Devilishly Wicked (19 page)

F
unny, Georgia had managed to forget the situation was weird between her and Tristan. That was until he got that oddly serious look and then said he had a confession.

She was willing to bet she didn’t want to hear this confession. Would it be that he regretted having sex with her? Or that he didn’t think he could work with her now, because of their awkward situation? Or was he just going to go into a long explanation of why it couldn’t happen again. She definitely didn’t know how to handle any of those confessions.

“I really like you.”

Georgia’s strategy planning stopped.

“What?”

Tristan smiled that crooked, sexy, oh-so-naughty smile of his. “That sounded really stupid, didn’t it?”

She didn’t respond, trying to switch gears. He liked her? She hadn’t thought of a casual comeback for that confession.

“I—I like you, too,” she said, her tone sounding befuddled even to her own ears.

He laughed then, and for a moment, she thought his admission must be some sort of joke.

“God, I feel like some tongue-tied teenage boy. Or at least I think I do.” He said the latter almost under his breath.

That confused her even further, but he continued. “Last night was pretty damned spectacular.”

She nodded.

“And I find that I don’t really want to just have a one-night stand with you.”

She nodded again, not quite sure where he was going with this.

“And while I don’t usually ‘date,’ I find that I want to date you.”

She wasn’t sure if she should be flattered or insulted. He was hardly offering her words of adoration—not that she expected them. She expected to get fired. But still, given how charming he could be, this was rather underwhelming.

“And why do you find yourself wanting that?” She was surprised at her own question, but really, she needed more from him than “I like you and I don’t know why, but I want to date you.”

“Honestly,” he said, his expression going from a smile to a rather bemused look, “I can’t get you off my mind. I’ve been thinking about you nonstop all day.”

That was a bit more flattering, or it would have been if he didn’t look so muddled by the concept.

“I mean, I have had a lot of . . . sexual relations, and”—he shook his head—“you have just affected me more than anyone.”

Again, his words could have been complimentary, minus the first part.

She grimaced, not sure what to say.

“That didn’t sound right, did it?” he said as soon as he saw her face.

She shook her head.

“I’m sorry,” he said immediately. “I have to admit, I’m a little shaken. I have just never . . . felt this way. It’s like I’m . . . obsessed with you.”

She grimaced a little more.

“That didn’t sound any better, did it?”

“No,” she said, offering him a pained look. She almost felt sorry for him. He really was shaken. By her. Or rather by feeling the way he did about her.

He moved closer and reached for her hands.

“Okay, let me actually get this right.” His thumbs caressed the backs of her hands, and she was shocked how sensitive the skin there was. She felt his touch throughout her whole body.

“I won’t deny I’ve dated a lot. I mean, as my assistant, you know that.”

True, and all of those dates, many of which she had arranged for him, had caused her a lot of envy.

“And while I can’t explain it, you and our time together have affected me far more than any of them. I’m going to be honest, I don’t know what I’m doing, but I just know I want to see you more. I need to see more of you.”

Well, that explanation was much better than the others. She didn’t even mind his odd desperation and bewilderment. After all, she felt a little bewildered herself. And he was saying she had made more impact on him than all the others. Others who were stunningly beautiful. Amazingly elegant. And decidedly more put together than she was.

Self-consciously, she pulled one of her hands away from his to touch her disheveled hair, pulled into a haphazard ponytail.

He immediately caught her hand again and pressed his lips to her knuckles. Her heart thundered in her chest.

“I know this isn’t what I suggested initially,” he said, his expression almost . . . pleading. Could this gorgeous man really be pleading with her?

“But I really want to continue seeing you. Beyond our work relationship.”

She stared at him, still expecting this to be some sort of joke. But he simply stood waiting, his expression sincere and a little . . . nervous?

God, a part of her wanted to just say yes. Exuberantly say yes. But she was a wise enough woman to know she had to have just a little self-preservation.

“How will this affect my job?”

Instead of looking offended, he smiled, a glint in his vivid green eyes that looked very much like he was impressed.

“I think that’s part of what draws me to you,” he said.

“What’s that?”

“That you are sensible as well as sexy.” He kissed her knuckles again, this time his tongue darting out to taste her.

“I don’t feel particularly sensible,” she said, her voice reedy with her building arousal.

“Oh? How do you feel?”

She met his gaze, although she was sure her eyes were as hooded by lust as his were.

