That only seemed to tick her off more. “Cut the crap, Wyatt. You’re just doing this to prove a point, aren’t you?”
He thought the only point he was making was that she was driving him fucking nuts and that he would just about pay money to see her naked. Apparently he hadn’t been clear enough.
“The only point I’m trying to prove is that I want you.” He dipped his nose into her hair, noting how CJ smelled very much like a woman. He had never detected her scent standing next to her at work, but holding her against him now, leaning over, running his mouth and nose over her smooth hair and skin, he could smell a soft, sinful, clean smell.
Outdoor sex. That’s what popped into his head. “And you want me, too, CJ. Don’t you?”
At some point, her hands had dug into his shirt, gripping him as she studied his shoulder. Lips just a hairbreadth from his, she whispered, “You’re a disgusting human being.”
It lacked any conviction, spoken in the softest voice he’d ever heard from her.
He still cupped her breast and he squeezed, dragging a low gasp from her, which she quickly masked by clearing her throat.
He said, “You’re not any prize either, you know.”
She gave a little laugh, and damn if she didn’t lean forward a bit, causing his thumb to make contact with her nipple again, buried behind her bulky shirt and bra.
“You’re such a Pretty Boy,” she insulted him, even as her breath hitched and her thigh shifted between his.
Her neck was begging for a kiss. Wyatt gave it one, then sucked softly, drawing her warm flesh into his mouth. CJ’s nails dug into his chest.
“Hard-ass,” he murmured into her ear.
Her hands went around his back under his jacket, inviting interesting chest-on-chest contact. CJ had been hiding a C-cup, by his best educated guess.
“Bonehead ...”
Wyatt cut her off, locking his mouth over hers and giving her a kiss he’d been tasting for months.
CJ clung to Wyatt like a barnacle and counted herself among the many women conquered by his tongue. Oy, he knew how to use it.
Here, as he ran it along her bottom lip. There, as he teased her mouth open with it. Everywhere, as he raced inside, the hot, possessive, dominating kiss ripping the air out of her lungs and sending heat pooling in her practical, waist-high panties.
It didn’t surprise her that he was good at this.
What shocked the hell out of her was her own reaction. Her own wet, sliding, grinding, eager, and desperate reaction, her nails on his back, her hips bumping forward, her tongue reaching out to plunder his mouth in return. Her moans of encouragement, her leg locking around his, the telltale dampness between her thighs.
She was out of control. The orgasm-free years since her son had been born had caught up with her, and she was overwhelmed by the need to toss Wyatt down on the security desk and have her way with him.
That would teach him.
When he reached for the top button on her shirt, she found the courage to break off the kiss with minimal whimpering.
Wyatt let her pull back, but he still held her and he still worked her buttons. The first was free and he was on to number two. “Come home with me.”
Hello. CJ swallowed hard as the second button gave way. He pressed a warm, moist kiss into the opening of her shirt.
“Are you crazy or just stupid? We have to work together.”
“Mmm, your sweet talking gets me hot. Call me stupid again.” His tongue dipped down low, sliding a wet path between her breasts.
Instead of yelping in delight like she wanted to, she yanked his head back and said, “I’m serious.”
His eyes locked with hers. His grip on her ass—hell, when had he done that?—loosened and she took the opportunity to scramble back away from him.
His breathing was ragged, like her own, and his hair was sticking up, which made him look even sexier, which gave her yet another reason to hate him. He looked amazing and she probably looked like a startled rabbit.
In a waitress shirt.
“I have a deal for you, White. One where we both get what we want.”
“I don’t want to hear this.” He couldn’t possibly know what she wanted, that for just once, she wanted to shed her responsibilities and act as selfish and unrestrained as Wyatt did.
Not for one minute did she regret her son, Sam, despite his autism, but she was just so tired. Sam got the majority of her energy, then her job sucked up the rest, and she’d forgotten what it was like to be free from worry, to live in the moment. How could he understand that?
