No Romance Required (10 page)

He stared at them while she walked to the door.

“Not this woman. You know where to find me, CEO.”

…

Vicky clomped across the pasture, wincing at the mud squishing around her boots. She
lowered her head, forging her way in the evening light toward the hulking dark structure.
In the daylight, the maroon building looked as pastoral as the sprawling farms she’d
driven past as a child. She’d always wanted to live on one, to have chickens to feed,
maybe even a cow or two.

And there would be kids laughing. She could hear them in her mind as she closed her
eyes and reached for the barn door. Her kids wouldn’t have to worry about anything.
They’d never wonder if one day their mommy wouldn’t come home.

They’d never be right.

The simplicity of such a life called to her, even though no one she knew would’ve
ever believed it. She was the party girl, the one who danced on tables and lured hot
businessmen away from family dinners for quick hand jobs in bathrooms and more—hopefully
much more—in dusty barns.

She pulled on the door and grunted in frustration. Dammit, it was locked. Now what?

Sensing someone behind her, she whirled, unprepared for the sensation of Cory’s hot
mouth coming down on hers. Her flirtatious response died at the first brush of his
tongue, seeking and urgent on hers. He reached up to cup her breast, palming it while
they devoured each other.

“You forgot this.” He laid something cold against her throat and she jerked, her head
involuntarily coming up. He latched his mouth on her jaw and lowered the cold thing,
whatever it was, to one of the eager nipples budding through her dress.

She jerked again, hard enough to almost knock them both over. And he laughed. Just
laughed until she shut him up with a kiss that ended with him groaning and hoisting
her into his arms.

“Here.” He slapped the key in her hand and bent his knees, lowering her to reach the
lock. “Get us inside.”

It wasn’t easy. Her fingers felt thick and fumbly, and the early-fall chill had already
seeped into her bones. By the time she fit it into the lock and Cory shouldered the
door open, they were both shivering. Only mid-September and it already looked like
they would have their first frost soon.

The smell of hay and horses hit her first, bringing a sharp sting to her eyes. She’d
spent time in this barn years ago, back when Cory’s mother had invited the Girl Scouts
over for a field trip. They’d had two horses then, Midas and Misty, and she’d spent
an hour brushing Misty’s silky coat while Cory sulked in the corner. Corinne had insisted
her eldest son chip in his knowledge of raising horses, and he had, begrudgingly.

He’d also stared Vicky down as if he couldn’t wait to rid her from his sight. Is that
what Dillon had been referring to?

“Whose bright idea was this again?” Cory kicked the heavy door shut behind them and
grabbed a lantern off the wall, illuminating the gloom for one startling moment before
her eyes adjusted.

“Mine. But no one said you had to go along with it.” Noticing another lantern, she
snatched it off the wall. She smiled as he wrapped his arms around her waist and nuzzled
her neck.

“Your wet panties said it.” He slapped her ass just hard enough to make her cry out—in
approval, not distress. “No sane man could ever say no to you.”

“You’re sane?” She darted away, laughing, as he grabbed for her, then turned on the
second lantern. The two lights offered a nice, warm glow.

Just enough for what she had in mind.

Misty whinnied from the corner and Vicky leaned up on her tiptoes to try to get a
glimpse of the beautiful horse. “I always wanted to ride her,” she said wistfully
when her big, dark head popped over the top of her stall.

“You can ride me instead.” He pulled her against him, backing them toward a huge pile
of hay bales. “We need to make heat somehow.”

“Uh-uh. No riding.” Playfully, she pushed at his chest and dangled her lantern above
her head so she could see the surprise flitting across his face. “We’d be picking
hay out of our asses for weeks.”

“Now there’s a picture,” he muttered. “See why I like beds?”

Nerves flared deep in her belly but she ignored them. She wasn’t timid by nature.
Long ago she’d banished fear to the basement of her life. If something made her nervous,
she faced it head-on. Hell, look at Cory. He scared her shitless and she’d fallen—

No. This was sex. Dirty, inventive sex that would burn any memories of any other woman
but her from his brain. Maybe she’d even burn herself out on him eventually, if she
applied herself to the task. She’d always been good at studying hard.

“You’ll also like this,” she murmured, reaching for the hem of her dress and pulling
it up and over her head before her anxiety had time to rear its warty head.

There was no reason to be afraid of Cory. He would never hurt her, not physically.
And maybe he’d help her to forget that this was just pretend, and the family she’d
spent the evening with would never be anything but on loan. Her own family would most
likely never be in one place again, not with the way they were scattered around the
country. Each of them alone in their own special kind of hell.

