Beautiful Bastard (8 page)

“God, can you take it out of bitch mode for two seconds and listen to me?”

I spun around to face him. “Do you think I’m some kind of
whore
?”

A hundred different emotions flashed across his face: anger, shock, confusion, hate, and fuck me if he didn’t look delicious. He’d opened the collar of his shirt, his hair was an absolute mess, and the bead of sweat running down the side of his jaw was not helping the situation. I was determined to stay mad.

Keeping a careful distance, he shook his head. “Jesus,” he said, looking around the garage. “You think I see you as a
whore
? No! It was just in case—” He stopped, trying to organize his thoughts. He seemed to finally give up, jaw clenched.

The rage was coursing through me so strongly that before I could stop myself, I stepped forward and slapped him hard across the face. The sound cracked through the empty garage. With a shocked and furious glare, he reached up and touched the spot where I had struck him.

“You may be my boss, but you do
not
get to decide how this works.”

The silence stretched before us, the sounds of the traffic and the outside world barely registering in my consciousness. “You know,” he began with a dark stare, taking a single step toward me, “I didn’t hear you
complaining
.”

Oh, that smooth fucker.

“Against the window.” Another step. “In the elevator and stairwell. In the dressing room while you watched me fuck you.” And another. “When you spread your legs in my office today, I didn’t hear one word of protest out of that fucking mouth of yours.”

My chest was heaving, and I could feel the cool metal of my car through the thin material of my dress. Even with my shoes, he still stood a full head above me, and when he leaned down, I could feel his warm breath against my hair. All I had to do was look up, and our mouths would meet.

“Well, I’m over it,” I said through clenched teeth, but each labored breath brought me a brief moment of relief as my chest grazed against his.

“Of course you are,” he whispered, shaking his head and moving even closer, his erection pressing into my stomach. He braced his hands against the car, trapping me. “Completely over it.”

“Except . . . maybe
.
.
.” I said, not sure whether I meant to say it out loud.

“Maybe just one more time?” His lips barely brushed mine.

It was too gentle, too real.

Turning my face up, I whispered against his mouth, “I don’t want to want this. It’s not good for me.”

His nostrils flared slightly and just when I thought I would go insane, he took my lower lip roughly between his and pulled me to him. Growling into my mouth, he deepened the kiss and pushed me forcefully against the car. Like last time, he reached up and removed the pins from my hair.

Our kisses were teasing then rough, coming together and pulling apart, hands fisting in hair and tongues sliding against each other. I gasped as he bent his knees slightly, grinding his cock against me.

“God,” I moaned, wrapping my leg around him and digging my heel into his thigh.

“I know.” He exhaled heavily into my mouth. Looking down at my leg and cupping my ass with his hand, he gave it a rough squeeze and murmured, “Have I told you how fucking hot those shoes are? What are you trying to do to me with those wicked little bows?”

“Well, there’s another bow somewhere else but you’ll need some luck finding it.”

He pulled away. “Get in the fucking car,” he said, his voice rumbling deep in his throat as he yanked the door open.

I glared at him, willing rational thought to penetrate my clouded brain. What should I do? What did I want? Could I just let him have my body like this again? I was so overwhelmed, I was trembling. Rational thought was quickly abandoning me as I felt his hand run up my neck and into my hair.

Gripping it tightly he jerked my head toward him and stared into my eyes. “Now.”

The decision was made, and once again I wrapped his tie around my wrist, pulling him into the backseat. Once the door closed behind him, he wasted no time going for the ties on the front of my dress. I groaned as I felt him part the material and run his hands across my bare skin. Pushing me back to lie on the cool leather and kneeling between my legs, he placed his palm between my breasts, slowly moving down my abdomen to the lace garter belt. His fingers traced the delicate ribbons to the edge of my stockings and back up again, moving to run across the edge of my panties. The muscles of my abdomen clenched with every movement and I tried to control my breathing. Fingering the tiny white bows, he looked up at me and said, “Luck has nothing to do with it.”

