“Don’t worry about it,” she heard herself say with more nonchalance than she felt. “You need to focus.” Was she being spiteful? No. This was support. He wanted her to understand this was his job, and she was trying. And this way, he had the room to do what he needed. It wasn’t up to him to entertain her twenty-four-seven.
“Are you sure? What are you going to do?” he asked.
She pulled Wyatt’s card from her purse. “See if I can find some company for the evening, and give you time to think.”
He scowled and worked his jaw up and down. “Cool.” His casual tone didn’t match his expression. “Text me your details when you get there, and I’ll catch up when I’m done.”
“Good idea.” She grinned. Was he making the offer because he was jealous? No. He’d made his stance clear. He only suggested it because part of the point of this trip was to spend time together. And even if he was being possessive or envious, it wasn’t up to him. When it came to their relationship, he’d made his stance clear.
WYATT WAS SURPRISED but pleased when Fiona called. He’d been figuring out how to put himself in their path again.
“I’ve got a free night, and you’ve been in a town a few days. If you’re available, maybe you could show me the highlights of the city?” The blend of hesitation and boldness in her request was tantalizing.
He also didn’t miss the singular pronouns. “I haven’t done a lot of the tourist stops, but I can show you a few places the locals love,” he said.
“You sound like P...” Her chuckle and words trailed off. “Never mind. Yes. Okay. I’m in.”
She was going to say he sounded like Parker. The guy was drawn to dives and locals-only spots. It was one of the things Wyatt enjoyed about his clips. How much nudging would it take, to get her to talk about what happened after the camera stopped rolling the other day? Did it have anything to do with her solo request tonight, or was this coincidence?
“I know the perfect place to start,” he said. “It looks like an armpit from outside, but it’s the best Korean barbecue in the Ohio River Valley.”
“That’s oddly specific.” This time her laugh didn’t fade.
“It’s not fine dining, but it’s worth a visit. How’s that?”
“Sounds perfect. I’ll be there.”
He gave her the address and said he’d be out front at eight, and he swore he heard breathy giddiness when she said, “See you then.”
Fiona was waiting on the sidewalk when he arrived, five minutes early. She faced away from him, fidgeting with a strand of hair. Her jeans hugged her hips and ass, and accentuated her long legs. Her top was wispy and black, and he swore he saw a hint of red bra beneath. If the sun weren’t fading behind the skyline, it might be easier to tell.
“I hope I didn’t keep you waiting.” He rested a hand on her shoulder.
She jumped and whirled, a shy smile and a blush spreading across her face when she met his gaze. “I just got here.”
“Perfect.” He dropped his hand to her hip, to nudge her toward the door. “Shall we?”
A mouthwatering combination of scents greeted them when they stepped inside. Spices and meat. Bright fluorescents bounced off wooden seats and tables with grills in the center.
Wyatt’s decision to meet here had more to do with how the meal was eaten than the food itself.
A woman showed them to a table in the back. “Careful of the middle—it’s hot,” she warned as she handed them menus.
Fiona hovered her hand a few inches over the metal surface, and Wyatt laughed.
“What?” she asked as she sat.
He shook his head. “That’s what I did, too. The woman says it’s hot, and the first thing most people do is check for themselves.”
“I wonder why that is.”
“People inherently distrust other people?”
“That’s cynical.”
“I’m a cynical kind of guy. What would you guess, if not that?”
Fiona trailed her thumb along the crease of the paper wrapper holding her chopsticks. “People are naturally curious. We want to learn. Experience. Grow.”
“Is that why you’re here?” That wasn’t what he meant to ask, but it would let him drive the conversation anyway.
“Do you mean tonight, or this trip in general?”
“Yes.”
She twisted her mouth into a crooked smile that pushed her lips into a plump, kissable heart shape. “Then, yes,” she said.
Fuck—he liked sparring with this woman. “In that case, I hope your curiosity isn’t sated after tonight.”
