Love Me (3 page)

Chapter Three

Thomas watched Brianna from the corner of his eye. So mistrustful. Admittedly he’d given her no real reason to trust him, but she acted like he was the Big Bad Wolf in Bo Peep’s clothing.

He could guess why she thought he’d hurt her. She’d given it away herself when she’d mentioned his “type.” He wasn’t sure he had a type. He had, once. She was currently living in his old house, sleeping with the yoga trainer who helped her keep her cheerleader body.

Paying for that yoga trainer with Thomas’s alimony checks.

He’d needed a new
type
long before he’d divorced Nicole and the long string of lovers that came with her. He could do worse than Brianna, and one date wasn’t the ten-year commitment he’d made before. A commitment that had left him stupidly blinded. Suckered in by a pretty face and reduced to a whimpering dog at her feet.

Never again.

At least with Brianna there was perspective. He wouldn’t be in Vegas long enough for her to use those lovely eyes and dangerous curves to seduce him into willingly snapping on his own leash, then dragging himself by it straight to Hell. He’d done that once before. And thanks to Nicole and his own stupidity, he’d destroyed his relationship with his one true friend, and hurt the only woman he truly trusted and loved. That rift was only beginning to heal after seven years. He wasn’t repeating the mistakes that had led to it in the first place.

No, tonight he was making an entirely new mistake. A very stupid one.

If they ended up hitting it off and they were happy together, then things would be fabulous. He’d seen office relationships work out splendidly. Stolen lunch dates in the break room. Hot, steamy kisses in the supply closet.

But if she decided she hated him? Well, that was a little bit different. He could just picture it now. The loathing glare she shot at him from across the boardroom table. The hatred in her motions as she slammed her pen down next to the blank contract she no longer wanted to sign because he was a dick. He could be losing everything in this mess. Losing everything because he was thinking with his little head instead of the one on his shoulders.

But he was in the mood to be a little stupid.

He turned his gaze to Brianna. She looked so small right now, her pensive eyes staring out the window, her face unguarded and somehow lost. He doubted she knew how vulnerable she could look when she wasn’t acting the part of the businesswoman, and he wondered if she wasn’t right: he
would
end up hurting her without meaning to, over a casual flirtation and the thrill of the chase.

A disquieting feeling settled in the pit of his stomach.

She glanced toward him and caught his eye. Her face closed over. “What?”

“Nothing.” He reached across the seat, captured her hand, and stroked his thumb over her fingers.

She tensed and shot him an incredulous look. “What are you doing?”

“Touching you.” He raised her hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to her palm. “It’s something humans do to express interest in someone. You’ve heard of humans, I assume.”

“I’ve also heard of slimy snakes.”

“I left my snake oil in my briefcase.” He darted his tongue out to touch the center of her palm. She gasped as if he’d shocked her. Her eyes were wide, the color of polished amber, translucent and clear.

“D-Don’t.”

“Are you sure? I’m just proving that I’m a man who is very much interested in you, since you seem so convinced I’m not.” He ran his thumb over the soft skin at her wrist. Goosebumps rose on her flesh, and her softly indrawn breath teased him. “Men are fairly simple to understand. We require very little to satisfy our needs. You, on the other hand…”

“What about me?” Her fingers curled loosely against his; her voice trembled.

“You are more complex,” he simply said. He wouldn’t give her more than that. Let her wonder what he meant.

Her trembling stopped. He glanced up and met her eyes. They were cold, but underneath the frosty surface a snapping fire threatened to break free. She deliberately, precisely extracted her hand from his grip.

“You’re playing me,” she said flatly.

No
, he thought. If anything, she was playing him like a fiddle. Every time she brushed him off, he craved to win her approval. Wanted her to want him so badly it hurt. Had he read the signals wrong? Was she truly not interested in him at all?

“I’m not playing you, Brianna.”

She tapped her fingers on her leg. “Where are we going?” she asked, her voice cold.

“Where would you like to go? Would you like me to take you home?” he asked.

