“What did you want to talk about?” She hoped she didn’t sound as nervous as she felt.
“This is difficult.” He pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose, searching for words. “Bruno stopped in to see me.”
Instant irritation shot through her that her foreman would go over her head, directly to her father. She sat up straighter. “Is there a problem at the St. James I’m not aware of? Why wouldn’t he come to me first?”
“He didn’t feel comfortable discussing it with you. Hell. Neither do I.” He stood and began pacing. “Apparently, there’s been talk at the site about a bet.”
“A bet? What’s so earth shattering about that?”
“Ivy, the bet was about you.”
It couldn’t be. Oh, God. She shook her head, ready to deny it, needing to deny what she feared he was about to say. “No. It couldn’t have been. What kind of bet?”
“The bet was about how quickly Jake Shaw could… I don’t want to have to say it.” He ran a hand through his graying hair. “Damn it, Ivy. This is as embarrassing as it is infuriating. You know how I feel about mixing business with your personal life.”
Her stomach bottomed out. How could he? Had everything been a lie? She couldn’t face her father, so she kept her eyes trained on her coffee cup. The bastard. How dare he brag about the passion they’d shared? It was mortifying.
She swallowed, head lowered. “I’m sorry, Dad. I didn’t think it would get out of hand.”
“Well it has.” He cleared his throat. “Do you want me to handle it?”
“No.” That would be even worse. Besides, she knew in her heart that she had to face Jake herself. He owed her some answers.
* * * * *
Ivy pulled up to the office trailer on the St. James Hotel site in a haze of angry dust. This time, she wasn’t lost. She knew exactly where she was headed and who she was looking for. Jake Shaw was sitting behind the same desk they’d made love on weeks before, looking just as impossibly sexy as always. He gave her a come-to-bed-with-me smile when he caught site of her. Until she slammed the door so hard it almost broke off its hinges.
“Something wrong, sweetheart?” His tone was wry, his eyebrow quirked in question.
Anger roiled through her, so potent her hands shook as she crossed her arms over her breasts. “You tell me, sweetheart. It’s not every day I learn from my own father that the man I’m sleeping with is using me to win some stupid bet.”
“Son of a bitch.” He swiped a hand over his face and rose to his feet.
“My thought exactly.”
“Ivy, calm down.”
“Was there a bet?” she demanded.
“Ivy.”
“Tell me!” The expression he wore said enough. “How much did you win for fucking me? Fifty dollars? A hundred?”
He strode across the trailer, reaching for her. “It wasn’t like that. Just hear me out.”
She shrugged his hands off. There had been a bet, and obviously he’d cashed in or he wouldn’t be acting so damn guilty. She wanted to hate him for it, but deep inside, all she felt was drained. Hollow. “Whatever it was, I hope it was worth it. Because I wouldn’t touch you again if you begged.”
Then she turned around and walked out.
* * * * *
That night, Ivy headed home with a bag full of pity supplies—three bottles of wine, mocha fudge ice cream, whipped cream, candy bars and corn dogs. Not exactly a dieter’s delight, but she didn’t care how many bonus calories she racked up. What she needed most was to forget the black-haired bad boy who had turned her world upside down with his wicked hands and mouth only to let her plunge headfirst back into the real world. No doubt about it. The real world sucked. She wouldn’t have minded hanging just a little bit longer before he shattered her illusions.
As furious and hurt as she was, she had to admit that she would miss him. Not just the life-altering sex—but that was reason enough on its own—she would miss his company. He had a wry sense of humor and a quick wit that perfectly matched hers. He was hard working, intelligent, down to earth…everything she could have asked for in a man. But not trustworthy. Not with her heart, it would seem, or with her body.
Just as she started in on her self-indulgent pity fest, her phone started ringing. Her landline went to the answering machine five times in a row, the first Jake, the following hang ups, all presumably Jake as well. Too late. She dug into her grocery bag with gusto and flipped on the television, determined to put him out of her mind.
