Last Resort: S.I.N. Series Page 9
“I can’t sleep with my boss. With you.”
“We wouldn’t exactly be sleeping, Sutton.”
“Then I can’t fuck my boss. Is that better?”
He groans, the sound of it rumbling through the room. “Do you know how much it turns me on when you talk like that?”
When he dips down and brushes his lips over mine, I don’t resist. Can’t. Isn’t this what I’ve been thinking about since that morning? Kissing him again? Tasting him again?
His tongue delves between my lips. He tastes like the whiskey he was just drinking and the man I’ve been craving.
My hands tense on the edge of the granite as he shifts the angle of the kiss and tries to coax more from me.
It feels so good it hurts in all the best ways possible. And just as I’m about to sink farther into the kiss, into him, my mind has a moment of clarity amid my body’s betrayal of it.
“I can’t.” I move my head to the side and sit my butt on the table, scooting it back to gain some space. “I’m sorry. I promised myself this wouldn’t happen. That I couldn’t let it happen.”
He scrubs a hand over his jaw, his amber eyes firing with desire. “Why not?” He runs one finger over the top of my thigh, his voice a low tenor. “It’s hard to resist something when you want it so badly.” This time he places both hands on the tops of my thighs and rubs his thumbs beneath my shorts. They rub back and forth so they just brush over the seam between my thighs. A soft moan falls from my lips in reflex. He watches me with every movement of his fingertips, and I fight to keep a stoic expression, but my pussy clenches at his touch, the ache it causes is so damn sweet. “And we both know you want it badly. You want me badly.”
“Arrogant fuck,” I mutter as I steel myself for another pass of his thumbs.
“Yes. Please.” He chuckles.
“Callahan. I can’t.”
“For a woman who doesn’t want this, why are you pushing that sweet cunt of yours into my hand?” he taunts before leaning in and taking my bottom lip between his teeth and tugging ever so gently.
“I think this is the very definition of sexual harassment,” I murmur as his thumb actually slides between my sex this time, finding the wetness of arousal there, before running back up and circling over my clit.
My body disobeys. It’s ruled by his touch and not by the rationale in my head that seems to get foggier and foggier with each passing second.
“No. Me grabbing you and fucking you up against the wall like I desperately want to would be the definition of sexual harassment. This?” He groans the next four words out. “This is goddamn perfection.”
“I thought I was just a one-night stand,” I murmur. His cock hits my leg and I’m reminded just how hard and sizeable he is.
“Things change.”
My breath hitches as his thumb presses just at my opening, my muscles tightening around him as if I’m desperate for his touch. He chuckles when he feels the involuntary response.
“Fuck me, Collins.” He pushes his thumb deeper into me, and I fight having any kind of reaction with everything I have to try not to moan out in pleasure, because this isn’t what’s supposed to happen. I’m not supposed to give in to this. At least not without a better fight. His eyes meet mine again. “That wasn’t a request.”
“You’re assuming I want you again.”
“I don’t have to assume anything, Collins. You know you walked into that conference room the other day with a sore pussy and sat there with soaked panties as you wondered which one of us fucked you, because all you could think about was me doing it again.” I cry out as he shifts so that he can tuck two fingers in me with one hand while unzipping his slacks with the other. My hands are still braced on the edge of the table, the only parts of our bodies that touch are where his fingers are.
I struggle to keep my wits and not be pulled under by the pleasure. For my mouth to not water at the sight of his beautiful cock ready and waiting to pleasure me.
But his arrogance taunts me. His assumption that he can enter my villa and I’d give him what he wants without question irritates me.
I need to regain my footing.
I choose to play with fire.
“I was certain it was Ledger.” I pant the words out and then gasp when his fingers stop moving.
“What did you just say?”
“He seemed in control. Calculated. Dominant. If I had to guess,” I lie, “I would have figured Ledger was the one.”
Callahan stares at me, jaw tense and neck muscles taut, and emits a primal growl I don’t even pretend to understand. He takes the hand off his cock, fists it in the back of my hair, and kisses me with a violent intensity that leaves me breathless.
And then he holds my head still as he looks at me, his fingers beginning to move and push and tease my nerves within me again.
“Rest assured, you’ll know who exactly it was—who it is—the next time you’re in a room with me and my brothers. Make no doubt, Collins.”
“That remains to be seen,” I taunt.
“Goddamn it,” Callahan mutters as he works me into a frenzy. Sensations race through me.
One after another.
After another.
They chase the high until it slams into me with brute force. My toes tingle and my chest heaves as the aftereffects of pleasure wreak havoc on my body.
“Tell me I can fuck you,” he grits out.
Do I really want to deny myself this? Deny myself him?
I can’t think clearly with him in my space, with the post-orgasmic haze still wreaking havoc on my body, but I know I have something he wants.
And I know for the first time, I’m in a position of power.
“What’s in it for me?”
“What’s in it for you?” he asks as he releases the hold on my hair, takes a step back, and studies me as if he’s confused by the question.
I bite my bottom lip and nod. “Hmm-mmm.”
