Endgame (7 page)

His nostrils flared, and his pupils dilated with lust and…fear? Really? “Do you have to be so…brazen?”

“This isn’t the dark ages. It is what it is. I don’t have time in life to sort out a kind way to call your manly attributes something you would find more pleasing.”

He gulped. “I just don’t get why we can’t make love. I’m all about the love making.”

Really. He called his five minute stint of humping that whore lovemaking? She crossed her arms over her chest, not liking the shame creeping into her mind. “I would like to please you, Aaron. Unfortunately, making love isn’t on the table because I have baggage. Jake told you that. And right now, fucking you is also not an option.”

“Your baggage would rather you blow me.” Confusion reigned supreme on his handsome face. She was starting to feel the same way—confused. A little cheap.

“No, my baggage would rather I get on a plane and go home. My baggage says that you are the worst thing that could happen to me. I should go over Jake’s head, call Chase and make him pull me. If he knew I was sitting in a closet, contemplating sucking you senseless, I would be on that plane.” She shifted. “So. Do you want a blowjob or not?”

“No.”

“Jesus, Aaron, you’re a sissy. Thank fuck you’ve ditched the Anderson off your screen name. You don’t deserve to be one.”

Silence. She waited for something. Anything.

“I’ve only had one once before. One blowjob.” His voice was low. So soft she almost missed his words. “It was a little…unsettling. Bad.”

Charlotte’s inner bitch softened, the hard exterior melting. It was hard to forget that his experience was numbered. To two. God only knew how a woman could fuck up a blowjob, but she’d heard of stranger things.

“It’s going to be mind-blowing, and once you’ve had a good one, you’ll think twice about fucking married women. You’ll get them to blow you instead. See how much you’ll gain by allowing me to please you?”

He didn’t look convinced. “Is this something you’ve done before, for work? Isn’t that what spies do? Seduce people to get what they want?”

Though their job sometimes meant sexual favors had to be given to get information from a source, Chase knew Charlotte didn’t play. She’d kiss if she had to, but that was it. Those words made her feel dirty and cheap.

“What are you implying, Aaron? You’re the one that locked me in the closet with you, remember? I was sound asleep. You’ve admitted that you want me, and I offered you a blowjob so you won’t lie awake all night with a raging hard-on. I think that makes me a pretty damned nice person.”

“Would
you
enjoy it, though?”

“I would hope so,” she said, exasperated. “I’ve given quite a few, and they were all very enjoyable. Despite Jake’s assessment that I was hatched by dragons, I do like to please. It’s in my genetic makeup. Andersons are hard-wired to seduce women. I am hard-wired to please.”

“How many blowjobs have you given?”

“I don’t know. I don’t keep track.”

“To how many men?”

She sucked in a breath, and stood. Fucking judgmental bastard. She shot him a glare that usually made Jake quake. “You’re judging me, Aaron James Anderson, and you are basically trying to find out if I’m just a whore for your government.”

“Charlotte—”

“You want to play judgment day, Aaron?” The dragon in her awoke and she hoped Jake would forgive the carnage. If the punk lived, he’d be lucky.

“I don’t—”

“Oh, yes, you do. You implied I was a whore earlier tonight, because I was here instead of Jake’s wife. And yes, sitting on your lap and kissing you wasn’t ladylike, and perhaps I should apologize. But you were hard before I sat down, so don’t negate the sexual chemistry we share.”

“But I—”

“And you were rude to Jake. You’ve acted as his judge and jury for his wild ways, which ended when he met Tia.”

Aaron opened his mouth, and she smacked her hand under his chin to shut it. “If you want to live, shut it. Keep it shut. Do you understand?”

He nodded. Slowly. Terrified.

“Maybe becoming a man whore wasn’t the best solution to help Jake recover from his fiancé’s death, but that’s where he went. He is a good man, and you have no right to judge him for anything. Jake does everything hardcore, in case you haven’t noticed. And he went hardcore man whore, yes, because he was hurting just as much. But when he married Tia, he went hardcore married, and damn him for wanting the rest of the world to find happiness.”

“Protective, aren’t you.” He didn’t sound snide. It didn’t matter, though. She was on a roll, and he was toast.

