Misadventures with My Ex

by Shayla Black

  Once I do, I’ll lose all control of the situation. We both know it. I’m in no rush—or I try not to be. But his lust and his impatience are driving my own. I hate that I’m already pinging with need for him. I hate that I only have to look at him to ache. I hate that I already know he’s going to overwhelm me with pleasure, and that, if I don’t keep my wits about me, I’ll surrender my soul.

  And I know I’ll love his every touch.

  After all, Weston Quaid is like a shark. He’ll smile as he’s consuming me.

  “You know…” I drawl as I finish loading the plates in the dishwasher. “It was a long day on the road. If we’re going to do this, I should be at my freshest. I think I should shower.”

  “You don’t need to clean up so I can get you dirty,” he bites out, then grabs the agreement and the pen off the table and slams them on the bar in front of me. “You have ten seconds to sign, or I’m going to come over there and wring a screaming yes out of you that every one of my neighbors will hear.”

  Normally, that wouldn’t be a threat. If any other man said those words to me, I would pray he could give me the kind of ecstasy to make it true. But this is West. He can make me scream. He can also make me pant, whimper, and beg while he’s undoing me completely.

  Why am I egging him on?

  Because some subversive part of my brain loves feeling my feminine power and knowing his retribution is going to feel so, so good.

  Swallowing, I reach for the paper and the pen. My hands shake as I fumble for the last page.

  I have no other objections—or better options. Sure, I could be mad at him for backing me into this corner. But I could have said no. I’m not afraid of hard work. I could have figured out how to make ends meet other than in West’s bed. But then I would have missed out on this. On him.

  The truth is, I want him and I want pleasure. I just need to own up to that and sign.

  “Ten. Nine. Eight—”

  “You’re impatient.”

  “Yes, and I’m done with your stalling. Five. Four.”

  The devil on my shoulder still can’t resist needling him. “I’m not sure this pen is working…”

  He grabs it from my grip and tests the ballpoint on the envelope. His scrawl appears in bold black, and he scowls at me. “Three. Two. On—”

  I pluck the pen from his hand and jot my signature on the page, then shove both in his direction. “Happy?”

  West spares a fraction of a second to ensure I actually signed on the dotted line, then he rounds the bar and prowls through the kitchen toward me, barreling as if nothing and no one will stop him from getting me naked and under him sooner than now.

  I shiver. My sex clenches. He’s staring at me with a driving hunger that makes my skin tingle and my heart thud.

  I haven’t felt anything close to this kind of dizzying thrill in three terrible years.

  “West…” I back up, not even sure why. I want him, but I also love the chase. So does he. I’ve always loved driving him crazy.

  He lunges for me and catches my wrists in his sturdy grip, then tugs me closer. Suddenly, he anchors his fist in my hair and crushes his body against mine. His intent—and his erection—are impossible to miss. “I warned you.”

  My breathing ramps up. The ache between my legs intensifies. “I’m not afraid of you.”

  “Good. I don’t want you afraid. I want you hot, wet, and willing. I want your entire body pleasantly boneless and tender tomorrow. And while I’m at the office, I want you to feel me everywhere on you. In you. I was willing to start slow, Eryn, but you pushed me—”

  “Bullshit. No matter what happened, the minute I signed you were going to drag me to your bed.”

  “Maybe. But now I’m going to make damn sure I wring every ounce of response out of you. By tomorrow, you will know you belong to me.”

  His words send warning bells through me. “Only for six weeks. Don’t count on a second longer than that.”

  This time I don’t mean to challenge him. I simply can’t afford to relinquish anything but my body to West for a minute longer than our agreement. I’m already a bit afraid that I taunted him too much. And that now I’ll pay the price.

  The smile he sends me is dark and smug, full of a confidence that has my nipples beading and my heart leaping.

  “Whatever you say, honey. Bedroom. Now.”

  West doesn’t even give me the opportunity to get there on my own two feet. He bends and scoops me up against his chest, then strides down the hall so quickly that my peripheral vision is a blur.

