Driven to Distraction

by Olivia Dade

  She should edge away. She really should. But she didn’t.

  “Black Buford menaced me with his sword, so I jumped from the ship’s deck into the sea below. Only it wasn’t actually the sea.” Clarence heaved another sigh. “Which I knew. But I thought there were cushions or mattresses beneath yon blue tarp all around the ship.”

  Sam winced again. “There weren’t any mattresses?”

  “Only beneath the plank. On the side where I jumped, there was concrete. And a few boxes to create the waves.” Clarence hung his head. “Arrrrr. I suppose that’s why all hopeful pirates had to sign yon waiver.”

  “That sounds really painful, Clarence. I’m so sorry.” After a quick glance at her watch, Con straightened and shrugged Sam’s arm off her shoulders. “I hope you feel better soon. Please call if you want to request anything specific for next month’s stop. I’m happy to find you whatever you need.”

  To her surprise, Sam didn’t turn toward Bertha. Instead, he smiled at Clarence. “Because of the Bookmobile’s tight schedule, Con can only see you once a month. But I could unofficially come this way every week or so if you wanted more items between her visits.”

  He’d do that for a complete stranger? Without even being asked? Was the man trying to score points with her, or was he simply a natural caretaker?

  Clarence’s droopy features brightened. “Thank ye kindly, sir. And did ye notice how closely both ye and Helen resemble Dread Pirate Rafael’s latest lassie?”

  Clarence pointed to the cover of Rafael’s Ravishment of the Randy Redhead, and Con took a gander. Then she turned to Sam. Then back to the book. Huh. What about that?

  Her eyebrows rose. “Now that you mention it…”

  “Thank you for pointing that out, Clarence.” Sam tugged at Con’s arm. “But we need to get going now.”

  “Enough jibber-jabber,” Clarence agreed. “It’s almost noon. Time to swill me grog and eat me poutine! I’m shovin’ off, landlubbers. Arrr!”

  He wheeled backward, closing his front door with a decisive thump. For a moment, Sam and Con simply stood next to each other and contemplated that door.

  “As I understand it, poutine comes from Canada,” Sam said. “Are there a lot of Canadian pirates? Wouldn’t they spend all their voyages apologizing instead of looting?”

  Con couldn’t help laughing. “Clarence is a pirate who draws from many cultural traditions. You’ll get used to it. And he’s right. It’s lunchtime, so let’s take a break.”

  When they settled back into their seats on board Bertha, their momentary ease with one another disappeared. Silence descended over the vehicle once more, growing heavier and heavier as she drove them to a nearby truck stop.

  Finally, after she’d parked in a far corner of the lot, he unbuckled his seat belt and angled his body her way. His knee brushed hers, and she sucked in a breath at the contact.

  Before he even spoke, she knew their moment of reckoning had arrived.

  “Is this how it’s going to be, Con?” His brown eyes bored into hers, their heat and intensity muddling her thoughts. “We’re going to pretend last night didn’t happen and go back to being just coworkers? Is that what you want?”

  He was holding himself stiff, his usual physical ease nowhere to be found. Other than that single knee-to-knee point of contact, he wasn’t touching her. Wasn’t trying to influence her decision in any way, which she respected.

  Ten minutes ago, she’d have said yes to his questions. Without hesitation or an instant of doubt. She’d spent several sleepless hours in her bed last night considering their brief fling, arguing to herself that the potential for awkwardness and hurt outweighed their undeniable sexual chemistry.

  After all, so many possible landmines littered the path ahead. Their liaison could put Penny in an uncomfortable position if she ever found out. Despite all of Sam’s protests, Con still suspected he might invest too much emotion in even a short-lived affair. And Con herself might get too—

  No. Stupid thought. She wouldn’t get too attached, no matter what. She wasn’t in the market for a boyfriend. Period.

  Sam was just so goddamn likeable, though. He hadn’t blinked once at Clarence’s antics, simply accepted the man exactly as he came. And that offer to make extra stops—on his own time, rather than the library’s, Con knew—had thawed something deep inside her. Something that prickled and burned as it melted.

