Love Me (Take a Chance)

chapter Four


As the cab pulled away in a crunch of gravel, Brianna smoothed her disarrayed clothing and looked anywhere but at Thomas. Good God, she’d been all over the man. She wasn’t even sure what had happened. He’d kissed her, and some long-dead part of her had come very suddenly and very vocally to life.

And that part of her wanted his body atop her, locked with her, filling her until she screamed.

Guilt sank its ugly claws into her. What was she doing? She looked down at the band of paler skin on her ring finger and clenched her fingers. It had been far too long since she’d looked at a man, let alone let herself go like that. The last time had been clumsy fumbling with some guy from a dating site. She’d realized then that she didn’t want to get back into the world of awkward first dates and disastrous attempts at forced intimacy.

She’d realized that she couldn’t replace him, and his shadow would always follow her through every failed relationship, every moment of doubt that when the next man said, It’s not you, it’s me, he meant, It’s you. It’s you and all your baggage.

Thomas would be no different. Just because her body didn’t have the sense God gave little green apples didn’t mean she had to let it rule her choices. She needed to keep her distance, or she’d be in trouble faster than she could say “blackjack.”

He offered his arm, but she retreated a step. Calm. Composure. She drew herself up and forced a polite smile. “I think this was a bad idea. I’d like to go home now.”

He rocked back on his heels, his face open and vulnerable for once. He didn’t look like he was any more in control of what had happened back in that cab then she was. It made her relax a tiny bit.

Meeting her eyes, he asked, “Do you really want to go home? Or are you just a little bit scared of what happened? I’ll admit, it was pretty damn intense.”

“Well, yes and no.” She blew out a breath. If he was going to be completely honest, then so would she. “This scared me, yes. This is entirely unlike me. I don’t normally do…do that. In the back of a cab. With a stranger.”

His grin was wolfish. Dangerous. And it sent delicious tremors right down into the heart of her. “If that was any indication…you’ve been needing to for a long time.”

Wrong thing to say—even if he was absolutely correct. “You have no idea what I do or don’t need.”

He stepped closer, his nostrils flaring. “I know that I need you. I know that I don’t want you to leave, but will stand here and watch you drive off in a cab if you want to go.”

She closed her eyes. Need wasn’t an adequate word to describe the molten thing curling in her stomach and flowing lower with every moment, but if she stayed…she knew she would end up in his bed. Tonight. Did she really want that? Was she ready?

“I don’t want to go,” she finally whispered.

Before the words were completely out of her mouth, he was behind her—wrapping his arms around her, pulling her back against his body. Lust was a potent thing that left her dizzy. The heat of him wrapped around her until she felt lewd, a flush of arousal swallowing her like a burning, wet mouth licking everywhere over her skin.

And from the way he pressed into her, at least one part of him was very honestly, genuinely interested in her. In what they’d been doing in the back of the cab. In what they could be doing upstairs in just a few minutes.

His broad hands spread over her stomach, smoothing down the front of her skirt with a deliberate touch. His voice rumbled in her ear, rough and compelling. “Come inside with me.”

She trembled. Trembled and pressed back against him. Her breasts felt heavy, her nipples achingly sensitive, the pulse between her thighs hot and ready, every part of her aching for that touch to wander a little more. She licked her lips. “Is this why you brought me here?”

“No,” he said, and pulled her tighter against him until she could feel his heartbeat throbbing in the hard flesh pressed against her bottom. “I brought you here because my hotel has a fabulous Mexican restaurant that doesn’t even have salads on the menu.”

Her laughter burst out before she could stop it, then trailed into a sigh as his lips feathered over her neck. His stubble teased her until every light brush against her throat sent prickles through her entire body.

“Thomas—Thomas, we’re outside on the sidewalk—”

“Then let’s not be.”

He drew back, leaving her cold. Before she could protest, he laced his fingers with hers and drew her toward the door.

She followed him without speaking.

Words were pointless. When she decided to stay, she knew exactly what she was getting herself into. She fell silent and followed him into the hotel. His long strides slowed past the front door, relaxing into casual arrogance. She stole a quick glance up at him. His face was impassive—but when he caught her look from the corner of his eye, the heat smoldering there sent a thrill through her that left her thighs aching.

God, she was really going to do this. Have meaningless sex with a man she barely knew.

She almost chickened out at the elevator. Almost protested, but then the doors opened and he pulled her inside with sure, easy strength. They were the only ones inside; he hit the button for the seventh floor.

The moment the doors shut, he was on her.

