Endgame (2 page)

“Well, well, what do we have here?” The voice was husky, feminine, and English. Upscale London if he guessed correctly. He knew accents since they were his trade. And damn it, somehow, he knew her.

She must have leaned in because her light scent invaded his nostrils head-on, floral and citrus dancing with a note of woman, scents that went through his blood, straight to his groin, as if his cock had a nose.

“All tied up like a gift, you are. Delightful,” she murmured. “I’m going to take the hood off now and have a peek at my present. I love Christmas, but I don’t like to wait.”

Aaron’s breath hitched as the hood lifted and he met bright eyes so deep blue they were almost violet. Those eyes widened further as her gaze locked on his. Electricity crackled in the air between them, and she inhaled sharply as if recognition stunned her as much as it did him.

Aaron stared, his heart hammering.

Charlotte.

His mind flew back to October, to his brother’s wedding. Jake had demanded he dance with Charlotte, his brother’s aloof co-worker with a penchant for tequila. He’d been attracted despite the cold shoulder—full breasts on a lean body, nice hips. She wasn’t beautiful but definitely pretty, with gorgeous bone structure any photographer would want to capture.

Despite Aaron’s hatred of weddings, dancing, and anything he was forced to do, it had been the best dance of his life, followed by one of the best kisses, as quick as it had been. Fuck Chase Sanders, his brother’s best friend, for barging into the downstairs banquet hall and ruining it.

But why was she here, in L.A.? In his living room, to be more exact, dressed in all black like a sexy burglar, simpering at him? The Charlotte from the wedding reception didn’t simper. No, that woman glared and spat fire. But he also sensed she’d been out of her element there, just has he had been. Still, he found it hard to believe she’d be more at ease breaking into his home.

His erection recognized her, too, because it jumped like it had when he’d danced with her, the blood racing through his veins, far, far away from his brain. They stared at each other for what seemed an eternity, her breath quickening, matching his shallow pants, her eyes as wide as his had to be. What would he give to kiss her again?

“Such a pretty gift, all wrapped up, so close to Christmas,” she breathed, her cheeks denting with a dimple as she smiled at him with mischief. She wrinkled her pert nose. God, could a woman’s skin get any creamier than that? Pale and flawless except for the scar under her left ear he noticed when she turned slightly, cocking her head as if to listen for something.

She did the unthinkable and straddled his lap, her face inches from his, looking into his eyes, the heat from her crotch searing his shaft. He should be afraid. Terrified. But something told him this wouldn’t be like his first time. If she just rode him into oblivion, this time he’d enjoy every moment of it.

“So handsome.” She touched his cheek with a gloved hand, her fingers warm through the leather. Her sleeve rode up and a tattoo around her wrist was exposed, a delicate chain of daisies with a yellow butterfly. He knew that, from somewhere, too, but didn’t remember seeing it on her when they danced. She wiggled on his lap, the ridge of his cock angling against the heat of her crotch through those thin black pants of hers.

He groaned through his gag. If she just rode him, even while he was bound and gagged, he’d be more than grateful for the gift. It was a new experience, to be so damned aroused over a woman, under such extremes. Maybe that’s what the problem was—this was way too extreme. He’d fought feelings like this for years. Now they were punching him in the gut as hard as she ground against his cock.

“Happy to see me again, are you? These ropes excite me, too. It’d be more exciting if it were the other way around. I love a good bondage session.”

He groaned again. He didn’t like kinky shit, but he did like Charlotte. Way, way too much.

Her hand slid along his jaw, fingering the gag in his mouth. “I don’t have a lot of time, but I want to kiss you again. I have no clue why I’m this attracted to you, and I need to get it out of my system. So if I take off your gag, will you let me?”

She licked her lower lip, and all coherent thought left him. Aaron felt his head dip and nod on its own accord. He didn’t do it. But something in him wanted to kiss her, too, as stupid as it was to be tied up and at her mercy. She would taste so good. His dick bet on it.

She took down the gag and leaned in, her breasts pressing against the rope on his chest, erotically alluring as her heat seared him. Aaron wet his dry lips, needing her mouth on his as much as he needed water. More so. She closed her eyes, and her lips brushed his, her gloved hands bracketing his face.

