by Maggie Wells
“I forgot how jaded you are.”
“Realistic.”
“I bet you’ve never married.”
“Never found the right girl.” A wicked glint lit his eyes as his fingertips bumped along the line of her spine. The heel of his hand came to rest above the curve of her ass. “How are you? Only good things happening for you?”
She almost choked on the question’s casual assumption. Will was the kind of man who never did anything he didn’t want to do. How could she possibly tell him she’d given up having choices mere hours after he left her bed all those years ago?
“Yes, my life has been a dream come true.”
His snicker told her the sarcasm hit its mark. “Good, I’m glad.”
The gentle pressure of his fingertips in the small of her back held her snug against him. He led with the easy confidence of an expert. She shouldn’t have been surprised. Will had been waltzing his way through women since he mastered the art of the sustainable hard-on.
“So, Josie.” He drawled the nickname directly into her ear. “Anyone waiting at home for you these days?”
She stiffened and pulled away, prying her reluctant body away from the heat of his as her mind raced. The smug smirk on his face should have made him look like a complete dick, but it didn’t. He was a man made to observe humanity with a hefty dose of amused contempt. And she was a woman determined to reshape her destiny.
Jo didn’t want to flirt. She had no patience for being coy. The days of playing the unattainable woman of mystery were long behind her. She had the cards she’d been dealt. Damned if she’d give in and fold just because life was playing with a marked deck.
“No, but I do have a giant hole in my porch and a thousand termites. So, I’ve got that going for me.” She attempted to tug her hand from his, but Will held fast. “I don’t want to play this game. I don’t want to dance with you. I want—”
“Easy. Not a game, just a dance.”
She squinted up at him, trying to decipher the hidden agenda lurking behind his devil-may-care exterior. At last, full lips settled into a grim line of defeat. He heaved a put-upon sigh.
“I was flirting, Josie.” He took her pause as permission to pull her against him again. The carefully cultivated scruff on his cheeks and jaw snagged her hair. His lips grazed the burning tip of her ear. “You used to be much better at this.”
The whispered chastisement cooled her ire. “Yeah, well, I used to be better at a lot of things.” She pressed her cheek to his lapel, and settled into the smooth pattern of his lead. “You’re not exactly out of practice.”
“Oh, don’t be so quick. Now I’ve seen you again, and I’m thinking my number might be up.”
The blatant insincerity of the statement struck the right chord to put her at ease. Melting into his embrace, Jo shook her head. “You’re just as full of it as ever.”
“Love at second sight. Never thought it would happen to a nice guy like me.”
Surrender curved her lips. “You were never a nice guy.”
“Aw, come on.” He ducked his head to whisper into her ear. “You used to think I was nice.”
She peeled herself from his chest, grasping his broad shoulders to steady herself as she looked him straight in the eye—as straight as possible after a couple glasses of wine, a flute of the bubbly crap, and two shots of tequila. Or was it three? No, two. She didn’t get to glass number three. Something she needed to remember to remedy. Fate was a first-rate bitch when a girl forgot to play the game.
“No, not nice,” she reiterated. He laughed his hellraiser laugh and every nerve ending in her body quivered. She tried to play it cool, brushing her hair over her shoulder with a careless flick, but being cool when her insides danced a samba proved to be beyond her. Her heart beat in time to the sway of his hips. She teetered on the edge, nearly drawn in by the lure of him. “Not one bit nice, but you were so bad it was good.”
Will pulled her close again. “We were good.”
His smooth insistence made Jo miss a step. The toe of her shiny new skyscraper pumps nipped his scuffed wingtips. The solid strength of his arm wrapped snug around her kept her upright, but the seductive haze of tequila and nostalgia began to dissipate. He spoke the truth. For a blink of an eye, a long time ago, they had been good together. But not good enough for either of them to make the extra effort to keep things going once life interfered.
“For a while,” she whispered. “We were good for a little while.”
He inclined his head, a gesture of acknowledgment. Their affair was never meant to be permanent.
