Too Goode to be True (Love Hashtagged #2) (5 page)

Brad was surprised Gwen asked him to stay. Every time he had a moment to himself over the last day or so, she drifted back into his mind. At first, he shoved the thoughts aside, but when that didn’t work, he let them linger and worked his way through frustration and fantasy, to figure out what made him care about her opinion.

Once it hit him, it seemed obvious. She was the first person he’d met in ages who spoke her mind. She was real and genuine, whether she was hesitant about the hookup she impulsively agreed to, or demanding he get out of her office. Since he also enjoyed her company, when she wasn’t fuming, it seemed like a good reason to set things straight.

He paid the delivery guy, turned back to Gwen, and set the pizza on the table. She’d argued when he insisted on paying, but he pointed out she brought the beer. The movie played in the background, but they hadn’t seen much of it. The conversation focused on hashing out the details of the misunderstanding, and then shifted to more casual things. Now she sat on the couch, half-turned, with one leg on the cushion, foot tucked under her other knee.

He took the seat next to her, close enough to feel the heat of her leg, but not touching. So far nothing was off the table, conversation wise. Not that they’d discussed anything too intense, but he didn’t hesitate to answer her questions. “I’m wondering, does the diner do so well it pays for the BMW, or is that the blogging?”

For the first time that night, she hesitated. She handed him a plate, took one for herself, and grabbed a piece of pizza. She nudged the box toward him. “Help yourself.”

“Fair enough. No money conversations, then.” He liked she didn’t have any hesitation about eating in front of him.

She chewed and swallowed, then met his gaze. “No, it’s fine. It’s not a big secret. They pay for the car about as well as lingerie sales pays for your condo.”

He raised his brows. “Technically that’s true in my case.”

“
Technically
.” A tiny smile played on her face. “For me, it’s an inheritance. I mean, the blog and diner both make money on their own, but neither makes enough to buy a car like that.”

“That’s cool.” They were both silent for a moment, as they ate. He wasn’t sure how to follow up a question like that. She held something back, but he wasn’t sure what or if he should try and nudge it out of her. Open conversation or not, they weren’t exactly close.

“Your turn,” she said. “Why cosplay-themed lingerie?”

That was something most people didn’t know. He usually made up a flippant response, like
cartoons are hotter when they’re real
or
every geek guy’s dream, right?
He didn’t want to lie to her, though. “I got the idea from my sister.”

“Okay.” She leaned back, putting a few inches between them. “Not quite what I wanted to hear.”

“No, nothing like that. She’s a costume designer. When I was first married…” The answer died in his throat. He hadn’t expected the memory to surge back so hard. He shook the heavy feeling away. “Emily had her make something for Valentine’s Day.” Saying the words helped erase the stigma associated with the past. “Details aside, it sparked an idea. Tori and I took it from there.”

“Tori’s your sister? How’d she get off without the music-inspired name?”

He was grateful for the change in subject. “She didn’t. It’s short for Victoria, an old Kink’s song.”

“So you got in-your-face, and she got obscure. That’s cool.” Gwen set her empty plate aside and leaned in. “And I’m sorry for dragging up unpleasant memories.”

“You didn’t know. And I did the same to you.”

Surprise flickered across her face, as if she hadn’t expected him to notice. “But you didn’t make me talk about mine.”

“And neither did you. It’s done. It’s over. The biggest reason I hate looking back now, is because it should have been more obvious Emily was never invested in us. I don’t miss her. I should have seen it sooner, though.”

“You can’t do that. Not that my saying so changes anything, but you can’t play that what-if game. It’ll drive you crazy.”

He studied her—the brown eyes, wide and genuine; the swell of her full lips; how comfortable she looked sitting there talking to him. She was gorgeous. “Is that why you blog about dates gone bad?” He winked, to make sure she knew he was teasing.

“It is.” She leaned against the back of the couch and slid her hand close to his. “It’s how I leave those memories behind. Purging the demons, so to speak.”

“Really? That’s kind of genius.”

“Isn’t it? Too bad I just made it up. It sounds good though; I’m keeping it for future reference.”

He slid his fingers under hers, pleased when she intertwined them instead of pulling away. “I won’t tell a soul it was ever otherwise.”

With her other hand, she picked at a loose thread on her jeans. “I’m sorry your ex is fighting you for your daughter. I kind of know what that’s like. Not the whole having the light of my life ripped from me, but being told by someone I thought cared that I don’t quite count as much, because I’m still single.”

He wanted to push for more, but he recognized the hitch in her voice. He’d heard it in his own words. “Whoever it is, they’re wrong.”

She looked up, smile strained. “Well, duh.”

Impulse wound through him, and he leaned in and kissed her.

“Careful.” Her voice was more playful than warning. “Don’t start something you’re not willing to finish.”

Something told him heading down this path was a diversion, a way to cover scars and wounds with sex, and it wouldn’t do anything for either of them, besides provide a temporary distraction. Or that was the residual voice of his couples’ therapist—the man Emily cheated with. No point in listening to the man. Brad scooted closer. “I’m willing. Eager, even.”

*

The conversation triggered memories Gwen never summoned. Thoughts of when her brother had been one of her best friends. When Grandma was still alive, and money hadn’t come between them. She couldn’t go back to that; too much had changed between her and George to, get it back, and Gwen didn’t like lingering on it.

Diving into sex with Brad was a more appealing idea.

When he kissed her again, hard and hungry, she slid into his lap and straddled his legs. He groaned against her mouth. Sharp desire spread from her chest and flooded her nerve endings. This was better, without question. He dragged his hands down her sides, caressed her breasts, then slid his fingers up her back, to draw her in. Each time his tongue danced around hers, another flare of need glowed inside. She wanted to be closer. To be a part of him.

