By the Book (2 page)

I could have sworn his cheeks colored before he answered. “Well, yes, I am.”

“I wonder if we have your book in stock.” I frowned, recalling my cursory, fruitless search minutes before.

“See, this is where I fail. I’m supposed to whore my books out to all and sundry, but it feels too much like I’m”—elbows on the desk, he buried his face in his palms for a few seconds and, when he reemerged, took a deep breath—“bragging.”

“It’s not bragging if someone asks, is it? If it makes you feel any better, I’ll buy it instead of checking it out of the library. That way when the royalties start rolling in, I’ll own one of the stitches in your Ferrari’s upholstery.”
Ugh, Hutton. What is up with you?

He shook his head. “No, no, don’t do that. Uh, I don’t usually do this, but I’m assuming you’re something of a bookworm? Unless this is just a job to you? Anyway.” He lowered his gaze for a moment. Shyly.

I cocked my head to study him while he spoke. Yes, study. He had a face that begged to be looked at.

“I could give you one of my author copies. On one condition.”

“Which is?” I lifted my eyebrows. Ten minutes ago, I’d had no idea who this guy was. And yet now we were about to enter into some sort of bargain? Agreement? Whatever it was, the conversation wouldn’t end here.
Thank God
. And the relief pulsed through me like the dying echoes of panic.

“If you hate it, you must let me know.”

“Then we’ll definitely have to keep in touch,” I blurted out, relief performing a one-eighty and again becoming panic.
Fuck. What did I just say?

He grinned. “Oh I haven’t”—he held out a hand—“introduced myself. Daniel Cross.”

“Yes, I know.” I bit my lip. “I mean, when I checked your books back in, your name showed on the computer screen.” I stared at his hand for a second and realized what I was supposed to do. “Oh. I’m Reece.” Nervous of taking his hand, I did so anyway, and his was a warm, confident handshake without being forceful. I couldn’t wait to let go and, at the same time, didn’t want to.

“Reece. I assume you have a surname, Reece?”

Yes. I know I do. Somewhere in my brain, it’s… Now wait. Gimme a minute
… “Hutton. Reece Hutton.”

“Pleased to meet you, Reece Hutton.” Daniel Cross winked and only then let go of my hand, began to search through the pockets of his jacket, flung over the back of his chair. “Now where did I…? I know I had them somewhere. Ah, found one.”

I looked at the card he handed me, flipped it over, read the details. “You have a business card?”

“Well.” He had the good grace to look bashful. “Sometimes it pays to get shameless if you’ve just about talked someone into reading your book. Send me a text or an e-mail. I’ll get a copy to you.”

“Makes sense to have a card. Publicity and all that. You might end up snowed under with fan mail, though, if you hand these out.”

“Or e-mails telling me what a shitty writer I am, who’s got no business being anywhere near word-processing software.”

“People say that?” I asked, tucking the card into my back pocket, steadying my hand there.

“Maybe not in so many words. I get complimentary e-mails at times. But you can get one hundred nice ones, and it’s the ‘you suck cheesy donkey balls’ e-mail you remember most.” Eyes losing focus, he shook his head. “Still. You put your work out there in the public domain, you gotta take the rough with the smooth.” Glancing sideways, he winked. “The royalty checks soften the blow, though.”

Not even remotely less jittery now than when I’d touched him, I swallowed back a knot of nerves and in so doing, cleared the way for my attention—as well as a tangle of arousal—to shoot straight to my groin. “I’d better get back to work. Leave you to it.”
He winked at you, Hutton. Get a fucking grip. Just a wink
. Taking a few steps, I retreated but didn’t show my back to him yet. I didn’t want to, but I’d need to pretty damn soon if I was going to maintain some semblance of dignity and professionalism.

“Don’t forget to text me; I’ll get the book to you.”

“Sure. I’ll be in touch.” I turned, headed for the short flight of stairs leading down to the main body of the room again, and, heart thundering, looked over my shoulder before seeking sanctuary on the altar of the main desk.

Yes. Daniel Cross was still looking.

And I was still having trouble breathing.

* * *

I arrived home that evening to banging and clattering in the kitchen. As I’d been working late, Georgia had agreed to let herself in with the spare set of keys and start on dinner.

