Asking for Trouble (13 page)

Hayden couldn’t stop the bubble of laughter that rose from her throat. She should have suspected her friend would take convention and knock it on its square ass. At that moment, she couldn’t have been more proud of her friend. Over the last two months, she’d transformed into someone who didn’t take no for an answer. A woman who made her own decisions and to hell with what anyone else thought. A little blond force to be reckoned with.

It occurred to Hayden then that she herself had turned into quite the opposite. Someone who followed her marching orders, didn’t make waves. If she did her duty like a good soldier and married Stuart, she’d never experience the kind of romantic bliss currently radiating from Daniel and Story. She’d never be loved. Would never love anyone back.

Her self-pity didn’t belong there, not when the person she treasured most in the world was experiencing her perfect moment in the sun. She hated herself for having that feeling. Hated her impossible situation. Hated the man next to her for making her feel things she might go the rest of her life without ever feeling again.

Hayden felt Brent watching her and turned. Somehow he managed to look as troubled as she felt. She felt moisture coating her cheeks and a jolt of surprise passed through her. When was the last time she’d cried? Her sophomore year of high school. She’d been laid up in bed after having her tonsils removed, woozy from painkillers.
Beaches
had come on and she hadn’t been able to find the remote control to change the channel.

Brent reached a hand out to swipe her tears away, but she jerked out of his reach. Fist clenched in midair, his Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat. She could tell from his expression that he knew her tears weren’t of the happy variety. “Hey. What’s going on with you?”

“N-nothing.” She swiped impatiently at her tears. “I was…I was just thinking about that movie
Beaches
.”

A single eyebrow rose. “That had to be the last thing I expected you to say.” He looked thoughtful. “Well, maybe not the last. If you’d said something about the Mets’ batting order, I might have fainted.” When she didn’t respond to his attempt at levity, he sighed, but thankfully he didn’t press, nor did he look at her with anything resembling judgment. “Why don’t you go back to the hotel? I’ll…tell them you went to find your camera.”

“Thank you,” Hayden managed, before taking off in the opposite direction from which they’d been walking, feeling Brent’s gaze on her back as she went. She was thankful for the reprieve. In her current state of mind, she’d only tarnish her friends’ happy moment.

Her intention had been to return to her room. Experience her first cry in a decade with a pillow pressed to her face. Instead, she found herself veering into the first bar she passed upon entering the casino. Before she’d even settled onto the barstool, she’d signaled the bartender.

“Tequila, please.”

Chapter Thirteen

Brent paced the hallway outside Hayden’s room, trying to hold on to his patience. After congratulating Story and Daniel, who’d been too enamored with each other to do anything but acknowledge him with a smile, he’d gone in search of Hayden. Obviously, he’d tried her room first. Then he’d checked the pool and every chick-themed store in the place. Explaining his bigfoot-sized presence in Bath & Body Works had been a real scream.

Why had he let her go off by herself, clearly distraught? He’d watched her standing there in the waning sun, tears streaming down her cheeks, her beauty and vulnerability knocking the breath out of him. Then it all changed. Her features clouded, her shoulders sagged. If his ill-advised comment just seconds before did that to her, he’d kick his own ass. He’d said it expecting her to come right back at him with a rejoinder as she always did, yet she’d abandoned the fight. She must know he didn’t mean it. Jesus, wasn’t it obvious how badly he wanted her? He could no more change his mind about her than he could fit into a child-sized leotard.

He heard the elevator
ping
and hoped like hell it was Hayden inside. Instead, two thirty-something women got off. Stumbling around a little, they were clearly tipsy. They both came up short when they saw him, bursting out laughing when one got brave and sent him an exaggerated wink. Brent sighed. Then it dawned on him where Hayden would have gone. Good thing he wasn’t a detective like Troy or the streets would be overrun with criminals.

Before the elevator could close, he stuck his hand in between the doors to stop their progress and got on, impatiently pressing the lobby button. He started with the bar closest to where he’d seen her re-enter on the casino level. Gypsy Bar. Blaring music and laughter greeted him when he walked inside. When the doorman asked for his ID, Brent gave him a look that said
seriously man?
And kept walking.

He checked the bar area first, not finding her there. Early on a Saturday night, the room hadn’t yet filled to capacity, but was still reasonably busy. Several customers were already dancing, Brent noticed. Then he did a double take. Hayden, drink in hand, danced in the middle of a large group like her life depended on it. Arms in the air, hips twisting. He’d never seen her look so uninhibited apart from their one night together when she’d transformed before his very eyes. As Brent moved closer, he saw that her skin was rosy and slightly dewy from exertion, the blue dress clinging to her curves as she moved her hips to the rhythm. Her hair had finally given up its battle with perfection, curling at the ends, a dark wave coming down to obscure half her face. She looked how he imagined she would if he ever got her into bed again. Without a time limit or any ridiculous rules. He got hard thinking about it. Watching her dip and sway, he imagined her on top of him instead, riding out her orgasm with the use of his body.

