No Romance Required (9 page)

Unthinkingly, he reached up to grab the shelf above the sink, laden with candles and
other sundries. He gripped the edge and jerked his hips, bearing down into the tight
clasp of her hands.

“Tell me who you dream about, Cory.”

“She’s against the wall,” he murmured, barely aware he was speaking. “Naked. Pale
as moonlight. Her long arms above her head, wrists bound. She’s helpless but she wants
me to control her. She wants to submit.” She jerked, her hand faltering, but he didn’t
stop. Couldn’t. Now that the trapdoor had been opened, he couldn’t slam it shut again.
“She’s begging me to give her relief. To command her pleasure. Already I smell her
arousal. Can taste it on my fingers after I give her what she needs.”

She shivered against him, her small fingers losing their rhythm for an instant before
she slid back into her erotic groove. She moved closer and flexed her pelvis so that
her heat brushed the seam of his ass. Her breasts flattened to his spine, nipples
scoring him even through his thin sweater. How he longed to suck them into his mouth,
biting on her sensitive flesh while the tips flared as red as her dress. “Tell me
more. It’s your wildest fantasy, and you can make it come true.”

Yes, I can. I am. I will.

How could she think he would imagine anyone but her? She fueled his most torrid dreams,
and she was the only one who could bring them to life.

“She has blond hair. Brown eyes, with lashes so light they almost disappear if you
don’t look close. But I do.” Her touch fumbled again, but he didn’t stop. Even if
it felt as if glass lined his throat, he’d get the words out. “In the red sweaterdress
I peeled off her she looks like a miracle.” He gritted his teeth and fought to haul
in air. “I don’t deserve one, but God, she makes me wish.”

She whimpered and pulled hard on his throbbing cock, causing him to curl his fingers
into the shelf. “I’m gonna come.”

“Yes. Please.” She rubbed against his ass, encouraging him to live in the moment with
her. “Give it to me.”

When the rip cord of tension in his body snapped, he let out a muffled shout and yanked
on the shelf, not cognizant of anything but the warm pulses of his release flowing
over her hands and the soothing touch that grounded him through his climax.
Damn. Damn. Damn!

He heard the groan from the wall an instant before Victoria shrieked. And the shelf
and its contents crashed down on top of them.

…

Breathing heavily, Vicky slapped on the light and stared at the mess around them.
Candles and bathroom stuff had flown everywhere. Most of it looked to be intact, thank
God. She turned on the faucet and quickly rinsed the sink and her hands, trying not
to dwell on just how hot it had made her to feel Cory come in her hands.

She glanced over her shoulder as he cupped the bleeding cut on his forehead and tried
to zip up. “Here, let me help,” she said, sure she was blushing furiously.

Way to go, Townsend. Get the guy off, break the bathroom.

“You’re bleeding.” She reached up to stem the tide with a hank of tissue. Flying projectile,
must be. Elephant toothbrush holder maybe, judging from the pieces on the tiled floor.

“It’s okay. Did any hit you?”

She dropped her gaze and stared hard at her feet. As hot as all of this had been,
the shelf collapse had reminded her where she was. At a family party. A normal,
together
family, not fractured like hers was. Her sister out of town again for work, her brother
with his team, her dad who-knows-where in Vegas, playing the slots. And her mom…

It was natural for families to separate as the kids grew up. Hers had just started
really early and it wasn’t the kids who had checked out first.

She sighed and bent to pick up some of the scattered stuff on the floor. She was just
horny, that’s all. Cory had gotten off, but she hadn’t. The family stuff, the faking
stuff, even Dillon’s suspicions weren’t anything to worry about.

So what if she and Cory weren’t anything but a big pair of fakers? Except the orgasms
they’d had. Those were all too real.

If she looked at it right, this was practically the ideal situation. People in her
past had deceived her with declarations about emotions they didn’t truly feel. How
many times had her mother said “I love you” before she’d walked out of her life? This
way she wasn’t building up false expectations. She knew there wasn’t anything between
her and Cory but friendship and fights and work.

And incredible sex.

As for his bondage and submission talk, she wasn’t going there. He couldn’t truly
be into that, could he? She sneaked a glance at him under her lashes and quickly looked
away from his intense stare. Maybe.

No.

She nodded briskly and dumped the pieces of the elephant toothbrush holder into the
trash. “I’m fine.” She turned to face him and tentatively touched the cut on his forehead.
“Are you?”

“Yeah.” He smiled grimly and opened the door. “Lucky for me, I’ve got a hard head.”

He wasn’t the only one. Why else would she chase a man who saw her as a means to an
end—and barely even that? And what would happen when that end came?

