Bet on Me (17 page)

He ought to have looked out of place in her world, this new, wealthy Wyatt. But he fit in perfectly, another mismatched piece in her mismatched life.

Mentally, Tatiana exhaled, a long sigh of relief. No need to fret, not right now. This felt….right.

He shifted, reached behind him and pulled out one of her throw pillows, this one shaped like a mushroom. After pondering it for a moment, he placed it aside. “You have an interesting place.”

She followed his gaze around her small, beloved apartment, wondering what he saw. Color, for sure. From her crimson couch to her purple armchair to her bright green bookcase and her red walls, she embraced color.

She liked what she liked, and oftentimes, none of what she liked complemented anything else. Some of her accents were whimsical and cheap, things that caught her eye at the flea market. Sprinkled amongst them was priceless art she purchased from galleries or, preferably, bartered from local artists she knew.

Some people would find her taste gaudy, or even nauseating. Curious, Wyatt took it all in. His sharp black eyes missed nothing as he catalogued every detail of the room before glancing back at her. “This suits you.”

She straightened and smiled. “Does it?”

“It does.” He scooted closer, tossing the mushroom pillow to the floor.

She made a mental note to tell him the cushion’s market value later. It might flabbergast him.

“I remember how annoyed you would get that your parents wouldn’t let you decorate your room as you wished. So the minute you got to college, you painted the walls of your dorm room yellow.”

The recollection of her hall director’s irritation made her nose wrinkle. “Ugh. They made me paint it back right away. Totally unfair, since I was the one who had to live with that ugly off-white for eight months.”

His mouth kicked up at the corner. “I’m sorry. Who had to slap on four coats of white to cover up that yellow?”

A rush of affection ran through her at the memory of young Wyatt.
Jesus, Tatiana. Couldn’t you express yourself with posters?
His frustration with her hadn’t stopped him from grabbing a paint roller. “You helped.”

“Helped?”

“Helped a lot,” she modified. She’d done some of the work. Or tried to. Painting a wall a boring color was, well…boring.

He pulled her wineglass from her fingers and placed it next to his on the table. Coming closer, he curled his hand around her neck. “I like your style.”

She was an experienced woman, hardly a shy virgin. Yet her stomach fluttered when he looked at her that way. “Thanks.”

“Mmm.” He leaned in closer until his breath fanned her lips. “Are you going to take me on a tour?”

“This isn’t your hotel, Wyatt. You don’t need a tour to navigate a space that’s eight hundred square feet.”

“I haven’t seen your bedroom.”

No, that was not a blush creeping up her cheeks! She was not a blusher. But she couldn’t help it. The way he said that word,
bedroom
, was criminal. “Maybe we can do the tour after dinner.”

His finger swept over the pulse beating in her neck. “Did you make plans for us tonight?”

A shiver ran down her spine at the intent in his gaze. The man had some plans in mind. Naked plans, probably. “There’s a great Thai place down the street. It doesn’t look like much, but they make an awesome panang curry.”

“Hmm.” He dropped his hand from her neck. She mourned its loss. His fingers worked his tie, until it hung in two strips. “I can get Thai in Vegas.”

“Jamaican?” Her breath caught when he loosened the top three buttons of his shirt, those long, elegant fingers nimble, revealing the tanned column of his throat.

“Same.”

“What can’t you get in Vegas?”

A slow smile crossed his lips, filled with enough wickedness that her tummy flip-flopped. “I know for a fact that you can get that all over Vegas. On every street corner, in fact,” she said archly.

He pulled the tie off and placed it between them. She stole a glance at it, imagining it wrapped around her wrists or her ankles. Totally an oversight, not dating more businessmen. They had kinky bindings with them at all times.

“Not with you.”

She swallowed, her throat dry. “I’ll give you that.”

Another button. “Will you give me
you
?”

Ah, fuck. There came that blush again. It was the novelty and excitement of the situation that was making her revert to a giddy schoolgirl. A new, tentative relationship with the guy she had loved long ago? Things were all shiny and sexy and fun. So the blush was justifiable, damn it.

As was her yearning. Oh, yeah, she’d love to lie down, spread her legs, and let Wyatt have his way. She knew it would be time well spent. The man had been good at fucking ten years ago. He was
great
at fucking now.

