STUFFED (The Slate Brothers, Book Two)

by Harper James

  “When’s the last time you were treated well?”

  Uh…never? But that’s because I’ve never been in the game. I’m not about to tell him that though. He’d laugh his ass off at a twenty-two-year-old virgin. It almost makes me laugh some nights when I’m alone in bed, touching myself, wishing…

  Yeah. Always wishing.

  “Well, then,” I say, picking up my mint and chip shake, and breaking the moment. “Since you’re so good to women, it sounds like you should have no problem finding that fake fiancé—if you ever come around to the idea. A PR makeover actually could work if you get the media on your side.”

  “Yeah, about that fake fiancé…”

  A bead of ice-sweat from my cup wiggles down the back of my hand as I hold on.

  Eli grins. “I wasn’t kidding about you…and me…in a business deal.”

  As if in slow motion, a ceiling fan blows around the fronds on the walls. Someone laughs too loudly from another table, echoing my sentiments.

  I shake off this latest joke, because that’s what it has to be. A big, cruel joke. “Stop kidding around about this.”

  His gaze has gotten even more intense. “Hear me out. I know we met just today, and we don’t know each other—”

  “At all.”

  “—but you said earlier that you need that cleaning job. That tells me you wouldn’t mind some extra money. A lot of extra money.”

  Although he doesn’t name a dollar amount, he lets his words sink in, and boy, do they ever. It’s almost unthinkable that he might be offering me a better life on a silver platter. Even a little more money could mean that I wouldn’t have to clean bathmats for Randal and Lulu Preston anymore. I might finally be able to go to school, and so would my little sister someday. Maybe Dad wouldn’t even have to clean houses—he could comfortably run the business from a desk, and we could hire more help and expand our client base. But most of all…

  Tears burn my throat when I entertain the nearly impossible notion of getting those meds and treatment for Mom’s Parkinson’s.

  To distract myself, I drink from my shake, but I’m sloppy. My hands are trembling, and my aim is bad. Some of the minty cream dabs the corner of my mouth.

  Slowly, Eli reaches over and whisks his thumb over that sensitive spot. A heartbeat passes, one that throbs all the way through me, and as he strokes my lower lip, I swallow. Hard. Then he skims his fingers over my jaw, cupping me there and guiding my gaze to his. My skin is flushed, warmed through and through, especially once I see what’s in his eyes.

  There’s an inexplicable understanding there, as if he’s the only one who can get past my defenses and read what’s really inside me.

  Before he can see too much, I gird myself once again, but this time it’s with a flippant smile, just like the one he usually levels on me.

  “You can’t afford me,” I say lightly. Then I shrug like nothing matters but this uneaten burger in front of me, and I take a healthy bite of it.

  As he watches me eat, I can see that he’s not comfortable with the naked moment that just passed between us, and all I can do is give thanks for that. It’s fine to flirt with Eli Brennan, but after this burger, I’m out. No more looking into one another’s eyes. No more preposterous fake fiancé talk.

  However, this man didn’t earn his reputation by letting anything get away from him, whether it’s a football, a Heisman, or his future.

  “If it’s the last thing I do today,” he says on nearly a growl, “I’m going to change your mind, Jenna.”

  And when I feel his fingers on my knee beneath the table, spreading my legs, my traitorous body can do nothing but give in.

  5

  It’s as if my knees couldn’t care less about what my common sense is saying as Eli urges them apart. Cool air hushes under my skirt, breathing against my legs, and I’m almost sure I hear the damp sound of my sex as I open for him.

  He strokes a finger along the inside of my thigh. “How much would it take to get you to work with me, Jenna?”

  How much of this would it take? Because, right now, all he has to do is move a few inches higher and he’ll have me.

  Then common sense finally clicks in my head, and I abruptly cross one leg over the other, away from him. He sits back with a grin, and I send one right back at him.

  “As I told you,” I say, “even a superstar like you doesn’t have enough money in the bank.”

  I don’t know how I do it, but I take a slow, you-won’t-get-the-best-of-me sip of my mint shake then set it down on the table. I scoot out of the booth.

  “Where’re you going?” he asks in amused disbelief.

  I merely shrug as I walk away. I like how he watches me with an entertained yet ruthless gleam in his gaze. I like how much power his lust gives me, and after passing the other closed-off booths, I go down a red-shaded hallway and find the restroom, then shut the door behind me.

  I head for the mirrors. The dark-wooded, sensual salon with its bamboo-and-brass love seats and sheer sunset-colored curtains is reflected in back of me as I lean my hands on the counter.

