Reckless Beat Box Set #2

by Summers, Eden

  “Really?”

  She could feel his gaze still glued to her. Testing. Waiting for her to break and admit she was gagging for a piece of him.

  “Mmm.” She licked her lips, placed the mug against them, and then finally met his eyes as she sipped.

  “Does this artistic charm have any effect on you?”

  He knew it did. There was no doubt between them. But she wouldn’t stroke his ego so easily.

  “I suppose I have a higher immunity than others.” She took another sip. “It’s part of the job description.” Shit. She winced, not wanting to steer the conversation back to her career.

  “I guess I’ll have to work a little harder then.”

  She released the congealing breath in her lungs, thankful she didn’t have to divert an inquisition on topics surrounding Ryan. “Maybe.”

  His eyes sparkled, the softness of his features appearing foreign in a field of black hair and harsh, dark ink. “So what brings you back to Vegas, Leah?”

  She grinned. “Fun, I guess.” And hopefully sexual delirium.

  “I’m sure a woman like you could find fun anywhere.” He raised his brow in question. “Why don’t you just admit you came here to see me?”

  He was messing with her again. Fucking with her in the cockiest possible way. Little did he know she dealt with accomplished male seducers like him daily.

  “What if I said yes?”

  The humor fled his features, replaced with a comforting sincerity as he rested his elbows on the table. “Then I’d be flattered.” He held her captive with his shamrock stare. “I’d also hope to hell I could make it worth your while.”

  Wow. She didn’t expect that. He was far more accomplished than she anticipated. Not only did he know the back and forth dance moves of attraction, he also elaborated. He sidestepped. He dipped. Logan even twirled her emotions, knocking her off kilter.

  “That may be challenging.” She raised her chin. Schooled her features. “Given your reputation.”

  He frowned, the briefest flicker of confusion before his face lit up like the fourth of July. His laughter was infectious, a balm over her fractured nerves. “I really need to put my foot down and stop Emma calling me pin-dick, don’t I?”

  Leah pursed her lips and shrugged. There was no way Logan could be this smooth and confident if he wasn’t packing something impressive. “Although your self-assurance is admirable, it does leave me wondering if it’s overcompensation.”

  “Really?” he drawled, sitting back in his chair. “I guess it’s only natural I offer to prove her wrong.”

  “Hmm.” She took another sip, hiding her smile behind her mug. “Only natural.”

  His laughter ignited all over again. A flash of humor that had ovaries in a ten-foot radius exploding.

  “So you’re still single?” She held her breath. This part was important. No assumptions allowed. After years vowing to never be the other woman, she wasn’t going to let her guard down.

  He inclined his head. “Am, and always will be. Commitment isn’t suitable to my palate.”

  He played the emotionless bad-boy with finesse. His appearance set the tone. His words backed it up. But he failed at one simple thing—he smiled too easily. It wasn’t a meager lift of his lips. When he grinned, it brightened his entire face. It was a smile you couldn’t help reciprocating. One that made her feel like he’d be perfect dating material. Or once had been, before someone shattered his need for love.

  “And how about you?” he continued. “I gather that guy you were after didn’t step up to the plate.”

  Oh, he definitely stepped up. The problem was the swing. Ryan hit too hard, too fast, knocking her right out of the ballpark. “You still remember that?”

  “There isn’t much about that night I could forget.”

  Me either. Logan had pierced her clit, helping to fulfill a dare from Alana’s bachelorette party, but giving her so much more than a bedazzled puss. He’d left her knees weak, and her confidence boosted. He’d worked her into a frenzy with the passion in his fuck-me stare, and left her with a promise that she could come back for more if she ever needed.

  “Actually…” She lowered her gaze, staring at the liquid heaven in her mug. “He kissed me.”

  There was a beat of silence. A wordless contemplation before, “Isn’t that what you wanted?”

  She released a derisive laugh. “He’s married.”

  “Oh, shit.”

  Leah raised her gaze and watched as Logan ran a rough hand over his jaw.

  “Walk away, sugar. You don’t need that shit. Once a cheater, always a cheater.”