  “I can walk!”

  “Not fast enough. This way, I’ll be sure I get you there and get you naked before I lose my sanity.” As if to punctuate his statement, we’re suddenly in the middle of the master suite way faster than I would have thought possible. Before I can even process his insistence, he releases me, letting every inch of my body slide down his. Then he bends and tears off my athletic shoes. “Lose the shirt.”

  I bite my lip, holding in a protest. Everything is happening so quickly. I’m still blinking as he reaches for the drawstring of my athletic pants.

  “Now,” he bites out.

  I swallow. My skin crackles with electric desire. I want this. But I’m afraid.

  West alone has the power to hurt me. Because I never got over him. As he’s dragging my pants down and kissing his way up my belly toward my lips is a terrible time to finally acknowledge that.

  Then the pleasure of his rough hands and hot mouth mapping my body overtakes me. He’s everywhere, touching every place I’ve secretly needed it, arousing me in ways I swear no other man can.

  “West…”

  “I know, honey,” he says as he tears off his casual Sunday T-shirt to expose his lean, rippled torso.

  I’m not even conscious of what I’m doing. One moment I’m letting him take off my clothes. The next my hands and lips are roaming all over the flesh I haven’t touched in far too long. I can’t get enough of the velvety skin over the steel of his muscles. I need more of his salt, of his musk that rises from every place that makes him a man.

  Two minutes in, and I feel weak-kneed, dizzy, and frantic.

  He grips my shoulders and pries me off him for a torturous moment. “Take your shirt off.”

  On autopilot, I nod, then reach for the hem. With a tug, it’s gone, and I toss it somewhere across the room. He can take care of the bra. I need to press myself against him, drag my tongue up the strong column of his neck, sniff in more of his scent that’s addicting me again.

  As I lift my thigh over his hip, he catches it and holds it in place, fitting his cock right against every aching nerve that’s screaming out for him. With his free hand, he manages to unclasp my bra—he’s still got that one-handed thing down to a science—and suddenly the scrap of wires and lace slumps between us. With two economical sweeps of his hand, the straps fall from my shoulders and he flings it away.

  Now I’m clad in only a thong. My heart careens against my chest when I realize he’s backed away enough to stare between my legs—at the damp spot darkening the champagne silk.

  He swallows. “I want those underwear gone. I want my mouth on you again.”

  “Will you let me come this time?”

  His answer doesn’t come right away. Finally, he shakes his head. “The first orgasm I give you, I’ll be buried deep inside you. You’ll be feeling every inch of me. And I won’t let you escape the knowledge that I’m the one giving you ecstasy.”

  My righteous protest withers under his words. Suddenly, breathing is beyond difficult, and I’m so light-headed that I’m swooning back onto the bed.

  West follows me down, tearing into his zipper and kicking his jeans away. Then he’s naked, his cock standing tall and insistent in the golden glow of the accent lights on the nightstands. As my back hits his thick brocade comforter, he tears off my delicate panties and starts kissing his way up my thighs.

  I’m aching and writhing under him when he suddenly stops. “You still
have this landing strip I told you to lose.”

  In the heat and the rush, I forgot about my silent fuck-you. Now, I fight to hold in a plea and an apology. Yes, I want West to understand that he can’t have everything he wants just because he wants it. Now, more than ever, I need him to understand that. But will he really withhold pleasure?

  “It’s my body.”

  He gnashes his teeth together with a curse. “Why are you objecting now, Eryn? You never did in the past.”

  “Maybe I’ve decided that I mind.” But I don’t, not really. I don’t know what’s prodding me to defy him. History has shown that he’s definitely going to give me more orgasms than I can handle. The only reason for my refusal now is my desire to control something between us, no matter how meaningless.

  “What would you do in my shoes?” he surprises me by asking.

  “Let it go.”

  He laughs. “No, you wouldn’t. I know you too well.”

  I can’t refute him when he’s right. So I say nothing.