  So her lips couldn’t seem to form the word yes. But she didn’t intend to discuss emotions or encourage an attachment that would go nowhere. She needed to make her boundaries, what she expected from him, absolutely clear.

  “Let’s wash our hands and cover up the windows with some poster board,” she told him. “I want you to finger-fuck me. Then I want your cock.”

  ***

  Sam’s broad hand on her back pushed her down harder onto the desk, and he ground into her from behind. That little show of force was all it took. Con came with a long moan and a full-body shudder. Gasping for breath, she immediately eased the pressure of her fingers on her oversensitive clit and opened hazy eyes.

  Following her blunt demand for sex, he’d dumped the rear work desk’s laptop onto the floor with uncharacteristic carelessness. And as she’d stripped off her clothes, he’d wiped down the surface of the desk with an antibacterial cloth.

  “Not risking those amazing tits,” he’d said, his pale skin turning ruddy under her amused gaze.

  Then, after a few minutes of his talented fingers working on and in her pussy, he’d unzipped his pants, bent her over the newly disinfected desk, and sunk his hard cock balls-deep inside her without saying another word. Just as she’d wanted.

  And now she was completely satisfied, but Sam didn’t seem anywhere near done. So she arched her back further, offering herself to him. He took what she offered, fucking her fast and hard until she had to grip the sides of the desk to keep herself in place. Until, to her shock, she could feel the edge of another orgasm growing sharp within her.

  Her hand fumbled beneath their bodies, only to be shoved away unceremoniously.

  “No.” His teeth sank into the soft skin of her shoulder. Not far enough to draw blood, but far enough to draw a whimper of pleasure from her. “I’m making you come this time. My cock. My hands.”

  His fingers replaced hers, circling her clit with indisputable skill. And with the next wet slap of his body against hers, the next impact of his cock deep inside her pussy, she came again with a sob. This time, he followed suit, shaking against her as he groaned and clutched her hip hard enough to leave bruises.

  He collapsed on top of her, a warm burden that shouldn’t feel so welcome. After several seconds, she forced herself to protest.

  “Heavy,” she said.

  He removed both his weight and his cock from her body, and she hated the way she immediately missed both. But she didn’t allow herself to show a reaction. Instead, she quickly cleaned up with a tissue while he took care of the condom, and they adjusted their clothing in silence. A silence that became awkward as they made quick trips to the truck stop bathrooms, took out their lunches, and began to eat.

  Finally, Sam cleared his throat. “So this is my last day in the Bookmobile.” He took a big bite of his delicious-looking turkey sandwich, his gaze on the Naked Carpenter poster at the back of the vehicle.

  It wasn’t really a question or new information, so she didn’t feel the need to respond. Especially since the first twinge of a headache flared behind her eyes at the statement.

  He swallowed the last of his sandwich, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. “I was thinking about going to the Marvel movie marathon this weekend. Want to come with me?”

  “Sam…” She hesitated, and he began to talk again before she figured out what to say.

  “We wouldn’t have to see all the movies, obviously. The marathon starts tonight and doesn’t end until Sunday afternoon. That’s a lot of CGI, apocalyptic scenarios, and snappy banter for a sing
le weekend. If we watched everything, I think we’d exceed our yearly quota of movies starring a ragtag team of misfits.”

  Two entire days and nights spent watching umpteen million superhero movies? Jesus. No way. Not even for Sam.

  When that thought registered, she gave herself a mental bitch-slap. Not even for Sam? What the fuck? Especially not with Sam.

  “Yeah.” After wiping her mouth, Con balled up her napkin in her fist. “About that.”

  Sam got to his feet in a sudden burst of motion and moved toward the trash can. “Yeah?”

  She should end this fling right now. No harm, no foul. Just two coworkers and tentative friends scratching a mutual itch without hurting anyone.

  “From here on out, no sex at work,” she heard herself say. “I’m a professional. And I’m busy during the days. During the week and on the weekends. So if we’re going to fuck again, it’ll have to be at night only.”