Her head snapped toward him. She blinked. Her brows drew together; that fire of fury threatened to break past her shielded gaze. Good. He wanted her to look alive. Wanted the spitfire he’d first met back. She seemed more real when she was angry. More the real woman she kept trying to bury under her polished image.

“Take me home?” she bit off.

“I’m not going to force you to go out with me, Brianna.” He dragged his hand through his hair, feeling completely out of place. “I usually read people well. I thought I read a spark of…interest…in your eyes. If I’m wrong about you, then I’ll take you home. I don’t need to bribe women to go out with me, believe it or not,” he said, his voice dry.

He couldn’t help adding that last part on. She’d wounded his pride, whether she had meant to or not.

She faltered. “So now you’re giving up? Wow. I thought you didn’t stop when you wanted something.”

“I draw the line at forcing a woman out to dinner,” he said. She looked at him as if she wanted to throttle him or kiss him into silence. He wasn’t sure which one. “So what is it going to be? Dinner or home?”

“Oh. My. God.” She clenched her fists. “You’re so annoying.”

“It’s simple. Either I was right, and you want to go to dinner with me
on a date
. Or I was wrong, and I take you home. We keep our relationship strictly professional.” His heart sped up. He wasn’t wrong. He knew it. If he was wrong, she would have jumped at the opportunity to flee his side. Instead, she glowered at him.

“I said I’d go to dinner with you, so I will.”

“Nope. Not good enough. Things need to be clear between us. If you go out with me, it’s a date.” He slid closer to her, tilting her chin back with his thumb. She stared up at him defiantly, refusing to admit she wanted him. Refusing to give in. “Just answer the question, Brianna.”

Her chin jutted out with stubborn defiance. “Fine. We’re going on the
stupid
date. Happy?”

He fought back a grin. He didn’t like to show his emotions too clearly. Nicole had always mocked him for being transparent. The simple memory wiped away all traces of a smile. “And you’re going out with me because…?”

“Because I want to.” She gritted her teeth. “Not because I have to for my job.”

“Good. Now I can do this without feeling guilty.”

He gripped her wrists, dragged her close, and captured her lips. She tensed, twisted, and tugged. If she’d jerked away, if she’d cursed at him, he’d have let her go.

Instead she melted to him with a breathy little moan, her lips parting beneath his.

He groaned and let go of her. Her arms wrapped around his neck and she dragged him closer, arching her supple body into his. She was like fire wrapped in silk, and she opened to him with an almost vicious eagerness.

His tongue darted past her lips to taste her. She was sweet, luscious, her flavor wild and molten. A tight ache of need unfurled inside him—a craving he’d been denying for far too long. She raked her fingers over his shirt, fisted handfuls of the cotton, and pulled him closer. The heated, wet depths of her mouth dragged him into an undertow of fire that threatened to drown him in the untapped wells of passion sleeping under her cold shell.

They nearly ravaged each other, fingers grasping and clutching at clothing, mouths pressed together with a hunger that bordered on madness. Her breasts heaved against his chest, the twin points of her nipples pressing into him, taunting him. She was panting, pliant, and he wanted her. Here. Now. Raw and rough in the back of the damned cab if he had to.

The cabbie cleared his throat. The car eased to a halt. With a growl, Thomas tore his lips from hers and looked down at her. The glazed look in her eyes, the wanton need written on her face, punched him in the gut. He almost ignored the cabbie. The intensity of the sudden, overwhelming need she roused in him was disturbing. He was accustomed to having to hold himself back.

But one kiss from her made him feel like his leash had snapped.

He rested his forehead against hers. His lips ached from the roughness of their kiss. “We’re here.”

She took a shaky breath. She looked beautifully dazed, almost confused, and she jerked back from him, blinking, darting a glance at the cabbie. “R-Right.”

He shoved his hand into his pocket, tossed a twenty to the cab driver, and helped Brianna from the car. It was more telling than anything that she let him, laying her delicate hand against his arm with her eyes downcast. Her mouth was reddened, her hair disheveled, and he couldn’t help a fierce and primitive sense of pride. He’d broken her poise.
He’d
left her flushed, flustered, deliciously disarrayed.

