Tease Me (The Temptation Duet Book 2)

by Roxy Sloane

  He trails a hand down my body, lingering between my thighs. And even though I know I should push him away, my body responds like it has a mind of its own.

  I arch towards his touch. Needing him.

  Why does his filthy mouth turn me on like this?

  It’s wicked. It’s wrong.

  And damn, I can’t get enough.

  Jase smirks, pressing lightly against the seam of my jeans. I bite back a moan.

  “That’s right, darlin’.” He circles stronger. “You’ve been too long without me. All alone out here. I bet those pretty fingers have been working overtime at night, just imagining my cock in their place.”

  I flush. He’s right again. Every night I’ve gone to sleep to wild, sexy dreams of us together. And every morning I’ve woken up touching myself, desperately searching for a release only he can give.

  Jase watches me, his eyes dark. His hand moves back up to trace the outline of my lips. “So sweet,” he murmurs. “So wet. Remember the last time you sucked my cock, Chloe? On your knees, begging for just another taste. Well, you can have it. Right now, baby. All you have to do is invite me inside.”

  I pause, torn. He’s here now, right in front of me, looking so sexy and demanding, it makes my legs go weak and my body clench with lust. God, I want him so much, it’s almost enough to chase away my betrayal and pain.

  Almost.

  “No.”

  With super-human strength, I put both hands on his chest and shove him away.

  Jase reels back, surprised.

  “I don’t want you,” I lie, stronger. This time, thank God, my voice doesn’t waver. “Whatever we had, it’s over. It was over the minute I found out who you really are. Whatever you and Max were plotting, I don’t care anymore. I can’t believe a single word you say.”

  I sidestep around him and unlock the door. “Goodbye, Jase,” I tell him, stepping inside. I catch a glimpse of shock and hurt on his face, but there’s no going back now.

  I slam the door in his face.

  “We’re done.”

  3.

  CHLOE

  I wish I could hide away at the beach forever, but by the end of the week, my phone is full of messages from work and Amanda. I can’t delay my life any more, so I pack up and drive back to Boston and the real world that’s waiting there for me.

  “You look refreshed. Fun lover’s getaway?” my boss, Marcie greets me at the real estate office when I slink in. I was expecting a major tantrum over all the days I’ve missed, but instead, she’s smiling at me.

  “Umm, not really.” I look around. Is this a trap?

  “Well, we’ve been busy here without you. Ever since you sold that penthouse in record time, we’ve been getting a ton of calls. Here, these are your listings.”

  She dumps a stack of files on my desk, and I blink. “Mine, really?”

  “You’re on a winning streak. Must be wedding luck.” She winks.

  My heart drops. “Actually, about that. Max and I—”

  “Let me know if you need my help, but I think you’re ready to go solo,” Marcie talks over me. “Who knows, keep this up, and there’ll be a promotion waiting for you soon!”

  She waltzes away. Oops. I know I need to start telling people my engagement with Max is over, but now I wonder if maybe I can wait a little while. After years of ignoring me and sending me out to fetch her coffee, Marcie is actually being . . . nice?

  Sure, she’s only doing it because she wants to land all of Max’s fancy society friends as clients, but is it really so wrong to let her believe it for a little longer? I don’t want to ruin a good thing, and the last thing I need right now is a lecture about looking a gift horse in the mouth.

  I’m settling in to review the files when my phone buzzes, and I check the ID. Jase. Again. I feel a tight pain in my chest. He’s been calling ever since I slammed the door in his face, but I refuse to even listen to his messages. There’s nothing left to say to him, and definitely no way he can apologize for what he did.

  Hallmark doesn’t make cards that say, “Sorry I seduced you for a hundred thousand dollars.”

  I shove my phone deeper in my purse and focus on work instead for the rest of the day. I call clients, set up viewings, and even coordinate a couple of new open houses for the next week. By the time 5:00 p.m. rolls around, I’ve barely had a chance to think about Jase and all those voicemails waiting on my phone.

  Except every other minute.

