Unravel Me Read online

  “I don’t intend to.” She pushed the plate aside casually. “You don’t need to know mine; I don’t need to know yours.”

  Oh, holy hell. If she had any idea how incredibly hot that was, or just how it made his already at-attention cock harden further, she’d run before he could get his hands on her. No commitments, no promises he had no intention of keeping. Just raw, carnal pleasure. No prettiness about it.

  Yeah. He was swimming in dangerous waters. He couldn’t remember ever being this turned on. But damn, it made the prospect of tangling the sheets with her that much more enticing.

  A perfect arrangement. One his cock was more than eager to satisfy. He fought a grimace as he shifted his weight to his opposite hip. “I can play by those rules. Have any more I need to know about?”

  “Nope,” she answered simply. Her grin appeared with her next blink, and she dropped her hand to his knee. Slender fingers traversed his inseam to the base of his thigh. Her voice lowered intimately. “But I have an offer to propose, counselor.”

  “Oh?” The fantastically erotic husky way she addressed him had heat barreling through his veins.

  “In exchange for anonymity, there are no masks behind closed doors.”

  No masks… It took a moment, but the blatant suggestion that brimmed in her eyes settled around him fully. No boundaries. No need to keep up appropriate facades. No expectations on behaviors.

  Sweet angels above, he’d died and gone to heaven. It was like she’d ripped a page right out of his personal book of fantasies. One night where he could let down everything. Sure, he’d had more than his fair share of memorable sex. But there were…rules of engagement. Certain delicacies that most women expected.

  Yet this one, this strange combination of confidence and hesitation, didn’t want any of those expectations. She’d just given him a blank check and demanded he take it to the bank.

  He dropped his hand to her wandering fingers, catching them a hairsbreadth from the swollen length of his cock. Bending his head toward hers, he brushed his lips across her cheek and whispered, “My hotel’s fifteen minutes away. I’ll call a cab.”

  Her fingers laced with his. She turned her face to his, her mouth a breath away. God, how he wanted to taste her.

  “I have a car. My house is closer.”

  When he quirked an eyebrow, surprised by the invitation into her home, she pulled away with a light laugh. “And I have neighbors who will come to my rescue if I scream.”

  Ah. Okay then. Brad grinned. The faster he could get his hands on her, the better.

  Forcing himself to not leap to his feet, he slid out of his seat and motioned for the bartender. His heart beat a strangely uneven cadence as she rose and slid into her coat. He hadn’t been this keyed up since high school. But between the two martinis, the restaurant’s intimate atmosphere, and that damned jasmine perfume, all he could think about was sliding his hands over those never-ending legs and sampling those bare breasts with his mouth.

  The bartender brought him his credit slips, and Brad quickly signed his name on one. The other he stuffed into his wallet. Fastening her hand in his, he escorted her from the bar toward the front door.

  He had just cracked it open when the hostess called out, “Oh, wait!”

  Biting back a mutter, Brad glanced over his shoulder to find the young woman hustling after them, a long-stemmed red rose in her hand. “You forgot this. It’s complimentary for our guests tonight.”

  Brad glanced at the rose, hesitating for a moment before he accepted the blood-red bud. In thirty-five years, he had never once given a woman flowers, except his mother. Come to think of it, he’d made it a point to never put himself in a place where he’d had to acknowledge the holidays. He was devoutly single. Work demanded too much of his time, and frankly, he’d never really found domestic life appealing.

  His date’s attention drifted to the flower. What the hell—there were always firsts. He passed the rose to his companion without production. One rose couldn’t harm much, considering he didn’t even know her name. It was about as romantic as those corny hearts drizzled across their dessert.

  Her smile as she accepted the rose, however, nearly knocked him to his knees. His gut cinched, and his breath lodged like someone had wrapped steel bands around his ribs.

  In that moment, he would have sold his soul for the price of her name.

