His Best Mistake (Shillings Agency)

by Diane Alberts

  “Oh, I want to,” he said, coming in and kicking the door shut behind him. The second it clicked, they were in darkness. He grabbed her, curling his fist in the fabric at the bottom of her shirt, and hauled her against his impossibly hard body. He lowered his mouth to hers but stopped just shy of actually doing anything, his body tensing against hers. “Scarlett…”

  The false name on his lips was somehow hotter than if he’d used her real one. Sliding her hand behind the nape of his neck, she nodded impatiently. He needed to stop worrying so much and just kiss her already. It wasn’t like this was forever. It was just a single night. They’d never see one another again after this. “Yes. I’m fine. Yes. I want this. So just do it already.”

  He growled and closed the distance between them, his mouth melding to hers perfectly. The second their lips touched, it was like a thousand angels sang above, or a million fireworks went off, or whatever stupidly romantic sentiment a girl was supposed to think when she was kissing a guy who blew her metaphorical socks off.

  Because Chris?

  God, he was that guy.

  He backed her toward the bed, his hand fisted at her back to support her as she stumbled over her own clumsy feet, and they both fell to the soft mattress, lips locked, tongues entwined. The weight of his hips fell between her thighs, and she swallowed a groan, because it had been so long since she’d felt a man’s body pressing into hers. His hand crept up, sliding over her hip, up her ribs, to cup her cheek softly.

  Almost…tenderly.

  It brought tears to her eyes.

  Not because she was regretting her choice already, and not because she felt guilty for being with another man, but because she’d clearly chosen the right one.

  His other hand slid under her butt, cupping the soft flesh as he rocked against her, sending a surge of pleasure shooting through her veins. At the same time, he deepened the kiss, slanting his mouth over hers seductively. She was right. He tasted like whiskey and man. His cologne smelled like the beach, sandalwood, and Old Spice, and she had a feeling she’d never forget that combination. His skin on her skin. His mouth latched to hers. His hand on her butt.

  It was all…all…

  “Scarlett,” he breathed against her mouth. “Jesus.”

  Apparently he felt it, too. She nodded, grabbing his shirt and undoing a button. “I know.”

  He tore her shirt over her head before carefully peeling it off her cast, then kissed her again, not giving her time to be shy, or to second-guess herself. Because when his mouth was on hers, there was no thinking involved. It was just right. When she reached the last button, she pushed his jacket and shirt off in one swoop, and there was a faint sound as they fell to the floor. He wiggled his feet, and his shoes followed. He ended the kiss and strained to reach something.

  A crash sounded as he knocked over the alarm clock instead.

  He dropped his forehead to hers. “Shit.”

  A laugh escaped her. An actual laugh. “What’s wrong?”

  “I’m trying to turn on the light so I can see you, but I can’t find the damn cord.”

  “Why turn on the light at all?” she asked, biting her lip.

  It was one thing to do this, but another to see herself doing this.

  “Because.” He slid his hand over her hip, creeping up her ribs toward her breasts. “A woman as beautiful as you needs to be seen, Scar.”

  She swallowed hard, her blood heating at his words. “It’s on the bottom of the lamp, in the center. Not a cord. A switch.”

  He extended his arm and hit the switch, and the room was illuminated with a soft, romantic lighting. He looked down at her, his gaze slowly drifting over her body. She still wore a bra and her jeans, but she felt sexier than ever before, with him staring down at her like she was his reward for good behavior or something. And she couldn’t help but think he was hers.

  He knelt between her thighs, wearing nothing but a pair of khakis and a hell of a six-pack. He was hard. Toned. Slightly tanned. He had a few tattoos on his bicep, a half sleeve, and she’d never found ink so frigging sexy as she did right here, right now. His abs were impossibly defined, and she could crack a nut on those pecs of his. He was ridiculously sexy.

  Too sexy to be real.

  And yet…there he was…

  Kneeling between her legs…

  Being real…

  Staring at her as if she was the impossibly attractive one here.

