I’m fucking loving this.
“Oh, God, oh, God, oh my fucking God . . .” She drops her head to the side and whimpers softly, desperately trying to stay quiet as her body convulses and her clit beats repeatedly against my tongue. I keep going until I’m positive her orgasm is finished, then I back off and wipe my mouth with my forearm.
London props herself up on her elbows and looks at me like she can’t decide whether to kick me or kiss me. It’s hot as fuck.
“Say it,” I demand, reaching over to the nightstand drawer for a condom. “Say you want more.”
Her eyes are big and hungry as she watches me roll it onto my cock. Not gonna lie, it’s pretty impressive. I can see she wants it, but she’s torn between another orgasm and putting me in my place.
I’m betting the orgasm wins.
“Say it, London.” I take my dick in my hand and rub the tip over her clit.
“I want more,” she hisses.
I give her just the crown. “More what?”
“You know what.”
I pull out. “You have to say it.”
She glares at me, then growls the words I want to hear through clenched teeth. “I want your cock.”
I slide inside her again, giving her a few solid inches past the crown, but not everything. “How much?”
“All of it. I want all of your cock.” She doesn’t even hesitate.
I like that.
Easing in all the way, slowly, because I’m not a complete jerkoff, I don’t stop until I’m buried balls deep and she’s dropped her head back on the pillow, breathing hard. I’m dying to move, and holding back is difficult, but I can’t let her off the hook until I win this round. I know I said this wasn’t a game, but she made it into one.
Victory is in sight as she wraps her arms and legs around me. “Now what do you want?” I whisper in her ear.
She digs her fingernails into my back, and the tension pulls tighter in me.
“Tell me, London.”
She rakes them down either side of my spine and down over my ass.
“Tell me.” Already my body is beginning to move of its own accord.
She tilts her hips and pulls me in deeper. “I want you to fuck me, you son of a bitch.”
I would have laughed at the name-calling if I wasn’t so out of my mind with need. It was just like her to try for the last word, even as she was doing exactly what I said she would.
The thought makes me almost delirious as I move inside her—I brought the high and mighty London Parish to her knees. I made her want me. I made her beg. She hates me, and here she is in my bed, naked and sweaty and panting my name, whispering the sweetest words I’ve ever heard out of her mouth.
“Oh, God, Ian, what are you doing to me?”
“Making you come again.” I’ve changed the angle slightly so I can give her more of what she needs. Listening to her body is easy. She moves freely and unabashedly, taking what she wants and unafraid to show how much she’s enjoying it. It’s such a contrast from the way she is in everyday life—and so fucking hot to me.
I don’t want a lifeless blow-up doll in my bed, no matter how gorgeous she is. Give me London every time—feisty, greedy, passionate, playful. I remember that even as a shy seventeen-year-old girl, she’d been surprisingly fearless in bed, so much so that I told her I didn’t believe she was a virgin. She swore she was, but said I made it easy for her to get carried away. The memory nearly makes me lose control.
“Yes, yes, yes,” she breathes, her heels digging into the backs of my thighs as I fuck her harder and faster. “Right there, just like that.”
Good thing, because the next few seconds has me going stiff as a board over her, groaning way too loudly as my cock throbs again and again. Thank fuck she comes right then too, her hands tight on my ass as her body spasms around me.
We probably woke up the kids.
Possibly even the neighbors’ kids.
Possibly even the kids two time zones and seven states across the country.
I don’t care. Worth it.
Eleven
London
Oh, dear.
Oh, calamity.
Oh, my God.
I’m lying beneath Ian, crushed by his warm bare chest, his skin covered with a light sheen of sweat, just like mine is.
I want to tell him to get off me. I want to tell him I can’t breathe. I want to tell him what we just did is a mistake and can’t ever happen again—and I need to say it before he does.
“Ian. Move.” I shove at his giant slab of a muscular torso. “I need air.”
“Oh. Sorry.” He lifts himself off me, pulling out and rolling onto his back.
I stay on my back too, still trying to catch my breath. I’m not quite sure how that just happened. Hadn’t I gone to sleep on the couch in order to avoid this very problem?
Ugh, now I was one of them—those stupid, flighty girls who can’t resist Ian’s charms or his body or his big stupid dick.
His big, stupid, magical dick.
I squeeze my eyes shut and force myself not to think about it. Not its size or its talent or the way it felt pulsing deep inside me. Because its owner is not good for me. Those fantasies I had earlier in the night were just that—fantasies. Clearly I let them work me up a little too much, so much that I was unable to resist Ian’s advances. He’s probably laughing at me inside his head, congratulating himself on yet another conquest.
I sit up. “This was a mistake.”
He looks at me. “It was?”
“Wasn’t it?” I risk a glance at his face, but can’t read his expression in the dark.
“I don’t know. You said it.”
“Because I think it was. And we can’t do it again.”
“Why not?”
“Ian. We can’t stand each other most of the time. And we’re supposed to be working on getting along for the kids’ sake. Throwing sex into the mix will only complicate things further.”
