Asking for Trouble

“Oh.” She stared up at him like he’d sprouted antennae. “Oh.”

His lips twitched. “Oh?”

Then in a move he didn’t see coming, Hayden dug her fingers into his hair and pulled him down for a hot, hard, whiskey-flavored kiss. What little willpower Brent still possessed flew out the window when her tempting curves molded to his and she sucked on his tongue with a throaty moan. He sucked her tongue right back, letting his hands drop to her ass and knead the taut flesh beneath her skirt. It felt natural, inevitable, to lift her against him so she could wrap her legs around his waist, fitting their lower bodies together with a perfection that made him groan roughly into her mouth. Once he had her resting on top of his erection, he gripped her ass and slid her up and down, so she could experience every inch of it against her core.

“Baby, I’m going to f**k you tonight. You know that, don’t you?”

“Yes,” she whispered against his mouth. “But I need s-something right now, okay?”

He backed her into the counter, grounding himself into her soft, inviting center. It felt like heaven and hell at the same time. His body demanded release. Now. Now.

Just a while longer, the sane part of his brain chanted. They weren’t alone yet. He couldn’t have her here. God, did the freaking universe hate him lately? “What do you need, duchess? We need to hurry.”

Maintaining their hot eye contact, she unhooked her legs from around his waist and slid down him, slowly enough to short-circuit his brain. Taking his hand, she shocked him once again by guiding it underneath her skirt to the silk between her legs. “Make me come, Brent.”

“Fuck,” he ground out, quickly pushing the silk aside. His c**k ached, his tongue had gone fuzzy, and all he could think about, care about, in that moment was bringing the girl in front of him to an earth-shattering climax. She’d made the request as though her life depended on him giving her pleasure. It made him want to beat his chest with his fists, proving to her once and for all what a caveman he was.

When his fingers touched her naked flesh for the first time, the smooth, slick heat almost robbed him completely of rational thought. He knew she wanted his fingers to massage her clit but nothing could prevent him from sinking his middle finger deep inside her, giving it a quick upward thrust. Her inner walls contracted, milking his finger so tightly, he could barely draw it out.

“More, Brent,” she whimpered softly. “Again.”

“Don’t worry.” He granted her two more quick thrusts, then moved his wet fingers to the tight bundle of nerves, pressing tight and holding. “You’re going to be full of me later. For now, just let me rub your sweet little clit.”

On a raspy breath, she parted her lips to receive his hot, openmouthed kiss while his fingers worked between her legs. He savored each sob of pleasure he wrung from her on his tongue. Her hips shook and swiveled until he was forced to hold her completely still against the counter with his body so he could finish her. In the back of his mind, he heard the voices in the living room grow louder. Closer?

When he felt her begin to pulsate and tighten, he increased the circular motion of his fingers. “Come on, baby. We’re out of time.” Dammit, the footsteps were growing louder. He leaned forward and spoke right against her ear. “Come for me right now and I’ll let you ride me as hard as you want later. I know what gets you off. I saw it in your eyes last night. You want to throw me down and f**k me, duchess? Good. I’m in the mood to let you.”

At the last second, he swooped down and caught her moan with his mouth while she shook, savoring her dampness on his fingers. He heard footsteps coming down the hallway the same time she did. As fast as humanly possible, they pulled her skirt into place and he hid his tented lap behind the marble island.

One of the older ladies swayed into the kitchen, a little unsteady on her feet from too much wine. She stopped short when she found them already occupying the kitchen, then gave Brent a knowing look.

“Were you stealing a kiss in here, mister?”

Brent held up his hands. “You caught me.”

Behind him, Hayden slumped against the counter.

Chapter Six

After paying the driver, Brent exited the cab and opened the door for Hayden. Standing above her, silhouetted by the streetlight, he looked larger than life holding out his hand. Waiting for her to take it. She hesitated a moment, suddenly unsure of her decision to bring him home. Admittedly, she wanted him. Badly. At some point, however, it had started feeling like more than just a passing attraction. Somehow, Brent, the person she’d always thought understood her the least, seemed to know exactly what she needed. She herself hadn’t known until he’d said the words in Stuart’s kitchen. Words that now echoed in her head, heating her blood, making her skin tingle. You want to throw me down and f**k me, duchess? Yes, yes, yes. That’s exactly what she wanted.

“You going to stay in there all night?”

Rolling her eyes to hide her jumbled emotions, she took his hand and let him lead her up the stoop to her front door. Once they reached the top, she busied herself trying to find her keys in her purse, but his big hand closed over hers, ceasing her jerky movements. “Hey. I want you, duchess. Bad as hell. But if you’re not completely here with me, I’ll go.”

“You would, wouldn’t you?” She peered up at him, wondering if this other dimension to him had always existed and how she’d missed it. I have a sister. A mother. I take that type of thing seriously. She’d never thought of him as anything but a vulgar meathead. Was it possible she’d been wrong? “What else don’t I know about you, Brent?”

Watching her closely in that distracting way of his, he didn’t answer. Then, in a replay of the previous night, Brent followed Hayden into her town house and pushed her up against the heavy front door. They regarded each other warily as bodies pressed together, hands roamed over curves, breathing harshened.

Hayden felt as though her body would combust at any second. She wanted him with a single-mindedness that alarmed her and didn’t give a damn about the consequences or the fact that they were supposed to hate each other. Or whether or not tomorrow she would wake up and regret sharing her body with someone who usually regarded her with contempt. How did this infuriating man manage to make her feel so incredibly sexy and uninhibited? Never before, not once, had a man gotten this reaction out of her. This relentless need to get and give pleasure. She felt weak and strong at the same time. Unsure, yet determined.

In the back of her mind, however, a little voice whispered that she needed to keep a leash on this crazy attraction running wild between them. The unfamiliar frightened the hell out of her, especially when so many uncertainties lay between herself and Brent. For all she knew, he wanted to take her to bed so he could use it against her. From this night forward, every time she leveled an insult in his direction, he wouldn’t have to utter a single word in response. The memory alone of her begging him to make her come would be enough to keep her quiet.

Another part of her wasn’t so certain he would use their physical relationship against her. He’d managed to surprise her twice tonight. First, by winning over her parents’ tight-knit group of friends, then again when he apologized for letting Stuart near her. She couldn’t yet allow herself to consider that Brent had been a classy gentleman all this time hiding underneath a Mets baseball cap, but…perhaps there was more than met the eye.