Blood is roaring in my ears. “But you don’t get social with your employees,” I remind him quietly.
“I’d make an exception for you.” His face is getting close and closer. Slowly. A centimeter at a time.
“But it’s your rule.”
“I’ll break it for you,” he whispers.
“No, don’t do that,” I say breathlessly.
“Fine, then you’re fired,” he says just as his lips meet mine.
They are warm and the pressure is light. At first. As much as I want to resist, my resolve goes out the window when I feel his tongue run along the crease of my lips. Without thinking, I part them.
And that’s all it takes.
The taste of Cash is like a perfectly aged Scotch—rich and delicious. His tongue slides along mine, stroking it, teasing it, as he uses his grip on my hand to pull me tighter to him. I do the only thing I can. I melt into him.
The fingers of his free hand work their way into my hair and tilt my head to the side as he deepens the kiss. He gets more aggressive, like he wants to gobble me up. And I want him to. God, I want him to.
He releases my hand and I feel his palm at the base of my spine. He splays his fingers and presses me into him.
He’s hard. And he’s huge. I can feel him against my belly. Warmth gushes through me, pooling between my legs. It’s been so long and I know instinctively that any sexual time spent with Cash would be earth-shattering, soul-screaming, body-rocking time.
Time that I’d probably live to regret when I got too close and he got too bored.
The reality of what I’m doing slaps me in the face and I pull back. My hands are in his hair, my body is glued to his and I ache for him from head to toe. But still, I pull back.
“What’s the matter?” he asks, his eyes dark with passion and peppered with confusion.
“We can’t do this.”
“I was just kidding about firing you.”
“That’s not what I mean.”
“Then what do you mean?”
He steps back to give me room, but he grabs my hands to keep me from completely retreating. I don’t know why I let him hold them. Probably because I really don’t want him to let go. I just know that I should.
“Cash, all my life I’ve picked the wrong guy. The bad boy, the wild child, the rebel without a cause. I bet you didn’t even graduate high school, did you?” Cash doesn’t correct me, doesn’t deny it. “See? That’s the kind of guy I’m attracted to. You’re the kind of guy I’m attracted to. I won’t even pretend I’m not. But you’re the worst thing in the world for me. I’ve had my heart broken one too many times and I’m done. I’m done trying to tame the guys like you.”
He watches me closely, nodding slowly. “I understand that. I really do. But you want me and I want you. Can’t we just have that?”
My mouth drops open a little. “You’re kidding, right?”
“No.”
“You’re seriously asking to have meaningless sex with me?”
“Oh, it won’t be meaningless,” he declares with a grin. “It will be everything you want it to be, with the understanding that, in the end, we’ll go our separate ways.”
“That’s the problem. Who picks when the end will be? You?”
“No, you can decide that. Or we can decide that together. Up front. We can stop when you’re ready to stop. Or before it becomes something you don’t want it to become.”
I know I should be offended, not intrigued. “But that’s just…just…”
“It’s just like the majority of other relationships without all the lies and expectations. That’s all it is. It’s practical and it’s smart.”
“A practical, smart sexual relationship?” I know my look is dubious. It has to be.
“Yes, but also a fiery, exciting, intensely pleasurable one,” he says, his voice dropping into a slower, deeper cadence. He steps toward me again. “I promise you won’t regret it. I promise to make you feel things and enjoy things you never even thought of before. I’ll make every night the best night of your life until you say it’s over. And then I’ll walk away. No hard feelings. Only sweet, sweet memories,” he purrs as he rubs our joined hands up and down the outsides of his thighs.
I know I should be slapping him or laughing in his face or at least pretending to be deeply insulted, which I should be. Yet I’m not. Instead, I’m actually considering what he’s saying.
Cash is smart enough to know when to pull back and let things ride. So he does.
“Give it some thought. We can talk more this weekend. In the meantime,” he whispers as he bends near my ear, “think about how it will feel to have my tongue inside you.” He nips my lobe with his teeth and I feel it all the way in the pit of my stomach. I bite my lip to keep from moaning. “And I’ll be thinking about what you taste like.”
And then, damn him, he turns around and walks off, leaving me standing in a puddle near the hood of my car.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN - Nash
I’ve stayed away from Marissa on purpose, just so I don’t run into Olivia. Not only could she screw up my plans in a big way, she doesn’t deserve all the trouble I come with. She didn’t seem too concerned when I told her about Dad, but that’s just the tip of the iceberg. Well, maybe not the tip, but it’s at least only half of the iceberg.
But, as usual, Marissa started getting pouty and demanding, so here I am, soothing ruffled feathers over coffee. I glance at my watch. I’m really hoping to miss Olivia altogether. I think I remember Marissa saying she has her early classes on Mondays and Wednesdays. I need to be gone before she gets up. Seeing her will only make it harder to stay away from her. A man can only be pushed so far before he gives in, regardless of the consequences.
“If it wasn’t important, I’m sure he wouldn’t be asking me to go,” Marissa is saying. I’m sure it’s something I should be paying attention to, not ignoring while I think about her cousin.
“I’m sorry, go where?”
She sticks out her lip. “What’s wrong with you? I wanted you to come over so I could spend some time with you before I left, not talk to you while you stare into your coffee.”
I sigh. “I’m sorry, babe. I just keep thinking about that case Carl has me working on.” I set my mug down and reach for her hands. Her ice cold hands.
Damn, that’s fitting.
“Tell me again. I’m all yours,” I declare with a smile.
“Daddy wants me to go with two of the senior staff to Grand Cayman to look over those accounts. I’m hoping that means he’s gonna let me in on the whole project.”
I understand her excitement. I’m envious of the opportunity. She’s three years older than me, so she’s already graduated and practicing law, while I’m still stuck in internship for another few months.
