by Violet Blake
“Then what are you worried about? Ethan’s not going to tell them what he did, and you guys won’t implicate yourselves. As far as everybody knows, I’m the bad guy in this situation.” Because that’s how my family rolls.
“She’s going to ask you to come back to Boston. I heard her talking to her advisors and they said it was best.”
“Nope. Not happening.”
“I know.” Breanna sounded as if somebody had turned down her volume. Sad, almost.
“Okay, so is that what you wanted to tell me? I’m at a friend’s house and I need to get back.”
“They knew stuff. Personal stuff. About me, about Ethan, about you.”
“Such as…?” I sprawled out on the bed and resigned myself to a conversation more tedious than dental extraction. If I could get this over with, I could go back to my regularly scheduled sexual programming.
“Online activity, things I know I’d only sent in emails or through Facebook,” she said.
“All it takes is one person to forward an email,” I said. “Our parents drilled it into our brains that we were never to put anything in writing that would potentially humiliate them later.”
“Right, but it’s stuff I didn’t send or put out there. Like letters I’d drafted on my computer.”
What a whacko. If I were a bigger person, I’d wish Ethan luck. Maybe send him a tinfoil hat so she’d feel better. “How do you know?”
“Last year when I was president of my sorority chapter I started a campaign for the no-kill shelter. I had this whole thing planned out, and was ready to propose it for our project of the year, but that’s when Lydia Dunbar’s brother was hit by a drunk driver so we went with a drunk driving campaign instead. I never got to talk about it, not to anybody.”
The door opened and Sawyer peeked in. “Is everything okay in here?”
I nodded and pointed to the phone, making a choking motion. “Have you been watching Person of Interest again? I know that gives you nightmares. Besides, aren’t you supposed to be on your honeymoon? I booked an awesome vacation in Saint Bart.”
“Stop treating me like I’m an idiot. I know I’m not smart like you, but I’m not stupid. I never should’ve called.” She hung up the phone.
And that was four minutes of my life I would never get back.
Maybe I’d been bitchy. I’d cop to that. But I didn’t have to like her or act like her partner in crime against Mom. They’d cut me out and I was happy.
“What was that all about?” Sawyer asked.
I sat up and stretched. “Just my sister.”
“You still talk to her?”
“Um, no. Not really. She keeps trying to involve me in conspiracy theory bullshit surrounding my mom’s run for Senate.”
“What?”
“It’s really not worth the breath it would take to tell you about it. Breanna has nothing better to do now that she’s married to a billionaire, so she’s going all Nancy Drew on me and I’m not having it.”
“You have the weirdest family.”
“Not my family anymore,” I said.
“They’ll always be your family.”
A muscle in my jaw thumped out a frenetic, irritated beat. “No, not when they dissociate you because you don’t do what they want you to. That is not family.”
He shook his head. “I’m sorry. It’s not my place.”
I let out a long breath. “I didn’t mean to bite your head off. They have a way of bringing out the worst in me.”
“You know what helps with that?”
“I hope it involves activities you can do naked that are within the boundaries of the rules.”
He stepped all the way into the room. “I’m going to have to get my legal team to figure out some more loopholes.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
“You don’t see me complaining, do you? I’ve always loved a challenge.”
“Then enlighten me, King of the Loopholes. Show me what will help my irritation go away.”
Turns out hosting our private foreplay fest in a hot shower was just what a girl needed to beat the crap out of irritation.
...
A few hours later, Sawyer sat next to me on the couch watching True Blood. “Hey,” he said.
I snapped out of my haze and glanced at the screen. The Continue Playing screen was up.
“This screen has been up for a minute now and you’ve been staring at it the whole time.”
I groaned. “Sorry.”
He shook his head and turned his body toward mine. “Breanna got to you, didn’t she?”
“She always does,” I admitted. “What if she’s telling the truth? What if their people are invading our personal business?”