“Start on dinner” involved swearing at the cupboards for not being in the right place or containing whichever pot or pan she sought.

I hung up my jacket and leaned against the kitchen door frame, arms crossed. “This is what I like to see.”

“What, the little woman getting dinner on the table? Where the
fuck
did you leave the olive oil?”

“Me? I didn’t use it last. You made that stir-fry and—there, try that cupboard; no, the—see? There it is. And the day you’re anyone’s ‘little woman’—” I couldn’t finish the sentence. The thought was too comical. “Although a welcome-home kiss? That I wouldn’t object to.”

“Not until you say the magic words.” Looking over her shoulder, she winked.

“What? ‘Hi, honey, I’m home’?” Grinning, I crossed the room and slipped a hand round her waist and pulled her back toward me.

“Mr. Hutton. Is that a gun in your pocket—”

“No; I
am
just pleased to see you.”

Dropping the knife on the chopping board, she laughed. “And I didn’t even have to wear the apron and stilettos this time.”

“Oh God.” I groaned into her neck, thankful her messy blonde ponytail meant I could taste her skin all the sooner.

She wiped her hands on a tea towel and turned around to face me. “Wait till you hear my news.”

“Do tell.” I had a clue but wanted to hear it from her.

“I met Sarah during my lunch break today.”

Round about the time I was shooting the breeze with
—“Go on.”

“We talked.”

“As women do when they get together.” I brushed her bangs back off her face, tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, worked my other hand underneath the hem of her blouse. It was hard to be in the same room as Georgia Lawrence and not touch her. It’d always been like that, since the first night. Introduced at a party and boom, two hours later, naked. Admittedly not in the room in which we’d met;
that
would have been a bit much, even by our liberal standards. We’d had the decency to go back to my place first, but from an eight o’clock “
Hey, I’m Reece
” to her screaming that very name took a couple of hours and a taxi ride home.
Nice work, Hutton.

“And I think you’ll like what we said.”

“Hmm?” I murmured, still distracted by the low vee of her neckline. Nuzzling into her neck, I worked at the top button, just to deepen that neckline and make the view even more—

“
Reece
. Are you listening? ‘Cause I really think you’ll like this.”

“I’d like it even more if you had fewer clothes on.”

“Reece!” Georgia smacked my hand away, laughing when I put it right back where it had been, working at another button. “I spoke to Sarah at lunchtime.” She sighed when I undid the last button and pulled her blouse open.

“And?” Running my fingertips over the swell of her breast, I waited for the catch in her throat and—
there
. Caught breath and I had her attention. “You were saying?”

“It’s hard to keep my mind on the conversation when you’re doing that.”

“Do you want me to stop?”

“I didn’t say
that
.”

“You were telling me about Sarah.” Even pushing the cup of her bra aside, letting my palm touch the nipple as I cupped Georgia’s breast made me harder. God, I wanted her. I didn’t know what had gotten into me, but whatever it was, I liked it. It wasn’t even the thought of Georgia and Sarah discussing what they’d met up to discuss; I’d been turned on before I got home.

Maybe that
was
it. I’d known this conversation was coming. I’d known the time of confirmation or denial was soon.

“She said yes.”

My hand still on Georgia’s breast, I flinched, fingers contracting momentarily. “She said…?” The nipple hardened between my thumb and forefinger. “She said yes?” Cradling Georgia’s face in both hands, I kissed her, and straightaway our tongues met, not bothering with gentle overtures, just desperate, deep kisses, which came with familiarity and the certainty this was going to be fucking hot.

Pulling away, Georgia managed to mutter, “She did,” before kissing me again and hooking her leg round mine.

“I really have no idea what I did to deserve a woman like you, you know,” I murmured against her neck. Her skin was so soft and warm, I could touch her for hours without getting bored.

“You must have been a dirty pervert in a former life.”

“Works for me.” I listened for the gasp as I worked a fingertip past the edge of her thong; she always wore the briefest slivers of underwear, thank God. “Christ, you’re wet.”

“Former life and—oh God, Reece.” Georgia pushed against me, and my finger slipped inside easily. And another. “And this one.”

“You must have been thinking of me before I got home.”

“I was thinking of you and Sarah.”

Instant arousal jolted through me like electricity. “Fucking hell, Geo. You’re…”

“Well, we have to do
something
to make your birthday go with a bang.”

