Three Little Words (4 page)

“I know you’re in here. Emily’s looking for you. Something about tip money for the waitstaff.”

A long groan ripped through Greg as instinct and reason battled. Blinking hard, he focused on the top of Josie’s bobbing head and tried to form a coherent thought. His hands opened and closed convulsively, each tug at her scalp a direct result of the war waging inside of him. He knew he should stop her before he came in her beautiful mouth. Wouldn’t be much of a stretch for his best friend to figure out he was getting his dick and his mind blown in this dinky little bathroom stall. If he didn’t he might kiss off any chance he had of having more than this one encounter. This perfect fucking fantasy come to life.

“Greg!” Will barked. “Zip up and get your ass out here.”

“I’m coming,” he called out. Pounding the back of his head against the steel wall, he groaned in defeat. “I’m coming, damn it.”

And he did.

Josie’s big, gorgeous eyes opened wide as he made good on his word with the next thrust. Her cheeks hollowed and her throat worked. The pull of her muscles tugged the last drops from the depths of him. She looked up from under her lashes when she swallowed him, looking like one of those
Penthouse Forum
bits of wishful thinking brought to life in brilliant high definition.

Greg raised his head enough to peer at the woman gripping his thighs. “Sorry. I’m so sorry,” he whispered, hoping the simple apology was enough to cover him for any and all regrets she might attach to this interlude. A tender kiss grazed his hip. She rested her cheek against him and looked up. A shudder passed through him and he ran his hand over her rumpled hair. Their ragged breaths mixed and mingled in the silent room.

Then the hinges on the bathroom door creaked. “Greg?”

Will’s voice was nothing more than a harsh whisper, but wholly unwelcome.

“Get the fuck out,” Greg snarled.

“Ben’s coming down the hall,” his buddy warned. “I’ll try to stall him.” One bright, shiny red shoe skittered across the floor and under the stall door. Awkward tension hummed in the air. At last, Will called a gruff, “Sorry, Josie,” and the hinges hissed shut behind him.

Greg
thunked
his head against the unyielding steel, torn between the urge to cheer or weep. “Shit.” He ran his hand over his face and gave his cheeks a tug. Josie stirred, and he shook off his post-orgasmic haze to help her to her feet. “I’m sorry.”

Josie wagged her head as she smoothed the wrinkles from her dress. Gripping his arm to steady herself, she wriggled her heel into her shoe and looked up at him. “I’m not.”

There was no suppressing his relief. “Good. Thank God.” He planted a fast, hard kiss of gratitude on her swollen lips. “Thank
you
.”

Her answering smile lit her whole face. “You’re welcome,” she returned with prim politeness.

Chuckling, he grabbed for his pants and yanked them up over his hips. “I have to get out there, but we’re not staying much longer.”

She raised an eyebrow as she watched him tuck the crumpled tails of his shirt into his waistband. “We’re not?”

“One drink, maybe another dance.” He shot her a hopeful glance as he managed the hooks and fly. “I’ll do whatever the hell I’m supposed to do to finish this damn thing out, and then we’re out of here.”

“This damn thing?” She tsked. “This is supposed to be the happiest day of your son’s young life.”

Greg buttoned his jacket. He held her hand as he fumbled with the stall door. “I don’t know about him, but young or not, I can tell you it’s one of mine.”

“Dad? You in here?”

He froze then pulled her back. “Be right out.”

Wrapping his arms tight around Josie, he buried his face in her hair and held his breath until he heard the whoosh of pneumatic hinges. Seconds of blessed silence ticked past. At last, she relaxed in his hold. That’s when he discovered her husky voice was even sexier when muffled against his chest.

“I think I should wait here for a little bit.”

He chuckled. “Yeah, probably be best.” Tipping her chin up with his fingers, he gave her a lingering kiss. “I’ll come back to get you. I definitely need another drink.”

She nodded. “We need to make it to three anyway.”

Greg stole one more kiss and slipped out of the stall. The heels of his shoes clicked across the tile floor. He turned back and caught her watching him from the narrow doorway, a smile tugging at her lips.

“Don’t you think you should wash your hands?”

He reached for the door. “Are you kidding me? I may never wash them again.”

She threw her head back and laughed. The throaty rush knocked him off balance, like the blow of a feather pillow to the head. He bought himself a minute to collect his cool by shooting his cuffs from the sleeves of his coat.

