Rules of Negotiation

by Inara Scott

  His thumb traced a path over her lips, and she closed her eyes.

  “Damn it, Brit.”

  Cool lips followed his thumb.

  She tensed, but did not push away. He deepened the kiss, claiming her with the confidence of a man who anticipates no resistance. Anger shot through her with unexpected heat. He was always in control. For once, she wanted to be the one driving this train.

  Lightly, she bit his lip and then lapped it with her tongue, teased him with darting, feathery kisses until he growled in frustration and ground his mouth against hers. Something powerful took over her body, leaving her prisoner to an unfamiliar mixture of lust and fury. Dragging his face lower, she buried her tongue in his mouth, drinking deeply from him and then pulling away when he attempted to reciprocate.

  “You’re going to punish me, aren’t you?” he whispered, breathing heavily.

  “Do you deserve to be punished?”

  “Hell yes.” He slipped his hands lower to cup her buttocks and ease her against his lean hips. “Let me make it up to you. I screwed up—I did—but I can’t fake this. Surely you know that.”

  Still caught in the grip of an unholy passion, she locked eyes with him, ground her pelvis against his hardness, then deliberately jerked away. When the elevator doors opened, she walked out first, emphasizing the swing of her hips.

  He followed a step behind her, reaching up to cup her breasts. When his thumbs trailed across her nipples, she stopped and let him touch her, then drew her hands up to break the contact.

  “Not yet,” she hissed. “You’ll have to wait.”

  He opened the door to his apartment and stumbled inside. She closed the door behind them and grabbed the lapels of his jacket, tugging it down over his shoulders. The soft wool slipped to the ground with a soft rustle. He started toward her, but she held up one hand.

  “No,” she said.

  Trembling, she slipped off her own jacket and pulled the thin T-shirt over her head. Her breasts ached for contact, so she slid her hands over the taut skin, teasing the already firm peaks. Needing more, she rolled the nipples between her thumb and forefinger, closing her eyes for a moment to revel in the pleasure-pain she was inflicting.

  Brit stepped forward, his eyes glassy. “You are incredible,” he said, his voice hoarse. “Please. Let me touch you.”

  She grabbed him by the shirt and tugged his face down to hers, allowing him only a brief kiss before pushing him away. “Follow me.”

  She made her way to the bedroom, kicking off her shoes and then unhooking her bra as she went. When she reached Brit’s room, she turned to find him unbuttoning his own shirt. “Good,” she said, tracing the outline of her lips with the tip of her tongue. “Very good.”

  “Tori—”

  “No!” The voice sounded like it came from a stranger. “You don’t get to make the rules tonight. I do.”

  She unzipped her pants and let them fall to the floor. Then she climbed on the bed, propping herself on pillows so she could watch him standing in front of her.

  Slowly, his gaze pinned to hers, Brit removed the rest of his clothes. Tori stroked her breasts as she watched, her body and mind given over to the surge of power and need that raced through her.

  Finally, he approached the bed. Tori’s eyes covered the length of his beautiful olive skin, the dark crinkling hair on his chest, and his powerful erection. “May I?” he asked hoarsely.

  Tori nodded. Nothing would satisfy her now but him.

  Laying her head back on the comforter, she closed her eyes and stretched her arms over her head. The bed dipped when he knelt beside her. She could feel the heat emanating from him, brushing her skin like a delicate caress. He slid the back of one hand against her side and she shivered.

  With agonizing, steady movements, he caressed the delicate skin of her breast, circling the areola with his tongue before taking her nipple into his mouth. The gentle pressure of his lips sent her hips jerking forward.

  “More,” she commanded. “Harder.”

  Brit obliged, applying increasing pressure and heat, finally nipping at the tender flesh. When soft mewling sounds were coming from somewhere deep in her throat, he slid one hand across her rib cage and down to her mound.

  “I’ve been imagining you like this for the past two weeks,” he whispered. “I can’t get you out of my mind.”

