by Jill Shalvis
“Of course I liked it,” she hissed.
“Then what’s the problem?”
“The problem is, I wanted one night. Seeing you again wasn’t part of the plan.”
“Plan, or fantasy?” he drawled, a knowing glimmer in his eyes. “That’s it, isn’t it? You fantasized about indulging in one night of wicked sex with a stranger and now that you have it’s time to move on. I’m not judging you, just pointing out that the fantasy doesn’t have to end yet.”
The word fantasy sounded intoxicating the way he said it. Before she could stop herself, she wondered what other fantasies they could play out together. Role play? Bondage? Her cheeks grew warm at the latter notion. It turned her on, the idea of tying Brody up…straddling him while he lay immobile on the bed…
No. No, she was so not going there. She seriously needed to quit letting this guy jump-start her sex drive.
“The way I see it, you’ve got two options,” he said. “The easy way or the hard way.”
“I can’t wait to hear all about it.”
“Sarcasm doesn’t become you.” His cheek dimpled despite his words. “Now, the easy way involves the two of us heading over to the Lakeshore Lounge for a drink.”
“No.”
He held up his hand. “You haven’t heard the rest.” A devilish look flickered across his face. “If you choose to pass on the easy option, that’s when things get a little…hard.”
Heat spilled over her cheeks. Her eyes dropped to his groin, almost expecting to see the long ridge of arousal pressing against the denim of his jeans. Fine, no almost about it. He had an erection, all right, and the second she noticed it her nipples grew even harder.
“See, if you deny me this one harmless drink,” he continued, “I’ll be hurt. Maybe even a tad offended. Also, your father seems to be nearing the end of his conversation—yup, he’s shaking Stan’s hand. Which means he’ll head back over here just in time to hear you say no, and then he’ll ask you what you’re saying no to, and I’m sure neither one of us wants to open that can of worms.”
She turned her head and, sure enough, her father was walking toward them. Great. Although she knew her dad could handle the knowledge that his twenty-six-year-old daughter wasn’t a virgin, she didn’t want him privy to her sex life. Especially a sex life that involved one of his players.
Her dad might be totally gaga over his team, but he’d often warned her about the turbulent nature of hockey players. The latest warning had come during her last visit to Chicago, when she’d been hit on by an opposing player after a Warriors game. She’d declined the dinner invitation, but it hadn’t stopped Presley from launching into a speech about how he didn’t want his daughter dating brutes.
If he knew she’d gotten involved with Brody, it would just add to his stress.
“So how about that drink, Hayden?”
Her pulse quickened when she realized if she agreed to Brody’s request, chances were they wouldn’t get around to the drink anyway. The second he had her alone he’d be slipping his hands underneath her shirt, palming her breasts, sucking on her neck the way he’d done last night, as he’d slid inside her and—
“One drink,” she blurted, then chastised herself for yet again letting her hormones override her common sense. What was wrong with her?
With a soft chuckle, Brody rested his hands on his trim hips, the poster boy for cool. “I knew you’d see it my way.” He grinned.
* * *
THE LAKESHORE LOUNGE WAS one of those rare bars in the city that offered an intimate atmosphere rather than an intrusive one. Plush, comfortable chairs looked more suited to an IKEA showroom; tables were situated far enough apart that patrons could enjoy their drinks in privacy, and a pale yellow glow took the place of bright lighting, providing an almost sensual ambience. It was also one of the only establishments that still adhered to a strict dress code—blazers required.
It was a damn good thing he was Brody Croft. Even better that Ward Dalton, the owner of the lounge, claimed to be his number-one fan and turned a blind eye to Brody’s casual attire.
Dalton led them across the black marble floor to a secluded table in the corner of the room, practically hidden from view by two enormous stone pots containing leafy indoor palms. A waiter clad in black pants and a white button-down appeared soon after, taking their drink orders before unobtrusively moving away.
Brody didn’t miss the baffled look on Hayden’s gorgeous face. “Something wrong?” he asked.
