No Romance Required (15 page)

She tried to nod but wasn’t sure she managed to move. He slicked the ice over her
skin, sending rivulets of cool water down her hot flesh. She gasped again just from
the contrast in sensation. From the longing on his face, so naked and raw that her
throat closed with emotion.

Now he was so careful with her, working off the wax with the ice and his fingers,
finally scraping the remnants away with a butter knife. He coasted the ice over her
again and again, circling her nipples, freezing them and then setting them ablaze
with the pressure of his tongue and teeth.

She called on everything she’d learned in yoga not to shake in earnest, but when his
agile fingers slid a chunk of ice along the slick lips of her sex, she gave into the
climax poised to leap inside her. She came and came, shuddering through the ecstasy
spinning through her system. Drowning in it while she chanted his name like a song
on repeat.

When she finally became aware of her surroundings again, she was cuddled against Cory’s
strong chest, her wet face pressed into his throat. Back and forth he rocked her while
he murmured words of comfort against her hair.

“I’ve got you. You’re with me, baby.” Her tears only flowed harder as he said those
most prized words once more. “You’re mine.”

She clung to him, shameless in her need. Right then, the moisture splashing his skin
seemed like another gift she could give him, one even more precious than her body.
He just held her while she held him, their chests so close that his racing heartbeat
mirrored her own.

As her trembles began to slow, he removed her heels, then carried her upstairs to
the bathroom. He set her down gently in the shower and stepped in behind her, closing
the door and turning the water on warm. She couldn’t stop shivering.

He pulled her back against him, enveloping her in his powerful arms again, kissing
the side of her neck so gently, so lovingly, that she couldn’t help the renewed flow
of tears. She spoke, she knew she did. But she couldn’t make sense of the gibberish
that tumbled out of her while she gave herself up to him. Again.

He ran his hands up her torso, over her breasts, up her shoulders, and finally her
face. She leaned back, the water hitting her full-on as he caressed her, his fingers
as reverent as his mouth on her throat. Everything she’d bottled up for so long—her
love, her fear, her overwhelming need—poured out of her and he took it all.

Under his patient touch, everything but the love that burned hotter than the brightest
flame dissolved.

…

Cory held Victoria in the crook of his arm, her soft sleep noises making him smile.
That he could still smile even while contemplating the destruction of the most precious
relationship he’d ever had said more than he cared to examine.

Their night together had exceeded his greatest expectations. He hadn’t even come and
he’d never experienced anything more powerful.

Granted, he’d had occasion to regret his missed orgasm during the long, sleepless
night. But it was a small loss in the scheme of things.

He glanced down at the tangle of blond hair on his chest. She’d curled one fist against
her mouth and her lids twitched occasionally as if she were dreaming. Her soft, bare
breasts pressed into his skin, an almost unbearable torment. Even the sheet twisting
over his hips when she moved made him grimace.

Instead of snuggling with her—at least they weren’t
spooning
—he should get up and take care of his erection. She would be safe in bed for a few
minutes. He just couldn’t bring himself to let her go.

She probably didn’t realize the vulnerable state she would be in for quite a while,
but he did. After play like they’d engaged in, her emotions would likely be all over
the place, and he wasn’t about to leave her by herself.

Even if he desperately wanted to be alone so he could kick his own ass for taking
things so far to begin with. And maybe rub a few out, just to take the edge off.

What the hell had he been thinking, pushing her to that extent when he knew how on
edge she was? She’d had a rough day and he’d pressed his advantage until she’d been
a gorgeous, volatile bundle in his arms, her tears scoring his skin as heatedly as
every drop of wax.

She’d come so beautifully, without reservation. Her body had been his to pleasure,
and protect, and cherish. He just hadn’t planned on getting her heart, too.

He shut his eyes, willing away the picture of her body in his arms in her shower.
Hair dripping in two long tails, head bowed, shoulders shaking. It wasn’t her sobs
that had shaken him to the core. With how tightly she’d held herself together since
the first night they’d talked about her mom leaving, he’d known she was a powder keg
ready to blow. But things had progressed way beyond that.