  “It’s a long story.” Too long to discuss over coffee. Maybe if they had a few years together she could explain it all—the day they met, the first awkward flirtation before she realized he was engaged to be married, and the way they became best friends, then lost the connection all over again due to a stupid misunderstanding. “He only kissed me because he was angry and confused. His wife handed over divorce papers that morning, humiliating him in front of friends and strangers.”

  “And he retaliated by kissing you?” He jerked back, his face a picture of disgust. “Sounds like an asshole to me.”

  No. Ryan wasn’t even close to being an asshole. He was lost. Hurting. He had been for years. “Anyway… Let’s slide right past this conversation, shall we?” She pasted on a smile. “How long until you have to get back to work?”

  Logan frowned. Didn’t even check his watch. “We’ve still got time.” He contemplated her. His gaze seeking answers she didn’t want him to find. “Why are you here, Leah?”

  Pick an answer, any answer—stupidity, lust, reassurance, fun, defense. “I’m taking my first short vacation in years. I thought Vegas would be a great place to explore.”

  “I mean, why are you here? Why did you show up at Perpetual Design?”

  She whimpered. He wasn’t going to let her off easily. He wanted her to say the words, to appease his rather large ego. “I’m in need of affection. Attention.” There. She’d said it aloud. “I came here hoping you might provide it. Somewhat temporarily.”

  She held her breath waiting for his annoyance. Maybe even disgust. She barely knew the man. Apart from one heated interaction and the potent flicker of something wicked between them, they were strangers. And she’d just asked him to be her fuck buddy.

  Subtle, Leah. Real subtle

  She knew all about male pride. No man wanted to be called a slut. Or did they?

  His lips quirked, the movement slow and taunting.

  “Why are you smiling?”

  “Sorry.” He simmered the humor in his features, dulling it down to a smirk. “I’m finding it hard to sit still and not thrust my chest out a little.”

  “You’re preening?” Logan certainly wasn’t fabricating his aversion to commitment. “You’re not offended?”

  “Sugar, if you traveled god-knows how far to be with me, how the hell could I be offended?” His smirk increased, pulling at his lips in a way that made her panties melt. “If your interest doesn’t speak for my piercing skills, I don’t know what will.”

  He reached across the table and grabbed her hand. The rough texture of his fingertips scraped her skin, each millimeter an agonizing tease to her libido.

  “And besides,” he continued, “you’re beautiful.”

  Each heartbeat blended into the next, the rhythm pounding in her ears. She was excited. Aroused. And all the while the eyes before her flickered in shade, darkening, making it easier to pretend she stared back at someone else.

  “You’re not so bad yourself,” she murmured.

  He squeezed her hand and chuckled. “Is that the best you can do, sugar?”

  Sugar? Why did he keep calling her that? “For starters, you need to stop referring to me as sugar.” She slid her hand away. “Someone sweet wouldn’t blow your mind, like I plan to blow yours.”

  He narrowed his focus, his stare turning feral. “Point taken,” he growled. “Don’t
call Leah sugar if I wanna get blown.”

  Jesus. He was too damn cocky for his own good.

  “Anything else?”

  Yeah, there was more. Much more. “I don’t want to be reminded of why I’m here.” She breathed through the tightness in her chest. “I don’t want any questions about my life, or Ryan.”

  She cringed at how easily his name slid from her mouth. Like a summons, images of him came flooding to mind. The feel of his lips. The brush of his beard over her skin.

  “No problem.” Logan released his grip on her hand and trailed a lazy fingertip over her knuckles. “Anything else?”

  “Nope.” She swallowed over the tightness in her throat. “I’m good.”

  “And you’ll be even better once I’m finished with you.” He began to laugh, and all Leah could do was smile and shake her head. Trust her to flee five drool-worthy, arrogant men and head straight for one who was exactly the same.

  “All jokes aside—” He pushed back in his chair and stood, holding out a hand to help her to her feet. “—are you staying on the strip?”

  “The Bellagio.”