“That’s great! I’m so proud of you. I’ll miss you, of course, but when do you leave?”
“Tomorrow.” She’s still pouting.
“And how long will you be gone?”
“At least two weeks. Could be longer.”
“Well, that just gives us good reason to celebrate when you get back, because I’ll have missed you and you’ll have good news. I’m sure of it.” I pull her to me and she plops down on my lap. She winds her thin arms around my neck and kisses me. I know all I’d have to do is pick her up and carry her into the bedroom and I could have an early-morning quickie, but I don’t. I’m not that heartless and inconsiderate, because even as she’s in my lap, wiggling around and kissing me, I’m thinking of bright green eyes, jet black hair and the luscious little body sleeping just a couple rooms away. And that’s not cool.
Marissa leans back and frowns down at me. “You still seem distracted.”
“I’m fine. Really. I just need to get going. I was supposed to be getting some paperwork ready over an hour ago.”
She smiles. “So you’re saying you’re blowing off work to spend the morning with me?”
“Yep. That’s what I’m saying.”
She gets that look in her eyes and she presses her upper body into mine and rubs back and forth. Obligingly, I cup her small br**sts and stroke her hard ni**les with my thumbs. Her lids close a little and I know where this is going.
And then a throat clears. Both Marissa and I look up to see Olivia standing in the doorway, looking sleepy yet horrified.
“What?” Marissa snaps. “Get your coffee and go. We’re a little busy.”
She turns back to me to pick up where we left off, but I stop her. “I really need to go.” Without giving her a chance to say much else, I scoot her off my lap and stand. From the corner of my eye, I can see Olivia looking at me. I avoid eye contact at all costs. I can feel her shooting daggers at my heart, though. And at my dick. I’m sure she’s just about ready to spew venom and hatred all over the kitchen floor. What she doesn’t know, though, is that I hate myself ten times more than she could ever hate me for what I did, for what almost happened.
“But wait. I wanted to ask you if you’d pick up my car from the shop on Monday. I’ll leave my keys for you.”
“Fine,” I say hurriedly, grabbing her hand and towing her out of the kitchen.
If Olivia wanted me to feel guilty, mission accomplished!
“I’ll call you later,” I say, pecking her on the lips. “Maybe we can have dinner tonight.” In my head, I’m thinking I’ll say anything to get out of here.
“I can’t! I’m going to spend the night with Mom and then riding to the airport together with Daddy in the morning. Hang on. Let me get you my keys. I can call for the limo later.”
She rushes off, leaving me standing by the door waiting, hoping Olivia stays put. But she doesn’t. Of course.
I see her come to stand in the doorway. Although it’s against my better judgment, I turn to look at her. In her eyes is embarrassment and disappointment and shame, yes, but there’s also the spark of whatever is between us. There’s just no denying that we’re attracted to each other. Very, very attracted to each other.
I hear Marissa’s voice. She’s on the phone with someone, so I move toward Olivia.
I don’t really know what to say, so I just stand there, staring down at her. She really is breathtaking, even first thing in the morning.
Before I even realize what I’m doing, I rub my fingertips down her smooth cheek. Her eyelids flutter shut, making me want to kiss them.
“Sorry about that,” I hear Marissa say as she comes down the hall. I step back and walk to the door, stopping where she left me. I glance quickly back at Olivia. There’s a mixture of emotions on her face, emotions I can’t easily identify. Unless it’s the same thing I’m feeling, too.
CHAPTER NINETEEN - Olivia
Maybe it’s PMS. Maybe it’s just the stress of too much change too quickly. I have no idea really, but I feel like all of a sudden, my life is a train wreck.
And most of the wreckage revolves around two guys. Two guys that, for totally different reasons, are tearing me up inside. Two guys I want. Two guys I can’t have. Two guys I can’t stop thinking about.
I want Cash—badly—on a purely physical level, although he is cute and charming, which only adds to the danger level. But I want Nash just as badly, but in a different way. There’s a physical component for sure. He turns me on something fierce. But he’s just the kind of guy that I want, that I need in my life.
I don’t think I retained a single word from any of my three classes today. I’m more thankful than ever that a lot of it is fluff stuff—statistics, sociology and body mechanics, which is like the college version of gym class.
By the time I get back home, I’m exhausted. More emotionally than physically, but it ends up feeling like the same thing. In the quiet of the apartment, knowing I’ll have it all to myself for two weeks (a fact which I gleaned accidentally rather than Marissa actually telling me herself), I decide to lie down on the couch to take a short nap.
I wake up at 4:30, feeling no better. Just dead-headed. I’m still feeling icky in general, so I reach for my phone and call Shawna. I get her voice mail, which informs me she’s with her mom picking out flowers for the wedding.
The only other really close friend I have is Ginger, the bartender I worked with at Tad’s for years. Thankfully, she’s home.
After we talk for several minutes, she gets blunt, Ginger style. “All right, spill it. Something’s wrong.”
“No, nothing’s wrong.”
“You’re a terrible liar and I hate you for trying.”
I giggle. “No, you don’t.”
She pauses. “Okay, I don’t. But the only way you can make it up to me is to tell me what the hell’s up your butt.”
Ginger also has a way with words.
I sigh. “I guess I’m just missing home and friends and…I don’t know. Life just feels…complicated.”
“Uh-huh. This sounds like penis problems.”
“Ohmigod, Ginger! It’s not penis problems. You think everything is about sex.”
“Isn’t it?”
I laugh. “No. It’s not.”
“So this has nothing to do with a guy?”
I pause.
“Ah-ha! I knew it! Penis problems.”
“Well, it seems that the cause of some of my problems happens to have a penis. Well, two actually.”
“Oh sweet Mary! You’re dating a guy with two dicks?”