Screwed

by Kelly Jamieson

  “I’ll get you some water.” He strode over to the fridge and returned with a bottle of water he’d already removed the lid from. She accepted it and gulped the icy liquid. “Whew.” She blinked her wet eyes. “I’m okay.”

  “Good.” He patted her back, and she sucked in a long, slow breath, easing into his touch. She turned her head just slightly to look up at him.

  His dark beard stubble looked so good on him. His eyes were crinkled at the corners with concern, and she wanted to touch her tongue to the small mole right in front of his left earlobe. She swallowed.

  Her body tingled everywhere, and she still had that lovely floaty feeling. “I think I’m drunk,” she murmured.

  Cash’s eyebrows pulled together. “What? You’ve barely touched your beer.”

  “I feel…weird. Spacey. High.” She paused. “Turned on.”

  He choked. “Uh. I think it’s the endorphins. From the pain of the tattoo.”

  “Oh.” She cocked her head, still looking at him, her body thrumming. “I like it. But…I need…”

  Their eyes locked. Cash went very still, his hand on her back, warm and strong. “What?”

  Callie slid off the stool, her body brushing against his, went onto tiptoes, and touched her lips to his. “Sex,” she whispered. “I need sex.”

  She gripped his T-shirt in both hands and pulled herself closer, pressing against him. He inhaled sharply, and his hands went to her hips. “Callie…”

  Her eyes drifted closed, and she pressed her mouth to his. “Mmm.”

  A groan rumbled in his chest as she licked his bottom lip, then kissed him again. And he kissed her back, his mouth opening. He took control of the kiss immediately, and her knees went weak. She clung tighter to him as her head spun, exploring the inside of his mouth with her tongue, electricity zipping through her body when he slid his tongue into her mouth.

  He tasted delicious, and his lips moved on hers, firm and warm and perfect. His hands gripped her hips, fingers digging into her buttocks, and he pulled her against him. He was hard.

  Oh sweet hopscotching Jesus, he was so hard. She whimpered and tipped her pelvis against him, then slid her arms around his neck, fingers slipping into his thick hair.

  “Callie,” he groaned.

  “Mmm.” She nipped his full bottom lip, stroked it with her tongue, then kissed his stubbled jaw. “Cash. Kiss me.”

  “Fuck.” But he did it, arms now going right around her, crushing her against his big, hard body. She wanted to climb up him and get even closer. She rubbed her aching breasts against his chest and found his mouth again in a long, deep kiss.

  Need zoomed low in her belly, a hot pressure coiling inside her. She needed more, needed him. “This is crazy,” she whispered against his jaw. “I’m dying for you.”

  “Callie.” He tried to pull back. “We can’t do this.”

  She gazed up at him, her heart thudding, her inner muscles quivering. “Why not?”

  “You know why not.” His voice sounded like he’d swallowed crushed glass. He closed his eyes as if he couldn’t look at her.

  “You kissed me.”

  “Fuck.” He leaned his forehead against hers. “Callie.” His body trembled under her hands. “Don’t do this to me.”

  She moved against him, rubbing against his erection. “Cash…please…”

  He drew in a sharp breath. “Jesus.” With a groan of surrender, he clasped her waist, turned, and lifted her onto the kitchen island. Then he shoved her plate of sushi aside and stepped between her thighs. She wrapped her legs around him to bring him close against her throbbing center and grabbed his shoulders again.

  His hands slid into her hair and twisted in the long strands, tugging deliciously on her sensitive scalp. Sensation slid down her spine, tension aching in the small of her back.

  “Jesus, you’re hot,” Cash muttered as he nipped at her lips.

  “Please. Oh God, please.” She’d never felt like this before, like she needed an orgasm so badly she was hurting, a deep, pulsing, biting desire.

  She rubbed against the hard bulge behind his jeans, and he made a noise that sounded wild and hungry. “Careful, darlin’.” He sucked briefly on her bottom lip.

  “You need it, too.” She moved against him again. “We both do. Please.”

  He groaned and rubbed his nose alongside hers. “Callie…”

  “Do you have a condom?”

  “Christ.” He took a deep breath. “Are you sure?”

