SeductiveIntent

by Angela Claire

  “You were giving away the bride, remember? Not hard to figure out you’re the only son of the illustrious Beckett family.”

  “Yep. That’s me all right. So are you here with someone?”

  “Why?”

  He laughed. “You’re not big on questions, are you? I was just asking because I was hoping I might give you a call sometime and I was wondering whose toes I might be stepping on if I did.”

  “Give me a call?”

  His sensual mouth tightened. “You know, for a date maybe.”

  A date. Such a convenient all-purpose euphemism. What a surprise.

  She was suddenly feeling very testy indeed, but she had a job to do. Fine, she’d do it. “Well, I always say there’s no time like the present. We could have a date right now. Do you have a room here?”

  He eyed her. “Sure I have a room. This is my home.” She had expected him to counter that he could take her to his apartment instead and she’d have to pretend her urgency was such he should just take her upstairs. She hadn’t expected him to call this estate home or, for that matter, to hesitate the slightest bit in taking her up on her offer.

  “You grew up here?” she found herself asking, even though it had nothing to do with anything except her own curiosity. That hadn’t been in the file she and Arthur had compiled on him.

  “As much as anywhere, I guess. We had a family apartment in Manhattan too, which Virginia lives in now. Or I guess she did, since she’ll be moving in with Aaron now. Formally. His apartment’s in the same building as our headquarters, which is perfect for a workaholic like her.”

  “Formally?”

  “Moving in with him formally. They’ve kind of been joined at the hip for the last year.”

  “Oh. In love, I guess you mean.”

  “I guess.”

  She was getting off track. “So anyway, why don’t you take me upstairs then?”

  There was that hesitation again.

  “Unless you don’t want to.”

  “What’s your name?” he asked.

  “Sophia.” No reason not to give him her real name.

  Or as real a name as she had. She figured she’d been about five or six years old when she realized that unless she and Arthur were playing a con in which he’d assigned them both names, he didn’t call her anything but “kid” and she didn’t know what to call him except “mister.”

  “Your name?” Arthur had said when she badgered him enough. “Fine. It’s Sophia. And I’m Arthur. Are you happy now?” How old had Arthur even been back then? He looked no different really than he did now.

  “Well, Sophia,” Brendan said. “Why in such a hurry?”

  She expected a player like him wouldn’t ask a question like that. She supposed she should be insulted. She kind of was. But maybe his midnight burglary was making him a little cautious, even if he hopefully would never connect her to it. That was understandable.

  Or maybe she hadn’t been playing nice enough for his tastes. Time to change that.

  “I just thought,” she reached one finger up to his lips, moving even closer to him, “it might be fun to have a little private party together. Wouldn’t you like that?”

  The burglary last night must have rattled his brain more than he’d given it credit for. This Sophia was so hot he was practically panting. So why was he slowing her down? His answer to “take me upstairs” should have been an automatic “okay.”

  If she wanted to go from playful—actually sort of hostile—banter one minute to getting down to business the next, who was he to question the pace? When she put her long, slim finger up to his lips, he felt a jolt. Which for a guy translated into an immediate erection, and frankly he didn’t want to attend his sister’s wedding sporting an erection. He kissed her fingertip and then moved it away. Clasping her hand, he walked with her back into the house, smiling at acquaintances as he passed them. Ducking in the back way, he took the servant’s stairs up to the second floor, leading her into his suite of rooms a moment later. He’d brought women to Bransport many times, usually when no one was around. And they inevitably cooed at the size of the place. Sophia, however, said nothing.

  Who the hell was this girl and why the hell was he bringing her to his room?

  He looked at her in her halter dress as he closed the door to his bedroom suite. God, she was stunning.

  Oh yeah, that was why.

  He was so fucking easy.

  Admittedly, he had a pretty high sex drive and women had come to him from an early age. So why was he questioning it now? The woman last night must have done more damage to him than just a conk on the head.

