Bad Boys After Dark: Mick (3 page)

With a hand on her elbow, he guided her to the chair beside him. “Stay.”

“But your date?”

Holding her confused gaze, he shifted in his chair, bringing his knee between her legs. Her breathing hitched with the intimate move. She blinked several times. He was as drawn to her innocence as he was to her daring prowess. Lifting her hand to his lips, he kissed the three freckles that had given her away last night, watching as her confusion deepened.

“Mick…?”

“My date is already here.” He leaned closer and whispered, “So is yours,
Lola
.”

**

THE RICH, SEDUCTIVE sound of Mick saying Amanda’s fake name skated through her befuddled brain, wreaking havoc with her ability to think clearly. He was touching her in ways that sent shocks of heat to her core—and sparks of confusion to her nonfunctioning brain. His leg brushed against her inner thigh. He held her wrist—
like he did last night
. She was riveted in place by his piercing stare as he watched her with faultless calm, trying to make sense of her boss and the mysterious masked man being one and the same. A bead of sweat formed between her breasts
.
Her heart slammed against her ribs. She swallowed hard, thinking of all the dirty things they’d done, the things he’d said.
I bet your pussy tastes fucking sweet.

Oh God, what have I done?

Mortified and stupidly thrilled, she turned away, catching sight of blond hair moving with her, driving her embarrassment up to shoot-me-now level. She couldn’t believe she’d felt empowered in the stupid wig. Why hadn’t she listened to Ally? She wished she could snap her fingers and disappear. Mick didn’t like when she
dressed
sexy—and last night she’d gone full-on slut. Plus, here she sat in spiked heels and a whorish dress she’d bought after work with the sole intent of seducing her mystery man. She must appear foolish and immature.

“Mick, I…”
I’m an idiot.
She eyed the door, wishing she could run out and never look back. Her lower lip trembled with a painful mix of anger and embarrassment. Not only did she not have a mystery man, but now she needed to quit her job. How could she ever face him again? She rose on shaky legs, but his hand on her wrist kept her near.

“Sit down, Amanda. Please.” His tone was careful, purposeful, his stare unwavering and commanding, and somehow also warm and inviting.

She sat down and crossed her legs, feeling exposed. Ally was right. She wasn’t
owning
any of this. Forcing herself to be brave, she studied him, putting the pieces of his face to the man last night. She saw it now, his eyes behind the silver mask. His face beneath that jet-black beard. But wait. He
knew
?

Anger climbed over her embarrassment, shoving it down beneath the regret, beneath the fear of losing her job, making her shake all over. “Why didn’t you tell me it was you?”

“I didn’t know,” he said with the same calm he might use to offer coffee.

This didn’t make any sense. She’d never known Mick to lie, which was one of the things she respected most about him. But now she wondered how well she knew him at all. The unflappable professional who didn’t like her to don sexy attire had been out for a fast fuck in a seedy bar? She shouldn’t be surprised that he would hook up with a random woman in a bar, but she was. It
floored
her.

There was only one way for her to survive this conversation. She drew her shoulders back and told herself she was discussing work, not staring at the man she’d fantasized about and seduced.
And come for—twice
. Not the man she’d thought was pure gentleman but turned out to be as animalistic as…
as the type of man I was seeking
.

Gulp! Okay, time to pull my shit together.
She forced herself to sound confident. “Then you must be really disappointed to have found me sitting here.”

“No, Amanda. It’s not like that.” He ran a hand through his thick hair, still holding her wrist like she might bolt—which she was seriously considering.

Lowering her chin, she leveled him with her best don’t-even-try-to-lie stare. He’d taught it to her, and she’d mastered it for interviewing clients and witnesses.

“Tell me, Mick. What
is
it like?”

“I didn’t know when I saw you in the bar,” he said in a low, firm voice, holding her gaze. “And I didn’t know when we were in the bathroom.” He slid his hand from her wrist to her fingers, curled his big hand around them, and stroked the skin between her finger and thumb. “I realized it at the end, when I stopped. When I saw this.”

She followed his eyes to her hand. She wore no jewelry, and she had no idea what he was referring to. “My hand?”

“Your freckles.” He brushed his thumb over three freckles between her thumb and index finger.

Knowing the man she’d been crushing on for years noticed something so small made her feel special, though she knew it probably shouldn’t. “You noticed my freckles? On my hand?”

“I happen to have an affinity for them.”

