After Hours

by Jodi Lynn Copeland

  after hours

  after hours

  jodi lynn copeland

  APHRODISIA BOOKS

  www.kensingtonbooks.com

  CONTENTS

  Night Moves

  Night Secrets

  Night Illusions

  Night Moves

  1

  T here was something to be said about the way a woman danced. Between her body-hugging, short red dress and the arousing way she twisted her sleek curves, the woman who currently held Brendan Jordan’s attention seemed to be saying “do me” loud enough to be heard halfway across the hotel reception hall.

  He glanced over at Mike Donovan, his one-time college roommate and the newest victim of matrimony, then nodded toward the blonde.

  From his seat next to Brendan at the head table, Mike followed Brendan’s gaze. His grin turned from one of newly married idiocy to that of male understanding. “Pretty incredible, isn’t she?” he asked loudly, to be heard over the blaring music.

  Drool-worthy was a more suitable way to describe her. Only, Brendan didn’t drool over women. If anything, the situation was reversed. They gave him the hot, hungry, fuck-me looks that made it clear what they wanted even before they approached. And, if they were lucky, he gave it to them.

  The blonde wasn’t drooling over him. Judging by the dreamy expression that tugged her slightly too wide mouth into one of the sexier smiles he’d seen, she wasn’t even aware there were other people in the room.

  Brendan was aware, however. Aware of how damned long he’d been sitting there ogling her. Looking away, he took a long pull from his beer. He set the bottle back on the table before nonchalantly asking, “So, who is she?”

  Mike’s eyebrows rose. “You haven’t met Jilly?”

  “That’s her name?” Brendan gave the woman an assessing look. Jilly didn’t sound right. With breasts plump enough to fill his hands and a curvy ass that had the bulk of his blood firing straight to his dick, she deserved a far more sensual name.

  “I’d just assumed with your new jo—”

  Brendan glanced back at Mike. “My what?”

  Mike’s gaze clouded over. After a few seconds, his grin returned—a little too deviously, in Brendan’s mind. Mike used to grin like that back in college, just before he pulled the kind of shit that ended up getting both of them in trouble.

  “Never mind what I was about to say.” Mike pushed his chair back from the table. “Let me do the honors of introducing you.”

  Brendan pushed back his own chair and stood. The blonde might not be eyeing him over the way he felt various other women doing, but that didn’t mean he needed Mike’s help in getting her to talk to him. There was a reason he’d earned the title of “The Midwest’s Most Eligible Bachelor” from People magazine. That reason wasn’t due to shyness around women, knockouts or otherwise. It was because of his money and heritage and, more than that, his business savvy. He’d opted to take a break from the financial aspects of business and try his hand at the advertising end of things less than two years ago. Already he was rising up the corporate ladder with relative ease.

  “Thanks for the offer,” he said to Mike, “but I can handle things from here.”

  “Sure thing. Just let me know when you need help.”

  Brendan laughed at the absurdity of the statement. They might share a passion, and even wisdom, for success, but they sure as hell didn’t for females. Mike’s knowledge of women could fit into a thimble. If it hadn’t been for Brendan literally pushing him in his new wife’s direction, the man would still be single.

  Single, free and happy.

  Guilt edged through Brendan, quickly fading when he noted the nauseatingly doting smile Mike shot his bride’s way. Nothing to feel guilty about there, just as there was nothing to be learned. “The day I need help with women from you, Donovan, is the day I’ll have truly sunk to an all-new low.”

  Mike glanced back at him, humor lighting his eyes. “Hey, whatever you say, man. Just remember you said that come Monday.”

  What was Monday? The day he started in on his latest career venture with the high-power, Atlanta-based advertising firm Neilson & Sons, but what did that have to do with the she-devil working her magic on the dance floor?

  Whatever it was, it wasn’t important enough to stay in his mind and, therefore, not important enough to worry over.

  With a last look at Mike, whose attention was again on his wife, Brendan started across the room. He stopped on the edge of the light-brightened dance floor where a mass of females and a handful of males worked their bodies in a number of interesting moves. None quite so interesting as Jilly’s, however.

  Her profile was to Brendan, but he could still make out far more than he’d been able to back at the table. Honey-blond hair framed an expressive face and hung midway down her back in loose waves. Full breasts pressed against the snug bodice of her short, sequined dress as her nicely rounded ass swayed seductively in time with the music. Black high-heels streamlined long, slender legs encased in sheer stockings. While her eyes were closed, the sultry look on her face said plenty.

  So did the arousal in his tuxedo pants that turned his cock from slightly hard with simple interest to rock-solid and throbbing.

  There was something about her. Something he needed to discover before this night was over, or, at the very least, something he needed to uncover by way of removing the layers of silk, sequins and nylon that hid the lush body beneath.

  Not about to stand by and wait for her to open her eyes, Brendan moved onto the dance floor and through a sea of thriving bodies to the one he ached to touch.

  Jillian Lowery’s pulse went from a happily fast beat to all-out chaos in two seconds flat. A hand settled over her belly—a hand that she didn’t need to look down at to know was large and masculine. If the sudden throbbing between her thighs that came with the hot breath caressing her neck and the languorous movements against her backside were any sign, the owner of that hand knew exactly what he was doing.