  Chapter Three

  As Cassie hit the remote to unlock her Cherokee and reached for the door, strong masculine fingers wrapped around her wrist. A gentle pull drew her to a halt, and she slowly turned to face her companion. His step forward forced her to take a step back. His body followed hers, and he braced one arm on the doorframe, caging her between hard planes of muscle and the cold unyielding steel of her vehicle. His body hovered near hers, his expensive suit pants barely brushing her knee. But oh how she felt his heat. It radiated into her, calling to her hands, begging her fingers to slide around his neck and draw him closer.

  His darkly sensual expression sent chills rushing down to her toes. He bent closer, whispering his lips across her temple. “I’ll drive.”

  Her breath caught audibly. Drawn to the temptation of his mouth, her chin tipped up. Her lips parted of their own accord. A bit of logic filtered through the sudden haze of sexual awareness that clouded the rest of her thoughts. “You don’t know where you’re going.”

  Somehow, he’d wrestled the keys from her grip. They jangled in the quiet as he lifted his hand and drew the key fob slowly down her neckline, between the upper valley of her breasts. His voice was hoarse as he murmured, “I like to drive, sweetheart.” Taunting her with an undefined promise, he grazed his lips closer to her ear.

  Part of her objected to that remark. But a deeper, untapped portion of her buried spirit surged past barriers she’d erected too many years ago. That neglected fragment latched on, creating vivid, erotic images of the many alternate meanings his simple comment could hold.

  She pressed her hand to the sexy stranger’s chest to keep her knees from buckling. Her body swayed into his, but as if he had anticipated her weakening, he edged ever-so-slightly away, denying the satisfaction of contact. Her nails curled; his linen shirt bunched into her palm.

  He feathered his lips across hers, then with a maddeningly wicked grin, stepped back. “Let’s go.”

  Struggling to swallow, Cassie managed a short nod. As she turned, his palm connected with her bottom. The playful swat could hardly be called more than a pat, but heat spread slowly through her veins. She refused to rub the offended spot and hurried around the fender to climb into her side of the car.

  He’d already started the engine when she slid inside the Jeep. She laid her flower on the dash. “Take a left out of the lot, then a right six blocks down. Up the hill, second house on the right.”

  He nodded and backed out of the lot. Turning onto the main street, his hand fell to her thigh. His fingers crept beneath the hem of her short dress. The contact was too much for her over-sensitized brain, and she clapped her hand on top of his.

  He drew his hand back. “Everything okay?”

  “Yes.” Nothing was wrong. But if those fingertips glided any higher, she’d crumble apart. All she wanted to do was part her knees, lean back, and let him ease the ache between her legs. And while she was more than willing to go through with this, she didn’t want him to know just how easily he affected her. A tiny bit of wonder might do him good.

  He kept his gaze on the road, turning at the stoplight. But his continued silence as they climbed the tree-laden hill, warned her she needed to do something quick, if she intended to convince him she was really okay with their agreement. Yet what could she say? Sorry, you just overwhelm me? Not hardly.

  He glanced her way. “It’s okay to change your mind. I’m not going to go all psychotic on you. I’ll turn around and we can go our separate ways. No hard feelings, no objections.”

  Cassie reached for his hand. “I’m all right. I promise.” To emphasize her words,
she pressed his palm to her thigh once more.

  He blew out a tight breath then flashed a dimpled grin. “Is this permission?”

  The laughter in his voice left her grinning in return. She nodded. “Indulge as you wish.”

  “Believe me, I intend to.” His fingers nudged the sheer fabric out of his way as they climbed higher. Slowly, maddeningly, he scalded a path to the crease of her hip.

  Oh, sweet, sweet heaven. Everything inside her began to tingle. She bit down on her lower lip to silence a bubbling moan and closed her eyes.

  And then he stopped. Not dipping down to glide beneath the edge of her panties and stroke her damp flesh. Not trailing back to her knee. He merely drew his finger back and forth through the crease where her leg bent. Goading her. Teasing until it became a physical impossibility to sit still.

  With a frustrated whimper, Cassie shifted in the seat.

  For a moment, she questioned her sanity. This man knew his way around women. Obviously understood the art of pleasure. And there was no doubting that he intended to maintain the upper hand. She’d wanted a bit of dominance. Wanted to stop thinking when it came to sex and let a man hold the reins.