“For freckles?” This had to be a come-on. An outright lie. Something to take the bite out of the fact he’d brought her to orgasm last night and promised so much more for tonight without revealing his true identity.

“No.” He leaned closer and slid his hand along the nape of her neck. She melted a little despite her warring thoughts. “
Your
freckles. Like these.” He brushed his thumb just below and behind her ear. “When you wear your hair in a bun, I can see those.”

I have freckles there?
She’d died and gone to heaven.

No, this wasn’t heaven. It was hell. He’d been at the bar for the same thing she was last night, but it obviously hadn’t been his first time. He held her other hand and ran his fingers along the length of her arm, sending prickles of heat to her core.

That feels really, really good
.

Tapping his finger on the back of her arm, he said, “And the four you have here.”

His gaze was serenely compelling. He was no longer looking at her like he was trying to figure her out or bring them both up to speed. It was confusing her, making her feel more vulnerable and…
wanted
.

“Mick…?”
What is this? What are you doing?
The questions lodged beneath disbelief.

“That’s why I stopped.” He sat back, leaving her feeling bereft. “I realized it was you.”

He was the man she’d pined for, her forbidden fruit, and he was making her feel warm and mushy. She couldn’t afford to be warm and mushy. Her job, her reputation,
and
her sanity were on the line. She had to keep this in perspective and remember why he’d been there last night. He was good at the game she’d only dipped her toes into. This had to be part of that game for him, not the baring of his true emotions she was twisting it into.

“But you would have gone through with it with anyone else,” she challenged.

“As would you.” His voice was dead calm, nonjudgmental.

She turned away, embarrassment creeping back to the forefront.
Own it
.
Right
. She was clearly not made for the temptress life if she couldn’t tell one man from another. She forced herself to face him again.

“I stopped because it was
you
,” he repeated. “I wanted to do this right.”

Right?
What did that mean? That he wanted
her
and not just any woman? Or that he was following through with a promise? This was supposed to be a night of anonymous sex. Sleeping with her boss was not part of her game plan—and having sex to fulfill a promise he made when she was still in the dark about his identity
wasn’t
happening.

“Well,” she said, her back rigid. “This isn’t what I’d planned. Not by a long shot.”

“What did you plan, Amanda?”

How could she admit the truth? To
him
! It didn’t help that he already knew exactly why she was there. What was the alternative? Make up an even lamer excuse? She needed help.

“I need to go to the ladies’ room.” Grabbing her purse, she rose to her feet, but he snatched her hand, holding her stare for a long, painfully silent moment. She was sure he could hear the blood rushing through her ears.

“Don’t take off on me.” The stern command conflicted with the tender kiss on the back of her hand that followed.

It took all of her focus to get to the ladies’ room without stumbling. She had no idea what game he was playing now. Was this payback for last night? Would he sleep with her and then fire her? Was it a control thing? Did he want to have sex with her so every time she saw him in the office she’d have an even better understanding of who was boss—in the boardroom or the bedroom? She pushed through the ladies’ room doors and plunked her purse down on the counter. She looked at her trembling hand, wondering what all that stuff about her freckles really meant. She dug
The Handbook
from her purse, frantically flipping the pages until she found what she was searching for.

Remaining in Control.
She skimmed the chapter, feeling like she was on a game show and up for the ten-million-dollar question. Only this was no television show, and the prize was sex with a man she wanted—
desperately
.

She read aloud to hear over her thundering heart. “Picture the man you want to conquer.”
No problem there
. “Now picture him naked and tied to a chair.” She slammed the book closed.
Mick naked and bound to a chair?
Not helpful. She’d felt his impressive cock last night, and the thought of it there for the taking...

Oh God
.

How was he sitting out there so calm and in control when she was falling apart at the seams?

She was so far out of her league she couldn’t even see the field. She considered calling Ally. She would know what to do. But that was the problem, wasn’t it? She knew her sister would tell her not to even entertain whatever was going on out there, but to walk right out the front door. But as scared and confused as she was, Amanda’s heart was wrapped up in that man, and she didn’t want to turn her back without knowing if anything he’d said was true.

She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. No, not herself.
Lola
. Blondes did not have more fun. Blondes apparently got into sticky situations with their bosses. Ally was right. Again. She hated that.
Amanda
was usually the
right
sister. She was a skilled paralegal; she wasn’t a woman who hid or cowered. She wasn’t pitiful. And she sure as hell was not going to allow her boss to see her as such.