I pulled him to me by his shirt and slid my tongue into his mouth, groaning as his palm pressed against me. Our lips searched; our kisses grew long and deep, gaining urgency with every inch of skin uncovered. I pulled his shirt from his pants and explored the smooth skin over his ribs, the sharp definition of muscle at his hips, and the soft trail of hair urging me down his navel and lower.

Wanting to tease him the way he was teasing me, I ran my fingers across his belt and to the hard shape of him beneath his pants.

He groaned into my mouth. “You don’t know what you’re doing to me.”

“Tell me,” I whispered back. I was using his words against him, and just knowing the tables were turned for the moment spurred me on. “Tell me and I’ll give you what you want.”

He moaned and bit his lip, his forehead pressed against mine as he shivered. “I want you to fuck me.”

His hands were shaking as he gripped my new panties in his fist, and as insane as it was, I wanted him to rip them. The raw passion between us was unlike anything I’d ever experienced; I didn’t want him holding back. Without a word, he tore them from me, the pain of the fabric pulling across my skin only adding to the pleasure.

I pulled my leg forward and pushed him back and off me. Sitting up, I shoved him against the seat back and straddled his lap. I grabbed his shirt and yanked it open, sending the buttons scattering along the seat.

I was lost to everything but him and this. The feel of the air against my skin, the ragged sounds of our breathing, the heat of his kiss, and the thought of what lay ahead. With frantic hands I undid his belt and pants, and with his help managed to get them down his legs. The tip of his cock grazed my entrance and I closed my eyes, slowly sliding down over him.

“Oh, God,” I groaned, the sensation of him inside me only making the bittersweet ache intensify. Lifting my hips, I began to ride him, each movement feeling more intense than the one before. The pain from his rough fingertips on my hips only fueled my lust. His eyes were closed and his moans were muffled against my breast. Moving his lips across my lace bra he pulled one cup down and took my hardened nipple between his teeth. I gripped his hair tightly and elicited a moan from him, his mouth opening around my skin.

“Bite me,” I whispered.

He bit down, hard, making me cry out and pull harder on his hair.

My body was so in tune with his, it reacted to his every look and touch and sound. I both hated and loved how he made me feel. I’d never been one to lose control, but when he touched me like this, I happily threw it out the window.

“Do you like feeling my teeth?” he asked, his breath short and jagged. “Do you fantasize about where else I could bite you?”

I pushed on his chest and stared up at him. “You just don’t know when to shut your mouth, do you?”

He lifted me off and roughly threw me down onto the seat. Pushing my legs apart he thrust back into me. My car was too small for this, but there was nothing that could have stopped us now. Even with his legs bent awkwardly below him and my arms braced above me to protect my head from the door, it was almost too much.

Pulling himself onto his knees and into a more comfortable position, he picked up one of my legs and placed it over his shoulder, forcing his cock deeper inside me.

“Oh, God, yes.”

“Yeah?” He lifted my other leg to rest across his other shoulder. Reaching out, he gripped the door frame and used it for leverage to deepen his thrusts. “Is that how you like it?” The change in angle caused me to gasp, as the most delicious sensations spread throughout my body.

“No.” With my hands pushing off the door, I lifted my hips off the seat to meet each motion of his hips. “I like it harder.”

“Fuck,” he murmured as he turned his head slightly, his open mouth leaving wet kisses up and down my leg. By now our bodies were glistening with sweat, the windows were completely fogged up, and our groans filled the silent space of the car. The dim glow from the garage lights emphasized every carved indentation and muscle of the masterpiece above me. I watched him in awe, his body straining with the effort, his hair mussed and sticking to his damp forehead, the tendons in his neck pulled tight.

Ducking his head between his outstretched arms, he closed his eyes tightly and shook his head. “Oh, God,” he panted. “I just . . . I can’t stop.”

I arched to get closer, needing to find a way to pull him deeper, more completely into me. I’d never wanted to consume another body as rabidly as I did when he was inside me, but even like this, I could never seem to get close enough to the parts of him I wanted to feel. And it was with that thought in my mind that the delicious, ratcheting tension along my skin and in my belly crystallized into an ache so heavy I slipped my legs off his shoulders, pulling all of his weight on top of me and pleading, “Please, please, please,” over and over.