“And, Josie? I hope you believe me when I tell you I can’t wait to return the favor.”

Jo closed her eyes as she leaned against the bathroom door. Bad idea. Though her feet were planted firm on the ground, the room started spinning. Unfortunately, the whirling didn’t stop when she opened her eyes again. Proof positive tequila wasn’t the only thing making her head swim.

Gulping a breath, she smoothed her hands over the front of her dress and stepped away from the door. The woman reflected in the mirror above the sinks looked too young and, well, rumpled to be her. She had to admit she looked damn good, messy hair, flushed cheeks, racing pulse, and all.

She tried another cleansing breath, but the movement only made her aching nipples rasp against the fabric of the dress. Ignoring the dampness between her legs was an impossibility. She cast a speculative glance at the trashcan beneath the paper towel dispenser, but tossing her damp panties would eliminate the only barrier she had between the rampant arousal Greg stirred in her and the population at large. Didn’t seem fair to release such a threat on an unsuspecting world.

“Get a grip. Get a grip.”

Three more breaths in and out gave way to a weak attempt to talk her down by her wigged out voice of reason. Her moral fiber hadn’t gotten this much of a workout in years. Neither had her jaw.

Peering at her reflection, she wriggled the joint in question. She’d forgotten that particular ache. The tiny pulls and pains were delicious. The lingering numbness in her lips made her a little proud. Once, back in the days when she was Josie and not just Jo, she’d loved to give head. Hell, there was a time when sucking cock was as natural for her as fucking. There was something intrinsically empowering about the damp, musky scent of masculine arousal. She loved the sensation of hard muscles flexing and bunching. The potency of holding a man’s most vulnerable assets in such a precarious position never failed to get her worked up, and the flood of hot, salty come sliding down her throat made her damn near invincible.

Her fingers rose to her still-swollen lips. Her pussy had tingled when Greg’s self-control unraveled, his pulse rippling on her tongue. She slipped one finger into her mouth, eager to recapture the sensation. The wayward digit mimicked the movement of his cock on her tongue, but the effect wasn’t nearly the same. The self-consciousness she’d hoped to drown with booze came roaring back with a vengeance. Jo popped her finger from her mouth, wagging her head in dismay as she wiped the offending digit on her dress.

“Get. A. Grip.”

“Oh, I’d love to get a grip.”

“Gah!” Her startled yelp was undercut by a low chuckle.

Will’s gaze met hers in the mirror, and a furious blush prickled her neck and cheeks.

She whirled on him. “You’re like the proverbial bad penny.”

The chuckle faded but his smile remained. He took a step toward her. “And here I was trying to be helpful.”

“You want to be helpful? Go away.”

His eyes widened and his jaw dropped in mock horror. He slapped a hand to his chest. “Josie, you wound me.”

“Please,” she hissed. “Just go.”

“But I have something special for you—”

“You don’t have anything I haven’t already seen—”

“Well, not recently,” he argued.

“And never again, okay?” She held up a hand for emphasis. “That ship sailed sixteen years ago.”

He cocked his head. “Has it been that long?”

“Maybe longer,” she shot back, irrationally incensed to discover his life hadn’t been put on hold as hers was. “And I’m not Josie anymore. I’m not that girl.” Oh, but she was. She’d proved she was. Sort of. The realization drew her up short on the argument, but she was in too far to back off. Luckily, Will chose not to call her on the lie. “Look, we had fun, right? We had fun, but it was a long time ago—”

“We might have fun again.”

“I want something different now.”

“Something like what?”

He tossed the question out there as if the possibilities were boundless. As if her whole life was ahead of her again. Her heart drummed against her breastbone, each resounding thud reinforcing the notion.

“Something more….”

“More?”

The stark realization began to sink in that she probably wasn’t going to get the
something more
she was looking for from a man she’d blown in a bathroom stall. The pleasant tingle in her puffy lips refused to go away. A flicker of hope sparked the moment Greg turned the full force of his attention her way.

“Just more,” she finished with a helpless shrug. “More than waiting and hoping. More than being the odd woman out at every damn function I go to.” She said the last through gritted teeth. “I want a plus one, damn it, and you’re not a plus one kind of guy.”

“I might be now,” he countered. “How would you know?”