So. Much. Temptation. But she’d made a decision, and she’d stick with it. “I told you. Four dates. Four dates before we jump back in bed with each other.”

His lips twisted. “But this is date number
five
.”

“It’s two.”

Scowling now, he counted off on his fingers. “One, our first night together. Two, our date the next night. Three, I took you to that godforsaken magic show you mentioned you wanted to see. Four, I drove you to the airport. Five, tonight.”

Tatiana rolled her eyes. “First of all, you can’t ever count going to the airport as a date.”

“We grabbed coffee on the way.”

She ignored that. “In any case, I’m counting that whole trip to Vegas as one date. This is our second.”

His mouth dropped open. “Are you—? You have got to be kidding me. What, is this weekend going to be counted as one date?”

She pretended to think about it. Rules were highly entertaining when you made them up along the way. “Yes.”

“Tatiana.”

“Wyatt.”

“I’m a man of my word. I’d be happy to give you time. But what is the purpose of this arbitrary period of enforced celibacy again?” He spoke through gritted teeth.

“I don’t want lust to blind us.” My, that sounded appropriately dramatic and noble.

“Not fucking each other isn’t going to make us any less lustful. In fact, my lust is pretty much through the roof right now.”

She batted her eyes at him. “Is it?” Of course it was. After their first night together, the most they had engaged in was a few minutes of heated necking. Sexual tension was a living, breathing thing between them, always present.

He stopped and considered her. “You know, I’m not a sex machine. I’d have no problem with this absurd rule, if I didn’t know you’re only fucking around with me to see how much you can get away with.”

She placed her hand on her chest, gratified when his hot eyes darted right there. Her blue top was cut low to make the best of her cleavage. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Right. Don’t think I can’t tell a power play when I see it.”

It wasn’t a power play, per se. Part of her, the mischievous, impulsive side, just wanted to see how much she could tease them both before they exploded.

Wyatt may not be a sex machine, but she kind of was.

And because of her aforementioned love of sex, she’d ensured there was a safety valve built into this nonsense. Go four dates without jumping the man’s bones? Impossible. She lifted the tie and ran it through her fingers, testing its strength. “I think you’re forgetting something about my absurd rule.”

Instantly alert, he leaned forward. This was her comfy suede couch, her life, and still he managed to dominate it. “What’s that?”

“Our definition of sex.” She peered up at him from beneath her lashes. “Our adolescent definition.”

He paused for a moment, and then gave her a wry grin. “Of course. That leaves a lot on the table, doesn’t it?”

Their teen definition of sex had been about as loosey-goosey as some politicians. Vaginal penetration? Sex.

Everything else? Um. Not sex. Especially if they could do it in the backseat of his car.

“You tell me.” She let the tie slip out of her fingers.

His gaze was hot enough to singe. “You hungry?”

Only for you.
“No.” She sidled closer, dropped her hand on his chest. Like a heat-seeking missile, her fingers flew to his buttons, toying with them.

“You have no idea how much I’ve been tormenting myself with thoughts of your hands on me for the past week.”

No. She had an idea. At odd moments of the day, she’d stare off into space, unable to think of anything but his hands, mouth, and cock on her and in her. The daydreaming would have been annoying if it wasn’t so arousing. She hummed. “Poor baby. Were you getting pumped up? Thinking this was the fifth date?”

“Knowing it was the fifth date.”

She hid her smile and unbuttoned the crisp white shirt, excited to have him stretched out for her exploration. “Well. I’m happy for both of our sakes that I can still put my hands on you.”

When she was finished unbuttoning his shirt, she spread the halves wide, her toes curling at the sight of his strong, tanned chest. She scraped her fingers over his hard belly, loving the way the muscles contracted and tightened at her touch.

Broad shoulders, narrow hips, defined abs. A delicious body. A body that could be justified by the hour he spent in his home gym every morning when he woke up at dawn.

Eager to eat him up with her eyes, her hand dropped to his belt. After unbuckling it, she attacked the fastening on his pants.

His hand covered hers, stopping her. “You’re overdressed.”

She knocked his hand away. “I want to suck you.”