An hour later, her cell rang mid-spoonful of chocolate ice cream. Jake again. She hit the end-call button and powered off the phone. There. No more interruptions. She wasn’t interested in hearing his apologies. Didn’t want to give him a second chance. How could he explain away a bet to get her in his bed? There was no excuse good enough. No cause that would sway her opinion of him—the best lay she’d ever had but a coldhearted bastard. A great sex life was one thing, sleeping with a man who was only using her as another woman he’d gotten to say yes was something else entirely. She didn’t play that game, didn’t need to.
After finishing her ice cream, she moved on to the wine, which she considered appropriate in the general food chain of life. Some time passed—she wasn’t certain how much, watching a women’s channel movie about a crazy ex-girlfriend with an evil plot to steal back her man—and the room began to get a little fuzzy around the edges. Then she crossed the divide in breakup meltdown. She started talking to herself.
Ivy grabbed her glass of wine and gulped a few more sips down. “There’s plenty of man fish in the man sea.” That didn’t sound quite right. “There’s plenty more fish men in the sea of men.” No, not right either. Hmm. Perhaps she’d had a few too many glasses of Pinot Grigio.
A sound interrupted her inner musings. A buzzer? Her washing machine? Her oven? Ah. Her doorbell. “Go away,” she yelled, not wanting to see anyone at the moment.
“Ivy, it’s Jake. Let me in.” He hadn’t needed to identify himself—she’d recognize that velvet rough voice anywhere, damn him.
She didn’t want to see him in particular. “Go to hell!”
“Ivy, please.”
“Get lost.”
“I’ll wait out here until you let me in. All your neighbors are going to hear everything I say.”
That was cruel of him. Apparently, he knew her better than she’d thought. Because those were the exact words he needed to say in order to gain entrance. Cursing him, she rose from her comfy perch on her sofa, glass in hand.
“This better be good, Jake Shaw,” she called en route. “You’re lucky I’m even bothering to talk to your pathetic hide.”
She opened the door and there he was, gorgeous and sexy as ever. She wanted to devour him on sight. Down, girl. Remember, he betrayed you. She narrowed her eyes and pinned him with a glare. “Well? What do you want? Round two? Did you bring a video camera this time so you have evidence?”
His jaw clenched. “I’ll admit that I probably deserve that. Are you going to let me in to belittle me, or are you going to make me stand out in the hallway?”
“Belittle you?” Oh, the man had nerve. And a wicked mouth. And a dirty mind. And hands that could make her come in fifteen seconds flat. But that was not the point. “You’re the one who made a bet about me with the whole construction site and now I’m the one belittling you?”
“You didn’t give me the chance to explain.”
“I didn’t need to. Guilt was oozing from your pores.”
A half-grin kicked up the corner of his sulky mouth. “That was sweat, darling. I’m a hard worker.”
He was hard, all right. Damn and double damn. She wasn’t supposed to be thinking this way. Ivy closed her eyes for a moment and forced herself to think about puppies and kittens. Decorating Easter eggs. Something innocent. Anything to keep her mind off of That Which She Should Not Be Thinking.
Her eyes flew open and she took a sip of wine to regroup. “Why did you come here, Jake?”
&nbs
p; “Isn’t it obvious?” He held out his arms, encouraging her to inspect his mouthwatering body. Which she did, right down to the scuffed boots on his feet. “I’m here to make a fool of myself. To put myself on the line by asking you to trust me. To make a jackass out of myself by standing here in the hallway begging you to let me into your place so that your neighbors don’t think I’m just some crazy stalker.”
A smile was threatening to ruin her glare. Why did he have to be so charming in his own, offhand, rough-and-tumble way? Why did he have to know exactly what to say to make her give in to him? “Why did you do it?”
His blue eyes scorched hers. “Let me in, Ivy.”
With an exaggerated sigh, she stepped aside. “Have it your way.”
As she closed the door, she became aware of his warm, solid body close to her back. He leaned in, lips nearly grazing her ear. “If we were having it my way, you’d be up against the wall and I’d be inside you right now.”
A shiver of awareness coursed through her. She spun to face him, putting some much-needed distance between them. “And I’m supposed to happily forgive you for making a spectacle out of me and calling my integrity into question?”
