Catch a Mate

by Gena Showalter

  Another silence ensued. Why couldn’t he bring himself to leave her? “Why’d you choose this line of work?” he found himself asking as he settled deeper into the booth.

  A shadow played over her face. “I saw an ad and I needed a job. It…fit my personality. What about you?”

  He shrugged. “My father owns a similar agency in Manchester. My mother hated him so much—he liked to dabble with the bait himself—that she moved us to the States when I was just a boy. But I visited him once a year and began to realize it was the perfect job for me.”

  “Have you ever regretted it?” she asked softly, looking down at the table. She traced a figure eight with her fingertip. “Becoming bait, I mean?”

  He could have lied. He should lie. Strangely, he felt compelled to give her the truth. “A few times over the years I’ve questioned my decision to enter this line of work. I saw the kind of person my dad was, saw how alone he was, but I also saw the victims, the ones affected by betrayal, like my mom. I never wanted to be in their place and wanted to help them as best as I could.”

  “I feel the same,” she said, still using that soft tone.

  “Ah, a second thing we agree on.”

  Her lips twitched as she fought a smile. “What was the first thing?”

  “You know, I’ve already forgotten.” He signaled for another screwdriver. The waitress quickly delivered the desired drink, but Jillian swiped it. Her fingers brushed his, sending an electric jolt through him. “That’s mine.”

  “People with slow reflexes usually lose,” she said, then drained the tangy-sweet liquid and slammed the glass onto the table.

  His stomach clenched. There was a droplet on her lip and he wanted so badly to lick it away, to savor her flavor in his mouth. He ordered another drink, half-hoping she’d steal it, too. But she didn’t. She only watched him. As he drained the glass, his throat burning, his eyes never left her. She looked so pretty in the dim lighting, smoke wafting around her.

  As always, his body responded to her as if she were naked, in his bed, beckoning him to join her.

  “I’ll have two more,” Jillian told the waitress.

  By this time, the brunette was no longer bubbly.

  “I’ll have three,” he said.

  “Why don’t I bring you a dozen?” was the weary response. “That way, I don’t have to keep coming over here.”

  “Good idea,” he said at the same moment Jillian said, “Excellent.”

  “Think you can hold your liquor better than me?” Jillian asked him.

  “Think?” All of his gambling genes clapped happily. “Baby, I know I can drink you under the table.”

  The screwdrivers arrived and the waitress slid them onto the table one at a time. She sighed, shook her head. “If you hadn’t already planned on calling a cab when you’re done here, you should start planning now,” she said, then walked away to fill someone else’s order.

  “We’ll call a cab for sure,” Jillian said, claiming three of the glasses. Marcus did the same. She downed one; he downed two. She downed two more and he finished off another. When he slammed the empty glass on the table, she laughed.

  To Marcus, the sound of her laughter was magical. Husky and wine-rich. Her entire face lit with her amusement. He had to kiss her again, he mused, before the night was over. Had to hold her in his arms, feel her breasts straining against his chest. Hear her moans in his ears.

  Yes, his foggy mind said. Yes.

  “Technically some people would consider this a date,” she said. Already her words were slightly slurred. “Just out of curiosity, what do you think is a woman’s biggest mistake on the first date? I want to make sure I do it.”

  “Putting out,” he answered immediately. His words were a little slurred, too. “Usually I’d say not putting out, but I’m making an exception tonight.”

  She chuckled. “You’re cute, you know that?” Once she realized what she’d said, she shook her head, froze, lost her smile. She pressed her fingers into her temples. “Wrong action. Dizzy. Wrong words. Stupid.”

  “Well, I think you’re sexy as hell,” he admitted darkly.

  She blinked over at him. “You do?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes. Okay? Yes.”

  “You shouldn’t,” she admonished without heat.

  “I know,” he grumbled. “Just like you shouldn’t think I’m cute.”

  Her shoulders slumped. “I know. We should hate each other right now. You’re my enemy.”

  He shrugged and offered, “Enemies sometimes sleep together.”

