I Brake For Bad Boys (18 page)

While his mind screamed at him to thrust and follow her into the sweet oblivion her body promised, something within him rebelled. She was going too fast, her actions too detached, and as ridiculous as it seemed, he felt used, alone, and separate from this woman who was physically a part of him. She was intent on giving herself her own orgasm, the intimate connection he wanted and needed from her was nonexistent, and he knew it was all deliberate on her part.

The fantasy she'd created, of picking up a stranger in a bar, allowed for no sentiments or anything remotely emotional. They hadn't even kissed, which was one of the most intimate expressions of a physical joining. To her, this was all about sex. Or so she was trying to convince herself in her attempt to take charge of the fantasy, and her response to him.

As she continued to touch herself and ride him in an increasing tempo, he realized exactly what she was doing. Just as he'd always insisted on being in control during sex to maintain an emotional distance during his past affairs, Jill was using the same technique to keep
her
true feelings from him. The irony of the situation didn't escape him, and he realized he didn't like being on the receiving end. Not when Jill had come to mean more to him than a casual, temporary affair.

Refusing to let their relationship end so superficially, he gripped her waist to hold her still so he could redirect the fantasy. But she was so caught up in her own personal pleasure that there was nothing he could do to stop the orgasm rippling through her except hold on to his own restraint for all he was worth and wait for her climax to end, which nearly killed him.

With a sated sigh, she collapsed on top of him, her soft breasts crushing against his chest, and her hot, panting breath fanning his neck. Taking advantage of her pliable state, he wrapped one arm tight around her back, secured another beneath her bottom, and rolled them both so that she was pinned beneath the weight of his body, putting
him
back in control.

Their bodies were still intimately joined, and he widened her thighs with his own and flexed his hips, lodging his throbbing cock deep inside her. After her self-induced orgasm she was snug, gripping the length of him like a slick fist. He resisted the instinctive urge to drive mindlessly into her.

She sucked in a quick, startled breath, and there was no disguising the panic that flared to life in her eyes. “Eric . . .” Her voice trembled, and her hands shoved at his shoulders in an attempt to dislodge him, all to no avail.

He brushed a gentle kiss across her cheek. “Shhh,” he soothed, understanding her fear, but knowing she'd given him little choice in how to handle the ending of tonight's final fantasy. Grabbing the hands digging into his muscled flesh, he placed them at the side of her head and entwined their fingers. “I'm not done yet, and neither are you,” he murmured.

And then he began to move inside her, his thrusts strong and sure, matching the uncharacteristic hammering of his pulse. Jill turned her head to the side and closed her eyes, trying to protect her emotions, he knew, and he refused to let her shut him out that way. She remained stubborn and defiant, a challenge he wasn't about to lose. Not here. Not now. Not tonight.

As he continued to pump into her, he lowered his head, nuzzled her neck, and whispered in her ear how good she felt around him, how perfectly they fit together. He told her he wanted to watch her come for him, with him, and how much he ached to feel her inner muscles milking him to completion.

A soft whimper escaped her, and his heart gave a strange twist in his chest. He kissed her jaw, the corner of her mouth, needing so much more than she was giving him. “Look at me, Jill.
Please.
”

Much to his surprise, she turned her head and her long lashes lifted, revealing the sheen of moisture filling her eyes. His gut clenched, and he knew her tears weren't designed to manipulate a man. No, hers were genuine and told of her confusion, her fears and insecurities. She blinked, and a tear escaped. He kissed it away, then pressed his mouth softly, gently, to hers.

Her lips parted, her tongue sought his, and her tentative surrender nearly undid him. He accepted her invitation to deepen the kiss, as well as lengthen his thrusts and build the delicious friction between them. He knew her body well, and used everything he'd learned about pleasing her to increase her pleasure. In time, she softened beneath him, hooked her legs over his hips, and gave herself to him with abandon. He recognized the soft, mewling sounds she made in the back of her throat, felt those wondrous contractions clamping around him, squeezing his shaft, and another stroke later he lost himself in the sea of wild sensation he'd held at bay just for her.

