Harlequin KISS November 2014 Box Set: Behind Closed Doors...Fired by Her FlingWho's Calling the Shots?Nine Month Countdown

by Anne Oliver

  She let out a little huff of ironic laughter, searching for the most hurtful words she could find. Her mind was blank. She could only tell him how she felt—it was all she had left right now.

  ‘You’re worse than your father. You are possibly the most horrible person I’ve ever met. No. Not possibly. You are.’

  His face didn’t move. She waited for his reaction—his anger—but there was none.

  She opened her mouth again. ‘You’re disgusting. I know why you’re single now, Jack—you’re a horrible, horrible person and I hate you.’

  The words came without her thinking. She didn’t even mean them any more, but a blinding need to hurt him had taken over her brain and her mouth.

  ‘I feel sorry for the people who work for you and I feel sorry for your family and anyone who has to put up with you. You’re cold and mean and a terrible person. I hate you and I wish I’d never met you and I definitely wish I’d never kissed you and I’m glad we didn’t become friends or anything else. You make me sick.’

  Finally Brooke took a breath. The fog cleared and she tried to remember what she’d said. Still Jack stood before her, starting at her. Unmoving. Her heart hurt. Her arms hurt where she was pinching them. Everything hurt and nothing she was saying was working. She needed to leave. Now. She wanted to see her sisters and not to feel like this any more.

  But just as she unfolded her arms to move she felt him. He moved quickly and he was in front of her, not touching, but standing so close she couldn’t move. When she looked up his face was still hard, his mouth turned down at the edges, but his eyes were different. They were hot and angry and set on hers.

  ‘Are you finished?’ he asked, his voice a low, threatening growl.

  He was too close and he stood over her. She didn’t feel scared of him but she did feel scared. She’d wanted this reaction. She’d finally made him feel something—that was what she’d wanted. He felt...what? Anger? Something... This was just what she’d wanted but right now she wasn’t sure if she’d done the right thing. Her mind flicked back to what she’d said. She couldn’t be sure of every word but she knew she hadn’t meant most of it. She’d just wanted him to react and now he had.

  ‘You’re angry, Brooke. Good. Get angry. Get angry at that jerk who didn’t deserve you—get angry at me.’

  Her breathing was now so heavy her breasts were moving up and down against his chest. She didn’t answer him right away—she’d used up all her words and she just wanted to look at him. She wanted to watch his reaction. She wanted to know if he was as angry as she was.

  The answer came seconds later when she felt his mouth, hot and hard against hers. His tongue pushed against her lips violently. His teeth nipped and he pushed at her, his arms coming around her back to pull her closer. Brooke pulled back, shocked, but he didn’t let her go. For a second their eyes met, and she saw the anger in them before he closed them and set about kissing her again. Even harder. Even more passionately.

  They weren’t nice, loving kisses. They were genuine I-hate-you kisses. She felt his hate and his anger and his need to hurt her. She felt it in his lips and in the way he flicked his tongue as if the pleasure was all his. She wanted to push him away. She hated him even more. He had hurt her and she didn’t want him to think she wanted this. But for some perverted reason she did. She wanted him pushing against her and kissing her and her stupid brain wouldn’t let her pull away.

  She pushed her lips closer, pushed her hips and her breasts and everything she had closer to him, snaking her hands up to his big shoulders and gripping them tightly, digging her fingernails in hard. His free hand moved up to her cheek and he cupped it as he kissed her, deeper and deeper, pushing her back further and further, till she was against the wall.

  Before her brain could even register what was going on her body had reacted and she’d hoisted herself up, straddling his waist, which made him push her even harder into the wall. She felt him, long and hard against her, and moved her hand down till she felt him through his jeans. A deep growl escaped from his mouth and he left her lips for a second so he could kiss her neck, underneath her ear and further down. But these weren’t gentle kisses either. They were hard, and he sucked as he went, his hands expertly moving behind her back to unclip the clasp on her bra.

