“Do you want something to eat?” she asked, tilting her face up to his. “Maybe some dessert?”
“Dessert is the last thing on my mind, Wren.”
“Then what is on your mind?”
Tomorrow was going to be a shit show. When Sean called Logan, he could lose his job. At the very least he’d be in Logan’s bad books, and that was not a place anyone wanted to be.
Screw it. He’d already fucked things up royally; he may as well enjoy tonight before it all came crashing down.
“You,” he said, leaning down to brush his lips against hers. “Just you.”
13
WREN SIGHED AS he peppered kisses along her jaw. His breath was heavier now, his muscular arms tightening around her. Only they didn’t feel restricting, they felt like her safe place. They felt like protection. Instinct took over and she leaned forward, her tongue brushing the skin on his neck. When she drew back and looked up at him, her heart was in her mouth.
The buckle of his belt and the hard length of his erection dug into her belly. His mouth found hers, hot and desperate and open. His hands thrust up into her hair and he tilted her head back, kissing her deeply. Entirely. The world tilted around them.
“I want you, Wren, and I can’t seem to stop wanting you.”
He was torn; she could hear it in his voice. He was a good man, a principled man, and she’d come along and dragged him into her craziness. But she couldn’t stay away from him, either. “Please,” she breathed. “Don’t stop.”
Suddenly her back was against the wall, though she’d scarcely been aware of moving. He hoisted her skirt up, bunching the fabric at her waist with one hand, and wrenched her leg over his hip. The fly of his pants rubbed at her aching sex. She wished she’d gone commando; there was too much of a barrier between them.
His mouth was at her neck, lips sucking and tongue flicking and teeth scraping. He kissed along her jaw and found her mouth again. The faint stubble on his face lightly scratched her cheek and she knew tomorrow there would be subtle marks all over her. Marks that would make her body burn with the memory of tonight.
His hand found the hem of her top and slipped underneath it, palming her breast so slowly she thought she might explode with desperation. She reached for his belt buckle and struggled to loosen it.
“Is this a security belt?” she panted, gasping as his deft fingers found her nipple through the thin lace of her bra. Mercifully, his belt gave way.
His throaty laugh rolled over her skin, sending a shiver down her spine. “Got to protect the goods.”
“You’re always so cautious,” she teased. “So careful.”
“I don’t want to be careful now.” He paused his assault on her senses and rested his forehead against her. Her hand stilled at his waist.
“Why?”
His eyes were endless and deep, the warm brown gaze almost turning her to liquid on the spot. That stare could do a lot of damage; it could make her trust again. Make her feel like maybe it was okay to be her crazy, impulsive self.
“Because I know this is wrong. I should be trying to think about how I’m going to save my job...” His hands cupped her face, the pads of his thumbs brushing her cheekbones. “But I don’t care.”
“You should care.” She closed her eyes. “Your job is important.”
“Yes, it is. But nothing I do tonight will change the course of what’s going to happen.” His lips pressed to hers. “And right now all I want is to hold you and be as deep inside you as I can.”
The words made her whole body tense in anticipation. “I want that, too.”
Without warning, he picked her up and carried her to her bedroom. She locked her mouth over his, the force of her kiss almost bringing them both to the ground as they walked into the dark room. Her hand groped for the light, but he was moving too fast.
“You really need a bed frame,” he groaned as he knelt down, still cradling her in his arms. She felt his muscles flex as he moved, the sheer strength of him stoking the fire inside her.
“At least mattresses don’t squeak.”
As he laid her down, their legs tangled. Without light all she could do was feel. Already her hands seemed to know his body, seemed to understand how to touch him.
She found the bulge of his cock trapped behind wool trousers and she cupped him. Even with the barrier, heat radiated from him. She used her other hand to bring his head down to hers. The easy slide of his tongue between her lips was almost enough to make her come on the spot.
Her fingers found his zipper and she drew it down, her mind focused on nothing but getting the hard length of him in her greedy grasp. Twisting so she could get her hands down the front of his boxer briefs, she drew him out.
“That’s what I want,” she whispered. He was hard as rock, pulsing and sensitive.
He swore under his breath as she thumbed the head of him, spreading a drop of precum around.
“Christ,” he hissed. “You’d better slow that down.”
She squeezed. “Or what?”
His lips were at her ear, his breath hot on her skin. “Or I’ll have to flip you over right now and make sure I at least get inside you before I come.”
An involuntary whimper escaped her. “That sounds pretty good to me.”
Her eyes were slowly adjusting to the dark, and the outline of him had formed against the city lights filtering in through her blinds. The streetlights winked. Between the darkness and the reassuring weight of him pressing her into the mattress, she didn’t want to move. Ever.
This was it, she realized. This was what it was like to feel loved. To feel protected and cherished. To feel wanted.
Even after all she’d done, he’d been there when she needed him.
Her chest clenched as the thought replayed over and over in her head, like a needle catching on a scratched record.