She ducked her head, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.
The waitress interrupted, to take their orders.
“May I?” Wyatt asked Fiona.
“Considering I have no idea where to start? Please.”
He ordered a little bit of everything.
“Why the hot table?” Fiona asked when the waitress left.
He held up a finger, indicating she should wait. “It’s more of a show thing than a tell thing. Until then, are you doing all right? I saw the clip from the other day.” He let sympathy bleed into his tone.
Her skin paled several shades. “I’m good. Fine. An old wound, is all.” Her voice was tight.
He hit a more sensitive nerve than he expected. “Does that fine have anything to do with why Parker isn’t here?”
“He’s got work to do. I left him to do it.”
“Lucky for me, then.” Wyatt wasn’t going to call bullshit. He wasn’t dragging this up to spoil the mood. Or maybe he was, in a way. He’d rather see the boundaries now, or at least get a loose idea of where they were, before he pushed her too far in the wrong direction. Wyatt would either be the supportive shoulder to cry on or the rebound guy. Perhaps both, if he played his cards right.
Their food arrived—two bowls of frozen raw meat, one of lettuce leaves, and a variety of dipping sauces.
Fiona raised her eyebrows. “Well?”
“Steak.” He plucked from the first bowl and dropped a bite-sized piece on the grill. He repeated the movement. “And pork.” Grease sizzled and popped between them. He unwrapped his chopsticks and tugged to break them apart. “Spicy or sweet?”
“Sweet.” The way she licked her lips drove straight to his cock, but her ghost of a frown said he needed to shift her mood back to playful.
He selected a piece of lettuce, wrapped it around some freshly grilled steak, and dipped it in the plum sauce. Roll pinched between chopsticks, he held it across the table for her.
She leaned in and let him feed her. Her movements were an alluring combination of grace and hesitation. Lust danced across his skin.
“That’s how it works.” He kept his voice smooth and steady.
She pulled her chopsticks from their wrapper and snapped them apart. She tried to balance them between her fingers and thumb, but fumbled.
“Like this.” He demonstrated how to hold them and pinch the ends together.
“You say it like it’s an easy thing.” She fiddled with the chopsticks for several seconds, the tip of her tongue caught between her teeth. One of the sticks clattered to the table, and she huffed.
He picked up the fallen utensil and covered her hand with his, helping her hold her fingers correctly. “Better?”
“No.” She dropped them again the moment he pulled away. A short laugh slipped out. “Maybe I’ll just go with a fork.”
From there, conversation slid toward the mundane. Each time he asked her a question meant to draw her out, she deflected back to him, with something tame. Was he enjoying his trip? How was the weather here?
A soft chime echoed from Fiona’s purse, and she grabbed her phone. She scowled as she stared at the screen.
“Everything all right?” Wyatt asked.
She showed him the text message with Parker’s name at the top. You be back soon? I’m still working, but we can watch movies while I half-ass edits.
She pulled the device away, typed something, a
nd then dropped it in her purse.
“What did you tell him?”
She met Wyatt’s gaze, green eyes shadowed with something he couldn’t identify. “That his videos were more important, and I’d leave him in peace. Or, if you prefer, I’m good. Catch up with you later.”
“Ouch. You not a fan of movies?”
“It’s not that.” She poked at a drop of mustard on her plate. “But if I’m watching movies with someone, I’d rather they were watching too, and not using me as a warm body.”
Wyatt kept his shock from his face at the casual way she tossed out using me. “I have movies in my room.”
“Last time I went back to your room, things got weird.”
But in a spectacular way, as far as he was concerned. “And they might again, but we’re not drunk, you’re capable of thinking for yourself without the chaperone, and this isn’t some poorly wrapped euphemism. What kind of movies do you like?”
“Action-horror sci-fi.”
The oddly specific genre almost made him smile, but he forced himself to frown instead.
“What?”
He shrugged. “Fifty Shades of Grey is on Cinemax.”