  There was no stopping now. She knew that. She accepted that. She didn’t want to stop. She needed him close. She wanted to hurt him—to make him feel the violence of her kisses. When his face moved back up to hers she didn’t give him time to look into her eyes. She kissed him again, biting his bottom lip and sucking it in, letting him know that she hated him as much as he hated her.

  ‘I know you don’t hate me, Brooke.’

  His voice murmured in her ear as he kissed her neck. Brooke’s blood was running hot and heavy. She did hate him. So much.

  ‘I do hate you.’

  ‘You don’t hate me.’

  He didn’t stop kissing as he spoke. His hands explored her body and she responded with a loud moan as she arched into his touch.

  ‘I do. You won’t give me what I want.’

  ‘What do you want?’

  Jack pushed her skirt up and out of the way. His fingers explored beneath her underwear. She felt him gently sliding against her wetness.

  ‘That—I want that.’

  She wanted that. She wanted him. She wanted comfort. She wanted everything he had to offer.

  Brooke kissed him hard. She bit his lower lip and he responded by pushing her against the wall. Her legs clung to him. She pushed into him. Angry and sad that she couldn’t get what she wanted. Annoyed that she even wanted it. She should have known better than to fall for the wrong man.

  Jack kissed her back, just as hard, and with the strength she knew he had lifted her up against the wall. She clawed frantically at his buttons. She needed to feel his skin. And when her hands found what they were looking for relief rushed to her head. She let her hands wander across his muscles and up to his shoulders as his large palms wrapped around her thighs and pulled her closer to him.

  Their mouths didn’t stop. Not for a second. When he wasn’t kissing her mouth he was kissing her eyelids, or her neck, or her jaw, and she threw her head back to allow him access to every part of her. The only sound was the heavy breaths they took and her groan of pleasure as he finally removed her underwear.

  Finally they paused. Made eye contact. This wasn’t just sex. Couldn’t be just sex. She wanted more, and when she looked at him she knew it was more.

  He lifted a hand, dragged his thumb across her bottom lip, then kissed her. Long and hard and deep. Brooke forgot to breathe. She kissed him back, forgetting the sex, forgetting everything else except that kiss and the way they seemed to be drinking each other in, taking away each other’s anger and leaving themselves with something more pure. Something much deeper.

  By the time he pulled back she was ready. She had to have him. With a quick movement he was naked from the waist down and pushing on her, asking for permission. Which she gave, with a push and a long, hard slide.

  Brooke couldn’t help it. Her head flew back and the moan was out of her mouth before she could even think to stop it. His noises were much deeper, much more guttural, and they came from the back of his throat.

  She focussed on the noise, on the way he was sliding up and down, and then on how he was using one finger to circle her clit before plunging into her again. She kissed his neck, now clammy with sweat, kissed his jaw, until finally she put her mouth over his and let her kisses match his strokes, faster and faster and deeper and deeper, until she felt it burst and shatter and she had to tell him to stop.

  He stilled. He wasn’t done. He hadn’t finished and he wasn’t going anywhere. He shifted as she shook and she held tight, not wanting him to go anywhere.

  ‘Is that what you needed?’ he growled into her ear.

&
nbsp; ‘Yes. That. Again.’

  She moved to allow the sparks to subside and then start all over again. She was sensitive, and her orgasm sat right at the surface, so when he started to slide again she felt herself shudder and shake. But he didn’t stop. He kept going. Pushing and going deeper, pausing to look down—clearly turned on by what he was seeing. She looked too, and watched as he slid in and out. Her fire sparked again. So close to the surface. But she didn’t have time for release because it was his turn and he pushed into her with a force she wasn’t expecting, banging her head on the wall behind her.

  ‘Ouch!’

  ‘Sorry...sorry!’ His eyes were glazed but his hand came up to cradle the back of her head.

  She felt his legs buckle a little, but he held her up. She lifted a hand to cover his on the back of her head. Warm, big... She put her small hand over his and he met her eyes.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he whispered, his voice deep and hoarse.