“No. I’m just…surprised,” she said. “When you said we were going for a drink, I thought…” Her cheeks turned an appealing shade of pink. “Forget it.”
“You thought I’d drive you right back to your hotel suite and pick up where we left off?”
“Pretty much.”
“Sorry to disappoint you.”
She bristled at the teasing lilt of his voice. “I’m not disappointed. In fact, I’m glad. Like I said before, I’m not interested in getting involved.”
He didn’t like the finality of her tone. For the life of him, he couldn’t figure out why Hayden didn’t want a repeat performance of last night. They’d been so good together.
He also couldn’t decide whether or not she’d known who he was all along. Her father was Presley Houston, for chrissake. She didn’t need to like hockey to know who the players were, especially the players on her own father’s team. And yet the shock on her face when she’d bumped into him outside the locker room hadn’t seemed contrived. He’d seen authentic surprise on her beautiful face. Not to mention a flicker of dismay.
No, she couldn’t have known. It wouldn’t bother her this much if she had.
He appreciated that she liked the man and not the hockey player, but that only raised another question—what held her back from getting involved with him? Was it the fact that he played pro hockey, or was it something else? Someone else, perhaps?
His jaw tightened at the thought. “What exactly is stopping you from pursuing this?” he asked in a low voice. “It’s more than Presley’s current problems, isn’t it?”
The way she stared down at the silk cocktail napkin on the table as if it were the most fascinating item on the planet deepened Brody’s suspicions.
He narrowed his eyes, unable to keep the accusation out of his tone. “Is there a husband waiting for you in California?”
Her gaze flew up to meet his. “Of course not.”
Some of the suspicion thawed, but not entirely. “A fiancé?”
She shook her head.
“A boyfriend?”
The blush on her cheeks deepened. “No. I mean, yes. Well, kind of. I was seeing someone in San Francisco but we’re currently on a break.”
“The kind of break where you can sleep with other people?”
Whoa, he had no idea why he’d become antagonistic, or why his shoulders were suddenly stiffer than Robocop’s.
What was up with this sudden possessiveness? They’d only had one night together, after all. Staking claims at this point was ridiculous.
“As I keep telling you, my life is complicated,” she said pointedly. “I’m in the process of making some serious decisions, figuring out what my future looks like.”
He opened his mouth to reply only to be interrupted by the waiter, who returned with their drinks. The waiter set down Brody’s gin and tonic and Hayden’s glass of white wine, then left the table without delay, as if sensing something important was brewing between them.
“And this boyfriend,” Brody said thoughtfully. “Do you see him in your future?”
“I don’t know.”
Her tentative answer and confused frown were all he needed. He wasn’t an ass; if Hayden had expressed deep love for the other man in her life, Brody would’ve backed off. He had no interest in fighting for a woman who belonged to someone else. But the fact that she hadn’t answered a definite yes to his question told Brody this was fair game.
And nothing got him going more than a healthy bout of competition.
He lifted his gin and tonic to his lips and took a sip, eyeing her from the rim of his glass. Despite her prim shirt that buttoned up to the neck, she looked unbelievably hot. He could see the outline of her bra, and the memory of what lay beneath it sent a jolt of electricity to his groin.
“We’re not doing it again,” she said between gritted teeth, obviously sensing the train of thought his mind had taken.
He laughed. “Sounds like you’re trying to convince yourself of that.”
Frustration creased her dainty features. “We had sex, Brody. That’s all.” She took a drink of wine. “It was amazing, sure, but it was only sex. It’s not like the damn earth moved.”
“Are you sure about that?”
He pushed his chair closer, so that they were no longer across from each other, but side by side. He saw her hands shake at his nearness, her cheeks flush again, her lips part. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to see she was aroused, and, damn, but he liked knowing his mere proximity could get this woman going.
“It was more than sex, Hayden.” He dipped his head and brushed his lips over her ear. She shivered. “It was a sexual hurricane. Intense. Consuming.” He flicked his tongue against her earlobe. “I’ve never been that hard in my life. And you’ve never been wetter.”