  “Is it OK if I head out now?” I ask Marcie, bracing myself for more demands. She usually loves giving me a ton of work to do last-minute on a Friday. Last time I tried to sneak out at a decent hour, she decided she wanted the entire filing system reorganized. But this time, she just gives me a wave.

  “Go ahead! Enjoy the weekend.”

  I don’t wait around for her to change her mind. I practically sprint out the door, towards freedom. Then I go pick up a bouquet of flowers and some of the best éclairs in the city and go swing by the ballet studio.

  “Thank you,” I greet Kay with a hug. She’s just finished teaching a class and is wearing her signature black leotard and wraparound cardigan. I hope I’m half as elegant when I’m her age. “It was so great of you to let me stay at the beach. Here, these are for you.”

  “Beautiful!” Kay exclaims, taking the flowers from me. “But how are you?” She fixes me with that familiar sharp stare, and I sigh.

  “Not so good.”

  “I’ll put the kettle on,” she says sympathetically, and leads me upstairs to the tiny apartment she has above the studio. I settle at the table and stare mournfully at the pastries.

  “I wish I could just flip a switch and stop thinking about Jase,” I say sadly. “Or better still, stop feeling anything for him.”

  “Unfortunately, love doesn’t work that way.”

  I shake my head. “I’m not in love,” I insist. “This is . . . something else. Lust. Just stupid hormones getting the better of me, that’s all.”

  Kay arches an eyebrow. “Don’t dismiss hormones,” she says. “That’s the body’s way of telling us we’re compatible, after all. What other reason do we have for finding a mate?”

  “Love, trust, companionship . . .” I say.

  She laughs. “All well and good. But there’s no denying chemistry, either.”

  “But what happens when the chemistry is amazing, but everything else is all wrong?” I ask, feeling hopeless. “You can’t tell me to ignore everything he’s done just because he gets me hot under the collar.”

  And other places, too.

  Kay joins me at the table with our tea. “I’m not saying that at all, sweetheart.” She pats my hand. “But passion, true passion, doesn’t come around often. Sometimes, it’s worth asking yourself if that passion could be the basis for something more.”

  My phone buzzes again, and Kay gives me a knowing look. “After all, he seems very persistent.”

  “He likes the chase, that’s all.”

  “Perhaps.” She smiles. “But I like to think he’s realized what he’s missing.”

  I snort with laughter. “Jase Banner doesn’t need to miss me. I bet he’s got another hundred women lined up around the block to fill his bed.”

  “But they aren’t you,” Kay says affectionately. “Don’t put yourself down, child. You deserve someone who knows just how special you are.”

  “I’d settle for someone who doesn’t lie and betray me and sell me out to the highest bidder,” I say, feeling a stab of bitterness. “Whatever Jase wants, it doesn’t concern me now. I just need to forget about him and move on. No more men.” I lift my teacup in a toast.

  Kay laughs. “Speak for yourself. I’m in my prime, here. I’m certainly not drinking to that!”

  *

  I stay with Kay for another hour, talking in the warmth of her little attic hideaway. Then I take the subway back across the city, lost in thought.

  Kay’s right—the chemistry with Jase is overwhelming. But is that something I should
be listening to, or a warning sign to ignore? If I’m honest, it scares me a little how much I want him, and how incredible it felt to surrender to his total control. That sexual thrill is dangerous, but so intoxicating, I feel like some kind of junkie in withdrawal, pining for just one more fix no matter what the cost.

  He’s the dangerous one, I remind myself. You’re doing the right thing by staying away.

  I swallow back my doubts and unlock the front door at home. A delicious smell wafts out, something with lemon and mint, and . . . “Is that lavender?” I ask, stepping inside.

  “Yes!” Amanda is in the kitchen, with a dozen ingredients out and four pans bubbling on the stove. She’s working to build her own skincare empire, but for now, the empire is based out of our apartment. Still, I’m not complaining: I get to play guinea pig and try out all her amazing samples. “I’m thinking Tuscany or the South of France.”

  “Have you ever been?” I ask, unloading my jacket and bag.