Aaron moaned against her mouth, and her tongue darted in, stroking his, igniting the flame in his belly, spiking his erection to a frantic, throbbing hard-on the size of Texas. She slanted her lips across his, deepening the kiss, her fingers threading his long hair, massaging his scalp in time to the thrusts of her tongue. He moaned again, wanting this to never end. Wanting more. So fucking hot.

She must have heard a noise because she jumped a little, his cock riding harder against her crotch. She ended the kiss by giving him a quick, sharp smack on the lips, then dismounted. And though his dick still raged, the passion in her eyes cooled to a frosty chill. Lusty to frosty in a nanosecond, and suddenly she was Wedding Charlotte again.

“He’s in here, cowboy,” she called. “Trussed up like a Christmas goose. The house is clear.”

Cowboy?
Aaron realized then that his mouth was unbound, free, and he opened his mouth to scream for help when six foot of brawn rounded the corner, dressed in black with a black knit cap on his head, a cell phone to his ear, his hands also gloved. Jake Anderson. Aaron didn’t know if he should be elated, scared, or pissed as hell to see his older brother.

“Yeah, he’s safe. Trussed up like a Christmas goose, just as Ginger said.” Jake had a pistol. In his hand. A real one. A .45 if he remembered anything from the spy film he’d done last year. Aaron gulped. Why would his big brother, the tax collector, be carrying a gun?

“I didn’t catch the intruder,” Jake said to the phone. “No, I don’t need to run more, asshole.”

Charlotte gave a very unladylike snort. “You’ll have to ask Chase if I’m staying, love.”

Chase? Why would Jake call his asshole best friend at a time like this? And why the hell was his brother here in L.A. with a woman who wasn’t his wife?

“Is Ginger staying?” Jake swapped the phone to his other ear, set the gun on the foyer table, and leafed through Aaron’s mail. “You realize I’m going to have to tell him.”

Tell me what?

Jake nodded. “I’ll call you later. Send my love to the women.”

Aaron could take no more. He struggled against his bindings, needing to be free. “Jesus, what’s going on? Why the hell am I tied up, and why the hell are you both here?” He glared at Charlotte. “Is this some joke? Or is this revenge for me kissing you?”

Jake’s head snapped up from the mail. “You kissed her?
Her?
” He pointed at the glaring Charlotte. “That woman, right there.”

Aaron closed his eyes. Busted, so busted. When he was nervous, his mouth tended to run on and on, the filter tossed aside. “Yes, I kissed her. Jesus, don’t sound so shocked. I don’t think she liked it as much as I did.”

“Shut up,” she hissed in his ear. The ropes around his waist tugged hard, and he grunted.

Jake stared, his blue eyes narrowed. “You danced with her and then you kissed her? Holy hell, where was I?”

“Smearing your wife’s face with cake,” Charlotte sneered behind him.

At the mention of Tia, Aaron fought the sinking feeling in his gut. As much as he loved his brother, Jake was a man whore, but he had prayed Tia had finally set him right on that path. Charlotte was more than pretty, but God only knew what her past was. Then there was the fact that Aaron had no luck whatsoever when it came to women.

Aaron’s luck mandated Jake and Charlotte were hooking up.

“Where the hell is your wife, bro?” he blurted out. “You ditch her already?”

Jake stiffened. “Tia’s at home.”

“No shit. She know you’re here with another woman?”

Charlotte pinched him, her fingers digging into his side, right above a rope. Aaron stifled a yelp and stared hard at his brother. Not his fault Jake was heading down the wrong path. Again.

Jake started in on the second stack of Aaron’s mail. To the outside world, Jake would appear unfazed by the questioning, but Aaron idolized his brother. He knew damned well Jake was rattled by the way he set his jaw. “Charlotte is a co-worker. My partner.”

“That’s what they’re calling it now?” Aaron’s arms were now free, and he rubbed his wrists. The ropes at his ankles tugged as Charlotte began working at those. “Get away from my mail. That’s private.”

“I’m glad to see you, too, little brother.” Jake yanked his hat off, and Aaron narrowed his eyes. Jake’s hair was longer now, almost shoulder length, like his. It was also darker than his usual blond, as if Jake had dyed it to look like…him. Jake now looked more like Aaron than Paul, Aaron’s fraternal twin. Jake was a little shorter and a little more muscular, but the resemblance was uncanny, even to Aaron. Almost…identical.

“Why the hell do you look like me?”

“Hey,
you
look like
me.
I’m older. And fuck if I was happy to have to do this.” Jake raised a brow. “You’re welcome.”

