by Lisa Wells
Did he have any idea how much courage it took her to come to this party? Not knowing if she was going to find herself researching acts of sex up close and in person with someone other than Ian? Just to prove to him—to herself—that she could write steamy romance?
When she thought about it, wasn’t that a tad ridiculous? Okay, it was entirely ridiculous. But seeing how she’d been in denial about this man for over a decade, what was four more days of delusional thinking?
She had nothing to prove and only herself to make happy. She knew that now.
And Ian made her happy.
He pressed closer to her. Close enough she could feel his arousal. Not being able to see heightened her other senses. Heightened her emotions.
She opened her mouth against his and demanded more than sweetness. She wanted rawness. Being so near him made her feel safe. Safe in a place that scared the crap out of her. Not that she would ever admit that to him.
He groaned. Picked her up, carried her across the room, and sat her on a hard surface.
His hand found the zipper of her dress.
She whimpered. The heat was building in her body at a rate so fast she found it hard to breathe. She searched blindly for the buttons on his shirt.
He laughed. Like a man who was very pleased with himself. “I knew you weren’t cut out for kink. You’re a one—”
She stilled. Her mind cleared. “What?” How could she be so wrong about what was going on between them? Gawd. He wasn’t thinking about declarations of love. He was thinking about the fact he was right, and she was wrong. I’m such an idiot for romanticizing what we’ve been doing.
She slid down the scarf and stared silently at him, biting her tongue so she wouldn’t blurt out something without thinking it through.
He stared back, his eyes heavy with desire. “Why did we stop?”
She forced herself to shrug. Her heart tried to convince her she was overreacting, but her brain argued a good case. If he’d been thinking about them as a couple, about loving her and wanting to know if she loved him back, those are not the words he would have breathed into existence. He would have been pulling out all of his romantic moves. Declaring your victory over a bet wasn’t even a little romantic. It was time for her to react according to what was truly going on between them and not her Romance-writer delusions of happiness. “Although kissing you is fun, we didn’t come here to make-out with each other.” She wanted to feel mad, because mad was an emotion she knew how to handle. Instead, a raw sadness that she’d been holding at bay for ten years, thundered to life, screaming in her ear, he didn’t love you then, he doesn’t love you now.
But she couldn’t tell him that. The truth would make him feel guilty about something that wasn’t his fault. It was really her fault. After all, he’d more or less kept his end of their crazy bets and promises. So she would too. This was a one-week experiment, and she needed to move on with said experiment.
He blanched. “That doesn’t mean we can’t.”
Her girly parts woke up to his suggestion. Say yes. Say yes. Say yes. “Where’s the fun in that?” she replied, ignoring her baser needs, intent only on guarding her heart. She fought back the tears threatening to fall. “Besides, I think it’s time for this student to graduate.”
He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Kin—” He reached a hand toward her face and she leaned away.
Her throat was so thick she found it hard to speak. “Don’t.” His touch would unleash a flood of emotions. She gave him a false smile and jumped down from the table. He barely backed up, forcing her to crane her neck to see his eyes. Why did she believe Charlie that they were meant to be a couple? They weren’t meant to be. They were old friends who’d finally hooked up. Nothing else.
A pulse pounded near his temple.
She stepped sideways and moved out of his space. Of course there’d be no declarations of love. This week was all about fantasy. Not reality. She’d momentarily forgotten that. But not any longer.
She reached behind and re-zipped her dress, hoping he didn’t notice that her hand was shaking.
He pounded the table she’d been sitting on with his fist, causing her to jump.
Since when did he have a temper? That was her shtick. She leaned down, recovered her mask that had somehow ended up on the floor, and slipped it on.
“What did I really do?” he asked.
She opened her mouth to reply, and he held up a hand.
“I want the truth. Don’t give me a line of crap,” he said in a rough voice.
She untied the scarf that was still hooked around her neck and ran the length of it through her hands, stalling. He didn’t want the truth. Not really. “Don’t get your boxers in a bunch. Your mention of our original dilemma, my not being able to write sexy and all, caused me to suddenly realize I’ve lost my focus on what my mission is this week.”
“Gather experience so you can write sexy?” he asked in a tone that was part-question, part-statement, and a whole lot of accusation.
“Yes.”
“And isn’t that what we were doing before you froze up on me?”
“I need to be out there,” she pointed toward the door, “pushing the boundaries of my comfort zone, instead of in here where things are comfortable.”
He scowled. “Damn it, Kinley. You can’t really mean that. What we have isn’t comfortable. It’s hot, and incredible, and our time together is running out.”
His words left her romantic heart no room to hide. How much clearer could he say what they had was temporary? All he wanted was to get laid one more time. “Our time together,” she resisted the urge to put air quotes around our time, “ran out the moment you brought me to this party.” She dropped the brush and walked to the door. If she didn’t force herself to leave, she wouldn’t leave. She’d stand here and let him talk her into one more night. “You’ve taught me a lot this week. In fact, everything you can teach me. But, as fabulous as you are, you haven’t taught me everything I need to know.” With those words hanging in the air between them, she opened the door and left.