His expression was dubious. “Doesn’t that seem a little extreme?”
“Have you met my mother?”
“No, but Blair, that’s not the type of thing parents would do, even if it were part of the vetting process for her Senate run.”
Oh, Sawyer. “I know it sounds crazy, but you don’t know my parents. When I brought new friends home they thoroughly vetted their parents to make sure their reputations wouldn’t interfere with our family’s.”
“Really?”
“Yes, really. When I found a group of friends at an art club, my mom had dossiers—dossiers—on each of them, and their families. And then she listed all the reasons we couldn’t be friends. When I pushed it, she told me she’d go to the police with something one of them had covered up. Who does that?”
He let out a harsh breath. “You and I had completely different childhoods.”
“You think? And you guys wondered why I ran away from home to go to college.” I’d been offered invitations to all the Ivy League schools my mom had made me apply for. But college is supposed to be about finding yourself, which I couldn’t do under the shadow of my parents. So I’d secretly applied to Colorado State University, and the shit storm that followed had been catastrophic. That was the first time I’d ever stood up for myself against them.
“I never even thought about running away from home,” he said.
“Yeah, well, don’t forget I did it again a few months ago. I’m a total flight risk,” I said, laughing ruefully.
He grasped my wrists and pulled me to him. “Which means I’ll need to take precautions.”
My eyes narrowed. “Such as…?”
“Getting you so addicted to me you won’t want to leave.”
He had to be joking.
He laughed. “You wouldn’t believe the deer-in-the-headlights action going on. Is it really so hard to believe I’d want you to stay?”
Jess had warned me. It was simultaneously the most desirable and terrifying idea. “I am going to stay. As your friend. That’s why—”
“We’re getting ahead of ourselves. Let’s focus on right now, and why you’re fully clothed and we’re talking and not doing things that’ll win this bet for you.”
Geez. Calm down, girlfriend. This is Sawyer. “Um, okay.”
“Okay. Now let’s start with this: why do you get so hellbent on following the rules all the time?”
As if that were an easy question to tackle. I turned to examine the back of the couch. Brown. Leather. Soft. Excellent.
His fingers found my chin and he gently tipped me back to him. “What happens when rules are broken?”
“I’m not a stick in the mud, I just…I really…” I shrugged. Could I not form three coherent words to answer him?
His lips brushed against my jaw. “You really…”
“I like to feel safe,” I admitted.
His tongue rasped against my earlobe. “Rules don’t always mean safety. Shit happens. You have to deal with it.”
“True.”
“I have a solution, and I guarantee you’ll never want to wear clothes again once I’m done with you.”
I backed away and narrowed my eyes, shaking my head. “Those are some pretty cocky assumptions, Sally.”
Noddin
g slowly, with absolute confidence, he held out his hand. “Care to make it interesting?”
“Hell, yes, I do. Prepare to lose your ass, Callahan. You’re going down.”
“If I have it my way, so will you.”
I’d walked right into that one.
“What are your terms?” I wouldn’t disgrace myself by fanning my face.
“Staying within the parameters of the rules”—he coughed into his fist, a ridiculous attempt to hide his devilish grin—“instead of strip poker tonight, we play strip darts.”
I stood in a flash, standing chest to chest with him. “Hang on. You can’t change the list.”
“Do you really want to learn to play poker? You’re already good at darts. Don’t you want a chance of winning?”
I groaned. “Okay, fine. I’ll bend the rules this one time. So what are the rules of the game?”
“Strip poker meets basic rules of darts. I’m black, you’re white. When I hit black it’s your turn. When I hit anything but black I lose an article of clothing.”
I thought about it for a moment. “And winner gets…what?”
“You want an ultimate prize, too?” He dragged his hand down his jaw, and an evil glint took over. “If I win, I get your painting.”
I blinked a few times. “As in the painting?”
He nodded. “The very one.”
“What if I lose the bet and it has to go to the auction house?”
