I Brake For Bad Boys

by Foster, Lori

  “Yes ma’am.” He kissed the end of her nose. “But I am just a man, so if I forget or lose my temper, you won’t quail, will you?”

  She snorted, but asked with a scowl, “Just how violent do you get when you lose your temper?”

  “I get loud, not violent. And that’s enough to send most women running.”

  The very idea set her off. “I don’t run from anyone!”

  “And I don’t hurt women. Ever. I’d sooner break my own arm. I swear it.”

  She nodded. “I believe you. But don’t think you can get away with yelling at me either.”

  The things she said made his heart full to bursting. Gently, he said, “If I did, I wouldn’t mean anything by it. Besides, you’d just yell louder.”

  “And longer.”

  He laughed. “When I have you under me, small and vulnerable, you’ll love it. You’ll take what I give you and want more and you won’t ever feel overpowered.”

  Her lips quivered and a pulse raced in her throat, but she thrust up her chin. “I’ll demand my turn on top.”

  “Yeah.” His voice went low and hoarse. “That’s what I figured.” She started to lean up to kiss him, and Ian said, “The bath is probably ready to overflow.”

  He hustled her out of the room and down the hall. The tub was full, but he caught it in time. Kneeling, he shut off the water, set a thick towel on the ceramic floor just outside the tub, and turned—in time to see Erica unbuttoning her shirt.

  Apparently, their exchange had emboldened her. Ian dropped back onto his ass with a thump and watched, spellbound. She smiled as she slipped each button free, knowing she drove him crazy and enjoying it.

  “I told you that I take my shoes off when I get home, but know what else I like to take off?”

  “Your clothes?” Damn, he sounded hopeful.

  “Sometimes. But my shoes and my bra are always the first to go. Both are so constrictive. You won’t mind if I spend the weekend barefoot and braless, will you?”

  He shook his head, rendered mute by the sight of pale flesh visible through the gaping shirt. Any second now he’d see her breasts. Be strong, he told himself. Do not start groveling. Or drooling. Drooling would be bad, too.

  And here he’d thought this would be the easy part.

  She shrugged the shirt off her shoulders and tossed it at his face. “Fold that for me.”

  “Right.” He dropped it to his lap, unwilling to look away for even a second.

  She reached behind herself and dragged down the zipper on her skirt. “Ian?”

  “Mmm?”

  “I need you to help me. Tug this down my hips, okay, so I can step out of it.”

  Oh, good Lord. He moved forward on his knees and reached for the skirt. But that close to her, his hands automatically went to bare flesh. He shaped her waist, loving the fine texture of her skin in contrast to his rough palms. Her belly was gently rounded, smooth and pale, and her navel made only the slightest indent. He had to kiss it.

  “Ian? The skirt.”

  He cleared his throat and gathered what meager control he had left. He just hadn’t counted on the effect of her nudity. He felt like a ravening beast, hungry, in heat, ready to conquer. He wanted her under him—now.

  The skirt was tight and had to be worked down. Her panties almost came with it, tripping his heart and freezing his breath in his lungs, but at the last second she caught the waistband and kept them on her hips.

  Her bra matched her panties, and the shiny peach shade did interesting things to her rich black hair and ivory skin. It also did interesting things to his dick, making him swell to a full, demanding erection.

  Through the thin material of her underclothes, he could see the darker circles of her nipples and a neat triangle of pubic hair between her legs. Still on his knees—a position now somewhat familiar with Erica—he reached up for the front clasp of her bra, then waited.

  “Go ahead,” she whispered.

  Ian had been in his teens when he’d mastered getting a female’s clothes off her. He sure as hell didn’t fumble now. The bra clasp opened and he drew the material apart. She lowered her arms and the straps slid down, then off so that the bra landed on the floor.

  Her nipples, not pink but a deep mauve, were tightly puckered, making him groan. She didn’t have large breasts but they were soft and round and this was Erica. He’d wanted her for so long, he almost couldn’t remember ever not wanting her.

  Erica curved her hand around his neck. “I want you to kiss me.”

