Breaking Even (18 page)

“Thanks,” I say quickly, hoping she gets the hint to leave.

She doesn’t.

“And I wanted to know if you need me to stay late tonight?” she asks, going into a sexier voice that has Brin inching toward the door.

Fucking shit. She’s getting the wrong idea. Does Jessica always talk to me like this? Am I just super aware of it now that Brin is standing five feet away?

“I can’t imagine there would be any reason why you would have to stay late.”

“I can think of a few reasons,” she says seductively, and I visibly grimace.

“I should go,” Brin announces, and Jessica squeals and jumps, startled by the fact someone else is in the room.

“I’m so... sorry,” Jessica stammers. “I didn’t realize there was a client in here.”

Brin smiles tightly, and before I can correct her, Brin starts talking. “It’s fine. I’m just on my way out.” Then she looks at me. “And I’ll send the rest of the payments through Maggie from now on. That way... Well, I’ll let you get back to your conversation.”

She’s gone before I can even get my tongue untangled, and Jessica turns back to me with fear in her eyes.

“I really am sorry, Mr. Clanton. I honestly didn’t know anyone else was in here.”

I groan while gripping my head, and then I slam shut the drawer to my right while standing up. I need to go for a ride and clear my mind.

“That’s not really the issue, Jessica. I hired you for a number of reasons—one being the fact that my clientele is ninety percent men. And maybe I enjoyed the flirty nature at first, but this is work. Work means acting professional. If you can’t do that, then find a new job. Cancel my noon meeting. I’m leaving early.”

She holds back tears as I walk out. Great. Now I’ve made another woman cry. Fuck my life.

***

BRIN

“It was stupid, and I don’t want to talk about it,” I say numbly, staring at the TV even though I have no idea what’s on the screen.

“When I said get some air, I didn’t mean for you to go see him.”

Just the thought of that girl getting ready to strip naked in his office makes me sick. He just sat there, watching me watch them. It was the ickiest experience of my life. My feet felt so heavy, and I still feel like the world’s biggest idiot.

“I didn’t mean to go see him, but then I got in the car, and it reminded me what a freaking amazing guy he is.
Was.
Now he’s slime.”

I scowl at the TV like it’s Rye, and Maggie sighs. “Well, is the car good at least?”

The glacier encasing my heart warms just a little at the thought of my car.

“It’s perfect—which is why I went over there to pay him. He spent way too much, and then I was crying, and I don’t cry. I never cry. I didn’t cry when John ruined my life and stuck me with all of his credit card bills. I didn’t cry when he divorced me. And he sure as hell never did anything sweet enough to make me cry. Rye... I’m so... I don’t get it!”

Maggie looks torn about what to say, but she doesn’t have to decide because the devil himself walks into our house without so much as a knock. My heart sputters the way my car used to when I look up to meet his serious face.

I don’t know if I’ve ever seen him without a glint of mischief in his eyes until the past two days. I hate it.

“Rye,” Maggie says uncomfortably, sitting up in the chair.

“Care if we have a second?” he asks her, but his eyes stay on me as his jaw tenses.

“Um... Yeah,” she says uncertainly, looking to me for permission to leave.

I just shrug as she slowly gets up and leaves us alone. I don’t think I can get any tenser.

“Brin, about earlier... with Jessica, that wasn’t—”

“Don’t,” I interrupt, sighing. “Please don’t. You don’t owe me any explanations. I showed up at your office unannounced. She didn’t see me. I didn’t think... It was stupid. I’m sorry. You don’t have to come over here and explain.”

I’ve never felt so pathetic.

He frowns as he comes to sit beside me. I wish he’d just leave.

“Brin, I don’t have a thing for Jessica. She works for me. That’s it.”

I just laugh bitterly. “Rye, go. I don’t even know why you’re here. Well, I do actually. You feel bad because you kissed me and then ran away. Then I got to witness a girl more your type go for gold in your office. You’re decent enough to feel bad about it, but you don’t have to. In fact, I’d like it if you’d just stop.”