  He wants this, I think as I stare at myself. My skin is tanned, but it doesn’t hide the flush of excitement on my cheeks. My hair is its usual clipped-back mess, one stray curl bobbing near my face. My eyes…God, they’re brighter than I’ve ever seen them, a vivid blue instead of the dismal gray I’m used to.

  My heart is pounding as if there’s a time bomb inside of me, a loud tick-tick that’s getting louder and louder.

  All it would take from me is a yes to Eli Brennan. So what’s stopping me? For one thing, he and I met only a few hours ago. For another…?

  There’re so many reasons to hesitate. But are there any true deal breakers?

  Go back there and just hear him out, I think. What would be the harm? It’s not as if he would break my heart or something. I would be a fiancé for hire. This would be all business, a transaction…

  I shake off the next thought. Prostitution. But there’s a difference between what Eli is proposing and that. Isn’t there?

  The illicit idea sends a quiver through me until I’m interrupted by a woman who emerges from around a corner. Based on her flowery mumu, nametag, and the cloth she has draped over her arm, she must be the restroom attendant. I duck into a stall.

  Afterward, I wash my hands and realize that I probably have two dollars at the most in my skirt pocket. With an apologetic smile, I place the money in her tip jar and leave. But I don’t even get five steps out the door and into the dim hallway before I feel a strong arm wrapping around my waist and drawing me backward.

  I gasp just before Eli lightly pins me against a wall in the corner. He looms over me, tall, feral, and hunched down so that his forehead is pressed against mine, and I instinctively lever my hands against his wide, strong chest. He’s a wall of muscle, and his hands grip my hips, his thumbs rubbing up and down my hipbones until my clit throbs.

  “What’re you doing?” I breathe.

  “Making sure you don’t run out of our negotiation again.”

  He’s only teasing me, but I like this, too—his cockiness, his confidence in the absolute fact that no woman in her right mind would actually ditch him.

  “I don’t run away from anything.” My voice wobbles a little. Get a hold of yourself, Jenna.

  “I suspected you wouldn’t take off, but I wanted to make sure.”

  He casually braces his arm above my head. At the same time, my gaze scans the reddened hallway to see if anyone is around.

  Laughing, he obviously notices my anxiety. “If anyone did see us here, that would work to our advantage. They’d think I’m so head over heels that I can’t keep my hands off of you.”

  As if to prove his point, he brushes his other palm up my waist. Before I can gather my wits, he gently rubs his knuckles against the side of my breast, and I inhale sharply at the carnal shock.

  He’s so damned casual about it that I can almost believe this isn’t happening. I’m not even stoppin
g him. Hell, no—not when, underneath my blouse, my nipples are getting hard, straining against the linen. Not when my skin is goose bumping and a thrill is zinging through my belly down to my center, buzzing there in anticipation.

  “You like that,” he whispers. “Don’t you?”

  As if I’m going to say no. “I’m only human.”

  He keeps slowly brushing his knuckles against my breast, bringing me to my tiptoes as I move with every motion, trying to stop myself but failing miserably.

  God, I really like this.

  “Just admit it,” he whispers. “We could make a hell of a team in a deal that would benefit the both of us. All you have to do…”

  With even more arrogance, he deftly slides down the strap of my blouse until the material catches just over my turned-on nipple.

  I think I hear his breathing hitch right before he finishes.

  “…is make a deal with me.”

  Should I shove him away? But I want his fingers to go a little lower, to touch me right there, and for the first time ever I’ve got the opportunity to feel good, desired by a gorgeous man.

  My body’s way too willing to say yes a thousand times over to him.

  He pulls down my blouse even more, and I look down to see my nipple, peaked and ready for him. My chest is rising with the fast breaths I’m taking. No hiding how aroused I am now.

  A throbbing moment passes. Then another as he mercilessly waits for my response. I stifle a needful whimper, and he eases his thumb over the tip of me, as if he hears the yes in the bare sound I’ve made. Encouraged, he increases the pressure, circling over me as he watches my soft, pink nub get harder. I ache for him to bend down, to take me into his mouth and suck. Just the thought of it builds up such an overwhelming pressure in me that I feel like I might explode any second.

  Tick, tick, tick, tick…

  Instead, he leans down to whisper in my ear.

  “Tell me you want this, Jenna, just as much as I do. Tell me you’ve imagined me inside of you.”

  His damp breath, traced with sweet chocolate from his shake, stirs my hair. He rubs his lips against my ear, and my clit swells with a pounding, wet heat.

