Exposed by Fate (3 page)

“You misunderstand. Not being my type is a good thing.
You’re
a good thing.”

“Too good for you?”

Oliver slowly nodded.

Wow, he really was turning her down. She felt a wave of disappointment, along with another blow to her pride, but convinced herself his disinterest was for the best. What had possessed her? When he’d called her “too good,” he’d meant too green. Not sophisticated or experienced enough for his tastes. She couldn’t come up with another explanation for his reasoning. Maybe he was right…maybe she wasn’t cut out for this. Forcing herself to smile, Eliza stepped back, intending to retrieve her purse from the high, round table she’d been sitting at with Porter. “Never mind. I don’t know why I—”

“Wait.”

Chapter Three

Don’t do it, man.

Oh, but I really fucking want to.

Deciding to listen to the second voice, just for the moment, Oliver backed Eliza up enough that her sleek backside was wedged against the high stool beside the table. He bit back a groan when his heavy erection encountered her trim belly, her breasts pressing into his chest to swell over the top of her neckline. This shouldn’t be happening. He shouldn’t
finally
be crazy-as-hell to get inside a girl only to have it be his sister’s best friend. If they were one floor higher, he’d already be slipping her panties down her legs with one hand, unzipping his jeans with the other.

His commitment free lifestyle worked so well because he never got too personal with a woman. Sleeping with Eliza would get personal, whether she believed it would or not. He didn’t get to walk away from her, assuring himself they might never cross paths again. They would. Early and often. Especially if she decided she liked what he taught her and decided to become a regular at Serve.

Oh God, he was actually thinking about this little arrangement as if it might happen.

The very idea of being her instructor, rewarding her and punishing her according to his own rules, made him so hot he wasn’t sure he could turn down the opportunity. Regardless of the consequences. Already his hand flexed where it gripped her hip. He battled the urge not to drag her upstairs and start teaching her
now
, until Serve closed at four am. He’d have the pleasure of watching her discover what
she liked. Then he’d make her fucking love it. He knew instinctively she’d be perfect. Eager. Exquisite.

If he turned her down, an idea his body was vehemently rejecting, he also knew she’d find another way to learn. With Porter or another faceless man he suddenly wanted to roundhouse in the nuts. Yeah, he definitely disliked that idea. It surprised just how much.

Oliver watched as her attention became fixated on his mouth, her tongue moistening those tempting lips, an action so unintentionally seductive it made him want to curse and shout a prayer to the big guy upstairs at the same time. She wanted to be kissed and
damn
, did he want to oblige her. Brown eyes met his, questioning, a little confused. Perhaps because he’d said no to her proposition, in so many words, and seconds later he was pinning her against a chair with his rock hard cock.

Try not contradicting yourself, asshole.

Instead, he found his lips tracing the side of her neck. “Eliza, believe me, I would love to take you home and tear you out of that dress. We both know it’s a bad idea.”

She tilted her head, inviting him without words to lick, which he did.
Tastes delicious
. “Why do you make it sound so good, then?”

The husky tone of her voice made Oliver groan, his arousal surging higher in his pants. He pushed her backward a little more, forcing her up onto the seat, knowing the position would open her thighs enough to get his hips between them.
Sweet-fucking-Hallelujah
, it did. Nothing could stop him from rocking into the notch between her legs. Her gasp sounded like the sweetest kind of music next to his ear, so he did it again, his teeth clenching at the soft heat he encountered.

“What were you saying about a bad idea?”

“I don’t remember.” He nipped at her shoulder. “Refresh my memory.”

“I’d rather keep kissing.”

He growled. “Works for me, babe.”

This time, though, he wanted her mouth. He smoothed a thumb over her bottom lip, betraying his intention with his eyes. She whispered
yes
as he leaned in—

“Oliver! Oliver?”

Fuck. No. The Wedgie Queen had returned from the throne.

The singsong voice she used to call his name told him she hadn’t found him yet, but was searching for him in the crowd. He grabbed hold of a dazed-looking Eliza’s hand and dragged her off the chair, pulling her through the crowd toward the back exit.

“What are you doing?”

“I don’t want to know anything else about Gwyneth Paltrow’s blog.”

“God, me either. Walk faster.”