  Her breath quickened, and she reached out hesitantly, tracing the eagle on his bicep. She’d only ever been with William in the past five years. And before him, it had been inexperienced boys in high school who did more groping and grunting than actual seducing.

  But Chris…

  He’s a guy who knows how to blow a woman’s mind.

  After all, he’d pretty much admitted he existed on one night stands now. A guy who did that, who seduced women and brought them back to his place all the time, had to have the right moves to seal the deal.

  “I was right,” he said, his voice dropping seductively low as he trailed a finger over her ribs, toward her belly button, his brown eyes deepening when her stomach reflexively tightened at his touch. “Definitely a lights-on situation.”

  “You have a thing for girls in casts?” she asked, trying to lighten her reaction to him, and the tension filling the air between them. It was almost too much.

  “I have a thing for you,” he said softly.

  “Chris…”

  He kissed her again, and she strained against him, but it was over as soon as it started. He stood, taking his hotness away with him, and everything inside her protested at the loss. When his hand slipped into his pocket and he pulled out a condom, she bit down hard on her lip. He gripped the waist of his khakis, undoing the button, and she undid hers, too, lifting a brow in challenge.

  A soft chuckle escaped him. “Only you could turn a simple undressing into a challenge, Scar.”

  Not speaking, she undid her zipper, still staring at him.

  The laughter in his eyes died, and he unzipped as well, then tossed them onto the floor. She was so busy staring at him—in skin-tight boxer briefs that did nothing to hide his huge erection…seriously…huge—that she forgot to do the same. He cocked his head. “Ahem.”

  “Huh?” She snapped her gaze off his…uh…attributes, and locked eyes with him. “What?”

  He mimicked her, lifting a brow. “Your pants. Off. Now.”

  “Oh. Right.” Hands trembling, she lifted her hips, and he came over to her, closing his hand over her red high-heeled shoe and removing it gently. He tossed it over his shoulder, then did the same to the matching one. When she rolled her pants down her thighs, he grabbed the ankles of her jeans and helped her out of them. All that remained to cover her modesty was a sheer bra and a matching pair of panties. “Happy?”

  “Not yet.” He knelt on the bed next to her, still wearing his boxer briefs, and slipped his hand underneath the strap of her bra. He tugged on it gently, letting it fall back to her shoulder. “You still have one extra article of clothing, after all.”

  She bit down on her lower lip. “I can fix that.”

  “So can I.”

  And then his mouth was on hers, and his hand slipped under her back, and with expert precision, he undid her bra with a mere flick of his wrist.

  Yep. This would be a night to remember.

  He grinned against her mouth at her surprised gasp, chucked the bra onto the floor with the rest of their clothes, and closed his palms over both her breasts without warning. She’d never been much for guys grabbing her boobs, even though they seemed to enjoy it. But with Chris?

  God, it was like he set her on fire with nothing more than a touch.

  His mouth moved over hers, and he squeezed her nipple between his thumb and finger, twisting with the perfect amount of pressure to send a pang of need shooting straight to her already tightened stomach. She moaned into his mouth, trailing her fingers down his hard back to the waistband of his boxers. Slow
ly, curiously, she slid her hand around the side of his waist, and skimmed her fingers over his erection.

  He stiffened, then rocked against her hand. She closed her fist around him and tugged experimentally, and he growled deep in his throat and slipped his hand between the two of them. He shoved her panties aside and teased her heated flesh with one finger. She moaned, arching her back, trying to get closer, whimpering into his mouth. He cupped her core, his fingers resting possessively over her for a second, his palm pressing against her clit. After running his fingers over her entry, he thrust two inside her, pressing against her sensitive flesh as he did so. She cried out into his mouth, dragging her nails down his back, and tightened her grip on his erection.

  He broke the kiss off, locking eyes with her, withdrawing his fingers before thrusting them back inside her with expert precision. With his hand between her thighs, he gave her the sexiest, cockiest, smirkiest smirk to ever grace the earth. And, damn him, he pulled it off. “Look, I’m not going to play games here, Scar. I’m not going to be able to go slow or easy, or make love to you sweetly. I’m going to fuck you. Can you handle that, or do I need to take a step back?”