He circled his hips, grinding against her sex, and she came with him, her soft cries intensifying the orgasm spearing through him. He groaned into her mouth, a deep, resonant, soulful sound that no other woman had ever pulled from him in the throes of passion. In that moment, he knew Jill was
the one.
In every way.

And he didn't want her to leave tonight, because it would signify the end to
them.

Dragging his lips from hers, he stared into her brilliant green eyes, and took a huge risk. “Stay the night with me.”

The light in her eyes faded, and he felt her withdraw from him and his request. She didn't verbally answer him, but his hopes dwindled anyway. He wouldn't try to coerce her any further; she had to stay on her own accord, because
she
wanted to.

He moved off her. “I'll be back in a few minutes,” he said, and disappeared into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. He took care of business, but didn't rush back out. Instead, he splashed cool water on his face, giving Jill extra time to make her decision, even though he knew what choice she'd already made and that she would be gone when he returned to his room.

For once, he hated being right.

Coming into work Friday morning to pack up her things was one of the hardest things Jill ever had to do. Especially since it meant facing Eric and the cowardly way she'd snuck out on him the night before. But staying beyond the fantasy meant confronting her greatest fears and insecurities, of getting involved with a man and letting her emotions interfere with the goals she'd set for herself and her agency. Eric presented a conflict to both, and she'd accepted the rules of their fantasy world for a reason, so it would make walking away easier, without any expectations or promises to complicate the issue.

She just wished she was one of those sophisticated women who could have an affair, enjoy the physical aspect of the relationship and carnal, erotic pleasures, and leave her heart out of the matter.

Obviously, she was not.

“No regrets,” she muttered to herself as she placed her coffee mug into her small packing box. She'd chanted those words a hundred times since she'd crawled into her own bed last night, battling an onslaught of emotions and tears. Regrets were good for nothing, and she'd never been one to wallow in self-pity. She wouldn't do so now.

A brisk knock sounded at her office door—or what had temporarily been her office at Massey and Associates—and she glanced up, locking gazes with the man who'd consumed her thoughts for the past twelve hours. He strolled into her office, looking sexy and gorgeous in a neatly pressed button-down shirt and creased khakis, and his hair tousled around his head. She was grateful to see that there wasn't so much as a glimmer of accusation in his eyes for the way she'd left him last night.

“I have something for you,” he said, stopping on the other side of her desk.

Her heart picked up its beat, much too hopeful for her liking, until she realized he was holding a window envelope out to her and she could see her name imprinted on a company check. Her bonus money. Of course.

“Thank you.” Reaching out, she retrieved her check, which represented financial breathing room for her own agency, along with the end of her freelance job with Massey, and her relationship with Eric.

Pushing his hands into the front pockets of his pants, he tipped his head, his grin charming and boyish. “Are you sure I can't change your mind about staying?”

His double meaning was shrewd and unmistakable, combining the offer from Massey to remain with the firm, and his own desires to extend their affair. While she recognized his dual question for what it was, he didn't cross any of those boundaries they'd agreed upon about not bringing their affair up at work. To keep business and pleasure separate. Not unless
she
chose to do so.

She glanced away from his compelling eyes that could weaken her resolve if she let them, and tucked the envelope into her purse. “I'm sure,” she said, her answer encompassing both requests. She wasn't changing her mind about either.

Disappointment passed over his features, but he gave a short nod of understanding and turned to go. Halfway to the door, he stopped and turned back around. “Would you like to go out sometime?”

Startled by his question, she stammered, “On . . . on a date?”

“There seems to be a certain chemistry between us,” he said, speaking as though they'd never discovered just how combustible the two of them were together. That the last two weeks of incredible pleasure hadn't existed. “So, I thought a date would be a good place to start. We could go out to dinner and get to know one another better.”

A casual date.
His way of making it clear that he wanted to pursue their relationship—
out
of the bedroom. She shook her head, and tried to speak around the knot of fear tightening her throat. “I'm sorry, but no.” She'd learned more about him, his life and family, than she'd ever intended to. Any more, and she might not be able to walk away.