  ‘I know,’ she whispered back, waiting for him to let her drop. But he didn’t let her go. He wrapped his big arms around her and she buried her face in his warm skin, breathing in his scent and placing soft, tender kisses on his biceps.

  They stood naked and silent for minutes before Brooke pulled away, brushing the hair from his forehead where it had fallen. She lifted herself up onto her toes and kissed his lips. This kiss was different. Soft and tender. He’d taken away her anger. He’d let her rage and allowed her to release herself without judgement. Without argument. And she was grateful for that. She’d needed that. She’d needed him.

  ‘That was a bad thing you did, Jack.’

  ‘I know.’

  His voice was soft and she felt it travel through his chest and into hers.

  ‘Are you going to tell me why you did it?’

  She watched him, watched his eyes, sure he was going to tell her. That he had a plan. That sending her on that disastrous date had a hidden meaning she didn’t know about. Maybe hoping that he’d sent her on a date with that dope so she wouldn’t fall for anyone else. Because he wanted her to himself.

  It couldn’t be for ratings and great TV. She understood him now. She knew about his father and what he was making him do. All she wanted was to know that they were in this together. But he didn’t say anything. He just shook his head.

  ‘No?’

  He still didn’t say anything. Just lifted a hand to her hair and pushed it back, away from her face. It was a tender movement that didn’t make any sense when he still wasn’t letting her in. Brooke felt she was on a rollercoaster. Up and down, frightened and happy, exhilarated and angry—and right then, after what had happened, she just couldn’t take it.

  Brooke pushed against him till he released her. As she righted her clothes and retrieved her handbag from the floor a weakening sadness spread over her. Would Jack ever give her what she needed? Would he ever really get rid of that wall he’d built up in front of himself and let her in? Trust her?

  ‘Brooke. Don’t go yet.’

  He didn’t reach for her, just stood with his hands by his sides. Brooke looked into his eyes. More sadness. He was sad too. But, as much as he was sad, he wasn’t offering her any more.

  ‘I have to, Jack. I’m afraid my broken old heart can’t handle this. I don’t know why you’re holding back, and I don’t know why you don’t trust me, but you don’t. I don’t think you ever will. And I can’t just have meaningless sex with you—I like you too much.’

  ‘I can’t tell you what’s going on, Brooke.’

  ‘Yes, you can. But you won’t. And if I’m not on your team, Jack, I’m on the other side.’

  She didn’t wait for his reaction. She just turned, took a deep breath and walked out through the door.

  FOURTEEN

  When they finally reached the peak Brooke was panting. Sweat dripped down her neck and between her shoulder blades. It had to be almost forty degrees. Everything on her was hot and she needed a drink. The girls around her were sighing and breathing heavily too. They were exhausted.

  The last day had come. The last challenge was over. And Brooke was so relieved she almost felt like crying. But she didn’t have time to cry, because in the distance was a table laden with food and drinks, and standing around the table were some men.

  Brooke counted them. Twelve. One for each woman. Who were these men? The girls started to twitter in excitement. Brooke felt an arm loop through hers and her stomach started to swirl as well. What was going on? Weren’t they done?

  After last night’s party Mick had come to see them. He’d said they only had one more challenge left. He’d said the men would then make their choice. The challenge was supposed to be a hike to the top of the Curl Curl peninsula. Mick had said nothing about anyone else being there.

  Brooke couldn’t ask Jack. She wasn’t even sure where Jack was. Typically, Jack hadn’t been in contact. She missed him. She wanted to know how he was and what the hell was going on. But, as usual when it came to Jack, she was left in the dark. And now there was a crowd of people waiting for them.

  What was going on now?

  Brooke was exhausted. Physically and mentally. She was confused and starting to feel angry again. Angry that Jack was leaving her in the dark and frustrated that she was so close to seeing her sisters again but still so far away.

  As they walked closer the girls’ steps started getting faster. Excitement was starting to build. There were about ten cameras facing them as they climbed the last of the slope and came to the table and the strange men.