“Yes, I am. He saved my life. Chase saved my life. If it weren’t for them, I wouldn’t be standing here, offering to do very fun things to a snotty punk. I owe them the world.”

“And what have you done with my brother?”

If the man didn’t make her wet and panting, she definitely would’ve killed him by now. Snapped his neck. Yes, his neck would be so warm in her hands. Thick. “You’re really going to ask that?”

“Yes. You’re awful cozy with him. I need to know.”

“So if I fucked Jake, you wouldn’t want me anymore.”

Aaron blinked, as if trying to sort out his thoughts. “I don’t know.”

“Fucking judgmental bastard. Get the baggage out, Aaron. You ready to weigh it in?”

He raised his chin, probably because it was a challenge. Andersons were like roosters. They didn’t back down from a fight, no matter how stupid. He didn’t look very confident, though. “Go for it.”

“How many women have you fucked, Aaron?”

“Two.”

“Yes, well, I’ve fucked one man, and he was my husband.”

She delighted in watching Aaron pale. And cringe.

“How many women have you kissed, Aaron?”

“I don’t know.”

“I’ve kissed five men, one woman, in this order—my husband, Jake, Chase, some bastard who wanted to kill me, and you. I’ve kissed Tia because I had to, again for work. Except for my husband, all of them were work-related. Including you. The wedding counts, because I was on duty.”

She swore she could hear his knees quake.

“I’ve blown one man—my husband. Sucking you didn’t count. Two men have felt me up intimately—again, my husband, and now you. How many women have you fondled and kissed for your job, Aaron? Your job and my job aren’t so far apart. But you kiss for money and I kiss because I might die.”

He closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath. “I’m sorry.”

“No, you’re not. You’re fucking judgmental, and the only reason why you are alive right now is because you are Jake’s brother. Unfortunately, my physical need for you overrides my need to kill you. At this moment. Be aware that status may change, and if it does, you are one dead, snotty punk.”

“You’re not serious about killing me.” Oh, he
still
wanted to win this, she could see it in his eyes. That stubborn streak wanted to come out on top.

“Oh, I am. I’ve killed a lot of men, Aaron. For less than what you’ve implied.”

He looked shell-shocked. “Were you always this…mean?”

“No.”

“I take it the blowjob is now off the table.”

“You’re a smart man.”

He closed his eyes, sighed, and the smug, cocky, judgmental attitude he had dished out before dissipated. He stood, embarrassed, ashamed, shoulders rolled, his eyes on his feet instead of her face. “I’m sorry.”

Yes, he would be very sorry. Charlotte assessed him, weighed his merits. If he were just a guy on the street, there’d be no scale of justice. He’d just be dead and bleeding out on the floor of his closet. After almost dying and losing everything that mattered to her, she no longer suffered fools gladly.

But he was Jake’s brother. He did have quite the crappy few years. From what Jake told her, he’d been a really good kid. Incredibly smart and gifted. Shy and awkward in the midst of four older, confident, ball-twisting brothers. It had to have destroyed a part of him to realize he’d chosen the wrong path in life, and that she understood. Maybe this anger was his way to shield himself from any more heartache. She got that.

But it was time to grow up. He would learn to submit to her, to give up his power, to be polite and gentle instead of angry. He would learn to channel that anger into pleasing her. And maybe eventually, he would be in control enough for her to trust him. For her to give him her reins and let him be in control.

She stood, stepped forward, and stabbed her finger into his hard chest. “You will be punished for this. If you wish to salvage any kind of a sexual relationship, you will pay. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

She glanced at his pants, deliciously tented. My, he was quite magnificent. “You’re still hard, aren’t you?”

“Yes.”

“You will go to bed and you will not jack off. Do you understand? The only orgasm you will get is from me. If I find out you’ve taken that pleasure from me, it’s over. And trust me, I will know.”

He flinched like she had hit him. “Jesus, that’s harsh.”

“
You
were harsh. You were an asshole, and I’m angry right now. So you will pay. You will go to bed, and you will think of how angry I am, and in the morning, you will apologize properly. To me and Jake. Do you understand?”

“Yes.” He sounded and looked about four. Glaring, mulish, his hands in balls. Oh, he’d have to get that out of his system mighty quickly if he wanted sex with her.

“Yes, what?”

“Yes…Ma’am?”

“Very good.”