Pink dotted her cheeks.
That was worth it. “I’m teasing. This time.” He winked. “You pick, and I’m serious about that. Vampires. Black ops. Marvel. There’s probably something on with Jason Statham or Sylvester Stallone... What do you say?”
The way she chewed her bottom lip as seconds ticked away sank into his veins and heightened his anticipation. He didn’t know how she had this effect on him, but he was looking forward to the long game of finding out.
Chapter Twelve
When Fiona said, “All right, I’m in,” Wyatt’s anticipation scaled from hopeful to rock hard.
He paid for dinner, stood, and offered his hand. “Hotel’s across the street.”
“That’s convenient.” Her tone was dry, but amusement glinted in her eyes. Her fingers were smooth and soft against his palm, tempting him with notions of where else he’d like to feel her touch. She pulled away sooner than he would have liked.
“Intentionally so. It’s within walking distance of a lot of good restaurants.”
The warm night air didn’t cool the need scorching across Wyatt’s skin. After a week of wheeling and dealing and negotiating with the local outlet, he needed a night for him. He rested a hand at the small of Fiona’s back, to point her in the right direction, and let his touch linger when she leaned into it.
They stepped into an empty elevator. An impulse snaked through him to press her against the wall and explore what lay beneath that gauzy black top. Long game. He had to remember the point was to set their Grammie’s contract on a path toward crashing and burning. Getting laid was a bonus, not the goal.
The car stopped on his floor, and she fell into step beside him on the short walk to his room, arm brushing his. He unlocked the door and held it open for her. “My temporary and humble abode.”
“I know the feeling.” She stepped inside, hovering in the entryway. “Does it get old?”
“What’s that?” He brushed past her, stripping off his tie and undoing the top button on his shirt. He slipped off his shoes. “Make yourself comfortable, by the way.”
She stepped out of her flats and lined them next to each other near the closet. “Spending so much time living in hotel rooms.”
“It’s not bad. I see a new city every week, and I meet fascinating new people I wouldn’t get to know at home.” He met and held her gaze, until she blushed and ducked her head.
The way she wore her emotions on her face was as enticing as the rest of her. “That does sound nice.”
“Parker does the same, doesn’t he? What does he think of it?”
A scowl ghosted across her brow and lips, before a flat mask slid in. “He thinks a lot of things. I wanted a different perspective, though.”
Each time Parker came up, Wyatt’s curiosity grew another notch. What transpired between the two? How to get it out of her without cutting the evening—the overall goal—short? He’d work on that. “Can I get you anything?”
“I’m good.”
He settled at the head of the bed, back against the wall and legs stretched out. He patted the mattress next to him. “You’ll be more comfortable over here.” I promise—no biting unless you beg. No reason to scare her off.
She hesitated, then moved into the room and sat next to him, leaving several inches between them. It was a start. He grabbed the remote and pulled up the list of pay-per-view movies. “Pick your poison.”
“You can’t rent something. Not for that cost.”
“Why not? The perks of an expense account.”
“It’s so expensive, though.” She took the remote and flipped through the channels until she landed on an explosion. “See? Now we don’t have to decide, and we still get eye candy.”
“I like the way you think.”
Someone raced through the halls of what looked like a spaceship. Wyatt was curious about what they’d landed on, but it might be more fun to figure it out as the movie played.
The character on screen helped two people through the rear door on the ship and ushered them toward the med-bay. The music and frantic action set a tense pace. The man was pale and unsteady on his feet, on the verge of collapse when they helped him onto an examining table. One woman helped strip off his gear, and was examining his back when spikes perforated his skin and sprayed her with blood.
She panicked and backed from the room, locking her shipmates inside.
Fucking stupid.
Fiona made a pft sound.
Wyatt raised a brow, and glanced at her. “Something on your mind?”
“Nah. I don’t want to ruin the movie.”
“You can’t say something like that and expect me not to push for answers.” Did she have the same issues with it that he did?