  But now that she was getting a taste of what it felt like to lose her control, she wasn’t entirely certain the experience wouldn’t have ever-lasting effects. Ten minutes alone with him, and he already had her wanting to beg for more.

  …

  Brad nosed into her driveway, cut the engine, and passed her the keys. He waited for her to exit the Cherokee first. When her door shut, he drew in a very necessary deep breath. If he didn’t watch himself, he’d spiral into reckless abandon. And frankly, though they’d part as strangers, he wanted her to remember tonight. To remember him.

  But she was so damned alluring she made focusing on keeping his libido in check almost impossible. He just wanted to sink home and forget himself for a while.

  When she set a foot on the bottom step of her lighted front porch and glanced back at the car, Brad stepped outside. The cold February air washed across his face, helping to temper the heat in his bloodstream. He took a moment to breathe and found himself confronted by her house. Brad blinked. The stone façade blended into thick trees, disguising its immense size. Two stories, and easily a good 6,000 square feet judging from the lights he could see deeper in the snow-tipped branches. Tall picture windows overlooked the sleepy street, the warm inviting light within adding ambience to what was already a picturesque getaway. This virtual mansion put his 18th story, Manhattan apartment to shame.

  His gaze crept back to where the owner stood, seeing her in a new light. She might just be the only woman he’d ever slept with who couldn’t benefit from his money. But how had she managed to afford this hulking monstrosity? His paycheck was no small beans, but she had to be bringing in an easy million a year to afford this luxury.

  “This is gorgeous,” he murmured as he joined her on the front porch step.

  She chuckled and shrugged delicate shoulders. “Thanks.” Her keys jangled as she slid them into the lock. “It helps to have in-laws that are builders.”

  “In-laws?” He frowned. This ended here and now if she was married. His mom had stepped-out on his dad, and he would have nothing to do with cheating.

  A faint, far-away expression touched her pretty, chestnut eyes before she put her shoulder against the door and opened it. “My husband died three years ago. Skiing accident.”

  “Oh.” The minute the word left his mouth, he mentally kicked himself. So not the appropriate response. “I’m sorry.” Damn it. Bringing up dead husbands was a sure-fire way to put a damper on desire. From the look on her face as she dropped the rose into an empty vase on the nearby table, she didn’t care for the subject either.

  Brad stepped inside and shut the door, no longer interested in inspecting the fantastic architecture. He caught her by the hand, tugged her around to face him. Setting two fingers under her chin, he tipped her face to his. “Are you absolutely sure you’re okay with this?”

  “Yeah.” Her smile struggled but finally broke free. “More than okay.”

  Thank the saints above. He’d never forgive himself if he ruined this now. The car had been awkward enough and already had him second-guessing for a moment. Presently, he intended to make damn sure that deceased husband was the last thing on her mind. Sliding one hand to the slope of her hip, he stepped in closer. “I’m dying to kiss you,” he murmured.

  Her voice lowered to a whisper. “I wish you would.”

  Brad swept his thumb across her lower lip, aching to feel that softness beneath his mouth. But before he gave in to the temptation, he wanted her like she was in the car—a heartbeat away from asking for his touch and squirming for relief. “You’ll have to wait a little longer.” He curled his fingers at her waist, drawing her dress into his hands, easing it up her amazing thighs. “Let me know when you can’t take it anymore.”

  A shiver rolled through her body. Long lashes dusted her cheekbones as she closed her eyes and nodded. If he thought he could pull himself back once he gave in and sampled her sweet flavor, he’d kiss her right now when she least expected it and put an end to his own torture. But a nagging voice in the back of his mind warned once he went down that path, once he made intimate contact, he’d tailspin out of control.

  Instead, he leaned away from her graceful curves and focused on gathering her dress into his hands. He exposed her shapely legs inch-by-inch, mesmerized by her smooth, olive-toned skin. When he uncovered black lace panties, his gut hollowed out. He didn’t need to touch to know she was completely shaved beneath. And that flimsy scrap of lace did nothing to hide the evidence of her arousal that glistened at the inlet of her thighs.