To hell with dinner. He was taking her straight to his room.

Chapter Four

As the cab pulled away in a crunch of gravel, Brianna smoothed her disarrayed clothing and looked anywhere but at Thomas. Good God, she’d been all over the man. She wasn’t even sure what had happened. He’d kissed her, and some long-dead part of her had come very suddenly and very vocally to life.

And that part of her wanted his body atop her, locked with her, filling her until she screamed.

Guilt sank its ugly claws into her. What was she doing? She looked down at the band of paler skin on her ring finger and clenched her fingers. It had been far too long since she’d looked at a man, let alone let herself go like that. The last time had been clumsy fumbling with some guy from a dating site. She’d realized then that she didn’t want to get back into the world of awkward first dates and disastrous attempts at forced intimacy.

She’d realized that she couldn’t replace
him
, and his shadow would always follow her through every failed relationship, every moment of doubt that when the next man said,
It’s not you, it’s me,
he meant,
It’s you. It’s you and all your baggage.

Thomas would be no different. Just because her body didn’t have the sense God gave little green apples didn’t mean she had to let it rule her choices. She needed to keep her distance, or she’d be in trouble faster than she could say “blackjack.”

He offered his arm, but she retreated a step. Calm. Composure. She drew herself up and forced a polite smile. “I think this was a bad idea. I’d like to go home now.”

He rocked back on his heels, his face open and vulnerable for once. He didn’t look like he was any more in control of what had happened back in that cab then she was. It made her relax a tiny bit.

Meeting her eyes, he asked, “Do you really want to go home? Or are you just a little bit scared of what happened? I’ll admit, it was pretty damn intense.”

“Well, yes and no.” She blew out a breath. If he was going to be completely honest, then so would she. “This scared me, yes. This is entirely unlike me. I don’t normally do…do
that
. In the back of a cab. With a stranger.”

His grin was wolfish. Dangerous. And it sent delicious tremors right down into the heart of her. “If
that
was any indication…you’ve been needing to for a long time.”

Wrong thing to say—even if he was absolutely correct. “You have no idea what I do or don’t need.”

He stepped closer, his nostrils flaring. “I know that I need you. I know that I don’t want you to leave, but will stand here and watch you drive off in a cab if you want to go.”

She closed her eyes.
Need
wasn’t an adequate word to describe the molten thing curling in her stomach and flowing lower with every moment, but if she stayed…she knew she would end up in his bed. Tonight. Did she really want that? Was she ready?

“I don’t want to go,” she finally whispered.

Before the words were completely out of her mouth, he was behind her—wrapping his arms around her, pulling her back against his body. Lust was a potent thing that left her dizzy. The heat of him wrapped around her until she felt lewd, a flush of arousal swallowing her like a burning, wet mouth licking everywhere over her skin.

And from the way he pressed into her, at least one part of him was very honestly, genuinely interested in her. In what they’d been doing in the back of the cab. In what they could be doing upstairs in just a few minutes.

His broad hands spread over her stomach, smoothing down the front of her skirt with a deliberate touch. His voice rumbled in her ear, rough and compelling. “Come inside with me.”

She trembled. Trembled and pressed back against him. Her breasts felt heavy, her nipples achingly sensitive, the pulse between her thighs hot and ready, every part of her aching for that touch to wander a little more. She licked her lips. “Is this why you brought me here?”

“No,” he said, and pulled her tighter against him until she could feel his heartbeat throbbing in the hard flesh pressed against her bottom. “I brought you here because my hotel has a fabulous Mexican restaurant that doesn’t even have salads on the menu.”

Her laughter burst out before she could stop it, then trailed into a sigh as his lips feathered over her neck. His stubble teased her until every light brush against her throat sent prickles through her entire body.

“Thomas—Thomas, we’re outside on the sidewalk—”

“Then let’s not be.”

He drew back, leaving her cold. Before she could protest, he laced his fingers with hers and drew her toward the door.

She followed him without speaking.