She resisted the idea—this wasn’t love. It was lust, mutual attraction. Affection, perhaps, but not love.
You get that out of your head right now.
Refocusing, she worked her hand up and down Rhys’s cock. His moans urged her on. The way he thrust his hips forward to meet her momentum should be enough for her. His body should be enough.
He’s a great guy, but he only did what he felt was right. It’s about his morals, not about you.
Then why did she want more from him?
“Stop it,” he growled and she jumped, her mind automatically connecting his words with her thoughts before she realized that he couldn’t know what she was thinking. “You’re too damn good at that.”
He brushed her hand aside and crawled down her body. His hands were on her legs, shoving the fabric of her skirt up her thighs, his lips blazing a trail from her knee to her hip. Not a second was wasted; this wasn’t about teasing or about drawing out the inevitable.
He was impatient and she loved it.
“You need to stop wearing panties,” he said as he yanked at the waistband of her underwear.
“Yes, sir.” She lifted her hips and he undressed her roughly, without finesse.
But then his mouth pressed against her sex and all the tension in her body evaporated. His full lips worked her like he’d studied her for years. As if he knew the exact pressure, the exact speed with which to propel her into nirvana.
“God, Rhys.” She reached for his head.
The steady flick of his tongue over her clit was maddening. A tremor started in her thighs as she fought to hang on, fought to make it last more than a few seconds. But he was too good for that, and soon she was flying over the edge, her hips rocking against his face while she took everything he offered her.
He had crawled up beside her before she’d even realized that he’d moved. “I love the sound you make when I’m between your legs.”
“I m
ake a sound?” She honestly could have been doing the Macarena for all she knew. When he touched her, her mind became a blank slate.
“It’s like a kitten trying to growl.” He was already undressing her, tugging her tank top over her head. “Sexy and sweet.”
“I’m glad you enjoy it.”
“I could listen to that sound all day.”
She pushed her skirt down and wriggled until she was able to kick it off into the dark room. “I wish I could let you be down there all day, but I don’t think my body could handle it.”
“I’m game if you are.” The sound of fabric rustling cut through the quiet, and soon he was naked and on top of her.
The hairs on his legs brushed her sensitive skin as he nudged his thigh between hers. Her teeth clamped down onto her lower lip as he guided her hand back to him.
“Oh, so now you want it,” she teased, relishing the weight of him in her palm.
“I want it like nothing else.” He shifted, easing her legs apart. “I want you wrapped around me, Wren. I want to feel how tight you are.”
She fumbled around for the condoms she’d finally remembered to pick up from the store. Her fingers brushed the foil packets and she handed one over to him. The sound of foil tearing sent pleasure rushing through her like a drug.
It made everything slow down and speed up at the same time. Lolling her head against the mattress, she waited as he sheathed himself. It was sweet torture. A second later, the fat head of his cock pressed at her entrance. They hovered there, feeding off each other’s anticipation. Then he plunged into her.
As he moved inside her, she wrapped her legs around him and clung to him. His face pressed against her neck and she cupped his head, holding him to her as though it were the end.
It most likely was. In the morning he would realize he’d made a mistake, and soon she would be going home. Blinking back tears, she pressed her lips to his cheek, urging him on with soft whispers.
With a final thrust, his whole body shook. There was no air between them; there was nothing that would force them apart. Except tomorrow.
* * *
RHYS PACED UP and down in front of Logan’s office. He hadn’t even made it into the Cobalt & Dane headquarters before he’d been summoned with a terse email. This was it. All his hard work fighting to get people to believe in him, to believe in his talents, would be over.
Never before had he felt so conflicted. He was angry—at himself rather than at Wren. How could he have not suspected her? Was a pretty face all it took to throw him off his game?
But that was the problem, Wren wasn’t just a pretty face, and that was exactly why he’d wanted to get close to her. She was inspiring, refreshing. She made his blood pump harder. Her spontaneity called to him, which was odd. It should have bothered him how she never planned anything or how she never spent time worrying about sensible things like buying a bed frame or throwing her underwear into a clothes hamper. She probably didn’t even own a clothes hamper.
It certainly bothered him that she’d put herself into a potentially dangerous situation for something that wasn’t her problem.
Yet he was breaking the rules for her. Something that went totally against his nature.
It’s because you know she’s right. Sean Ainslie has proved what he’ll do to get his own way, and you have a responsibility to make sure you listen to the facts.
But the fact was, Wren had done the wrong thing by trying to dig into Sean’s business. Still, he could rationalize his decision to keep quiet because she hadn’t stolen anything and her attempt to access Sean’s storage room had failed. Therefore, her indiscretions were minor. He just had to make sure they stayed that way.
You’d better hope to hell she took your advice to steer clear of the gallery.
He shook his head. If he’d been able to take the day off to make sure she didn’t leave her apartment, he would have.