  Chapter Four

  She stared up at him, cheeks flushed, lips swollen, hair messy, and he’d never seen a more beautiful woman than Scarlett, in bed with him, gasping for air, looking three seconds from either punching him, running, or kissing him until he forgot everything else in this world except her and making her scream his name. His fake name.

  Her grip on him tightened, but then she let go. For a second, disappointment hit him hard. He’d scared her off. Said too much. Been too aggressive. Scarlett had seemed like a girl who appreciated a man who took control, but he must have read her wrong.

  Just as he was about to push back off the mattress, gather his shit, and go, she shoved her hand inside his boxers, closed her palm over his cock, and squeezed. “Bring. It. On.”

  The feel of her skin on his like that…shit.

  He was going to have to use every fucking ounce of control he could muster to keep his cool. There was something about Scarlett, and how she made everything into a challenge of sorts, that turned him on too damned much. She was a challenge he needed to win.

  One he would win.

  This night was just that. A night. But he’d give her something to remember him by for the rest of her goddamn life…even if it killed him.

  He pushed off the bed, shoved his boxers down, and rolled a condom onto his aching cock. She watched him, mouth parted, eyes wide, resting her weight on her elbow. After the condom was firmly in place, he crawled up her body and melded his mouth to hers, slipping between her thighs again, thrusting his fingers inside her and twisting them just right to make her scream.

  And then he did it again.

  And again.

  She screamed, and he swallowed the sound, teasing her nipple as he fucked her with his hand, bringing her right to the edge of the abyss, then pulling back. She moaned and hit his arm, and he laughed. Being with her…

  It was fun.

  He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had fun…especially in bed.

  There was something about her that brought out a playful side that he’d almost forgotten existed. He wasn’t complaining. He loved his life. But he’d forgotten how to have fun.

  And he hadn’t realized that until tonight.

  He broke off the kiss and slid down her body, leaving little love bites as he went. Her shoulder. The curve of her breast. Her rib. Over her belly button. The inside of her left thigh. When he ran his tongue over the edge of her panties, she groaned, buried her hands in his hair, and pushed his head south. “Chris. Please.”

  Some small part of Mark stiffened at the name that wasn’t his coming from her lips, but he kept quiet, because she’d been very clear that she didn’t want to know him. Instead, he put his mouth to better use. With a hard, quick tug, her panties were gone. He slid his hands under her perfect ass, lifted her up, and rolled his tongue over her core.

  She dug her heels into the mattress, tightened her knees on either side of his head, and lifted her hips, straining to get even closer. His stomach tightened, his cock ached to be inside of her, but first he needed to see if she tasted as delicious as she smelled. Slowly, he closed his mouth over her swollen flesh, sucking on her gently enough to make her feel good, but not so gentle that it wouldn’t drive her crazy. He dragged the side of his tongue over her slowly, and damn it, she did taste good.

  Like heaven.

  She cried out, rocking against him wildly, her nails digging into his scalp as she fisted his hair roughly. As he fucked her with his mouth, she moved against him with abandon, and it was as intoxicating as her taste. She rolled her hips in a circle, and he scraped his teeth against her, giving her that edge she needed. Tensing up, she cried out, her knees squeezing his head slightly as she collapsed on the mattress. He slid back up her body, buried his face in her neck, and positioned himself at her entry. “Hold on tight, Scar.”

  She did. She wrapped herself around him securely, and it was the best damn feeling in the world—second to only one other thing. He shifted, placed his hands under her ass, lifted her up, and slid inside her in one smooth, hard stroke. As he did, he made sure to rub against her clit, and she tensed, eyes wide, and came again. She closed around him, and she tightened her grip as he bit down on the side of her neck, sucking as he pulled out then thrust back inside her with crystal clear precision. Sweat broke out on his forehead as he held himself back.

  He needed to make her come one more time before—

  “Chris?” she said, her breathy voice crashing over him like a tidal wave.