He grimaced. “The bet was bullshit. It happened before I even met you, and it was a stupid joke between me and one of the guys.” He paused, raked a hand through his hair. “Look, when we heard there was a woman running the show, we had fun with it. I’m not proud of that, but I never expected what happened between us to happen. One of the guys guessed after he saw you leave the job trailer the other day, and I didn’t deny it fast enough. The next thing I knew, I was getting hit with fifty-dollar bills and half the crew was coming up to me to pat me on the back.”
That certainly put things in perspective. She felt sick. “So I’m a trophy to you.”
“No.” He strode forward and gripped her arms, pulling her against him. “Ivy, you’ve been with me these last few weeks. You know you mean more to me than that. When you stormed in today and wouldn’t even give me a chance to explain, I was mad as hell. I realized that you and I both need to learn to trust each other. And I know just the way.”
He was right, she grudgingly had to admit. Jake had never treated her as anything less than a goddess. He’d been kind, caring and an extremely sensitive lover. He had not seemed the kind of man who bedded women because he could brag about it. The explanation, even if she didn’t like it, actually made sense in a weird, man-logic sort of way.
“You know how we can get better at trusting each other?”
She wanted to kiss him so badly she ached with it. Her entire body was pulsing and thrumming at his nearness, traitor that it was. Her sex was drenched and tingling. Her gaze homed in on his sexy mouth. “What way is that?”
“I’ll show you.”
He led her to her bedroom, planting a delicious kiss on her that plumbed more than just her sensitive lips. His lean, hard body pressed against her in all the right places, rigid cock to her belly, pecs to breasts. She rose on her tiptoes and rubbed herself against him cat style. When she went for the fly on his jeans, he stopped her and leaned away.
“Not yet.”
“No?” She was almost panting, wanting him and not caring now about stupid bets or pride. She was impatient. Starving.
Jake gave her a slow, knowing grin and shook his head. “No, Ivy. Not yet. First, you have to prove that you trust me.”
“Oh?” She quirked a brow, titillated. “How am I going to do that?” And please-please-please let it involve you sliding your big cock into me until I can’t think anymore.
“First, you’re going to close your eyes.”
He was so handsome, so divinely sexy, that she wanted to lick him. So she did. She leaned into him, inhaling his spicy masculine scent, and ran her tongue over the tanned skin of his neck. “Mmm.”
“Naughty.” He cupped her face and kissed her swiftly. “But you have to play nice to get what you want. Close your eyes.”
“Fine. I can play nice with the best of them.” With a sigh, she rocked back on her heels and shut her eyes.
“Good.”
Something silky and cool slipped over her eyes and she felt him tying a knot at the back of her head. “What do you have up your sleeve?”
“I bet…” he dropped a kiss on her neck just below her ear, “that you were the kind of kid who peeked at her Christmas presents weeks before she opened them.”
His mouth moved to her ear, catching the lobe and giving it a soft tug. Blindfolded, she realized all of her senses were incredibly heightened. It was as if each touch of him on her skin was magnified a hundred times. She shivered, torn between wanting to tear the scrap of fabric away to regain control of the situation and allowing herself to trust in him, in the moment.
“How’d you know I peeked at all my presents?” she asked, trying to distract herself from the seductive torture.
“A good guess.” His tongue flicked over the shell of her ear. “You’re a control freak.”
“I like to be in charge.”
“You’re good at being the boss lady.” His voice was sincere, admiring. He kissed a path to the base of her throat. “But tonight, I want you to let me…”
“Let you?” She scarcely recognized her own voice. Her entire body was threatening to spontaneously combust. Oh yes, please.
“I want you to trust me.” His strong hands were unbuttoning her shirt. “To let me pleasure you.”
“I think that’s a no-brainer,” she murmured.
“Is it?”
She felt her shirt slipping from her shoulders, falling to the floor near her bare feet. “Isn’t it?”
“Do you trust me, Ivy?”