She rolled her eyes. “Fine. She locked them in quarantine. She’s got bodily fluid on her face and is running around the ship screaming, but she locked them in quarantine.”
“Right?” He glanced back at the same woman stumbling then collapsing from whatever the contagion was, and grabbing a gun from the weapon’s cache. “And they’re encouraging the rest of their crew to return to the ship? Burn the thing to the ground.”
“Exactly.” The movie continued to play. “And the mothership, with more than two-thousand people on board, is going to breach atmosphere, to save one person who’s probably lethally infected and risk the lives of the entire population in the process?”
“No discipline.” Wyatt agreed. This was more fun than watching the movie. As it continued, he and Fiona picked apart every detail.
“Oh, come on,” she said with mock exasperation. “That’s David. How do you not know that’s David?”
He laughed at her frustration, and moved on the mattress to face her. She was much better scenery than the movie. “Give the woman a break. She’s been traumatized.”
“Because she’s an undisciplined officer.” The fight bled from Fiona’s voice when she looked up at him. Her mouth was twisted with amusement that reflected in her eyes.
Definitely better than the movie. “Bad movie. Horrible movie. Now I feel like a poor host.”
“You didn’t force me to watch it. But I do kind of wish I could forget it.”
He rested his hand on the back of her neck. “I know how to do that. At least temporarily.”
“How?” She licked her lips, leaving a shine.
He could have this and still play the long game. It was easy to convince himself of that, with his cock digging into his zipper and her breath falling against the inside of his arm. “Like this.” He kissed her.
She hesitated, and his brain stalled, but then she leaned into him, hand on his chest, pressing her mouth to his. Desire sang through his veins. This was better than he remembered. She parted her lips, and he slid his tongue in, to dance with hers.
Each gasp she let out was anothe
r shard, feeding his growing need. He knotted his fingers in her hair, holding her prisoner and diving into her.
She gripped his shirt in her fist and moaned against his mouth. If he broke contact, it would leave room to think, but he only wanted to feel. Everything. As if reading his mind, she straddled his legs.
If she lowered herself, she’d feel the length of his erection dig into her. He dragged his tongue down her neck, and she tilted her head to allow a better angle.
She settled into his lap and gave a half-chuckle when she pressed against his cock. Her gentle rocking sent pleasure spilling through him, until it tightened in his gut and traveled to his balls.
He slid his free hand under her shirt and up her bare stomach, cupped her breast, and dragged his thumb over the fabric of her bra and the hard nub underneath. When she moaned and arched her back to get closer to his touch, her heat engulfed his shaft.
Fuck—he wanted to bury himself inside her.
He slid his hand to her back, to unsnap her bra.
“Stop.” Her voice was breathless. She rested a hand on his wrist and pushed him back. Lust shadowed the green of her eyes as she looked at him. “I’m sorry.”
Sorry was a pale descriptor for what he felt. Apparently she wasn’t as enthralled as he’d hoped. He struggled to find his voice. “Is something wrong?” It took the last of his willpower to keep the words even.
“I can’t use you like this.”
If the blood hadn’t rushed from his head, he’d laugh at the notion and the way she applied it. “It’s okay.” He needed her off his lap, though. Hands on her hips, he prompted her to move.
“I’m sorry,” she said again, as she knelt next to him. With her fingers intertwined, hands tucked into her lap, and gaze cast down, she was still sexy as hell, but now in a submissive way.
“You don’t have to apologize. You don’t owe me anything because you came up here. Or because I bought you dinner.”
She managed half a smile but wouldn’t meet his gaze. “I’m lucky you’re a gentleman.”
She had no idea.
His cock was raw with need, and his balls ached, but he shoved the gnawing desire aside. “I promise to keep my hands to myself if you want to stay.” Why did he say that? He needed to see her on her way, jerk off, and pass out.
Red Hunted_An MFM Ménage Romance Page 8
