Asking for Trouble (3 page)

Brent’s hands moved down her back to mold her bottom with rough palms. “Patience, duchess. I haven’t gotten my fill of touching you yet.” He boosted her higher against the door. “Before I let you restrain me, I’m going to make damn sure you’re too revved up to stop.”

His mouth seized hers once more. This time, she could feel more urgency behind the kiss, reflected in the rigid lines of his body. It only drove her need higher. Clinging to his shoulders, she let his frenzied mouth slant over hers several times. She broke away with a moan, her resolve slipping drastically under the onslaught of sensations. If she could just get the handcuffs on him, she could stop him from overwhelming her.

“You’re right,” she whispered. “We should have some fun first.” She dropped to her knees. Let her hands wander up those muscular thighs.

Above her, Brent’s breathing deepened, kicked up into a faster pace. “Only for a little while. Then I find out what’s beneath that skirt.”

With a dutiful nod, she unbuttoned his fly. Even nuzzled her cheek against his rigid erection and smiled when he sucked in a quick breath. He laced his fingers through her hair and tilted his hips toward her mouth. “Uh-uh,” she admonished. “No touching.”

“Sure, baby.” He put his hands behind his back and closed his eyes. “If that’s the way you like it.”

As soon as his hands crossed behind him, she carefully slipped the handcuffs from her purse and slapped them onto his wrists. Hearing his low curse, she gained her feet, taking a moment to savor the sight of him, all that commanding power harnessed. By her. “Looks like somebody just got handled.”

“Take them off,” he ground out. “I’m not done with you yet.”

Hayden pretended to consider the idea. “Hmm. No.”

Brent cursed under his breath. “So what’s your evil plan? Take blackmail photos to amuse your simpering friends at your next themed tea party?”

“Tea parties are very last season. Try to keep up.” She sauntered forward, walking him backward with gentle nudges of her hand until he fell back onto the cushioned bench placed along the far wall of the foyer. He gave her a look of warning, one she’d never seen on his face before. It gave her momentary pause, but did nothing to sway her intentions. Using his broad shoulders for balance, she straddled him on the bench, remaining standing on her knees and putting her breasts at eye level.

Hayden could see his anger battling with arousal. But he kept his pissed-off gaze resolutely on her face. Until she started unbuttoning her blouse. Picking up where she’d left off at the bar, she popped each button out slowly, methodically, until she had his rapt attention. His throat worked as he swallowed heavily, tongue licking out to wet his lips with each inch of skin she revealed. Power surged through Hayden. She had two hundred and fifty pounds of rugged male between her legs. And she had complete control. She drew her unbuttoned blouse over her shoulders and let it fall to the floor, leaving her in a crimson lace bra.

“I’ve got news for you,” he rasped, eyes blazing. “Seeing your breasts is not the worst form of punishment.”

“It will be,” she said huskily, undoing the front hook of her bra. “Because seeing them is all you get. And, Brent?” She kissed him fast and hard. “I’ve got a fabulous pair. So that’s really going to suck for you.”

Hayden parted the crimson material and revealed her breasts. Brent made a strangled noise and lurched forward on the bench, as though he couldn’t restrain himself. She dodged his mouth at the last second, staving him off with two hands on his shoulders. Still, he didn’t look away from her naked chest, mouth working as if he could already taste her. His unchecked reaction made hunger spread through her system like fire. Gone was the cocky son of a bitch she’d come to know. He looked like a starving man eyeing his last meal.

“Scoot forward,” he asked in a gravelly voice. “Just a little. I promise I’ll suck them so good for you. So good.”

His words enticed her like mad. It would be so easy to pretend the conflict between them didn’t exist and they were simply two people who desperately needed pleasure. She
needed
his mouth on her, she realized. Tempting him beyond control would be more difficult than she thought. In the process, she herself was being tempted.
Don’t give him the satisfaction of knowing how thoroughly he’s affecting you.

Hayden took a deep breath and shook her head. “Sorry, big boy. Not going to happen.” She gave in to the impulse to tease his neck with a kiss, but he turned his head at the last second and caught her mouth. This kiss felt different. Persuasive, entreating. As if he’d finally started taking this encounter seriously. It made her desperate to squeeze her legs together, but they were spread wide on either side of his hips. When she heard herself moan low in her throat, she broke away.

Between them, her nipples pouted, begging for Brent’s attention. Before she could stop him, he leaned forward and sucked one into his mouth, rolling it on his tongue and groaning. Then he pulled back just a little and blew on it gently. Hayden’s eyelids drooped, her lips parted. She felt each sensual movement of his tongue in every secret place on her body. His gaze met hers, looking for any sign of protest. He seemed to know how close she was to caving because when he spoke, his dark sincerity was tangible. “Listen, you got one over on me. Well played, baby. But we’re entering new territory now. Are you sure you want to tease my cock like this?” He sat forward, letting his chest graze the tips of her breasts. His teeth tugged on her earlobe, making her shiver. “Because I won’t be in these handcuffs forever. When I get out of them, I’m going to remember everything you do to me tonight.”