“Brin, I—”

“Stop saying my name. Stop coming over here. Stop playing the pranks.” I stand up, turn my back on him, and ignore the fever going on behind my eyes. I will not cry. “Before you started sending me mixed signals, I felt just fine with the way I am. I don’t have to look like I just stepped off the runway in order to be happy. I don’t have to deal with the sleaze balls who are just looking for sex, because I’m not the one-night stand of their dreams. I’m perfectly happy. Or I was.

“You... you’re messing with my head, and that’s not okay. I don’t like someone making me feel as though I’m not good enough. I want to be appreciated the way I am. I know what I want, and games aren’t involved. So please go. I’ll crown you king of the war by default. You win. Consider us even.”

The first tear falls, and I silently curse it. I’ve never wanted to be one of the Sterling Shore perfect women until him. And I don’t like hating myself.

“You’re taking all of this out of context, Brin. I... Fuck!” he yells, slapping something.

I turn around to face him, but he’s suddenly right there, and just like last night, his lips are on mine, surprising me with an attack that I wasn’t prepared for. Instinctively, my fingers thread through hair instead of shoving him back like I need to do.

He pulls me tightly against his body, even though he has to bend over to kiss me. When his tongue sweeps in, I either whimper or moan—possibly both. A noise escapes him that almost sounds feral, and the kiss becomes even hungrier.

Why am I doing this to myself?

We fall to the couch, and I’m straddling him before my brain can process the shift. His hands are all over me—my back, my neck, my hair, back down to my ass. We’re a mess of pants, moans, wild hands, and ravenous needs.

But I stupidly want to do more than what we can do on this couch—with Maggie home. I also want him to stop before my heart gets tripped up and shattered.

“Rye,” I mumble against his lips, trying to catch my air and my sanity.

“Please don’t get even with me right now,” he says, his lips moving down to my neck.

Oh damn. I’ve never felt lips so demanding—hard and soft at the same time. I want to live in this torture for as long as I can.

“What do you mean?” I ask, trying to push him away, but pulling him closer instead as I gyrate my hips.

He growls, and I move again, doing what I can to drive him as crazy as he’s driving me.

“I mean don’t stop this to get even with me for last night. Let’s call a truce for the night.”

I’m torn between smiling and swearing. I’m past the point of confused.

“You want a truce?” I ask breathlessly, curling to him as he continues that divine trail of kisses, dragging his lips across my collarbone on his way down my chest.

“I want a lot of things right now, but we’ll start with a truce.”

I’m fairly certain my heart has stopped beating or else it is racing too fast to be felt.

“Okay,” I say like a crazy girl who is begging to be broken.

He stands with me still wrapped around him, and I’m almost positive he’s going to put me down and leave me hanging. Again. So I do what any sane, rational person would do—I clamp my legs around his waist so tightly that they’d need the Jaws of Life to undo me.

Yep. Problem solved.

“What are you doing?” I ask when he starts walking, but his lips refuse to part from mine for long, and he returns to the hungry kiss without answering.

Not that I’m complaining.

Every emotion I have conflicts with each other. I want to stop and never stop at the same time. I still feel us moving, and then I hear the door shutting behind us. It takes so much effort, but I pull back to see him carrying us across the yard.

He tries to go for my lips again, but with fresh air comes some clarity, and I’m able to dodge his attack. But in his soft brown eyes, I see that mischief is back, and his smile is stealing the last ounce of my strength.

“Where are we going?” I ask as we reach his yard.

“Where do you think? You want to cook in my kitchen. And I want to see that... Later.”

Yep. I’m putty. All of the sensible is tossed away as madness sinks in and my lips return to his with an almost desperate need. I’ll worry about the consequences later. Either way, the friendship is fucked. Might as well enjoy the perks.

His talented tongue provokes fantasies I plan to live out, and I kiss him back with every bit of my desire pouring free.

The door pushes against my back as he fumbles with his keys, but he finally gets it unlocked and carries me over the threshold. I still have a death-grip on his waist, and my legs try to cramp from all the exerted force.

“Christ,” he murmurs, breaking the kiss and gasping for air.

“Don’t you dare freak out and run,” I mumble, moving my lips back toward his as he navigates his house the best he can without being able to see around me very well. “I will hurt you if you do.”

He laughs as he meets my lips with a teasing kiss, and then I’m suddenly tossed onto a mattress that angels had to have made themselves.