  He shifted his hips, driving inside her again. After she moaned, he asked, “Yeah?”

  “Fuck. Me. Hard.” She cradled his face tenderly, and she dug her heels into the sides of his ass hard at the same time, mixing pleasure with almost pain. “Now.”

  Something inside him snapped, and he stopped holding back, stopped trying to take his time. He just fucking lost it, slammed his mouth down on hers, and moved inside her with an animalistic need that he couldn’t fight or deny even if he wanted to.

  She clung to him, her hands roaming lightly over him like she was trying to memorize him by touch, driving him insane with her almost non-existent strokes. He did the same, since this would be their only night together. Her hips. Her thigh. The soft swell of her breast. She was so smooth and soft, where he was hard and rough. He couldn’t get enough of her.

  Every thrust, every drive, sent him closer to the edge. It had been so long, too long, since he’d been like this with a woman, and he wanted to bring her with him one last time. Lifting her up slightly, tilting her just right, he slammed into her again, and again, and again, until she came, her walls squeezing him torturously tight. Groaning, he thrust into her one last time, his own climax hitting him like a bullet, sending him flying into the sky and back.

  Letting out a soft groan, he collapsed on top of her, making sure to keep the bulk of his weight off her. Her damp flesh clung to his, her nails were still buried in his back, and her breaths rose and fell in tandem with his own. That was…Jesus.

  That had been fucking amazing.

  She let out a shattered breath. “Wow.”

  “Yeah.” He rose up on his elbows, smiling down at her. She looked so damn beautiful, lying there underneath him with red lips and rosy cheeks. “Wow.”

  She swallowed hard and shifted underneath him. “So…” Tapping his arm, she gave him a shy smile. “That was fun.”

  “Oh. Right.” Here he’d been thinking about how nice it would be to stay there, buried inside her, and maybe go for a round two…and she was wondering when he’d get the hell off her. Wincing, he pulled out of her body, rolled off the bed, and stood, all in one fluid motion. Dragging his hands down his face, he stared at her. She was perfection in the human form. Soft skin. Rosy nipples. Skinny waist. Generous hips. But more importantly, she’d reminded him what it felt li
ke to be alive. She’d given him that. He’d fucked a lot of women. He had no idea how many. He didn’t keep count. But he’d never forget this. Never forget his Scarlett. It was a strange feeling. “That was…I…”

  She sat up, tugging the blanket up and biting her lower lip. It was a shy thing, a modest pose, even, but on her…it looked sexy as hell. Especially since her red hair was a wild, untamed mess around her head. “I know. Me, too.”

  At a loss for words—what the hell was he supposed to say after that—he smiled and pointed over his shoulder. “I’m going to wash up, and then I’ll go.”

  She stared at him blankly. “Okay.”

  Was it just him, or did she look disappointed when he mentioned leaving?

  He rubbed the back of his neck, shot her another smile, and headed for the bathroom. Quietly, he shut the door behind him and let out a few choice curses under his breath. He was out of his comfort zone tonight. Normally, he would have found nothing wrong with fucking Scarlett and leaving her naked in her bed alone, because that’s what he did.

  But he didn’t want just one time with Scarlett.

  He wanted another taste of her, and the magic she wove to make him forget why he wasn’t supposed to be falling for some girl in a damn hotel bar. He wasn’t free to take risks on women who might not want to date a guy with a kid, and he wasn’t the type of guy to be okay with a girl not wanting to be a part of his kid’s life.

  Ginny was fucking amazing.

  Any woman would be lucky to meet her.

  Scarlett, as much fun as she was, would probably run in the opposite direction if he told her he was the single father of a three-year-old girl. He’d seen it happen enough times to know how that conversation would end. It was why he’d stopped trying to actually date and stuck to casual sex. First, she’d smile. Then she’d say how cute it was that he was raising a daughter on his own. And how sad she was for his loss. Then she’d mention how brave he was to embark on that world of pink bows and braids—which he could fucking rock, thank you very much—without a wife by his side. And then…