Body of Work (28 page)

A cry ripped from her, so sharp and intense it was almost silent. She bucked and scratched at him. And his name on her lips—fuck. He’d never heard anything as sweet. Her pussy hugged him and snapped the last of his control.

“Cassie, fuck…” The room tipped sideways. Or it was just him, losing blood flow to every part of his body except his cock, which had to be three times its normal size. He dug his fingers into her hips. Held her there while he came like he’d never fucking come in his life. Collapsed half on top of her in a sweaty, breathless heap. “I meant what I said.” He caught her chin, tipped her face to his for a long, deep kiss. “About loving you. And not letting you go.”

She didn’t speak. Didn’t move. Just lay beneath him with closed eyes while her breathing settled and her normal color returned. After coming as hard and intensely as she had, she was probably borderline exhausted. Possibly hadn’t heard a word he’d said. As much as he didn’t want to move, he wanted to take care of her more. Now. Always.

This was the first time he’d given her that kind of orgasm, and the bed was wet from more than their damp post-shower skin. He loved restraining her, dominating her while she hungrily submitted—but this was the sexiest, most vulnerable he’d seen her. Despite scratching and biting the hell out of him, she’d been helpless beneath him. Completely at the mercy of the pleasure he’d given. And in accepting that ecstasy, she’d claimed him as thoroughly as he’d done to her.

He placed a soft kiss on her forehead. Gently strummed her nipple with his thumb. His cock, still semi-hard, stirred inside her, ready for more. Unbelievable after coming the way he had. He rose over her again and stroked upward, one time, to hear her soft little moan, before sliding slowly from her body. “Oh fuck.”

Cassie’s sex-drugged eyes blinked open. “What’s wrong, are you going to be late for something?”

No, but she might, a couple of weeks from now. Unless she’d gone on the Pill. They’d discussed it a few weeks back and that’d been the plan. She must have, or she’d have stopped him, reminded him to suit up, as she had other times.

He shook his head. “Everything else on my schedule can wait.” He leaned over and kissed her cheek. “Pretend you’re chained to my bed like we talked about. I’ll be right back with a towel and a drink.”

She nodded. Managed a smile, even. But everything was such a mess, one hundred times worse than before.

They should’ve had hard sex, angry sex. One last bang, then she could’ve said what she needed and walked out the door, for good. But no…he’d made love to her instead. Oh, there’d been hard and it’d had plenty of bang—the fireworks-in-her-head-and-stars-shooting-through-her-body kind—but it’d been the opposite of angry. He’d told her he loved her. Again. Twice.

In an apartment this small, it didn’t take long to hit the kitchen and bathroom, and Brian was already halfway back to the bed. Gloriously naked—the man had no sense of modesty, thank god—but he didn’t look his usual, relaxed self. Tension bunched in his neck and shoulders. Shadows had found a home under his eyes. All of it her fault.

She willed some solidity to her bones and shuffled to a semi-seated position. Ridiculous as it was, she tugged the sheet that’d been twisted beneath them up to cover herself.

“Chill?”

“A little,” she lied.

A quick side trip to his sofa and he was back at his bed, one of his t-shirts in hand. “This’ll work better. The sheets are kind of damp.”

She ran a palm over the smooth cotton. Oh god. Damp was a polite understatement. “Sorry, that was, um, a first for me.” And here she’d thought all the hype about G-spot orgasms was exactly that. Consider her among the thoroughly educated.

“The first of many, I’ll make sure of it.” Ego lived in the smile on his face, to be sure, but more than that, he looked—satisfied. As if he couldn’t wait to make
her
feel that way again. He eased the shirt over her head, gently peeled the sheet away and guided her arms through the gaping sleeves. “Just your size.”

Not even close on the shirt. The man whose scent was all over the shirt, on the other hand, was exactly that. And she had to let him go. Truly, this time.