“I’m not freaking out and running,” he says, slowly climbing over me, nudging my legs apart with his knees and then settling into the space he’s created. “You’re not getting out of here tonight.”

The knot that forms in my throat almost chokes me, and my senses become hyperaware of everything around me. Each breath, touch, taste, smell... It’s all driving me out of my mind as he takes his time, slowly bringing his lips down to my neck and tormenting me with pleasure.

“You’re trying to torture me,” I groan when his hands slide up my waist and just narrowly miss my breasts.

His throaty chuckle does that weird thing to my heart, and my legs tighten around him in response. He leans back and tugs his shirt over his head, and my eyes go straight to the hard lines of his chest and stomach, and I lick my lips while staring at all the ink.

His bluish-black nipple ring has my attention, and I run my fingers over it. He watches me for a moment, his breaths heavy and fast as I toy with the warm metal, but then he drops to me.

His sleeved arm comes to rest beside my head first, and then his half-sleeved arm comes down next. I try not to act as out of breath as I am, but he’s half naked and he’s on top of me. So that makes breathing a very complicated thing.

“Not yet. I’ll have time later to torture you. Right now, we’re both putting each other out of our misery. Because I can’t fucking think anymore. And you’re not any better off or you wouldn’t be skipping work to huddle up on your couch.”

He’s miserable? That shouldn’t make me grin like an idiot, but I’m twisted, so it does.

“And these shorts are too fucking short.”

He starts tugging at my button, and I curse myself. Shit. I should have worn the sexy stuff. As soon as the front is undone, he starts tugging them down, and his taunting grin forms.

“Don’t laugh,” I groan, covering my face. “You’re totally ruining the moment.”

He snickers as he tugs my shorts all the way down, and leaves the cotton monstrosities on me. I’ll never wear comfortable underwear again. Damn.

“Actually, these suit you,” he jokes, leaning down and kissing me right where I want him to, and I almost do something stupid like buck off the bed.

His breath is warm through the fabric, and he grins against me until I hook my thumbs in the sides and shove my panties down to my knees. His breath stops, and I stifle a grin when he seems caught off guard.

He kisses me closer now that there’s no fabric in the way, and he pulls my panties down the rest of the way before tossing them to the floor. He runs his hands up my legs as he parts them farther. Every touch feels like fire against my skin right now, especially when his tongue finds that bundle of nerves that has me crying out like a damn virgin.

My head drops back and my eyes close, but he stops. I think I growl. I know a very warning sound comes out of me, and he chuckles while moving up my body and pushing his lips against mine.

“We’ll have to do foreplay another time,” he murmurs against my lips as he shuffles out of his jeans.

My anger flees as excitement unfurls in my body, and he reaches for his nightstand. When I hear the drawer open and the foil crinkling, I almost get dizzy from the adrenaline rush.

I’ve been divorced for a year, but it’s been so much longer than that since I’ve had sex.

He tugs my shirt off as he raises up, and I’m left in only my bra. He looks down at me in a way no one else ever has, and I’m left feeling feverish. He wants me. His eyes are on me and staring at me hungrily—the same way Kode stares at Tria. It shouldn’t be possible.

He turns to push his boxers down, and that thrill shoots through me again. I mindlessly remove my bra as he turns back around, and my eyes go straight down and stare.

I think I must have done something very, very right in a past life.

“Like it?” he says with a grin I can feel.

He moves over me, and I go to the thing that I’m finding the most fascinating. A silver barbell sticks out from the tip of his cock, and I’m fairly positive this sort of thing could make a girl fall in love.

“You couldn’t get your other nipple pierced because of the pain, but you have this?” I ask in a rasp voice.

I touch it, feeling the metal, and he jerks in my hands as a deep rumble forms in his chest. I try to stay only on the metal, not the hard rod that is very happy to be with me. But it’s hard not to touch him.

“Don’t get too excited. You won’t be able to feel it very much with the condom on,” he says as he starts rolling the rubber down and hiding the silver.

I really want to feel it. I’m on birth control, but I’m rather certain it is stupid to have unprotected sex this early on. I think. I can’t think. Shit.