it around her palm.

  “Apologies to Granny,” she said as she bunched the fabric in her palm until he was close enough to kiss.

  “She’s been telling me I need to work less and play more anyway.”

  “I don’t think this is what she had in mind,” Sophie countered against his mouth.

  Ben drew back and raised his brows. “Can we take Granny off the topics of conversation for the rest of tonight?”

  Sophie giggled. “Fair enough, but if Granny is off the table then so is any mention of my ex-husband.”

  “I like a good negotiation. Fair enough, but I have a very big mouth and very little tact. It might slip out, and so I’m going to need a little effort on your part to keep me adequately distracted.”

  His voice lowered to a sinful, rasping timbre with his last words, and Sophie enjoyed every aspect of their journey through her body until that resonance found the tip of her clit.

  She let the tie slip slowly through her fingers. “And what do you have in mind?”

  “How many times have you been in this office?”

  “I don’t know. About twenty-five, thirty? I wasn’t keeping count.”

  “You know those scenarios I mentioned? I’ve probably billed you for hours I’ve spent making them up in my head. Let me make it up to you while we play out a few of my favorites.”

  Sophie shivered her agreement as he took her around the waist and pulled her against him so his hard poke nested against her through their clothes. “Any about the elevator?”

  Ben’s tongue snaked along her lower lip . “On your back, feet on my shoulders, holding onto my wrists.”

  “Oh, I think I like that one the best. Almost makes me want to get back in there,” Sophie whispered, and gave her mouth to his.

  Unlike in the elevator when their kiss had been exploratory and desperate, this meeting of lips and tongue was the beginning of something that promised to make her first night as a single woman one to remember.

  “What do you say you let me see you in nothing but the tie?”

  Ben drew back, his cocky expression renewed with a vengeance. As he stepped away, Sophie clung to the edge of the door, convinced it was the only thing keeping her from sliding to the floor and melting into a puddle. Flashing her a naughty smile, Ben tugged his tie loose and turned just as he went to work on his buttons.

  She was surprised by how fearless she felt as she watched him undress. An hour ago, the idea of actually screwing around with her divorce lawyer in his office was about as likely as being kidnapped by a herd of flying monkeys.

  Now, she wanted to be the one to work those buttons one by one and split his shirt open to reveal what was all hers for a little while.

  The more layers he lost, the less in control she felt of herself. She was sure she’d leave nail-marks in the crown moulding as he shucked off his shirt and gave her the broad expanse of his back, complete with the startling ink that splattered between his shoulder blades.

  “You really don’t strike me as the type of guy who would have a tattoo,” she said, and her curiosity pushed her away from the entrance.

  “You dated the bad boy, I was the bad boy, if only for three semesters.” He half-turned to look at her. “You recognize it?”

  “Of course. I’d have to hand in my nerd card if I didn’t. It’s Excalibur still in the stone.” She traced her fingertip along the outline of the hilt. “Does it have special meaning?”

  “Not really. I just thought it looked cool.” He turned to face her and gave her collar a tug. “What about yours?”

  “How do you know I have a tattoo?”

  “I don’t. It was just a hunch. I’ll bet yours is hidden like mine so the world doesn’t know you have it. Why don’t you let me see if I can find it?”

  Sophie was so tempted she ached, but once she splayed her hand across his chest, she prevailed against the urge to go quickly and pushed him away.

  “You were in the middle of a striptease. You have to finish yours before I give you one.”

  He caught her wrists. “So we’re still negotiating?”

  “We’re not. I’m telling you what to do.”

  For a moment she thought--and hoped--that he’d challenge her. The desire to do so was written all over him, in the lines around his mouth as his smirk resurfaced, and in the swell of his chest as he took in a deep breath.

  He chuckled and opened his hands to let her free. “I knew it. You do have a bit o’ Bess in you.”

  “It’s the hair. It makes me bossy.”

  Hands on her hips, she maintained his gaze as he reached for his waist. The metallic click of his buckle begged for her attention, as did the whisper of his slacks sliding down his legs. She prevailed as long as she could, until the snap of his waistband, and as he bent to shove his shorts down she lowered her gaze.

  His cock bobbed as he kicked his clothes aside. He mirrored her pose. She couldn’t tell if he was mocking her, or if he was simply putting himself on display for her, but either way it was a magnificent sight to behold.

  “That wasn’t much of a striptease,” she croaked, and swallowed hard to parch her dry throat with the moisture that had gathered around her tongue.

  Ben cocked his head and grinned. “I’ve still got the tie, though I think it might look better on you.”

  Sophie pressed her tongue to her teeth, and in spite of the fever racing through her blood, she giggled.

  “Why don’t you take a seat, and I’ll show you how it’s done?”

  His laughter joined hers, husky mingling with her giddy. “I’m looking forward to seeing what a boring author in a cardigan has in her arsenal.

  Pai
nted bronze in the incandescent light, Ben strode towards his desk.

  “Not there,” she called after him, and looked to the sofa to her right. “Park it right there.”

  “Come on, it’s been ages since I’ve had a bit of fun while sitting at my desk.”

  “I’m not here to indulge your fantasy of being the most important man in the world, fielding calls and making deals while getting head underneath the desk. Take a seat, Mr. Croft.”

  Ben groaned as he settled onto the sofa, but his expression turned serious once he kicked off his shoes and planted one sock-covered foot on the edge of the coffee table. Head tilted back and eyes glittering in her direction, he grasped his cock beneath the ruddy crown.

  A little regretful about shooting down the idea of giving him head underneath the desk, Sophie whisked her scarf from around her neck and let it trail behind her as she moved to the sideboard.

  The champagne bottle was still open, but she didn’t touch it. She turned over one of the glasses and slipped into the built-in bar fridge for something with a little more character She just dropped two ice chunks into the glass and splashed the vodka in it, then let it rest on the edge of the sideboard as she began to undress.

  “Those are a lot of layers,” he remarked as she did away with the knitted crew-neck.

  Sophie tugged the two tanks she wore underneath from the waist of her skirt. She wondered how many freshly-divorced women had undressed in this office, and concluded with amusement that she was probably the first who had stripped down to a She-Hulk tank.

  It didn’t matter that her purple bra and panty set was far from risqué. The more she revealed, the faster Ben pumped himself. She kicked away her scuffed flats and held the drink away from her as she sashayed across the room, her next move changing in her head with every step.

  Ben let his hands fall to either side of his thighs, and Sophie loved what she saw: long and thick, cut and trimmed, a mouthwatering contrast to the furred canvas from which it rose.

  “This is much better,” he said as she knelt on the edge of the sofa, and skimmed a hand along her flank as she straddled him.