Wyatt’s main worry was probably that his brand of hair gel had been discontinued.
“I’ll take the transfer, CJ. You don’t have to.”
That got her attention. But she shook her head. “You can’t. Nordstrom won’t let you, you know that. I know he won’t let me transfer either, since we’re in the middle of a case. I was just blowing smoke before.”
His hands clenched. “You know, you need to stop using words like ‘blow.’ Just erase them from your memory, or you’re going to find yourself flat on your back on this desk.”
Tempted to say “blow” in a clear, loud tone, she clamped her lips shut and stuck her hands behind her back.
Though he looked suspicious, he continued. “I don’t mean a transfer to another case. I meant after the investigation, I’ll transfer to another field office.”
Her pursed lips fell open. “You’ll leave Chicago?”
He shrugged. “Sure, why not? I don’t have any family here, no wife, no girlfriend, no attachments. Maybe I’ll go somewhere south.”
It was too good to be true. He was volunteering to take himself and his sexy smile far away from her. “What’s the catch?”
“No catch. You just have to agree to spend the night with me tomorrow. All night. And there will be no sleeping involved.” He closed the gap between them, running his thumb along her bottom lip. “What do you think?”
She thought it was time to hurt him. “Are you bribing me? That you’ll move only if I have sex with you?”
It was disgusting, outrageous, and gave a whole new meaning to the term “indecent.”
She was going to do it.
He may be a pig, but he was a gorgeous pig and the man could work a nipple.
Like he was doing to her, right that moment. Brushing, rubbing, rolling ... good God.
Just imagine what he could do with the rest of her.
“Don’t think of it as a bribe,” he said in a low voice, his feet edging between hers so that her legs spread automatically. “Think of it as two people getting exactly what they want. We both want to have sex with each other, but we both know a relationship between us would never work.”
CJ tilted her head as his lips moved across her neck. “That’s true. Because I hate you.”
Maybe hate was too strong a word. But she seriously disliked him. She really did.
“I know.” The idea didn’t seem to bother him as he navigated his way down to her cleavage.
It really was the perfect solution. She got to quench her thirst for Wyatt’s body, then never had to set eyes on him again after this case ended. “I accept your deal.”
She allowed her fingers to snake around his back and tug his shirt out of his pants. Gliding across his hard, muscular back, she let her eyes drift closed. It may be a huge mistake to sleep with Wyatt, but it was going to feel really good doing it.
“Just one more thing.”
Stiffening, she glared at him. She should have known. Her mother always said if it was too good to be true, it usually was. “Oh, here it comes. Sixty seconds after I agree, and you’re already adding contingencies.”
The corners of his mouth lifted. “Just one. I promise.” He tugged on her ponytail. “While you’re at my house, you have to wear whatever I want.”
Not.
“I don’t think so!” He’d have her wearing half of Frederick’s of Hollywood. The small half. No way she was covering he
r backside in something the size of a slingshot.
“Then the whole thing is off.”
Damn, she should have known he’d pull that. Digging her nails into his back, she enjoyed it when he winced. “So what does that mean, like anything?”
Nothing could induce her to put tassels on her breasts or stuff herself into a leather bra. Or worse. “You’re not going to want me to wear edible underwear, are you?”
His eyebrow rose. “Only if you want to.”
Hah.
Of course she didn’t ... well, maybe if ... no, absolutely not. There was wild, and then there was just unnecessary. If he was hungry, he could have a fruit roll-up. It’d be about the same thing.
“Fine.” If she was going to do this, she might as well do it right. He could slut her up within reason. He’d probably have it off her in five minutes anyway. She let him press a hard kiss on her.
Then she added in warning, “But I’m not wearing anything that hurts.”
“Damn,” came his strangled reply.
CJ kicked her shoes off by the front door of her apartment and sighed. It wasn’t even eleven, but she was exhausted. Yet she knew sleep wouldn’t come easy tonight. Not when she had just made out with her coworker, who just happened to be exactly the type of man she swore she would never be involved with again.