  Gritting his teeth against the straining of his cock, he roughly instructed, “Raise your arms.”

  She complied without hesitation, and he jerked the dress over her head. It tumbled out of his hands to land at his feet. Brad stared, momentarily incapable of thought. She stood before him wearing black stilettos, matching panties, and nothing else. Her breasts were only large enough to fit his palm, but they were pert and full. Rosy nipples stood at attention, hard little buds he couldn’t wait to feel against his tongue.

  And he had no intention of waiting.

  As thought slowly returned, he bent and drew one into his mouth. Her back arched, and she let out a moan that threatened to undo him. Closing his eyes, he swirled the nub around his tongue, suckled just enough to bring her forward onto her toes. When her fingers latched onto his shoulders and her nails pricked through his shirt, he couldn’t contain a satisfied groan.

  That’s it, baby. Let me take you there.

  He fitted his hand at the small of her back and held her steady, taking time with her breast, leading her into the fire that scorched through his bloodstream. He wanted her to fall apart in his hands. But the sexy little sounds that rumbled in her throat were picking away at his resolve. Before they could burrow beneath his skin and do damage, he let her nipple slide off his lips.

  Straightening, he exchanged his mouth for his hand and cupped the weighty softness of her breast. Her eyelashes lifted. Wide, wondrous eyes held his. Eyes a man could get lost in if he looked too long.

  Brad nuzzled the side of her neck. Ran his tongue over the bounding vein alongside her throat. She shuddered, and her head tipped backward, spilling her glorious hair over his fingers at the small of her back. He slid his hand up her spine and through those long silken lengths. Tilting her head to the side, he grazed his teeth across her dainty earlobe. “I bet you taste like chocolate,” he whispered.

  Her quiet whimper tightened his body into hewn steel.

  “Sweet like the wine tonight.” He took her nipple between thumb and forefinger and gave it a slight twist. The gasp she let out ricocheted through him. To hell with waiting—if she wasn’t going to ask, he’d take matters into his own hands. He tugged on her hair, tipped her face to his. “Kiss me, sweetheart.”

  The feathery brush o
f her lips snapped through him like a live current. He willed himself to remain still, waited for the parting of her lips, the hesitant stroke of her tongue. It was everything he could do to not crumple her close and savage that pretty mouth, though God knew he wanted to. He counted backward from ten, then twenty, giving her time to get comfortable with him. Then, he surrendered to the wild need that gnawed at his gut. Wrapping an arm around her waist, he dragged her body flush with his and took control of the kiss.

  Her hands skimmed up his chest and her nails scraped his scalp. A throaty groan rumbled between them, but Brad didn’t know who made the sound. He dropped his hand to her bottom, squeezing as his hips thrust forward. She ground against his swollen cock. A shock of ecstasy surged down his spine.

  Fuck—he was in trouble. He’d known he would be, but he hadn’t anticipated anything quite like this. Hadn’t expected that one kiss would leave him wanting to shove her against the wall, wrap her ankles around his waist, and sink inside her with abandon. Hell, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d experienced true abandon. His past relationships were too mired in conflicting needs and desires. But this woman…good God, he’d never encountered a connection like this.

  Brad tore his mouth from hers in desperate need of a measure of distance.

  “Tell me,” she managed between gasps.

  He chuckled. “Sweetheart, you’re doing everything just right.”

  “No.” She shook her head, her voice clearer. “Tell me.”

  Oh, holy crap—he couldn’t possibly be interpreting that correctly. Not that he had any objections. Truth to tell, the last woman who had satisfied his darker need of domination had been in college. He just wasn’t entirely certain this woman, this successful woman who knew how to take care of herself, really knew what she was asking. Likely this was some temporary fascination that she’d run from once it became uncomfortable.

  There was only one way to find out—test the water with something relatively non-threatening. He trailed a fingertip down her breast and flicked her nipple with his thumb. Inclining his head toward the wide window behind them, he suggested, “Let’s move this somewhere else, first.”