Cory let out a long breath as Dillon and a couple other family members appeared in
the hallway. “We heard a crash. Everyone okay?��

“Thank you for your prompt assistance, but as you can see, we’re fine.” Cory glanced
back at Vicky and motioned for her to follow.

As Cory started to walk out, Dillon gave his groin a pointed look. “Fly’s gaping,
bro.”

“Jesus,” Cory muttered, yanking up the zipper.

Behind him, Vicky buried her face against his back and laughed. Guess she’d proven
they couldn’t keep their hands off each other.

“I’m going to get us a couple drinks,” Cory said before heading up the hall in the
direction of the living room. He probably couldn’t wait any longer to get his chance
at another drink.

This was the kind of night that demanded them.

“Getting in a little post-pork quickie action, huh?” Dillon fell into step beside
her. “Nice to see you two getting along so well. And so obviously.”

She frowned and flipped her fingers through her hair. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Just that you were clearly out of sync at dinner and then you stage this big dramatic
sex thing in the bathroom.” Dillon shrugged. “Feels forced is all.”

Vicky came to a halt and propped her hands on her hips. It was handier to stash them
there than to grab hold of Dillon’s sweater and shake him up a bit. She couldn’t solve
everything with violence. Sometimes a deft touch was needed.

Lord help them all.

“First of all, I can assure you, it wasn’t dramatic. If you’d been listening outside
the door, you would’ve heard us laughing.” Well, laughing and…other things.

Dillon crossed his arms over his chest. “You forget I’ve known my brother even longer
than you have. And he doesn’t have sex in public places, excepting that night in the
gazebo. Hell, lately he hardly does in private.”

“Not that I want to be having this conversation with you, but we didn’t have sex.
Just one of its many variations.” With that, she sailed past Dillon up the hall in
search of her missing drink—and her missing lover.

Crisis averted. For now.

Chapter Eight

Cory looked down at the drink in his hand and tried not to bristle at Victoria’s laughter
floating across the living room. The guests made quick work of sorting through and
boxing some family photo albums and had already moved on to the spiked cocoa and conversation
portion of the evening, something Victoria approached with gusto.

It was impossible for him to keep his eyes off her. She melded into the group so naturally,
as if she’d always belonged. Her way with his family helped relax him as well, and
he found himself making small talk and laughing much more than he usually did.

Just glancing across the room and catching her eye, or smiling as she wiggled her
fingers at him from behind her cocktail napkin, improved his mood. There was no denying
that her presence had made this gathering more pleasant. Tonight the buzz under his
skin was desire, not discomfort.

Now she perched on the sofa between his mother and stepfather and seemed to be having
a grand time sans her fake boyfriend. She’d flitted around him but essentially had
avoided getting too close since they’d left the bathroom.

He swirled his brandy and considered her, unsurprised by the telltale tightening in
his groin. Her about-face had taken him by surprise, especially since she’d been revving
pretty hard herself and he hadn’t had a chance to reciprocate. Then again, if she’d
decided he was some kind of pervert, maybe she’d resolved to seek her sexual solace
elsewhere.

There was a reason he didn’t have a bevy of bed partners beyond his packed work schedule.
He couldn’t share his proclivities with just any woman and be certain she wouldn’t
gab to the wrong person. Despite her hesitation and his verbal assertions to the contrary,
he’d believed Victoria could be the right one. At least for this. Since she refused
to see reason enough to keep their relationship platonic, why not push the boundaries
a bit?

It wasn’t as if he needed to play submission games all the time. But Victoria had
asked for his ultimate fantasy. It required total trust and would result in maximum
pleasure for them both. He’d ensure that.

Not that it would ever happen. She gave up control about as easily as he did. Still,
a guy could dream.

Or he could take action. There was more than one way to reach a goal after all, and
a smart strategist always kept his eyes open for new routes. Maybe this one was it.

He marched across the room and snatched her hand, drawing her with him so fast that
whatever she’d been saying died on her tongue. “Sorry, darling. I need you.”

“Oh.” She let out an uneasy laugh. “Okay.”

She made her apologies to his parents before he tugged her away. He didn’t miss his
mom’s and stepfather’s indulgent smiles. Just as well they think he was spiriting
her away for another quickie.

“What’s gotten into you?” she muttered as he dragged her into the dining room and
shut the door.

He leaned back and eyed her, sipping his drink slowly. Seeing her nervous sent a slow
throb through his blood. An edge of fear made desire that much sweeter, and he could
already see hers burning bright in her tawny eyes. “You’re avoiding me.”

“I’m not.”

Her answer was a little too swift, a little too heated. Just what he’d hoped for.
He stepped closer and tipped up her chin with a fingertip. “Did I scare you?”

He didn’t know what answer he preferred more. No…or yes.

