Flirting With Disaster Read online

  Women were all fine and good as long as they fit his vision. Trophies that could talk intelligently, that looked incredible on paper. Pesky when they didn't fall in line. He'd kissed her with passion, but since she was complicated—prickly—he'd moved on to a woman who had blushed deeply when he had offered his hand. He'd gone right for the kind of woman Brooke would never be again. Not for him. Not for anyone.

  Brooke was drunk and stupid for forgetting that she'd given up soft and sweet for a reason. Stupid for liking another man who turned from her to find nicer, softer, sweeter women.

  She jumped at the touch to her shoulder. Peyton's brows furrowed in concern.

  Brooke shook her head before her friend could ask what was wrong, and yelled over the horrible singer. “I just need some air.”

  Peyton opened her mouth to reply, but Brooke didn't give her the opportunity. She used the wall as a support to get around the counter then through to the kitchen until she pushed out the back door in the far corner.

  The spring season inched closer to summer but still the balmy air had disappeared this late at night. There were a ton of cars parked in the dirt lot surrounding The Grog. Peyton had felt it gave the bar a more Western feel than it really had so she'd chosen to leave the area around it unpaved.

  Brooke kept to the shadows and found a nice little nook along the building. She closed her eyes and rested her dizzy head against the wall. Just that easily and without a single conscious thought, Dane had dragged her back to the moment her life had changed. She hated feeling that vulnerable with someone else. Like he could break her with a word, make her doubt herself and her own femininity. She definitely hadn't missed the sensation that someone had ripped out her heart and she could no longer breathe.

  “Are you sick?” a familiar male voice asked.

  She pushed out a frustrated sigh, but her stomach tightened. “Did Peyton send you out here?”

  “No,” Dane sounded confused by the question. His voice was closer than before.

  She opened her eyes. He had his jacket clutched in his fist. She wasn't surprised he was outside. It was turning into the kind of night where her luck had escaped and refused to return. “I needed some air. Some air I really didn't want to share.”

  “You're drunk, and in a parking lot outside a bar by yourself. Nothing you say will make me go back inside.”

  “You still haven't told me why you're even out here trolling in the dark.”

  She couldn't see his face but the stiffening in his stance let her know he'd bristled at her words. “I saw you leave.”

  “And?”

  He sighed and intruded her personal space, throwing her off enough she couldn't think of a good enough reason why he shouldn't have. When she did, he threw his jacket over her shoulders, and whatever she had to say got caught up in his scent. The man was high maintenance. He smelled expensive and complicated and masculine. That combined scent turned into a curl of need in her stomach.

  “You know what? I don't care,” she said. The liquor had given her a heady buzz. If she had a filter, the whiskey had drowned it. “I came out here to remind myself of all the promises I made when I stopped believing in the happily-ever-after my mother had always told me existed.”

  He glared at her. “And why in the hell would you need to do that?”

  “Because I've had too many shots and I was looking at you, wanting you.” She grabbed a fistful of her hair and tugged as though that could help clear her thoughts and douse her arousal. “I know better when I'm sober.”

  He made a pfft sound. “You were sober when we were sitting on that bench.”

  “You caught me off guard.”

  “Don't insult me or yourself,” he said.

  She pulled his jacket closer around herself. The soft material kept her warm. That feeling made it easy to tell him the truth. He wasn't a threat, he was...there. “I don't need a man to make me feel whole, and that I've accomplished a full life just by getting hitched. I can have that without you or any man. I'm not less of a woman because I don't have soft hands. And I deserve better than to have a man who kisses me then another woman a few hours later. I don't need you, Dane. So, I don't understand why you're out here with me.”

  He stilled. “You're jealous?”

  She straightened her shoulders. “No.”

  His laugh was seductive as he stepped forward and ate up what was left of her personal space. He placed his hands on the building behind her. It was dark, yes, but with him so close she could make out his features.

  Lust etched deep lines around his brows and lips, and the tick in his jaw line showed he was fighting it. “I was dancing with her because I—so I could forget you. That may make me a dick and I'll wholeheartedly accept that.”