“I—I’ll be right back.” Head down, she grabbed the towel he’d placed by her knee and scurried to his washroom. She wrenched his shirt from her body. Buried her face in the soft, warm fabric and choked back sobs that desperately wanted to escape. A new wave threatened each time she tried to set the t-shirt aside. Somehow, she had to pull herself together.

The door opened after a light knock she hadn’t acknowledged. “Hey. You okay? Did I—” His Adam’s apple rose and fell as he swallowed. He surveyed her face, her body. “I know I went pretty damn deep. Did I hurt you? Tell me the truth.”

“No, god no.” Nothing changed in his expression. Even knowing the truth about Leanne, he still didn’t trust himself. That was the trouble with trust—once it’d been broken, deep inside, getting it back was almost impossible. She got that. Boy, did she ever. “You didn’t hurt me. You never have, I swear.” She wanted to throw her arms around him so badly. That’d only make leaving harder.

The cloud lifted, then he narrowed his eyes at her again. “You’re still shaking—why’d you take off my shirt?”

Because she was terrified of losing her will if she stayed wrapped in the security of his smell. “I didn’t want to get it wet. You know,” she tipped her head, “from me.”

“I don’t care about that.” Now he smiled and pulled her into his arms. “Besides, I’m equally to blame.” His nose burrowed into her hair, found the spot behind her ear that always made her shiver. “You felt so good around me, so wet and warm…if I could’ve fucked you for hours, I would have. I could try that again, right now.”

She should say no. “Brian…”

His hand slid down her back, over the curve of her ass to her leg, which he hitched up and planted on the tub behind him. Clearly, he’d missed the
no
in the desperate way she’d said his name. The pad of his thumb settled above her clit. Two firm circles and her arms were around his back, clinging. He bent at the knees. Caught her mouth under his and coaxed her lips apart with his tongue. The head of his cock teased between her legs. He cupped her behind and thrust, filling her.

“Brian—stop.”

His muscles tensed as he froze. “Too soon? Are you sore?”

“Condom,” she whispered.

“What?”

“You forgot the condom.” While her cheeks flamed, his had lost all trace of color.

“You’re not on the Pill now?”

Realization dawned as her head shook in exaggerated slow motion. The heat of the moment, the wet sheets, the things he’d said. “Before…you didn’t…?”

“No.”

The emptiness as he withdrew from her body triggered the tears she’d held back minutes earlier.

“I thought—fuck, I didn’t think. Don’t cry. I’ll take care of it. Of you.”

“You can’t.”

“The hell I can’t.” His arms tightened around her, his lips moving against the top of her head. “We’ll work through it. All of it. Whatever happened to keep you away, anything life throws at us, now and years from now.”

Another sob heaved in her chest. “It’s not that easy.”

“It doesn’t have to be easy to be great.”

She should’ve pulled free. Put her clothes on and left. Instead, she pressed her face tighter to the warm, solid wall of his chest. “It can’t work…you don’t understand.”

“So make me, Cassie. This time,
you
make
me
.” He grasped her arms and stepped back, looming over her, filling the small space with his presence and deep voice. “You know how I feel. You know who I am,
what
I am, the worst things I’ve done. You’re still here. What the fuck is it you think I can’t handle about you? Or is it that you just don’t trust me?”

“Some things aren’t mine to offer in trust. I learned that the hard way.”

“No more riddles and evasion. Just tell me. Goddamn it, Cassie.” Raw emotions—anger, exasperation—played across his face, in the tight set of his muscles and his grip on her shoulders.

“I can’t.”

“Bullshit.”

“Brian…” How could she make him understand without—making him understand. “My life, my secrets, involve other people. A lot of other people in intimate, compromising situations.”

“So, what—you were a call girl, or you worked in a rub-n-tug or something?”

“Oh my god, no. That’s disgusting.” She shivered again, head to toe.

He blew out a frustrated breath and swiped the t-shirt from her hands. Popped it over her head for the second time. “Because it wouldn’t matter.”

“It’d be okay with you if I pay the bills by jerking guys off, or—more?”

