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  One tick passes. Two. Until finally she grips the hem of her dress, hesitates for a split second, and pulls it off over her head. I vaguely register her tossing it aside in a red flash, but I’m too busy needing to fuck Teresa until she can’t move after that. I’ve seen her bare thighs, seen her bouncy little tits. It has been voted on and decided that her face is the most spectacular part about her, mainly because it’s so curious and suspicious and sly and charming and everything in between. But the whole package put together?

  She’s a gift from God.

  I accept.

  “From here on out, you’re mine.”

  Her hands freeze on their way to my shoulders. “What?”

  Pull back, man. She’s not there yet. I am, though, apparently, and my impulse is to demand she get there, too. The unknown secrets between us force me to check myself, though. “I want you and this body of yours on retainer.” I slide my hands up her thighs, stopping at her hips to pull her closer. “If I call, you show up. No questions asked. You spread your pretty thighs on the couch in my office and wait for me to unbuckle.”

  Right in front of my eyes, her nipples turn into even tighter peaks, her knees shaking on either side of my lap. “I-I—uh…” She sucks in shallow, back-to-back breaths. “What do I get in return?”

  Intuition tells me she doesn’t want to hear what I’d do in real life. That I’d fall like a starving man to my knees and eat her pussy, not giving a fuck if my employees heard her shrieking for mercy through the walls. No, right now she’s hot to be used, just like she told me—and I need to be the one who gives her that. “You get to keep the boss happy, whether it’s on your knees or on your back.” I tip my head toward the stacked pile of cash. “And I make it so you start wishing I’d call twice a day, which I damn well might, because you’ve got a sweet, young pussy on you. Isn’t that right?”

  “Yes.” I look down to find a dark shadow on the front of her panties, and knowing she’s that damn wet makes me want to pound my chest. My dick is so full and aching, I’m about to break. To crack the fantasy in half. About to unzip my pants and tempt her to sit down on my cock with more of the filthy talk she so clearly loves. But she has something else in mind.

  Both hands lift, fingers tangling in her long, dark hair. She looks me right in the eye as she slowly pops her hips left, right, left, right. If she’s challenging me to maintain eye contact, I fail after about five seconds, desperate to memorize the jiggle of her tits, those rosy points turning my mouth to a fucking desert, making my hands clench where they’ve fallen on the seat. I don’t know where to look, because she’s a goddamn feast of golden, glowing skin and sex and jack-off fodder. Lust is coating me like sizzling oil, pooling in my lap.

  I rake a hand down my open mouth, not surprised to find I’m breathing like a bull during a rodeo…and I do it. I finally let myself look at her pussy. And the moan that rips from me is almost inhuman. “Ah, Christ. Those wet panties are sticking to you, baby. I can see the split of your lips.” She arches her back and moves faster, her knees sliding wider on the seat, bringing her mound within two inches of the fattened bulge beneath my zipper. “I can see how bad you want to grind down on it.”

  Teresa sobs, the swaying movements of her body faltering. “Please. Yes.”

  My hands cup her backside, kneading the naked flesh roughly. “No. Not this time.” Saying the words is painful, but I’m seeing this experiment through—to the very end—because she will know her needs are fulfilled by me. And fuck, it’s getting me off, too, because she’s shaking like a leaf, whimpering in her throat like she can’t take much more. “I’m paying you to dance.” My hand rains down a blow to her ass and she gasps. “Keep your soaking wet pussy up in the air above my cock where it belongs.”

  “Please. Please. I’m…” She grabs on to the seat behind me, her hips moving in tight figure eights, making her tits bob, her thighs flex. Jesus, it’s getting hard to breathe, hard to restrain myself, hard to do anything but focus on getting her off. “I don’t know h-how, but I’m so close. If I could just—”

  I reach between her thighs from behind and slap her pussy—smack—rolling her unfocused eyes back in her head. “You heard me the first time. If you grind your cunt down where it hasn’t been invited, your mouth is going to pay the price.”