  She actually thought about it for several long, protracted minutes. “If you were nice, I could…” She shook her head, frowned and closed her eyes against another wave of dizziness. “No, I can’t.”

  “I can be nice,” he rushed out. An image of the two of them in bed once again flashed through his mind. Why not? he wondered suddenly. They both knew the rules of the game. Nothing serious. No marriage. No babies. Sure, he might want those things in his weakest moments, but not with Jillian. Her, he just plain wanted. Hard and long and forever.

  No, not forever, he reminded himself sternly.

  “You can’t be nice,” she said, earnest. “I don’t believe you.”

  “Let me prove it.” Before he could stop himself, he reached out and laced their fingers together. Her skin was smooth where his was callused. “While we’re having sex, I’ll be so nice you’ll think I’m pumping you full of sugar.”

  She ran her bottom lip between her teeth. “Are you going to do the clockwise swirl with a twist?”

  His brow furrowed in confusion. “I honestly have no idea what the hell that is.” Had she done that with someone else? And why did the thought infuriate him? Make him seethe with jealousy?

  A laugh escaped her, a little nervous, a lot excited. “You really want to do this?” she whispered, a scandalized edge to the words. “Won’t it break your precious rules?”

  “I’m the boss and I say we forget the rules. They’re stupid and I’m nice.”

  For a moment, she eyed him up and down like he was her favorite candy. He’d long since lost power over his own mind, his own body, his own words. He knew this was wrong, but he didn’t care. He wanted her, had to have her. His head swam dizzily with the knowledge.

  “You’ll leave immediately afterward?” she asked.

  “Without cuddling.”

  “Promise?”

  “Promise.”

  Her lips parted with a heated breath. “Okay. Let’s go to my place.”

  Thirteen

  Let’s do breakfast tomorrow. Shall I call you or nudge you?

  This is the first intelligent thing I’ve done all week, Jillian thought the entire cab ride home.

  As predicted, neither she nor Marcus had felt sober enough to drive, so they’d called a cab from the club. That they’d had to do such a thing should have given her pause. But she couldn’t stop thinking that with this act, with sex—with Marcus—she would finally rid her body of its infatuation with the man. Finally gain some perspective where he was concerned.

  Finally be at peace. Sweet peace.

  After tonight, she could be in his presence and not desire him. She would have been there and done that, would have tasted him fully. Since it was bound to be a disappointment—surely it couldn’t be as good as her body expected it to be, nothing could—she wouldn’t have to wonder anymore. The mystery of him would be dead.

  At least, that’s what her fuzzy mind kept telling her.

  Lord, she wanted him. All evening, she’d watched him. She’d wanted to shove that blond clinger away from him, not just snap at her. The force of her jealousy had surprised her.

  Right now she craved another kiss. Craved so much more than a kiss, actually. A tremor slid down her spine, delicious, a prelude to what was to come. Get your mind off Marcus before you jump him right here. Vision fogging, she pulled her gaze to the window.

  First the scenery provi
ded a view of wide-open spaces, then lush-green trees began to whiz past, interspersed with other cars. Her head swam. Bright streetlights illuminated Marcus’s face—when had she turned her attention back to him?—followed quickly by darkness, then light, then darkness. Just behind him, stars twinkled like fresh-cut diamonds in the black silk sky.

  Jillian’s blood was on fire.

  Eager, needy, she could barely sit still, was even leaning toward him. Or was her world simply tilting? She didn’t think she’d ever wanted a man this much. Naked. Inside her. Shouting her name.

  “Wanting a kiss, Dimples?” Marcus asked, a seductive whisper.

  She shook her head, then cursed herself for the dizzying action. The nickname didn’t seem so bad just then. It almost sounded…affectionate. Playful. “No kiss. Not now. If we start, we won’t stop.”

  “That’s a bad thing?”

  Her eyes wandered to his lips, his pink, pleasure-giving lips. Deliciously bad…and delicious was dangerous. The night had to be a disappointment. “Are you into anything kinky?” When she realized she was talking loud enough for the cabbie to hear—the man was grinning at them in the rearview mirror—she leaned into Marcus and whispered the same question in his ear. For some reason, the words emerged just as loudly.