But not her. Not tonight. Tonight she would feel everything she could. She’d fill
herself with experiences and sensations she could take out and examine after he’d
gone.

After they were done.

When she stood before him in just her bra and lacy thigh-high hose, she stepped back
until her spine hit one of the support columns that extended to the exposed beams
of the ceiling. She wrapped her fingers around the wood above her head, stretching
herself up like his very own unwrapped gift. Then she spread her legs and invitingly
rocked her hips.

His gaze drifted from her face to her breasts, her nipples as hard as little stones,
to her belly button with its tinkling silver bells, to the damp area between her thighs.
His attention was as hot as a caress, as silky as a swatch of ribbon over her eyes.

She already felt bound, and he hadn’t lifted a finger. Only his chest rose and fell,
betraying the extent of his desire. And his cock pressed against his trousers, a silent
sentinel of his needs.
Her
needs.

Time to test the boundaries of both.

“Wanna tie me up?” She arched onto her toes, savoring every sharp hiss of breath he
released. “Now’s your chance. Going once…going twice…”

Chapter Nine

“You don’t know what you’re asking for,” Cory grated.

Victoria’s golden hair tumbled across one eye, making her look like an ingenue. And
her body… God, it was a work of art. Honed like her agile mind. She never stopped
pushing herself to the limits.

Now she was pushing him.

“So teach me.” Vicky drew her toes up the inside of her opposite leg, looking more
like a ballet dancer than an interior designer. “You accused me of being afraid before.
Yet you’re the one not moving. Who’s scared now?”

She asked it almost lazily, but her eyes stayed steady on his. Measuring. Gauging.
Looking for the chip in his armor that would allow her to burrow so deep inside him
he’d never get her out again.

He moved quickly, striding forward and gripping her throat. She startled at that,
her pupils going wide as he scraped his fingers along her chilly, vulnerable skin.
As pale as snow, as soft as a dream. He bent to sip from her lips, drawing gently
while his thumb circled her fluttering pulse.

Her gaze never left his as he cupped her cheek and traced the fringe of her eyelashes,
the slope of her nose, the line of her jaw. “Grip the pole above your head.”

When she’d done as he asked, he took her mouth again, his lips scarcely whispering
over hers. Her breath puffed out in frosty wisps as he trailed kisses down her chin
and throat, exploring every nuance of her skin. The lantern light played over her
curves, giving them a rosy glow. She looked like a living wet dream and he intended
to take his time exploring her from head to toe.

Deliberately, he didn’t speak. This wasn’t about words, and she didn’t seem to need
them. With a flick of his fingers, he opened her bra. She watched him as he mapped
her body ruthlessly, with the patience of a landscape artist who could spend hours
on one section of sky. Each freckle intrigued him. Each muscle that bunched under
his seeking mouth earned special attention.

He nuzzled the dip between her neck and shoulder, slipped his tongue under the silver
starfish necklace that skimmed her collarbone. She remained absolutely still, her
excitement beating against his lips whenever he licked her tripping pulse.

She was tight all over, but especially the vibrant pink tips of her breasts and the
knot of nerves between her thighs. His thumb stroked her there, hard and fast, while
he lapped at her nipple as delicately as if she were made of glass. When she relaxed,
he nipped her flesh and plunged two fingers deep.

Her first shocked gasp echoed in the drafty barn. Soon there were so many that he
rose to capture her moans with his mouth while he stroked in and out of her wet sex.
He drove her right up to the edge, savoring her moans and quivers, then he slipped
his fingers free. She stared as he freed his cock and slicked his length in her arousal.
Her fingers twitched on the pole as he moved his hand up and down, coating his flesh.
Soaking himself with her.

The sight seemed to hold her transfixed, and she didn’t look away when he hauled her
legs around his waist. “Watch me,” he murmured.

She could only nod.

From her reactions he guessed what she needed and he gave it to her, penetrating her
in one sure thrust. Her lips parted though she made no sound. He exhaled as her snug,
drenched sheath enveloped his dick again and again, the scrape of her nails against
the wood a strangely exciting accompaniment. Her nails could’ve been on his shoulders,
on his back, for all the effect that noise had on his body. He drove into her harder,
faster, wanting to hear her torturing the wood, that unconscious tell more revealing
than her glazed whiskey-colored eyes.

There, she still held some control. But with her hands, with the ripples of her sex
around him, she restrained nothing.