  Her knees try to squeeze closed, but they can’t, because my thighs are blocking them. We both stare down at her soaked panties, straight through to the pussy beneath, that sways left to right above my brutal erection. “I-I…what is it? The price.”

  The way she licks her lips tells me she knows exactly what it is. “You’re going to find out if you can’t help being a bad girl.”

  “I can’t,” she whispers, lowering another inch. “I can’t.”

  A growl builds deep in my chest, a bead of sweat rolling down my spine. I’m not sure I’ve ever wanted anything as much as I want her to drop that appetizing pussy on my cock and ride herself to an orgasm on it through my pants. Just thinking about it is causing precome to dribble from my tip in anticipation of my balls emptying for Teresa. Like they did last night. And again this morning in the shower. My hand and imagination were a billion miles from the real thing—and she’s so real, shaking and whimpering and attempting to dance above me, I know I’m wrecked for anyone else.

  Sensing she needs a final push, I reach over and pluck several hundred-dollar bills off the door handle. One by one, I tuck them under the thin side strap of her thong, memorizing the way her head falls back, mouth open, hips writhing. By the time I’m finished, there’s so much green around her hips, it looks like she’s wearing a short, ripped skirt. There’s literally a half-inch separating her from my erection now and I have to clench my teeth together to stop from thrusting up and ending the agony. “Don’t you dare.” I run my palms up her thighs. “Don’t you dare go any lower. I don’t care how hard your little clit is throbbing inside those panties. I don’t care how good it would feel to have something fat and firm against it.”

  “Please.”

  “No.”

  “Please,” she cries out, her thighs sliding the final distance wider. And then she’s finally seated on my lap, her pupils dilated, mouth dropped open.

  Yes. Heat swarms my balls, my cock jerking at the soft but demanding friction. “Oh God. Oh shit,” she whispers brokenly, burying her face in the crook of my neck. “I n-need this. Just, just, please…”

  Flush against me, every part of us touching, her hips begin pumping hard, dragging her hot flesh up and down my aching cock. She’s like the goddess of flexibility, her thighs so wide, she’s doing the goddamn splits right on top of me, giving me such insane pressure and—Jesus, the rubbing—a ragged moan scrapes up my throat and fills the car.

  “I’m going to come.” Her eyes meet mine and she looks so exhilarated, shocked and turned on, I forget how to speak. “Feels so good. You’re so hard.”

  “Tell me something I don’t know,” I grit out, grabbing her ass in both hands and pulling her drenched juncture tight to my dick. No way to stop myself, I punch my hips up again and again, listening to the scream build in her throat. “I’m going to need this pussy for house calls, too. It’s worth its weight in gold.”

  Teresa sucks in a breath and goes off, her body trembling violently, her hands twisting in the material covering my shoulders. “Oh. Oh. Will. Jesus.”

  She bears down on me, twisting, hips spasming. Heat leaks through my fly. I feel her teeth sink into my neck, an involuntary search for anchor, and I feel like a God, knowing she found it in me. In my body. “There you go, baby. Thought I’d let you get on a bus? No. No. Fuck that. Mine.”

  I’m not sure if she hears me—hears anything—but when her head lifts and our eyes lock, there’s no discussion about prices or penalties. Or what happens next. She can feel how bad I need release. Hell, she just rode it like a prize horse. And my jaw is about to shatter, sweat bathing my forehead, so I’m pretty damn sure I look like a man possessed. I sound like on
e, too, as Teresa positions herself beside me on the seat, bent forward, sweet ass in the air. Our hands collide, trying to get my pants unzipped and my cock out. Only takes five seconds, but might as well be centuries.

  So, she doesn’t make me wait longer than necessary, this incredible girl with the warm, welcoming mouth that slides halfway down my length on her first suck, sending my fist up to punch the ceiling. “Yeah. Fuck yeah, woman. Just like that.” I bury my fists in her hair, twisting the silk around my knuckles and wrists. “Suck my motherfucking dick.”

  Her hands join the action, twisting down to my base, followed by her eager mouth. So I give her my touch, too, scraping my palm down her arched back, stopping to squeeze her ass like I own it, before venturing between her thighs.