  He licked his lips. “I guess you’ll find out.”

  “I hope you’re not,” she told him adamantly.

  His eyelids dropped to half-mast, but she saw the confusion in his gaze. “Silly. Why?”

  “Need it to be bad,” she admitted, “very bad, so we’ll never want to do this again.”

  “But bad can be good,” he said, his voice dipping huskily. “So good.” His arms wrapped around her waist and he tugged her onto his lap. Oopsie. She must have forgotten to buckle. “Mmm, your nipples are hard. Your skin is soft.” His warm breath caressed her neck; his hands slid up her back and tangled in her hair. “No devil horns,” he said, massaging her scalp.

  Chuckling, she leaned further into him and licked her tongue into his white-hot mouth. “No fangs.”

  He barked out an unrestrained laugh. “What about a tail?” His fingers skimmed her ass and she shivered.

  “No tail.” The statement gasped breathlessly from her. How much longer until they reached her house?

  “Nope, no tail.”

  She glanced out the window again and was pleasantly surprised to realize they were winding through her neighborhood. Redbrick houses, wraparound porches, well-kept lawns, parked sedans and minivans. Finally the cab eased to a stop in her driveway.

  Without dislodging her, Marcus withdrew his wallet and paid the fare. She opened the door and toppled out. She laughed, he laughed. How long had it been since she’d felt this playful? This happy? Excited?

  Jillian twirled, her arms splayed wide. “I could dance.”

  Marcus swooped her up in his arms and she wound her hand through his silky hair. “Dance later.”

  “Later,” she agreed, because she was thrilled to be where she was.

  “We’re going to regret this,” he said, but he didn’t sound upset. He carried her to the porch and only tripped twice.

  “Regret—do you care?” She skimmed down his body, absorbing his strength, his animal heat. Soooo good.

  “Hell, no.”

  She rooted through her purse for her keys. “It’s not like we’re flying to Vegas to get married,” she rationalized.

  “We’re just two people having no-strings sex.”

  “Wild, raunchy, no-strings sex.” A frown pulled at her mouth. “No, no. Not wild. Not raunchy. Bad sex. We’re having bad sex.” She found the key at long last. As she inserted it into the knob, Marcus closed in behind her. His breath fanned her neck before his lips scorched her skin with a kiss. His tongue flicked out, branding her.

  Oh. More. Please. The door opened, but she didn’t step inside. Not yet. She turned and gave Marcus her mouth. Tasting him became the most important thing in her world, her sole reason for living. Immediately his tongue thrust deep and his decadent flavor filled her. She tugged at his shirt, ripping it from his pants.

  He backed her into the house and tore his mouth slightly away. “Do you have a roommate?”

  “No.” The word panted from her.

  Ziiiip. Down went her zipper, open went the choke collar of her dress, then Marcus was shoving the material down her hips. It soon pooled at her feet. “Step out of it,” he commanded.

  She did. He stopped moving, stopped breathing perhaps. She stood in her black lace bra and matching panties, her black boots riding the curves of her legs. “Well?”

  “Bloody hell,” he said in a reverent whisper.

  Her lips curled into a smile. “Take off your clothes. Wait. First close the door!”

  After he’d locked them inside, he reached behind and tugged his shirt over his head. Or tried to. The buttons were too tight and caught on his jaw. Jillian bit several off, spitting them out as she moved on. Finally he was able to toss the thing aside. He unsnapped his pants in record time and, wavering slightly, kicked them off, leaving him in tight black briefs, bronzed skin and sexy muscles. Her mouth watered for him.

  His body was a work of art. His nipples were small, brown and puckered, his stomach total washboard perfection, ripped with rope after rope of strength. The muscles that tapered from his waistline…Hmmm. I’ll have to lick that line. A fine sprinkling of blond hair trailed below his navel, leading straight to a long, thick erection.

  “Where’s your bedroom?” he asked, his tone strained.

  She pointed without taking her gaze from him. Her hand was shaky. Her body was needy.