  She shakes her head. “Please, I’ve never even been to Paris, Texas. But one day.” She brightens. “Here, smell. I want it to feel like you’ve just stepped into a field of lavender.”

  I sniff. “That’s amazing,” I tell her, and she beams.

  “I know. I’m brilliant.”

  I laugh. “And so modest, too.”

  “Please.” Amanda rolls her eyes. “If I was a guy, you’d just say I was confident.”

  “If you were a guy, I’d wonder why you keep borrowing my ultra-sensitive razor blades.”

  “Oops! Sorry.” She flashes an apologetic grin. “I’ll pick you up some more from the drugstore later.”

  “It’s OK. Give me a couple of those bars of soap, and I’ll call it a trade.”

  “Done!” She turns off the burners and stirs. I watch her pour the liquid soap into a tray of special molds. Then she scatters dried lavender leaves on the top of each one, leaving a pretty coating.

  “You really are an artist,” I say, admiring her work.

  “Thanks!” She peels off her rubber gloves, then carefully slides the trays into the refrigerator. “All done.” She checks the shelves. “Crap, I forgot to buy groceries. What do you want to do for dinner?”

  “I don’t mind. I’m not really hungry.”

  Amanda gives me a look. “Don’t give me that. You’ve dropped like five pounds in breakup weight. There’ll be nothing left of you soon. Come on, we’re going out for burgers and beers.”

  I shake my head. “Not tonight. I’m tired.”

  “You’re moping,” Amanda corrects me. “You need fried food, alcohol, and rebound sex ASAP.”

  She tries to drag me off my stool, but I hang onto the counter. “I don’t feel like going out. Really.”

  “Sorry, babe, but this is an executive decision,” Amanda says firmly. “Besides, think about it: a juicy burger . . . thick-cut fries . . .”

  My mouth starts to water. I’ve been living off chips and dip for the past week, and I have to admit, it sounds good. Besides, what else am I going to do tonight: sit around here, watching TV and trying not to think about Jase?

  “Onion rings, too?” I ask.

  She laughs. “For you, babe, anything.”

  “OK,” I agree, climbing down. “Let me go get changed. Then you’ve got yourself a date!”

  4.

  JASE

  I’ve screwed hundreds of women in my time and never given a damn about them come morning. Sure, I give them the ride of their lives, but that’s all: I get in, get off, and get the hell out before they have a chance to realize the best lay of their life is walking out that door.

  But now there’s one name stuck in my head, and I’m the desperate pussy who can’t move on.

  Chloe.

  She’s an itch that needs scratching. A body my cock can’t forget. And ever since she slammed the door in my face at the beach and turned me down flat, I’ve been going out of my mind with frustration.

  Because this time, I’m the one who screwed the whole thing up.

  I feel like the biggest asshole in the world remembering how she looked at me: hurt and betrayed. I don’t blame her. As much as I like to think I’m the last honest guy in town, I’ve been hiding the truth from her since the moment we met.

  Sure, she was just a job to start, but now she’s something more.

  An obsession.

  An addiction.

  I’m jonesing for another taste of that sweet pussy, and nothing else in the world can even come close.

  I check my phone again, but there’s nothing. No replies to my voicemails, no sign she even gives a damn.

  Fuck, is this what it feels like on the other side of the bedroom door? Now I understand all those weeping phone calls and girls showing up on my front steps, begging for another chance.

  Once you taste perfection, there’s no going back. But this time I’m the one pacing the floor at night, wound so tight that even a cold shower and a hard wank won’t do the job right. And never mind the long list of names in my little black book. I’ve called half a dozen of them—and hung up the phone, every time.

  I don’t want anyone else. I just want her.

  “. . . can you help? Mr. Banner?”

  I look up. There’s a client sat across from me, some poor woman who suspects her husband is running around. Bread and butter for my detective agency. Usually, I’ll take her details and bill her for a week’s surveillance, but today, I’m so on edge I couldn’t give a damn.

  “What do you think?” she asks, looking hopeful. “I’m sure it’s just a big mistake. Maybe he’s planning a surprise for me, and that’s why he’s been acting so strange. Our twentieth anniversary is in a couple of months.”