  Yes, I really want this. But I’m not for hire—at least not in that kind of way…

  His thumb is still busy, circling, driving me wild. “I’ve wanted you since I saw you out by the pool this morning. I imagined what it’d be like to slip into you, to fuck you until you came for me again and again.”

  Oh.

  One of my hands is still pressed against his chest, even as he keeps stroking me slowly, softly.

  “You wanted someone wholesome to ‘marry,’” I protest weakly. “This isn’t a very wholesome position, here in the hallway. You should stop.”

  “Should I?”

  No. God no.

  Idly, I wonder if anyone has already come into the hallway and seen us, if they’ve left us to our private, erotic moment. But I can’t say that I care as Eli keeps stroking me, turning my knees to cherry jelly, threatening to make me slide down the wall until I hit the floor in a quivering mass of lust. But then…

  Then, out of nowhere, Eli pulls my strap back up to cover my breast, and disappointment bolts through me. But as he slides his hand down my ribs, then over my back, I get excited again. My sex is swollen, slick with the want of him.

  “You’re right about keeping this wholesome in public,” he says in my ear. “I guess I should be more discreet, even if I do want to see more than your hot, gorgeous tits. And I can just imagine what your pussy’s like—juicy, and as hot as everything else about you.”

  Me. Hot…

  He kisses my earlobe, and a flash of desire makes me stand on my tiptoes again. I should know by now that Eli’s easily encouraged as he slips his hand under my ass to bring me all the way against his groin. He’s also easily hard. I can feel the tip of him through his jeans.

  Something like innocent panic grips me, reminding me that this can’t go anywhere. Run, run away as fast as you can. But his fingers are playing their way underneath the back of my panties, over my cheek, and the naughty-but-nice sensation urges me to wiggle against his erection.

  With a harsh groan, he scoops me up, crushing his mouth to mine, cutting off my breathing. My pulse spins, making me so dizzy that I can’t think, can only grasp at his T-shirt in a desperate attempt to…

  I don’t know what I’m doing anymore. I only want this, him, more and more and more of him.

  He buries his fingers in my hair, pulling it out of its clip, our kiss sloppy and wet and wonderful. I’m pushing my hips against him, loving the feel of his dick against me, getting off on how the head of him pushes against my most private spot.

  The pressure keeps gathering in my belly, and I almost feel like I could fly, freed from my old life, dazed by his kisses.

  As he languidly slips his tongue past my lips, one of my hands lifts in the air, suspended. All of me is suspended as he kisses me deeply, his fingers caressing my rear end under my panties, skin to skin. Then, as he spreads his fingers to the inside of my thigh, I moan. He’s getting really close to my…

  Sucking off of my lower lip, Eli laughs against my mouth. “You’ve gotten tense, Jenna.”

  That’s because you’re about to go where only a couple men’s fingers have gone before. And there’s been nothing more than fingers there, either…

  He nips at my lower lip. “I suppose it wouldn’t be wholesome to do what I’m thinking of doing to you right here, would it?”

  He doesn’t have to say what he wants to do. But I want him to, for better or worse, even if I never see him again. I want this to finally happen to me, with him, proposal or not. Even the thought of him finger banging me makes me hotter and wetter than ever. My clit is screaming for him to do it.

  He tightens his grip in my loosened hair and brings my head back slightly, looking into my eyes. He doesn’t look so playful now. No, there’s that darkness in him again, shadows that come and go.

  Tick, tick…tick…

  Then…then suddenly there’s nothing in his eyes. Just a cool blankness. I can see that he’s made some kind of abrupt decision that goes against his sexual needs, and I’m not sure why. Did he suddenly realize that I’m not in his league? Or is he serious about this “wholesome” thing?

  He lets me slip down his hard body until my feet hit the floor, then steps back from me, removing his fingers from the bottom of my panties. My body gives one final tick…, fading into muffled pulses of aching disappointment.

  He actually looks serious, and for a moment, there’s a connection between us that goes beyond lust or business proposals. It’s almost as if…

  No, I have no idea, but I think he’s just as uncomfortable with what’s between us as I am.

  “When will I see you again?” he asks.

  He is serious about this. “Eli, I told you. I’m not interested in bargaining. This deal isn’t for me.”

  At least, that’s what I thought before I came into the hallway.

  “You can go ahead and turn down the deal.” There’s that persuasive superstar grin now, the look of a man who isn’t going to be denied. “But I’m definitely going to see more of you, Jenna. And when we’re finally together, engaged or not, it’s going to blow both our minds.”

  And that’s how he leaves me, deserting me in the blushing hallway, the tick-tick-tick starting up in me again while I watch him go.

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