“It will that, all right.” It took reserves of self-control I didn’t know I had to move slowly, to stroke her from the inside and listen to the quiet gasps heaving her chest. She tried to resist pushing back against me; I knew it. And failed. With only two fingers moving against her G-spot, I was in control, her hips following me every time I threatened to withdraw.

“Don’t
stop
.” Georgia gripped my arm, held it steady, and tried to push against me harder, but I resisted, moving away as she came forward. “
Reece
.”

Laughing quietly, I let my breath whisper over her skin, the curve where her neck became shoulder. “If we get too carried away, I might have to take you into the bedroom and fuck you.”

“Then do it.” Her voice, absent of hesitation, sent a wave of anticipation rippling up my spine. “I dare you.”

Withdrawing my fingers from her pussy, I gave her clit the merest hint of pressure with the heel of my hand, smiling in triumph when she gasped. “Ask nicely.”

“Hmm?”

“I said…” Drawing her earlobe between my lips, I nipped it gently, just enough to make her flinch. “I said, ask nicely. I want you to remember your manners.”

“Please.”

“Once more with feeling, Miss Lawrence.” I circled her clit with one finger, not touching it, just promising to. But not yet. “Please what?”

“Please. I want you to just—” She gulped. “I want you to fuck me. Now.”

“With pleasure.” I didn’t even look behind me, just hauled her by the wrist to the bedroom, shut the door, and threw her up against it. “Christ, I’ve been thinking about you all day.”
No you haven’t
. “I was desperate to get home tonight,” I breathed, all but tearing her blouse off and dropping it beside us.
No you weren’t. You were busy. No, not busy. Occupied.

“God, Reece.” Georgia grabbed me by the waist and pulled me against her. “What is with you?”

“Are you complaining?” I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been this hard, this desperate to get inside her, this keen to prove something. “Turn around.” Hands on her waist, I made her obey. “Hands flat against the door.”

Turning her head to the side, she laughed. “What are you gonna do? Arrest me?”

“You want me to cuff you?”

All I got in reply was a quiet, seductive moan.

“Now. Hands. Against the door.”

Her left hand came up, nails clicking against the hard wood. Then her right. “Now what?”

“Stay where you are. No. Movement. Don’t move an inch.” Christ, she was gorgeous. So willing, so compliant, so eager to please, so fucking dirty. And
mine
. I helped her off with her thong, pulling it past her knees, and she kicked it off completely. “Remember what I said? Don’t move. No peeking. Stay. Where. You. Are.” Resting my hands on her hips, I kissed her neck once before backing away, smiling when she flinched.

Her head inclined ever so slightly. She didn’t break the rules, but she did shudder when I opened the bedside cabinet drawer.

“See?” I pointed out. “Nothing more ominous than this.” And I said nothing more, letting the silence emphasize the tearing foil when it came.

In seconds I had my belt and zip undone and the condom on, wondering how the hell I managed it so quickly with shaking hands. I hadn’t wanted her this badly in a while. It was always good between us, but this went way beyond need. This was desperation.

“Reece?”

“Shh.” One hand on her waist, I pulled her back, worked the tip of my cock inside her, just an inch, waiting for the—

“
Oh
.”

There
. “Christ, you
are
ready for me, aren’t you? You’re so fucking wet I could just slide my cock all the way in.”

She pushed back, but I held her steady.

I murmured against the back of her neck, “Oh no you don’t. Stay still.” And I gave her more. But didn’t go deep. Not yet. “God, I love the sounds you make. I just wish I had the…” Gulping, I closed my eyes, pulled back, fucked her a little deeper. “I wish I had the self-control to draw this out even longer so I could make you moan a bit louder.”

Catching the scent of her shampoo, I looked at her hair, still up in that messy ponytail tangled around my hand, and I gave it a tug to hear her gasp.

“But I can’t. Fucking.
Wait
that long.” I slammed every last inch of my cock into her so hard the air whooshed out of my lungs in one throaty growl. “Jesus, Georgia. Fucking hell, this. Is. I can’t—” Burying my head in the side of her neck, every thrust forcing a gasp out of her and breath I didn’t know I had out of me, I fucked her as hard and deep as I could at this angle.

“Reece.”