Bad Boys In Black Tie

by Erin McCarthy; Morgan Leigh Lori Foster

  Cassidy chewed her lip and considered her course of action.

  A trim for her long hair was way past due; she’d just been too busy, and too unconcerned, to deal with it. But thinking of the too-curly mess it had become, she decided to set an appointment in the morning. And she could dab on a really subtle fragrance, something naturally earthy, like musk. While she was at the mall to get her hair trimmed, she’d also pick out a scent.

  Pete had noticed her shorts, so she’d wear them again, maybe with a low-cut top. Her cleavage wasn’t anything to crow about, but she wasn’t flat-chested, either.

  What did she have to lose?

  Rolling to her side, Cassidy wondered if Pete would even notice the small changes. She would never be the type of woman he gravitated to, but they were friends, so maybe he wouldn’t mind getting more intimate with her.

  She’d put her plans into action tomorrow—and hope he didn’t already have a date.

  Pete was up with the sun. After hearing that disturbing moan—disturbing on too many levels—he’d tried turning in early. But sleep had been impossible and he’d spent hours tossing and turning, thinking of Cassidy over there with someone else while his muscles cramped and protested. He’d tried to block the awful images from his mind, but they remained, prodding at him like a sore tooth: Cassidy with some suit-wearing jerk; Cassidy getting excited; Cassidy twisting and moaning.

  Cassidy climaxing.

  He couldn’t stand it.

  By seven, he was showered, standing at his closet and staring at the lack of professional clothes. Oh, he had a suit, the one he’d worn for his brothers’ marriages. Gil had fussed, trying to insist that he buy a new, more expensive one, but Pete refused. He hated the idea of shopping for the thing, trying them on, getting fitted. Then he’d have to pick out a shirt, and a tie, maybe cuff links.... He hated suits.

  But Cassidy loved them.

  Stiff and fuming, Pete jerked on khaki shorts and a navy pullover, then paced until it got late enough to go to her place. She generally slept in on Saturday mornings. He knew her schedule as well as he knew his own. Right now she’d be curled in bed, all warm and soft and ... He couldn’t wait a minute more.

  He went out his back door and stomped across the rain-wet grass to her patio. He pressed his nose against the glass doors, but it was dark inside, silent. Daunted, Pete looked around, and discovered that her bedroom window was still open.

  Shit. What if the guy was still in there? What if he’d spent the night? What if, right this very moment, he was spooned up against her soft backside?

  A feral growl rose from Pete’s throat, startling him with the viciousness of it. No woman had ever made him growl. He left that type of behavior to his brother Sam, who was more animal than man.

  Now Gil, he was the type of man Cassidy professed to want. A suit, serious, a mover and shaker. A great guy, his brother Gil. So what would Gil do?

  He’d be noble for sure, Pete decided. Gil would wait and see if she did have company, and if so, he’d give them privacy.

  That thought was so repugnant, Pete started shaking.

  To hell with it. His fist rapped sharply on Cassidy’s glass door.

  A second later, her bedroom curtain moved and Cassidy peered out. “Pete?” she groused in a sleep-froggy voice. “What are you doing?”

  “Open up.” Pete tried to emulate Gil, to present himself in a calm, civilized manner. “You alone in there?” he snarled.

  Her eyes were huge and round in the early morning light. “No, I have the Dallas Cowboys all tucked into my bed. It’s a squeeze, but we’re managing.”

  Pete sucked in a breath. “Cassidy ...”

  “Of course I’m alone, you idiot.” Her frowning gaze darted around the yard in confusion. “What time is it?”

  She was alone. The tension eased out of Pete, making his knees weak. “I dunno, seven or so.” The chill morning air frosted his breath and prickled his skin into goose bumps. “Time to get up and keep your neighbor company.”

  “Seven!”

  He took five steps and looked at her through the screen. She had a bad case of bedhead and her eyes were puffy, still vague with sleep. She looked tumbled and tired and his heart softened with a strange, deep thump. “Open up, Cassidy.”

  Still confused, not that he blamed her, she rubbed her eyes, pushed her hair out of her face. “Yeah, all right. Keep your pants on.” She started to turn away.