  “Too far a walk.” He grabbed her, dragged her into the living room and tumbled her onto the couch. His weight pinned her down deliciously, soft suede providing a perfect cushion.

  Instinctively, she spread her legs, welcoming him close. “If you say someone else’s name at any time, I’ll kill you. I want this to be bad, but not that bad.”

  “Someone else’s name?” He snorted. “Baby, you’re all I’ve been able to think about since the first moment I met you.”

  “That’s because you hate me,” she said as she arched her back and meshed the core of herself against his erection. Her eyes closed in sweet surrender and she chewed on her bottom lip. “Mmm.”

  He sucked in a breath. “I like you right now.”

  She arched again, moaned again. “That’s because I’m underneath you and I’m practically naked.”

  “Completely naked very soon.” There was a pause, heavy and laden with tension. “If you say another man’s name, I’ll kill him.”

  “Deal.”

  He licked her ear, the one with the earrings, then licked her neck and pressed his erection between her legs. “You taste good.”

  “You feel good.” Her fingers gripped his back, pinching the skin. “My head is spinning and my body is burning.”

  “Mine, too.” He palmed her breast. “Do you have four breasts or am I seeing things?”

  “Seeing things. Lick them. All four of them.” The words emerged as a desperate moan.

  He shoved the cup of her bra down and anchored it under her breast, plumping the flesh higher for his view. For his sampling. Then his mouth descended. Hot, so hot, like his body. He sucked. Hard, so hard. Like his body. He swirled his tongue expertly.

  “Oh, God.” Her hips came off the couch at the sharp sensation and ground into his penis. “Yes, yes.” She had to remind herself that this was one night, that she didn’t even like this man, that she’d experienced better sex at some point in her life. Surely she had. “This means nothing,” she gasped out.

  “Less than nothing. Your breasts are heaven.”

  He gave the other one his full attention, biting until she cried out, then he licked the sting away. That sting nearly undid her…but not the way she expected. She liked it. Oh, how she liked it. Wanted more. It made her feel alive, on fire. Like a wire was connected to her nipples and every time Marcus bit them, a jolt o
f electricity traveled through her.

  “I don’t want to be gentle,” he growled. He squeezed her hip in a vise-like grip.

  “No. Not gentle.” She wanted to be taken, ravished. The desire embarrassed her, frightened her. Hard, forceful, animalistic, that’s how she wanted it. What was wrong with her?

  Wasn’t she supposed to want it soft? Tender?

  “Hard,” Marcus said. But he was torn. Usually he took his time with a woman, enjoyed her. He rarely did relationships, which meant he got one shot to get the sex right. Right now he was on fire, and the fire was demanding fast and rough, even though he knew he should slow down—no, never slow—but the need…it was so dark, he couldn’t fight it, didn’t want to fight it anymore.

  Everything about this moment was seductive. Passion was clamoring for release, hot and heavy. He felt violent, erotic, and he knew it was wrong, but oh, he could eat this woman up, one tasty bite at a time. Would eat her up. No, you’ll hurt her. Don’t hurt her.

  “Jillian,” he managed to get out between clenched teeth. He couldn’t give in to those dark desires, couldn’t give in…please give in.

  “Marcus,” she panted. Eyes closed, she ground against him.

  He loved when she did that, but every time she moved she pushed him closer to the edge. Soon he might lose control, might do something that would scare her. But…“Jillian,” he said again. He had to make her understand, had to slow things down.

  “Don’t stop” was her only reply.

  Though it required intense concentration, he forced his body to still and stared down at Jillian. Her dark curls had come undone and they spilled over the couch pillows. Her skin was flushed with pink desire. She was ecstasy, a goddess of pleasure, and if he didn’t make her feel as wild as he did…Soon, soon. Please soon.

  He needed her writhing, his name on her lips, his name in her mind. His name on her every cell, branded deep. He was like a caveman, possessive, primitive. Her breasts overflowed in his hands. Her stomach was soft and flat. Perfect. Her legs were tapered. He considered asking her to wear those boots all night long.

  Still holding himself back, still trying to regain some semblance of restraint, he said, “How rough can you take it?” His voice was a growl.