Her breath flew from her as those godforsakenly wondrous hands curled against her waist and pushed her back against the steel wall of the elevator. His body, wild savagery barely caged inside the civilized layer of his shirt, pressed hot against her.

His lips melded to hers. He ravished her mouth, filling her with the taste of him, caressing her so deeply it was delicious. Indecent. Lascivious. Obscene, and so unlike her that, as she melted under his kiss, she wondered dimly who this soft, yielding woman was, moaning in his arms.

Then his fingers stroked down over her hips and dragged her close; his cock nudged against her, hard and sinful and thrilling. She whimpered and clung to him. That wanton woman she didn’t recognize wrapped her legs around his waist. The hard heaviness of him spread her thighs until they hurt, and her skirt inched up her legs, baring her to him. Baring her to the burning pressure of him, the insistent need nudging against her, teasing her through panties so thin she almost felt him against her bare skin.

The elevator doors slid apart with a soft chime. Without releasing her mouth or her body, he carried her into the hallway. His hands slid down to cup her ass, fingers gripping with a maddening roughness. With every slow, blind, fumbling step down the hallway, his mouth ravished hers until she was trembling, panting, biting him with an urgency that simmered under her skin and trembled in her bones.

With a husky snarl, he slammed her up against the door of a room. The breath knocked from her. The door rattled in its frame. His mouth dipped to her throat, but she tangled her fingers in his hair and dragged him back to kiss him. She wanted to taste more of him. Devour him. Sink into him and never let go.

She wasn’t sure how he got the door unlocked. Wasn’t sure when his hand left her ass and found the keycard. She dimly heard the beep of the security lock over the harsh mingling of their breaths. Then the door opened behind her and they nearly fell into the room together. He raked his hands over her body, lingering to caress the outer curves of her breasts. She tore at his tie, ripping it off him hungrily.

He stopped kissing her long enough to allow her to yank his tie off. His hand slid under her blouse and touched her with brushes so light she quivered with a fierce and fiery sensitivity. Slowly, with a deliberation that left her feeling shamefully exposed, he drew her shirt up and off. It fell to the floor with his tie. He fell still, simply looking at her, his eyes unreadable and darkly intense.

She fought the urge to cover herself. Old insecurities she thought long dead and buried crept back up. This man was pure perfection. But she met his eyes—and sucked in a harsh breath. His eyes blazed with desire, leaving no doubt.

He wanted her.

His gaze seemed to strip her of more than her clothing, making her feel vulnerable. Fear and longing twined inextricably. His thumbs grazed her cheekbones; his lips brushed hers with a softness that made her burn for something more. Something rougher, deeper, hotter—but he stopped. Denying her. Tormenting her.

“I can stop,” he whispered against her mouth, every syllable brushing her lips tauntingly. “If you want to leave, leave now. Last chance.”

“Don’t,” she gasped, and rocked up against him. “Don’t you dare stop.”

With a rough sound, his mouth crashed against hers, his tongue sliding past her lips to claim her again. It was like letting an animal free from its cage, and the beast was ravenous. He cupped her breasts. His thumbs grazed over the sheer fabric, taunting her nipples until she arched into his hand and sucked in a sharp breath. Her fingers found his hair again, tugged as if he were the only thing anchoring her in the rough tide of pleasure. God, she needed him so badly. Hadn’t realized how much she missed a man’s touch until now.

When he squeezed her nipples, she moaned and clawed at his shirt. Her fingers fought with the buttons as she nibbled at his throat, then licked the sting away. She fumbled. Need made her clumsy—and her damned fingers kept slipping off the tiny plastic buttons.

“Shit.” He yanked his shirt off. Buttons flew in every direction. She tightened her legs around his hips and rubbed against him. Her bra clasp slipped open with a simple flick of his wrist. Her breasts spilled free and into his hands.

He cupped them, drawing in a ragged breath. He pressed her tighter against the wall and rolled her nipples between his thumbs and fingers. His mouth captured hers again. She scraped her nails down his back. God, his body was hard. Tight. So damned perfect. She traced his abs down to his pants, and when her fingers hit fabric, she tugged at his waistband.

He let go of her, and she slipped down onto her own two feet—and then onto her knees. He pulled a condom from his pocket. She stole it.

“Not just yet.”

He looked down at her in surprise. “Brianna?”