  His fingers tickled her stomach, tugged down the soft lace of her panties. Stealthy kisses followed everywhere his hands touched, on the rounded curve of her belly, along the side of her hip, in the soft flesh behind her knee. Keeping her body utterly still, Tori let the magic of his mouth wash away the hurt and the anger, leaving behind only a steady, glowing need. When his warm breath tickled her mound, she moaned and thrust against him.

  He pushed gently on her knees. “Open for me, Tori. Let me love you.”

  Shameless with desire, she let her legs fall open and offered herself to him. Her heart skipped when he drew a short, harsh breath. Imagining her own lush, pink curves open to him, glistening with dew, she arched her hips and forced her muscles to relax.

  He slid over her, breathing gently on her soft, wet flesh until she tangled her fingers in his hair and pressed him against her. He lapped the edges of her skin and let his tongue follow a path around the edges of her clit. When she was almost ready to scream, he looked up with a twinkle in his eyes.

  “Shall I continue?”

  “Yes,” she said, her voice somewhere between a moan and a scream.

  He drew himself across her body, stopping to roll her nipples between his fingers. She half expected to see steam rise between them when he moved his hips and the heat of his erection touched the damp warmth between her legs.

  He butted against her. Each touch was like a shock that sent her hips moving to meet him. Her nipples swayed gently as she moved, and he covered one with his mouth, tugging gently at first, and then harder, until she sobbed and threaded her fingers through his hair.

  “Yes,” she breathed, “please, yes.”

  A trail of kisses took him from her breasts to the soft skin of her stomach. One hand traced a path back toward her breasts, to torment her hard, hurting nipples while his mouth moved lower. When his tongue returned to the needy flesh below she jerked against him, crying out with the pain and pleasure he was inflicting. His back flexed under her fingers, the muscles standing out in sharp relief under her nails, but she did not want to dissolve like this. She wanted him inside her, driving her into oblivion.

  Almost mindless with desire, she pulled him up, hoping he would understand her silent plea. He buried his face in her navel, breathing hard as if striving for control.

  “Don’t make me wait,” she said. “I want you now.”

  “And if I want to wait?” He leaned back on his haunches, a beautiful male animal surveying his mate.

  “You won’t,” she said, dropping her hands down to caress his tight buttocks.

  “Stop that,” he growled, catching her hands and leaving a kiss on each palm. “I need to concentrate for a second.”

  He rifled through a bedside table and withdrew a foil-wrapped packet. Tori grabbed the condom and unrolled it herself, sliding it over his length with a shaking hand. She caressed him, closing her fingers around the base of him and riding his length.

  “No more games,” she said. “I need you now.”

  With a groan he fell forward, and her hand came between them to guide him into her. When he was buried deep inside, he stopped. Tori wanted to sob with the pleasure of the moment. They were perfectly joined, their bodies meshing together like the pieces of a puzzle.

  Nothing had ever felt this right before.

  “Please tell me you don’t doubt this,” he said, as if the question was of vital importance.

  She closed her eyes and moved her hips. “Brit, not now.”

  He grabbed her head and kissed her mouth, then closed each eye. He held his lower body utterly still. “Tell me.”

  Tori thrust up against
him, her inner muscles working down the length of his cock. “It doesn’t matter.”

  “It does matter.” His shoulders tensed under her fingers, and she could tell how much it was costing him not to move.

  “I believe you,” she whispered.

  “Louder.” He thrust once, nearly taking her over the edge, and pulled out.

  “I believe you,” she said, opening her eyes and grabbing his hips. She wrapped her legs around him and arched her back.

  “Louder.” He thrust again, leisurely this time, and bit her nipple.

  “Yes,” she cried, “I believe you.” Her hips moved wildly now, her inner muscles holding him fast.

  “More,” he demanded. “Tell me what you believe.”

  “I…” her eyes fluttered closed and her head began to thrash on the sheets as he began a slow, deep rhythm inside her. “I believe you want me.”