“Fuck you. I didn’t thank you for anything.”

“Well, that’s bad manners,” Charlotte said disapprovingly. “I thought hospitality was a thing of the South.” She knelt before him, working the knots at his ankles. “Watch your mouth, baby cowboy.”

Baby cowboy?
Aaron blanched, hating the nickname Jake had given him eons ago. And it shouldn’t bother him that
she
wasn’t happy with him, damn it. “He can swear and I can’t?”

“Jake can do whatever he likes. He’s earned the privilege.” She glanced up at him with an indignant sniff. “Maybe I should tie you back up and gag you until find your respect again.”

Aaron fought a shudder. He didn’t want to be bound, nor did he want to fight with her. But both, for some odd reason, flushed him with need that had nothing to do with being set free. “You seem like you’d enjoy that a little too much.”

“Oh, this isn’t for me.” She laughed. “If
I
wanted you tied up, you’d be naked, love. Gloriously naked, on my bed.”

As much as he hated kink, feared it, the image of her standing over him as he was bound and
gloriously naked
on her bed sent his cock into a whole new fit of hardness.

“Calm the hormones, Ginger. Aaron doesn’t play that way.” Jake was at the windows, checking them. “He’s uptight.”

“Who the fuck are you to discuss my sex life? You’re the kinky bastard.” As horny as he was right now, his sex life, or lack thereof, was a touchy subject. “And I’m not uptight. I kissed her in a basement ballroom at your wedding. I think I should get Anderson points for that one.”

“Shut up about the kissing,” she hissed again. “Normal people don’t brag about that stuff. Not to their brother.”

“I’m not normal, darlin’.” But it wasn’t normal for him to kiss women in any sense, never mind at his brother’s wedding. He just didn’t do that stuff.

“Let’s discuss your sex life.” Jake didn’t seem to hear their whispered discussion from his position at the living room windows. He checked the locks and the seams with his hand. “When your sex life takes me away from the arms of my gorgeous wife, I think it’s open for discussion.” Jake stepped to other set of windows, checking those. “When you fuck the senator’s very married daughter-in-law and I have to come clean up the aftermath, it’s definitely open for discussion.”

Aaron’s stomach dropped to his feet like a bad ride on a roller coaster out of control. Of course, this would come back to bite him in the ass. After the wedding, he’d gone to England, dreaming of Charlotte. He couldn’t get her out of his mind, her scent seeming to follow him about. Even one of those gofer girls on set had reminded him of Charlotte.

Loneliness and too much whiskey made him do drastic things sometimes. So, two days ago when the filming had wrapped, his co-star Celia Shaw snapped her fingers and he’d jumped at the chance to get laid. He’d hoped to use her to banish any thoughts of the feisty redhead from his memory. He’d had no clue Celia was married, just like he’d had no clue he whispered Charlotte’s name as he came until Celia had beat the crap out of him. Bad, bad luck.

“Why the fuck do you care who I screw? Either of you? It’s my business.” Pissed, he demanded of Jake, “Or is there a newly levied tax for men who screw married women that I don’t know about and you’re here to collect?”

His brother supposedly worked for the IRS. Given that Jake now looked like a burglar in all black and was packing heat, he doubted that like hell.

“Language, love,” Charlotte hissed from between his legs. She worked to untie his right one now. “No need to be pissy at my favorite cowboy. He’s only doing his job.”

Aaron frowned at Jake being her favorite anything, the jealousy boiling in his stomach too much to handle. “Really,
Ginger
? How does my brother’s love of collecting taxes have anything to do with my sex life? And you have to be just as depraved as he is, since he’s here with you instead of my sister-in-law. Seems I’m not the only one racking up the sins.”

Jake inhaled sharply, and Ginger rose from between Aaron’s legs, beyond frosty. She put her hands on his thighs, her nails biting through the fabric of his jogging pants. She leaned closer until her nose almost touched his, her violet eyes glittering. “How many women have you fucked, love?”

“None of your business.” But he wanted her to be number three, bad. He swallowed, so turned on. No woman had ever spoken to him this way, and her naughty mouth… His cock loved it.

Her eyes turned to violet steel, the set of her mouth firm, nostrils slightly flared. “Then keep in mind that I’ve killed more people than you’ve fucked. Watch your mouth when it comes to your brother.”