by Cari Quinn
No strings. And no restraints…
Professional football player Bryan Townsend is sidelined for the next two weeks while he recovers from a knee injury. The upside? He’ll get to attend his sister’s wedding. The downside? He’s not sure he’ll have a spot on his team when he returns. So when he’s confronted by a sexy blast from his past the night of the bachelor party, he sees an opportunity to seduce the very stunning maid of honor.
But Bryan had no clue Jill St. John was still a virgin. Or that she was merely looking to expand her sexual repertoire without having to trust anyone with her heart. But with every encounter, Jill can’t help but fall for the man Bryan’s become. The clock is running down. If he’s to win it all, Bryan must make the biggest play of his career—choosing between his team…or the woman he’s always wanted.
Table of Contents
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Discover the Love Required series… No Dress Required
No Flowers Required
No Romance Required
Tempted By His Best Friend
If you love sexy romance, one-click these steamy Brazen releases… Lovers Restored
Game for Trouble
Exposed by Fate
Chasing Temptation
No More Mr. Nice Guy
Seducing the Playboy
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
Copyright © 2014 by Cari Quinn. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in any form or by any means. For information regarding subsidiary rights, please contact the Publisher.
Entangled Publishing, LLC
2614 South Timberline Road
Suite 109
Fort Collins, CO 80525
Visit our website at www.entangledpublishing.com.
Brazen is an imprint of Entangled Publishing, LLC. For more information on our titles, visit www.brazenbooks.com.
Edited by Stephen Morgan
Cover design by Heather Howland
Photography by iStock
ISBN 978-1-63375-142-2
Manufactured in the United States of America
First Edition November 2014
To my mom, who sneaks peeks of my books in spite of my requests for her not to, and to Taryn Elliott, who reads every version of my books even when she’d rather not.
Chapter One
Jill St. John’s entire life had come down to this moment—to strip or not to strip.
“C’mon, you can’t back out now,” Vicky Townsend said as she applied war paint to her face. Vicky was a natural beauty who needed very little help, except apparently when she was preparing to dance her booty off onstage in front of a crowd of hollering men—a group who happened to include her fiancé Cory’s bachelor party. The rest of the audience would be a wildcard. Talent Night at Triple Threat always attracted an interesting crowd. “Haven’t you always wanted to gyrate in front of a bunch of horny men?”
Jill lifted an eyebrow. Dancing in front of Cory and his other guy friends would be embarrassing enough, but half of the other people in the club were complete strangers.
Not that a bunch of strangers would stop Vic. Vic and her friends were providing the entertainment for her husband-to-be’s party, unbeknownst to him. At first, Vic had told Jill to sit down with the guys and enjoy the show. Apparently, the days of Vic being overprotective weren’t quite over. But Jill had finally convinced Vic to let her join in.
She’d pushed to join in the pseudo-stripping routine for one very good reason. Namely, Vic’s sexy older brother Bryan was scheduled to attend.
Scheduled, yes. A sure bet, no.
It seemed like she’d been angling to get closer to Bryan forever. Vic thought Jill barely knew her big brother, but she was wrong. They had a past Vic had never been privy to, for good reason. They’d talked a lot as teenagers—and one night, they’d even gone past conversation.
Haven’s resident football star was back in town for two weeks, and if she had her way, they’d be two very dirty weeks, thank you very much. Tonight would start them off on the right note.
But with every passing minute, it seemed less likely that Bryan would appear in time for the main event. If he even came at all.
Well, she wasn’t about to make a fool of herself with no payoff. Her stage fright was kicking in, and without the chance to make Bryan drool, she was out.
But how to break the news to Vic?
Hey, I know I asked you to let me join in, but I just remembered that I break out in hives whenever I have to wear anything made out of feathers, latex, or pleather. True fact.
She tried the soft approach. “Are you sure you need me?”
“Seriously? Jill, you begged me to let you do this.”
“I guess I’ve just got a little stage fright.”
Vicky turned toward Jill, her big brown eyes silently imploring. “You can’t back out now. I can’t go out there with just Mel and Nellie and Lex. We modified the routine for five dancers.”
“A routine I butchered during practice.” Jill tugged her lip gloss out of her purse and leaned closer to the mirror for a quick touch-up. “Besides, I’m not dressed to strip,” she added, glancing down at her little black dress and chunky heels. Thank God, she finished in her head.
As much as she wanted to shed her boring image and begin having the wild adventures she’d always dreamed about—ideally with Bryan—before she started Vet-Tech school in the fall, she wasn’t sure this was the way to start. She wasn’t harboring any illusions that Bryan would want to settle down with her, but that was okay.
She’d dealt with enough of her fame-junkie father’s in-and-out appearances in her life than to want a relationship with a man who lived in the spotlight. She wasn’t worried whether she could compete with all of his fans. She knew she couldn’t. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t grab him for a night. Or two. Or three.
Assuming she managed to put the moves on him before his defenses came up.