He pushed down the worry and tried to prepare himself for the beat down he was about to get. For a brief second he’d toyed with the idea of lying, but he’d dismissed it just as quickly. Tough but fair, that was his motto. And he hadn’t gotten that way by being dishonest.
“He’ll see you now,” Logan’s assistant said.
Rhys pushed open the door and walked in with his head held high. Sure, he’d made a mistake but he was still the same person, still the same guy who prided himself on following the rules and doing the right thing.
“What the fuck went down last night?” Logan raked a hand through his longish hair. “Sean Ainslie called me at the ass crack of dawn to say that you physically threatened him.”
“Did he tell you that I threatened him after he attacked one of his staff members?” Rhys braced his hands on the back of a chair facing Logan’s desk.
The room was bright and airy, thanks to a window that overlooked Manhattan. Yet no amount of sunlight could make this room feel warm and inviting. Logan had an air of authority that chilled even the warmest space.
“He said that he’d gone to meet one of his employees to talk about a work issue and that you barged into her apartment and threatened to break his hands.” Logan shook his head. “For starters, what were you doing at her apartment after-hours?”
“She lives in the same building as I do—her apartment is the one across the hall from mine. I heard yelling.”
“So you know this woman...?” He looked down at his notes. “Wren Livingston.”
“She was new to my building. We’d met a few times in passing before we started investigating Ainslie’s complaint.” He left out the bit where she’d showed him her erotic paintings. “But I didn’t know she worked for Ainslie until the day that Quinn and I went to the gallery.”
“Did you make a note of it in your report?”
“No.”
His brows furrowed. “Why not?”
“I didn’t think she was involved.”
“You mean to tell me that you immediately ruled out the employee of a client with a security breach even though the signs pointed to it being an inside job?” Logan rubbed a hand over his face and exhaled. “Why would you do that?”
“She didn’t appear to have any motive.”
“And you determined that how?”
This was where things got messy, because he’d determined it based on gut instinct, which wouldn’t fly with Logan. Hell, if one of Rhys’s employees had come to him with the same story, it wouldn’t have flown with him, either.
“She didn’t appear to have the skills to break into Ainslie’s account.”
“Because lurking in someone else’s email requires a lot of technical skill, does it?” Logan held up a hand. “That’s bullshit and you know it. I want you to be straight with me, Glover. Because I can tell something is going on here and I will not be kept in the dark.”
Rhys drew in a long, deep breath. “Quinn and I came across information that indicated Sean Ainslie was assaulting his employees. Wren Livingston was able to corroborate this information for us, and then, last night, I saw it for myself. He came to her apartment and physically assaulted her. If I hadn’t overheard them fighting, she’d be in much worse shape than she is currently.”
“How did evidence of assault come up in the course of a routine security monitoring job?” Logan dropped down into his seat, his expression guarded but his tone no longer filled with ice.
Rhys ran Logan through everything they’d found—from the digging Quinn had done into Ainslie’s ex-employees to the conversations between Wren and Aimee.
“But,” Rhys continued, “what tipped us off first was that he had a monitored security service for the building and some heavy-duty protection on his storage room, but no cameras.”
“According to his file, we installed the alarm system for the building about eight years ago.” Logan leaned forward and look
ed at his laptop screen. “The security room was done five years ago. Since then we’ve only had the odd incident response call and two site visits for equipment maintenance. Nothing in here about security cameras.”
“Don’t you think it’s odd to go to all that trouble with the outside of the building and for one room, but not to put cameras inside the place?”
“That is unusual,” Logan said with a slow nod of his head. “But it’s not our job to investigate our clients. They hire us for a purpose and we fulfill that purpose. This is a service job, Rhys. We’re not the FBI.”
“Is Ainslie still a client?”
Logan sighed. “I told him to take a few days to calm down and that I’d talk to you about what happened last night. In the meantime, I have promised him that you won’t be going anywhere near him or Ainslie Ave.”
“So you don’t think we should intervene if people are being hurt?”
“I didn’t say that.” He motioned for Rhys to take a seat. That was Logan’s way of saying that he was willing to listen. “But I need you to be honest with me. Are you emotionally invested in this girl?”
The question came out of nowhere. Rhys had been prepared to be asked if he was sleeping with Wren, if he felt she’d used sex to manipulate him. If he understood that getting physical with the employee of a client was wrong.
But not this.
“Answer the question, Glover.”
It had started out physical. It was still physical. But last night had taken things to a whole new level, an emotional level. He’d slept with his arms around her, fearful that something might happen if he let her go. Even if that meant spending the night on her shitty mattress on the ground and waking up feeling like his spine had been turned into a pretzel.
It wasn’t just that he was worried for her safety... He didn’t want her to go home to Idaho. Realization ebbed through him like a drug. This wasn’t just about seeing where things might go. He knew where they would go; he knew they would work together.
They would be happy.
“Yes,” he said, the word making him feel relieved and yet more burdened. “I’m emotionally invested.”
A Dangerously Sexy Secret Page 15
