about?”
“Do you really want to know?” His voice deepened, and she squirmed in her seat.
“Yes.”
“I’ve thought about how it would feel to have your wet lips wrapped around my dick while I fuck that smart mouth of yours.”
She gasped, but he didn’t pause for her reaction.
“I think about grabbing you by your hair and bending you over the nearest table when you start in on one of your corporate overlord rants. Pushing down your tight, paint-covered jeans and finding your panties soaking wet for me. I wonder if your pussy is as tight as I imagine?” A soft chuckle escaped him. “I’ll bet coming all over my cock would shut you up for a while.”
Fingers digging into the edge of the couch, she found herself leaning toward him. A pool of want—need—built inside of her, and her breathing was thready. His words should have offended her. They weren’t words of love or sweetness and light. The words were bad and dirty and somehow hot enough to bring her to the edge of orgasm.
She should have been worried that something was wrong with her, but she couldn’t think past the images he’d planted even more firmly in her head.
“What do you think of that, Carrie?” He didn’t move a muscle, still sitting as if relaxed on the loveseat across the coffee table from where she sat on the couch. But his voice was tight. The man wasn’t the cool cucumber he wanted her to think he was.
“I think that you’re a rough-talking asshole.”
“I think you want to be fucked by a rough-talking asshole.”
She gasped again, and couldn’t say for sure if it was entirely because of shock, or if part of her, a larger part than she would ever admit, found the way he talked to her sexy.
“Is this turning you on?”
“No!” she lied.
With a quick motion, he got up from the loveseat and made his way to the couch, sitting close enough that his knee brushed hers.
Already tense, her muscles tightened further.
“Let’s be real here, Carrie.” He reached up and slid her hair behind her shoulder, his hand brushing her neck and sending a shiver through her body. “We don’t get along. We have entirely different views of the world. That’s probably not going to change. But that doesn’t mean we aren’t attracted to one another.”
She snorted. “You’re right on that—the first part anyway.”
“You’re not attracted to me?” He leaned in and she could feel his breath move against her ear. The smell of wine and the tiniest bit of cologne touched her nose, and she struggled not to take a deep breath, inhale his scent.
“I think you’re lying,” he murmured.
Yeah, she was lying, but lying was her last defense. This was such a terrible idea. Sure, it could be amazing, but how likely was that—beyond the sex? There would be fallout. Consequences. God, he smelled good.
“I don’t think this is a good idea.” Despite her words, she took a deep breath, taking in his scent. She hadn’t thought it possible to get even more turned on, but his smell pulled at something in her. Something basic and needful and hungry.
Bryan seemed undeterred by her words. He slid the back of his fingers down her upper arm, and the touch sent a current straight through to her sex.
“Let me lay it all out here for you, Carrie. I don’t know why—it makes no logical sense—but I find you goddamned fascinating for some reason. I can’t seem to get you out of my head.”
Couldn’t get her out of his head? The words didn’t compute in her mind—they didn’t make logical sense. She’d never even suspected. But now the thought wouldn’t leave her. What would it be like to be with this domineering, arrogant, sexy man?
Screw it. She wanted—needed—to know the answer to that question. It wasn’t like she had anything to lose. They weren’t friends—they barely got along well enough to make nice for David and Stacy. What did she have to lose?
Nothing.
That thought in mind, she kissed him. Just
“Do you really want to know?” His voice deepened, and she squirmed in her seat.
“Yes.”
“I’ve thought about how it would feel to have your wet lips wrapped around my dick while I fuck that smart mouth of yours.”
She gasped, but he didn’t pause for her reaction.
“I think about grabbing you by your hair and bending you over the nearest table when you start in on one of your corporate overlord rants. Pushing down your tight, paint-covered jeans and finding your panties soaking wet for me. I wonder if your pussy is as tight as I imagine?” A soft chuckle escaped him. “I’ll bet coming all over my cock would shut you up for a while.”
Fingers digging into the edge of the couch, she found herself leaning toward him. A pool of want—need—built inside of her, and her breathing was thready. His words should have offended her. They weren’t words of love or sweetness and light. The words were bad and dirty and somehow hot enough to bring her to the edge of orgasm.
She should have been worried that something was wrong with her, but she couldn’t think past the images he’d planted even more firmly in her head.
“What do you think of that, Carrie?” He didn’t move a muscle, still sitting as if relaxed on the loveseat across the coffee table from where she sat on the couch. But his voice was tight. The man wasn’t the cool cucumber he wanted her to think he was.
“I think that you’re a rough-talking asshole.”
“I think you want to be fucked by a rough-talking asshole.”
She gasped again, and couldn’t say for sure if it was entirely because of shock, or if part of her, a larger part than she would ever admit, found the way he talked to her sexy.
“Is this turning you on?”
“No!” she lied.
With a quick motion, he got up from the loveseat and made his way to the couch, sitting close enough that his knee brushed hers.
Already tense, her muscles tightened further.
“Let’s be real here, Carrie.” He reached up and slid her hair behind her shoulder, his hand brushing her neck and sending a shiver through her body. “We don’t get along. We have entirely different views of the world. That’s probably not going to change. But that doesn’t mean we aren’t attracted to one another.”
She snorted. “You’re right on that—the first part anyway.”
“You’re not attracted to me?” He leaned in and she could feel his breath move against her ear. The smell of wine and the tiniest bit of cologne touched her nose, and she struggled not to take a deep breath, inhale his scent.
“I think you’re lying,” he murmured.
Yeah, she was lying, but lying was her last defense. This was such a terrible idea. Sure, it could be amazing, but how likely was that—beyond the sex? There would be fallout. Consequences. God, he smelled good.
“I don’t think this is a good idea.” Despite her words, she took a deep breath, taking in his scent. She hadn’t thought it possible to get even more turned on, but his smell pulled at something in her. Something basic and needful and hungry.
Bryan seemed undeterred by her words. He slid the back of his fingers down her upper arm, and the touch sent a current straight through to her sex.
“Let me lay it all out here for you, Carrie. I don’t know why—it makes no logical sense—but I find you goddamned fascinating for some reason. I can’t seem to get you out of my head.”
Couldn’t get her out of his head? The words didn’t compute in her mind—they didn’t make logical sense. She’d never even suspected. But now the thought wouldn’t leave her. What would it be like to be with this domineering, arrogant, sexy man?
Screw it. She wanted—needed—to know the answer to that question. It wasn’t like she had anything to lose. They weren’t friends—they barely got along well enough to make nice for David and Stacy. What did she have to lose?
Nothing.
That thought in mind, she kissed him. Just
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