by Lori Foster
His new awareness sparked her own. Violet knew he was remembering, and she knew he was right. Always, that chemistry would be there, so close to the surface, ready to interrupt.
Her smile wavered, but she didn’t give up. “Plotting and planning like this is just one of the benefits for us working together. Will you please admit that you enjoy it?”
Rough, whisper soft, Hogan said, “I enjoy it.”
Violet shivered. Could a man be any sexier? Nope. She couldn’t quite look at him as she spoke again. “If you insist that sex is another benefit, well, I can handle it if you can.”
For the longest time, Hogan was quiet. “Is that so?”
“You don’t have to worry about me, Hogan. I’m not weak. You said so yourself. I have a lot on my plate, more than enough to worry about without throwing any sort of commitment into the mix. I want to watch the diner grow. I want to make it the very best that it can be. That’s my priority, and I know you can help make it happen.” Baring her soul was an uncomfortable thing. It’d be easier to keep things superficial. “Plus, like anyone else, I like the occasional distraction.”
He frowned, even while smiling. It was an odd expression that made him look dangerous. “So sex with me would be a distraction?”
“At the very least. That is, I assume it would be.” She tilted her head, doing a mock perusal of his very fine physique. “You any good?”
“Like you and your business savvy, what I lack in raw skill I make up for with enthusiasm.”
She couldn’t help but grin. “Yeah? I like the sound of that.”
“It’d be good,” he said, his voice rough again, “and you know it.”
Given the awkwardness of their conversation, he took it well, even added in some humor—and still managed to make her knees tremble. “So...what do you say?”
“Casual sex is a big enticement. But I still need time to think it over. I haven’t been at the accounting firm all that long. It’s a solid job—”
“And this isn’t?”
“Violet,” he said softly, “I’d be a glorified short-order cook and you know it.”
“You cook on those blasted ribs all day.”
Shaking his head, he ignored that. “Give me a week, okay?”
A week without sex, now that he’d teased her with it? How could he claim to want her but then just walk away?
Obviously they weren’t on even playing fields, and that infuriated her, making her mostly mad at herself. She knew his reputation, knew he’d taken up casual sex as a full-time hobby, that sex meant next to nothing to him, and still she’d let herself get hooked.
Stupid.
She was usually a very even-tempered woman. Usually.
Clearly, that wasn’t the case today.
“Tell you what, Hogan. Take two weeks. Take a damned month! I don’t care.” Rigid, her neck stiff, she stalked past him, ready to make her big exit scene.
The second her fingers closed around the doorknob, his hand flattened hard on the door over her head.
The door didn’t budge. “Let go.” She was the boss, and she fully expected him to retreat.
Instead, his body pressed hers, his warm breath touching her ear. “Don’t think this is easy for me, Violet. It’s not.”
Bitterness burned her throat. She wouldn’t have been able to deny him, yet that’s just what he’d done to her. “I’m leaving.”
Neither of them moved.
His lips skimmed her ear. “Not yet, okay?”
Something in the sound of his rough, low voice melted her anger. Her eyes half closed. How did he do this to her? She wasn’t some young, inexperienced virgin. She wasn’t one of those lonely women who had a desperate need for a man in her life.
She wasn’t in love with him.
She wasn’t. She wouldn’t let herself—
“Will you trust me?” His fingertips trailed down her arm, leaving tingles behind.
Violet snorted, but then, her body taut, she whispered, “To do what?”
Nestling a solid erection against her behind, he asked, “How about I just show you?”
Breathing became more difficult, especially when his hands moved from her arms to her waist, around to her ribs and slowly upward.
* * *
Hogan was so turned on, he literally hurt. Not that it mattered, not when all his focus was on Violet. He’d seen her trembling, the flush in her cheeks, and knew she was in as bad shape as he was. He couldn’t bear the thought of walking away from her, leaving her like that.
He’d rather suffer alone than have to live with knowing she suffered, too. Especially when he could do something about it. Not what he wanted to do, but he’d make it be enough.
For her.
Going slow in case she objected—after all, she was equal parts pissed at him and pleased with his interest in the diner—Hogan brought his hands up under her breasts. Beneath his palm, her heart galloped. He smiled against her neck. “You’re wondering what I’m going to do, aren’t you?”
She rested her head back against his shoulder. “Yes.”
He liked the already-breathy, strained sound of her voice. “How about we start with this?” He cupped her breasts, and even through her T-shirt and bra, she felt so damn nice, firm and soft, full and warm.
She inhaled deeply. “As long as it’s only a starting point.”
He liked the way her voice shook. Opening his mouth on her neck, he gently sucked, teased with his tongue...and caressed her breasts.
“Hogan...”
Knowing what she wanted, but also knowing it wasn’t easy to give a woman a climax while standing in a small office, both of them fully dressed, he decided a lot of buildup would be best. More torture for him, but with hopefully a nice payoff.
He said, “Hmm?” and moved his erection against her.
Her breath hitched.
Inhaling her scent, loving the taste of her skin, he kissed a slow, damp path from her neck to her shoulder. “You smell so sweet, Violet.”