She was pretty sure she left her heart in the room with him.
No. She wouldn’t leave him her heart. It might be missing a big chunk, but the rest was still hers. She was too strong not to take back what he didn’t want. Wasn’t she?
Chapter Thirty
When Ian emerged from the playroom, his previous dance partner was standing there. Waiting on him. She grabbed his arm and pulled him onto the dance floor, where she proceeded to gyrate and bend and spin.
“I really didn’t know the human body could bend like that,” he said absently.
He saw Kinley talking with the same man as earlier. The prick’s hand was rubbing up and down her arm. He wasn’t surprised by his desire to kill the guy—Kin was his if only for the week—but he was surprised at how the sight made his heart ache. As if it didn’t get the notice that they weren’t a real couple with happily ever afters in their future.
“Don’t worry about them,” his partner said, pulling him out of his self-reflection, but not before he saw the guy grab Kinley’s hand and lead her away.
“Where are they going?” Ian asked his dance partner. He wasn’t sure what to do that wouldn’t make the situation worse between him and Kinley. Was she right? Did he teach her everything he could teach her, and now she needed to experience seduction with other men?
It was his fault. He was the one who set her down the path to prove she wasn’t a good girl. That she could indeed write erotic sex. That’s why they were at a sex party. And she obviously wanted to be with that idiot she’d been talking to. She’d left Ian to go to him after Ian specifically asked her for one more night. She couldn’t make her desires much clearer than that.
“They’re just going to talk. See if they are compatible. See if there are any sparks.”
His insides twisted into a tornado. “Sparks? They’re not electrical wires.”
“Sexual sparks. We should be doing the same.” Sh
e grabbed his shoulders and danced into him. Her hands slid down, and she grabbed his ass, squeezing and pulling him against her.
He stumbled and stepped on her toe.
She yelped and took a step back. “How about we find a dark corner?”
He glanced around, looking for Kinley. “I think all of the dark corners are claimed,” he said in a distracted tone.
“Why don’t we slip into one of the playrooms?”
He spied Kinley, her back against a wall. The ass was dancing for her. Stripping while she watched. Hell, were those dollar bills in her hands? Where in the hell did she get those?
His abductor tugged him along by the tie. She stopped without warning, and he glanced at her questionably.
“I get the feeling you’re very upset.” She slid a finger in her mouth and slowly sucked on the tip and then the whole finger. And then she slowly licked her finger from bottom to top like it was a lollipop.
“Not with you,” he said. How many other men had she performed this routine on?
“I like to be spanked. Do you want to spank me? Would that make you feel better?”
“No spanking,” he said gruffly. What was her name? Did he know it? Had she told him? The only woman he wanted to spank was Kinley.
Tears welled in the woman’s eyes. “Are you sure? I’ve been a very bad girl. Very bad.”
“What have you done that’s so bad?” The question was asked without thought. Were those real tears or fake tears that women could produce when in the mood to manipulate?
She smiled. “I’ve been thinking about giving you a blowjob.”
He sighed, wanting to get away from her without hurting her feelings. None of this was her fault. “I see.”
“Don’t you agree that makes me very, very bad?” She turned around so that her bottom was to him. She bent over and placed her palms flat on the ground.
He glanced around for Kinley. God. What was wrong with him? Was he seriously considering running after a woman? It wasn’t like she was at risk. He’d done his research, and this party was probably safer than church on a Sunday morning. If she was ever going to indulge in her fantasies, this was probably the best place for her to do it.
“Baby—my ass is this direction. Not behind you.” The sweet little schoolgirl voice transformed into a pissed-off female voice.
He glanced back at her. “I’m sorry. It’s not you. It’s me. Under normal circumstances, you and I…well, we’d be getting along okay.” So why weren’t these normal circumstances? He had the green light to screw anyone he wanted. Kinley said she didn’t care. And this woman wanted to be spanked. And he fucking loved spanking Kinley, so why not the woman bent over in front of him?
She stood. “Whatever. You should have thought this through before you came. Asshole. I thought they vetted everyone who was invited.”
Ian didn’t respond. Instead, he turned and weaved his way through the crowd, a migraine was forming—something he had happen a lot right after the falling out with Kinley. He ignored the pain and searched for her. Where in the hell did she go? He opened and slammed doors. Playrooms. None of the couples consisted of her. He was going to break his promise to her. He wasn’t going to give her full access to learning how to write kink. If she couldn’t learn it with him, she didn’t need to know it. If she was dead-set on having a one-night stand with a stranger from a sex party, she was going to have to do it on someone else’s watch. Until her plane took off in the morning, he was in charge of keeping her safe.
He found their hosts. “Have you seen the woman I came with?”
The massive black man didn’t smile. “The beauty in the red gown?”
“Yes,” he snapped.
“She left with a regular.”
Ian blinked. His heart rate exploded. “Left?” He hadn’t really thought she’d leave with a different man. Try to go into a playroom and play, maybe, but not leave. Hell.
Dan gave him a bland smile. “That’s my understanding. She said you were hooking up with the guy’s wife, and they were going to go find a place more private.”
“What made her think I planned to hookup with his wife?”