  The woman last night.

  Was that it? Was that what was bothering him? It couldn’t be…she couldn’t be… No. He remembered the feel of that woman. She had been tall, maybe as tall as this Sophia, but she had been relatively flat in comparison. He looked down at this girl as she casually went to sit on the edge of his bed, crossing her legs and looking around at the room. The height may be right, but if he’d had those boobs under him before, he would have noticed. No, he was just letting that Miss Smarty-Pants from last night spook him.

  “Nice,” she said.

  “Yeah, I was just about to say the same thing, although I do feel like Sonny in the Godfather.”

  She arched an eyebrow.

  “You know the wedding scene? Sneaking off during his sister’s wedding and the bridesmaid up against the door and…” At her blank look, he drifted off. Probably not wise to get into banging a girl against the door. “You never saw the Godfather?”

  “The old movie?”

  “The classic.”

  “Oh, no.”

  She looked at him expectantly. So much for small talk apparently. Since they were in his bedroom and everything, he supposed he could move right ahead and be honest here, forward as it may seem. “Listen, I’m sure this makes me sound like a jerk, but I just have to say you have the most incredible body.” He loosened his tie.

  “And I imagine you’ve seen quite a few.”

  He laughed. “Maybe, but yours is…” He took the opportunity to take a straight-forward look at her chest, no subtlety, not hiding it. They were adults here. They knew the score.

  “Useful,” she supplied when he tapered off.

  His hands paused at his tie. “Not exactly what I had in mind. I was thinking more along the lines of a work of art, but was trying not to be so trite.”

  Useful? Why the heavens had she said that? Of course it was true. But that was no reason to say it to a mark. Still, Sophia had meant useful. As bait in the game. It had been for years. As soon as Arthur realized that she was growing up in such a way that she could no longer be invisible, he made the most of it and made sure she was seen. At first he had to work at it with plunging necklines that felt funny on her even though she was technically “legal”, as Arthur kept reminding her. But soon her body blossomed in the most unexpected way and her coltish long legs and slim height were instantly transformed into a platform for a sex goddess.

  “Men love boobs,” Arthur had assured her in what he undoubtedly considered a pep talk. “Just stop hunching over and put them out there. They’ll do the trick for us.”

  The trick. At first, Arthur had the idea that could be more than an expression. He actually mulled over trying to turn her into a high-class escort and it wasn’t her horror at the idea that discouraged him from that path either, as far as she could tell. It was simply that he couldn’t figure out how to make enough money at it.

  “It’d probably be only serious money to take your cherry. Some sheik or other might pay some bucks for that, but then where would we be? Ten grand here. Ten grand there. In the long run, it’s not a big money maker. We’re better off using your body as bait.”

  That was the first time Sophia had heard it, but not the last. Arthur had depersonalized her body into a tool of the trade for them. As long as the mark was straight, they were in business. Married, not married, old, young. None of that matter
ed. They took the bait.

  Of course whether she slept with them or not in the end was immaterial to Arthur, but he had a slight preference for not. “Makes it stickier,” he’d advised. Once she’d had a taste of men’s reactions to her body in private, she had a preference for not too. All that pawing and groping and giddy excitement. It was off-putting.

  It worked better with the game anyway to cut things off after a little frisky foreplay. It was true men liked the chase best of all, no matter what they said. Being the girl who gave them just a taste—literally, usually—and then got away drove them all crazy.

  With this one, though, she had to admit she didn’t truly want to get away. Not yet anyway.

  Brendan approached and when he reached out to her, his touch was surprisingly deft, light, barely tracing the skin of her shoulder. Such restraint. Of course a man who was perpetually full was not likely to be a glutton.

  Not sitting down next to her yet, just standing in front of her, he ran the back of his fingers along the under-curve of her chin. It was wimpy of her to shiver, but she did. Leaning closer, he whispered, “Your skin is so soft.”