Words were pointless. When she decided to stay, she knew exactly what she was getting herself into. She fell silent and followed him into the hotel. His long strides slowed past the front door, relaxing into casual arrogance. She stole a quick glance up at him. His face was impassive—but when he caught her look from the corner of his eye, the heat smoldering there sent a thrill through her that left her thighs aching.

God, she was really going to do this. Have meaningless sex with a man she barely knew.

She almost chickened out at the elevator. Almost protested, but then the doors opened and he pulled her inside with sure, easy strength. They were the only ones inside; he hit the button for the seventh floor.

The moment the doors shut, he was on her.

Her breath flew from her as those godforsakenly wondrous hands curled against her waist and pushed her back against the steel wall of the elevator. His body, wild savagery barely caged inside the civilized layer of his shirt, pressed hot against her.

His lips melded to hers. He ravished her mouth, filling her with the taste of him, caressing her so deeply it was delicious. Indecent. Lascivious.
Obscene
, and so unlike her that, as she melted under his kiss, she wondered dimly who this soft, yielding woman was, moaning in his arms.

Then his fingers stroked down over her hips and dragged her close; his cock nudged against her, hard and sinful and thrilling. She whimpered and clung to him. That wanton woman she didn’t recognize wrapped her legs around his waist. The hard heaviness of him spread her thighs until they hurt, and her skirt inched up her legs, baring her to him. Baring her to the burning pressure of him, the insistent need nudging against her, teasing her through panties so thin she almost felt him against her bare skin.

The elevator doors slid apart with a soft chime. Without releasing her mouth or her body, he carried her into the hallway. His hands slid down to cup her ass, fingers gripping with a maddening roughness. With every slow, blind, fumbling step down the hallway, his mouth ravished hers until she was trembling, panting, biting him with an urgency that simmered under her skin and trembled in her bones.

With a husky snarl, he slammed her up against the door of a room. The breath knocked from her. The door rattled in its frame. His mouth dipped to her throat, but she tangled her fingers in his hair and dragged him back to kiss him. She wanted to taste more of him. Devour him. Sink into him and never let go.

She wasn’t sure how he got the door unlocked. Wasn’t sure when his hand left her ass and found the keycard. She dimly heard the beep of the security lock over the harsh mingling of their breaths. Then the door opened behind her and they nearly fell into the room together. He raked his hands over her body, lingering to caress the outer curves of her breasts. She tore at his tie, ripping it off him hungrily.

He stopped kissing her long enough to allow her to yank his tie off. His hand slid under her blouse and touched her with brushes so light she quivered with a fierce and fiery sensitivity. Slowly, with a deliberation that left her feeling shamefully exposed, he drew her shirt up and off. It fell to the floor with his tie. He fell still, simply looking at her, his eyes unreadable and darkly intense.

She fought the urge to cover herself. Old insecurities she thought long dead and buried crept back up. This man was pure perfection. But she met his eyes—and sucked in a harsh breath. His eyes blazed with desire, leaving no doubt.

He wanted her.

His gaze seemed to strip her of more than her clothing, making her feel vulnerable. Fear and longing twined inextricably. His thumbs grazed her cheekbones; his lips brushed hers with a softness that made her burn for something more. Something rougher, deeper, hotter—but he stopped. Denying her. Tormenting her.

“I can stop,” he whispered against her mouth, every syllable brushing her lips tauntingly. “If you want to leave, leave now. Last chance.”

“Don’t,” she gasped, and rocked up against him. “Don’t you dare stop.”

With a rough sound, his mouth crashed against hers, his tongue sliding past her lips to claim her again. It was like letting an animal free from its cage, and the beast was ravenous. He cupped her breasts. His thumbs grazed over the sheer fabric, taunting her nipples until she arched into his hand and sucked in a sharp breath. Her fingers found his hair again, tugged as if he were the only thing anchoring her in the rough tide of pleasure. God, she needed him so badly. Hadn’t realized how much she missed a man’s touch until now.

When he squeezed her nipples, she moaned and clawed at his shirt. Her fingers fought with the buttons as she nibbled at his throat, then licked the sting away. She fumbled. Need made her clumsy—and her damned fingers kept slipping off the tiny plastic buttons.