She cupped his erection, pressing her palm against his heat through the fabric. His abdominal muscles clenched and he hissed. She unbuttoned his slacks and let them fall to his ankles. With a teasing kiss to his stomach, she drew his boxers down. Once he was free from his clothing, she wrapped her fingers around his smooth shaft, leaned in, and flicked her tongue against the tip of his cock. He groaned and buried his hands in her hair, rocking his hips against her mouth.

She licked the head, then took him into her mouth. She teased him with her lips and tongue and gentle suction. His shuddering groans, the hot pulse of him on her tongue, stole her breath and left her hot, craving. His fingers clenched in her hair, spasming, and he let out a tortured sound. His hips jerked, and his cock pushed against the back of her throat.

“You have to stop,” he gasped hoarsely.

She drew back. “Last chance for you to leave.”

When he growled, she flashed him a slow smile and tore the condom wrapper open. With one last teasing nuzzle, she rolled the condom over his length. He bit off a curse and pulled her to her feet. His lips closed over hers without a moment’s hesitation. He grabbed her skirt, flipped it up, and pressed her back against the wall again. His thumb hooked her panties and dragged them aside.

She quivered at his touch and moaned into his mouth. He pulled away for just a moment—then, with one smooth, almost violent thrust, buried inside her, filling her so completely she thought she would burst. She gasped out a ragged cry and dug her nails into his back, raking him with every inch that burned her, stretched her, took her.

He withdrew, then thrust harder. Smoother. Again and again, and she met each stroke, each touch, with a need she’d never known she could feel. Her throat was tight, her eyes hot, her ears ringing with her own wild cries. When he reached between them and found her *, she lost all control. His strokes built the pressure to a boiling point until she tensed in his arms and her need unraveled into a burst of vivid pleasure, a pinnacle of luscious tension that threatened to break her deeply sensitized body. He snarled and plunged into her one last time, before joining her in a trembling, clutching release.

He dropped his forehead to her shoulder. His ragged breathing teased her throat.

“Holy shit.”

She let out a wordless affirmative groan and rested her head on his shoulder. She felt like she’d run a marathon, her entire body sore. God, they didn’t even make it to the bed. Hell, they’d barely made it into the room. She’d needed that, desperately. It had probably been building up inside her since Michael—

Michael.

The heat and blissful buzz bled from her, leaving her heavy and cold. What the hell had she just done? Thrown herself at a man she hardly knew, that was what. When she knew better. When she had responsibilities that didn’t give her these kinds of freedoms.

And he’d probably go back to the office and brag to the other execs about bagging the account by bagging that frigid bitch.

“You’re tense,” he rumbled. He drew back. Dark, intense eyes searched hers. “What’s wrong?”

She closed her eyes. She couldn’t look at him. Not when he’d see the shame on her face, in her eyes—and she’d likely see the triumph in his, as arrogant as the rest of him. She swallowed past her aching throat and opened her eyes.

“Let me down, please.”

He said nothing, but after a moment he separated their bodies carefully; she fought not to cry out as he slipped out of her, leaving her throbbing and sore and feeling, as much as she hated it, deliciously used. But that’s all it was, wasn’t it? He’d used her for pleasure.

And she’d used him.

She smoothed her clothing, pulling her skirt down. Damn it, her hands were shaking, fumbling, clumsy. She choked out a curse.

He took her hand, steadying it, then tugged her skirt down and handed her her shirt. She shrugged it on, hugging it closed across her breasts. What should she do now? Thank him for the good lay? Shake his hand and run?

What had she gotten herself into?

She couldn’t think about this. She threw her shoulders back and forced words past the knot in her throat. “If you’ll excuse me.”

He stared at her, his dark eyes flinty. “Brianna, I—”

“Don’t.” She couldn’t look him in the eye right now, so she turned away. Bending down she picked up her bra and slid it on. With her back to him, she let the shirt fall and dressed herself. The whole time, she felt ridiculously exposed. Even more ridiculous, considering what they’d just done.

“You don’t have to run away,” he said, his voice guttural. “Stay for dinner.”

She wanted to look at him so badly. To see if he looked as upset as he sounded. But she didn’t turn around even after her shirt was firmly back in place. “No, thank you, Mr. Jones.”

“Brianna, don’t do this.”

“I already did. You can have a courier send the contract to my office tomorrow.” She put her shirt back on and buttoned it up. “There’s no need for us to communicate in person again.”

“Damn it.” He made an angry sound. “Tonight wasn’t about contracts or work, and you know it.”

She gritted her teeth. “Good night.”

And without giving him a chance to speak, she turned and walked from the room with her head held high as quickly as she could without running.

And her feet bare.