“You know I’m attracted to you,” she said, not willing to put herself out there more than that. This strange announcement he’d made was still new and she needed time to process it. Which certainly wasn’t easy with him so close, and his lips on her skin, even if it was the back of her hand.

“Your job will be unaffected, not matter how this dating thing plays out. I know you have huge concerns when it comes to your grandmother, and I respect that.”

She nodded, watching with dazed eyes as he uncurled her fingers from around his and proceeded to pull one into his mouth, his tongue playing over the sensitive pad of her fingertip.

“And—and how will we behave at work?” she managed, squeezing his other hand which still held hers.

“Like complete professionals.”

She nodded, or at least she thought she nodded.

“And how do we end this when our interest and attraction finally play out?” As soon as she asked the question, she held her breath. And not because of his teeth grazing across the knuckle of her index finger. Yet another place she had no idea was so sensitive.

“Well, when that happens, we will again be adult and mature and handle it graciously.”

Georgia noticed he said
when
rather than
if
. For a moment, her heart lurched in her chest. But she supposed it was only reasonable to remain pragmatic about this.

And God knows she did want more of him. More of his attention, more of his flirting, more of his mouth, she thought dreamily as she watched him suck her finger.

But she forced herself to focus. Ground rules were good. They would save them both a lot of confusion and pain. Although, she feared the only one truly at risk of pain was she. As if to accentuate that thought, he nipped her fingertip, just lightly.

And not that kind of pain.

“So when either of us decides we are finished with the relationship—”

He smiled around her finger, and then popped it out of his mouth. “I like that word: relationship.”

She frowned slightly. As if he’d never had a relationship. Dear God, he was truly acting like this was the only time he’d ever considered seeing just one person for longer than a date or two.

Wait, he
was
considering dating just one person, wasn’t he?

First things first.

“When either of us decides to end the relationship, we will do so before moving on to another . . .” Clearly relationships weren’t how he labeled most of his dating. She finally opted on, “Person.”

“Absolutely.” His tongue moved from her finger to her palm.

“And,”—back to her previous concern—“we will date exclusively until that time.”

“Definitely.” He pressed a kiss to the inside of her wrist.

“And we will also have safe sex,” she added, trying very desperately to stay focused. But this one was a must. She was already kicking herself for her lack of responsibility the night before. Now hearing him say aloud that he’d had many sexual relations, that was definitely a must.

However, this one gave him pause. “Safe sex? I assure you I am totally safe in that regard.”

She made a dubious face. “That’s what all the boys say.”

“They do?” He seemed genuinely surprised by that news.

“Yes,” she said, not being swayed by his rather adorable puzzled look. “So condoms from here on out.”

“What about last night?” he pointed out as if he’d got her now.

“We were caught up in the heat of the moment. Thankfully, I am on the pill, so we are safe on that count,” she assured him. “But we still need to be safe about other things.”

“I don’t have any other things,” he muttered. Clearly some of his ardor had been doused by the idea of a latex raincoat down there.

Too bad, she thought. Although, she did miss his lips on her wrist, and she was curious about where he’d planned to kiss next.

“Okay,” he finally said begrudgingly. “What else?”

She could tell from his expression, he was finding her to be a bit of a party-pooper.

“And . . .” She thought for a second. “I guess that’s it. For me anyway. Do you have any requests?”

“Yes,” he said immediately. “You are not to wear panties to work.”

That was his one stipulation?

“No panties?”

“None.”

“That doesn’t seem very professional,” she pointed out, keeping her tone practical, although she could feel her cheeks burning.

“Yes, well,
HOT!
is a fashion magazine. Think of it as a fashion statement,” he said. Then he smiled in that crooked way of his that she was sure got him damned near everything he wanted.

“All right,” she agreed, albeit hesitantly. She wasn’t going to bring up that particular time of the month, but surely that was a loophole. She’d just assume it was.

“So are we agreed?” he asked, his lips moving back to her upturned wrist.

She nodded, and then cleared her throat to find her voice. It was not easy as she watched his lips move over her wrist and up the inside of her arm.

“Yes.”

He lifted his head and grinned that smug smile she’d seen dozens of times before. Although, this time, she could swear she saw something that looked like relief in his verdant gaze.

“Marianne, are you there?”

Both of them looked toward the kitchen door like guilty teenagers caught in the act.

“And your grandmother always takes precedence over anything else,” Tristan said with a slightly disappointed smile.

But Georgia found that last rule the one that clinched her horrendously enormous crush on him. A dangerous crush to be sure, but she couldn’t seem to control it.