“Fuck no. I’d work around the clock to keep you from doing that now.” This time, when he held her shoulders, his touch was gentle. To match his eyes. “But if you’d done it in the past, even recently, it wouldn’t keep me away or change how I feel. Nothing you could say will.”

“I don’t deserve you.”

“You’re right, you deserve a hell of a lot better. I’m just hoping you’ll settle for an unemployed brute with a criminal record who’d do anything for you.”

God, her heart. “I want to, so much.”

“Good.” The charming smile she’d fallen for months ago slid into place.

“But I can’t make the same promise. Remember what you said to me, that you don’t want a relationship that can’t handle full disclosure? That’s me. What I used to do…it’s confidential.”

“Not a hooker, a spy. Got it. No problem, Agent Johnson—if that is your real name—it’s in the vault.”

“You know I’m not a spy.”

He winked. “Sure you’re not.”

Here she was, trying to explain, quite seriously, why she couldn’t be with him, and he was being sweet and joking. “People aren’t always what they seem.” She bent to gather her discarded bag. “I have something to show you. The reason I came over.” She fished out an envelope and handed it to him. “Look inside.”

He pulled out the business check. “This is for the Iron Works job? Nice.”

“That’s the deposit, the project is still in progress.”

“Very nice.” He shot her a hard look. “Trevor backed off after that night at Barolo, right?”

“Completely. Thank you.”

“Don’t. My fault you were in that position in the first place.”

“Wait,” she said when he stuffed the check back into the envelope. “It’s not the numbers I wanted you to see, it’s the signature.”

His eyes bounced from her face to the paper. “Leonard Ritchie.”

“Trevor’s dad. The real owner of Iron Works.”

“What the fuck?”

“Trevor’s supposed to be the manager and figurehead, but he has no real power. It took a little digging. I’m fortunate to have some well-connected friends in the local business world.” Namely Paulo and Beth, who’d brought her the information on a platter, along with delicious takeout from the restaurant, to make sure she was eating while crying her eyes out. “Any contracts you signed that had Trevor’s name on the bottom can go straight to the recycling box. They mean nothing.”

“Christ. I had no idea. We’re paid by direct deposit, I’ve never seen Leonard’s name or met the man.”

Now it was clicking. At least she could do this for him. “I have the senior Mr. Ritchie’s number. I don’t think he’ll be too happy to hear how his son treats his employees. Or members. I bet you’ll get your job back as soon as he finds out what happened, especially if you tell him what you’ve learned about Leanne’s lies.”

“That’s the important thing you came over to talk about—how to get my job back?”

She could barely speak around the lump in her throat. “Yes.”

“Not what’s spooking you and how we can fix it.”

“No.”

Everything about him hardened. He yanked the towel from its bar and secured it around his waist. “Guess I’ll let you get dressed so you can take off, then.” And he left, jerking the bathroom door closed behind him.

No crying until she got to her car. Out of his apartment, at least. She tipped her head up while dressing, as if that would make the tears funnel back inside her head instead of spilling down her face, turning her nose red and mottling her cheeks. The mirror didn’t lie—she was a mess, inside and out. She deserved to be at this point. She’d come here to fix things for Brian, not hurt him more. He’d thought he wasn’t good enough for her…he was probably in the other room realizing how backward he’d gotten that one.

She scribbled Leonard Ritchie’s contact info on a scrap of paper and tucked it behind the edge of the mirror. Gave her puffy eyes a final dab. She stepped into the body of his apartment, head down but peeking up through eyelashes and untamed damp hair. If she’d expected him to make this easy for her by giving her his back, no such luck. He stood beside the door, arms folded over his t-shirt-clad chest, eyes riveted to her every step.

“You’re mine until you walk out this door, remember?”

She froze in front of him. He hadn’t put an arm out to stop her, nor did he need to. They both knew that. A small blessing. If he touched her, softly or otherwise, she’d crumble.