She shook her head and let out a tinkling laugh that didn’t soften the worry lines
between her brows. “You couldn’t.”

“I think I could.” His finger wandered up to the corner of her mouth before sliding
along the fullness of her lower lip. Her involuntary jerk made him smile. “You asked
me for my fantasy. I gave it to you. Honestly.”

“I did ask.” Her throat bobbled. “I’m fine with it.”

“Are you now?” His nail trailed along her lip and she darted a look up at him, full
of trepidation. And arousal. There could be no missing that. “Have you ever submitted
to a man, Victoria?”

She jolted, stumbling back. He caught her with a hand locked around her wrist, holding
her in place when he could tell she wanted nothing more than to retreat. But not just
because she was unnerved. Excitement leaked from her pores, as fragrant as her earthy
scent. “I…no. No, I haven’t. Not the way you mean.”

“You’ve never been bound with scarves or handcuffs? Or even just hands on your wrists,
pinning you until you begged for relief?” At her stubborn head shake, he trapped her
racing pulse beneath his thumb. “Someone as adventurous as you living such a vanilla
existence. You surprise me.”

Her chin came up. “There’s nothing fun about someone restraining me.”

“What if the restraints are all in your mind?” He pressed into her skin, knowing he
would leave an indent. Wanting to. “And what if that someone was me?”

She hissed out a breath and yanked her arm away. “I’m not into that. Sorry.”

Even steeled for her reply, disappointment sheared through him. Until he saw her trembling
lips and the way she couldn’t stop staring at him, as if he’d trapped fire in his
gaze and she liked to play with matches.

“I don’t believe you,” he taunted softly. “I think you’re wet for me. So wet you can’t
tighten your legs enough to hide what I’m doing to you.”

She tilted up her chin. “Why don’t you come here and find out?”

If she expected him to refuse, she was sadly mistaken. He shoved her dress up her
thighs, fisting the cotton at her hip as he dragged her closer to fuse his mouth to
hers. She gasped, going soft and pliable against him while he licked his way between
her lips. Teasing her tongue to come out to play with his in a deliciously hot tug-of-war
that made the pulse in his cock turn into a crash of cymbals.

He toyed with the knot at the side of her panties, coaxing a moan from her that flowed
into him more sweetly than the dark chocolate from the torte they’d had for dessert.
She drove her tongue against his, warring with him while he edged ever closer to the
triangle of heat between her thighs. He could imagine all too well what she’d feel
like as he sank into her. Inferno-hot, desperately tight. Her need spilling over his
skin. Imprinting him with her scent just as he’d wished to do to her with his touch.

“Your body can’t lie to me, even if your mouth can.” He rocked his hard length into
her belly and absorbed the quiver that went through her with a victorious smile. “I’m
breathing you in.”

She huffed. Laughter exploded outside the door and he bit her lip to quiet her as
she started to speak. “Shh,” he interrupted. “Don’t want to get caught twice in one
day.”

“Three times in two weeks,” she muttered.

He smirked. “Three strikes and I’m in…if you play your cards right.”

They stared—glared might’ve been a more accurate description in her case—at each other
as the voices faded away, then Victoria swished her dress from his hands and stepped
back. “I want a tour of the house.”

Suppressing a sigh, he shut his eyes. The intimate fragrance of her desire had branded
itself on his brain and he doubted anything would ever remove it. He ached to taste
her. But he couldn’t, not right now.

He set aside the drink he hadn’t finished. The brandy heated his throat and gut nicely,
but he wanted his senses clear. He needed every one of them to deal with Victoria.

“I’ve always loved this place. To me, nothing bad could ever happen here. Not like
my parents’ house. Here it’s never been anything but warm. And safe.” She shook her
head as if she’d just heard herself, then reached for his hand. He stared at her as
if she’d thrown a hissing viper at his feet. “Show me?”

He nearly said no. There was way too much in her eyes, and it called to him, arousing
urges he’d never allowed himself to satisfy. She wasn’t numbers on a ledger that could
be tabulated and eventually conquered. No rational, emotionless plan could outweigh
all the very
un
rational needs she inspired in him with a look.

Their fingers brushed. His stomach jumped and he spoke to distract himself from the
riot of sensations her touch caused. “This is the dining room.” He cleared his throat.
“We eat here.”

She nodded soberly and tightened her hold on his hand. Instead of her grip making
him want to pull away, he found himself moving closer. “Very nice.”

He gestured at the cherry piece against the far wall. “Note the massive antique china
cabinet that my great-grandfather built with wood from his own property. Also note
all the dishes my mother’s going to have to lug with her across the country.”

“You could take some of them.”

“For what?”