“Incredible sex,” he says with a nonchalant shrug and stroke of his cock as if that’s all I need to hear.
“That’s not enough,” I say as his eyes narrow. Clearly he has always been enough for anyone. “If I’m risking my job, there sure as hell better be something in this for me.”
“You get this.” He points to his cock and then where my sleep shorts have a wet stain on them. “Orgasms upon orgasms and sex with me.”
“Like I said, that’s not enough.”
“What do you mean that’s not enough?”
“What I said. You get caught with an employee, and you’re still a Sharpe with a bank account you’ll never be able to empty in your lifetime. If I get caught, I lose my job, my possible promotion, and given I’m counting on those things to help me pay for a place to live when I get back, I’m taking all the risks by sleeping with my boss. You’re not.”
“So what do you want? A job reference in case it happens? A guarantee that nothing’s going to happen?” He looks so confused and it would be adorable if he wasn’t standing there with his cock hard as a rock. “I’m not in the habit of giving things to get things.”
“Clearly.” My chuckle is low and throaty as I scoot off the counter and step toward him. He sucks in a breath when he thinks I’m going to kiss him, and much like he did, I move toward his ear and whisper, “For the record, I’ll be offended if you think this is about money or advancement within your company. I want neither.” But I do want my pride. And I refuse to be available at his bidding. Powerless.
“Then, what . . .” he says as I take a few steps toward my bedroom. “Where are you going?”
I turn and smile at him. “Giving you time to figure out the right answer, Callahan.” I smirk, my body still tingling from my climax as I glance down to his cock and then back up to his eyes. “Goodnight, boss.”
“Wait. What?” He looks horrified.
“The water seemed pretty cold in the shower,” I say.
This time when I turn my back on him, I make sure to add an extra swing to my hips before I enter my room and lock the door behind me.
I don’t think Callahan Sharpe has ever had to work hard to get a woman. He said as much that first night.
If I’m worth it to him, then he’ll figure it out.
And hearing him grit out a grated Fuck on the other side of the door is all the affirmation I need. I never would have stood up to Clint like I just did to Callahan. I like this new, stronger me.
I collapse on my bed with a victorious grin on my lips and anticipation humming through my blood.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Sutton
Coffee.
That’s my first thought when I stumble out of bed.
Callahan.
He’s my second.
Last night was . . . frustrating, sexy, unexpected . . . empowering. Sure, I stuck to my word and held tight to it, but my dreams let me know exactly what I was missing by walking away. Boy, did they.
And now I must get coffee before I head out to the office they’ve assigned me and “officially” start my time here at Ocean’s Edge.
The question is, what is the right answer?
What is it that Callahan can offer me that will be enough for me to risk everything I have going for me?
Or maybe it’s more an exercise for him to think more of me than the one-night stand girl. We will be working with each other after all, and I need him to respect me and think of me as an equal. You can’t exactly do that when the first time you meet, you drop your skirt without a second thought and then cave again soon after that.
I’m not an idiot in thinking our time spent will be anything more than wild monkey sex as Lizzy called it, but if he has to earn it, then maybe he’ll be less likely to be careless about keeping what’s happening a secret.
Bec
ause it does have to remain a secret or Roz would have me out on my ass in seconds for risking any future work with Sharpe International.
Roz.
Jesus.
She’d kill me for any and all of this. What happened to me? Why am I even risking this for sex?
I guess I’ll have time to figure out the answer to that while he figures out his answer to me.
Besides, it might be fun in the meantime. A little flirting. A lot of wanting and not getting. Hell, we jumped right to the endgame. Maybe a little cat and mouse will be good for a bit.
Will wanting and not having be hard? Hell, yes.
But I also think it’ll be worth it.
How will Callahan be toward me today after I threw him for a loop and literally left him hanging last night? I bet that’s never happened before.
Even worse, how hard will it be for me to concentrate with him near?
I rub the sleep from my eyes as I shuffle out of the bedroom and then jolt to a stop when I hear the sound of a spoon stirring against the ceramic of a coffee cup.
And there, in the kitchen of my villa, is Callahan. With nothing on but a pair of workout shorts and running shoes. His hair is wet with waves of it going every which way, and the muscles in his back ripple as he doctors the cup of coffee in front of him.
“Um . . . What are you still doing here?”
Unfazed by the sound of my voice, Callahan watches the creamer as he pours it into his cup. “Making coffee. There’s more than enough left in the pot if you want some,” he says as casual as can be.
“That’s not what I asked.”
Callahan turns and looks at me for the first time. Jesus. Seriously? After a long, restless night of no sleep, thinking about him, this is how he greets me?
His cheeks are flushed from what I assume was a run or some other form of exercise. And that assumption is based off the V of sweat that darkens the front of his shorts. Said shorts that unknowingly might or might not currently be showcasing the ridge of the head of his cock.
“I’m sorry. I was distracted.” He flashes a grin that tells me he knows exactly what distracted me and it was on purpose. “What did you ask, Sutton?”