Jill didn’t have any moves, dancing or otherwise. But she had other assets to lure Bryan with. Even though Vic had so deviously devised the dance routine so that Jill would come on stage last, at the back of the group, she’d planned to head straight for Bryan. With luck, she’d have been on him before he could look at anyone else. Touching him. Tempting him. And hopefully seducing him…
“Hello, we have costumes.” Vic charged over to the chair piled high with glittery outfits, each one more scandalous than the last. “Grab the one you want now. Otherwise, if you wait until Nellie gets here, you’ll get stuck with second pick since you’re about the same size.”
“Same size as a woman who just had a baby? Jeez,” Jill said. “Boost my confidence a tad higher before I jiggle my junk on stage, will you?”
Vicky laughed. “She had the baby months ago, and you know she’s tiny. Besides, I thought you were having second thoughts.”
Jill had half a mind to do the show despite her serious misgivings just to show Vic she wasn’t a kid anymore. Okay, so she was still a virgin. But even that little sign of innocence was about to vanish in a night of orgasms. Assuming Bryan ever showed up. Where was he, anyway?
“I’m not having se
cond thoughts,” Jill said. “I’m just…”
“Stalling?”
“Maybe.”
“Listen,” Vic said. “I know I’m giving you a hard time, but this is going to be a blast. You’ll regret not joining in.” She widened her baby browns. “Come on, this is one of our last hurrahs as freewheeling besties.”
Just what she wanted to think about right now. Her best friend was on the verge of marrying an amazing guy. Goodbye Friday-night parties, hello responsible dates at home. Vic would probably have married-person stuff to do, like knitting socks or pressing trousers or learning how to make casseroles.
Which had its own kind of appeal. But Jill had no intention of settling down until she had a chance to let down her purple-streaked hair and party. She’d been the vanilla bean in their rocky road circle of friends for too long. Now was the time for her to go after what—who—she wanted.
Which begged the question: why would she pass up this opportunity to shake her groove thang? Sure, it didn’t look likely Bryan would be here in time to see their show—she’d checked the audience several times already—but there was still a chance. Wasn’t it worth taking the risk to get a shot at the man she couldn’t stop fantasizing about?
“I know I’d be missing out,” Jill said. “I’m not leaving—”
“But?”
“Let me step outside. Just give me a second to catch my breath.” And possibly take a few bracing sips of tequila from that flask she’d tucked in her purse for the occasion.
“Is that code for ‘slip out the door and never come back?’”
“No. I swear!” She dumped her lip gloss in her purse and pulled her bag over her shoulder. “I’ll be right back.”
Vic cocked an eyebrow. “If you leave, I’m so going to kick your ass.”
“Would I do that?”
“In a New York City heartbeat.”
Jill laughed and opened the door. “Worry about making Cory’s eyes cross.”
“Ass. Kicked,” Vic called as Jill pulled the door shut behind her.
Relief swept over her as she glimpsed the empty hall leading to the side exit. Perfect timing. No one would notice her. And if she decided after all that this was a bad idea…well, Vic hadn’t wanted her onstage anyway.
She rushed down the hallway, her mind already dancing with images of a black-and-white movie marathon and ice cream with hot fudge. Hell, she was even pretty sure she had a can of chocolate whipped cream leftover from that horrible date with Howard the Winker, who’d talked a way better game than he’d played.
He’d seemed horrified by her idea of making him into a human sundae on their way to possibly actually having sex. Since then, she’d adopted a new plan of action for if and when she ever managed to become intimate with another man. She’d skip the kinky sundae toppings and go straight vanilla at first so as not to scare off her suitor, then work on integrating the extra goodies into the banana split later.
Of course, then she’d heard Bryan was coming into town. And she’d be damned if she let that opportunity slip her by. Not just the man she’d wanted since high school to be her first. He had a reputation for wicked ways. Maybe ways wicked enough that she could throw caution to the wind and give her naughtiest fantasies free reign with him in the bedroom.
Ugh. One more reason to hate that he was nowhere in sight.
She pushed open the door and hurried outside, shivering in the chilly February air. She should’ve worn a jacket. It might be a good idea to get one from her car. She started around the building and towards the darkened parking lot. She stared up at the star-sprinkled sky, searching as she always did for the Big Dipper after Vicky had told her where to look. Total sham. She could never find—
As she rounded the corner of the building, she bumped into something rock-solid and let out an undignified yelp before her mouth brushed a ridiculously soft sweater. Even the taste of cotton, however, couldn’t distract her from the massive pecs under her hands as she grappled for purchase. “Wow. You’re hard.”
Oh Lord, had she really said that?
He laughed. “Not yet, but you’re off to a good start.”
Heat flared into her face. She peeked up between her bangs and gasped.
Shit, shit, shit.
It was Bryan.