  “What fun will that be?”

  Her head snapped back around. Seconds ticked by before she said, “Get away from my window, you perv. I have to get dressed.”

  The thump turned into a hard, steady pulse. “Don’t bother on my account.”

  But she’d already walked away, so she missed his sentiments on the matter. Pete thought about peeking, knew he wouldn’t and went back to the door to wait. Impatience hummed in his veins. He was a man on a mission, a man driven by testosterone and the ancient, savage need to stake a claim.

  The fluorescent kitchen light flickered on and seconds later, her door slid open.

  Assuming he’d come in without a greeting, Cassidy slunk away to the sink to start the coffee. Around an enormous yawn, she asked, “What’s wrong? Why are you up so early?”

  Pete soaked in the sight of her. Now seeing her with new eyes—new lusty eyes—he realized just how appealing she appeared with her long hair hanging in ropes around her shoulders and her skin flushed and warm. Plaid flannel pants hugged her behind and her black tank top molded to her breasts. Her feet were bare, her toes curled against the tile floor.

  With the morning air so cool, her nipples had puckered.

  Puckered nipples had never taken out his knees before, but now Pete groped for a chair so he wouldn’t collapse into a horny heap in the middle of her kitchen. Like Pavlov’s dogs’, his mouth started watering. He could just imagine pulling that skimpy top up and over her head, baring her breasts, taking a plump nipple into his mouth....

  In between measuring out fragrant coffee grounds, Cassidy glanced up at him. “Pete?”

  “I couldn’t sleep,” he mumbled, staring in awe at those breasts, mesmerized by the possibilities. He’d never really thought about her breasts before. But boy, she had them. Nice ones, too. Sort of small but perky, like the rest of her.

  Someone had touched that lush little firm body just last night. Someone other than him. Pete hated that thought.

  “So I don’t get to sleep either?” The coffeemaker started to hiss and spit. Cassidy pulled out a chair and slumped boneless in her seat, putting her head on her folded arms. Thick, curly hair went everywhere.

  Pete didn’t think about it—he just reached across the table and drew his fingers across a long tendril, feeling the texture, the weight and warmth. He was close enough, so he leaned forward and brought it to his nose, breathing in the fragrance of her shampoo.

  Cassidy froze. By small degrees, she tipped her face up until her eyes were visible above her forearm and she could lock gazes with him. He still had hold of her hair, still had it pressed to his nose.

  She rose up a bit more. “Uh ... Pete?”

  Neither of them blinked. “Yeah?” He sounded hoarse, but damn, her hair was soft and sweet—as erogenous as her silky skin or a peek at that luscious behind. He imagined how her hair would feel slipping over his chest, his stomach, his thighs.... He dropped his hand and sat back.

  Cassidy continued to stare at him. As if moving away from a dangerous animal, she slowly pressed her spine into the back of her seat. Her breasts were soft and round under the clinging shirt, trembling with her fast breaths. Her tight little nipples jutted forward.

  Pete tried, without much effort, to keep his attention on her face. It was futile.

  Cassidy shoved back her chair. “I’ll, ah, I’ll be right back.”

  Pete stared up at her with a sense of déjà vu. “Where’re you going?”

  “I have to ... brush my teeth and stuff.” She ran off before he could stop her.

&n
bsp; Pete got up and paced. He felt insane, a little lost, and a whole lot aroused. Once the coffee finished dripping, he poured two cups, doctoring Cassidy’s the same way she always took it, with lots of sugar and cream. He even rummaged through her cabinet and found some prepackaged brownies, knowing she’d want one.

  He was leaning against the sink, sipping his coffee and thinking of the deliciously depraved things he wanted to do to her, when she shyly came back into the kitchen. Pete stalled with the cup to his mouth.

  She hadn’t changed clothes, but she’d brushed out her hair and neatly braided it, leaving flirty little curls to tease her temples, her nape. Her face was pink, her lips shiny with clear gloss.

  She’d fixed up for him?

  Very slowly, Pete set his coffee aside. “I was thinking, Cassidy ...”