She shifted against his legs, and his cock hardened under her, teasing her mound and promising more. He dug his fingers into her hair and tugged her head back enough to look at her. “As much as I love you riding me, I think I promised we’d do this in bed, somewhere along the way.” His voice was heavy and breathless.

She caught his bottom lip between her teeth, a tiny laugh escaping her throat. “But that was days ago”—she ground against his erection, focusing on the tingles the sensation filled her with—“and bed is so far away.” She kissed him again and trailed her nails along the back of his neck.

When he cupped her breasts and drew his thumbs over her hard nubs, she arched her back with a groan. “Really?” He chuckled. “You can’t walk to the bedroom?”

“I guess I could.” She returned his favor, flicking a finger over the bump of a nipple changing the territory of his shirt.

“Are you afraid of changing your mind on that short trip?” His voice was light and playful.

Maybe
. The word echoed in her head like a slap. She stuffed it aside. “Not even close.”

“Fuck.” He dropped his forehead against her chest, tone shifting in an instant.

“Not what a girl wants to hear. Not like that, anyway.”

“Trust me; I’m not changing my mind. I don’t have any condoms.”

She pulled his head back up and kissed him. “Lucky for you, I was a Girl Scout.”

“So we’ll eat cookies instead of having sex?”

She slid from his lap and danced out of reach. “So I’m prepared. I have some in my drawer.”

“Lead the way, my lady.” He stood and laced his fingers with hers. It was such a simple gesture, but every time he did it, something sharp and primitive responded behind her ribs.

She turned toward the master bedroom and stepped inside without thought, the surroundings familiar even in the dark. When he flipped the light on, she winced and blinked.

He whirled her to face him and looked her over. “I’m not doing this without light. Watching you is like the icing.”

Heat rushed through her—both want and embarrassment at the compliment. Any retort she had vanished when he nudged her backward and her legs hit the bed. One more gentle push from him, and she let out a soft
eep
, as she lost her balance and landed on her butt on the mattress.

He sat next to her and drove his mouth back to hers. Kissing, sucking on her lips, devouring her. There were too many clothes in the way. She needed to feel him. She pushed his shirt up, and he pulled away long enough to tear it over his head and fling it aside. That was better. She kneaded her fingers into his bare chest. Marveled at the combination of fine hairs and firm muscle dancing under her touch.

He leaned her back, feet still on the floor. The faint but intoxicating scent of his cologne flooded her thoughts. She wanted to dive into every new feeling and lose herself in all of them. When he lay on his side next to her, she tilted her head up enough to flick her tongue over a flat brown nub on his chest. He pushed her shirt up, scraping her skin with the hem.

His every touch was frantic and desperate, mirroring her own need. He shoved her bra out of the way and pinched her nipple. She gasped and squirmed against him with each new pull. His erection dug into her hip. Taunting.

He spent several minutes on one side. Tugging, twisting, and eliciting a combination of sharp pain and exquisite pleasure. Then he moved to the other, to give it the same attention. Every time she shifted, to draw closer, her legs rubbed together. Her pussy begged for attention. She covered his hand with hers and guided it down her stomach.

He kissed a trail along her jaw, to her ear. “I adore that you know what you like.” She felt as much as heard the growl in his whispered words. He made quick work of the button and zipper on her jeans.

“Right now, I’m pretty fond of you.” Her words melted into a whimper when he glided below the waist of her panties and parted her folds.

“Only right now?” He trailed along her slit, drawing nearer to her clit with each pass, but never touching it. “I’ll have to make sure that lasts.”

He finally honed in on her aching center, and she jerked into his hand. He teased and coaxed, drawing back each time her breathing became stuttered gasps. When he focused his attentions on her clit, rubbing and not letting up, a wave rolled through and over her. Enveloping her. Flooding her senses with her orgasm. She screamed when she came, riding his touch, until it was too much and she shuddered away involuntarily.

He laid soft pecks along her neck, until he reached her mouth. “I think that’s become one of my favorite pastimes.”

Gwen struggled to catch her breath. “What’s that?”

“Watching you come.”

Her cheeks warmed, and she had to tell herself not to turn away from his gaze. She didn’t know how he stole her bravado and made her blush with a few simple words. In a way, she loved it. Wanted more. Another bit of her was terrified that she might be losing part of herself in whatever this was. She forced the sudden shyness aside and dragged her nails up his back. “I want you inside me.”

“I like that, too.” He stood. “Which drawer?”

She nodded at the nightstand. While he grabbed a condom, she peeled off her shirt and bra, and squirmed out of her pants. He let his jeans fall to the floor and sheathed himself. The little pauses were enough for her mind to wander, and she didn’t want that. Losing herself in
now
, in him, felt good. She scooted to the middle of the bed and propped herself up on her elbows, trying to look seductive.

He crawled toward her and knocked her back with a playful shove. “You really don’t have to try. I can’t take my eyes off you, even without the awkward poses.” He wedged a knee between her legs and moved forward. Supporting himself on one arm, he guided his cock along her slit. When he thrust inside, burying himself to the hilt, she sank into the pleasure of being stretched out.

Each time he rocked against her, she met his movements, and the slow rhythm increased in tempo. Faster, harder, until he pounded her, pulling her deeper into each new plunge.

He rested a hand on either side of her head, watching her, brow creased. “. You feel so good. So tight.”

“That’s not all me. It doesn’t hurt that you’re well hung.” She hooked her legs on his hips, feet meeting over his ass, and held him close. “Or maybe it does. In the best possible way.”

His chuckle was strained. He reached between them and sought out her clit again.

She pulled away from his touch, still tender.