“You didn’t enjoy it?”
“That’s not the point.” I swing my feet to the floor. Where the hell are my pants?
“Where are you going?”
“Home. The kids shouldn’t find me here.”
Ian sighs and gets out of bed. “Don’t go anywhere yet. I’ll be right out.” He disappears into the bathroom while I hunt around for my clothes, and by the time he comes out, I’m dressed again, sitting on the foot of the bed.
“I’ll sleep on the couch,” he says, apparently unperturbed at being naked in front of me. “I’m just going to grab a shower first.”
I stare at the floor. “I prefer to go home.”
“Why? It’s nearly morning anyway.”
“Exactly. I have to get up for work soon.”
He’s silent for a moment. “Okay. Suit yourself.”
“Do you have a sitter for tomorrow night—tonight—Jesus, I don’t even know what day it is.”
“Told you I could make you forget that.”
I look over at him, careful to keep my eyes on his smug expression and not let them drift lower. “You did. Congratulations.” I stand up. “But what I didn’t forget was who you are and who I am and all the reasons why you and I do not belong together.”
“Jesus, London. It was just sex.”
Just sex. Right.
“Did you not want it?” he asks when I remain silent.
“I wanted it.” I refuse to let him make me a victim.
He shrugs. “So did I. So there you go. Two consenting adults had some sex, and it was a good time. No one died. The end.”
It’s so easy for him to dismiss it that way. I have to remember that next time he comes at me with those hands and that mouth and the big, stupid, magical dick. Because it’s not easy for me, and if I’m not careful, those feelings I’ve worked so hard to keep buried all these years will come rushing to the surface.
“You’re right,” I say. “And now that it’s out of our system, we can move on. See you Saturday. If the kids need anything
before then, let me know.”
I congratulate myself on not eyeballing his junk as I walk by him and head down the hall. See? I can be strong. I can get past this. I can totally be the kind of woman who enjoys sex with a guy she hates because dammit, the chemistry is good. I grab my purse off the kitchen table and let myself out the back door.
Once, I clarify to myself as I hurry across Ian’s yard and into mine. I can enjoy it once. Moving forward, it’s out of the question.
I let myself in the back door of my house, and immediately my cat comes looking for attention, meowing and curling around my legs. Bending down, I give him some love before I head upstairs to my bathroom. It’s only five-thirty, and I normally don’t get up for another hour, but something tells me I wouldn’t be able to sleep anyway.
Instead, I get into my shower and stand beneath the spray, picturing Ian doing the same.
Asshole.
The water drips down, washing away what just happened. I feel dirty, used, and yet I keep hearing myself begging him to go further, deeper, harder. There was no denying how much I wanted him. The feel of his hands on my body was everything I remembered and more.
But I’m a total idiot if I think there won’t be any fallout after what just happened.
God, I could use a phone call with Sabrina right now.
Once I’m all clean, I get dressed and head out to the deck with my coffee. I look at his house, wondering what he’s doing and if he feels half as conflicted as I do.
I curl up on the outdoor couch, pulling the blanket snugly around me, and lean my head back.
Next thing I know, I hear screaming and jolt off the couch.
“Chris! Give it back!” Morgan screams.
Shit. I fell asleep.
“Say you’re sorry!” Christopher yells back at her, holding her backpack over the pool.
“No!”
“I’ll drop it!”
Morgan tries to grab at it.
“Christopher!” I yell his name, but before he can respond, Ian exits the house.
Ruby is on his hip, and he marches right towards his nephew. Ian rips the backpack out of Christopher’s hands, tosses it to Morgan, and then shoves Chris in the pool.
“Ian!” I call out without thinking.
Our eyes meet across the yard and my stomach drops. He looks angry. Really fucking angry. He also doesn’t have a shirt on and looks ridiculously hot.
Great. I need this like a hole in the head.
I lift my hand tentatively, not wanting to be un-neighborly after fucking each other’s brains out.
Does the bastard wave back?
Nope.
He flips me off like the immature jackass he is.
“Real nice, Ian.” I lift my mug instead of the finger I’d like to send his way. “I’m glad to see you have the morning routine down pat! You’re doing great there, huh?”
He shakes his head and walks back inside his fortress.
I stand here for a second, fighting back the urge to march over there and beat some sense into him. How dare he treat me like I’m the bad guy? I didn’t crawl on top of him. I didn’t lie in his bed and give him any indication that I wanted to have sex.
I was just fine on the damn couch.
He picked me up.
He carried me.
He touched me, made me beg for his cock, and then I begged for it . . .
Ugh.
I head inside, slamming the door behind me. Only that man can make me this angry. I swear, I’m the most even-tempered and level-headed person unless I’m around Ian Chase.
Thankfully my impromptu nap didn’t set me too far off my schedule. Showering and getting dressed earlier actually saved me the eighteen minutes I slept over. I grab my pre-made overnight oats from the fridge and head out the door for a long day at the office.
Where my life is put together and the only complication is how much of a raise I should get for being such a badass.
“I understand that, Casey, but I can’t travel this weekend,” I try to explain to my boss.