He accepted her reply gracefully, and without further prompting. “I guess I'll see you at the celebratory party for the Enchanted Cruise Line next Saturday, then?”

She'd debated about declining the invitation from Massey to welcome their new client into the firm's fold, but in the end couldn't bring herself to say no. She wanted to leave the company in good standing, and since she'd been such a big part of the campaign and she'd pitched the presentation, she also knew that Enchanted would expect her to be at the celebratory bash.

“Yes, I'll be there,” she told him, even knowing it would be sheer torture being in the same room with him for those few hours, watching him mingle and flash that sexy grin of his, and make small talk with her.

“Great. I'll see you there.”

And then he was gone, leaving her to finish packing up her things, along with her aching heart.

 

 

“What has you so down in the dumps, little brother?” Steve asked, scrutinizing Eric's mood from across the patio table at their parents' house, where the family was gathered for a Sunday afternoon barbecue. “I don't think I've ever seen our happy-go-lucky brother so distracted before.”

Adrian eyed Eric speculatively, as well, as he popped the top off his second bottle of beer. “I have to agree. Even Mom mentioned that you're unusually quiet today, and she's worried about you.”

Eric resisted the urge to tell his brothers to back off and stop with the third degree, but knew that would just make them more determined to discover the cause of his mood. Steve, being a private detective, loved analyzing the slightest enigma until he finally figured out the source of the problem. And Adrian was just plain nosy and didn't need much of an excuse to give their youngest sibling a hard time.

“There's nothing for anyone to worry about.” He scooped up a handful of the pretzels his mother had put on the table for them to snack on while their father barbecued the steaks on the grill. “I just have a lot on my mind.”

A sly grin lifted the corners of Adrian's mouth. “It's that same woman that had you so on edge the night we played racquetball, isn't it?” Knowing he'd guessed accurately, he shook his head in disgust. “No woman is worth all this grief and misery you're putting yourself through.”

Yes, she was. And Eric proved it. “Her name is Jill Richardson.”

Steve's brows rose in surprise. “Wow, we actually get a name?”

Adrian sputtered on the drink of beer he was swallowing and coughed a few times to clear his throat. “Holy shit,” he exclaimed once he recovered. “We
never
get a name! This must be serious.”

“Watch your mouth over there, Adrian,” their father, Paul, piped up from his position at the grill a few yards away. “You know how your mother feels about you boys cussing.”

Adrian winced at being caught, but appeared grateful that their mother was in the house preparing the side dishes. “Sorry,” he muttered.

Steve snickered, and Eric hid a grin, too.

Even though they were all grown men, a “potty mouth” was something their mother still didn't tolerate from her sons. At least not in her presence. Adrian was fortunate that only their father had heard him, or else Angela Wilde would be serving them all a lecture along with dinner about how no respectable woman liked a man who cursed all the time. Not that Adrian, or even Steve, were in the market for a respectable woman.

As for Eric, he'd finally found a woman
he
respected, intellectually and physically, only to find himself on the receiving end of a brush-off. When he'd given Jill her check Friday afternoon, he'd attempted to pursue their relationship, only to have his invitation for a real date turned down. He figured that Jill was still in denial, still clinging to fears and insecurities, and hoped that it was just a matter of time before she trusted in what they'd shared together.

Then again, time was his biggest enemy, he knew. The more days that passed, the easier it would be for the emotional distance between them to grow, until their affair was nothing more than a distant memory. Unfortunately, he didn't know what else he could do to change Jill's mind.

Adrian leaned across the table and lowered his voice. “Jesus, Eric, if you're not careful, the next thing you know you'll be bringing her home to meet Mom and Dad and the family.” Adrian shuddered at the thought.

He would have enjoyed bringing Jill to his parents and sharing his big family with her. “You all would've liked her.”

“Would've?” Steve asked pointedly. “As in past tense?”

Eric tried for a casual shrug, and knew he failed. “Her choice, not mine.”

“
She
dumped
you
?” Adrian asked incredulously. “And now
you're
mourning the loss?”

Eric frowned at his brother's cynical tone. “The split was amicable, and I'm not mourning anything. I just would've liked to have seen where the relationship could have gone.”