Hayden swallowed. “Is that supposed to scare me?”

He scrutinized her face a moment. “Look at you. You’re already scared. Afraid of a little pleasure, duchess? Worried you might actually like my middle-class mouth on you?”

She knew his intentions were to rile her up. Spark her temper. It worked. Once again, the need to prove he knew nothing about her rose to the surface. And maybe a tiny part of her recognized the accuracy of his words. Maybe she
was
afraid of pleasure. The kind of pleasure Brent might provide.

Her hands went to the hem of her skirt, drawing his attention away from her face. Very slowly, she slid the taut material up her thighs, revealing more and more of her black fishnet stockings. She watched as Brent shifted in front of her, hips tilting, chest shuddering. When she reached the point where her tights ended and she paused, he made a sound of protest. “Show me. You want to torture me? Fine. Just show me what’s at the top of those fucking stockings.”

Feeling a slight head rush over his fervent request, Hayden dragged the skirt higher and left it bunched around her hips. Apart from the rapid movements of his chest, Brent remained very still in front of her, his gaze fastened on the tops of her thighs where a crimson lace garter belt attached itself to her tights. She could see his arousal, thick and long, bulging against the zipper of his pants. She’d done that to him. Again, the heady rush of power made her bold. She stroked her hands down his chest, and circled her hips a little to show him what he couldn’t have.

“I knew it.” His gravelly voice startled her. “You walk around all day hiding fancy panties behind those expensive clothes, but you never let anyone have a taste of what’s underneath.” He ground his teeth together. “I think you’re the one who needs to be taught a lesson.”

“You think you know what I need?” She let her fingers brush over the tips of her breasts, smiling when he issued a strangled groan. “Enlighten me.”

“Right now?” His gaze dropped once more to the material shielding her core. He gave a single, quick shake of his head. “You need a good tongue-fucking, duchess.”

Breath whooshed from her lungs, and her legs began to shake. She’d never been spoken to in such a way and the rawness of it battered her senses. The ache between her thighs had turned insistent, demanding. All the energy, the nerves that had built up inside her needed release.
Now.
She looked at Brent to find him watching her, analyzing, holding his breath. Without waiting for her answer, he slid forward, nearly toppling her off the bench. Gasping, she braced her hands on the wall and lifted her hips to accommodate his body as it dropped to the floor. He came to rest with his head on the padded bench, and her thighs straddling his face—a position so erotic, her breath felt trapped in her throat.

“Slide your knees just a little wider, baby,” he instructed. “Come and get your lesson.”

What remained of her pride told her not to follow his arrogant command, but the painfully aroused part of her beat it back. She needed this. Involuntarily, her legs moved wider on the bench. When his mouth latched onto her, sucking her clitoris through the material, she cried out and grabbed the back of the bench for support. “Oh, God.
Oh, God
.”

“Lose the fucking panties and I can have you screaming those words.”

She looked down, wondering how she could take her underwear off without standing and losing the drugging effect of his mouth. “H-how?”

“
Rip them
,” he growled. “Believe me, if you hadn’t cuffed me, I’d do it myself.”

After a short pause wherein she wondered if she could do something so desperate, Hayden reached down and wrapped her fingers around the fragile silk. Then she ripped them off.

It felt amazing.

“Good girl.”

She gripped the back of the bench tightly once more as Brent savored her in one, long lick. Then he returned to torture the pulsing bundle of nerves. He worried her clitoris between his lips, sucking gently, then tonguing the spot with tight, fast circles. On either side of his head, her thighs quivered so violently that the bench shook. She could feel a swift release coming, but didn’t want the sensations to peak so soon. She wanted to savor. But when he sank his tongue deep inside her, searching her inner walls for that mysterious spot and finding it, finding it,
finding it
, she imploded. Fingers latched onto the bench, she writhed against his mouth as he wrung every ounce of pleasure from her trembling body.

“Brent! Oh my God,
Brent!
”

He turned his head and sank his teeth into her inner thigh. “Get the fuck down here, duchess. I need to be ridden.”

She practically melted off the bench and onto his lap. Their mouths met in a wet, frantic kiss that made them both groan. Her fingers went to work unzipping his pants, taking a second to palm and squeeze his straining erection. His hips bucked into her hand, telling her how badly he needed his own release. She couldn’t think beyond giving it to him. Taking more for herself in the process.

“You have no idea what I’d do to you right now if my hands were free.” He bit her bottom lip and tugged. “Right now, I’d be fingering your gorgeous pussy. Massaging that spot that got you to scream my name. Then I’d pick you up by your sweet little ass and sink you right down on top of me.”