“Brody…” She swallowed.
He traced the shell of her ear with his tongue, then moved his head back and lowered his hand to her thigh. He felt her leg shaking under his touch. “I’m right, aren’t I?”
“Fine,” she blurted out. “You’re right! Happy?”
“Not quite.” With a faint smile, he slid his hand under the soft material of her skirt and cupped her mound. Running his knuckles against the damp spot on her panties, he gave a brisk nod and murmured, “Now I’m happy.”
Hayden’s focus darted around like a Ping-Pong ball, as if she expected their waiter to pop up in front of them any second. But the table was well secluded, and nobody could approach it without entering Brody’s line of sight. He took advantage of the privacy, cupping Hayden’s ass and gently shifting her so that her body was more accessible. He dragged his hand between her legs again, pushing aside the crotch of her panties and stroking her damp flesh.
The soft sounds of people chatting at neighboring tables excited the hell out of him. He was no stranger to sex in public, but he couldn’t say he’d ever pleasured a woman in an upscale bar where any minute he could get caught.
A sharp breath hissed out of her mouth as he rubbed her clit in a circular motion. “What are you doing?” she whispered.
“I think you know exactly what I’m doing.”
He continued to boldly rub her clit, then danced his fingertips down her slick folds and prodded her opening with the tip of his index finger. The wetness already pooling there made his cock twitch. He wanted nothing more than to shuck his jeans and thrust into that wet paradise. Right here. Right now. But he wasn’t that bold.
“Brody…you’ve got…to stop,” she murmured, but her body said otherwise.
Her thighs clenched together, her inner muscles squeezed his finger and a soft moan slipped out of her throat.
“You’ll come if I keep doing this, won’t you, Hayden?”
He looked from her flushed face to the neighboring table, several feet away and barely visible through the palm fronds separating the two tables. He hoped to hell the couple seated at that table hadn’t heard Hayden’s moan. He didn’t want this to end just yet.
“Brody, anyone can walk by.”
“Then you’d better be quick.”
He pushed his finger into her core, smiling when she bit her lip. The look on her face drove him wild. Flushed, tortured, excited. He was feeling pretty excited himself, but he managed to get a handle on his own rising desire. He’d pressured her to spend the evening with him because he had something to prove, and what he wanted to prove wasn’t that he was dying for a second go, but that she was dying for it.
Applying pressure to her clit with his thumb, he worked another finger inside her, pushing in and out of her in a deliberate lazy rhythm. His mouth ached with the need to suck on one of her small pink nipples, but he tightened his lips before he gave in to the urge and tore her shirt open. Instead, he focused on the heat between her thighs, the nub that swelled each time he brushed his thumb over it and the inner walls that clamped over his fingers with each gentle thrust.
Keeping one eye on Hayden’s blissful face and the other on his surroundings, he continued to slide his fingers in and out, until finally she let out a barely audible groan and squeezed her legs together. He felt her pulsing against his fingers and resisted a groan of his own as a soundless orgasm consumed her eyes as well as her body.
She came silently, trembling, biting her lip. And then she released a sigh. Her hands, which at some point she’d curled into fists, shook on the tabletop, making her wineglass topple and spill over the side of the table.
He quickly withdrew his hand as Hayden jumped at the startling sound of the glass rolling and shattering on the marble floor. Her sudden movement caused her knee to hit one of the table legs, making the table shake and the ice cubes in his drink collide into the side of the glass with a jingling sound.
From the corner of his eye Brody saw the waiter hurrying over, and yet he couldn’t fight a tiny chuckle. Turning to meet Hayden’s dazed eyes, he laughed again, swiftly fixed her skirt and said, “Still want to tell me the earth didn’t move?”
5
ABOUT TWELVE HOURS after experiencing her very first public orgasm, Hayden strode into Lingerie Dreams, the classy downtown boutique owned by her best friend.
She was in desperate need of Darcy right now. Darcy and her one-night-stand mentality would definitely help her get her thoughts back on the right track and off the track that sent her hurtling straight into Brody Croft’s bed.