“I love you, Cory.”

When he’d done his research, he’d learned the importance of aftercare once a scene
was over. He’d read about how the endorphin rush released during orgasm, especially
the kind of orgasms often achieved during a scene, could lead to a painful emotional
drop afterward. Most likely that drop accounted for her whispered declaration.

Would
she
realize that though? Did he even want her to?

He’d been prepared to fight for her love. To earn it like he’d earned everything else
in his life: with patience and hard work. He’d never expected she would just give
it to him before he’d proven himself worthy of it.

She shifted in his arms and he smoothed kisses over her brow until she settled. Sure
she was on the verge of sleep again, he let his gritty eyes close.

“Cory?”

Somehow he managed not to groan. She sounded so…tremulous. He couldn’t deal with a
vulnerable, naked Victoria at three-flipping-a.m. while he had the hard-on from hell.
“Go back to sleep.”

Please. Let me pretend I’m not a lech with the sensitivity of an ogre.

“You’re not asleep.”

“Very observant of you, lady Sherlock.” He opened his eyes, uncertain how she would
receive the flippant remark.

She turned her grin against his chest. “You wake up grumpy. Why doesn’t this surprise
me?”

“Didn’t wake up. Been up.”

She lifted her head and her damp hair tumbled forward over her shoulders, making her
look impossibly young. And impossibly sexy, all huge eyes and pouty lips.

His cock stirred. Christ, why’d he have to think of her lips? Glossy and plump. So
damn wet.

This time, he had no hope of stifling the groan.

Wearing nothing but a devious smile, she trailed her cool hand down his stomach. She
encircled his rigid cock before he had a chance to plead for mercy, but once she had
him in hand, he wasn’t about to say a word.

“You’re definitely up,” she purred appreciatively, bending to take him in her mouth
.

With one stroke of her nimble tongue, he shook like a strung-out junkie. He wrapped
her hair around his wrist, helpless against the need to guide her, to drive her down
farther so that the moans she was making deep in her throat rippled over his length.
She tugged his sac, adding an erotic edge of pain.

He clenched his ass to stem the tide that already threatened to drag him under. Her
eagerness stoked his excitement, building it higher and higher until his hips flexed
and he fisted her hair, prepared to give in—

She stopped.

Groaning, he eyed her as if she were a wild animal as she drew her liquid velvet mouth
up his cock so slowly that he knew she felt every ridge, every vein, every pulse.
Then she crawled up his body to straddle him and wrapped her agile hands one on top
of the other on his erection. She twisted them in opposite directions, loosing a growl
from his throat.

Her tongue peeked out between her lips, luring him. Just as she intended. “Do you
want me?”

“You know I do.”

“Enough to beg?”

He narrowed his eyes. He didn’t beg. Ever. For anyone.

She vised her hands tighter, inciting a pressure in his balls that shot streaks of
scalding heat up his spine. “You can come like this.” She looked down at herself,
and her intimate inspection nearly did him in. “All over my breasts. My stomach. Or…”
She brushed her wet center against him and his eyes crossed on their way to rolling
back in his head. “Inside me, so deep you’re all I feel.”

Leaning forward, she pressed her palm against his belly and the muscles jumped. With
her other hand, she rubbed him against her wet folds, saturating him with her desire.
Teasing him with it until he growled again and notched his hand on her waist, driving
her down onto him in a swift, inexorable motion.

She looked so surprised he’d taken the upper hand that he jerked up into a sitting
position and locked his hand around her neck, bringing her slack mouth to his laughing
one. “Sweetheart, you’ll never be as strong as me.”

But suddenly he was the weak one, caught in her awed expression as she gripped his
shoulders and started to move. They were so close like this, her knees beside his
hips, their mouths sliding together but not linked. He breathed in the sweet scent
of cherries mixed with that faint scent of wax that still clung to her skin. Her sigh
whispered over his lips like a kiss and he powered upward, burying himself inside
her so that her longing throbbed in his blood as well.