  “I’m dying here, Cash.”

  “Ah fuck.” He reached for his wallet, pulled out a small package, and tossed the wallet aside.

  She reached for his belt buckle and got it undone, then lowered the zipper of his fly. Spreading the sides of his jeans, she sucked in a shaky breath as she saw his erection outlined behind cotton boxer briefs.

  The loose low-rise jeans sagged on his hips, and she curled her fingers into the top of his briefs and tugged them down, too. His cock sprang up, enormous, flushed, and beautiful. She stared, her entire body pulsing.

  She swallowed as she watched him suit up with the latex. Her inner muscles tightened, and heat spread from her core through her body in waves. A craving like she’d never experienced made her tremble with want.

  “Now you, babe.” He reached for her hips. She pushed her hands against the marble to lift her butt off the counter as he pulled her shorts and panties down her thighs. She kicked them off when they were at her ankles, the stone cold against her heated flesh as she lowered herself back down.

  When he repositioned himself between her thighs, his gaze dropped there, and her insides quivered at his heated study. His large hands eased her thighs farther apart, and liquid fire flashed through her veins.

  “Beautiful,” he murmured, his eyes heavy-lidded. “So pretty.”

  His thumbs brushed her outer lips, and she let out another soft cry of need. Then he slid his hands up her abdomen, under the tank top. He found her breasts and gave them a gentle squeeze through her bra. Pleasure rippled through her.

  “Fuck yeah. More beauty.” He pushed the tank top up, and she helped him get it off over her head. Her racer-back T-shirt bra wasn’t sexy, but he seemed to like what he saw as he studied the curves of her breasts in the low-cut opening. He cupped them again, almost reverently, and she took in the taut lines of his face, the wet fullness of his bottom lip, his flushed cheeks and dark eyes, and a thrill ran through her that he was as affected as she was.

  Her skin tingled everywhere, and now she was naked and he was gloved up, and she wanted him inside her. She wanted to feel his skin against hers, so she shoved his T-shirt up over his chest and wriggled closer.

  “Hang on, baby.” He unfastened the front opening of her bra and pushed it off. Once more he cupped her breasts, rubbing the heels of his hands up over her hard nipples. She pulled her shoulders back to push into his palms and moaned.

  His hand dropped to between her thighs, and her body jolted at his touch. “Just making sure you’re ready.” He drew his fingertips through her folds, and she knew she was slick.

  “Truth?” she murmured, curling her fingers around the back of his neck. “I was wet when we were driving home.”

  “Fuck, Callie.”

  “Yes, please.”

  His lips twitched as he reached for his cock and directed the head of it to her softness. She scooted her butt closer still to help him, and then he was pushing inside her. Her head fell back at the intrusion, a swift burn flashing through her. “Big,” she gasped. “You’re really big.”

  “You’re really tight.” His jaw tensed, and he slowly eased in deeper. “Holy hell.” A rumble rose in his chest. “This is gonna be fast.”

  “That’s okay.” Now they were plastered against each other, skin to skin, her arms and legs twined around him, and she found his mouth again in a hot, yearning kiss. Pleasure expanded inside her from the pressure of his cock filling her. His hands slid under her butt and tilted her pelvis, and she found the right pos
ition where her clit was rubbing against him.

  “Oh yeah,” she gasped. “Right there. Oh Jesus…yes. Yes. Fuck me, Cash.”

  Their lips barely touched other than the whisper of short, panting breaths, and they gazed into each other’s eyes in a shockingly intimate connection. This man…oh God, this man…

  Everything wound tighter and tighter into a sharp peak of near pain, and then she shattered, shuddering and pressing through her climax. Pleasure washed through her, tingling down her thighs all the way to her toes until she was limp. Cash’s eyes fell closed, his face grew tight, and his hands gripped her ass. Guttural noises rose from his throat, and then he came, too, in hot, weighty pulses inside her.

  “Jesus,” he whispered a moment later, touching his lips to hers. “Jesus Christ.”

  She drew a breath in through her nose and pursed her lips into a gentle kiss against his. “Yeah.”

  Chapter Seven

  Fuck. What had he fucking done?