Not only had she kissed him in a lobby, she had agreed to spend the night with him and wear whatever he wanted. She should be appalled, not looking forward to it. But somehow she couldn’t muster up the necessary outrage, not when she wanted so desperately to just let go for once. To do something wild and selfish and irrational.
Padding softly up the stairs in her socks, she saw a light on in her mother’s room. She knocked, then opened the door. “Mom? I’m home.”
Her mother, nestled in her easy chair and tucked under a quilt, looked up from her book and smiled. “How was work, Christine?”
“Fine.” She felt the urge to laugh and squelched it. Leaning against the doorframe, she said, “How was Sam for you tonight?”
Worry ate around the corners of her heart, as it always did when she thought about her five-year-old son, but her mother just smiled.
“Oh, we had a good time. We read his favorite book and watched a Christmas special on TV.”
CJ honestly didn’t know how she would handle raising a child so difficult to understand and communicate with as Sam was if it weren’t for the constant support of her mother. She sometimes wished that she could find the inner peace about Sam’s autism that her mother had. CJ just loved him and worried about him and hoped for the best.
“That’s good.” She hesitated, looking down at the carpet, hoping like hell she wasn’t blushing. Almost thirty years old, and she was embarrassed to confess that she had plans to spend the night with a man. “Are you busy tomorrow night, Mom? Because I may have to stay out overnight.”
Her mother looked surprised, with good reason. CJ had been quite firm with Nordstrom that she couldn’t take cases that kept her away longer than twelve hours or required travel.
“That’s unusual,” her mother said, putting her bookmark in her novel. “But I can be here, sure.”
“Thanks.” CJ made the mistake of meeting her mother’s gaze and she felt heat blaze across her face, giving her away in Technicolor scarlet. “Lying Slut” might as well be stamped on her forehead.
But her mother just studied her, a slight smile on her face. “Christine, do you have a date tomorrow?”
Reduced to fifteen years old and caught with John Wilson’s hand on her breast, she squirmed. “Sort of.”
“That’s wonderful. I’m so pleased you’re getting out of the house. It’s not normal to be your age and never go out with men.” Her mother tucked her graying brown hair behind her ear. “It’s been three years since Scott left and as far as I know, you’ve never been on a date in all that time.”
This wasn’t a date either. It was sweaty sex with Wyatt, probably involving sheer black lingerie and multiple orgasms. That was her hope anyway. The orgasms, not the Band-Aid-sized bra.
When she didn’t say anything, her mother continued, her tone casual but curious. “It must be beyond a date if you’re thinking about spending the night. Anyone I know?”
There were certain places CJ didn’t want to go with her mother, and the bedroom was one of them. Yet her mother looked calm and unperturbed, as if they talked sex every day, giving each other advice on the best positions and how to please your man during oral sex.
CJ was mortified. She said reluctantly, “I’m going out with Wyatt Maddock.”
And now her mother knew precisely what she was planning on doing with Wyatt. All night.
“Wyatt?” Her mother finally looked ruffled. “Oh, my. Make sure you take condoms, Christine.”
His reputation preceded him.
With no idea what to say, CJ just nodded. “Of course.”
She hadn’t even given any thought to protection. Just the idea of going to buy condoms made her want to call this whole thing off. She couldn’t just assume Wyatt would have condoms, though she thought it was highly likely he owned stock in Trojan. She hadn’t bought condoms since she had been training at Quantico.
Immediately after that she had met Scott and they had gotten married, and he had provided the protection until he had walked out two months after Sam had been diagnosed.
Thinking out loud, she said, “I guess I’ll go buy some tomorrow.”
Her mother said, “Oh, I have some you can use.” And she stood up and riffled through her dresser drawer.
“What?” Oh, Lord, her mother had condoms. “Why do you have those?”