He shrugged. “I told her the last time I saw you, you were adjusting your Johnson and watching his wife sway her bare ass in your face.”
“Why in the hell…never mind.” Ian headed toward the front door.
“Where are you going?” Dan asked, his smile anything but innocent.
“After her.”
“I wouldn’t do that—”
“Why the hell not?” He stopped and stared hard at Dan. What was this guy up to? And why was his wife giving him a look of concern?
“—unless you’re in love with her.”
Ian frowned. “What’s love got to do with any of this mess?” He rubbed his temples.
“Unless you’re in love with her, and she’s in love with you, you need to allow her to have this experience.”
Ian inhaled sharply, the oxygen slicing his throat with a rusty razor. “Why?”
“Because now that she’s gone down the path of sexual discovery, she’s always going to wonder what it would have been like if she doesn’t complete the task.”
He exhaled a bloody breath. “And if we’re in love?”
“I don’t have the answer to that one. I don’t know what your love can handle. For some, this brings them freedom to love each other unconditionally. For others, this brings them heartache.”
Chapter Thirty-One
Ian ran out the door in time to see a yellow cab pulling away from the curb. He sprinted, got in front of the vehicle, and slapped his palms on the hood, shuffling back until the car came to a stop.
Kinley jumped out. She shoved her mask up so that he had a clear shot of her glare in the light of the full moon. “What in the hell are you doing?”
His heart shifted, like a poorly hung shelf with too much weight on one end. “Where are you going?” he asked, feeling stupid for not having a better answer. He hadn’t planned what to say—just to catch her and keep her by his side.
“I don’t know. A hotel room, I guess.” Her heavy breathing sounded loud in the still night. Her breasts were rising and falling rapidly. Was she aroused? Had she been kissing the guy in the backseat?
“You guess?” He couldn’t keep the disbelief from his voice. Did she really leave with a man and not know where they were going? What the fuck was wrong with her? That wasn’t safe. Was there a small rip in her dress? Who did that to her dress? “Why?”
“Maybe I’m doing it to win the ultimate round between us,” she snapped.
He rubbed his temples. “Is that why you’re doing this?”
She sighed. “Does it matter?”
He shoved his hands in his pockets. “No. Because you’re not going with him.”
Her eyes widened. “Says who?” He could almost imagine her donning a pair of boxing gloves, ready to have a go at his face if he didn’t answer correctly.
What was the correct answer? The words, Me, because I love you tickled the back of his throat. But there was no way that was the right answer. Obviously, he’d been reading too many love story manuscripts lately to have it even surface as a possibility.
He wasn’t in love…was he? No. Being in love was different from wanting to have a relationship beyond a week. “Says me. I promised your brother I’d keep you safe.” He couldn’t promise her love. What if he was wrong? What if what he thought was love wasn’t love? What if it was?
She laughed. A cynical noise with no pleasing qualities. “And you promised me a week of kink. Which one of us are you going to keep your promise to?”
He narrowed his eyes and thought about her question.
The guy got out. “Umm, the meter’s running.”
Ian stood like a stone statue and resisted the urge to deck the guy.
“Just give us a moment.” She walked over to Ian, who’d stepped away from the front of the car. She didn’t stop walking until the toes of her shoes where tou
ching the toes of his shoes. “You and my brother are not my keepers,” she whispered.
“I know that,” he whispered back. “What if I said I’m in love with you?” There. He’d said it. He’d placed his heart on the line—a line he didn’t even know existed until this moment.
Her eyes darkened to a burnt-chocolate brown. “I don’t know? Try and see.”
He combed his fingers through his hair. What was she talking about? Try what? Didn’t he just say I love you?
Hell, was she deliberately misunderstanding because she didn’t want to hear the words? That’s what he would do.
He’d probably pulled that stunt in the past to keep from hurting a woman’s feelings. “Let’s go back to our hotel suite. Call tonight a failed experiment.” Of course she didn’t want to hear his confession of love. A week ago, she still hated him.
She glanced up at the sky and then at him. Her expression was indecipherable. Long seconds ticked by with just the whistle of the wind to be heard over the beat of his own heart. “Okay,” she finally said in a no-nonsense tone.
He raked a hand down his face. “Okay you’ll come back to the hotel with me? Or okay you agree tonight was a failed experiment?”
She turned to the guy who was still standing by the cab. “I’ve decided not to share a cab with you after all. Thanks for the offer of a lift.”
Ian relaxed his hands. Were they really just going to share a cab? He snorted to himself. Maybe that’s what she thought they were going to do, but there’s no way a single man leaving a sex party with a single woman wasn’t thinking about getting her dress over her head and her panties down around her ankles. He was smart enough not to mention his theory to Kin. “Does this mean you and I are okay?”
She nodded slowly. “We’re okay.”
She might’ve said so, but Ian wasn’t foolish enough to believe it.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Ian wasn’t speaking. He was staring moodily out the window.
Should she tell him the truth about the couple at the club? It wasn’t like she was really leaving the club with a stranger. Charlie knew him. Too bad she couldn’t call Charlie and ask her how to play this one out.