Oliver’s laugh sounded a little sad to his own ears. “Shit. I really like you, bunny.”

They passed the crowded bathrooms and pushed through the emergency exit, letting them out onto Jane Street, which was relatively quiet on a Sunday night. “Why did that sound like a bad thing?” she asked, only slightly out of breath.

“Because I want to do this.” Oliver pushed her up against the side of the brick building and brought his mouth down on top of hers. She didn’t hesitate or show an ounce of surprise, but curled her fingers around his collar and let him ravish her mouth, moaning in a way that made him wild. “And this.” He slipped a hand up the back of her dress and kneaded her bottom, giving it a firm slap when she bit and tugged his bottom lip. “And this.” He levered her off the ground with his hips, thrusting once, just so she could feel him. What she did to him.

Her breath escaped on a sob. “You can like me and still do those things, can’t you?”

“Fuck yes.” He licked into her mouth for a hot kiss. “It’s what comes after that worries me.”

“We know we won’t get attached,” she murmured. “It’ll stay between us.”

Oliver tried to reel himself back before he shoved her panties aside and nailed her against the side of the building. He commanded himself to think. Reason. Not an easy feat when most of his blood had rushed south and taken half his brain cells with it. She was his sister’s friend. A good girl. The kind of girl you brought home for Thanksgiving and who kept a toothbrush at your place
.
Usually those thoughts alone would be enough to send him diving into the nearest cab, holding up a cross and garlic cloves. Usually. But he couldn’t find the willpower to detach himself from her.

His partially opened mouth traced down over her neck and cleavage, turned on even more by the way her breasts rose and fell in shudders. For him. He brought his mouth to her right breast that, thanks to her arched position, threatened to spill from her dress. Her nipple pressed against the material, a hard little point he wanted in his mouth so bad, he groaned in frustration.

Might as well show her what she’s in for if I agree. If.
Oliver bared his teeth and bit her nipple through the material, watching her reaction. If he lived to be two hundred, he hoped he never forgot it, how she sounded, how she felt. Her legs tightened around his waist like a vise, and she yanked his head closer, gasping his name like a prayer. All in the space of three seconds. Oliver very nearly came in his jeans, which would have been a highly embarrassing first.

With unrivaled reluctance, he kissed back up her chest and neck to speak near her ear. “Let’s discuss terms.”

“Okay.”

She answered so quickly, he had to chuckle. “Eager girl.”

For some reason, those words seemed to draw her out of the moment, just a little. He started to tell her there was nothing wrong with eager. He
loved
her eager. But she beat him to the punch. “Three lessons, Oliver. Three. Any more than that and things will get—”

“Messy,” he finished for her, as if it were his idea.

She grinned. “I’m a very tidy person. You won’t even know I was there.”

“Are we still talking about the same thing?”

She blinked at him. “I’m going to house sit for you. Right?”

He tickled her ribs, making her squeal. “No jokes when we’re discussing terms.”

“Aw, you used to be fun.”

“I’m the most fun you’ve ever had.”

She wiggled her hips. “Tell me about it. Your
fun
is holding me two feet off the ground.”

Oliver swallowed a curse. One more tweak of her hips and he’d do it. He’d fuck her right here in public, in plain view of anyone who happened to walk past. “Eliza…” he warned her.

Her smile slipped a little. “You heard me, playboy. Three lessons. No mess.” She shook her head. “I won’t let it mean anything. You’re going to teach me how to rock Porter’s world. That’s where it ends.”

“Right.” Why the hell did that finally clear the fog of lust? With a stiff nod, he stepped back and let her slip to the ground. For the first time in his life, he straightened a woman’s clothing, not liking the amount of thigh she had exposed. How much sense did that make when a moment ago, he was getting ready to ring her bell on a public street? “Come over tomorrow after work. I’ll cook.”

Eliza did a double-take. “You’ll huh?”

“I’m useful for more than one thing, smart ass.” He whirled her toward the street. “Let’s get you a cab.”

“Wait. I have to go make an excuse to Porter.”

“I’ll take care of Porter.”

She glanced at him over her shoulder. “That sounds ominous.”