“This is my room. Villa. Whatever you want to call it.”
“That’s not a question.”
“Clearly.”
“And your point is what?” He leans against the counter behind him and takes a sip of his coffee. He hisses from its heat, but his eyes stay locked on mine above the rim of the cup.
“That you’re here. That you’re making coffee as if—”
“As if I own the place?” The grin he flashes is mischievous as all hell. “Well . . .”
“That’s not cool.”
“I thought it was pretty witty,” he says.
“No.”
“Then charming at least.”
I emit an exasperated sigh. First, I get domineering, sexy Callahan. Then I get brooding, I’m going to pretend I’m not Johnnie Walker, Callahan. And now I get playful, boyish Callahan. I don’t want him to be any of them because it’s damn attractive.
“Whether you own the place or not,” I try again, “that doesn’t give you the right to make yourself at home.”
He points to the second room in the villa. “Considering that’s my room, I’m supposed to be making myself at home.”
“Come again?”
A smile ghosts over his lips. “That’s the plan.”
“Answer my question,” I grit out, trying to ignore anything charming or seductive or sexy that he does or says.
“That’s my room.” A nonchalant shrug. “So that makes this our shared living space, and therefore I have every right to make myself at home, right?”
“No. It can’t be.”
“Pretty sure it is. Either that or someone’s going to get pissed that my clothes are in his or her closet.”
“No. Your stuff wasn’t in there last night.”
“You sure like that word a lot.”
“What word?” I ask, his change of topic throwing me.
“No.”
“No, I don’t.”
His grin widens. “You should learn to embrace the word yes more. Supposedly giving in to the pleasures saying yes helps you live a longer, happier life.”
“You think you’re cute, don’t you?”
“I know I am. Although I prefer words like sexy or handsome or devastating. I think those have more panache to them, don’t you?”
I stare at him and his devilish grin and his incredibly absurd abs and know he’s winning this round. Him and his ridiculous comments and sheepish smile.
“I think you need to explain why you’re staying in my villa.”
“The A/C in mine went out.”
“Open a window,” I say dryly.
“You were so preoccupied wanting me last night, that you assumed I was here for pleasure. Kind of like I was your fuck toy, although that term is offensive in so many ways, so let’s not use it.” He takes a sip of coffee, clearly pleased with the show he is putting on right now. “Oh, I forgot to ask you.”
“Ask me what?”
“How your regret tastes this morning.”
“My regret?” I laugh the word out. “What are you talking about?”
“The regret you felt after you walked away last night. The regret you felt as you lay in bed alone when I could have been occupying it with you.” He licks his bottom lip. “Especially when you know how good it can be.”
“It?”
“Yes. Sex.” His eyes fire with suggestion. He sets his coffee cup down and crosses his arms over his chest. Of course, my eyes drift to his biceps when they flex with the motion, but then his words hit my ears. “With me.”
He walks over to the coffee pot and pours some into a new mug before reaching out with it to me. I stare at the cup, clearly a peace offering that I one hundred percent don’t trust.
“It’s just coffee,” he says.
“It’s just coffee from you, though.”
He sets it on the counter beside me and then steps back, scrubbing a hand over his unshaven jaw. “Is this going to be a problem? Us working together when you want me so desperately?”
“I think you should ask yourself the same question.” I step into him so that when I breathe in, the tight buds of my nipples rub against his chest. “We’re going to be working beside each other, day in and day out, and now we’re going to be sharing the same living space.” I step back to allow enough space to trail my finger down the middle of his chest. His abs tense as he sucks in a breath. “Looks to me like you created the problem yourself, now didn’t you, Callahan?”
“You’ve given me an impossible question to answer.” He reaches out to grab my hip and I grab his wrist to stop him.
“Maybe you’re not used to having to work for anything worthwhile,” I murmur, our lips inches apart, our bodies physically vibrating with need and want. “Answer the question, and I’m yours.”
He groans as he overpowers my hold on his wrist and puts his hand on my ass, pulling me against him so I can feel every long, hard inch of him.
“You don’t want to play with this fire,” he whispers, the warmth of his breath on my lips.
“Maybe I look forward to being burned.”
His eyes hold mine. “That’s how you’re going to play this, huh? Tease my cock, test my restraint, and then not let me have you.”
“It’s here. It’s yours for the taking.” We breathe in sync as my words take hold. His eyes darken, his body tenses. “The question remains though. What’s in this for me?”
He takes my hand and places it over his cock I was just admiring through his shorts. “I think this is a pretty self-explanatory answer.”
The ache between my thighs comes to life (as if it ever really stopped) and the suggestion in his gaze alone has me remembering to breathe.
I jolt back a step, needing space from the man who clouds my senses and thoughts. I grab the cup of coffee and move to the counter. I add too much creamer. Then sugar when I already added sugar. Anything to occupy my hands from reaching out and touching him.
“It’s a dangerous game you’re playing here, Collins,” Callahan says with a tsk that is so dominant and sexy I can imagine him doing it in the bedroom.
“I have a feeling you’re used to playing games.”