  She should stop his highly suggestive and far too intimate moves, whoever he was. Any other day she would. Today wasn’t a normal day. Today was the first time in a very long while that she wasn’t surrounded by colleagues and clients alike who’d come to respect her cool, professional demeanor. Today the subdued wilder side of Jillian had a chance to come out and play. After today, that Jillian would have to go back into hiding until some unknown time in the future.

  She should stop him, but she wasn’t going to. Not yet anyway.

  Summoning nerves she’d forgotten she possessed, Jillian covered the stranger’s hand with her own and ground her bottom against her dance partner’s groin. The hand tightened at her waist and a low growl drifted to her ears. The animalistic sound would have been enough to bring too-long-denied hunger swelling to life. The length of an erection pressed against her buttocks was more than enough. Wetness gathered in her panties and her pulse threatened to beat out of control.

  The hand beneath hers slid lower, down the sequined silk of her dress, and his palm turned and molded itself to the slight curve of her mound. The breath snagged in her throat. Perspiration gathered on her flushed skin. Her hips reacted out of instinct, grinding against that hot, weighty touch.

  Restlessness screamed through Jillian, further moistening her panties with the juices of arousal, making her want in a way she hadn’t experienced in years. Maybe ever.

  Need egged her on, shut out all thoughts of their surroundings, of the flashing lights and thundering music. Jillian tightened her hold on his hand, urging it to press harder, silently begging him to go farther. To push her dress aside and sink his fingers deep into her aching pussy, thrusting them in and out until she cruised past the limits of ecstasy and there could be no stopping her mindle
ss screams of release.

  He pressed the slightest bit harder. Her clit throbbed. She mewled deep in her throat. “Oh, yes. God, please…”

  She wanted so badly.

  Wanted to forget about being the consummate businesswoman. Wanted to let go and be the fun-loving, carefree woman she’d left behind four years ago. Wanted to experience satisfaction once this decade that didn’t have anything to do with landing another prestigious client en route to obtaining her dream job.

  “I’d love to please you, Jilly, but we’re on a dance floor, sweetheart. As crowded as it is, the song’s going to end soon and everyone’s going to see where my hand’s at.”

  The thickly spoken words drifted to her ears, reflecting appetite as well as humor. Jillian heard both, but it was the truth that pulled her from the sensual haze, the truth of how much she’d allowed herself to forget the mistakes of the past and let herself go. Panic assailed her, tightening her limbs and tamping back the raw desire coiled to life in her belly and burning like a wildfire of need deep in her core. Her grinding moves came to an abrupt halt as judgment returned to taunt her.

  Oh, God, what the hell had she been thinking?

  She had to stop this. Had to explain that she’d allowed the music to carry her away and act completely shameless with a man she had yet to set eyes on.

  But how?

  And did she honestly want to?

  Anxiety ate at her, but so did the scintillating thrill of doing the kind of daring thing she hadn’t done in years. The kind of thing she would never do with or around those who knew her as Jillian the Professional.

  The magical hand that had spun warmth and wetness in her with barely more than a touch lifted away. The discontented whimper that broke from her lips answered her earlier question. She didn’t want to end this. Only, judging by the fact that her dance partner had let her go, he did.

  Dejection filled her for one gloomy second, and then he caught her hand in his and twirled her. She landed awkwardly against a wide, hard chest and swallowed back a breath of mixed shock and elation. He wasn’t dismissing her, just changing course as the music dictated.

  The flashing overhead lights gave way to the soft glow of candles arranged throughout the reception hall. A slow melody drifted from the front of the room, a mesmerizing song that had nothing on the gripping heat in the stranger’s eyes.

  They were dark—maybe brown or deep blue; Jillian couldn’t tell in the dim lighting. She could tell other things, like his build. He had a good six inches on her five-foot-seven frame, and, if the feel of his body against hers was any sign, he was both muscular and lean. Thick, dark hair framed an angular face that sported a touch of five-o’clock shadow. Full lips hovered over hers as if they might advance at any moment.

  Her mind cleared with that last thought and a fresh dose of heat coursed through her. He was yummy, but he was also vaguely familiar. From the wedding party, yes, but for some other reason. Some reason she prayed had nothing to do with business.

  “You’re a friend of Mike’s?” she asked.

  He twined her arms around his neck, then placed his own at her waist as they fell into a slow dance. A lazy smile tugged at his lips. “From college, yes.”

  He was educated, whoever he was. Not that education mattered for what she wanted to do with him, but…

  What she wanted to do with him? What did she want to do? Okay, have a night of wild and kinky sex—that much was a given, from the shockingly hard points of her nipples to the cream that seeped between her thighs—but did she dare? Not without a little more information.

  Jillian didn’t want to know him well, just as she didn’t want him to know her well. Too much information could lead to potential future problems. A few details were important, though. For starters, if he was married.

  But, no, he wasn’t married. Mike might only know Jillian through his new wife, Molly, but he still wouldn’t allow a married man to come on to her. “What would Mike say if I asked about you?”