Oliver didn’t answer. He had to get her out of his sight soon, or he’d do something he regretted, like follow her into the cab and rattle off his own address. No, whatever shred of honor he had left needed to give her one full day to back out of the deal. She’d had a few drinks and the very least he could do is not take advantage. That would apparently start tomorrow.

Thankfully, a wave of cabs came down the block then, and he hailed the first one. “Text me when you get home.”

She rolled her eyes and ducked into the back seat. “See you tomorrow. I won’t back out, you know.”

A minute later, when Oliver realized he’d been staring after the long-gone cab, he shook himself and went back inside. His bed suddenly sounded incredibly appealing, but he’d told Eliza he would handle Porter first. Keeping an eye out for Wendy so he could avoid her, he skirted around the edge of the lounge toward the bar, where he immediately caught sight of the man. As if sensing Oliver, he looked up, then glanced behind him, obviously scanning for Eliza. Oliver tried to douse his irritation, but it wouldn’t go away. So when he finally reached Porter, fully intending to tell him Eliza had a family emergency, he said something else entirely.

“Stay away from her.”

Chapter Four

I kissed an Oliver, and I liked it.

Eliza kept the serene expression glued to her face as she listened to her boss wrap up their Monday morning board meeting. She hadn’t heard a damn word of it. Since waking up this morning, she’d been focused on her internal countdown ticker. Seven hours and thirty-three minutes to go until she actually commuted to her best friend’s womanizing brother’s house with the intention of getting busy. Just two consenting adults getting it on, passing on some good old BDSM know-how, nothing to see here. Moving right along.

Is it too early in the day for tequila?

She wouldn’t back out. She wouldn’t. Not after her confident parting shot last night. The plan was solid, she just had to remember that. When it came to men, she lacked any knowledge of what they liked. Hell, she didn’t know what
she
liked. No better person to find out with than resident sexpert Oliver. In a few short months, he probably wouldn’t even remember that their three little lessons had taken place. She’ll have faded into the whirlpool of women he swam in on a daily basis, and happily moved on. To Porter, or someone else.

If she enjoyed the sweet loving heck out of those lessons, well, could anyone blame her? As if she’d voiced the question aloud, Eliza glanced around at her female co-workers seated around the table.
No one has anything to say? Huh? I didn’t think so.

Most women her age had indulged their libidos at will. Throw in the fast-paced, chock-full-of-men city they lived in, and you could raise that percentage by double-digits. She’d had sex twice. Bad sex. In fact, bad was an under exaggeration. Her first time had been in the back of a Honda Accord, and the guy hadn’t even lasted through the end of, “Let’s Get it Started,” by the Black Eyed Peas. Ironic? Oh, yeah. The second time, she’d been on vacation visiting her mother in Maine for Christmas. She’d bumped into her old high school crush who now managed a Staples. They’d gone back to his apartment and had sex on his twin bed while she stared up at the Penthouse centerfold he’d taped to his ceiling.

She’d earned Oliver Preston, dammit. Just once, she’d like to know what all the fuss was about. Not just sex-wise, but Oliver-wise. What left all those women starry-eyed and clinging to his arm like a life preserver at the parties they’d attended together? Last night when he’d turned that smoldering interest on her, she’d seen her chance to find out. An introduction into what her body needed, what it craved. She’d find out if the fantasies she’d been having for years about being dominated had any merit, or if they were just her confused brain guessing what she wanted. But Eliza didn’t think so. The idea of being restrained, left to a man’s mercy…

Eliza shifted in her seat, managing an interested expression for her CEO, Regina, who was now detailing their plans for redesigning a hotel lobby in Soho. The project didn’t concern Eliza, since she worked on residential accounts exclusively, but she needed to keep an ear tuned to the presentation in case the topic changed. Not easy, when in addition to her nerves performing triple axels in her stomach, she also had an oversized case of best friend guilt. If Caroline knew her plans for the evening, she would shit monkeys. It had always gone unspoken between them that Oliver was off limits. Player or not, Caroline had always been protective of him, even though she was the younger sibling. Furthermore, they’d both eye-rolled their way through most of his girlfriends and his inability to keep one around, so Eliza’s plan would probably shock the hell out of Caroline.