The hell with this. I am owning this transformation once and for all
. She removed her wig and began brushing out her dark hair.
Right here, right now
. Her spine of steel righted itself one brush stroke after the next.
Regardless of the consequences
. Okay, that part kicked her in the back of the knees, because the consequences were high, and she cared about them—her job, her reputation.

She spent the next few minutes giving herself a pep talk, preparing to look Mick in the eye and own up to what she was doing last night
and
what she’d planned for tonight. If he could have sex with a stranger without guilt or regret, so could she.

Feeling jealous of a fictitious stranger, she shoved the book in her purse and began her pep talk once again.

AMANDA MOVED CONFIDENTLY across the dimly lit bar, her dark eyes trained on Mick, chin lifted proudly. He found her renewed confidence insanely hot, but regardless of how badly Mick wanted her, he knew if he allowed himself to feast on the remarkable woman heading his way even for one night, it couldn’t end well for either of them. His mind reeled back to the first day they’d met, the day she’d interviewed for the paralegal job. She’d worn a conservative blue suit, a white blouse buttoned up to her neck with a strand of baby pearls around the collar, a pair of sensible heels, and a confident expression. But her trembling fingers and the way she’d shifted in her seat told of her underlying nerves. She was fiercely determined and graceful in her presentation—an enticing combination of tigress and gazelle.

She’d come a long way since then, smarter, savvier, but she’d never hardened like other women. He was glad to see she’d ditched the wig. Amanda didn’t need to
be
anyone else. She was enough—more than enough.

Her straight dark hair framed her beautiful face and spilled over her shoulders. He’d fantasized so often about how her hair would feel trailing over his bare chest, he could practically feel it sweeping over his skin now. He recalled the feel of her soft curves molding to his hard body last night, the sexy sounds she’d made as she’d surrendered to their passion. Fire coursed through his veins just thinking about how close he’d come to being buried inside her.

One night
. He needed one night with her. Then she would be out of his system and they’d have no unfinished business. He nearly had himself convinced of it as she took her seat beside him, her shoulders squared, face serious.

“I ordered you a sidecar.” He pushed the glass across the table, knowing there was no way in hell he was going to leave without her by his side.

For a second her wide eyes gave away her surprise, but she checked that emotion quickly. “Thank you. How did you know I liked them?”

“Just a guess.” He didn’t like to lie, especially to Amanda, but the truth would have given him away. There wasn’t much about Amanda he hadn’t noticed. But he’d been careful to keep his feelings at bay during the long nights they worked together after hours, and in all the daylight hours in between. “You look exquisite. I’m glad you lost the wig.”

She nodded, a hint of a smile curving the edges of her mouth. A flush rose on her cheeks. “You don’t like it when I dress sexy,” she said matter-of-factly. “So please don’t pretend otherwise.”

“I don’t like…” He shook his head, sure he’d heard her wrong. “I don’t like what?”

“Please, Mick. Don’t patronize me,” she said sharply. “I get it. I have a professional image to uphold. But other girls in the office wear higher heels and low-cut blouses.”

He didn’t give a damn what any of the other women in the office wore as long as they dressed professionally enough to uphold the firm’s image. But hell if he wanted Amanda’s knockout figure on display for every other man to admire. He’d given her the wrong impression entirely, but he didn’t want to talk about work. That was a troubling subject he’d rather not think about, much less talk about.

“We’re not at work,” he reminded her, hoping to sway the conversation away from the topic.

She took a drink, impressively meeting his steady observation. “You asked me what I had planned tonight.”

“I did.” He wanted to reach for her hand, to tell her it was okay, that she could trust him, despite the fact that he should be telling her the exact opposite. He was intrigued by this darker side of her, and he wondered if he’d spent three years thinking she was someone she wasn’t, or if this was something new.

She lifted her chin ever so slightly. Anyone else would probably have missed it, but Mick was determined not to miss a thing.

“I went to the bar crawl last night intent on seducing a man. And I came tonight with the same purpose. I’m not embarrassed by it. I’m just not that good at it yet.”

Holy hell. Not good at it?
She was very good at it. Then again, he was attracted to her vulnerabilities, which other men might have been turned off by, like the death grip she had on the glass, which he knew was to still her trembling hand. He liked when she’d slipped into a voice full of breathless wonder and the way she’d asked if he was going to fuck her in a tone that sounded like she wasn’t sure if she was using the right words.