“I’ve been working all day.”
True, she was warm and earthy and musky sweet—more arousing than any perfume could be. “That’s why you smell like you, instead of scented soap.” With a low growl, he lightly grazed his teeth over the tripping pulse in her throat. “It’s a turn-on.”
She flattened her hands against the front of his thighs and arched her back a little so that her breasts more firmly filled his hands.
Ever so slowly, he grazed his thumbs over her puckered nipples and felt her immediate reaction. Damn, he wanted to taste her. After toying with her until they were both nuts, he slipped one hand under her T-shirt to stroke the warm, silky skin of her midriff. Reaching up, he dipped his right hand into her left bra cup, and that, skin on skin, her nipple tight against his palm, had them both groaning.
“A front closure,” he murmured, feeling the clasp of her bra. “Did you plan that for me?”
“Yes.”
Surprised, he looked down at her. With her head resting back against him, her breasts pushed forward, he wished like hell she were naked. She kept her eyes closed, her lips slightly parted as she breathed fast.
Hogan tugged the T-shirt up to her chin and flicked open the bra. The cups parted over her swollen breasts. Her nipples were flushed a dark pink. He filled his hands with her, caressing, enjoying her. The shorts were low on her hips and he could see her from her breasts to her hip bones. She had a beautiful body.
Tugging gently at her nipples, he teased her. “You like that, don’t you?” Not waiting for an answer, he said, “I don’t want to let go of you.”
She made a small, desperate sound of need. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Open your shorts for me, Violet.”
She went still, then bit her b
ottom lip.
“Violet,” he repeated, “open your shorts. It’ll make it easier for me to get my fingers in there. I want to do this—” he carefully worked one nipple, rolling gently, tugging lightly “—to you in other places.”
The moan turned into a broken groan. Her nails bit into his thighs.
Hogan didn’t let up. He teased and toyed with her until finally, tentatively, her hands went to the snap of her jean shorts.
“Good,” he whispered. “Now unzip them, too.”
She did, her hands shaking.
It was a heady thing, having bossy, independent Violet Shaw follow his carnal orders. “Push them down a little for me, then open your legs.”
“God,” she breathed, but did as he told her.
“I love your matching underwear.” Tonight she wore pale green with little pink flowers. It was both cute and excruciatingly sexy. “Will you be wet for me, Violet?”
She swallowed, then whispered, “Yes.”
Hogan had to lock his knees. He should have known she wouldn’t be reserved. Not Violet. “I only have two hands.” He took her left hand and brought it up to her right breast, then gave her a kiss on her cheek. He still held her other breast, and now his right hand was free to help her along.
At first, he just traced the tiny crotch of her barely there panties with a forefinger. He could feel the heat of her, the building moisture. Seeing her hand, completely still but against her breast, made him burn. The feel of her soft flesh, her tight nipple and now this...
When he pressed his fingers against her, she gave a sharp cry. Looking at her through heated eyes, Hogan realized she was already so close.
Jason gave this up.
No. Hell no. He wouldn’t think about that.
Instead, he put his hand into her panties, all while teasing one nipple and kissing her throat and pushing his cock against her backside.
The second he touched her, he felt the wet heat, the slick excitement, and it almost pushed him over the edge.
Knowing he had to end this before he lost control, Hogan stroked over her, opening her, then worked one finger into her.
Violet opened her legs wider, moving sensuously against his hand. It was so damned erotic, so natural, he got lost in her responses, the heat of her and the scent of her arousal.
“Damn, you feel good.” He worked in another finger and she groaned, twisting against him. In and out, deeper each time, he stroked her, occasionally pressing the heel of his hand against her.
“Hogan...” she whispered, her voice broken. “No...no more teasing.”
She was on the very edge and he loved it. Without meaning to, he thought briefly of Meg, how warm and caring she’d been during sex, but she’d never burned this hot. And the women who had come after her—some of them incredibly bold, some reserved, and the sex had been terrific.
Or so he’d thought.
But this was different. Like a personal fantasy come to life. Violet made him feel things he hadn’t before connected to sex, odd things, powerful things.
His fingers inside her were wet from her excitement, her inner muscles squeezing him tight. He pressed higher, heard her long ragged groan and smiled.
“All right.” With a deliberate lack of haste, he brought his fingers up to her clitoris and lightly teased over it. Her body jerked and she gave him another deep groan. Against her smooth jaw, he murmured, “Tell me what you like.”
“You,” she gasped. “I like you.”
Almost in pain, Hogan smiled. “I like you, too, Violet. I especially like the way you let go.” She wasn’t shy or overly modest. God knew, as a natural beauty with a slim but shapely figure, she had no reason to be. Maybe it was her naturalness that affected him.
Gauging her every reaction, he found a rhythm that made her cry out, and as he felt her tightening, he tightened, too. She wanted to come, needed it badly; he sensed her straining toward release. When it didn’t happen, her frustration grew.
“Shh,” he told her. “Take it easy.”