I was so close.
So close.

My hips circled, and his hips answered rough but steady, as savage above as I was underneath. “So fucking close,
please.
”

“Anything,” he growled in reply, before bending to bite my lip and growl. “Take fucking
anything.
”

I screamed as I came, my nails digging into his back and the taste of his sweat on my lips.

He swore, his voice deep and hoarse, and with one last powerful thrust he tensed above me.

Exhausted and shaking, he collapsed with his face against my neck. I couldn’t resist the urge to run my trembling hands through his damp hair as we lay there panting, his heart racing against my chest. A million thoughts skittered through my mind as the minutes passed.

Slowly, our breathing calmed and I almost thought he’d fallen asleep when he moved his head away.

My sweaty body was instantly chilled as he started getting dressed. I watched him for a moment before sitting up and putting on my dress, feeling heavily ambivalent. More than just physically fulfilling, sex with him was some of the most fun I’d had in a long time.

But he was such an asshole.

“I assume you’ll ignore the account. I realize this can’t happen again,” he said, startling me from my own thoughts. I turned to look at him. He was shrugging on his torn shirt, his eyes fixed straight ahead.

Moments passed before he turned to look at me. “Say something so I know you’ve heard me.”

“Tell Susan I’ll be there for dinner, Mr. Ryan. And get the hell out of my car.”

Six

The burning in my chest was almost enough to distract me from the mess inside my head.
Almost.

I increased the incline on the treadmill and pushed myself harder. Feet pounding, muscles on fire, it always worked. That was how I lived my life. There was nothing I couldn’t accomplish if I just pushed hard enough: school, career, family, women.

Shit
. Women.

Disgusted, I shook my head and turned up the volume on my iPod, hoping it would distract me long enough to get some fucking peace.

I should have known it wouldn’t work. No matter how hard I tried, she was always there. I closed my eyes and it all came back: hovering over her, feeling her wrapped around me, sweaty, aching, wanting to stop but not being able to. Being inside of her was the most perfect torture. It satiated the hunger I felt at that moment, but like a junkie I found myself consumed by the need for more as soon as it ended. It was terrifying, because in those moments with her, I’d do anything she asked. And that feeling was starting to bleed into moments like this too, when I wasn’t even with her and still wanted to be what she needed. Ridiculous.

My earbud was tugged free, and I turned toward the source of the annoyance. “What?” I said, glaring at my brother.

“You keep that up, we’re gonna be peeling you off the floor, Ben,” he replied. “What’d she do to piss you off this time?”

“Who?”

He rolled his eyes. “Chloe.”

I felt my stomach tighten at the sound of her name and focused my attention back on the treadmill. “What makes you think this has anything to do with her?”

“Because I’m not a fucking idiot.”

“Nothing’s bothering me. And even if something was, why on earth would it have anything to do with her?”

He laughed, shaking his head. “I’ve never met anyone who gets this kind of reaction out of you. And you know why, don’t you?” He had shut off his machine and was now focusing all his attention on me. I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t a little unnerving. My brother was perceptive; too perceptive at times. And if there was ever anything I wanted to keep from him, it was this.

I kept my gaze forward as I ran, trying not to meet his eyes. “Enlighten me.”

“Because you two are too much alike,” he said smugly.

“What?”

Several people turned to see why I was yelling in the middle of the crowded gym. I slammed my hand down on the stop button and turned to face him. “How could you even think that? We are
nothing
alike.” I was sweaty, out of breath, and ramped up from running ten miles. But right now, the rise in my blood pressure had nothing to do with my workout.

Taking a long drink from his water bottle, Henry continued to smirk. “Who do you think you’re talking to? I’ve never met two people more alike. First of all . . .” He paused, clearing his throat and bringing his hand up to dramatically tick things off on his fingers. “You’re both intelligent, determined, hardworking, and loyal.
And
,” he continued, pointing at me, “she’s a firecracker. In fact, she’s the first woman in your entire life who can stand up to you and doesn’t follow you around like some lost puppy. You hate how much you need that.”