  The stranger’s smile kicked higher. His fingers began a rhythm at her waist that was both featherlight and amazingly distracting. “That I love a good challenge and know how to leave a woman with a smile.”

  The cockiness of the answer probably should have made her have second thoughts. Instead, she laughed and smiled back. God, how she missed bantering for the hell of it. “So, you’re a womanizer?”

  “Is that what it sounded like?”

  “Is that how it is?”

  Seconds ticked by, and Jillion anxiously waited for his response. It came in actions instead of words. His fingers moved higher, along her thinly clothed sides, to graze the outer swell of her breasts. He applied the slightest bit of pressure and her nipples pulsed for his touch.

  That dangerously sexy mouth of his curved once more. His eyes showed amusement that ensured he knew the effect he was having on her. It was tempting to turn away and reject him and the arrogance he gave off as far as his sexual appeal was concerned. She might have, too, if at that moment his thumb didn’t reach out to stroke the underside of her breast, the pad moving in a leisurely circle that had every one of her nerves at attention.

  She bit back a sigh that he would move inward, closer to her straining nipple. There was no need to sigh, no need to beg. She could feel his swollen cock cradled against her belly. He wanted her. All she had to do was say she wanted him, too, and they would be out of there and in some place far more private.

  Heat speared through her with the thought of how quickly they could be away from there, their clothes stripped away, limbs tangled, naked and sweaty. Those strong, very capable-looking lips of his on hers, his tongue stroking her flesh with damp, lazy licks. The hot, hard length of his shaft pushing between her thighs and deep into her sheath.

  Oh, yes, she wanted that. Wanted to let go and just feel.

  If only the circumstances were right….

  Jillian struggled to mask her eagerness. That he knew Mike didn’t bother her. Once they returned from their honeymoon, Mike and Molly would be moving halfway across the country. The only things that mattered here were that she wouldn’t be seeing or hearing from this man after tonight and that her actions with him couldn’t return to harm her. “Where are you from?”

  The slow movement of his thumb along the underside of her breast paused, starting again with his reply. “Chicago.”

  Anticipation jetted through her, pushing her building desire to new heights. He wasn’t from around here, and the more she looked at him, the more certain she was they’d never met. Those two factors combined were an even greater stimulant than his potent grin. They meant the circumstances were right. And that meant she was going to have the one thing she’d craved these last four years even more than the loud, slightly tacky outfits that used to make up her wardrobe.

  She was going to have no-holds-barred, kill the composure and give into the thrill sex. Hallelujah!

  “What about a name?”

  She didn’t bother to mask her eagerness and he clearly took note. His penis jerked against her belly and his expression became one of urgency. “Brendan,” he said, the calm tone belying his hot look.

  “Just Brendan?”

  “That would all depend. Is it just Jilly?”

  Jillian managed to stop herself from correcting his usage of her childhood name. It was immature and completely removed from the capable, commanding woman she’d transformed herself into. But, for tonight, it was perfect.

  Smiling, she moved her hands from his neck to coast over his sides. She thanked the glasses of wine she’d had with dinner, and moved her hands lower still. Her fingers reached his tuxedo pants and, through the thin material of his dress shirt, she caressed the virile flesh just above his waist.

  His breath rushed in and his cock jerked once again.

  Her smile growing with the distinctly female power that assailed her, she brought her lips to his ear. The spicy tang of aftershave and something far more intoxicating filled her senses as she whispered,
“Just Jilly, and so you don’t have to waste your time asking, the answer is yes.”

  For a second or two when Jilly had swiveled around and stared up into his eyes, her own filled with desire as much as what appeared to be hesitancy, Brendan had thought he’d made a mistake—that she wasn’t the hot-blooded vixen her invigorating dance moves, and the bold way she’d ground her mound against his hand in a room full of people, seemed to indicate. Then her cautious look had faded and she’d snaked her palms down his chest and breathed one very warm and willing yes into his ear.

  Coincidentally, it was the same word leaving her lips now, as they stood twined together inside his hotel suite’s doorway. They hadn’t made it any farther.

  He leaned into the softness of her body and ran his tongue over the spot on her neck where her pulse beat erratically. Her hands buried in his hair, short nails biting with just enough pressure to have the blood screaming to life in his veins.

  Jilly squirmed, and the hard ridge of her pubic bone brushed over his rigid shaft. Shuddering with the need the simple caress brought forth, he turned his teasing licks to fervent nips.

  She shivered in his arms and tossed her head back. “Oh, yes. Yes. Yes!”

  Brendan stopped his nibbling to grin at that last ecstatic one. If she made this much noise when all they’d manage to accomplish so far was a little necking, what would she be like when they got around to the main event? Not that he was complaining. He happened to be a big fan of a woman who wasn’t afraid to let her love for sex show.

  She lifted her head and met his gaze. Her hands moved to cup his ass. She tugged him closer yet and rotated her pelvis against his. “I want you, Brendan. I want you now. Right now!”

  Had he actually thought her the cautious type for a second or two back downstairs? Fuck, no, nothing cautious about this one. She was all fire and impatience. And sex, he added with a short laugh he let flow into his words. “Now? No patience, sweetheart? No buildup? Just get to it?”