“To use with your own family some day, silly.” She squeezed his fingers and wandered
closer to the cabinet. But it wasn’t the dishes that stole her attention. She snatched
up one of the ornate scrollwork picture frames, her face softening as she studied
him and Dillon as little boys, running through the backyard. “So cute.”

He looked at the photo over her shoulder. They couldn’t have been any more than five
and six. Dillon had a thicket of blond hair and Cory’s was as dark as the heavy black
galoshes he wore. He was grinning at the camera, showing off a gap-toothed smile.
Back then he and the Tooth Fairy had been on a first-name basis.

“I was a damn fine-looking child, I’ll give you that.”

“I meant Dillon.” She grinned and grabbed another picture. There were a lot for her
to pick from, considering his mother had commemorated just about every moment of her
sons’ lives until college. Even now she struck terror in their hearts when she whipped
out her digital camera. “He was adorable.”

Cory pinched her ass, making her yelp. “He’s taken. You had your chance.”

“There was only one Santangelo brother I ever wanted to take my chances with,” she
said lightly, not looking at him.

He frowned, studying the blond curls that spilled down her back. Unrestrained and
free, just like her. The exact
opposite
of him.

Had she really wanted him before they’d tripped into this crazy pseudo-affair? Though
there was nothing pseudo about the sex part of their arrangement. The lust between
them was very real. And she’d been all too eager to claim at dinner that she’d never
noticed him before a few weeks ago. More pretending?

He encircled her waist with his arms. Holding her this way made her seem impossibly
fragile. Almost breakable. “Since when?”

“I like this one.” She traced her nail along the edge of a heart-shaped frame that
held a picture of the boys at Dillon’s high school graduation. Dillon had a fauxhawk
tipped in black for the occasion, and Cory looked suitably chagrined at his side.
They’d both been in that awkward stage between boy and manhood, all gangly arms and
legs.

Not that anyone could tell with Dillon. He was grinning broadly and had his arm around
his brother’s shoulders. He’d always loved the spotlight. Cory, on the other hand,
looked ready to make his escape. Some things never changed.

“I asked you a question.” He pulled her back against him so that the unmistakable
hardness between his legs brushed her tight, firm ass. An image of those pale swells
reddened from his mouth filled his mind and he released a long breath. “How long have
you wanted me?”

“What makes you think I meant you?”

“Now, Victoria.”

She turned to face him, still clutching his picture. “Ninth grade.”

“
What
?”

She shrugged jerkily and set the photo aside. “Now you know.”

“But you hate me,” he mumbled, amazed he could speak at all. If she’d hauled off and
punched him in the gut, he couldn’t have been more surprised. Or hurt.

Why hadn’t she ever told him? They’d wasted so much time—

Wait. Hold up. Wasting time indicated that another outcome had been possible. It wasn’t.
It wouldn’t be.

Her broken, brittle laugh cut him straight to the bone. “Let’s amend that.
You
hate
me
. Besides, you couldn’t see me after you’d been confronted with all of Melly’s tall,
sleek lusciousness first. Don’t you remember that school dance where you mooned over
her all night?”

Actually, he didn’t. High school in general wasn’t a place he liked to mentally revisit.
And school dances? Worst of the worst. Instead of getting laid at prom, he’d acted
as a bookie for some of the other students. They’d heard about his golden touch with
the horses, and his chances for post-dance sex had gone downhill after that.

She leaned up to circle his neck with her arms. “But I bet you’re not thinking of
how perfect Melinda is for you now, are you?”

He wasn’t thinking about anything but getting her naked. And that wasn’t so much a
thought as a primal command in his blood. “Melinda who?”

Her laughter burst across his cheek, as frothy as ripples in the surf. “You know what
I’d really like to see?”

“The twin bed I used to plot world domination in?” He tugged on a corkscrew curl.
“Because I sure wouldn’t mind putting some of your yoga skills to work so we could
make use of it.”

More laughter, softer now as she drew back. “No. The barn.”

“The barn? It’s dark and foggy out. There’s a threat of rain.”

Eyes dancing with mirth, she tapped her fingers against her mouth and swiveled back
to the china cabinet. “Never mind. I’d hate to get all…wet.”

“Hold it.” He snagged her arm and pressed close to her back. He’d never think to use
a building that housed livestock for such a purpose, but he could see the possibilities.
“Barn, you say?”

She rubbed against him, sidling up and down as sinuously as a cat. “Uh-huh. Race you
there.”

“I don’t race. Women chase after me.”

At her sniff, he grinned. Until she reached under dress and shimmied down the string-bikini
panties he’d amused himself with a few minutes before. She drew them off her long
legs, allowing him a glimpse of black, lace-topped stockings, and then pressed them
into his hand. They were tiny and as red as her dress. And very damp.