She gasped at his sudden urgency, her eyes just as unguarded now as they were earlier.
The shutters on her emotions hadn’t come down to block him out yet and he reveled
in the sensation, knowing he was inside her in a way far beyond the physical.

And he wanted it. He wanted to learn everything about her, to be the only man she
trembled for with her heart in her eyes while her slim hips rode him to completion.

She changed the angle, rising higher before bending back, doing more of those acrobatics
that sent his system into overdrive. She squeezed around him, scorching him with her
excitement, urging him to follow her lead. He clasped her swollen breasts and she
cried out, the broken sound triggering the plea he’d never believed he would give.

“Please, Vic. For me. Now.”

A quaver went through her and her eyes closed. Then she was moving faster, the pinch
of her nails dragging down his arms encouraging him to race with her, to drive her
as hard as they both needed. To take them to the finish.

She came first, but barely. Her first spasm sent him over, crashing hard into the
wall. Mouths colliding, he thrust his hips up to meet hers one final time. Their arms
wrapped tight, their lips sealed together, and he embedded himself as deep as he could
go in her giving body. It still wasn’t close enough.

It would never be enough.

He dropped his head to her breasts and let his mind go blissfully blank. The night
had taken its toll. All he wanted was to stretch out with her and sleep. Just sleep.

But he forced himself to look up, to make sure she was okay. That was his duty. Her
tiny, smug smile was his reward.

He traced the corners of that smile, honored that he’d earned another tonight. “There
it is. Thank you for adding more to my collection.”

“So you have a mental smile bank instead of a spank bank.”

“You’re the only one who puts deposits in it. Though, now that you mention it, you’ve
deposited quite a few things in the latter lately.” He laughed at her halfhearted
shoulder smack.

Her hand flexed, as pale as a sunbeam against his darker skin. “Your mom invited me
to a girls-only packing party tomorrow. Do you think she’d mind if I brought Jill?”

“You don’t have to go if you don’t want to.”

“I thought that was my loverly duty.”

“Girlfriend duty,” he corrected, wincing inwardly when she removed her hand. “I won’t
be there so it’s not necessary. Besides, you don’t…it’s not…” Shit, he was about to
stutter. Was he that tired? “You hate lying. I don’t want to make it worse for you.”

The smile she gave him now was the exact opposite of what he’d dubbed her orgasm smile.
“Appreciate it, but I’ll be fine. It’ll keep Jill out of trouble. Monday’s ladies’
night at the bar.” She sighed heavily. “That girl’s going to be the death of me.”

“What do you care what she does? You’re not her mother.”

Her sharp glance made him want to snatch the words back, even if he didn’t know why.
“She doesn’t have a mother anymore, so I’m all she’s got. I made a promise to make
sure she stays on the right path, and I’m going to keep it.”

“Where is her mother?”

“She died.” A quick blink and the sheen that brightened her eyes for a moment was
gone. “Jill was her only child, and she wanted me to watch over her. If I have to
put a damn chastity belt on the girl to protect her virtue, by God, I will.”

He snorted out a laugh. “She’s twenty-two, correct? Sure there’s anything left to
protect? Nowadays girls are usually pretty young, aren’t they?”

She waved her hand. “Town skank here, remember?”

“Stop it.” He grabbed her hand and pulled it against his chest. “I don’t want to hear
that word out of your mouth again or I’ll—”

When he trailed off, she grinned. “Debase me some more?”

Chapter Thirteen

Cory reeled back as if she’d struck him. No, he probably would’ve flinched less at
that. “That’s what you think of what we did?”

Dear God, had he read her completely wrong? Maybe she wanted her fun, but only a certain
kind. The safe kind that rode in on motorcycles and rode out of town just as quickly.