  “Yeah, all over,” she whispered back, trying to move him along to that part where he got grabby and uncontrolled.

  He smiled slightly. “Tease.”

  “You have no idea.”

  He leaned farther forward and kissed her lightly, tracing her lips with his tongue. She opened her mouth wide to let him in, but he still hovered, tracing, kissing, even nipping. She was waiting for the part where he shoved his tongue so far in her mouth she had to learn to stifle her gag reflex. It usually came right around when a guy was cupping her breasts for the first time. But Brendan did neither. As he came to sit next to her, one hand just lingered at her waist, the other still engaged in that maddeningly shivery caress of her chin, her neck as he kissed her.

  Boy. This guy was good. Was it that he sensed exactly what a woman needed and acted accordingly? Because she’d seen him act greedily, almost roughly. Seen it with her own eyes. Hard to believe that woman had excited him more than she did, but she supposed it was possible. She knew breasts weren’t every guy’s thing. She just hadn’t met one for whom that happened to be the case.

  Then she pulled away slightly to look into Brendan’s usually sunny blue eyes. They were almost black, the pupils were so large. He was excited all right. He was just holding back.

  Time to come out and play, Mr. Beckett.

  Men were visual creatures. So Sophia reached up to the back of her neck and slowly untied the top to her halter dress. Years of practice had her automatically arching her shoulders back to counteract the loss of the support from the dress. Real breasts succumbed to gravity, slight in her youth she knew, but it would be more pronounced as she aged. Even as she had the thought, she saw in his expression what she always saw when men saw her topless for the first time. And it wasn’t any concern with gravity.

  For just a second, the expression was there. Greed. Want. And then it was gone. As if he’d pulled it back, and his usual affable expression was back in place with his eyes firmly on her face rather than her breasts. “You really are a tease,” he murmured, taking an audible deep breath, his fingertips tracing her collarbone now.

  “I’m not teasing you, Brendan.” His restraint, oddly, was egging her on. Usually, she just had to flash a guy and he was all over her. “I’m undressing. I’m right here. You can touch me, if you want.”

  “What do you want?”

  “What?”

  “I didn’t hear you say you wanted me to touch you.”

  Now that was annoying. “Do women usually beg for your touch? What—”

  She reminded herself of the game immediately. She wasn’t here to rail at his incredible conceit. As much as she wanted to. What she and Arthur had in mind was a little making out and then a little stopping to slow them down, during which time she’d casually stroll around the room to see if she could tell if there was a safe anywhere. Maybe even ask him to go get her a drink so she could search the room more thoroughly. Arthur meanwhile would check out the more obvious places, like the library.

  But first she had to get Beckett to the making-out part, to unsettle him a little. Distract him. So automatically she amended, “Of course I want you to touch me, Brendan.”

  He laughed. “That wasn’t what you were going to say. What you were going to say is probably something about me being full of myself.”

  “Probably,” she snapped.

  “So your invitation to touch you doesn’t seem that sincere.”

  She forgot to arch her back, to put her best asset forward. Instead, she put her hands on her hips like a fishwife, or maybe a half-naked reality TV star. “What do I have to do? Get down on my knees?”

  “That’d be nice. But first, don’t you think we should get to know each other?”

  Before she could snap back at him, he pushed her to lie back on the bed and bent his head. Oh. Wow. He kissed the side of one of her breasts, lightly, and then made his way up to the nipple, lapping at it with his tongue in some way that turned her on so much she could not believe it. She must have made some sound because he raised his head, smiling. “Do you like that, Sophia?”

  She nodded, not trusting herself to speak.

  “Why do you seem so surprised then?”

  He held her gaze when all she wanted was for him to bend his head again to her breast. “Tell me,” he urged.

  “Tell you what?”

  “Why you seem surprised that you like it when I kiss your breast.”

  “I didn’t say I was surprised.”

  “You didn’t have to.”

  “Fine. All right. Usually men grab me or bite me.”