If you stand here ogling her like a jackass any longer, you’ll embarrass yourself.
Not to mention, he wasn’t the only male who’d taken notice of Hayden. When one such guy elbowed his buddy and nodded in Hayden’s direction, Brent’s feet were moving purposefully toward her before he’d even made a conscious decision. When he got within five feet, she looked up as if she’d sensed him. Heat thrummed low in his belly when he got a close look at her. Perfectly polished Hayden made him hot, but
this
girl…fuck, she burned him from the inside.

She’d always accused him of being a caveman. Right now, he could freely admit she’d been right. A furious, pounding need began inside him. Something about her lost expression, her defenselessness, called to that deeply primal part of him. The one that demanded he throw her over his shoulder and take her home so he could pleasure her, see to her needs, until she fell asleep and forgot why she’d been troubled in the first place. When she woke up again, he’d be inside her. Between thrusts, he’d gladly inform her that her man had taken care of her problems, just like he always would. Then he’d fuck her back to sleep.

Eyes scanning his face, her lips parted just slightly, telling him he’d done a poor job of hiding his inner thoughts. He didn’t care. The caveman was rearing its head, urging him to rip off his shirt and let her look her fill. Let her see who’d come to take her to bed. The protector in him demanded answers. Demanded he find out why she’d been crying. Find out what could possibly put that forlorn expression on her face, distress her to the point she felt compelled to act out this way. So unlike her usual self.

He sensed, however, that an interrogation was the last thing she needed. So doing his best to tame the caveman, he opened his arms, relieved when she simply walked into them. She stood on her tiptoes to wrap her arms around his neck, stretching her body flush against his, and he held her, swaying them on the dance floor.

After a few minutes of silence between them, she spoke haltingly next to his ear. “I’m so happy for Daniel and Story, you know.
So
happy. I just…” Her fingers slid into his hair and his eyes shut. Brent could hear the ever-so-slight running together of her words and put her at about four drinks. Not drunk exactly, but her decisions would be influenced. He needed to remember that. “But it must be amazing, you know? Getting exactly what you always wanted. Having so much…control of your future.”

Brent frowned against her head. If anything, a girl like Hayden, money and influence coming out of her ears, got any damn thing she wanted. He focused on the second half of what she said instead. “Who’s got you feeling out of control, duchess?”

Hayden shook her head, knocking against his chin in a way he found so endearing, his throat hurt.

“Tell me so I can set them straight.”

She looked up at him then, all traces of vulnerability gone. He recognized that look. She’d worn it the night she cuffed him and slowly stripped herself of clothes, and him of his sanity. She wanted to distract him from his questions and…
shit
. It worked. As her attention snagged on his mouth, her body slid down low, pressing firmly into his on the way back up. He couldn’t stop himself from tilting his hips so she could feel what she’d done to him. Her fingers traced over his shoulders and down his chest, undoing the top button of his shirt, then she kissed the exposed flesh. She traced a path with her lips up his neck and over his chin, ending where their mouths met. Brent kissed her hungrily, starved for the taste of her, his inner caveman pounding his chest again as he claimed her as his own in the middle of the dance floor. When she moaned in her throat and shuddered, he reluctantly pulled away.

“I’m still pissed at you,” Hayden said, head pressed to his chest.

“Everyone’s always pissed at me. It’s just part of my charm.” He released his own unsteady breath as Hayden laughed. How he could make a joke when he felt so painfully turned-on his knees might give out at any moment, Brent had no clue. She’d
needed
to laugh, that’s why. It was fast becoming obvious that he’d put himself through a dozen varieties of torture to give her what she needed. When had that started? Why didn’t he want it to end?

“So you didn’t really change your mind, then? You still…?”

Brent tipped her chin up. “Hayden, look at me. I’m dancing. You think I’d dance for a girl unless I wanted her like crazy?” He ran his thumb across her bottom lip, groaning when her tongue darted out to lick him. “I guess you haven’t figured it out yet, huh? This week alone, I let you cuff me, stuff me into a suit, and inflict me with Blue-Ball Syndrome.”

Her lips quirked up. “Is that an actual medical diagnosis?”

“Yeah. It is now,” he growled. “They’re naming it after me, too. ‘I got a case of the Brents.’ People will be saying that for centuries to come.”

Hayden’s eyes narrowed. “Wait, you said ‘I
let
you cuff me’?”

He winked at her. When she sputtered in disbelief, he cut her off with a kiss. She sagged into him almost immediately, actually managing to knock him back a step. He caught her around the waist with his arm. “Hey, how much have you had to drink?”

…

Hayden bit her lip and looked up at Brent with mock innocence. He looked all noble and protective standing there, waiting for her answer, a concerned frown marring his forehead. It made her want to climb up his body and whisper very bad things in his ear until he cracked. She might have a few drinks buzzing through her brain, but wanting Brent naked wasn’t a product of her over-imbibing. Before she’d even set foot in the bar she’d wanted that, so she wasn’t about to let him get away with this whole honorable-policeman act. Not by a long shot.