“Easy, darlin’.” Rich, masculine laughter flowed over her, somewhat mitigating the embarrassment of colliding with the solid wall of muscle that made up Bryan’s chest. He steadied her on her heels. “Didn’t your mama ever tell you to watch where you’re going?”
That voice. It was deep and honeyed and capable of singeing off a woman’s panties from the fifty-yard line. She’d had dreams about that voice. Some of them even while she was asleep.
She took another peek from under her bangs. Bryan Townsend—Vicky’s older brother—gazed down at her with an amused smile lifting his smug mouth. The man radiated confidence, from his carelessly shaggy hair right down to the blindingly white sneakers bumping into her heels. Here was a guy who would never run from the opportunity to shake his thing onstage if it meant completing a seduction. And now that she knew he was here—now that he was so temptingly close to her—she was glad she hadn’t left.
For years, she’d done everything she could to get his attention. After Jill’s family had moved into the Townsends’ neighborhood as a kid, she’d spent lots of time at their house. That equaled lots of opportunities to be around Bryan until he’d moved away for football. He was more than five years older than she was, and off-limits in more than one way: Best friend’s brother, older, so experienced that he had a constant parade of chicks following him day and night.
Sheesh. Off-limits in more than one way? Try every way.
Until the night of Vicky’s seventeenth birthday party, when Jill had teased Bryan into kissing her. Even now she could remember the taste of cinnamon and ginger on his tongue. He was already playing football by then, drafted to a decent team, and he’d been so full of himself, smiling, talking up his role as second string quarterback, making her laugh with his friendly taunts. He’d had a beer or two, and she’d used every bit of her wiles to get him alone.
He was her first crush, her first kiss…hell, she’d wanted him to be her first everything, but he’d backed off after that night, rarely speaking to her when he came home. They’d had a few conversations, usually centered around her mom, who Bryan had grown close to over the years after his own had left the family to “find herself.” He’d become more and more famous, eventually being traded to the much higher profile Maryland Mariners. And the tabloids had kept her up-to-date—when she could stand to read them—about his many girlfriends. It seemed like he had a new one every month.
Whereas she’d had failed sexpeditions with dud after dud. But she wasn’t one bit bitter.
Now he was back in town for two weeks—just long enough for the kind of scorching affair she’d always dreamed of.
“Guess it’s a good thing I ran into you and not the big bad wolf,” she said softly. “Isn’t it, Bry?”
“Hold on… Jill?” He reached up to touch her hair, as though only now recognizing her. “What did you do to yourself?”
She laughed. Simply had to. Even without the makeover, he might not have recognized her, since the gaps between his visits home were growing larger. He’d never been a hometown kind of guy, despite the fact that he’d been born in Haven. Not that she’d changed her appearance that much. She’d grown out her hair, added purple highlights, and begun dressing a little more seductively in the hopes of breaking out of her shell—hence the dress that barely covered enough of her thighs to keep goose bumps from popping up on her skin.
The fact that she’d also hoped to see him tonight might’ve incidentally played into her outfit. Maybe.
“Well hello to you, too,” she said. “How long has it been?”
“Obviously not long enough,” he muttered, shifting from one foot to the other.
“Gee, thanks. Don’t worry about my feelings or anythi
ng.” She started to brush by him to go back toward the entrance, figuring the first part of seduction meant giving him something to chase.
And he didn’t disappoint. His hand closed around her upper arm. The contact shot her pulse into the red zone.
“Hold on,” he said.
She fought not to tremble and wasn’t entirely sure she pulled it off. He made it so difficult for her to act like an experienced woman of the world. “Hey there, paws off.”
“I don’t think we were done. Why are you here tonight?”
“This is a public club. I’m allowed to go wherever I would like.”
“No kidding. I meant why are you here on the night of Cory’s bachelor party?” He released her arm and pushed his hand into his back pocket. She couldn’t be sure in this light, but she was willing to bet he’d worn super tight jeans, like he usually had as a teenager. “Kind of coincidental, don’t you think?”
She sniffed. “I can’t say.”
“Oh, I bet you can. This has the markings of my sister all over it.” He nudged her against the wall and braced his hands on either side of her waist. “C’mon, Jilly Bean, ’fess up. What’s Vic up to?”
“Do not call me Jilly Bean,” she hissed, glancing to the right and left in case they’d been overheard. For a girl trying to shed her staid reputation, a childhood nickname like Jilly Bean was worse than the kiss of death. It was the kiss of purity, and Lord knew she already had plenty of that.
“Why? It’s your name, isn’t it?” He touched a purple strand of hair clinging to her cheek. “You might look a little different, but you’re the same innocent—”
“I’m not freaking innocent.” She went with her impulse and gave him a live demonstration by palming his cock through his jeans, right there against the side of the building. She flashed him a triumphant smile when a tremor went through his body, and she curled her fingers that much tighter. “Now,” she purred, “what was that you were saying?”
…
His little sister’s sweet best friend had her hand on his cock. And she wasn’t fumbling or blushing or shaking, either.