  “You’re supposed to groom the way I want you to. It’s in the contract.”

  That raises my alarm. “It’s not!”

  “Oh, it is. Paragraph three, subparagraph six, clause B. You’re to be presentable to my satisfaction.”

  “When we go out.” I’m positive that’s what I read. Well, almost…

  West shakes his head. “I wrote three-quarters of it myself. I know exactly what it says.”

  “You wrote most of that?”

  He nods. “After I went home, I managed to finish my last semester of college at Columbia, then attended law school. While working as Quaid’s CEO.”

  I blink. “You went to law school?”

  “There’s a lot you don’t know about the last three years.”

  “Whose fault is that?”

  His face shutters closed as he reaches into his jeans for his cell. “I’m done arguing about this.”

  With a puzzled frown, I watch as he sends a quick text. Almost immediately, he receives a reply. Then he smiles and tosses the device onto the nearest nightstand. “In the spa downstairs, Leona will clear up that landing strip at ten a.m. tomorrow.”

  On one level, it’s heady that he cares about the state of my flesh he intends to use. On the other hand, I don’t understand his insistence to have me bare. “Why are you trying so damn hard to control everything, even the state of my pubic hair?”

  “Because I want back the sexual compatibility we once had. I want the naked dinners and the lazy Sunday afternoons. I want the long, hot nights of lovemaking. I want—” He lets out a rough breath and shakes his head. “I want your pussy bare.”

  That’s not the whole truth. I know West’s expressions too well. Oh, he wants to recreate something about our past. The question is why? And how much? But I’m guessing it’s not just the sex. Holy cow, is he looking to make me his girlfriend? His “fiancée” again? Maybe…but now that I’m thinking about it, two and two aren’t adding up.

  Would he go to this much trouble simply to patch together a temporary relationship?

  I stare at him, trembling. Does he think he’s finally going to make me his wife? Or is that my maudlin heart wishing out loud?

  More confused than ever, I finally nod. “All right. Whatever.”

  “You’re not going to fight me on this anymore?”

  Not until I figure out what’s going on and what he’s really after.

  I shrug. “It’s only hair. So I’m bare temporarily. If I don’t like it, it will grow back.”

  His displeasure is subtle, but I notice his jaw tense. Yeah, now I’m really pondering his motivations and his mood that I clearly misjudged while I was too blinded by my own lust and bitterness, and too busy yanking his chain to see.

  Suddenly, my heart is racing for a totally different reason.

  I totally failed to notice his intent to win me back. And I’m in way over my head.

  WEST

  The sight of Eryn spread across my bed is one I’ve imagined a thousand times. To actually see her here, glowing under the lights on the bedside tables, looking both nervous and flushed, arouses me nearly past my restraint. I want to lay my body over hers, thrust deep, and mark her—then repeat the process over and over until she admits she’s mine.

  I can’t. She’ll give me her body, sure. But I’m after all of her—arms, legs, passion, heart—all the way down to the woman under her skin. I need her to surrender to us, let go of the pain she felt when I left and the anger she’s been holding on to since, embrace that deep-down yearning she’s felt to have us together that she doesn’t want to admit.

  Now that she’s finally signed the agreement, I have time to make that happen.

  That’s one reason I’m insisting on her naked body and her naked pussy. Admittedly, I like her that way. Not gonna lie. But years ago, Eryn was very good at making me feel as if she was with me every moment in our relationship…then insecurity would rear its head. Her trust would suddenly evaporate until I could coax her back.

  Once I met her parents, I understood her knee-jerk behavior. Her father is an investigative journalist first. Being a dad has always come in a very distant second. He actually left our celebratory engagement dinner to chase a story. Her mother stayed long enough to pay for our meals that night. Then she left with a distracted smile to finish a costume for a movie shooting the following week. They’ve always been lost in their careers, abandoning Eryn and her sisters to fend for themselves. I hate that for her.

  Of course, my family is hardly ideal. I learned the hard way that, except for my siblings, they all have an agenda that has nothing to do with closeness or harmony. So I steer clear. After all, who wants to cozy up to a pit of vipers?