Her heartbeat pounded wildly in her ears, hands shaking as she finally freed his erection. He looked so incredibly full, smooth. Ripe. Hayden had the sudden, overwhelming urge to bring him to climax with her mouth.

When he saw her intention, his green eyes flashed urgently. “Fuck me with your mouth, baby. I’ll do anything for it. Let me inside your sexy mouth.”

She dipped her head, let it hover just above the tip of him.

And then the doorbell rang.

Chapter Three

Please. No, no, no. For the love of God, no.

Brent watched in stunned disbelief and utter horror as Hayden’s rosy, well-kissed lips retreated from their position just above his cock and her head jerked toward the door. Awareness intruded on her features where there had been none just seconds before.
No, no, no
, his mind chanted on repeat.

He ached. Holy fuck, he ached. In a completely unexpected twist, the ice princess had turned out to be a blistering-hot sex goddess who’d barely even hesitated when he told her to rip off her own panties. She’d bested him at his own game, stripped for him, giving him a glimpse at the most insanely delicious body he’d ever had the pleasure of seeing up close. And then…
Christ
…the way she’d worked herself on his mouth…he would absolutely, 100 percent be storing that image for future use. He needed her to climb on and finish what they’d started. Didn’t think he’d ever walk upright again until she did.

Please, if anyone up there is listening. If you make whoever is on the other side of that door go away, I will give up watching baseball. Cheesesteaks. Fuck it. Beer. Anything. Just as long as she wraps those legs around my waist and finishes what we started.

“Hayden, look at me,” he ordered, dragging her attention back to him. He lost his train of thought for a second when she turned to him, all swollen lips, messy hair, and passion-glazed eyes. She looked like a completely different girl from the one he’d walked in with. A fleeting thought swam through his mind.
This girl is twice as dangerous as smart-mouthed, uptight Hayden.
He shook his head quickly to clear it. “I don’t give a good goddamn who is on the other side of that door. I’m in pain, woman. Fix it.”

The hand still resting on his thigh tightened as if to soothe. She moved in toward him, gaze fixed on his mouth.
Yes, yes, yes. Please. Just a little closer.

“
Hayden?
”

She froze. “Oh, freaking shitballs, it’s my mother.”

Handcuffed and with a hard-on to cut steel, Brent almost,
almost,
started to cry. Game, set, match. Nothing killed a woman’s mood like her mother. His theory was proven two seconds later when Hayden stumbled to her feet and danced around as though looking for somewhere to hide him.

“Good luck finding somewhere to stuff my six-foot-five ass.”

“Keep your voice down! And I can think of a
few
things I’d like to stuff in your ass.” Wringing her hands, she shook her head. “That came out wrong. You know what I meant.”

“Sure I do. You’ve got a fetish. I totally get it.” He nodded toward the door and gave a quick chuckle to hide his arousal avalanche. After all, she was, for all intents and purposes, prancing around in front of him naked, no bra, no panties, skirt hiked up to her waist.
Kill me now
. “What’s the play, duchess? You going to introduce me?”

Knock, knock. “
Hayden!
Are you in there?
”

Tentatively, she walked toward the door, pulling her skirt back down to her knees as she went. Unmanly tears threatened once more as he watched her beautifully shaped ass disappear from view.
I’ll never forget you, ass.
Don’t forget to write.

“H-hey, Mom. I’m here.”

A pause. “So then open the door, Hayden. I’m standing out here like a ninny.”

“I, uh, can’t open the door. I have the flu.” She coughed. “I don’t want to give it to you.” Brent rolled his eyes and she flipped him the bird without even turning around.

“The flu! But we have that dinner party tomorrow night at Stuart Nevin’s house. We told him weeks ago you’d be attending. He’s looking forward to seeing you again.”

Brent watched Hayden’s posture deflate, her head drop forward against the door with a
thud
. Obviously she wasn’t looking quite as forward to seeing this Stuart. Who was the guy, anyway? Probably some rich asshole with a bank account that could sink an oil tanker. He felt a flash of annoyance over having used even an ounce of brainpower to think about
Stuart
. Or whether or not he’d ever taken Hayden out on a date. Or whether
Stuart
had ever been treated to Hayden’s Freaktastic Peep Show.

“I think it’s just a twenty-four-hour bug.” Cough. “I should be fine by tomorrow.”

“Drink plenty of fluids and rest. I’ll come by in the morning.” A loud sigh. “I hope this isn’t just another ploy to avoid the poor man, Hayden. He’s very successful, you know. You’re very lucky he’s interested in you.”