Still, she couldn’t resist a little dig. “Then again, I knew that about you going in. Didn’t I? You’re the kind of guy who can only be good for a while.”
At least the man had the good grace to blush, but the sheepish look was too practiced to be sincere. “I’m older and wiser now.”
“Older, yes.” She curled his lapel in her fingers then smoothed the fabric under her palm. Wetting her lips, Jo met his gaze directly. “Wiser? I may even buy that,” she conceded. “But you’re still you, Will. Through and through.”
Something behind her caught his attention. “I know someone who isn’t….”
Before she could ask what he meant, a deep voice sliced through the strains of the overheated rock ballad.
“Excuse me.”
Their slow glide ground to a graceless halt, and Will turned his attention to the man beside them. “Yes?”
Greg’s scowl deepened the grooves bracketing his mouth. His nostrils flared when he cast a sidelong glance at her, but he made no move to stake a claim. At least, not physically. “This was supposed to be my dance.”
Will smirked. “Was it? I don’t know how you’d think so. I saw this beautiful woman standing all alone and I thought—”
“I know what you thought,” Greg cut him off by turning to Jo and offering his hand palm up. “Wasn’t this my dance?”
The DJ’s swirling lights reflected in his dark eyes. The song reached a wailing crescendo, but she read his intent loud and clear. She also spotted a compelling sincerity burning bright in their depths. “Yes.”
Chapter 2
Greg narrowed his eyes when he spotted Will’s big, grubby paw resting millimeters from the sweet curve of Josie’s ass. She swayed in time with the music, but to his relief, it didn’t look like she was falling for Will tricks. The snug black cocktail dress flowed over her lush curves, but her spine was stiff.
The flash in Josie’s wide hazel eyes when he moved in on them hit him like an uppercut. Driven by tequila and testosterone run amok, he offered his hand. The tips of her fingers grazed his palm and he closed his tight around them. He eyed his friend with undisguised triumph and pulled her into his arms with a flourish only a man one scotch and two shots into the evening would attempt.
Will gave a shrug, the same couldn’t help myself bit he’d been falling back on for five decades, then faded into the darkened room. The flush of victory pulsed through Greg’s veins.
Josie gazed up at him. Her full mouth pulled into a solemn line, but her eyes sparkled with an excess of womanly wiles. He fell for every one of them. “Hello.”
The throaty rasp in her voice tied his gut in a knot.
Tucking his chin to his chest, he held her flush against him. “You’re lucky I came along to save you.”
Those lush lips curved, nudging her cheekbones and a breathtakingly appealing dimple appeared. “Am I?”
Greg fixed her with a stern glare. “He’s no gentleman.”
“And you are?”
Lowering his head, he answered with a, “Yes,” that sounded more like a resounding hell no.
Josie slid her hand up his shoulder to curl around the back of his neck. One wicked finger slipped under his shirt collar and his nerve endings seized as if she’d plugged him into a strobe. Dark lashes fringed her eyes and her cheeks flushed pink. She wet her lips and fixed her lazy gaze on him. T
he sigh she heaved pushed her breasts firmly against his chest as she snuggled into the curve of his neck.
He skimmed one hand up her back and under her hair. The other landed on her hip, but he wanted to slide it on her ass more than he wanted his next breath. The flow of blood to his dick left him buzzy and lightheaded. Or maybe it was the alcohol. Either way, the effect was potent.
Josie feathered a sweet, soft kiss to his throat just above the bowtie and whispered, “Damn.”
The heat of her breath permeated the pleated front of his tuxedo shirt. She parted her thighs enough to allow him to insinuate one leg. The scrape of her fingernails on his nape pushed him closer to the edge. Every beat of the undulating rhythm led them into temptation. A low groan snarled in his throat. It threatened to cut off his air entirely, but Greg didn’t care. Knotting his hand in her hair, he tipped her face up to his.
“I’m not a gentleman,” he confessed, his voice rough and raspy even to his own ears. “I pretend I am, but I’m not.”
“I’m glad. I don’t have much use for gentlemen.”
Her breathy exhalation should have amused him, but it only made him want.