“Shit.” He yanked his shirt off. Buttons flew in every direction. She tightened her legs around his hips and rubbed against him. Her bra clasp slipped open with a simple flick of his wrist. Her breasts spilled free and into his hands.

He cupped them, drawing in a ragged breath. He pressed her tighter against the wall and rolled her nipples between his thumbs and fingers. His mouth captured hers again. She scraped her nails down his back. God, his body was hard. Tight. So damned perfect. She traced his abs down to his pants, and when her fingers hit fabric, she tugged at his waistband.

He let go of her, and she slipped down onto her own two feet—and then onto her knees. He pulled a condom from his pocket. She stole it.

“Not just yet.”

He looked down at her in surprise. “Brianna?”

She cupped his erection, pressing her palm against his heat through the fabric. His abdominal muscles clenched and he hissed. She unbuttoned his slacks and let them fall to his ankles. With a teasing kiss to his stomach, she drew his boxers down. Once he was free from his clothing, she wrapped her fingers around his smooth shaft, leaned in, and flicked her tongue against the tip of his cock. He groaned and buried his hands in her hair, rocking his hips against her mouth.

She licked the head, then took him into her mouth. She teased him with her lips and tongue and gentle suction. His shuddering groans, the hot pulse of him on her tongue, stole her breath and left her hot, craving. His fingers clenched in her hair, spasming, and he let out a tortured sound. His hips jerked, and his cock pushed against the back of her throat.

“You have to stop,” he gasped hoarsely.

She drew back. “Last chance for
you
to leave.”

When he growled, she flashed him a slow smile and tore the condom wrapper open. With one last teasing nuzzle, she rolled the condom over his length. He bit off a curse and pulled her to her feet. His lips closed over hers without a moment’s hesitation. He grabbed her skirt, flipped it up, and pressed her back against the wall again. His thumb hooked her panties and dragged them aside.

She quivered at his touch and moaned into his mouth. He pulled away for just a moment—then, with one smooth, almost violent thrust, buried inside her, filling her so completely she thought she would burst. She gasped out a ragged cry and dug her nails into his back, raking him with every inch that burned her, stretched her, took her.

He withdrew, then thrust harder. Smoother. Again and again, and she met each stroke, each touch, with a need she’d never known she could feel. Her throat was tight, her eyes hot, her ears ringing with her own wild cries. When he reached between them and found her clit, she lost all control. His strokes built the pressure to a boiling point until she tensed in his arms and her need unraveled into a burst of vivid pleasure, a pinnacle of luscious tension that threatened to break her deeply sensitized body. He snarled and plunged into her one last time, before joining her in a trembling, clutching release.

He dropped his forehead to her shoulder. His ragged breathing teased her throat.

“Holy shit.”

She let out a wordless affirmative groan and rested her head on his shoulder. She felt like she’d run a marathon, her entire body sore. God, they didn’t even make it to the bed. Hell, they’d barely made it into the room. She’d needed that, desperately. It had probably been building up inside her since Michael—

Michael.

The heat and blissful buzz bled from her, leaving her heavy and cold. What the hell had she just done? Thrown herself at a man she hardly knew, that was what. When she knew better. When she had responsibilities that didn’t give her these kinds of freedoms.

And he’d probably go back to the office and brag to the other execs about bagging the account by bagging that frigid bitch.

“You’re tense,” he rumbled. He drew back. Dark, intense eyes searched hers. “What’s wrong?”

She closed her eyes. She couldn’t look at him. Not when he’d see the shame on her face, in her eyes—and she’d likely see the triumph in his, as arrogant as the rest of him. She swallowed past her aching throat and opened her eyes.

“Let me down, please.”

He said nothing, but after a moment he separated their bodies carefully; she fought not to cry out as he slipped out of her, leaving her throbbing and sore and feeling, as much as she hated it, deliciously
used
. But that’s all it was, wasn’t it? He’d used her for pleasure.

And she’d used him.

She smoothed her clothing, pulling her skirt down. Damn it, her hands were shaking, fumbling, clumsy. She choked out a curse.