Honestly, Eliza was a little shocked at
herself
. She’d always done things by the book. Followed social codes. Last night, with Oliver’s mouth on her neck and his erection pressing between her legs, her best friend had been the furthest thing from her mind. But after watching Caroline exist in a state of sexual bliss for the last month, she was ready for her own experience. Not that she was jealous, per se…

Okay, she was jealous. She wanted to walk to work glowing, memories of the previous night fresh in her head, her thighs sore from holding on tight.

Eliza fanned herself and tried to think of something else. Something safer. She allowed Porter’s image to materialize in her head, but it was quickly replaced by Oliver. A frown marred her forehead. Oliver would only be temporary, she had to remember that. She would design a bedroom around zebra print before falling into his stunned pile of sexually electrified women. Surely her nerves over the upcoming evening were the only reason his smiling face kept overshadowing Porter.

“All right, I’ve finished boring you all into a coma. Everyone is excused. And while you’re designing today, remember ‘form and function,’” Regina said, clapping her hands once. “Eliza, please remain behind. I need to speak with you.”

She tried not to let the horror show in her face when every head turned in her direction before exiting the room. Had she been too obvious in her daydreaming?

The door closed behind the final person, and Regina smiled. “Goodness, Eliza. When have you ever been in trouble?” When Eliza just looked at her blankly, Regina sighed. “You’re looking at me as if I’m a grade school principal.”

Eliza relaxed. “You’re far too well dressed for that.”

“Flattery will get you everywhere, my dear.”

They shared a laugh. As always, Eliza was thankful her boss didn’t rule the office with fear, instead treating every employee with respect and limiting her criticism. Morale at Rothman and Cower always remained high, and Eliza considered herself lucky she’d been hired by such a unique firm.

Regina settled into the seat beside her. “I want to preface this news by saying your work has always been excellent, but lately, you’ve really been putting us all to shame. So, knock it off.” She tried for a stern expression, but couldn’t contain her smile. “Kidding, kidding. As you know, the partners are attending a gala Saturday night. God knows which cause this time. Endangered owls or something? Anyway, it has come to my attention that Conrad Sterns will be in attendance. He has just purchased a thirty-room home in the Hamptons and needs a designer.”

Eliza sat up straighter in her seat. The name Conrad Sterns didn’t ring a bell, but if he’d just purchased such expensive real estate, he had to be important. Surely they weren’t considering her? She’d never done a job of that magnitude. “Only thirty rooms?” Eliza squeaked out.

Her boss giggle-snorted. “He’s young, Eliza. Just like you, he’s very cutting edge. We think you’d be the perfect candidate to approach him at the gala. You speak his language.”

She blew out a breath, excitement bubbling in her chest. “I don’t know what to say, except…let me at him.”

Regina held up her hand for a high five, which Eliza smacked soundly. “That’s what I like to hear.” She grew serious. “I don’t have to tell you that landing a job like this one would make you a shoo-in for junior partner, do I?”

Eliza gulped. “I think you just did.”

…

“Good morning, Mr. Preston,” a voice purred behind Oliver in the elevator.

He locked eyes with a pretty brunette in the steel doors and flashed her a winning smile. Had they met before? If so, he didn’t recall. His thoughts were interrupted when the elevator doors rolled open and another woman boarded, her heavily-applied perfume making his eyes tear.

“Mr. Preston,” the newcomer husked. “How was your weekend?”

He started to answer, but felt the brunette behind him sidle closer. “I could have made it better,” she whispered in his ear. “
Much
better.”

Christ, it was an ambush. Were they in cahoots?

The bell dinged above him, signaling they had reached the floor for
Preston’s ReVAMPed
. He barely resisted a shout of hallelujah as he lunged from the elevator. Still, being rude wasn’t his thing. Before the doors could roll closed, Oliver turned. “You girls behave today,” he murmured, adding a wink for good measure.

The doors closed on a round of sighs.

Minutes later, he avoided his sister’s gaze as she took her seat across from him at the conference table, focusing instead on making last minute notes before the meeting. Eliza hadn’t called to back out of their arrangement yet, and strangely, he’d woken up this morning hoping like hell she wouldn’t. It might have had something to do with the epically painful wood he’d woken with, fresh from an erotic dream starring
guess who
. However, the sexy blonde who’d kept him awake most of last night wasn’t required to sit across from Caroline, taking a guilt bath this morning. He had the pleasure of doing it for the both of them, didn’t he?