  “He’s cheating,” I say bluntly.

  Her face slips. “But you haven’t even started investigating yet.”

  “I don’t need to. He’s staying late at work, charging expensive dinners, and hasn’t touched you in months. I’d bet you a hundred bucks he’s banging his secretary.”

  She blinks at me, then starts to cry. I sigh and pass the box of tissues waiting on my desk. “Look, if you want to take him to the cleaners in the divorce, I’m happy to take some pictures. But if you came here hoping for a happy ending to your story, you won’t find it here.”

  “I can’t believe it,” she sobs. “We said until death do us . . . part!”

  “People lie.” I feel a stab of guilt. “Everyone does it. Either you accept that fact and try to live with it, or you move on. It’s up to you.”

  I pack her out the door, still weeping. It’s a tough break, but she’ll be better off in the long run not believing in some guy’s empty promises.

  Especially mine.

  I think of Chloe again. My whole career, I prided myself on being a straight-shooter, not playing games or lying like every other person who walks in this door. But it turns out I found the one honest woman in the world—and I turned around and lied through my teeth. Sure, I never came out and said anything false, but she had my number when she yelled at me before: I misled her and hid the facts, and that’s all the same thing in the end. This time, I’m the cheating asshole.

  Fuck.

  I slam my hand on the desk in frustration just as somebody else walks in the door.

  “Easy there, cowboy.” My mate, Logan, smirks. “What did that desk ever do to you?”

  “I’m not in the mood for your jokes,” I warn him. “Anyway, haven’t you got innocent people to go harass?”

  “Very funny.” Logan’s a cop, one of the good ones, too. It turns out he’s smarter than his pretty-boy face lets on, so we help each other out on cases sometimes. “I guess from this foul mood, that background on your girl Chloe didn’t lead you anywhere good?”

  I flinch at her name, and Logan chuckles. “So it’s like that, then?”

  “It’s not like anything.” I scowl. “I told you, that case is closed. I didn’t need your research. I haven’t even looked at it.”

  “What?” Logan frowns. “T
he great Jase Banner leaving secrets on the table? Say it isn’t so.”

  “She’s not a case any more. She deserves her privacy.”

  After snooping around after her and ingratiating myself into her life, it’s the least I can do to leave her past alone. Chloe’s been hiding something for years, and even though I usually jump at the chance to go digging in someone’s dirty laundry, something about this one held me back.

  It’s not that I don’t want to know everything about her. But I want Chloe to be the one to tell me—to open up and share everything. Her past, her fears.

  And not forgetting that sweet body, too.

  Logan shakes his head and whistles. “Never thought I’d live to see the day, buddy. But you’ve got it bad.”

  I start to argue, then I stop. What’s the point in denying the truth?

  “She won’t talk to me,” I admit. “I drove halfway to the fucking state line, and she slammed the door in my face.”

  Logan hoots with laughter. “I like her already.”

  “Nobody turns me down!” I exclaim, frustrated. “And not once they know what they’re missing.”

  “Aww, is Jase’s ego taking a bruising?” Logan smirks. “You ever think that maybe you’re not God’s gift to all womankind?”

  “Never.” I glare back.

  He laughs. “Come on. I know one way to get over a woman, and that’s to get inside another one.”

  I sigh. “Tried that. Doesn’t work.”

  “Try harder.” Logan nods his head to the door. “Two-for-one ladies’ night at that tiki place around the corner.”

  “Tiki?” I repeat in disgust.

  “Hey, don’t knock it until you’ve seen what those hula girls do with their hips.” Logan is irritatingly cheerful. “I bet you two beers you’ll be knee-deep in pussy before the end of the night.”

  *

  We walk over to the bar, and I try to shake my black mood. Logan’s right, there’s plenty of distraction here if I want it. A blonde by the bar with a mouth made for sucking. That cute redhead already making eyes at me like she’s imagining her legs spread. Two hot girls in the corner knocking back margaritas like they’re water—