  She’d grown accustomed to his company during the day. With disconcerting ease. And her life didn’t have room for more responsibilities or someone else demanding her time and energy, so she needed to break the togetherness habit before it really took hold.

  “Meeting at night also makes Penny less likely to discover our arrangement,” she said, invoking his sister’s name deliberately.

  This time, he didn’t flinch like he usually did. He just looked at her hard, his jaw tight. But after a moment, his face relaxed back into his normal easygoing grin.

  “Sounds good,” he said.

  “Yup.” Taking a final bite of her sandwich, she banished all lingering doubts from her mind. “It’s the only way this will work.”

  When he came back to the passenger seat, he seemed preoccupied. Within minutes, though, they were talking and bickering again. The rest of the afternoon went quickly, and by the time he left Bertha with a final wave and definite plans for them to meet at his house Saturday night, her head barely hurt at all.

  Our agreement is pragmatic and doable, she told herself as she went to bed alone that night. Logical.

  Too bad Helen didn’t agree. At all. Which Con’s best friend made clear when they talked on the phone Saturday morning.

  “First of all, if you want to keep Penny unaware of your affair with her brother, I suggest you not grab a fistful of his junk under the table at her wedding reception.” Helen huffed out a breath. “Much as I admire your initiative. And as much as Wes appreciated the inspiration. When we got back to our table, he took my hand, licked my palm, and followed your example.”

  “Oh, holy Christ.” Con squeezed her eyes shut. “Not another horrifying story, Hel. I can’t take it right now.”

  “My point is that you’re not exactly discreet. I don’t see you successfully hiding an affair for long. Second of all, I suspect that keeping the arrangement casual is going to be harder than you imagine.”

  Offended, Con stomped over to the kitchen window to gaze out at her garden. “I’m not going to get too attached to him. Shame on you for doubting me. I’m the Booty Call Queen, remember?”

  Helen went quiet for a long minute. “Con, honey, I wasn’t talking about you getting too attached.”

  “Of course not.” Con forced a laugh, which came out strangled.

  “But now I am.” Her best friend sounded shocked and fascinated. “Huh. For the first time ever, you felt the need to reassure me you’d keep it casual with a man. Very interesting.”

  Con bit her lip and squinted harder at the garden. Had she covered her raised beds enough for the winter? Maybe she should end the call with Helen and address the issue.

  “Don’t bother to pretend one of your sibling-children is calling. And don’t tell me about some gardening task you urgently need to accomplish,” Helen said. “I’m on to you, Chen.”

  Goddammit, sometimes having a smart best friend really fucking blew.

  “This changes everything.” Hel’s voice became squeaky with excitement. “Screw casual. You should take a chance, tell Penny what’s happening, and make Sam your boyfriend. When are you seeing him next? Because Wes and I would love to get together for a double date.”

  “No.” God, her head was really starting to hurt. “I don’t want a boyfriend. Shit, Hel, how many times do I have to tell you I don’t have the time or energy for that?”

  “But…” Helen’s tone softened from excitement to…was that pleading? Pity? All Con knew was that it made her uncomfortable. “Honey, the right person wouldn’t add to your burdens. He’d make them lighter.”

  “Not in my experience. Don’t you remember my stories about Kane? How he told me I should spend every evening with him and only talk to my family once a week? Or how Allen expected me to do all the cl—”

  “What about Wes? Because he’s made my life better in every way, Con.”

  “An exception.”

  Helen sighed. “I suppose you’d claim the same thing about our other friends too. That they’re all exceptions to the rule.”

  “Yup.” No need to elaborate. Con believed what she was saying, and Helen knew it.

  “So you’re going to keep it casual with Sam. Kick him to the curb when you get tired of him.” She paused. “Or when you get scared at how much you like him, despite all those barriers you keep erecting between the two of you.”

  Suddenly, Con felt so old and exhausted she could hardly stand. Making her way to the lone stool in front of her kitchen island, she sat down heavily. “This thing with Sam is going to end any day, Helen. The only question is when it’ll happen. And who does the honors, of course.”