  He cupped her chin and lifted it up so there was nowhere but his gaze to look. “But while I was dancing with her she smelled wrong, felt wrong. All I could think about was you. How your hands aren't smooth. How you use that mouth to tell me to fuck off in a nice way, but I wanted yours more than I could ever want hers. I shouldn't touch you. I damn sure shouldn't be out here wanting to push you against this wall and lose myself inside you. But I saw you leave the bar and the only thing I could do was follow.”

  Her heart twisted at his words. She should have been turned off. Shouldn't have felt some kind of relief at what he said. He felt just as conflicted about his feelings for her as she did for him. So how could she not melt at the relief? It had to take a lot of…well, a lot of whiskey for him to admit that he wanted her with such an intensity. And to be honest about his reasons for dancing with that other woman. She swallowed, still fighting the inevitable draw to him. It was too dark, they were too alone and none of their usual inhibitions were anywhere in sight.

  “What a way to compliment a girl.”

  “Yeah.” He laughed, his gaze sliding down to her breasts and the heat slid in his eyes. “Give me that mouth. I need your lips on mine or I won't shut up. Whatever I say tonight will embarrass the shit out of me tomorrow.”

  She curled her fingers in his shirt. “I'm going to regret telling you about my ex.”

  His frown deepened. “But you didn't tell me.”

  “If you were listening, you heard all about him.” She yanked him a little closer and slanted her mouth over his.

  She wanted to blame the shots of liquor for the way her head spun, but it wasn't that. It was Dane. His taste reminded her of every forbidden thought she'd had about him since they met. Dangerous, heady, and a simple treat to just indulge. Her head continued to spin and an undeniable warmth started at her mouth and drifted down.

  She could write off one kiss as a mistake, a moment where she lost her head. Two had an intent, a promise for more. A need for it. For him.

  Brooke dragged him closer, and she was the one to make the angry, frustrated noises each time his tongue feathered along her mouth.

  He broke the kiss, his mouth searching until he sucked hard on her neck. She clung to him, but that frustration built in her chest. What she wanted was his skin on hers.

  When he licked at the sting of his bites, her knees weakened, but she untangled her fingers from his shirt. He'd sucked, nipped and licked his way across her collarbone. The only logical thing was to put her hands beneath his shirt and caress him. His stomach was ridged but the skin was smooth.

  “Don't,” he murmured against her skin. “I can barely keep it together from licking you.”

  Why would she listen? She wanted to witness Dane mussed, ruffled, and barely recognizable to the man who made her teeth clench together in anger.

  She scraped her nails over his stomach. Pleasure filled her when he groaned, but in the next breath, he had her hands clasped above her head. His jacket fell from her shoulders. He pushed her against the wall, sliding his leg between hers.

  His gaze was so dark when he looked at her. “Fucking stubborn,” he growled.

  Lust and liquor made her reflexes slow, but she couldn't lie and say him holding her captive d
idn't have some appeal. It made her so wet, and she never wanted to admit that out loud.

  She told him the truth. “If you want docile then go back inside.”

  He didn't break the eye contact. “I'm right where I want to be.” He slipped a finger beneath the v-neck of her dress and dragged the material over until her right breast was exposed. He did the same with the left. “Beautiful and happy to see me as always.”

  She gasped. He chuckled before he dipped his head and then he flicked his tongue over her left breast. The moisture from his mouth cooled in the breeze. Between the constant change of warmth and cool, her nipples ached. Her sex throbbed. His hand tightened on her wrists as she moaned, lost in the sensation of his mouth. She fisted her hands because it wasn't enough for him to touch her.

  “I want more,” Dane said, lifting his head so they were eye to eye.

  Yes. No. Yes. Please. “More?”

  “Here. Now. Pill?”

  “No. Condom?”

  “No.” His reply sounded like a curse.

  He licked and nipped up to her ear, his breathing heavy. “You won't let me touch you like this tomorrow, and I won't let myself need you like this.”