  “Fuck, you wet little thing. You want more?” The vibrations from her affirmative answer echo down my cock, so I don’t hesitate to sink my middle finger inside her, twisting it to search for her G-spot. When I encounter that rough patch, her body jolts and she moans, her mouth sinking down lower on me. “You can take more when you’re grateful, is that right?” I abuse the spot with the pad of my finger, watching her thighs dance around with a second climax. “Couldn’t take it for long, baby? That makes two of us. Get ready for mine.”

  Pressure has already been mounting like a raging river caught behind a dam inside me, but saying the words out loud seems to give my body permission to set loose the fire Teresa stokes. My stomach muscles seize, blood pounding in my head—and Christ, pleasure spears me like a weapon, robbing me of my ability to do anything but groan like a depraved bastard. I let go of her hair in case she doesn’t want to swallow, but I think I’m chanting at her to drink me down, my body heaving its way through the best peak of its life.

  I’m not sure how much time passes before Teresa sits up, her hair and clothes in disarray, eyes wide. If she’s feeling anything like me, she just got hit by a train and doesn’t know where she landed. I don’t want her to feel like that—ever—especially with me. So I hold my arms open and after a deep breath, she falls into them, sighing in a content way when I arrange her sideways on my lap.

  That’s when we notice Southpaw watching us from the hood of the car, with an expression that could only be described as disappointment in our self-control.

  “What’s it going to take to forget what you saw here?” I ask, before dropping my voice to what I imagine is how a Great Dane would speak. “The ribeye. Rare. And this all goes away.”

  Her bright, clear laugh makes my chest feel tight. Makes me wish I’d never called New York to order her background check. Because the longer I spend with Teresa, the more I need her to trust me. If I didn’t need to trust her in return just as much, I’d call off the intrusive exercise and wait.

  Wait for her to tell me her secrets, instead.

  But as I watch her get dressed and notice the tension creep back into her shoulders, the solemn expression stealing the smile from her face, I know I can’t call off a damn thing.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Teresa

  Well, shit.

  It doesn’t matter how many times I fix the dress, I still feel naked on the way into the restaurant for lunch. My nipples are chafed from sliding up and down the front of Will’s shirt, my ass is smarting from being slapped. Don’t get me started on my vagina. She’s down for the count. Do not disturb.

  Lord. In. Heaven. Will might be the only man I’ve ever met who talks a big game and doesn’t only back it up, but overshoots the mark. I’m literally walking funny through the entrance and he wasn’t even inside me.

  I’m going to need a medevac when that happens.

  Wait. Whoa, whoa, whoa. That is not going to happen. I am not doing thrust squats in his cucumber patch.

  I can’t.

  He’s just making it so damn difficult to say no. You’re going to work this little kink out on my lap so we know its flavor, woman. Understand? Then I’m going to hold the door open for you on the way into that restaurant. Going to pull out your chair and dare anyone with a dick to look below your neck. I’m going to be the same man after you take off that dress for me.

  And he does. He holds the door for me, kissing my shoulder as I walk by.

  Everyone in the small, homespun bar and grill turns in their seat or barstool when we reach the hostess station, probably because I look like a woman who just screamed through two orgasms in the backseat of a Chevelle. Getting hundred-dollar bills stuffed in her thong while a dog watched at least a partial viewing of the show.

  Not bad for a weekday.

  Logically, I know letting Will touch me is a mistake. Because it’s not just touching. He’s…seeing me. Right through the top layer none of the men who passed before could even put a dent in. My heart starts to slam into my jugular thinking about the way he held me afterward. Not like a woman who’d stripped and given him head. Like a woman he could cherish.

  Do you hear yourself? I barely know this man and he’s making me lose sight of what’s always been most important. My brother. I need to pull it together and stay objective, but that’s easier said than done when I can’t distance myself from Will. Not if I want to achieve my goal of getting him to New York. Which will never happen if I go to bed with him.

  Why is my conviction on that score fading so fast?