Pulling his hand away, Hogan turned her to the wall and kissed her hard. She looked dazed, confused, even desperate—until he went to his knees.
Her panties were around her thighs, her shorts dropped down to her ankles, her T-shirt rolled up under her arms and her bra cups open.
Looking at her gave him a lot of pleasure. “You are the hottest fucking thing I’ve ever seen.”
She stared down at him, her breath ragged.
After kissing her smooth belly, the top of each slim thigh, he cupped her ass in his hands and drew her forward to his mouth.
“Hogan...”
“Shush.” At the first stroke of his tongue, her fingers tunneled into his hair, holding tight enough to sting. But her small cries, the scent of her, made everything inconsequential except for her release.
Hogan licked over her, in her, tasted her, nuzzled against her, teasing more until her desperation grew—then he drew her in for a soft, devastating suck.
Less than a minute later, she stiffened, her thighs shaking, her hips riding with the rhythm of his tongue, every breath a sharpening gasp. As she came, she groaned long and deep.
Hogan groaned with her.
Slowly, very slowly, her pleasure subsided and she sank back against the wall, using his shoulders to hold herself up.
A little devastated, Hogan looked up the length of her small, mostly bare body. How she got more beautiful every damn day, he didn’t know. Feeling ridiculously proud—and remarkably tender—he eased her panties back up, then her shorts.
Cheeks damp, her eyes closed, she continued to struggle for breath.
Standing, he smoothed back her hair, smiled and lightly kissed her parted lips. “Damn, Violet, that was nice.”
She didn’t open her eyes but she did hum some vague reply.
It wasn’t until he fastened her bra and tucked away her breasts that she cracked open one eye. “Hogan?”
“Hmm.” He straightened her T-shirt.
“What the hell are you doing?”
Lassitude kept her voice light, husky. He fought off a triumphant smile. “Don’t get mad or offended, but I need a couple of weeks to think about your job offer.”
“Weeks?” she repeated.
She seemed to be struggling, Hogan thought, and he wanted to hug her. “We can start working on all the things we discussed, but I need time to think about making any switch.” Employed full-time at a restaurant? He didn’t even know if he could make that work financially.
“So,” she said, visibly sorting her thoughts, “you did this to me, but you’re taking that—” she pointed at the very visible erection in his jeans “—home alone?” Her gaze searched his. “It will be alone, right?”
“The only woman I want right now is you, so yes, definitely alone.” When he pulled her to him, she put her arms around him and rested against him, limp. Hogan smiled now that she couldn’t see him. Damn, he felt good.
“That hardly seems fair,” she murmured.
He shrugged. “I’ll take care of me when I get home.”
Leaning back, she gaped at him. “You’ll take care of...?”
“Don’t act surprised, Violet. We’re both single. We’ve both—”
Eyes wide and her cheeks now red, she smashed a hand over his mouth.
His smile broke into a grin. “At least one of us will sleep soundly tonight.”
She tucked her face against him, hiding.
Pleased with her, Hogan brushed his mouth over her temple. “You’re okay?”
“Mmm. If I wasn’t so completely sated, if my body wasn’t still throbbing in a very nice way, I’d probably want to smack you. But after that, after what you did, I suppose I should try to be understanding.” She tipped her face up to see him. “You’
re waiting for me, right? Because you want me to have all my options?”
Glad that she’d figured it out on her own, that she hadn’t jumped to condemning conclusions, he touched her cheek. “You should know the...circumstances of our relationship, personal and in business, before you make any decisions.”
“You’re a pretty good guy, Hogan Guthrie, you know that?”
He hoped that was true. He wanted it to be true.
Now if one very sexy little redhead would stop defining temptation, he just might make it so.
7
KNOWING BROOKLIN HAD altered her routine just to throw him off, Nathan settled back and waited. She obviously didn’t know his routine well at all because on Fridays, he didn’t have to be into the station as early. He had two more hours, and knowing Brooklin as he did now, he couldn’t see her waiting until the afternoon to get in her run. She’d wait only until she assumed he’d left for work.
Then she’d come out.
The woman did like her exercise. Maybe she found it cathartic. Maybe she was prone to gaining weight, unlikely as that seemed. He didn’t know her reasoning, only that she ran nearly every day, rain or shine.
He stayed back on his porch, out of her view if she took a quick look, and drank his coffee. From his days in SWAT, he’d learned patience. He could wait her out, no problem.
Finally, fifteen minutes later, his attuned ears heard the closing of her front door. He pictured her in his mind, her toned body, that thick, honey-colored hair, and his anticipation built.
When she reached the bottom of her walkway she glanced up—and their gazes held.
Nathan set aside his cup, stood so she’d see his running shorts and shoes and smiled.
Her attention went over his bare chest, then over the rest of him.
In the next second she slipped on those ridiculous large sunglasses and, her mouth set, started by.
He trotted down to join her. “Good morning, Brooklin.”
Through stiff lips, she snapped, “Morning” and kept going.
Keeping pace beside her, he asked, “Sleep in, today?”