  “Because it's insane.”

  “Maybe.” He rested his head on hers, his eyes closed. “Let me taste you. We can't fight a memory like that.”

  It wasn't lost on her how hungry he sounded, and what he said wasn't even a question. “Dane,” she murmured, breathless.

  He kissed the side of her mouth. “Taste you.”

  He lifted her chin and kissed along her neck, across both breasts and lower. The heat of his mouth lingered wherever he kissed as he trailed down, caressing her through the thin material of her dress.

  He'd long since let go of her hands, and she was grateful for the freedom to touch him. She cupped one hand on the back of his head as he lifted her dress, murmuring something, but she couldn't hear the words because his mouth was on her skin now. Beneath her dress.

  He gripped one leg and threw it over his shoulder. She had to press her back against the wall to keep herself upright. He tasted her right through her panties. She couldn't tell who made the louder groan. And he was right. Even with the haze of liquor she wouldn’t forget this. Dane on his knees in the dark parking lot suckling her through her lace panties. Dane hooking his finger at the edge of the material and pushing them to the side. That hot mouth of his, that tongue of his searching for her clit, and when he found it, he suckled her there too.

  The music and fun may have been loud in the bar, but the quiet felt stark in the shadows with him. Her moans were so loud. His hard sucks reverberated right up her spine.

  Him on his knees, her legs open wide for his mouth—this wasn't pristine. It bordered on dirty, and Dane hadn't hesitated. She'd suspected but...no. She wouldn't forget how he used his middle finger to obliterate any preppy image of him. His tongue flicked, teased, caressed her clit.

  “Dane.” Her voice was tight and low. “Dane.”

  He stiffened his tongue and her brain quit working. That was fine. The heat prickling over her skin required all her attention. That delicious pull in her stomach just needed to be felt, not questioned or inspected. The orgasm built until she couldn’t fight it. Her pelvis jutted forward, closer to his tongue and finger as a wave of pleasure crashed over her. She shuddered, losing her breath. Her legs trembled even as the hold of the climax loosened, leaving her panting and bleary-eyed.

  Dane caressed her as he rose, fixing her panties and then the top of the dress. She expected a kiss, as though he could prove she liked her own taste.

  Instead, he whispered in her ear, “Something we won't forget.” His laugh was husky and she shivered. “I know your taste now and you'll want me to do it again.”

  She hesitated but let her fingers snake back under his shirt. He was warm and close to her. Tonight, they were taking away excuses, but the obvious one stared back at her. “We're drunk, Dane.”

  He weaved a little, a goofy grin on his face. “I suspect so.”

  She laughed, raising her hands until the tips of her fingers brushed his nipples. They immediately hardened at her teasing. “How much do you think we're going to hate each other in the morning?”

  “I've never hated you.” He pulled back, his frown deep.

  Her heart skipped. He hadn't? “But?”

  “You'll be more determined to get me to apologize. I would if I were wrong. Nothing and everything has changed.”

  She'd known that was the answer. Didn't make her hate it any less. “Yeah.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  Since Dane had a perfect view of City Hall and Tanner Creek from his home, he faced the window, grateful for the warmth and the fact the light had stopped stabbing his eyes.

  Ever since he'd rolled over to find himself not alone in his bed, he'd tried to find a semblance of normality. He'd gotten up, pulled the dark curtains open, made coffee as usual and then sat down in the plush chair to drink his coffee while he waited. Though the throbbing in his head hadn’t died down until after a gallon of water and a greasy breakfast.

  And just as he predicted, Dane had awaken with plenty of regrets about the night before. He glanced toward his bed, shook his head, and stared out the window again. Relaxing was out.

  His phone buzzed in his pocket. A quick check before he stuffed it back into his pocket.

  Tate had sent one word: Bwahahahahaha!

  Pretty much the same gist as Reid's text an hour ago, the one that had jolted him up from the bed.