One
teeny
little product of her loosened inhibitions was her sudden determination that she needed one more hot, tear-up-the-sheets night with Brent. If she agreed to consign herself to a lifetime as a trophy wife, she wanted to experience his brand of passion one more time. So she could tuck it deep into her memory bank and call on it whenever needed. The part of her brain hanging on to the cliff’s edge of sobriety warned her this was a bad decision, but she tuned it out. She needed him so bad, her body ached. Her breasts, her hands, the flesh between her thighs all begged for contact with him. He’d know what she needed, even if she herself didn’t know right then. Just knew that Brent would give it to her.

“I’ve had three drinks.”

He grunted. “More like five.”

She tried again. “How about four?”

“We’re not bargaining here, woman.”

Excited by the challenge, Hayden slid her hands up the front of his shirt, satisfied when the muscles bunched under her hands.
All that power
.
Mine. Just for tonight.

Using his shoulders for leverage, she leaned up to whisper in his ear. “Brent, take me somewhere private. Where I can wrap my legs around all that muscle. Somewhere you can take off my teeny, tiny panties and fuck me hard.”

“
Jesus Christ
,” he moaned. As if acting on their own, his hands dropped to her ass and hauled her up against him. Hayden whimpered when she felt his enormous erection probing her through the thin material of her dress. “Are you out of your goddamn mind saying something like that to me in public? It’s all I can do right now not to bend you over the nearest table and fuck you senseless with everyone watching. Maybe it would teach you to be more careful with that mouth.”

Hot, wet heat flooded her, spreading between her legs. She almost had him…just one more push. “My mouth knows exactly how—”

Before the words were fully spoken, Brent began dragging her across the dance floor, scanning the bar as he went. Apparently satisfied that no one paid them any attention, he pushed through a door with an exit sign above it and pulled her behind him into a dark, empty hallway. The only light illuminating the corridor emanated from two exit signs on either end. Music, muffled now, pounded through the door, mingling with their panting breaths.

“On your knees.”

Combined with the thumping bass, the erratic rhythm of her heart beat loudly in her ears. Every cell in her body hummed in needy anticipation. She fell to her knees without a single hesitation, desperate to wring every drop of pleasure from tonight. Not just her own, but Brent’s as well. Their hands met in a tangle as they worked frantically to unbuckle his belt and lower the zipper of his dress pants. She devoured the sight of his erection, the evidence of how badly he wanted her.

He braced one hand above her on the wall; the other gripped her head and urged her forward. At the last second, just before her mouth made contact, he pulled her hair to stop her. When he spoke, his voice sounded raw and dark. “Uh-uh. First, you finish what you were going to say. Your mouth knows exactly how—what?”

Hayden’s breath raced in and out as she looked up at him from her position on the floor. He towered over her, his strength making her feel so fragile. Yet at the same time, she knew she held the reins. Her mouth, her body, represented his pleasure and they both knew it. If possible, the realization heated her even more. It made pretending the opposite twice as heady. She gripped the base of his erection in her fist. “My mouth knows exactly how you like it.”

“Keep going,” he ordered. “Be very specific or I’ll make you wait an hour for a ride.”

She flicked out her tongue and caught the tip, making Brent groan. “You like me to take it deep. As deep as I can. You like when I suck hard on the tip.”

“That’s right. Now, open your mouth and make it count. I earned it.” No sooner had she obeyed his harsh command than he guided himself between her damp, parted lips. She moaned at the smooth feel of him on her tongue even as she struggled to wrap her mouth around him completely. Unlike last time, she didn’t tease him. She’d have been teasing herself in the process, because every taste, every groan she wrung from his throat, was like an aphrodisiac straight to her brain. Her hand stroked his girth in time with her mouth, faster and faster until she felt him start to shake, and exulted in his loss of composure.

“Stop, baby. Now. Oh God, please stop.” Ignoring his request, she swirled her tongue around the tip, then sucked it hard enough to hollow her cheeks. Distantly, she heard his fist connect with the concrete wall, then he was dragging her to her feet. He pushed her back against the cool, hard surface and reached a hand beneath her dress to yank down her panties. All the while, she watched his flushed face, exulting in the desperation she saw there.

As frantic as Brent was to get inside her, as badly as she needed to give him relief, Hayden felt the now-familiar desire for control tingling in her limbs. She’d been spinning out of control all week, maybe her whole life, if she was honest with herself. Everyone else saw the coolly self-possessed Hayden, but truthfully, she followed the dictates of others, the stuffy world she lived in. The urge to make her own rules beckoned to her. Brent would do whatever she asked of him. If she told him to stop right now, he would, even if it killed him. While she didn’t want to abuse that honorable part of him, she couldn’t deny the irresistible need to test it.