  He’d just fucked his best friend’s ex-wife.

  Never mind that he’d been crazy about her for years. He couldn’t have her.

  This was a nightmare.

  His body still shuddering from an explosive orgasm, Callie tight around his still-hard dick, Cash tried to collect his wildly confused thoughts. That familiar feeling of self-loathing roared through him, tightening his quivering muscles and tensing his jaw. How could he feel so good and yet so fucking awful at the same time?

  “Wow,” she whispered. “That was intense.”

  That was fucking nuclear. Also, he might have pulled a hamstring. Jesus Christ.

  She petted his hair and the back of his neck, her face resting on his shoulder. His hands still held her sweet little ass and, goddammit, he never wanted to let go. He fought to get air into his straining lungs.

  “Those endorphins are really something.”

  One corner of his mouth lifted in a reluctant smile. “Yeah.” That was what this was—hormones. That was it. He gave her ass a squeeze, then pulled his hands out, easing her butt to the counter. He drew back and looked at her.

  She lifted her head and met his eyes. “Oh no.”

  “What?”

  “You look mad.”

  “I’m not mad.” He swallowed a sigh.

  “Yes, you are. Are you mad at me?” Her eyebrows pulled together.

  He kissed her forehead. “No. I’m mad at myself. I shouldn’t have done that.” That was putting it mildly. What kind of motherfucking shit for brains was he, sleeping with his best friend’s ex-wife?

  Jesus. There weren’t enough curse words in the world to express his feelings of anger and disgust at himself.

  “We,” she corrected, lifting her pointy chin. “We did it. It’s not like you attacked me. I was the one who was, er, begging for it.” Her cheeks went scarlet despite her bold words. Clearly, this was not something Callie did often.

  “Okay. I’ll give you that. It takes two to tangle, as they say.”

  She smiled.

  “But you were under the influence of hormones, and I should have been the one who was strong enough to say no.” Fuck. He’d been strong for so long. He almost couldn’t believe he’d finally given in to it. To her.

  “I think there might have been some hormones affecting you, too.” She stroked a hand over his chest.

  He stepped farther away and out of reach, every muscle in his body rigid. He hauled up his jeans and tucked himself back in, then tugged up the zipper.

  Her eyes clouded, then her eyelashes lowered as she reached for the tank top on the counter. She pulled it over her head, ignoring the bra, which was cruel because even with those perfect breasts covered, they were still tempting, her sharp little nipples poking through the thin cotton.

  Cash bent and picked up her shorts and handed them to her. She went to hop off the counter, but he clasped her waist and lifted her easily down.

  “Thanks,” she murmured, separating a tiny pink thong from the shorts and stepping into it.

  The sight of that scrap of pink silk lit his blood on fire. “I’m sorry, Callie.”

  Her eyes flashed. “Oh my God, don’t apologize. That’s the worst thing you can ever say to a woman after sex.”

  “It is?”

  “Well, there might be some worse things. Like, ‘we have to hurry, my girlfriend’s on her way over.’ Or, ‘that was better than a root canal.’”

  He rolled his bottom lip in against a laugh. “Jesus. I’m not saying it was bad. I’m just saying we shouldn’t have done that. Beau—”

  “Oh, Christ.” She covered her eyes with her hand. “Beau.” She exhaled heavily. “I don’t care about him.”

  “Maybe you don’t. But he’s still my friend. And business partner. And if he knew I’d just nailed you on your kitchen counter, he’d be… Fuck.” His gut torqued with guilt.

  She gazed back at him, eyes full of remorse. “Oh, Cash.” She sank her teeth into her bottom lip. “He’ll never know about this.”

  “Damn right he won’t.”

  “It’s none of his business.”

  He rubbed his forehead. “Yeah. I agree. But still…” That didn’t stop the shame from twisting his insides.

  “Okay, okay, now I’m the one who’s sorry. It just happened… It won’t happen again. Unless I get another tattoo.”

  His eyes flew wide open.

  “Kidding!” She grimaced. “I mean, I might get another tattoo, but I’ll do it on my own.”

  “How is your tattoo?” He picked up her bandaged hand.

  “It’s fine. Barely even a throb.”