  Dane wished he could say part of the night was blocked from his memory. He remembered every single lust and liquor soaked memory. Something all their friends had witnessed..

  Brooke groaned, grabbed a pillow and threw it over her face. “I'm in your bed.”

  He took a sip of his coffee. “Naked in my bed, but your virtue's still intact. In case you don't remember.”

  “Even if I didn't, I'd feel like I had sex recently. I don't.” She paused, still talking to him beneath the pillow. “What do you remember?”

  “After I had a taste of you...” He watched to see if she'd react to that. She shifted her legs beneath the covers and moaned. He smiled. “We went back inside The Grog, danced, had a few more drinks. When the night wound down, our friends repeatedly asked if we were sure that taking you home was a sound idea.”

  “They should have ignored us and that dumb-ass, difficult-word sobriety test we did.” She laughed, though. “What was the word we had to say to prove we weren't drunk?”

  “Facilities,” he said, shaking his head. “We couldn't say it. They dropped us off here anyway.”

  She threw her arms over the pillow and pressed it closer to her face. She was probably trying to suffocate herself while trying to remember the rest of the night. “For some reason, we ate in your kitchen in our underwear.”

  “We were making out, almost to the finish line and you said you were hungry. We ate leftover spaghetti I made that afternoon.”

  After that he'd taken her upstairs where they kissed for a long time—without clothes. At some point they took a rest because the world was spinning too much. They transitioned into taking turns drinking water out of the bathroom sink, laughing about that too, and then passing out in his bed.

  All night, they'd been vulnerable and open and none of their differences mattered. In the light of day, he was halfway across the room from her and she wasn't ready to come out of hiding from beneath his pillow.

  He regretted them having to be drunk to be that way with each other. She wanted an apology. For him to bend and be something she could dictate—mold as she saw fit. He could say he made vows to never touch her again, but he'd brushed his teeth, eaten, and was drinking coffee. He could still taste her.

  He'd been right last night. His need for her dug under his skin and made his spine stiff. He wanted to climb into his bed with her.

  “You're so quiet,” she said.

  “You're under a pillow.”

&nbs
p; “My eyeballs might catch on fire. You have the windows open.” She twisted in the covers and let out a breathy sigh.

  The walls closed in on him. He may have been across the room but it wasn't far enough. If he got into bed with her, he'd forget why he shouldn't have. Last night hadn't changed a thing. She might have been laughing at the moment, but the suspicion would come back with the bite in her voice and they would be back at square one. In spite of that, her taste would continue to haunt him.

  “Get yourself together. I'll feed you, walk you home.” He paused. “Get you some aspirin.”

  “And?”

  He set his cup of coffee on the nearby side table. “Do you still want me to apologize for what I said a year ago?”

  “Yes,” she said and then sighed again. “No.”

  His head jerked back from the shock of the answer. “Okay.”

  “I want you to tell me about your ex. You started to last night and then we got distracted.”

  An apology thrown by the wayside to learn about his ex...an intriguing request. But he'd talked about Tatiana? Dane scrounged in his memory for that. He lifted his brows.

  She'd asked him before he fed her. She had been surprised he knew how to cook beyond warming up takeout, and high-end takeout, at that.

  “Tatiana was high maintenance. Ambitious. She had tunnel vision. I was part of her five-year plan. I came from a good family. I looked good on paper. She had to live in a way that would look great to her CEO. Not entirely her fault. Women have it harder in the corporate world.”

  Brooke peeked out. Her hair was a mess, but she still looked tantalizing with her sleep-swollen lips. “Because when she does marry, the CEOs start thinking she’ll have babies and lose her head.” She narrowed her gaze on Dane as though looking at him with an intense stare would tell her where he stood on that issue.

  He tried to run through what she'd muttered before he licked her. He couldn't put the picture together from what she told him, so he thought about the woman she was. Independent, would likely yell at him if he asked her to cook dinner or clean. Prickly as hell but polite. After her choice in liquor last night, he could guess she came from money. Dane couldn't even begin to imagine why his words would make her look at him like that.