  His gaze snapped to hers but he didn’t need more encouragement than that. Oh, he knew what she intended: to make him hot, then make him stop.

  She wanted some payback.

  But hell, he was already hot, and stopping wouldn’t be easy for her, either. Eventually she wouldn’t want to stop. He knew he was right about that.

  He lifted himself a little higher until his face was level with her torso. Wrapping his arms around her he tugged her close, tilted his head, and drew her left nipple deep into the wet warmth of his mouth. He sucked, not hard, but he wasn’t the least bit timid about it either. His nose pressed into her plump breast and she smelled so good he was already breathing hard.

  Her body arched and her hands knotted in his hair. Ian tugged, using his tongue to tease, to flick and lick. Then he sucked some more until they were both shaking.

  “That’s enough,” she whispered, but without much insistence.

  “Not yet.” He moved to the other breast. “Gotta be fair.”

  “To you?” she asked on a sigh.

  “To these.” And he kissed her right breast with the same enthusiasm. Within moments, Erica moved against him, her belly nudging his chest, her legs shifting with the need to get nearer. He stroked her shoulders, down to the small of her back, and finally over her firm cheeks, kneading and plying the resilient flesh, helping to grind her against his body.

  When she was all but lost, he hooked his thumbs in her panties and pulled them down her legs. Leaning back, he looked at her. Her green eyes were smoky with desire, her nipples wet from his mouth, her whole body quivering. With one finger, he stroked the silky black curls on her mound, up, down, pressing in just the tiniest bit until he felt her small, taut clitoris. She groaned.

  Jesus, she was the most appealing woman he’d ever seen.

  And she was his.

  He stood and scooped her into his arms; at the same time, Erica hugged him, pressing her face into his throat. “Where are we going?” Her voice was deep, affected by sexual need.

  Regret stung him, but he didn’t head for the bedroom. Not yet, he told himself, not just yet. “You’re going into the tub and I’m heading to the kitchen.” His voice was unusually gruff.

  She jerked her head back. “What?”

  Lowering her into the now tepid water, he said, “Relax. Soak. When I’m done with the dishes I’ll help you wash then dry you off and give you a massage.”

  The water level was high, all but covering her except for her breasts and rosy nipples. He turned away, ignoring her slack-jawed surprise while struggling to contain himself. He would have liked to whistle, but his mouth wasn’t working right at the moment and no way could he pucker.

  Just as he reached the hall, he heard a furious splash, followed by a soft moan of dismay. He had her right where he wanted her.

  Unfortunately, she had him in the same position.

  Only she didn’t know it, and he did.

  Erica scrubbed herself with a vengeance. Let him help? Ha. She’d let him rot, that’s what she’d do. He’d had his chance and he’d walked away. She’d been willing, damn it. Willing and needing and . . .

  The problem, at least to her mind, was that when he got near, she couldn’t seem to remember that she was the boss. She just went all soft and female. She hated going soft and female.

  It made a woman weak and left her open to misuse.

  She didn’t have enough fingers and toes to count the men who had used and discarded her mot
her. Her mother would give a man everything—her heart, her home, often even her paycheck. And eventually he’d leave her, devastated and financially broke. They’d had to struggle so many times because of the scoundrels that her mother had grown fond of.

  Erica prided herself on being different. Unable to accept her mother’s lifestyle, she’d gained her independence early on and she protected that above all else. She said and did exactly as she pleased and never would she let a man dictate to her.

  Yet Ian had only to touch her and she lost herself.

  She needed to rethink this whole thing. Really, what was it she wanted? She lifted one finger: Ian naked. That would be very sweet on the eyes, not to mention how much her hands—and her mouth—would love it.

  She lifted another finger: Ian making love to her. Yes, that would be heavenly.

  A third finger went up: Ian at her mercy.

  As if a lightbulb went on, Erica suddenly realized she could have all that with only one simple ground rule. Before he touched her again, she’d spell it out to him, then it’d be on him to maintain control, rather than on her.

  Now why hadn’t she thought of that sooner?