“I think you’re quite good at it,” he said honestly.

Her eyes narrowed, and she smiled. He knew this smile well. It was the
you think you’ve bullshitted me
smile, which she used very effectively when they were meeting with clients.

“That’s kind of you, Mick,” she said without the confidence her expression conveyed. “I know I have a long way to go.” Her brows knitted again. “But I’m going to get this right.”

The tigress and gazelle were in full play. Could she be any more adorable? Going to get it
right
? He took a long pull of his drink—his second drink, having downed one when she was in the ladies’ room.

“With who? Some scumbag who’ll take advantage of you?” His protective urges surged forward. He’d had trouble keeping them in check when it came to Amanda these last few months. In fact, he realized, he’d been having trouble since she’d started with the firm.

“No.” She sat up a little straighter. “
I’m
going to take advantage of
them
.”

Over his dead body. “Why?”

She cocked her head. “You tell me. Why do you do it?”

Boy, he’d taught her well, hadn’t he? He couldn’t tell her the truth—because he wanted no part of a relationship. Because love wasn’t real. Because nothing lasted forever and he wasn’t about to open himself up to that sort of pain. Because shit happened that he couldn’t control and, at some point, life would make him into a liar. So he went with the next best thing. A portion of the truth.

“Intrigue. Excitement. No strings to complicate things.”

She nodded. “Me too.”

“So you’ve done this before?” She was hot, smart, and she’d gone on plenty of dates, but the thought of her hooking up with a random guy made his skin crawl. Thank God he’d been there last night.

“Well, no, but—”

He let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding and struggled to keep his emotions in check. “Why, Amanda? Why do you want to seduce a stranger? And don’t regurgitate my answers, because we both know it’s a cop-out.”

She ran her finger nervously along the edge of the table, her face softening.

“You go on plenty of dates,” he reminded her. “With respectable guys. Lawyers. Businessmen.”

His eyes found hers again, big and round and gut-wrenchingly innocent. “You’re gorgeous and smart. You could have any number of men. You don’t have to reduce yourself to that.”

“Reduce myself? Is that what you were doing last night? Reducing yourself?”

“No. Yes. I don’t know.” He finished his drink, wishing he’d had a few dozen more. “Not with you, but when I hook up with random women? Yes, I guess I am. It’s filling a void. Don’t you see that? I don’t do it often. It’s been a particularly difficult week for me, and last night was my attempt to forget.”

“Forget?” Her voice filled with curious compassion.

She was too bighearted to jump to conclusions. If he’d told any other woman he wanted to get laid in order to
forget
, they’d assume he meant to forget another woman. Amanda’s brain didn’t work with the same insecurities. Or at least that’s what he’d thought before last night. Her need to seduce a stranger had to be bred of insecurity, didn’t it? As far as he knew, she had no torrid past.

He needed a clear head, and bringing up the reason for his tumultuous week would only make things worse, so he tried to steer the conversation back on track.

“This isn’t about me. It’s about you.”

“Fine,” she said sharply. “You want to know the truth?”

He cocked a brow. She knew he dealt in truths, save for the little white lie about her drink.

“I can’t believe I’m even considering telling you this,” she said softly.

She smiled and he was glad to see her genuine, easy smile. The smile that took no effort, unlike everything else she’d done tonight.

“I’m a boring-man magnet. The guys I attract might be businessmen, but they’re duller than concrete. I’m just trying to change things up. To find my inner sexy. To learn to flirt and seduce like other women do. To learn how to attract edgier men with better personalities and…”

“And?”

“And…God, Mick. You’re my
boss
. You don’t need to know all of this.”

He shifted in his seat, guiding her knees between his, and placed his hands on her outer thighs, watching her carefully. Her eyes widened. The pulse at the base of her neck quickened, pleasing him greatly.

“I was three fingers deep in you last night. I made you come twice. I don’t
need
to know, Amanda. I
want
to know.”

Before she could respond, he lowered his voice and ran his fingers through the ends of her hair, just above her breast, enjoying the quickening of her breath.

“What are you looking for? An anonymous sexual adventure? A hard fuck to break you out of your conservative shell?” He moved his hand to the base of her neck and ran his finger along the dip at the center of her collarbone. She drew in a sharp breath.

“I happen to be very attracted to your conservative shell, but if you want someone to break you out of it, come home with me tonight.” He paused, letting his words sink in and reluctantly reminding himself one night was all he could have.
One. Night
. “I’ll give you the fuck of your life, with a man you know and trust. I’ll keep you safe, you’ll get what you crave, and no one will ever know.”