Funny thing was, he hadn’t pushed her after their interlude at the lounge last night. He’d paid for their drinks, walked her out to her rental car and left her with a parting speech she couldn’t stop thinking about.
The next move’s yours, Hayden. You want me, come and get me.
And then he’d left. He’d hopped into his shiny SUV, driven off and left her sitting in her car, more turned-on than she’d ever been in her entire life. Though she’d been ready to go home with him, he’d made it clear it wouldn’t happen that night, not when he’d had to twist her arm to get her there.
Oh, no, he wanted her to initiate their next encounter. Something she was seriously tempted to do. Which was why she needed Darcy to talk her out of it.
The bell over the door chimed as she walked into the boutique. She sidestepped a mannequin wearing a black lace teddy and a table piled high with thongs, and approached the cash counter.
“Something terrible has happened,” Darcy groaned the second she saw her.
“Tell me about it,” Hayden mumbled.
But the look of dismay on Darcy’s face made Hayden push the memory of last night aside for the moment. She caught a whiff of sweet floral scent, looked around and finally spotted a bouquet of red and yellow roses peeking out of the metal wastebasket next to the counter.
“Courtesy of Jason,” Darcy sighed, following her gaze.
“Who’s Jason?”
“Didn’t I mention him?” She shrugged. “I hooked up with him last week after yoga class. He’s a personal trainer.”
Like she could actually keep track of all the men Darcy hooked up with. Hayden didn’t know how her friend did it, wandering aimlessly from guy to guy.
“And he sent you flowers? That’s sweet.”
Darcy looked at her as if she’d grown horns. “Are you insane?” she said. “Don’t you remember how I feel about flowers?”
Without waiting for an answer, Darcy leapt to her feet and checked to make sure the store was void of customers. Then she marched over to the front door, locked it and flipped the Open sign over so that it read Closed.
With her kitten heels click
ing against the tiled floor, Darcy gestured for Hayden to follow her, drifting over to the fitting-room area. Along with four dressing rooms, the large space offered two plush red velvet chairs.
Hayden sank into one of the chairs and reached for the bowl of heart-shaped mints Darcy left out for her customers. Popping a mint into her mouth, she studied her friend, who still looked upset.
“Wow, this flower thing is really bugging you.”
Darcy flopped down and crossed her arms over her chest, her face turning as red as the hair on her head. “Of course it bugs me. It’s not normal.”
“No, you’re not normal. Men give women flowers all the time. It’s not poor Jason’s fault he picked you as the recipient.”
“We went out for smoothies after yoga and fooled around in his car when he dropped me off at home.” Darcy made a frustrated sound. “How in bloody hell does that warrant flowers?”
“What did the card say?” Hayden asked curiously.
“‘I hope to see you again soon.’”
She was about to comment on Jason’s thoughtfulness again but stopped herself. She knew how Darcy felt about relationships. The first sign of commitment had her fleeing for the exit and looking for the next one-night stand. But it really was too bad. This Jason fellow sounded as nice as Doug.
Shoot, she’d promised herself she wouldn’t think about Doug today.
She still hadn’t returned his phone call, and when she’d woken up this morning there had been another message from him on her cell. How could she call him back, though? She’d only been gone a week and already she’d jumped into bed with another man. She wondered how nice Doug would be when she told him about that.
“I’m going to have to find a new gym,” Darcy grumbled, her blue eyes darkening with irritation. She started fidgeting. Crossed her legs, then uncrossed them, clasped her hands together, then drummed them against the arms of the chair.
Hayden could tell her friend was about to explode. Any minute now…no, any second now…
“What is the matter with the penis species?” Darcy burst out. “They claim that we’re the needy ones, calling us clingy and high-maintenance, accusing us of being obsessed with love and marriage. When really, really, it’s what they want. They’re the mushy ones, sending flowers as if a smoothie and a backseat blow job qualify as a monumental event that needs to be celebrated…” Darcy’s voice trailed and she heaved a sigh.