  She sat up in the tub and sluiced off the clinging bubbles. She wasn’t going to get any cleaner and no way could she relax. She’d just stepped out of the tub when Ian came back in.

  He stopped in the doorway, his blue eyes nearly incandescent as they tracked every inch of her body. Subtly, the muscles in his chest and shoulders grew tight until the strength in his upper body was clearly defined. His hands curled into fists.

  “Damn, you look good.”

  The bottom dropped out of her stomach at the way he said that and how he looked at her. She lifted a hand. “Don’t come any closer.”

  His back straightened. “What?”

  “I mean it, Ian. We have to talk first.”

  He looked troubled, and aroused. “Let me help you dry off, then we’ll talk.”

  “No! I’m the boss, right? Well I say we talk first.” Gaining a little momentum on her attitude, Erica crossed her arms beneath her breasts and waited.

  Slumping back against the door frame, Ian cupped one big hand over his crotch and winced. “I’ll wait, but I don’t know if John Henry will. Jesus, Erica, I’m about to explode here.”

  Caught between a laugh of triumph and overwhelming excitement, Erica looked at the straining erection beneath his jeans. Yep, he was plenty in proportion. She gulped. “You walked away from me.”

  “No easy feat, I don’t mind telling you. But you’re the one who set up the rules—that I’d wait on you. I’m trying to do that.”

  She wouldn’t let him fool her again. “I want you to make love to me.”

  He jerked straight. “Yes.”

  “What do you mean, yes?”

  “I mean, yes. Hell, yes. I’m more than willing.”

  This time she did laugh. “But I have some stipulations.”

  His biceps bulged. “Name them.”

  Oh, Erica could easily see why women got nervous around Ian Conrad. In his hunger, he looked savage and hard and ready to conquer. Only he’d never conquer her. “It has to be just sex.”

  His eyes narrowed, intense and bright. “Come again?”

  Well, damn, now he was starting to make her nervous. “I don’t want you muddying the waters with too much talk, unless it’s sex talk. And no more playing games.”

  “Games?”

  She sighed. Well, she could admit a little, and then he’d have to do the same. “We’ve both been doing it and you know it. This business of one-upmanship has to stop. We’ll both be naked, and if you have any skill at all, we’ll both enjoy ourselves. Period.”

  For three seconds he looked ready to erupt. His jaw was locked tight, his body tensed as if for attack, and anger practically vibrated off him. Then he let loose with a string of stinging curses that made Erica’s heart leap in shock. “Ian!”

  He turned away, paced two steps and came back. “No.”

  That drew her up. “What do you mean, no?”

  “I mean no.” He stared at her hard. “I want more than just sex.”

  Her jaw worked several times before she could get the word out. “More?”

  He advanced and she—damn it—backed up. Her naked fanny smacked into the ceramic tile wall and in the next heartbeat Ian pressed into her front. “I want everything from you, Erica Lee. Everything you have to give.”

  Because she didn’t understand him, she went on the defensive. “You want to control me.”

  “I want your trust.” He pressed a finger to her mouth, halting her denial. “Before you say it, they are not the same thing. I know you keep men at a distance for a reason. I suppose some of what you told me about your mother is to blame for that.”

  She tried to speak, but he leaned down and briefly kissed her, silencing her with the warm press of his mouth, the gentle sweep of his tongue. “I want your body, your humor, your cocky sarcasm. I want you, Erica. Right now, but tomorrow too.”

  Her mouth touching his, she asked, “And the day after that?”

  “Always.”

  She jerked back so fast her head cracked on the wall, making her wince. “Damn it.”

  With a huff of annoyance, Ian’s hand opened over the back of her head and rubbed. “Don’t be nervous with me.”

  “You do not make me nervous.”

  “Not physically, no. You want me too, I can tell that much.” He settled his hips into the notch of her legs. “But you’re nervous because you’re not sure if I’m for real. You’re afraid you’ll start to like me, to trust me, and I’ll walk away.”

  “Your ego is massive.”