  ‘Oh, no.’

  Someone stopped.

  ‘You can’t be serious.’

  Brooke looked around. Some of the girls had gone white. They didn’t look happy. Brooke turned back to the table and squinted in the sun. She scanned the faces of the men until finally one of the faces registered. Brooke’s blood rushed cold in her veins. Pinpricks touched her skin in a rush. That face. That wasn’t a strange man. That was the man she’d hoped never to see ever again. Mitch. Standing behind the table. Smiling. At her.

  Brooke wanted to run. She wanted to get the hell out of here and away from that face. But she couldn’t. The cameras were close now, and all but two of the women had stopped. Those two had rushed to the table and embraced two of the men waiting. But the other women didn’t.

  Brooke realised what this was. Everyone’s exes were here. Great TV. What better finale than forcing the women to come face to face with the men who had led them even to come on this ridiculous show? The drama was sure to be top level.

  As she finally reached the table Mitch smiled at her. A smile that had once been so familiar and dear to her. Now it just seemed as if he was mocking her.

  ‘Brooke. You look great!’

  He was talking to her. How dared he talk to her? Around her, things were not going well. Someone was crying. There was shouting at one end of the table. Most of them were stiff and unsure.

  ‘What the hell is going on? Why are you here, Mitch?’

  ‘It’s all about moving on, Brooky. I’m here to release you, so you can move on.’

  Brooke’s ears burned and she gripped the chair in front of her. ‘Excuse me?’

  ‘They thought it would be a good idea if you faced your demons. If you met up with the men you’d loved the most and had the chance to talk.’

  ‘They? Who is they?’

  Mitch’s eyebrows furrowed. ‘The people in charge—I don’t know.’

  Jack. Jack was in charge. Jack had arranged this.

  Brooke didn’t want to believe it. As she listened to the words coming out of Mitch’s mouth she thought maybe it had been Mick’s idea. Or even Jack’s father’s. But it hadn’t. Jack had done this. Jack had sent Mitch back to her. Jack. Who knew what Mitch had done. Who knew how Mitch had made her feel. Why would he do this?


  A woman’s voice boomed out across the table.

  ‘Ladies and gentlemen, it’s time to sit. Today is all about breaking bread with someone from your past who has caused you pain. The aim is to get everything out in the open so you’re able to move on to your own Perfect Match.’

  People started to sit, but Brooke didn’t want to sit. She wanted to leave. But then she saw the cameras. She wasn’t going to make a scene. That was exactly what Jack wanted. That was exactly what Mitch wanted.

  Why would Jack do this? How had she got him so wrong? How had she thought he was different? He wasn’t different. This was all about ratings to him. And it didn’t even matter if the show did end—Jack would always put success above her. She realised that now. This dirty trick had shown her the truth. Jack wasn’t true and sincere. Jack would do anything to get what he wanted. Right now—he wanted a reaction. Well, Jack could go jump.

  Brooke sat down and piled food on to her plate. Her appetite was gone but she was determined to eat and smile and pretend that none of this mattered.

  ‘How have you been, Brooky?’

  Mitch’s voice had a high-pitched twang to it that she never noticed before. It irritated her. She shoved a piece of bread in her mouth and chewed.

  ‘Don’t talk to me, Mitch. Don’t make polite conversation,’ she hissed through the food and through her teeth. ‘Just sit there and shut up.’

  Mitch stopped eating. ‘You know, Brooke, that was always the problem with you. You were always telling me what to do.’

  What? The man had a hide. She’d never told him what to do. Perhaps she should have. He might have treated her better. Brooke remained silent. She didn’t want to fight. She didn’t want any reason for the camera to come her way.

  ‘Still cold, Brooke? Still not letting anyone in?’

  Brooke told herself to breathe. Cold? Her? She’d given Mitch everything. All of her. She’d been there for him when he was down. She’d pumped him up when his ego was low. She spent all her time and all her energy on him and then he’d left. As if she hadn’t mattered. He’d replaced her and moved on.