  She swallowed hard and charged into the room, grabbing her coffee with near desperation. After downing half of it, she wiped her mouth and in the process removed most of the gloss she’d just applied. Pete grinned. She was ... adorable.

  How come he’d never noticed that before? He remembered how, as soon as he knew Ariel wanted Sam, he’d stopped thinking of her sexually. She became family to him. Had he done that with Cassidy, relegating her to the category of friend and not allowing himself to think of her in any other way? He hadn’t wanted to screw up with Ariel, to alienate her or his brother. And God knew he valued Cassidy’s friendship too much to risk it.

  Visibly bracing herself, Cassidy prompted him, saying, “Yeah? You were thinking?”

  Usually they were comfortable with each other, but now she seemed edgy. Pete didn’t like that, so he decided to ease into things.

  “Are you dating anyone?” When she said yes, then Pete could suggest she date him, and they could move on from there.

  But Cassidy shook her head. “You know I’m not.”

  Pete drew back, narrowing his eyes in thought. “You can tell me anything, you know. We’re ... friends.”

  “Sure.” When Pete just waited, she said, “I don’t have time to date.”

  Pete blinked. If she wasn’t dating, then it had been what—a one-night stand? No. He shook his head. Cassidy wasn’t into those any more than he was.

  He decided to approach the idea of sex from a different angle. “You didn’t come over to watch the movie with me last night.”

  She blushed. Blushed. What was that about?

  “I know.” She shifted her feet. “I had ... other stuff to do.”

  Yeah, he knew what other stuff—like moaning out an orgasm. He locked his jaw and clenched his teeth. “Another guy to see?”

  The blush gave way to frowning annoyance. “I just said no, didn’t I?”

  “But ...” Why was she fudging the truth? “You’re saying you didn’t have a date last night?”

  Exasperation sharpened her tone. “How many ways can I say it, Pete? I’m not dating anyone. I haven’t had a date in a year. You see me every damned day, so I’d think you’d know it.”

  No date. Pete stood there for fifteen seconds before other ideas started squeezing past his confusion. Ho boy.

  If she hadn’t been with a guy, that meant she’d been alone when he heard that soft, excited, and sexual moan. And if she’d been alone and moaning like that, then she’d been ...

  His abdomen clenched with sexual images so vivid he thought he might collapse. Tenderness rolled over him, too. She’d been alone. All by herself. He stared at her, feeling both soft in the heart and hard in the crotch.

  Bless her heart. He wanted to smile and hold her. He wanted to strip her naked and pull her down to the floor.

  It was still up in the air exactly what he’d do, but he knew where to start. Throbbing with need, Pete took a small step toward her. “If I kissed you—”

  Her eyes widened. “You’re going to kiss me?”

  Shock made her look almost comical. “If I did, what would you do?”

  Her mouth opened twice before she whispered, “I don’t know.”

  “Would you slap me?”

  That had her frowning again. “No.”

  He took another step toward her. “Would you push me away?”

  Cheeks flushed with warm color, she shook her head. “Of course not.”

  “Great.” Pete moved closer still. He took her coffee cup and set it on the counter. “What would you do?”

  She stared up at him, her blue-green eyes shining, her lips parted. “I’d kiss you back,” she said on a breathless gasp, and then she attacked him.

  Pete staggered back from her assault. And it was an assault. She had a death grip on his neck, her mouth plastered to his so hard his lips were smashed against his teeth. The small of his back landed with jarring impact against the sharp edge of the counter.

  “Mmmrrrmm.” Pete tried to speak, to tell her to slow down, but she wasn’t exactly a weak woman and he didn’t want to hurt her. When he tried to pull back, her fingers locked into his hair. Now that hurt.

  Pete turned so she was the one nailed against the counter. He covered a breast with his hand.

  That got her attention.

  Got his, too. Boy, she felt good.

  Cassidy freed his mouth and groaned, “Pete.”

  Her eyes were closed, her heartbeat hammering madly against his palm. He smiled and said, “Cassidy.”

  She tried to kiss him again, but Pete dodged her mouth. “Take it easy, okay? How about you just stand there looking like you look, and let me do the kissing?”