Christ, she was going to be worth it.

“Should we start?” Caroline asked, grinning from ear to ear. Come to think of it, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen her
without
a smile. She’d always been a positive person, but lately she was Suzy-fucking-Sunshine. Not that he minded. He loved seeing his sister happy. It just gave him the uncomfortable feeling his own life was sorely lacking. “Lots on the agenda today.”

“Ready in this corner,” Asher Laurie answered, to his right. His alternative lifestyle publication had merged with their finance side, creating their BDSM/money matters hybrid,
Preston’s ReVAMPed
. Asher worked as editorial director for the
ReVAMPed
side of the magazine, while Caroline continued to focus mostly on the finance end. They had clear-cut, defined roles whereas Oliver tended to dabble on both sides. He also brought in money, advertising, stirred up interest. The staff referred to him as their mascot, which made everyone laugh, but lately had been getting under his skin.

“Great.” Caroline flipped open the folder in front of her. “Let’s start with the
VAMP
side.
Asher, I read the article you submitted Friday. What was the title?” Caroline shifted through some paperwork. “‘Are you taking part in BDSM and don’t even know it?’” She leaned back in her chair. “I think we should run it as the cover story. It has the exact tone we’re looking for to attract the new readership. It’s fun and accessible. Oliver, what do you think?”

He nodded. “I read it, too, and was going to make the same suggestion. For someone who might be intimidated by the idea, it’s an invitation to pick up the magazine. I say we run with it.”

His sister smiled. “Great. We’ll need an eye-catching graphic to go along with it. Asher, can you handle that end? We’ll need it by Wednesday.”

Asher made a note. “On it.”

Caroline hummed in her throat. “If we’re going to cater to beginners with the cover story, we need something inside for established readers to keep a balance.” She split a look between Oliver and Asher. “Any suggestions?”

Asher consulted his notes. “One of the new writers was working on an article about switching places. Dominants becoming submissives, whether for a short period of time or permanently. I can check on the status.”

“Yes. Find out and get back to me.” Caroline tapped her pen against her lips. “It might be interesting to run a poll on the website and include it with the article. ‘Do you and your partner exchange power?’ Something along those lines.”

“I’ll make a quick call and have it up by this morning,” Oliver said.

They talked for a while longer about articles in various stages of research. Oliver discussed possible ways to attract new advertisers selling cutting edge products that would interest the gadget savvy businessman. Yes, they were focused on finance and sex, but it didn’t mean they should overlook technology. Caroline and Asher agreed to incorporate that aspect into future features.

When the meeting began wrapping up, Caroline leaned forward on her elbows. “Is there anything else before we end the meeting?”

“There is one thing.” Oliver shifted in his seat. “This is a side project I’ve been working on. It concerns all of us, and I wanted to get your opinions.”

Asher ran a hand over his graying hair. “The last time you had a side project, Preston’s new tagline became
Bonds and Bondage
.”

Knowing Asher’s comment was meant to be good-natured, Oliver laughed it off.

Caroline crossed her arms. “I still think that tagline is brilliant.”

His sister’s unwavering confidence in him usually made him feel ten feet tall. Today, with plans to debauch her best friend come the evening, he felt like a class-A jackass. With an effort, he pushed aside the guilt. He had something important that needed discussing and now was the moment. “I’ve been working on setting up a memorial fund in mom’s name.” When Caroline fell back in her chair, obviously surprised, he tugged on his collar and pushed on. “She never went to college and always regretted it. There are so many women who don’t have the opportunity, either. Why not send them in mom’s name?”

When Caroline spoke, her eyes were noticeably damp. “I think it’s an amazing idea, Oliver.”

“I’m all for keeping the magazine respectable, community-oriented. This is a great way to accomplish that.” Asher uncapped his pen and turned to a fresh sheet of notebook paper. “Have you worked out the financial end?”

“Down to the last penny.” Oliver removed two proposals from his briefcase and slid them into the center of the conference table where Caroline and Asher each grabbed one. “I thought we should keep it local, since mom grew up here. I’ve already spoken with a handful of universities in the area who have had to reduce scholarships due to lack of federal funding. I’m going through those rejected applications as we speak.”