  But that leaves me in a difficult place with Eryn, trying to repair the damage that my dramatic and unexplained departure on our wedding day wrought. In one morning, I obliterated every bit of the trust she worked like hell to give me. At the time, doing damage control was most critical. I thought I’d have time to return, to explain, to patch everything back together and spend my life with her.

  I was wrong.

  “West?”

  Eryn’s hesitant voice brings me back to the present. She’s naked. I’m naked. I can’t dwell on the past now. I have to look forward and fight for our future.

  I lower myself onto the bed, pressing against her. “Sorry. Just thinking about all the delicious ways I’m going to make you scream.”

  She frowns. “Good. For a minute, you looked…sad.”

  Would she care to know I have been without her? Probably not yet.

  I try my best to laugh off her observation. “When I’ve got you here and in my bed?”

  To abort the question I see in her expression, I nuzzle her neck and nip at her lobe, letting my hands roam her body, fingers grazing the curve of her breasts before skimming her softness, playing in her naval, then traveling south again. As I wander closer to her sex, she holds her breath. Her hips wriggle. Her exhalations become little whimpers.

  “We should…um, talk birth control,” she manages to murmur.

  A decidedly unromantic topic. Plus, once we’re married, it’s not something I want to control much. I’d love to have three or four kids with Eryn. She might be skittish in relationships, but she’s great with children. That surprised me, but I’ve seen her in action. She loves them unconditionally.

  “I’m clean,” I murmur against her shoulder before I nibble her smooth skin. “I have a recent physical to prove it.”

  Her breath catches. “I am, too. But…I’m not on the pill anymore.”

  This evening just keeps getting better and better. Her admission tells me she hasn’t been with many guys since our split. And we’re in the quickie marriage capital of the world, so if I’m able to sweet-talk her to the altar…maybe it won’t be too long before she’s in maternity clothes. Yes, I’m rushing, and I know we have to make these decisions together. But I’m eager to tie her to me in every way. If Eryn had been
my wife these last three years, we’d probably already be parents. I’m dying to make up for lost time.

  “So I brought condoms,” she adds into the silence.

  Of course she did. Eryn is always both practical and prepared. Logically, I know we shouldn’t even think about having a baby until we repair our relationship. But I want more. I want all of her now.

  “Let’s make sure we put them to good use, then.”

  If I’m going to have a tomorrow with Eryn, I have to curb my impatience and start unraveling her. Making love to her is no hardship, so that’s what I plan to do. She’s expecting me to fuck her. To use her. I know she plans to do the same to me. I understand. And maybe she’s after a little revenge, too. In her mind, I’ve earned it.

  Hopefully, that will change once I explain that every choice I made in the past was purely to protect her.

  I roll onto Eryn, pinning her to the bed with my body weight, then lace our fingers together and spread her arms wide. I push her legs apart with my own and shower her with kisses. On her forehead. Against her temple. Down her cheeks. I’m in no hurry and have no particular destination.

  Immediately, she chafes, trying to rise beneath me and meld our mouths together. Clearly, she has an it’s-just-sex agenda. I’m not playing along.

  “Patience…” I chide.

  “If three years wasn’t a long enough wait for you, we can put this off until tomorrow.”

  I tamp down a smile. “I warned you what would happen if you teased me. You didn’t listen.”

  Under me, she stills. “So now you’re going to tease me in return?”

  My smile widens. “You’re getting the idea.”

  “West, that’s not…” She shakes her head. “Never mind.”

  “Fair? Nowhere in our agreement did it state that I had to play fair. I own you until six a.m. I can please, tease, pleasure, or torment you however I want. Remember?”

  Right now, I want to make the love we’re sharing last forever.

  “Whatever.”

  She says the word dismissively, but her body tells me something else entirely. Beneath me, she’s restless. Her skin burns fever-hot. I can smell her damp musk rising between us, driving me absolutely mad.