“The minute I first saw you, I wanted you.” His dick surged against her soft belly. “I want you now.”
Her smile grew wider and her eyelids heavier. “Good.”
“I want you so much it’s all I can do to keep from stripping you out of that dress and… Right here. Right now.”
Interest flared in her eyes. A dare burned hot. “And…what right here, right now?”
The last notes of the ballad faded away and the driving beat of the latest dance craze pulsated all around them. Greg tightened his grip on her hip and tangled his fingers in her hair. Her head fell back as he held her close, grinding his aching dick against her soft belly. His lips grazed the shell of her ear. “Fuck you. I want to fuck you.”
Her body grew soft and pliant, molding to his like a second skin. Her short, shallow breaths puffed against his jaw. She whispered the sweetest, softest, “Oh, yes,” imaginable, but he heard her loud and clear.
Cradling her skull in his palm, he flexed his fingers, gathering her thick, glossy waves in greedy handfuls. Lust and tequila pulsed through his veins. Each brush of her leg against his whittled away at his already strained control. “You’re killing me, I want you so bad.”
“Then take me.”
Everything in Greg’s world screeched to a halt. Oh, the music kept pounding and bodies continued to pinball around on the parquet, but he was completely oblivious to them—to everything but the woman in his arms and the hotel keycard scorching a hole in the pocket of his monkey suit.
He pulled back to look her straight in the eye. “God, I want to, but….” He trailed off, taking in the crowded wedding reception in one sweeping glance. Ben would be too disappointed in him if he left this soon. And Emily would nail his balls to the wall. And he wanted his balls. He needed them. They would be absolutely essential to ending this evening the way he wanted. “I can’t leave yet.”
“Of course you can’t,” she murmured with an understanding nod. “You’re the father of the groom.”
He stared at her, searching her luminous eyes for a glimpse of the man he’d been moments before—bold and brash, too cocky to care about anyone’s opinion but his own, and far too dangerous to be labeled something as innocuous as Dad. Berry red lips parted as he lowered his head. He reveled in her gasp of welcome surprise, but she stopped him mere millimeters from meeting his goal.
“I doubt the kids would appreciate us making out on the dance floor.”
“Come with me.” Without wasting one more second, he grabbed her by the wrist and took off toward the exit. Josie’s pulse raced under his thumb. Alcohol transformed into rocket fuel. The click-click-click of her impossibly sexy shoes provided all the spark he needed to propel them from the reception.
They burst from the dim ballroom into the brightly-lit corridor. A few guests straggled in from the outdoor smoking area. A bunch of his ex-wife’s cronies huddled together in one of the over-upholstered conversation pits. The conference area of the hotel stretched in each direction. Miles and miles of bland wainscoting camouflaged doorways. Discreet brass placards granted each room the dubious distinction of a former president’s name but gave no hint of what might lie within.
Josie gave him a none-too-gentle tug, turning him away from the gleaming glass doors and leading him deeper into the cream-colored canyon. They passed the Harrison, Taft, and Pierce ballrooms before he slowed his stride to match hers.
“The coat room is in use, so we need to find the Clinton or Kennedy room,” she huffed.
Greg squinted at a brass placard as they passed. “There can only be forty-four of these, right?”
“At most.” She turned her hand and laced her fingers through his. “I figure the ballroom alone should account for Washington through Adams.”
He shot her a sidelong glance. “John Adams or John Quincy Adams?”
“Let’s be optimistic and say Quincy.”
“Great.” He bobbed a quick nod. “Only thirty-something more to go.”
Josie trotted to keep up. He told himself to slow down, but he couldn’t. Scanning the length of the hall, he spotted a promising interruption in the flow of blankness and made a beeline for the alcove. Triumph surged inside him. The universal symbols for relief beckoned. A startled squeak burst from her lips as he pinned her to the door to the men’s bathroom. Josie stared up at him, wide-eyed and breathless.
He searched her face for any sign of reticence but found only the pearly pink flush of arousal. “I know this isn’t the most romantic place in the world, but I have to kiss you now.”
“Okay.”