“Man, the sex must have been really hot to have you so whipped.” Adrian tipped his beer at Eric in a masculine salute before taking a drink.

Eric wasn't about to share the details of the private, erotic fantasies he and Jill had enacted. Besides, their affair had traversed past the physical, and it was the intimacy that they'd established in the aftermath of their encounters that remained so vivid in his mind.

“Believe it or not, it's more than the great sex that has me hooked,” he admitted, deciding to lay his feelings bare. “She's smart and amusing and beautiful, and I genuinely enjoy being with her. For the first time, I feel as though I've met a woman who's my equal.”

Adrian rocked back on the hind legs of his chair and placed a dramatic hand over the left side of his chest. “Oh, be still my heart.”

Steve's expression turned big-brother stern. “Knock it off, doofus.” Beneath the glass-topped table, Steve shoved the edge of Adrian's seat with his foot, knocking his brother off balance and nearly sending him flipping backward to the wooden deck, which earned him a glare from Adrian. “I'd like to think at least one of us can be lucky at love and happy with a woman. Just because the two of us were burned and have no interest in a permanent relationship doesn't mean that Eric can't make things work with a woman he cares about.”

“Yeah, well, it takes two to make a relationship work,” Eric said, wiping the condensation off his bottle with his fingers.

“That it does,” Steve agreed. “And I've never known you to not go after something you wanted.”

And that's exactly what he'd done two weeks ago when he'd issued Jill the mutually satisfying proposition. He'd wanted her, and he'd gone after her. Little did he know he'd crave more than a brief tryst.

Exhaling a deep breath, he absently pushed his fingers through his hair, watching as his mother exited the house and walked over to his father to give him a clean platter for the steaks. The two of them talked, and his mother smiled at something he said. There was no mistaking the affection in her gaze, or the love and respect between the two of them. His brothers' relationships might have failed for whatever reasons, but his parents were a perfect example of everything that was good and right in a relationship.

Commitment. Trust. Honesty. Being equal partners in all things and the willingness to compromise through good times, and bad. He wanted that with Jill, but how could he expect her to put her heart and emotions on the line when he hadn't done that for her?

He owed it to Jill, and himself, to tell her how he felt about her. To let her know she was special and unique, a woman who complemented him in all ways, and he needed her in his life.

He'd been aggressive in his initial pursuit of Jill and had gotten exactly what he wanted. This time would be no different.

 

 

The following Saturday, Eric stood in the midst of the celebratory party for the Enchanted Cruise Line, watching Jill mingle with the president of the company and other important guests. Feeling anxious to be alone with her, and knowing it might be hours before that happened, he took a sip of his Jack and coke to bide his time.

She'd arrived minutes before the party started, giving them only enough time to exchange polite hellos before her presence was demanded elsewhere and she was whisked away to the other side of the banquet room. During the cocktail hour she kept herself in the thick of things, deliberately keeping her distance, though that didn't stop her gaze from seeking him out when she thought he wouldn't notice. More than a few times he'd caught her looking his way, had even seen glimpses of longing and desire in her eyes before she realized he'd witnessed those emotions and quickly glanced away again.

Knowing she still harbored some kind of feelings for him kept him optimistic, but it was what she'd worn to tonight's party that snagged his attention. Accenting her powder blue skirt suit and cream-colored silk blouse was the double strand of pearls he'd given her, and her long, slender legs were encased in familiar pale stockings that made his groin tighten with vivid memories of how she looked wearing nothing but the provocative lingerie he'd purchased for her. Her choice of undergarments spoke louder than words ever could—that he was still on her mind.

The opportunity to finally seek out Jill presented itself after dinner, when most of the guests flocked out to the dance floor to enjoy the rock music the DJ played. He started toward her, but she saw his approach and managed to exit the room before he reached her and disappeared down the long corridor leading to the ladies' room. Undeterred by her attempt to avoid him, and determined to reach her emotionally this time, he waited a few minutes to make sure no one else headed in the same direction. Then he discreetly slipped inside the women's rest room.