  “Well, where we go from here is up to you.” He led her from the café, placing his hand on the small of her back as they walked down the sidewalk. “I work twelve-hour shifts. If you want, we can catch up at midnight. Or we can leave it until tomorrow when I knock off for the week. I have a place on the outskirts of the city that we can go to. Or if you feel safer at the Bell—”

  “I trust you.”

  He scoffed, the sound sliding down her back like warm molasses. “Maybe you shouldn’t.” He leaned in, still strolling beside her, his lips brushing her ear. “My intentions for you are far from innocent.”

  Even better. She’d been stuck on a revolving loop of good intentions with Ryan. It was time for a taste of something different. “Tomorrow night.” She paused as Logan opened the door to the piercing studio and motioned for her to proceed him. “I’ll come back then.”

  She needed time to prepare. To recharge. If they were going to do this—have kinky, naughty, monkey sex—she wanted to do it right. With a body of smoothly shaved skin and the scents of heavenly aromas clinging to all the places she wanted him to taste.

  “Midnight tomorrow,” he confirmed and strode behind the counter to retrieve her suitcase. “Do you want me to call you a cab?” He returned to her side and handed over the pull handle to her luggage.

  “It isn’t far. I’ll find my way.”

  He frowned but acquiesced with a nod. “Tomorrow then.” He leaned into her, without a smile, without humor, and gripped her chin between his finger and thumb.

  Her breath caught. Held. The world disappeared as his mouth took hers. Quick. Hard. Demanding. He was there and gone in the blink of an eye. She was sure he planned it that way. A mere taste. A tease to her palate. A shot of something sinful to leave her begging for more.

  “See you soon, Leah.” He dropped his hold on her chin and backed away.

  There was no more will to fight the insane level of attraction. She couldn’t feign indifference any longer. With a kiss and a whispered promise, she was gone. Drooling. Her legs weak. Her pussy aching.

  She remained frozen as he walked away. Her gaze caught on the flex of his ass, the tattoos on his knuckles. She could spend days learning the intricacies of his body. Or she thought she could, until he threw a cocky grin over his shoulder and disappeared into the hall.

  Chapter Three

  Leah showered, dressed, undressed, showered again, dressed again, and finally committed to putting on a light splash of make-up so she didn’t start the process from scratch. It wasn’t like her to be nervous. And she wasn’t. She was just sick of staring at her cell, reading the text messages that seemed to arrive at regularly scheduled intervals.

  Where the fuck are you? From Mason.

  I’m worried about you. Please call. From Gabi.

  Your replacement is a fucking tool. Hurry up and get home. From Mitch.

  I always knew he’d be a bad kisser. I would’ve fled, too. From Blake.

  The list went on and on. But the worst came from Ryan. The brief messages that pleaded for things she wasn’t strong enough to give.

  I’m sorry. Please answer your phone, so we can talk.

  You need to come back. The guys are going to kill me.

  I’m starting to panic. Please call someone and tell them you’re all right.

  She wished it was that easy. But calling or messaging would acknowledge the mistake she’d made, and she wanted to remain under the stone she’d crawled beneath for a while longer.

  Nothing could excuse what she’d done. What she’d allowed to happen. She became involved with a client, no matter how fleeting. Then exacerbated the situation by leaving without explanation. The only way to get back to her position of control was to address what happened with sterile professionalism. A stance she couldn’t currently take when her mind was still in chaos.

  The last twenty-seven hours hadn’t helped. Her needs and desires were colliding with her obligations and commitments. She was losing focus on the career she’d forged through hard work and determination.

  She’d spent years going over this time and time again—Ryan wasn’t a possibility. He was her client. A celebrity. A man who may soon be single, but was still as out of reach as he’d ever been. They hadn’t even spoken civilly for over a year. Not since Australia and all the drama that unfolded when she’d chosen to keep rumors of his wife’s infidelity to herself.

  Jesus fucking Christ. She pulled her suite door shut behind her and pounded out the steps to the elevator. No matter where she went or what she did, even in a city like Vegas, the last twenty-seven hours had drowned in Ryan’s presence. She couldn’t block him out.