One breathy little bit of permission—two simple syllables—smashed a lifetime of self-control to pieces. He claimed her mouth with all the finesse of a plundering Viking. Her lips were firm and supple but soft. So soft he wasn’t sure he’d ever escape. He wouldn’t want to. Angling his head, Greg took the kiss deeper, sampling her sweetness again and again, savoring the glide of silky skin, sinking into the lush welcome of her body.
Their combined weight made the door swing inward. Her gasp broke the kiss. The momentum of their tangled bodies sent them stumbling into the tiled room. Alcohol slowed his reflexes, but he found a soft place to land. Pinned against the interior wall, Josie blinked up at him doe-eyed with surprise. He mustered the presence of mind to mutter a quick, “Sorry,” before claiming her mouth again.
This time she opened for him like a flower. Groaning his thanks, he plunged his hands into her hair and dove into her mouth. The brush of her tongue against his nearly took the top of his head off. He drew on the velvet softness, grappling for the handle on his baser instincts even as she writhed against him. He fought the crazy rush of lust. The one that made him want to push her dress up over her hips and bury himself inside her. The temptation was great, but somehow he managed to resist.
Greg sank into the kiss, letting pure sensation carry him along with each maddening swipe of her tongue. She didn’t just kiss, she consumed. Soft lips slipping and sliding against his, she took everything she could from each shift in angle. And he gave everything he had. Willingly. Licks, nips, pecks, and plunges. He was about to suggest they take a break. They needed to catch their breaths and maybe try to cling to a little propriety.
Josie had other ideas.
His bottom lip trapped between her teeth, she opened her eyes and stared straight into his as she slipped her hands under his tuxedo jacket and grabbed his ass with both hands.
Every honorable thought he ever had disintegrated on contact.
He thrust against her, taking the opportunity to free his tenderized lip when she gasped.
“So long.”
For one crazy second he thought she was complimenting his assets. Then she circled her hips in an ancient, elemental dance of seduction.
“It’s been too l
ong.”
Greg gave up hope on drawing a full breath ever again. Desire and decorum waged battle inside him. No surprise, dignity was getting its ass kicked. It had been too damn long for him, too. The pulse below her jaw throbbed, soft and vulnerable. Her racing heartbeat revved his engines.
“We should stop,” he murmured against the tender skin.
Possessive hands streaked up his back, fingers splayed wide and greedy. “Don’t stop.”
“We’re in the men’s room.” The gruff reminder sounded lame even to his own ears, but location was the only argument he could grasp with her hands all over him. “I want you in my bed.” He caught her ear lobe between his teeth and bit. He suckled the afflicted flesh, using his tongue to toy with her earring then to trace the delicate shell of her ear. “Naked.”
“Here.”
A shudder of unbridled anticipation ran through him. He claimed her breast and teased the pebbled tip through the slick satin of her dress. Every impulse in his body jumped up and shouted a resounding Yes! Gathering the hem of her skirt, he stroked her bare thigh. She shuddered and shifted, urging his hand closer to the place she wanted him to touch, but he didn’t dare. Instead, he clung to the one tattered thread of common sense her assertion hadn’t incinerated. Lifting his head, he peered into eyes clouded with desire and issued his most compelling argument.
“Anyone could walk in any time.”
Josie wet her lips even though they were still shiny from his kisses, but she didn’t look away. Desire flushed her cheeks. She grasped his wrist and moved his hand so his fingers grazed the smooth silk covering her pussy. “I know.”
The acknowledgment squeezed through wicked red lips. Her eyes widened as Greg slipped two fingers under the elastic of her panties. Downy curls damp with moisture tickled his fingertips. His head spun when she spread her legs, inviting him to partake. One brush of teasing fingertips promised everything he wanted. And possibly more. He had to take a taste.
Without warning, he parted the lips of her pussy and thrust those two lucky digits home. Josie moaned and pushed against him, riding the heel of his hand. She held his gaze. The pulse he’d kissed still beat fast and hard, but she wore a serene smile as she made him an offer no man could possibly refuse.