“You’re not going to lose the bet. If I have to literally fuck your brains out today to win this thing, so help me, I will.”
“God, you’re weird.” I couldn’t help but laugh, though.
“Here’s my promise to you: if for some insane reason you lose, I will win it back at the auction. No matter how much the cost.”
“Well, I appreciate that. But don’t take out a second mortgage or anything. My guess is that it’ll go for a few hundred out of politeness and the charitable spirit, so yeah.”
Shaking his head, he rolled his eyes and let out an impatient sigh. “You’ve got to stop with the gloom and doom. Either way, it’s my painting. Are we agreed on that?”
“Sure,” I said.
“Your turn,” he said.
I thought on that for a few moments. What could I possibly want from him if I won? “All right, to make it fair, you have to paint a portrait of yourself. Completely naked. Frame it, send it to me, and I’ll hang it in my bedroom.”
“Are you kidding me?”
I shook my head. “Hell, no. Fair is fair, Sally. You can see what it feels like to view yourself with objective eyes, flaws and all, paint it, frame it, and hand it over to somebody. It’s more than art.”
He put his hand out for me to shake. “All right. Let’s go play some darts.”
Chapter Thirteen
I walked to the wall where his dartboard and darts were mounted.
That’s when I noticed the Erotic Fantasies book I’d gotten for my non-bachelorette party on the table. “Um, really?”
He gave an unaffected, who-could-care-less? shrug. “I borrowed it. Turns out it’s pretty good.”
“And to think I took you for a straight DVD porn type of guy.”
“Live and learn. Why are your hands shaking, Blair? Worried you’re going to lose your ass?”
“Nope,” I said, clenching my fingers around the shaft of the dart. “Just worried about having to soothe your ego after I cream your ass.”
“I love that there are so many asses involved.”
I shook my head in disgust. “Mind out of the gutter, Callahan. Unless it makes you lose. Then keep your mind in there.”
He offered me a handful of darts. “Ready to accept your defeat, sweetheart?”
I pointed my dart at him. “Maybe you should ask yourself the same question.”
He stepped aside and gestured to the line taped to the carpet. “Ladies first.”
I positioned myself at the end of the line, put my right foot forward, and lined up my shot. Just as I was about to strike the board, his hand landed on my butt. The dart bounced off the brick, missing its target.
I straightened, turned, and narrowed my eyes in a glower that should’ve melted steel. “That was mean.”
“Your body was crooked. I was trying to help.”
“Really? Because that isn’t the only brick I’m going to crack if you don’t stop playing dirty.”
“Try it, baby cakes.”
Baby cakes? Oh, it was on.
I unbuttoned my top down to my bra, making sure an ample amount of boobs showed. My bra was a sheer pink demi-cup and pushed the girls up enough to fake some decent cleavage.
He shook his head. “And you say I play dirty.”
“Take your shot, Sally.”
He lined up his shot. With ridiculous precision, the dart hit its mark.
Guess I’d have to up the ante on my distractions. Damn it.
He rubbed the pad of his thumb across his lower lip. “What are you taking off?”
My thighs stiffened, trembling in anticipation. I had to be strategic. I unbuttoned my shirt, peeled it from my arms, and tossed it at his face.
He caught it and inhaled it before tucking it into his back jeans pocket. “My turn.”
The jerk made his shot flawlessly.
I grabbed a dart, stepped to the line on the wood floor, closed my right eye, and raised my hand. Moving my arm back and forth, I took aim. I threw. I hit red.
Crap.
My lips turning down into a pout, I turned to him. “This sucks.”
“Off with the pants.”
I shimmied out of the leggings, let them drop to my feet, and used my foot to lift them to hand height. I handed them over.
Sawyer hit a white square next.
I punched my fists in the air. “In your face, Callahan! Shirt comes off.”
Laughing, he unbuttoned his plaid button-up. “You’re enjoying this way too much.”