That was what he wanted. Her, totally mindless. Unafraid.
His
.

He drew her up until her back bowed and a broken cry ripped from her throat. His balls
tightened and his own heart went into triple time. He ached for her to let go of her
restraint, to know he was the only man who could take her there.

His thumb found her clit again and he sank his teeth into the top of her breast as
she clenched and gave way, her shudders and moans more arousing to him than anything
he’d ever experienced. She was so strong, so tough, and she yielded to him so beautifully.
Words nearly left him, the kind he’d never let himself feel, never mind say.

He sucked on her skin and jerked her up and down his cock, exploiting his pleasure
and prolonging hers. She cried out again, whipping her head back and forth. And in
the wildness in her eyes, he saw his own. He saw himself and the fight he’d been waging
for so long. He couldn’t fight anymore.

His hips bucked and he spilled himself inside her, heaving and surging into her until
he was dry and she was shaking against him. Around him. Until they were both shuddering
and gasping.

Here, they were distilled to the essence of who they were and what they needed from
each other. She’d trusted him that much. He couldn’t breathe through the wonder of
what that meant.

When she slumped in his arms, he tucked his face in her mass of fragrant curls. She
smelled like the early fall night, fresh and pure.

Her laughter rumbled through her chest. “No one’s ever called me that before.”

He lifted his head, shocked he’d spoken. “Did I really just say the word ‘pure’ out
loud?”

With a few blinks, her smoky eyes were clear again and full of amusement. “Yes, you
really did.”

“I didn’t mean that—what I meant was—” Ah, to hell with it. An answering laugh rose
in him before he could stop it. Then he glanced up at her pale fingers, still wrapped
sinuously around the wooden pole. “Put your hands on me.” His voice came out more
rough than he’d intended.

“Aww, feeling neglected already?” She drew her wicked nails along the back of his
neck and rocked against him, squeezing him where he was still lodged deep. “We can
fix that.”

“Next time,” he kissed her hard, “you better save those scratches for me.”

Only when she smiled did he realize what he’d said.
Next time
.

Impishly, she fluttered her lashes. “How do you feel about
this
time, part two?”

With one flex, he was buried to the hilt again. “Bring it.”

…

After another round of vigorous post sex, an impromptu tickle-fight, and a walk through
the pasture, they finally made it back to the house. They crept in the back door like
guilty children, but as soon as they turned around and saw the three stern faces staring
back at them from the table, Vicky swiftly realized they shouldn’t have bothered.

“We wondered where you two had disappeared to.” Corinne pushed two mugs of hot cider
across the table. “Your drinks are getting cold.”

Vicky tugged uncomfortably at her dress. “Oh, we were just out talking—”

“We went for a walk—”

“You don’t need to continue this ruse any longer.” Corinne folded her hands and looked
at the table. “We know you’re not really dating.”

Vicky tossed a frantic glance at Cory, whose attention rested squarely on his parents.
“Says who?” When they didn’t respond, Cory’s focus shifted to Dillon. “Oh, I get it.
Your golden boy has decided I’m lying. Why are you so curious about my love life,
Dill? Do you want me out of the company or what?”

“Get a grip, man. You know this isn’t about that. We care about what happens to you.
Jesus, I’m not at the damn hospital with my girlfriend right now because I thought
this was more important—”

“Hospital?” Vicky and Cory echoed in unison.

“Nellie was having contractions,” Corinne supplied. “Most likely only Braxton-Hicks
since she’s only in her sixth month, but they’re new parents and understandably nervous.
Plus Nellie had gas. She called it pelvic pressure, but I’m almost certain she’s been
reading too many baby guides.”

“She went to the hospital for
gas
?” Cory asked, clearly perplexed.

“And contractions,” Dillon put in. “Better to be safe, right?”

Corinne nodded. “Alexa and Jake went with her and the rest of the guests decided to
go. We waited for you, thinking you wouldn’t be long—”

“Where did you go? Back to the office?” Raymond put in.

“Or were you huddling in the barn, hoping everyone would leave so you wouldn’t have
to keep up your pathetic acting jobs all night?” Dillon added.

Cory’s lips thinned into a flat line. “Do you want to know why we were gone so long?
Do you really want to know?”

Vicky didn’t know if they wanted to know, but she could say with one hundred percent
certainty
she
didn’t want them to. She laid a hand on Cory’s arm and frowned at the tension flowing
through his pores. A little while ago, they’d both been as relaxed as could be. Now
he seemed ready to chew nails.