  “Was ... was I bad?”

  “Maybe just a little out of practice.”

  Her lashes lowered to hide her eyes. “Sorry. It’s been over a year.”

  Shocked and appalled, Pete paused in his ascent toward her mouth. “A year since you’ve been kissed?”

  “Yeah.” And then, defensively, “I’ve been busy.”

  But not too busy to pleasure herself last night. Oh man, that was fodder for many fantasies to come. Had she been thinking of him? Now his toes were curling.

  “Jesus, I’m glad I woke you up.” He pried her fingers out of his hair.

  “Me, too.” She tried a grin. “So, uh, now what?”

  A loaded question for sure. Pete caught her waist and hefted her up to the countertop. “That’s up to you, but I’d say you have a year’s worth of kissing to make up for.”

  Cassidy smiled. “Then let’s get started.”

  Three

  Cassidy had to fight against swooning. All it took was a braid in her hair, and Pete wanted her? Who knew?

  Her hair was so long that braiding it was an awkward pain in the butt, a lesson in flexibility, but hey, if it turned Pete into a ravening animal, she’d braid it every single day.

  With her fanny on the countertop, she was able to look down at him. But he didn’t meet her gaze. No, he was staring at her chest. More specifically, her nipples, which even now were stiff against the thin material of her tank top.

  It was a little embarrassing, definitely not something she was used to. She’d sort of figured on Pete being more of a challenge.

  Clearing her throat, Cassidy asked, “So did you come over here just for this?”

  Distracted, he said, “Yeah.” And then his hands covered her breasts and his eyes closed as he murmured, “Damn, you feel good.”

  She would have slid right off the counter except that Pete was there, standing between her knees, keeping her in place.

  His thumbs brushed over her nipples and it felt so good, so electric, Cassidy slumped back and banged her head on the wall. Now half reclining, she used her elbows to support herself and absorbed the wonderful sensation of being touched by Pete Watson.

  He leaned forward, murmured something low, and then his mouth was at her breast, his lips plucking at her nipple through the material of the shirt. Cassidy groaned and said, “I was thinking about this last night.”

  “I know,” he whispered in between taunting little nips with his teeth.

  That momentarily stumped her. “What d
o you mean, you know?”

  He paused, his hands stilling on the hem of her shirt. His dark brown eyes looked velvety and warm when they met hers; then he shrugged and tugged the shirt above her breasts, baring her to his gaze. He swallowed and color slashed his cheekbones. “I was thinking it, too,” he admitted in husky tones. “Something happened between us yesterday, that’s all I meant.”

  “Oh.”

  His mouth, scalding hot and damp, closed around her stiffened nipple.

  “Oh.” Cassidy arched her back, offering herself to him, amazed at the intensity of the feelings he gave her.

  Pete sucked languidly. His tongue swirled around her, his teeth occasionally nipping before sucking softly again. “You taste good, Cassidy.”

  She was in the most awkward position, cramped against the wall beside her sink, her legs half dangling off the counter at either side of his lean hips. She couldn’t move much, couldn’t really lie down or sit up. “Pete?”

  He switched to the other nipple, latching on hungrily before slowing down, teasing with his tongue and teeth. “Hmmm?”

  “Let’s go to my bedroom.”

  His head lifted. His eyes were almost black now, heavy-lidded. He was breathing hard, his lips wet. “Yeah.”

  Before Cassidy could push off the counter, he put his arms around her hips and lifted, holding her tight to his chest, her legs around his waist as he made his way down the hall.

  With one big hand splayed wide over her behind, Pete growled, “You know where this is headed, right?”

  Hands braced on his shoulders, Cassidy gave him a blank look. The friction of his hard abdomen against the soft apex of her thighs was enough to leave her brainless. She nodded. “We’re going to have sex. At least I hope we are.”

  Pete gave a rough laugh, surged into her room, and dumped her on her bed. He immediately followed her down, sprawling out over her, catching her hands and pinning them beside her head. “Damn right we are.” His smile faded. “But I have to know you won’t have regrets, Cassidy.”