Had everyone lost their mind? Sure, she might be some of those things; even I couldn’t deny that she was incredibly intelligent. She was a hard worker; I was often surprised at how well she kept up with things. She was definitely determined, although I would describe it more along the lines of pigheaded or stubborn. And there was no question of her loyalty. She could have sold me out a hundred times since we’d started this sick game.

I stood glaring at him as I tried to formulate my response. “Yeah, well, she’s also a raving bitch.”
Nice. Very articulate, Bennett.

Stepping down, I quickly wiped off my machine and made my way across the gym in an effort to escape.

He laughed happily behind me. “See? I knew she was getting to you.”

“Fuck off, Henry.”

I settled in to do some sit-ups when he stood over me, grinning like a cat that swallowed a canary. “Well, my work is done here,” he said, brushing off his hands and looking increasingly pleased with himself. “Guess I’ll be heading home.”

“Good. Go.”

Laughing, he turned to leave. “Oh, but before I forget, Mina wanted me to see if you managed to convince Chloe to make it to dinner.”

I nodded, sitting up to fiddle with my shoelaces. “She said she’d be there.”

“Am I the only one who thinks it’s hilarious that Mom wants to set her up with Joel Cignoli?” There went that feeling in my chest again. Henry and I had grown up with Joel, and he was a pretty decent guy, but something about the thought of the two of them together made me feel like I wanted to punch something. “I mean, Joel is great,” he continued. “But Chloe’s a bit out of his league, don’t you think?” I could feel him staring at me a beat longer. “But hey, good for him if he thinks he stands a chance.”

I lay back, began doing sit-ups a bit faster than was
necessary
.

“See you later, Benny.”

“Yeah, later,” I mumbled.

Sunday night as I lay in bed I replayed the plan in my head. I was thinking about her too much, and differently. I had to be tough and make it a week without touching her. It was like detoxing. Seven days, I could do that. Seven days of not touching her and this thing would be out of my system. I could finally move on with my life. There were just a couple of precautions I had to take.

First, I couldn’t be goaded into arguing with her. For some reason, the two of us arguing was like some sick form of foreplay. Second: no more fantasizing about her, ever. That meant no more reliving sexual encounters, no more fantasizing about new ones, and no more picturing her naked or with any of my body parts coming in contact with any of hers.

And for the most part, things seemed to go according to plan. I was in a constant state of discomfort and the week seemed to drag on, but aside from a lot of dirty fantasies, I remained in control. I did my best to stay busy outside the office, but during the times we were forced together, I kept a constant distance, and for the most part we treated each other with the same polite aversion we had before.

But I swear she was trying to break me. Each day it seemed that Miss Mills looked sexier than the day before. Every day there was something about what she wore or did that brought my mind back to the gutter. I’d made a deal with myself that there would be no more lunchtime “sessions.” I had to stop this, and imagining her while
masturbating
—hell, imagining
her
masturbating—wasn’t going to help.

Monday she wore her hair down. All I could think about as she sat across from me during a meeting was wrapping it around my hands as she went down on me.

Tuesday she had on a formfitting knee-length skirt and those stockings with the seam up the back. She looked like some sort of hot secretary pinup.

Wednesday she wore a suit. That was unexpectedly worse, because I couldn’t get my mind off what it would feel like to slide those pants down her long legs.

Thursday she had on a perfectly ordinary V-neck blouse, but twice when she bent over to pick up my pen I got a good look down her shirt. Only one of those times was on purpose.

By Friday I thought I would explode. I hadn’t jacked off once all week and was walking around with the worst case of blue balls known to man.

As I walked into the office Friday morning, I was praying that maybe she would call in sick. Somehow I knew I wouldn’t be that lucky. I was horny and in a particularly bad mood, and when I opened the office door I almost had a heart attack. She was bent over watering a plant in a charcoal gray sweater dress and knee-high boots. Every curve of her body was on display. Someone up there really hated me.

“Good morning, Mr. Ryan,” she said sweetly, stopping me as I passed her. Something was up. She never said anything sweetly to me. I eyed her suspiciously.