Chapter Four

Aaron couldn’t say he woke the next morning, because he really hadn’t slept. Not with a raging hard-on that begged to be stroked and sucked by pink, mean lips. If he’d been less of an asshole to Charlotte, he could have had an excellent blowjob. His dick knew it would have been excellent. Hot. Wet. Suction. Tongue. His cock raged again and if it had a brain, it would have been pissed as hell at him.

He was an asshole. He didn’t think she was a whore or loose or anything like that. He’d been scared, and when he got scared, the filter left and stupidity flowed from his brain to his mouth unchecked. He wasn’t pure of thought, obedient, and he wasn’t one to think things through.

But the whole sex thing scared the crap out of him, thanks to Paul, his twin. His virginity had been taken by a kinky older sister of one of Paul’s freak friends when he was sixteen. Handcuffed to the bed, sucked off with her teeth, flogged, and then ridden into oblivion. It had been scary as hell.

It shouldn’t have been, but he was the chicken shit Anderson and everything scared him as a kid. And sex with Monica had definitely ruined him for another woman until Celia, and now Charlotte.

His virgin experience scared him enough to want to become a priest. Which was fucked up all on its own. But in his mind, at that time, if he was a priest, no one would have sex with him. Eventually, he figured out that God didn’t want him to be a priest for that very reason. After much soul searching and prayer, he realized he was an Anderson, plain and simple. He was hardwired for sex, and therefore, could not hide any longer.

That didn’t make leaving the seminary any easier. Nor did it make having sex any easier. Moving to L.A. had been hard, with all the beach beauties and starlets. It was like being in a bakery with gluten intolerance and wanting nothing more than to eat the whole store, but he was afraid of the pain. The thought of sex really did make him sick to his stomach at times.

But dancing with Charlotte had made him hornier than hell. And after going to England, he’d fooled around enough with Celia on the set to feel comfortable that she wouldn’t scare the shit out of him. The sex had been pretty fast, him on top, not much more than a boob grope because she’d been good to go. Too bad all he could think of was Charlotte.

Aaron didn’t get his attraction to Charlotte at all. She was…scary, in a different, aggressive way. But his cock jumped at the mere idea of smelling her again, holding her, kissing her. He could probably come if thought of her mouth on his cock, that one, decadent suck up his shaft. But she had said no orgasm. So…he didn’t go there.

His balls ached and he just wanted to kill Charlotte. Let her be trampled by unicorns and winged ponies and other girly shit she’d hate. Bury her in a pink, lacy, dolled-up coffin.

But then he remembered he was supposed to be repenting. Jake said she had baggage, so if she let him know that tidbit, then that was her carry-on bag. Tip of the iceberg so to speak.

She’d been married, had only slept with her husband. Somehow that man was gone from her life, and it was a source of pain for her. There had to be more. If he found that baggage, spinning on the carousel, would she let him carry it for a bit? And if he carried it, would he finally get to make love to her instead of fuck her?

Noises in the kitchen told him the houseguests were up, so he rose, went down to the bathroom to shower and brush his teeth in case she decided to blow him after he apologized. He was hard enough to try for real this time, even after a cold shower.

He hoped like hell he would do it right—apologize. He wanted to make her happy, because something told him that Charlotte needed to be happy.

Aaron padded in quietly. Charlotte perched on a stool at the breakfast bar, her back to him. She sipped coffee and rattled on to Jake in some language. Not English. Or French. Russian? Jake laughed and responded in the same language, and it was surreal. Jake had failed French in high school. Hadn’t he?

“Good morning, baby cowboy,” Jake said from the stove, in English. His brother was wearing
his
apron and cooking…pancakes?

“Since when do you cook?” Aaron eyed the pancakes. They actually looked good. “And fuck you. I’m no one’s baby.”

Charlotte gave him a cool glare over her shoulder and went back to sipping. Aaron had the distinct feeling he would not be welcomed at the breakfast bar. Not until he apologized.

Jake set a plate piled high with perfect pancakes on the counter. “Since Tia decided I needed to learn how not to burn food. She’s taught me breakfast and one dinner thing. Fettuccini Alfredo. It’s an improvement, she says. I’m to experiment with baking things from boxes while I’m here. Brownies and shit like that.”

“Tell Tia I love her,” Charlotte said.