The words might have been initially intended to shock and arouse him, but as she said them, Tatiana knew they were for her benefit, too. She squirmed at the mere thought of having this man captive to her mouth. His eyes darkened to pure black, a curse hissing between his lips.

She unzipped his pants, carefully maneuvering over the impressive bulge between his legs. His black boxer briefs did nothing to hide his cock.

She licked her lips, and his cock jerked. “Hello there. Aren’t you tempting?”

His hand covered his cock, and he squeezed. “Does this tempt you?”

“You know it does.”

“It’s too bad you don’t want it inside of you.” He rubbed his dick through the cotton. “What a shame that you’re determined to deny both of us pleasure.”

She cast him a flirtatious look. “I’m not denying either of us anything.” She lowered his boxers and pulled out his hard cock. It was thick and long, precome wetting the tip. She bent over and lapped her tongue over the head, tasting him.

Breathing harsh, he fisted the root of his cock with one hand and sank the other into her hair. “Yes.”

He didn’t use his grip to make her deep throat him, which she appreciated. Oh, there were times when she was more than happy to get face-fucked, but she wanted to tease right now, this first time since they’d slept together, and he knew that. She licked him all over as if he were a melting ice cream cone, enjoying his increasingly desperate groans above her.

Finally, finally, she wrapped her lips around him and sucked. His fingers clenched in her hair hard enough to make her scalp sting, and he pulled her away. He dispatched her top in seconds, humming with pleasure when he caught sight of her breasts cupped in virginal white lace, a bra she knew he’d love.

So maybe she’d entertained the possibility that they would engage in some naked shenanigans.

He stood, his cock wet and curving out of his underwear. “Take your clothes off,” he ordered, and did the same, tearing off his garments in the amount of time it took her to wrestle her jeans and panties down.

He rested one naked knee on the couch next to her hip. He reached behind her. With a flick of his wrist, he had her bra undone.

“You’re still pretty good at that.” Tatiana shrugged her bra straps down her arms.

“It’s one skill a man doesn’t forget. Especially if a man has you for a teacher.”

An odd pride ran through her. Yes, she had taught him that. She’d been his first after all, and had stamped herself on his life the same way he had on hers.

Unable to resist, she stroked the cock staring her in her face and leaned in to flick it with her tongue. He grasped her head and gave her a small shake. “No.”

“You don’t want a blowjob?”

His slow smile made her heart pound. “Not exactly.” Dropping to his knees on the carpet between her spread legs, he wrapped one arm around her and brought her close, kissing her deep, his tongue flicking against her lips. Because she knew it would drive him crazy, she remained prim, keeping her mouth closed.

Sure enough, he growled, one hand cradling her head, his thumb pressing down on her chin. “Let me in,” he muttered against her lips.

She allowed him to pressure her lips into opening. He stroked inside, exploring her, his tongue dominant and strong. He bit her lip when they separated, dragging on the sensitive flesh. “Do you know what I haven’t had in a long time?” he murmured.

“What?”

His smile was curiously tender. He brushed aside a lock of her hair. His hand drifted down over her throat, to her breasts. He shaped the flesh and cradled it. “Do you remember what I used to love to do to you? In the backseat of that old Civic I had?”

“Um, everything.”

His thumb rubbed over her nipple. “Yes. But since I saw you today in that cock-teasing shirt, all I’ve been able to think about is fucking these tits.”

If it were possible to spontaneously combust of arousal, Tatiana would be there right now. Her thighs clenched, her pussy dampening. Especially when he came closer and drew her nipple into his mouth, each tug a direct line to the place between her legs. She looked down when he switched breasts. His long lashes fanned over his cheeks, his expression concentrated. With a final suck, he pulled away. A cry escaped when he deliberately rasped his ever-present stubble over one wet, sensitive tip.

His fingers toying with the nipples he’d left, he ran his tongue over the valley between her breasts and the inner slopes, rough swipes of possession.

His chest was rising and falling almost as quickly as hers when he released her. He nodded to the couch and stood. “On your back.”

She shifted to lie on her back, the soft couch making her nerve endings tingle. He stared down at her for a long minute. Vaguely self-conscious, she covered her belly with her arm. “What is it?”