Jo rolled her eyes. “You might pass as a plus one for an occasion or two, but you’re strictly rent-a-tux.”

“And Greg isn’t.”

Will delivered the conclusion with the same maddening equanimity she remembered from long ago. And proved her point. The man never cared enough about anyone to get worked up over anything. Swallowing a tingle of regret for the one who got away from every woman, she heaved a sigh. “He doesn’t seem to be.”

“Oh, no. I’m telling you he isn’t.” His lips twisted into an affectionate grimace. “The guy has owned a tux for years, but when Ben said he needed a new one for the wedding, he ran right out and bought another. Greg has no issues with permanence. That what you’re after these days, Josie?”

His fingers unfolded, revealing two shot glasses filled with tequila nestled in his palm. She blinked, taken aback by his thoughtfulness and knocked off kilter by the gesture.

“I had one after you disappeared, so I’m up to two. I know you like threes.” He extended his hand, urging her to take one. “We’ll drink one more to finding your plus one.”

Pleasure warmed her cheeks. “Damn it, Will….” Pinching the glass between her thumb and forefinger, she lifted it from his palm.

“I know.” The scar marked him a rogue, allowing one corner of his mouth to rise slightly higher than the other. His eyes twinkled as he raised his glass in a toast. “But if I allow myself to be caught, I’d stop being such a damn good catch. Then where would I be?”

“Happy?” she ventured, lifting a challenging eyebrow.

“Maybe. Maybe not.”

Jo’s breath caught in her throat as the bathroom door
whooshed
open. A snarl torqued Greg’s handsome features the second he spotted Will. Before either of them had a chance to react, he plucked the glass from Will’s hand, saluted her, then tossed back the shot.

Greg gasped and thumped his chest with the heel of his hand, but his gaze never left hers. “Three,” he rasped, breaking the thick silence. Then he dropped the glass into the pocket of Will’s suit jacket and offered her his hand. “Shall we, Josie?”

Without a moment of hesitation, Jo threw the tequila down her throat. “Three.” She clamped her lips together until the burn started to subside. She dropped her glass into Will’s other pocket then rose up on her toes to kiss his cheek. “Thank you.”

“My pleasure.”

“Nuh-uh. Not this time.” Raising her hand to his lips, Greg brushed a kiss over her knuckles then pulled her toward the door. He flashed a cocky grin at Will. “This time the pleasure is all mine.”

Greg and Josie hit the corridor at full stride. The faint strains of the “Electric Slide” beckoned from the ballroom, but instead of hooking a right, Greg turned left. “Hey,” she panted. “Where are we going?”

Her ankles wobbled as she trotted to keep up with him. The swirly patterns on the carpet made her dizzy. Miles and miles of French vanilla wallpaper flew past in a blur. Another left placed them directly in front of a bank of gilt-edged elevators. Jo looked up, searching for a fixed point to focus on until she got her bearings. Her gaze locked on his as a door opened. Greg pulled her into his arms. The couple exiting the elevator jostled past them, the young man tossing a scornful glare over his shoulder.

“Get a room.”

“Got one,” Greg answered without taking his focus from her.

Then his mouth was on hers. Thank God. He walked her back into the waiting car and up against the mirrored wall. The doors slid shut behind them. Greg shifted his attention to her throat as the car surged upward. His teeth scraped her pulse, eliciting a gasp. His tongue danced over her skin, turning her every exhalation into a soft moan.

She clutched the lapels of his jacket, her hands providing an unwanted buffer between the hard wall of his chest and the tight peaks of her nipples. She arched her back, desperate to get closer to him and farther from the brass handrail cutting into her ass. He trailed hot, wet kisses into the deep vee of her dress and she made the mistake of opening her eyes.

Fact and fantasy merged and melded, and her booze-befuddled brain raced to keep up. A man and a woman swam in and out of focus, the beveled edges of the mirrors on the ceiling multiplying the breathtakingly erotic scene playing out below. A woman trapped against the wall, her dress hiked high on one leg, as a tuxedo-clad man devoured her with single-minded determination. The kind of fervor an old maid conjured in her neediest moments. Passion she’d never actually known. A hunger she feared would go forever unfulfilled. The kind of predestined connection to another person she didn’t think existed outside the covers of a romance novel. With a man she’d barely met but already knew intimately.