  “Erica.” He pressed his forehead to hers. “Can’t you let go just a little?”

  She wanted to so badly that it scared her. Then a thought occurred to her and she glared. “What about this woman at work who you want to marry and carry off to the woods?”

  By small degrees, he gathered her tightly to him. Erica couldn’t draw a breath without feeling some part of Ian, without inhaling his scent. She couldn’t move a millimeter without her lips touching his, her body rubbing into him. Once he had her locked close, he whispered, “That’s you.”

  “Me?” She barely squeaked the word out.

  He nodded, bumping his nose into hers.

  “But I thought . . .”

  “Shhh. Drop your defenses just until tomorrow morning, and then we’ll talk about it again. I promise. I’ll explain everything.”

  “And until then?”

  “I’m going to make love to you.” He kissed her softly. “And I’m going to fuck you.” The kiss turned raw and demanding, almost frightening in intensity.

  He wrapped one arm beneath her bottom, one across her back, and lifted her. “I’m going to drive you wild, sweetheart, which is what you deserve considering how wild you’ve made me.”

  It all sounded wonderful to her, savage and gentle, raunchy and sweet. Everything she’d ever wanted, and too much to resist. She laced her fingers in his hair and managed a smile. “Okay.”

  Relief darkened his face, wrought a groan from deep inside him. “I’ll prove to you that you can be yourself with me and I’ll love it.”

  She almost believed him.

  Without thinking about it, Erica wrapped her legs around his waist and returned his kiss. He started walking them to his bedroom and the friction of his rough denim between her open legs inflamed her. He kept kissing her, deep and long, and then she felt her feet touch the floor.

  Within seconds, Ian had the coverlet stripped off the bed. He opened a night table drawer and removed a whole box of condoms.

  How considerate, Erica thought, wondering how many of them they’d use, but glad they wouldn’t have to worry about running out.

  “Ian?”

  He lifted her onto the bed, stretching her out crosswise, then stepped back to strip off his jeans. Erica rose to one elbow to watch, her breath suspended, her fingers curled into th
e sheet. He pushed the denim down his long legs and stepped free, then stood there a moment to let her look.

  His pelvis was a shade lighter than the rest of his body. His legs were long and muscled, and his big, narrow feet were braced apart. Her gaze slowly rose again until she stared at his erection. He was long and thick and she swallowed hard. “My, my.”

  Naked, macho, and to her mind, perfect, Ian climbed onto the bed beside her. Erica wanted to spend at least five minutes just looking at him, absorbing the sight of him, but he didn’t give her the chance. He tangled his hand in her hair, took her mouth in a ravaging kiss, then didn’t stop kissing her. Not that she wanted him to stop.

  If she were honest with herself, she’d admit that she loved his caveman approach, loved the feel of his big hands now roaming her body, gripping her behind, kneading her breasts. She even enjoyed the rasp of his whiskers. From the first, his bold, assertive manner had drawn her. She didn’t like wimpy men, but she did like Ian. A lot.

  Maybe too much.

  She’d wanted him for a long time, she just hadn’t wanted to acknowledge it. Now that she had, she felt free—free to indulge her secrets, her desires.

  Maybe on Monday she’d thank Cameron and George for speaking out of turn. If they hadn’t, who knew what type of guy she might have ended up with? But because of them, she had Ian. And with Ian kissing his way down her throat to her breasts, she knew she was lucky indeed.

  Chapter Five

  Ian knew he should slow down a little, but he couldn’t. He cupped one soft breast, thumbed her nipple, then drew her into his mouth for a soft suckle.

  Erica squirmed, trying to get closer to him. Putting one leg over hers and pinning her hands above her head, he held her still. When he expected to hear her complaints over the restraint, he got a surprisingly hot moan instead.

  Ian lifted his head to look at her.

  Why, the little sneak. She liked being controlled sexually. And he liked taking his turn at control, at least in bed. Out of bed, well, Erica’s independent nature was part of what he loved.

  After transferring both her hands into one of his, he used the other hand to stroke down her body to her belly. “Can I reverse the order?”