“I’m here,” Georgia answered. “I’ll be right there.”

Tristan released her hands and she hurried past him, only to pause in the doorway. “Would you like to stay for dinner? It’s nothing gourmet. Just grilled cheese and tomato soup.”

Tristan smiled, stealing her breath away. “I’d love to.”

She nodded and rushed down the hall.

Holy crap, what had she agreed to now?

T
ristan finished the last bite of his grilled cheese, and then sighed. “That was delicious. What do you mean ‘not gourmet’? What kind of cheese was that?”

Georgia paused in her chewing, and then quickly swallowed. “Velveeta.”

“Well, I’ve never heard of it, but if it isn’t gourmet, it clearly should be.”

Georgia laughed. “I don’t want to sound rude, but I sometimes wonder where you came from.”

Tristan’s smile faltered, just slightly. Then he said wryly, “Believe me, you wouldn’t want to know.”

He set his plate on the table and reached for the glass of white wine. It was the one thing she had added to the simple meal to make it a little fancier.

“No dancing. No Velveeta. Clearly not,” she said, reaching for her own wine.

“Oh, I didn’t say there was no dancing. Just no proms. Dancing is actually accepted. Although, it’s usually done naked and around raging fires. More ritualistic than for entertainment.”

She paused, the glass halfway to her lips, shocked by his comment. Then he smiled, and she relaxed, shaking her head.

“You had me going for a moment,” she laughed.

He smiled, but it didn’t seem to reach his eyes. For a second, she wondered again if maybe he’d been telling the truth. Or trying to share something about his past.

“You are so beautiful when you laugh.”

She met his gaze, realizing that serious look was desire. Desire for her. Amazing.

“Thank you.”

He started to reach for her hand, and then stopped. “Should we check on your grandmother?”

Georgia nodded, although she hated to agree. She wanted that touch. But as he’d stipulated earlier, her grandmother always came first.

“I’ll check on her,” she said, placing her wineglass back on the table and uncurling from the sofa. “You can just relax. Maybe there’s a movie on TV.”

She hesitated. “That is if you wanted to stay.”

“Oh, I want to stay,” he assured her, and she got the feeling it wasn’t to watch a movie. Her toes curled into the soft pile of the carpet.

She nodded and headed to her grandmother’s room. They had sat with her as she ate, waiting to eat their dinner later. Her grandmother had looked tired and Georgia had just made hers and brought it directly to her.

She eased open the door to see her grandmother’s bedside lamp was still on, but Grammy slept, her lips slightly open, her Agatha Christie mystery spread open on her chest. Georgia could hear her even breathing from across the room and the sound comforted her.

She tiptoed to the nightstand and switched off the light. A lit white, opaque figurine of a Victorian couple in a sleigh cast a soft light around the room, just enough so that if Grammy woke in the night, she wouldn’t be disoriented. Well, hopefully she wouldn’t be disoriented.

Georgia hoped tomorrow would be better for her than today, but she knew eventually the bad days would be more frequent than the good. The idea depressed her.

Georgia watched her a moment longer, then carefully pulled the door almost shut, wanting to be sure she heard Grammy if she woke up needing something.

As Georgia walked back toward the living room, she heard the water on in the kitchen and the gentle clatter of dishes. She stopped in the kitchen doorway to find Tristan loading the dishwasher. He had a perplexed expression as he tried to find a place for a soup bowl as if he was trying to solve a Rubik’s cube in twenty moves or less. Of course, Georgia was positive he’d never loaded a dishwasher before. The fact he was even trying was rather endearing. Or very endearing.

“Can I help?”

He looked up, and then smiled sheepishly. “Is it that obvious I’ve never done this before?”

“Yeah,” she said with a grin, and then strode over to ease the dish out of his hand. “I’ll do it.”

She bent over to place the bowl on the bottom rack, and Tristan took that opportunity to replace the bowl between his hands with her hips.

“I think I like loading dishwashers. A lot.”

She couldn’t help herself, and she pressed back against him. His large erection prodded into her lower back.

“Well, it isn’t usually quite so exciting,” she admitted.

He rubbed tighter against her. “Oh, I bet it is always this exciting with you.”

She straightened and turned to face him. His hands stayed on her hips, again pulling her close, and all thoughts of a pithy comeback escaped her. She was far too distracted by his beautiful lips close to hers.

His gaze moved to her lips as well just before he lowered his head to kiss her.