“I can’t. You’re my…Mick?” She was trembling again, the good kind of trembling.

“Tonight I’m not your boss, Amanda. Tonight I’m your stranger.” He slid his hand over the top of her thigh, grazing his fingertips along the crease just beside her sex. “One night of pleasure. A fantasy. No strings. No regrets.” He brushed his lips over hers and pressed a kiss to the corner of her mouth. “Just one night, and we’ll never speak of it again.”

**

AMANDA MUST HAVE lost her mind. That was the only reasonable explanation for why she was walking into Mick’s penthouse apartment, allowing him to slide her purse from her shoulder and press a kiss to the base of her neck. And her collarbone. And her jaw. At some point she’d closed her eyes, because when he stopped kissing her, she opened them and found him gazing at her with that look again. The one that made her feel desired and sexy, despite her pinging nerves.

His lips curved up in a sinful smile that made her heart race, and he dropped a hand to the small of her back, guiding her further into his spacious apartment.

Toward our night of debauchery.

Oh Lord.

Her boots broke the silence, tapping a slow beat on the hardwood floors. Moonlight spilled in through two enormous round windows on the far wall, filling the room with an erotic bluish hue. A large island separated the kitchen from the living room, and two columns framed a glass elevator beside an open staircase.
An elevator?
Her entire apartment could fit in one quarter of his first floor.

“Your apartment is gorgeous.”

“You’re gorgeous;
it’s
functional,” he said casually, leading her to a fully stocked bar by one of the round windows.

Her head was spinning. He was really good at this. So good at it she might need to drink an entire bottle of liquor just to forget how she paled in comparison.

“Functional?” she said nervously. “Mick, you have an elevator.”

He poured them each a drink. “We’ll make good use of that elevator.” He stepped closer, their bodies brushing from hips to knees. “And the bedroom, and the crow’s nest.”

Her body burned with anticipation.
Crow’s nest?
Was that a kinky position she didn’t know about?

“And the bath,” he promised in a low voice, pulling her tight against him.

She heard a whimpering sound and realized it came from
her
.

He pressed a kiss beside her ear and whispered, “And the staircase.”

He dipped his finger into his drink and dragged it along her lower lip, then followed it with his tongue. Her knees weakened and she grabbed hold of him to remain standing. She was still trying to imagine what they would do on the staircase and he was already six steps ahead.

“Shall I go on?”

“Mick. I…I’m totally out of my league with you,” she regretfully admitted.

He set his drink down and wrapped his arms around her waist. “You’re here. You
are
my league.”

“But all those things you said. I don’t, I haven’t…” How could she say this without sounding like a total loser? “I’m still learning. I can’t even imagine what we’d do on the stairs.”

He ran a finger down her cheek, under her lower lip, and held her jaw between his index finger and thumb.
Kiss me. Please kiss me.
He dragged a finger over her lower lip, pushing it just far enough into her mouth to touch her tongue with the tip. The slow, precise move made her damp.

“You want this, Amanda.” He slid his other hand to her ass and squeezed.

Yes
.

“I’ll show you everything you want to know.” He pressed his cheek to hers, reminding her of the jet-black scruff he’d sported last night.

“Your beard,” slipped out before she could stop it. “You didn’t shave last night. You always shave. That was another reason I didn’t recognize you. Your beard was thick, like you hadn’t shaved in days.”

“I hadn’t. But I shaved this morning. For our date.” He touched his lips to the abrasion above her upper lip. “It grows fast. I’ll shave again if it’s too harsh for you.”

“No,” she said quickly. “I like it. I just didn’t recognize you with it
and
the mask.”

“Then it stays.”

His voice was better than rich milk chocolate, better than a warm summer afternoon, better than…
anything
. He lowered his mouth to her neck, placing openmouthed kisses from one shoulder to the other. Each kiss brought a pulse of pleasure. She closed her eyes and tipped her head back, giving him better access and hoping he wouldn’t stop this tantalizing awakening of her senses. He grazed his teeth over her jaw and nibbled his way to the nape of her neck, where he lingered, placing kiss after delicious kiss. She’d dreamed of this moment, but nothing came close to feeling his strong hands around her, his hard body—and it was
hard
—against her, or his glorious mouth taking and giving pleasure in equal measure.