“Says the guy who’s winning.” I held out my hand, waiting for my prize.
He handed over the shirt. “You’re going to lose so bad.”
I grabbed his shirt and tied the arms around my waist like a kilt. “Only in your wildest fantasies.”
He walked to the dartboard. I enjoyed the view of his back and arm muscles while he pulled darts from the board, and wouldn’t be at all ashamed to admit I couldn’t wait until the pants came off.
He turned and stalked back to me, his muscles winding up most sexily. “You’re so discreet about your ogling.”
“What? Like you are?”
He handed me half the darts. “Your turn.”
I lined up my shot and my dart stabbed a white square. Sawyer got his next shot, and I got mine. I had a sneaking suspicion he missed his next one on purpose—if I didn’t know better, I’d say he was unbuttoning his pants before the dart made contact with the board. Not that I minded.
Two could play this game. The sooner we got to the sex the better. My next dart hit the wall.
He snorted, and I threw my bra at his smug, smirky face. When his eyes settled on my breasts, I put my hands on hips and let him get his fill. Apparently, shyness wasn’t an issue anymore.
Never one to be outdone, he threw his next dart, and it didn’t even hit the wall. It skidded to a stop on the hardwood floor, three feet short.
Hand still on hip, I faced him in all my topless glory. “Really?”
Giving a careless shrug, he shucked his underwear. “Yep.”
He only wore socks. I only wore underwear. Depending on how you looked at it, my chances of winning were a guaranteed statistic. My eyes locked with his, I opened my fingers, and let my dart fall to the floor.
Blue flames burned in front of me. In the blink of an eye, he knelt in front of me, providing the most helpful assistance. My panties, from this day forward, were fodder for the trash.
He tossed the torn scraps aside and his hands claimed my butt. “Guess that painting’s mine now.”
“Guess so—” I ga
sped. Seconds later my brain registered that his tongue moved between my legs. Shuddering, I gripped his shoulders for support. While he seemed intent on taking his time with foreplay, I needed release.
I pushed him back and sank to my knees, straddling him. Whether he knew it or not, I was officially in charge. “Lay down, Callahan.”
He promptly obeyed.
Hands still on his shoulders, I guided him onto his back, and lowered my face to kiss him. My slick sex ran up and down the length of his ridiculously hard cock. No doubt at this point that neither of us needed foreplay.
I reached between my legs for him, and guided him to me, until I’d taken in all of him.
I moved up and down, almost frantic, adoring the way his skin darkened and covered with enticing droplets of sweat. My hand moved around behind me, and I cupped his sac. Each thrust I made, I pressed him against my butt, taking as much of him as I could humanly get.
He reached for the nape of my neck, wrapping my hair around his fist. His other hand covered my breast and squeezed. “After this…I’m going to fuck you…all fucking day.”
I gripped his balls tighter. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep. We have rules.”
His head fall back and he laughed—but none of the desire burning in his eyes faded. A steel fist wrapped around my hand, the one that teased his sac. He shook his head. “I’m about to come.”
I loosened my grip behind me, and moved my hand to my clit. Something about him destroyed all my inhibitions—I could do anything, say anything without judgment. Closing my eyes, I surrendered to the sensations, my whimper morphing into a loud cry. He bucked his hips and came seconds later.
I collapsed on top of him, still savoring the feeling of him inside me, and his arms wrapped around me, holding me close. Together, our breathing calmed, and I was dangerously close to falling asleep like this.
Wake up call: This wasn’t a comfortable situation. It wasn’t permanent. In three weeks we’d go back to being platonic.
I opened my eyes and sat up, and when he was no longer inside of me I filled with regret. “Meet you back here in a few?”
Eyes closed he nodded, and I hurried to the bathroom. I took care of business, and while I washed my hands at the sink, gave my reflection a stern glower. I’d let my feelings get involved. Yeah, there were plenty of hormones to go around, but this? This was dangerous.