There’s no way I can bail on Ian tomorrow. He’ll never find a sitter in time, and I can’t do that. No matter the very undefined status of our—whatever we want to call it—it wouldn’t be fair to him.
I agreed to care for the kids at night on our designated days, and I don’t break my word. But I don’t want to tell my boss that. He won’t give a crap about my plight, and he might doubt my ability to handle bigger accounts if I indicate I have a higher priority than work right now.
As if on cue, Casey continues, “You’re single, no kids, and the client that we’ve been vetting for six months wants you to go to New Jersey. There are no options here.”
“I can’t go tonight, I just can’t.”
He huffs. “You better have an amazing reason why not.”
My anger starts to build as he waits for my reason, but I don’t owe him one. I can’t go and that should be enough. “I don’t have to give you a reason. Per my contract, I require forty-eight hours’ notice for any travel. This is less than twenty-four.”
“This is a million-dollar account, London,” he growls.
In other words, this is your job and I don’t give a shit about your contract.
Dammit.
“Let me see what I can do,” I sigh.
“You have an hour. Figure out whatever you need to, but make it happen.” He pauses at the door and turns back. “The position for the Vegas supervisor is opening up soon, London. We both know you’re the obvious choice, but something like this could really sway me towards Martin. I would think hard about whatever is keeping you back . . .”
“I understand.”
When he closes my door, I drop my head on my desk. Could this day get any worse? It’s just one damn thing after another. This is the job I’ve been working my ass off for every day for years. Moving up in this company is difficult, and I’ve done everything to get to this point.
Ugh.
I need to talk to Ian and figure a way out of this. I grab my phone and make the call I know is going to go over like a brick through glass.
“Hello.” Ian’s sleepy voice fills the line.
“Shit, sorry, I’ll call back,” I whisper. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”
I forgot he didn’t get home till three-thirty and then he used his big magical dick to make me do things under duress.
I hear movement through the phone. “It’s fine. I’m up now. What’s wrong?”
Okay. I need to take advantage of his hopefully hazy-bad-decision-making wakeup. “Nothing’s wrong, I just have a problem.”
Ian groans. “So something is wrong if you have a problem.”
“Right.” This is going so well. “I have to go out of town . . .”
Silence.
“Ian?” I prompt.
“When?”
“Umm, I have to fly out late tonight. . . It was totally unexpected, and my boss is being really rigid on it. I tried so hard to get out of this, but I’ve been trying to land this account for a year. It’s . . . it’s just not something I can say no to, but I don’t want to let you down either,” I ramble as fast as I can before his wrath is sure to come.
And I wait.
And wait.
However, the only thing that happens is complete and total silence.
I bite my lip, and nerves flutter in my stomach as the quiet speaks loudly. Did he hang up? Is he so mad he isn’t even going to respond?
I look down at the screen to check, but the time is still going.
Well, this awkward.
“You’re running away,” he finally says.
“What?”
“You’re running away. We have sex and now you suddenly need to leave town on the day you say you’ll watch the kids.”
He’s got it all wrong. “I’m not running anywhere and this has nothing to do with what happened this morning. This has to do with my job. I don’t have a choice, Ian.”
I know Ian lives in the world whe
re everything revolves around him, but this isn’t fair. I love those kids and I just fought with Casey about going in the first place.
“Whatever,” he huffs.
“You’re such a dick. I didn’t want to have to call you. I didn’t want to do this, but I have a job too, you know?”
“Do whatever you need to, London, just like I will.”
“What does that mean?”
“Nothing. Can I go back to bed now or do you want to tell me you’re moving and I need to get a live-in nanny since you’re unreliable already?”
So he’s going to punish me for needing to work? He’s acting as though I enjoy going back on my word.
“I’m sure one of your conquests would be up for the job,” I say, letting my anger come through.
Ian lets out a laugh and then goes quiet.
“What’s so funny?”
“Nothing, just that I thought I already had that. But seems the women I fuck aren’t able to hold up their end of the bargain. Or maybe it’s just the one I fucked last night.”
The air vanishes from my lungs and it feels like I’ve been punched. I can’t say anything because words fail me. I knew what happened last night meant nothing and that I left, but his words were cruel. Tears prick my eyes, but I hold them back.
“Yeah, seems we both had misconceptions about the other person. Thanks for the reminder, Ian.”
I hang up the phone, and a tear falls.
Twelve
Ian
I’m a fucking asshole.
I know this.
When she left this morning, it was like being thrown back in the past all over again. She left without a backward glance. She acted like she wasn’t a willing participant and I was just a guy who needed to get laid.
She didn’t see how bad I wanted her.
How, as much as I want to hate her, I looked at her like she was the fucking sun in the sky.
She called it a mistake and walked out.
After she left, I took my shower, drank a shit ton of coffee, and stared at her backyard. I stood at the window, watching her long, wet brown hair brush against her back as she moved toward the couch on her deck. Watched how she pulled the blanket around her. Wished it was my arms holding her close.
Hold You Close Page 11