His mouth amazed her, soft and hard all at the same time. Controlling and persuasive. Tangy and sweet.

She made a small noise deep in throat, loving all the contrasts: loving his hard body against her soft one, his fingers digging into the cushion of her hips.

“I’ve wanted to do that from the moment you opened your door,” he murmured against her lips.

“I’ve wanted you to,” she admitted.

She felt his smile against her lips, and he kissed her again, slowly and thoroughly, which just fanned the fire in her, taking it from a slow burn to a roar.

He positioned her so her back was against the sideboard and his legs between hers. She reached behind her, feeling for the countertop to steady herself, even though Tristan still held her hips.

Her hand brushed against one of the dirty plates and it clattered into the sink.

They jumped apart, looking around them guiltily. When the apartment remained quiet, they both laughed.

“We do act a bit like sneaky teenagers,” Georgia said.

“Sneaky, horny teenagers,” Tristan said, sounding appropriately desperate.

“Is there any other kind?” She leaned in to kiss him again.

“I have no idea,” he murmured before he captured her mouth again.

This kiss was more frantic than the last, his tongue parting her lips and tasting her. Hers tasted him back. Her hands moved from the counter to knot in his hair, the short silky waves curling around her fingers as if tugging her back.

“Is your grandmother okay?” he managed to pant against the side of her neck.

She wasn’t sure how he had the concentration to consider double-checking, but she nodded.

“Yes, asleep.”

“Good,” he said and spun her around. She followed his direction readily, leaning back against his chest as his hands came around her waist to find the button of her jeans. He popped them open with a dexterity that she decided to appreciate rather than analyze. Then he wedged his fingers into the waistband to work them down over her hips. She shimmied to help him and he groaned and stopped pushing at them.

He stepped back and she nearly groaned herself at the loss of his body heat and hardness against her.

“Do that again,” he said, his tone managing to be somewhere between an order and a plea.

She paused for only a second, then did as he asked, pivoting her hips from side to side as she pulled her jeans down over her hips.

Tristan groaned again. She had the most amazing ass. A waist that flared into full hips, a round, pale rear end with two adorable dimples on either side of her tailbone. All of it was so curved and soft and feminine.

“Damn, you are so sexy,” he whispered, his words filled with worship.

She glanced over her shoulder at him, some of her hair coming loose from her ponytail, her glasses slipping down her pert nose. She reminded him of a very, very naughty schoolteacher.

She opened her mouth as if to say something, but instead she just wiggled her derriere at him in invitation. And he didn’t need to be invited more than once. He unfastened his own pants and freed his throbbing erection. Then he moved back to press himself against all that pale softness. She made a small noise, somewhere between a hiss and a whimper, and thrust her hips against him.

“Can I take you like this?” he whispered in her ear. “From behind, right here in the kitchen?”

She nodded, making another whimpering noise. He gently bit her ear, tugging the velvety skin of her earlobe. She bucked against him again. But still he didn’t bend her over and enter her.

Instead, he slid a hand between her thighs to stroke her desire-dampened lips. He slipped his fingers farther inside her, his thumb entering her hot, tight vagina and his fingers massaging her swollen clit.

He rubbed her and filled her that way, feeling her lust drench his hand, and her breath come in short, sharp gasps.

“Do you want me inside you?” he asked when he’d felt her shudder of release as if it were his own.

“Yes,” she said, her voice low and breathy.

“Do you?”

“Yes,” she cried this time, her voice cracking with need.

He positioned himself and her, pushing her down against the countertop until her back was arched and her butt was up in the air, offered to him.

Then he filled her. To his utter shock, he almost came right then. But he remained still, gathering himself. Then he began to thrust deep into her. Their labored breath and the sound of their bodies slamming together filled the kitchen. It was the most erotic sound he’d ever heard.

She made a noise deep in her chest as if she was trying to hold in a scream, but her climax rushed over him, around him. He shook with it, the feeling so powerful his knees nearly buckled. But he continued to fill her over and over. She came again, this time crying out, low and keening. And that orgasm was too much for him. Far too intense for him to stop his own. He made a deep growl and thrust to the hilt, his cock pulsing inside her tight vagina.

“Oh, my God,” she said, shivering with her own release and weakness.

Oh, my God, was right. God was certainly never a deity he cried out to, but in this instance, he was more than willing to agree with her. Then he collapsed over her, his body pinning her to the counter, weak and shaking.

Oh, my God.