Did she? The truth was that if she didn’t, she wouldn’t be here with him in her bedroom, letting him undress her. This had never been about a quick, satisfying hookup for her. The fact he had come to her tonight proved that it hadn’t for him either.
“I do trust you,” she breathed as he flicked her bra away and took a nipple in his mouth.
“Good.” He caught her wrists in his grasp, drew them together and slid another cool slip of silk around both, pulling it tight.
He’d bound her, she realized. Her hands were tied together. “What are you doing to me?” The not knowing was frightening yet seductive. She liked being at his mercy, being open to every lick, abrasion, sweep of breath on her hungry flesh. But she wanted to regain control.
“Pleasuring you, sweetheart.” He sucked her other nipple into his mouth, dragging, raking his teeth over the tight bud.
“Why tie my wrists together?”
“To prove to both of us that you trust me.” He kissed the side of her breast. His fingers undid the zipper on her jeans.
“Do we need to prove it?” Good Lord, it may make her shatter into a million quivering pieces.
“Hell yes.” His large hands slid her jeans in a lengthy caress down over her hips to her knees. He kissed her flat stomach, tongued her belly button, ran his tongue to the string of elastic on her lace panties. “Step out.”
“What?” She wasn’t even certain she could understand English any more. Her entire being was homed in on the feel of his warm breath so close to her pussy.
“Step out of your jeans, sweetheart.” He yanked her panties down in one rough motion, leaving her completely naked.
“Oh.” While his fingers were grazing her ankles, pulling away the rest of her clothing, his mouth sank into her, his tongue working her swollen clit. He sucked it into his mouth, worked the underside, put his tongue inside her.
Her knees gave out and he caught her up in his arms, carrying her backward. She could hear his boots on her wooden floor. Three steps took them to her bed where he deposited her on her plush quilt. His clothed body pressed down on hers. She could feel every inch of him, from the cold snap on his jeans to the worn cotton of his shirt. He took her hands in his and raised them over her head. She felt gentle pressure, then heard the sound of another knot being tied and realiz
ed he’d tied her wrists to the bars on her wrought iron bed. She was all his now. She was, in every sense, completely at his mercy.
“Still trust me, Ivy?” Jake’s voice was a soft grumble. He trailed his fingers down over her breasts, teasing her nipples, over her stomach, her hips. He parted her thighs and she opened for him, feeling his breath warm and wet on her sex.
“Yes,” she hissed, hips bucking toward him and the promise of fulfillment.
“Say it.” He dipped a finger inside her, then pulled it out, drawing dew up over the lush folds, circling her clit.
“I trust you.” And she did, she actually did. True, he was driving her body insane with wicked teasing. But if she took a moment to catch her breath and focus on something other than Jake Shaw’s mouth on her inner thigh, she had to admit to herself that she trusted him. She wanted him in her life. On a permanent basis. There it was. “I trust you,” she said again. But she had to know. “Do you trust me?”
“With my heart.”
He said it so quietly she almost didn’t hear. Her whole body stilled, never mind that his mouth was perilously close to her. “What?”
“I think I’m falling for you, Ivy Denton.”
“Take off your jeans,” she ordered.
“Not enough time,” he muttered.
“Then unbutton them. Now.”
She heard him fumbling with his clothing, then felt the hot, hard head of his cock probing her slick entrance. Ivy arched into him, welcoming him inside her body, her life. He pulled the blindfold from her eyes so she could see his face. Their eyes met for a searing moment before his lips claimed hers in a soul-shattering kiss as he pounded into her.
It was a long time later that she lay curled up against his well-muscled chest and looked up at him with a sleepy grin. “I think I’m falling for you, Jake Shaw.”
He gave her a wicked, dirty devil’s grin. “Then take me, boss lady. I’m all yours.”
About the Author
Scarlett Scott has loved romance novels ever since she was eleven and swiped her older sister’s books to read by flashlight in her closet. Her mother caught her, but she remained undeterred. A self-described promiscuous writer, she dabbles in all sorts of genres but loves erotic romance best. She lives with her hero and their adorable but occasionally evil puppy and spends too much time lurking on her blog.
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