Had tonight just been another experience for her bucket list? He’d been sure that
the level of intimacy they’d reached had meant something to her as well. Maybe not
love, despite her words in the shower. Of course not love.

But still, they’d connected. Or so he’d stupidly believed.

When he would’ve pushed her back and risen, she grabbed his shoulder. “Don’t be an
idiot. I was just kidding. I liked everything we did.” None too gently, she turned
his face back to hers. “Correction: I
loved
everything we did. I’ve never—” She blew out a breath. “It’s never been like that
for me before.”

He stared somewhere over her shoulder. “I realize I have atypical tastes.”

“Couldn’t prove it by me. I once dated a guy who had a thing for my feet. And when
I say thing, I mean he used to like me to jerk him off with them. We broke up after
he wanted to photograph my toes wrapped around his dick. By then my arches were permanently
cramped.”

It wasn’t right to laugh at someone else’s kink. He knew that better than anyone.
But between her straightforward delivery and her grin, he couldn’t have held back
if he tried.

“Moral of the story? Leave the camera at home.” His gaze drifted to the ceiling and
his breath stuttered. “You have my solar system.”

She leaned up and nuzzled his jaw. “You didn’t see it before?”

“When did you take it?”

“Your mom invited me over for lunch yesterday. We did some packing and she offered
me some of your other things.” She smiled wistfully as heat wound through his chest.
“It was always my dream to live in a house like that, with a family like yours. Not
that I don’t love mine, but you know.”

Looking at his parents and brother from her perspective, he saw all he’d taken for
granted. And it stung.

“Is that why you became an interior designer?” When she stared, it was his turn to
shrug. “So you could create your dream house over and over.”

She lowered her lashes. “You know, Cory Santangelo, your brain is a sexy thing to
behold.”

“Thanks. I think.”

“It’s a compliment. And speaking of designing things, your brother commissioned me
to take over the last of the party planning for your parents’ going-away party. Apparently
your secretary isn’t enjoying the process.”

“My secretary has been otherwise occupied with actual work,” he said drily. “You’re
not a party planner.”

“No, but I sure do love doing up a banquet hall, and I also love your parents.” She
grinned. “Besides, most of the work’s already done. At this point it’s just tallying
up RSVPs, confirming things with the caterers and Lex, and making sure everything’s
set. Then Jill and I get to create a fall wonderland.”

Giving in to the urge, he tucked her even closer. He didn’t want to let her go. Ever.
The more time he spent in her company, the more certain he was that theirs was no
temporary arrangement. If he didn’t move to change what they had soon, the going-away
party would come and go and she might think her duty was done.

She might think
they
were done.

The idea of dating seemed anticlimactic at this point. For God’s sake, he’d already
dripped hot wax over her body and held her while she cried. Twice. They’d known each
other since they were children. The parts of her he hadn’t explored yet, he was determined
to. So what if she could be impulsive and hard to predict? Lately he’d been those
things, too. And he
liked
it.

No, he loved it. He loved—

Cory closed his eyes. One step at a time. First things first, he needed a strategy.
If he wanted her forever, he had to make sure he gave her ample reason to take the
chance of her life with him. Whether she loved him now or not, they’d get there. She
deserved the world, and he wanted to give it to her.

Or he would, once the shakes wore off.

She poked him in the shoulder. “Why so quiet?”

He made himself focus on the ceiling. “You put Pluto too close to Neptune.”

“Get up there and fix it then. Later.” She cuddled closer. “So…wanna spoon?”

He didn’t even cringe. She made him happy. Hell, she made him want to pretend he was
a utensil with her. “Roll over. I get the back.”

She waggled her brows. “It’s all yours.”

Chuckling, he smacked her ass as she turned over. “I’ll remind you of that some other
time.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll remember,” she teased.

He kissed her bare shoulder and settled in for sleep. Tonight, maybe he’d actually
get some. “Me too.”

His cell went off way too early. Or he was way late, depending. Monday morning meant
rising early. No dillydallying in bed.