  He held her hand for a moment, staring at it. A complex and confusing mix of regret, anger, longing, and satisfaction brewed inside him. He’d wanted Callie for so long. Fucking her on her kitchen counter hadn’t been one of his fantasies, but holy hell, it had been hot. Better than any of his fantasies. And a huge fucking mistake. Both horrified and…yes, overjoyed that this had happened, he drew air into his burning lungs. “I better go.”

  “We didn’t even finish eating.”

  This was true. He looked at the sushi spread out, his appetite completely gone. He couldn’t stay, knowing that now he’d been inside Callie, he was only going to want that again. And again. And that couldn’t happen. “You finish, darlin’.” He managed a smile. “Look after that tattoo. You remember the instructions, right?”

  “Yes.” Her dark eyes drooped, and her bottom lip quivered.

  Don’t cry. Please don’t cry. He’d be a dead man if tears showed up. “Okay, Callie. Take care.”

  She trudged behind him as he walked to her front door, ever the polite hostess. “Bye, Cash. And thank you for taking me…”

  He closed his eyes and tipped his head back.

  “…to get the tattoo.”

  “Welcome, darlin’.”

  …

  Cash couldn’t stop beating himself up for what had happened.

  Sunday morning he awoke after a few hours of restless sleep, irritable and with a strange urge to punch something. All night long he’d dreamed of Callie, which was fucking torture. How could he have let something like that happen?

  And he and Beau were going golfing this afternoon, so he had to face him. And not only did he have to face Beau, they were golfing with Aaron Sutherland, Callie’s uncle, and Jed Crenshaw, who’d married into the Sutherland family and who would be making the decision on the Sutherland Industries refinery substation construction project.

  He rubbed his face, briefly considering calling Beau to tell him he was sick.

  Nah, he couldn’t bail on him. Christ, the guilt was eating away at his guts, though. Why, why had he let that happen?

  He hadn’t stood a chance.

  He sighed, heaving his golf clubs into the back of his truck.

  He’d wanted her for so long. Years ago he’d resigned himself to the fact that she would never be his. Beau had claimed her, they’d fallen in love, and Cash had shut down his feelings. He’d hid his misery th
e first night she’d stayed over at their place, and the day she’d flashed her two-carat diamond engagement ring in front of his eyes. He’d shut down his feelings for a lot of things, closing himself off to protect his miserable secret. Nailing every other woman he could get into his bed—not to mention other places—was supposed to help him get over Callie, but he’d never gotten involved with any of those women. Never found anyone else he could care about that way.

  He’d managed to convince himself he was over her until Beau screwed around and broke her heart. Then he’d known he’d been bullshitting himself, because he felt Callie’s pain like it was his own.

  As he drove to the country club, he remembered the day he’d caught Beau cheating on Callie. They’d actually come to blows that night, when Cash had exploded with fury after catching Beau with that blonde. A burn hit his chest even now, remembering the red-hot blaze of rage he’d felt on her behalf. Beau’d been shocked when Cash had laid in to him, since he was the guy who was always pokerfaced and in control. Apparently the emotions he’d been bottling up over the years had spilled over, and Cash had been ashamed of losing control like that.

  After he’d gotten over the shock of Cash losing control and punching him, Beau’d been pissed. He’d tried to make cheating sound like nothing, like everyone did it and it was no big deal. Oh man…if Callie were his, he’d worship her the way she deserved. He’d never cheat on her.

  It was a wonder he and Beau were still friends and partners, after the fight they’d had.

  Maybe in Beau’s world it was no big deal, but Cash remembered his mom’s devastation and heartbreak when his dad had cheated on her. That shit was not right, and the fact that he cared so much about Callie had made it all the worse.

  “Jesus, what are you so worked up about?” Beau had asked him, rubbing his jaw where Cash had just landed a punch. They’d stood panting and glaring at each other.

  What could he say? Hands clenching into fists, his jaw tense, Cash had struggled for words. Finally he’d said, “Callie doesn’t deserve that.”

  Beau had lifted one eyebrow. “Why do you even care?”

  “She’s a friend. All this time you two have been together, I’ve gotten to be friends with her.”