“Good morning, Miss Mills. You seem to be in an exceptionally cordial mood today. Did somebody die?”

The corner of her mouth lifted in a devilish smirk. “Oh, no. I’m just excited about dinner tomorrow, and meeting your friend Joel. Henry’s told me all about him. I think we really might have a lot in common.”

Son of a bitch
. “Oh right. Dinner. I’d completely forgotten. Yes, you and Joel . . . Well, since he’s a mama’s boy and you’re an overbearing shrew, you two should find a pretty solid love connection. I’d love a cup of coffee if you’re getting one for yourself.” I turned and headed into my office.

It occurred to me that it might not be in my best interest to let her make my coffee. One of these days she was likely to put something in it. Like arsenic.

Before I’d even sat down, she knocked at my door.

“Come in.”

She set my coffee down hard enough that some of it spilled on what she knew damn well was a custom-built
fifteen
-thousand-dollar desk, and turned to look at me.

“Are we having the scheduling meeting this morning?” She was standing near my desk in a pool of sunlight. Shadows draped across her dress, accentuating the curve of her breasts. Fuck, I wanted to pull her tight nipple into my mouth. Was it cold in here? How could she be cold when I was sweating bullets?

I had to get the hell out of here.

“No. I forgot about a meeting downtown this afternoon. So I’ll be leaving for the day in about ten minutes. Just e-mail me all the details,” I replied quickly, heading for the safety and coverage of my desk chair.

“I wasn’t aware of any off-site meeting today,” she said skeptically.

“No, you wouldn’t have been,” I said. “It’s personal.”

When she didn’t respond I chanced a glance up and saw a strange expression on her face. What was that look? She obviously looked mad, but there was something else. Was she . . . was she
jealous
?

“Oh,” she answered, chewing on her lower lip. “Is it with someone I know?” She never asked questions about where I was going. “I mean, just in case your father or brother need to get ahold of you.”

“Well . . .” I paused, trying to torture her a bit. “In this day and age, if someone needs to get ahold of me, they can call my cell phone. Is there anything else, Miss Mills?”

She hesitated for a moment before lifting her chin and straightening her shoulders. “Since you won’t be here, I was thinking that I’d like to start the weekend early. Maybe do some shopping for tomorrow night.”

“No problem. I’ll just see you tomorrow.” Our gazes locked across the desk, and the electricity in the air was so palpable I could feel my heart rate increase.

“Have a nice
meeting,
” she said through clenched teeth, leaving and closing the door behind her.

I was relieved when I heard her leave fifteen minutes later. Deciding it was now safe to go, I gathered up my things and headed out. I was stopped by a man carrying a large flower arrangement.

“Can I help you with something?” I asked.

Looking up from his clipboard he glanced around before answering, “I have a delivery for a Miss Chloe Mills?”

What the—? Who the hell would send her flowers?
Was she seeing someone while we were
.
.
.
? I couldn’t even finish the thought.

“Miss Mills has gone for lunch. She’ll be back in about an hour,” I lied. I had to get a look at that card. “I’ll sign for those and make sure she gets them.” He set the arrangement on her desk.

Signing the clipboard quickly, I handed him a tip and mumbled a good-bye as he left. For three long minutes I stood and stared at the flowers, willing myself to stop being such a pussy and to definitely not look at the card.

Roses
. She despised roses. I snickered because whoever sent her these knew nothing about her. Even I
knew she didn’t like roses. I’d overheard her telling Sara one day about how one of her dates sent her a bouquet. She’d immediately given them away, disliking the pungent scent. Finally, my curiosity got the better of me and I ripped the card away from the arrangement.

Looking forward to dinner,

Joel Cignoli

That foreign sensation slowly spread through my chest again as I crumpled the card in my fist.

Retrieving the flowers from her desk, I walked out the door, locking up behind me, and made my way down the hall to the elevator.

Just as the doors opened I passed a wide chrome garbage can, and without a second thought I dropped the vase and all of its contents inside.

I didn’t know what the fuck was going on with me. But I did know there was no way in hell she was going out with Joel Cignoli.