Cory cocked open an eye and peered at Victoria’s alarm clock. It faced the wall and,
he discovered, wasn’t plugged in. No wonder she was late so often.

He snatched his phone off the nightstand so it didn’t wake her and strode into the
connected bathroom. It was the printer. Due to a scheduling problem, if he didn’t
get the final page proofs to them today, he likely wouldn’t get his preferred street
date. Unless he wanted to change his four-color options or his quantities, neither
of which he was prepared to do.

His next phone call was to the graphic designer who produced the magazine. She could
get the photos in the layout that morning, but only if he got them to her within the
next ninety minutes. Oh, and he might as well sign over his checkbook, because she
intended to bleed him dry.

Cursing under his breath, he agreed and hung up.

Dammit. He and Vic hadn’t gone over Friday’s photos yet, and she’d told him last night
she had a full slate of clients to see today. They’d moved their regular Monday magazine
to Tuesday this week, due to an issue that had arisen with a sunroom. Or playroom.
Something like that. He knew the shots would be amazing, but it would still take some
time to cull the best ones.

He walked back into the bedroom and sighed affectionately as he glanced at the bed.
Vic was naked and sprawled on her belly, dead to the world. The chances he could get
her up and dressed before he had to be at the graphic designer’s were slim to none.

Moving quickly, he left her a vague note on the nightstand. After her roller coaster
of emotions the night before, she needed to rest, not to come chasing after him. He
skipped a shower and put his tuxedo back on. He’d just have to wear his Sunday best
to work and endure all the stares.

A grin curled his mouth as he kissed the back of her head. It had been so worth it.
They’d have many more nights just like that if he had his way.

And he would.

His grin widened as he pressed another kiss into the small of her back. He could be
very persuasive when he wanted to be.

He caught himself humming as he hurried out to his car. He’d set his sights on making
Victoria his for real, and he wouldn’t back down until she truly belonged to him.
Now all he had to do was determine the most expeditious way to get the job done.

…

Vicky woke to an empty, cold bed. She should’ve been surprised, but she wasn’t. Some
part of her had expected him to take off. After all, he was the master evader, slipping
free of any potential entanglements before he got too knotted up, and she’d made a
huge mistake.

She’d told him the truth.

She hadn’t realized what she’d said in the shower until late at night, when she’d
been enfolded in his arms and the moonlight had sketched the planes of his face for
her as if she didn’t have them memorized. She’d studied the bow of his lips, the angles
of his cheekbones and jaw, the fringe of his eyelashes. Though she’d told herself
she was just enjoying the typical postcoital glow, she’d known better.

He would leave, because she didn’t know how to make him stay.

More than likely she was just one more complication to him. One more way to pass the
time until he could extricate himself and move on.

But she wouldn’t. Much as she hated to admit it—even to herself—he owned her body
and soul. Probably she’d leased him the first slice of her heart back at her ninth-grade
dance, when she’d first seen him dancing with her sister.

It might’ve become one of those sweeping movie moments if anything had happened between
them after that. He hadn’t crossed the room to find out who Vicky was. She hadn’t
made some big play for him, determined to pry him from her sister’s disinterested
clutches.

They’d gone their separate ways, occasionally crossing paths. He’d been the first
one to question why she’d “thrown away” her fine mind on design. She hadn’t bothered
to explain to him why she’d felt called to her profession, but he’d finally figured
it out all on his own.

Over the years, they’d developed an uneasy, sometimes combative quasi-friendship born
from shared acquaintances and proximity. Neither had made a move on the other, and
maybe there were good reasons for that.

He wouldn’t ever love her the way she needed him to. All in, nothing held back. He
was married to his work, and somehow along the way she’d fallen for him too deeply
to be smart. She couldn’t just content herself with his credit cards and his fancy
parties and pretend that great sex and laughter were enough. She wouldn’t settle for
anything less than all of Cory Santangelo, even the parts he was afraid to give her.
Especially those.