Okay, so that was an asinine, idiotic, obvious question, but her mother baked—she wasn’t supposed to have condoms.
Holding the half-empty—good God, half-empty—box out to her, her mother said in amusement, “It’s been over ten years since your father died. I’m only fifty-five.”
Taking the offering, CJ backed up. “I’m going to bed.” To stare at the ceiling and ponder how between Wyatt and her mother, her psyche had suffered irreparable damage tonight.
“Good night, dear.”
“Good night.” CJ bolted down the hall, stopping at Sam’s bedroom door and peeking in on him.
His bedroom was tiny, but CJ had been grateful to find a three-bedroom town house to rent after her mom had moved in with her six months after Scott had left. She relied on her mother in a way she hadn’t been able to rely on her carefree, life-of-the-party husband, even before they had found out Sam was autistic.
Though sometimes she just ached with wanting to make life easier for Sam, as she watched him sleep, his chest rising and falling beneath the dinosaur sheet, she knew she wouldn’t trade him for anything. Every moment with him was a pure gift, an appreciation for every accomplishment and a joy that he was her child. Unfortunately, his father hadn’t felt the same way.
CJ didn’t touch Sam, knowing all too well from experience that if he was awakened, it could take hours to get him back to sleep. But the sight of him snuggled up to his stuffed puppy, peaceful in sleep, made her smile. Awake, sometimes Sam looked downright tortured, but asleep his mind was at rest.
Every minute of every day for the last five years she had done everything with Sam in mind, first and foremost. But tomorrow night, she was going to do something just for her. Wyatt was a better man than her ex—she knew that just from working with him every day. He was a hard worker, responsible, honest. But he was still a playboy, and while that was all wrong for her on a daily basis, she had an idea it would be all right for one night.
She needed to let go, to live, to burst out of the confines of her life and give her body some much-needed attention. The oil in her car got changed every three thousand miles, the blades in the lawn mower sharpened every spring, and this was no different. Just a little tune-up, to make sure all her parts were still in working order.
Closing Sam’s door, she headed toward the bathroom, the con
doms still in her hand, excitement surpassing fear and nerves. This was going to be quite a night.
Maybe she should have let Wyatt get edible underwear after all.
He was acting like a girl. After switching the tablecloth in his dining room twice, Wyatt commanded himself to get a goddamn grip.
This was CJ. She would probably be happy with beer nuts on the couch.
That was actually something he liked about her. Unlike so many acrylic women he dated, CJ was not high-maintenance.
Yet he didn’t want her to look around his apartment and draw any negative conclusions about him. For some weird-ass reason, he wanted CJ to like him. Or at least not to hate him. And to not be disgusted with herself for wanting to jump his bones.
He figured that’s where a lot of CJ’s animosity came from. She was pissed at herself for being attracted to him. Which he could relate to. He was having a hard time accepting his own body’s response to her.
Why that had him tied up in knots and wasting the better part of a day dragging out his fake Christmas tree and sad-looking ornaments so his apartment would look more ... something he had no idea. Most years he didn’t even put the tree up if he wasn’t dating anyone seriously, which he hadn’t been for a good three years now, and if he did, he sure didn’t do it the first week in December. But there it was, a little on the scraggly side with a crooked star on top.
After the tree, he had come close to electrocuting himself stringing white lights around his enclosed patio, and as he quickly set the dishes on the red tablecloth he had found in the back of one very dusty cabinet, he wondered if he shouldn’t have gone out with Brandy Dempsey tonight instead. At least he knew what he was doing, where he stood with a woman like that. With CJ, he felt like he was swimming in pudding.
Maybe it wasn’t too late to cancel the whole damn thing.
The doorbell rang.
His cock leapt forward in greeting. His gut cramped painfully. His mouth went drier than the wine.
Or maybe he should cut the crap and just rip her clothes off the minute she walked in the door.
Bad Boys In Black Tie Page 10