  He laughed softly. “Well, I have to admit, that can be fun sometimes but you have to work up to it. And the working up part is just as nice.”

  Finally, he bent his head again and she sighed as his wet mouth caused the most exquisite sensations in what she had frankly usually thought of as an inconvenience when they weren’t baiting a trap. Her fingers of their own accord sunk into his silky blond hair. But they just ruffled through the strands. She didn’t pull him to her, letting him set the pace, her eyes closed. Obviously, this man knew what he was doing.

  And she didn’t give a crap about some safe right now.

  God, she was a funny little thing. Sassy and bold, practically inviting herself into his bed, and then so sweet and shy when she got in it. And her body was…incredible. Just as he’d said. Her naked breasts were like nothing he’d ever seen, so lush and full and hot, that it was no wonder that men usually couldn’t restrain themselves with her.

  But nobody had ever taught her the pleasure she could get as well as give? Now that was surprising. Even though his cock was pounding, and had been well before her hands went to the tie on her halter, he would pleasure these breasts for hours if he could, even if she wanted no more than that. He placed his palm carefully over the breast he wasn’t licking, flicking the nipple with his thumb, and she groaned, spreading her legs under the skirt of her dress. It appeared she wanted more than that.

  That was good too.

  Leaning up to kiss her mouth while his other hand wandered down, carefully, he caressed the inside of one soft thigh and then moved north.

  Under his kiss, he could feel a murmur of protest and he lifted his head before he had gotten to the promised land.

  “What?” he whispered down into her flushed face.

  “I don’t…I mean I think we should slow down.”

  “You do?”

  “No.” And she yanked his head back down to her and opened her thighs wider for his hand. When he slipped beneath the edge of her silken underwear and over her light curls, she groaned under his kiss, but he didn’t stop this time. He moved his fingers down to her pussy, knowing he would find it wet, but exultant that he did. Rubbing her clit lightly with her own moisture for a moment, he raised his head. “You okay?”

  She nodded, her eyes sti
ll closed and those incredible breasts beckoned him. Still fingering her, he kissed the nipple of the breast he hadn’t properly tended to yet and she was so wet he felt confident in kissing it a little harder. She bucked under him and he tongued her for a moment and then sucked, still moving his fingers carefully against a now very wet pussy.

  She froze, but he didn’t withdraw his fingers, just keeping still, and then raising his head to whisper, “Too much?”

  She shook her head no, not opening her eyes, and he continued massaging her clit, intending to thrust a finger or two firmly up her cunt in a moment. She bucked as he set the rhythm her body was telling him she wanted.

  “Do you like that?” he asked, watching her expression—not because he didn’t know but because he wanted to hear her say it.

  She nodded.

  He laughed, bending to her breasts again. “Not much of a talker in bed, are you, Sophia?” he murmured. When he set his mouth to her breasts this time, his cock was complaining loudly, asking to get in on the action. The feel of her nipple against his tongue as he lapped at her prompted him to thrust his still-trouser-encased cock so hard against her hip, she’d probably have a bruise tomorrow.

  Christ, he wanted to get inside her so badly.

  But first, he wanted to get her off. To see those long lashes flutter open finally as she came.

  Then he’d rip the fucking dress off her and get down to business.

  With the movement of his fingers and her own moisture accommodating it, he bit her rosy wet nipple lightly.

  “Oh, my God.” She shuddered, coming strongly against his fingers. To his disappointment, when he lifted his head to watch her face as she climaxed, her eyes stayed closed. And he hadn’t even gotten a chance to get inside her yet, even with his fingers, which were still rubbing her engorged clit.

  As she calmed, his touch became more and more gentle, and then withdrew. He needed his hands free to open his pants.

  Only then did she open those wide blue-green eyes.

  “I should go,” she said immediately.

  Not that he was expecting kudos or anything, but that wasn’t exactly the feedback he’d anticipated. “Go? Now? Why?”