  “And you want me, too,” he said, the rhythm increasing.

  Her head was starting to spin and she was no longer sure what she was saying.

  “God, I want you,” she said, shuddering as they began to move together, bodies taking over where minds continued to struggle. “I need you!”

  Released by her words, he buried his face in her neck and drove deeply inside her. It was hard and fast, but he made sure she was with him, screaming with pleasure before he finally abandoned himself and let out his own hoarse cry. Waves of rippling, soul-bending joy sent Tori’s body into a cataclysm. She shuddered and lurched against him and he clutched her even tighter. For an endless moment, they abandoned themselves to the raging passion that controlled their bodies, and their minds.

  …

  Tori sat up in bed as Brit returned from the bathroom. His gaze lingered on her naked breasts and slim waist as she drew herself to standing and took a few steps away from the bed. Amazingly, he felt himself becoming aroused again, minutes after a bone-jarring orgasm.

  Gently, he splayed his fingers over the curve of her hip and drew her against him. “Stay here tonight. I promise you won’t be late to your meeting tomorrow.”

  Her emotions, usually so close to the surface, eluded him. Velvety eyelids slid closed, her face a careful mask. “Maybe,” she said. “I’ll think about it.”

  Damn it, he was not going to allow her to take off. Not after what he’d felt when she moved underneath him. Surrendered to him. He tilted her face up and lightly kissed her mouth, starting first with that adorably plump lower lip, nibbling next on the edges. Her nipples hardened against his chest, and he smiled with satisfaction.

  “Tori, my obstinate beauty, I’ll set the alarm. I’ll make you buttermilk pancakes and coffee in the morning. You can devour the paper. You’re tired and need to get a good night’s sleep.” He peppered his words with kisses and then dropped down to take one rosy nipple into his mouth.

  She took a sharp breath, then let it out unsteadily. “I’m having breakfast with Melissa.”

  “Then no pancakes.” He rolled his tongue around the peak, slowly first, then again more quickly before turning to the other side.

  “I think I would sleep better at the hotel,” she said, her voice a breathy whisper.

  “I’m considering tying you to the bed, but I’m not sure that’s going to get me back in your good graces. You do forgive me, don’t you?”

  “Yes,” she squeaked, as he applied gentle suction and started backing her toward the bed.

  “Good. Because I only have a month before I leave. I would hate to waste any more of that time apologizing.” Deliberately, he focused his attention on her breasts. At least he knew what to do with them. He sure as hell didn’t know how to proceed with her.

  He wanted to tell her how he couldn’t stop thinking about her. How he called her office because he wanted to hear her voice. How every moment with her left him confused, turned on, and frustrated all at once. But how could he say that? And even if he did, what would she say in return?

  “A month for what?”

  Tori’s voice was flat, but the sudden pounding of her heart betrayed the emotion underneath.

  “A month for this.” Her knees hit the edge of the bed and she tumbled onto her back. He lowered himself beside her, guided her by the shoulder and waist onto her side, and then spooned their bodies together, stomach to back, joining them by as much warm skin as possible. Feeling like a teenage boy, he pressed his growing erection against her and looped his hands around to keep playing with the smooth skin of her breasts.

  “Oh,” she said.

  Brit drew in a ragged breath. He hadn’t been this nervous around a woman since…well, ever. He knew she didn’t want anything serious, and of course, neither did he. But he couldn’t imagine letting her walk away. Not now.

  “I realize I sent us in the wrong direction, Tori, but can’t we restart the clock? Start over from here?”

  “For a month, you mean. Until you leave.”

  Her odd tone made him curse the position that did not allow him to see her face. Had he insulted her somehow? Was it too much, too fast? He licked his suddenly dry lips. Was that sweat forming on his brow?

  What was he supposed to say?

  “I know you said you don’t do relationships, and I’m heading out of town so I thought…I’m not asking for a commitment. You don’t have to worry about that.”