“Baby, take it easy.” She used the endearment for Cory’s benefit, not theirs. She
hated seeing him so angry. “We’ll just sit down and talk.”

“There’s nothing to talk about. They’re accusing me of lying, when they haven’t the
foggiest clue of what’s going on.”

“Sweetheart, if we’re wrong, just—”

Cory ignored his mother and glanced at Vicky, his eyes firing with an unholy gleam
that made her take a step back. “Come here.”

Self-preservation kicked in, hard. “No.”

He stepped closer to her and yanked back her collar. She didn’t know what her neck
looked like, but judging from the collective gasp that rose up from the table, she
guessed it wasn’t pretty. Hickeys and stubble burn, the duo of champions. She immediately
smacked his hand away, though she knew it was too late.

She bit her lip, sure she was flushing—and not from being found out. From the memory
of his lips on her skin.

That was it. He was never putting marks on her again. Of any sort.

Okay, she didn’t need to be hasty. No marks of any sort unless she knew they were
going to be alone until they faded.

So…never.

“
That
is what we were doing.” There was no mistaking the male pride in Cory’s voice. Anytime
now he’d probably start strutting across the kitchen like a peacock. Or just a cock,
period. “Not that it’s any of your business.”

“Big deal,” Dillon muttered. “You could’ve rubbed your coat sleeve all over her neck
for all we know. I wouldn’t put it past you.”

“Yeah, because I just let him do whatever he wants to me.” As soon as the words were
out, she cast a sideways glance at Cory.
Well, hmm, yeah.

Cory grabbed her left hand and held it up like a trophy in a prizefight. “And that’s
not all.”

She stared at him. He couldn’t. He wouldn’t—

“We’re together and madly in love.” Her breath left her in a whoosh. “Believe that
or not —” his gaze locked on Vicky for so long that even she started to fall under
his spell “—but the truth stands regardless.”

Which truth? she wondered as her confusion and anger fought for dominance. His or
hers? Because she had a feeling they were not the same.

Conversation slowly resumed, mostly about Nellie and if it was too soon to call Lex
to see how she was. Throughout, Vicky focused on two simple things—inhaling and exhaling.

Three little words shouldn’t break her. Taken apart they didn’t even go together.
Madly
. Yes, she could see being mad, minus the
ly
.
In
. Well, you could be
in
anything. And
love
applied to everything from ice cream to puppies.

See, completely innocuous.

Somehow she got through the next few minutes without losing it. Eventually her resentment
and shock retreated into acceptance. He’d reacted impulsively, but not out of maliciousness.
They were pretending to be a committed couple. Love was often part of that. Just because
she’d never ridden that particular bus didn’t mean she wasn’t familiar with the stops.

Still, had it really been necessary for him to be quite so…convincing? If the statement
itself wasn’t bad enough, his hot, flay-off-her-panties look had dealt her a mortal
blow.

He kept glancing at her, and in his eyes she could read his concern. He was no dummy.
He had to know he’d crossed the line. Even so, unless she wanted to brand him a liar—and
she was sorely tempted—she needed to tap-dance to his tune.

At least until he explained himself and how he intended to make this right.

And maybe bribed her with something significant. Multiple orgasms to start.

“Victoria wants a formal tour of the house,” he said after interminable minutes of
chitchat that made her feel like ants marched up her spine.

Once they’d slipped away, Vicky let him lead her down the hall, though she didn’t
speak when he turned toward her and gripped her shoulders. “I know you’re not happy.
Don’t worry. I’ll fix it.”

She tightened her hold on her mug of cider. So far she’d managed all of two sips,
while he’d thrown back the whole thing in one gulp. “Oh, really.”

“Yes. This was just a stopgap measure.”

“Right. Sure. Because you can just wave a hand and suddenly we aren’t ready to pose
under arbors while we gaze at each other dopily anymore.”

“It’s only for a few weeks. You know this whole thing is just temporary. Come on,
Victoria. Work with me here.“

Her vision blurred and she turned away before he could see her furious blinking. His
proclamation had only driven home her part in the situation. He might’ve been the
one to lay it on thick, but she’d gone along with all of it. Willingly. She was every
bit as guilty as he was. “Temporary lies are still lies, Cory.”

He didn’t respond for so long that she began to think he’d left the room. But when
she glanced back at him, he was staring at her as if she genuinely mattered to him.
Maybe he was just feeling charitable from the time they’d spent in the barn. Or perhaps
the Grinch of Value Hardware’s heart really had grown from two sizes too small.