She sat up and rested her head in her hands, letting the tears come. She cried for
her mother, doing Popsicle-stick crafts in a room with a window that didn’t let in
any light. For her father, tossing dice on a table surrounded by strangers. She cried
for Jill, trying to pretend she didn’t miss her mom anymore and only cared about fun,
fun, fun. For her big brother, fighting to pretend that he didn’t want anything more
than beer and babes.

And she cried for herself, for so stupidly falling for someone who couldn’t have been
more perfect for her if she’d created him with her own hands.

When she didn’t have any more tears left, she rose and took a hot shower. She dressed
quickly and threw her hair up in a bun.

Throwing herself into work helped the day pass more quickly, though she really wasn’t
in any hurry for the night to arrive. Eventually she forced herself to stop checking
her phone.

He didn’t call until late afternoon. She’d known he would eventually. He might be
as hard to pin down as an eel in a bowl of Jell-O, but he took his responsibilities
seriously. While she was his fake girlfriend, he counted her as one of them.

She let the call go to voice mail. And the next.

What was she supposed to say to him now? She could always tell him she didn’t really
love him. Or pretend it hadn’t ever happened. Better yet, she could avoid his calls
until she absolutely had to see him tomorrow for their magazine meeting.

Option three worked for her.

By the time she entered his office on Tuesday, she’d snapped her impenetrable emotional
guards on nice and tight.

Then he opened his mouth.

“Why the hell haven’t you returned my calls?” He stood behind his desk and gestured
for her to shut the door. When she didn’t, he did the honors himself with a slam.
“I’ve been worried.”

She gestured at her belted wool dress and knee-length leather boots. After a brief
warm-up, the temperatures had dipped yet again. “Don’t I look fine?”

He stalked toward her and jerked her face up to his, staring so deep into her eyes
that she would’ve sworn her soul quivered. Then he crushed his lips onto hers, staking
his claim. His fingers tensed on her chin while he destroyed her composure with thorough
licks of his tongue. He gentled the kiss after a moment and drew back, reaching up
to trace her jawline.

It took everything she possessed not to respond to the tenderness in his gaze. That
was just fool’s gold. A false reflection of what he didn’t truly feel. If he cared
for her at all, he wouldn’t have left her alone in bed after the night they’d shared.
Without a note, without a text, nothing. He’d fit her in after lunch, which was just
too damn late.

She turned away and dragged the back of her hand over her mouth, eager to wipe his
taste away. “Let’s get to work,” she said, walking to the side table.

“I asked you a question. I called you. Why didn’t you respond?”

“I’ve been busy. I told you I had meetings yesterday. I’m here now, aren’t I?” Catching
a glimpse of a trimmed stack of glossy paper on his blotter, she stepped forward and
slammed her hands on the desk. “What the hell is this, Cory?”

He picked up the object in question. “That is the printer’s page proof of
Simply Home
. Take a look at your cover shot.”

She was already looking, through the steam she knew had to be shooting out of every
available orifice. She snatched the pages from him, not caring that she was crumpling
the expensive paper. “I didn’t pick this shot. I didn’t even get to see the photographs.
I thought we’d agreed I’d be with you on every step.” Fat freaking chance there. She
wasn’t part of every step of
anything
with him. Sex, maybe. But what came after? Nope. Fury swelled in her chest and she
forced it down, focusing on the magazine. She couldn’t do a frigging thing about what
he did—or didn’t—feel for her, but she sure could demand her rights regarding
Simply Home
. The amount of creative control she had over his magazine wasn’t usual, but he’d
agreed to it, dammit. “Since when do you cut me out of this part of the process?”

“Since there was an issue at the printer and schedules changed. If you’ll just calm
down, I’ll—”

“You did
not
just tell me to calm down like I’m a spastic child.” He’d already broken—no, not
broken,
nicked
—her heart. She wasn’t going to let him affect her professional life, too.