  But hopefully, Logan would.

  The brief flicker of arousal-induced anticipation was what had her increasing her pace through the busy streets. She deserved tonight, and tomorrow, and however long she could spend with the tattooed bad-boy perfection of a man with magical hands and a sweet tongue.

  She wasn’t going to feel guilty. There would be no second-guessing. It was her time to let her hair down, have marvelous, sweat-inducing sex, and not waste every single breath worrying about when Reckless Beat were going to turn her hair gray.

  She hitched her handbag higher on her shoulder, the heavy weight filled with overnight items because she had no intention of sleeping in her hotel room tonight. Or tomorrow. She’d be back to the grindstone soon enough and didn’t want one regret hovering in her mind over Logan.

  After a brief stop in a convenience store for condoms, she arrived at Perpetual Design, five minutes past midnight. She pushed the door, cringed at the bell clanging above her head, and took a few seconds to catch her breath.

  “Leah?”

  His deep voice swept over her, stimulating places he shouldn’t have the power to affect so easily. It didn’t bode well. Her modesty fled. She was going to scale his body like a mountaineer. Go full-blown jungle-gym on his ass and climb all over him. She wanted rough sex. Dirty sex. Every different degree and varying shade of the most intense pleasure she’d ever had. Whatever it took to get her mind out of the clouds and into reality.

  “Yeah.” She swallowed over the dryness in her mouth. “It’s me.”

  “I’ll be out in a minute. If you can lock the front door and flip the closed sign, I’d appreciate it.”

  “No problem.” She placed her handbag on the counter and did as requested. The click of the lock was deafening. Solidifying. It echoed in her heart louder than it should have. It touched the places inside her that Ryan had claimed long ago.

  “Damn him.” She clutched the door handle, yanked a little, testing the lock. Testing her resolve. The door didn’t budge. It held her insecurities. Kept them in place.

  Her shoulders slumped as she stared straight ahead, not through the glass but at it. At the reflection of Ryan staring back at her. He was everywhere. In her mind, her heart, her wo
rds. It had to stop.

  “Leave me alone,” she whispered. Please, just leave me alone.

  “Are you ready?”

  She closed her eyes at Logan’s voice, tried to smile at the seduction in his tone. “I was born ready.”

  She turned, swallowing over the dryness in her mouth. All the questions on her mind vanished. What stood before her were only answers.

  “You look nice.” He’d dressed up—black jeans, a matching button-down, the sleeves raised to his elbows, the top buttons undone to tease her with a glimpse of his tattooed chest. He was all dark. All mysterious. The only thing breaking the sea of night was his belt. The silver buckle drawing her attention to a rather discernable bulge in his crotch.

  “And you look like a woman about to be fucked within an inch of her life.”

  She’d never known a navy pencil-skirt, white blouse, and peep-toe stilettos pulled off that visual, but it was good to know.

  “Come here.” He jerked his head, the mere movement demanding and belly-fluttering.

  She wasn’t one to come running at the bark of a man, but this was different. It wasn’t only his rough voice ordering her forward, it was her ovaries, and every feminine part of her body attached to them. She sauntered forward, a smile lifting her lips.

  He flicked off the light, bathing the shop front in darkness, the hall behind him equally filled with shadow. The only light came from a room at the back of the building, and the street outside. Just enough illumination to tease her with his features.

  She paused at the counter, hitching the handbag on her shoulder before stopping in front of him, peering up at his devilish face. His expression was devoid of emotion, his shoulders straight, his hands lazy at his sides.

  There was no warning. No glimpse of heat before he slid his hand around her neck and slammed his mouth against hers. She hadn’t expected it, hadn’t anticipated the way he’d knock her off her feet with his kiss and have her clinging to his biceps for support.

  He spun her—one hand on her neck, one on her hip—and walked them into the hall. His body leaned into her, touched every part of her as he backed her into the wall, caging her in. His tongue parted her lips, the unfamiliar feel of his piercing sending an intense spike of excitement through her blood. The connection became addictive. She wanted more of this delirium. More of this distraction.