  “Of course not. Brit Bencher doesn’t do commitments.”

  He had messed up. Gritting his teeth, Brit dropped his head against the back of her neck. Damn it!

  “Tori, please stay with me.” His voice was muffled by the fall of her hair.

  Her heart had slowed back to a normal rhythm. That could be good or bad.

  “All right. But I’m not promising a month. I’m terribly busy at work right now. And we do live in different cities. We’ll have to see how it goes.”

  Relief flooded him. He hadn’t even realized until that point that his hands had tightened around her waist. He forced himself to relax and let her go.

  “We’ll take it one day at a time,” he promised. “One day at a time.”

  …

  Tori watched Brit’s chest rise and fall as he drifted off to sleep, his breath coming in slow, even waves.

  At times like this, she wished she could cry. She would storm around the bedroom, sobbing and throwing things like a fifties movie star. Her hair would flow in perfect waves around her face, and beautiful, crystal tears would course down her cheeks. She would tell Brit he was an ass of the first order, and he would drop on his knees and beg forgiveness.

  But no tears came to her eyes. She wasn’t a film star, or a model, or even a twenty-year-old ingénue. She was a twenty-something lawyer who had just sold her soul to the devil.

  He was going to break her heart. Or perhaps it was already broken. Right now it was hard to tell. Something in her had soared that night when they made love. It had been different from anything she had experienced before—rough and yet so tender, unimaginable pleasure and then this pain. This aching pain for the relationship neither of them wanted, but her heart so desperately needed.

  She wasn’t so out of touch with her emotions not to recognize that. She needed him. She needed to feel this way. He had brought back to life a part of her she thought had died years ago. Wide-eyed and girlish, it was the part of her that believed in fairy tales and happy endings. It was the part of her that wanted to feel beautiful and sensual, not just smart and ambitious.

  But he didn’t want it. He wanted to have sex with her. She forced herself to say the word in her mind. He didn’t want to make love—he wanted to have sex. And just for a month, after which he would leave and recapture the adolescent fantasy he’d been nursing all these years. She didn’t doubt he needed it, just like she needed the fairy tales. The only difference was, he was going to get it, and she never would. There was no happy ending waiting at the end of this story.

  All these years, with all the horrible men she’d dated, she thought her problem was her inability to connect deeply. She though
t there was something wrong with her when Phil had broken off their engagement and all she’d felt was a vague sense of relief. But nothing could be further from the truth. She’d only known Brit for a matter of weeks, but in that short time he had penetrated her walls of protection and snuck past her formidable defenses. She was vulnerable, terrified, and unable to walk away.

  She slid down farther under the covers and rested her hand on his hip. He was so perfectly male, so wonderfully hard and warm. His scent of brandy and spice flooded her senses.

  He wanted her for a month.

  One month.

  And she had said yes.

  Two weeks ago, she would have said no. No way would she let him drag her heart over a cliff. But things were different now. He had changed her with his touch, with the admission that he had wrung out of her in the heat of passion. She needed him. She needed to feel like a woman, even if only for a short time.

  Tracing the outline of his thigh, Tori bowed her head and accepted her decision. She had to see this thing through. Take the month she’d been given and enjoy every minute.

  She knew he would break her heart. She knew in one month she’d be running back to the office, trying to repair the life that she’d always known. But she wasn’t thinking about that now. Right now, she was opening herself to pleasure.

  And to pain.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Gray metal filing carts filled with black binders and expandable folders lined the walls of the twentieth-floor conference room. The stale air reeked of take-out Chinese, coffee, and frustration. The team had already put in fifteen hours of work and everyone wanted to go home. But from the look on Karl Bulcher’s face, home would not be in the cards any time soon. He had appeared in the office around seven, an unexpected visit for a Friday night, and now droned from the head of the conference table about the importance of this transaction, how he needed to know his team was dedicated and committed to putting aside everything else to make this deal happen.