  “Soon.” Helen sounded tired too. Tired and sad. “And you, obviously. Always you.”

  “Definitely,” Con agreed. Resting her elbow on the island, she closed her eyes and pinched her forehead between her thumb and forefinger. “Just wait and see.”

  13

  Con shifted restlessly in his arms, and Sam knew he had to act quickly. Otherwise, she’d be gone within minutes, like every other night they’d spent together the last three weeks.

  “Did you have any unusual patrons today?” He stroked a hand down her slim back, relishing the rare opportunity to touch her. Simply touch her, without either sex or another precipitous departure imminent. For such a tough woman, Con had extraordinarily soft and fragile skin, like satin beneath the pads of his fingers. Without proper care, it became damaged. Dry and prickly and cracked around the edges. As always, the feel of it reminded him just how careful he needed to be with her. With them. And not only because he was afraid of Penny discovering their…whatever it was they were doing.

  Was it a fling? Was that still the right term to use? Or had their casual arrangement slowly but noticeably edged closer to a relationship? He sometimes thought the latter, but Con’s continued skittishness argued against it.

  He tried to hide his satisfaction when Con heaved a sleepy sigh and rested her head on his shoulder.

  “I visited an older homebound couple today. They seemed very sweet and innocent.” Her body vibrated against his as she laughed. “Then I spied the covers of their holds. Between them, those two cleared out the fem-dom section of Angie’s Smut Room. And after I noticed that, I suddenly saw the wife’s cane in a whole new light.”

  He winced, one hand instinctively leaving Con to rub his own backside. “Ouch.”

  She gave his other ass cheek a comforting pat. “Before I went, I helped them with a box the delivery woman left at the end of their driveway.”

  He smiled and kissed the top of her head as she giggled again. “And?”

  “Did you know there’s an online store called ‘Paddles R Us’? Because I didn’t. Until now.”

  “Um, no. I had no idea.” He found himself laughing too. “My sexual proclivities have never swung that way. And if this is your subtle way of asking whether you can beat my ass raw, the answer is no. Unless you somehow make it worth my while.”

  She raised her head, propping her chin on her hand. “Am I ever
subtle?”

  “Nope.”

  “Exactly.” She settled back down. “Your ass is safe with me, apart from an occasional smack. I like it too much to hurt it.”

  Her body was softening against his, as if she were growing sleepy. Maybe a little more casual conversation would give her enough time to drop off?

  “Do you get a lot of requests for books from Angie’s Smut Room?”

  “A surprising number.” Con yawned so wide that her jaw cracked.

  “She apparently tapped into a hidden vein of bawdiness here in Nice County.”

  “Not that hidden,” she murmured.

  “Yeah.” He gave a soft snort. “When your downtown coffee shop also sells rubber dongs, I suppose the jig is up.”

  “Hmm.”

  Her hair streamed over his chest, and the smell of their lovemaking had mingled with her usual apple scent. He smoothed his hands over the soft strands, willing her to fall asleep. To spend the night with him for the first time.

  Her breathing grew deep and even as she melted into his side. When she let out a little snuffling snore, he almost cheered. But then, after less than a minute, she jerked awake and wrenched herself from his side, glancing around the bedroom in confusion.

  He sat up and touched her arm. “You’re at my house, love. It’s okay. If you’d like, you could st—”

  “I have to go.”

  She swung her legs over the side of the bed, gathered her armful of clothing, and headed for his bathroom. And as soon as she disappeared behind the door, he slumped and raked his hair back from his face, tugging the ends in frustration.

  From the beginning, Con had told him what she did and didn’t want. Yes to sex. No to intimacy. So he’d tried not to get too attached to her, a woman constantly on the verge of pushing him away. He’d tried to keep enough emotional distance to buffer his pain when she inevitably moved on to another man. And most of all, he’d tried not to risk his sister’s affection for him or court renewed estrangement from her.

  But he couldn’t help it. Maddening though Con was, he adored her.