  Waiting for the waitress to approach, I cast a casual glance around the restaurant, searching for the man in the white baseball cap. Why? If he was indeed sent by Silas—and I’m still not sure my imagination wasn’t working overtime—I didn’t see the black sedan at all during the last twenty minutes on the highway. He didn’t pull into the parking lot behind us, either. At least not before I became occupied. Unbelievable. I didn’t think of our tail even once while I was…getting tail. Part of me is almost hoping to spot the man, just so I’ll be reminded of the situation’s severity. Maybe then I’ll stop mooning over a certain hedge fund manager.

  Of course, Will makes that impossible. He twines our fingers together and tugs me into his side, that warning look I remember from last night in his eyes, directed at a group of men at the bar. I take the opportunity to study his chiseled profile. How long can his possessiveness toward me last? I never took myself for the kind of woman who liked an alpha male growling around her, but I can’t deny it makes me feel powerfully feminine.

  This is very bad.

  “What are you thinking about?”

  I’ve been so absorbed in my own thoughts, I didn’t realize Will was watching me. Very closely. “Food, mostly.”

  His mouth twitches. “She lies.”

  There’s a sharp, invisible jab in my chest. “Thank you for not, um…”

  The amusement fades from his expression. “For not what?”

  “I don’t know. For not offering to let me keep the money.” My face heats, thinking of the crisp slide of bills against my hips, my tummy. “For already knowing I wouldn’t.”

  Understanding dawns and he dips his head, resting his mouth against my ear. Staying there for a beat before speaking. “I won’t let those lines get blurred, Teresa. Because if you decide tomorrow you want to play something different, you’re going to trust me enough to come get it right here.” He moves back, tilting his head at me. “I also put that money back in my wallet because I like my nuts right where they are.”

  Appreciation makes me featherlight. “Smart man.”

  “Mysterious woman.”

  It’s hard to keep my smile intact while he’s so close, scrutinizing me, interpreting every blink, every breath. What is he seeing? Thinking? I’m about to lose our staring contest, when I’m saved by the hostess.

  “Y’all can follow me.” We turn to find a teenager with braces waiting with two menus. She almost drops them when she sees Will, her shoes squeaking on the floor as she scrambles to keep them in her arms. Apparently, I’ve been so distracted by Will’s personality, I forgot how freaking hot he is. “Uh. Can I sit you all in the bar area? We d-don’t allow dogs in the grill.”

&
nbsp; Will gives her a patient smile. “That’s fine. Thank you.”

  “Sure.”

  The hostess doesn’t move for at least a five-count, beaming up at Will the way I used to look at my Spielberg posters. Eventually we start heading in the direction of the bar, though. It’s an ancient place, much like the biker bar where we ate dinner last night, but the clientele is way different. The way they lean on one another’s shoulders and share features tells me they’re either related or they’ve known each other so long, they’ve started to look alike.

  Southpaw breaks the ice with the group of men Will tried to kill before with his icy death ray stare, a couple of them going down on one knee to greet the pooch. Southpaw asks Will for permission with a glance, receives the nod, then plods over to receive a round of ear-scratching and belly-rubbing.

  As we take our seats, Will is fighting a smile, his phone elevated to snap a picture of the scene. “Caption,” he drawls. “Rub and tug.”

  A laugh escapes, but I still shake my head at him. “Do you ever get jealous?”

  “Over Southpaw making new friends?” He stows his phone in his front pocket and throws me a devilish wink. “Only if the guy is better looking than me. So it’s happened—”

  “Never?”

  “You said it, not me.”

  My mouth will not stop trying to smile. “I was speaking in predictive text.”

  His laugh rumbles across the table, sprouting goosebumps everywhere I have skin. Which is all of the places. “Now if you wanted your belly rubbed by someone else, we’d have a problem,” Will says, the smile no longer reaching his eyes. “Tell me something about you. Something I don’t know.”

  My pulse is still spiking after his comment. And whether it’s a habit to distance myself from anything too serious with a man…or a caution signal going off, reminding me I’m getting too close to the man I’m conning, I speak without thinking. “You say all these growly caveman things, like you’re going to drag me back to your cave. But we’re only on a detour together.”