Brent’s eyebrows rose at that backhanded insult, but Hayden couldn’t see him. Her spine had stiffened, no doubt mortified over him overhearing this private conversation. He couldn’t blame her. They tended to use every ounce of ammunition at their disposal against each other. She likely assumed this would be no exception. Then and there, Brent decided he wouldn’t use this particular bit of ammo, ever. He didn’t, however, intend to explore the
why
behind his decision. Only knew that it wouldn’t feel honorable.

“Lucky. Huh.” She smoothed a hand over her hair in a familiar gesture. Right in front of his eyes, he watched her transform back into the ice princess. Her back straightened, she tucked her hair neatly behind her ears and crossed her arms over her breasts. “See you in the morning, Mother. Sleep well.”

“Good night, Hayden. No alcohol tonight. It makes your face puffy.” Hayden didn’t respond as Brent listened to the sound of her mother’s heels clicking down the front steps. She snatched her bra off the ground in front of him and put it on, her motions jerky. Next came the shirt.
Bye-bye tatas.

When she’d finished dressing, she pierced him with a look. “What? No comments from the peanut gallery? You’ve gone thirty seconds without shooting your mouth off. It’s got to be some kind of record. Shall I call Guinness?”

Clearly, she needed a fight. Something to take her mind off the conversation with her mother. In his current state, he was all too happy to give it to her. “Maybe you should call a goddamn shrink, instead. You’ve got me handcuffed here with my family jewels hanging out, in case you somehow forgot. And you think you have any grounds to be pissed off? If I recall correctly, one of us had a screaming orgasm and it sure as shit wasn’t me.”

Her face reddened, probably matching his own. Her mother had upset her, then he’d finished the job by completely knocking the wind out her sails. Why he suddenly gave two shits about her mood, he couldn’t decide.

He cleared his throat. “Listen, Hayden—”

She held up a finger to quiet him. “Hold on. I just had an idea.”

“Oh, really? Does it involve releasing me from unconstitutional imprisonment?”

“No.” She pursed her lips. “What are you doing tomorrow night?”

“Why are you asking?”

“You like dinner parties?”

He threw his head back and laughed. “Me? Dressing up in a monkey suit and listening to your friends’ amusing stories about their latest tropical vacation? Not going to happen, duchess.”

Hayden shrugged off his rejection. “Fine. Thought you might relish the chance to crash one of the stuffy, overblown snooze-fests you’re always teasing me about.” She smoothed her skirt again. “I guess eating your weight in caviar and dropping backhanded insults on a bunch of rich stiffs doesn’t appeal to you.”

“Let’s pretend for a moment that
did
appeal to me. What would be in it for you?”

“I get you as my bodyguard for the evening,” she replied simply.

Brent’s smile disappeared. Something unpleasant moved in his chest. “Why the hell would you need a bodyguard?”

Hayden waved off his serious tone. “I don’t
need
one, per se. However, I’d like someone to keep Stuart away.”

Brent could practically see the wheels spinning in her head, and braced for whatever would come next.

“If you happen to be your loud, irreverent self while we’re there, thus pissing my mother off in the process? Well, I probably wouldn’t mind that either.”

“I see,” he responded, berating himself for not anticipating the request. “You want to bring the working-class jackass from Queens along for your own personal amusement.”

Her lips parted, she shook her head. “Wait—”

“Unlock the goddamn handcuffs. Now. The keys are in my pocket.”

After a brief hesitation, she knelt down beside him. As she fished the keys from his pocket, their gazes met, but she quickly looked away. Having her close, her soft hand moving inside his pants, stiffened his cock once more, only serving to inflate his anger further.

She gasped when she saw that part of him stir, as though it should come as a surprise when he’d been primed for sex only minutes earlier. With the keys in her hand, she moved to unlock the handcuffs, then stopped. “When I take them off, you’re not going to…I mean…”

“What? Throw you down on the floor and see if you fuck as hot as you kiss?” When she flinched a little, he reined himself in with a deep breath. “No. Even blue-collar jackasses have some boundaries. You’re safe.”

When his hands were finally free, he snatched the cuffs from her and carefully zipped his pants. He needed to get some air, clear his head. Which wouldn’t be happening around her. As he yanked his shirt over his head, an idea of his own began to form. She expected him to show up to her ritzy party, acting like a knuckle-dragging ape? Hell, maybe he
would
put on a show. Just not the one she expected. Brent made sure the smile on his face stayed well hidden as he turned back to her, one hand on the doorknob.

“I don’t have a suit. If you can get one in my size—and
good luck
with that, by the way—I’ll go to your fancy dinner party tomorrow.”

Her mouth fell open. “Wh-what?”

“Let me know. And Hayden?” He dangled her ripped panties in the air. “Later tonight, when I’m alone in my bed, stroking one out and thinking of the way you came like a freight train on my mouth, I’m going to make very good use of these.”