Tempting Taylor (5 page)

He blinked. “I like variety. Classical, for instance.”

She groaned inwardly. “Opera?”

“Occasionally. What’s your point?”

“Clubs?”

“Health clubs? No. I have my own gym at home.”

She rolled her eyes. “Clubs, as in dancing.”

He grimaced in distaste. “Ear-splitting music? Crowded dance
floor with hundreds of gyrating people? No thanks.”

“It’s fun to go sometimes. Not every weekend, of course. I
like to dance,” she said defensively.

“Taylor—”

“Do you know what you’re doing at 2:30 next Thursday?”

“I’m a busy man with a full calendar. I’m sure there’s
something scheduled—”

“I don’t know what I’m doing tomorrow,” she interrupted. “There
are times when I like to do spur-of-the-moment things. I’m not the type to plan
my life down to the last minute. Which only proves my point.”

“And that is?” he asked patiently.

“We have absolutely nothing in common. Nothing,” she
emphasized. “I like to listen to Foo Fighters, Justin Timberlake, even Katy
Perry.”

His brow wrinkled. “Foo who?”

She smirked. “I rest my case.”

“Aside from the fact that our taste in music doesn’t exactly
converge and I like my life organized—believe me, not all of us have the luxury
of free time—all of that could of course be solved by compromise.”

“Compromise?” she echoed.

“Yes. Compromise. None of the things you’ve mentioned are an
absolute deal breaker.” He raised a hand and gently drew her hair away from her
cheek. “So Taylor, tell me, what else have you got?”

“There’s the very simple reason that you’re not a friend,”
she blurted out.

Her pulse jumped when he slapped a palm on the fridge door,
caging her in. She clutched the salad dressing to her chest as if it were a
lifeline.

“I assume you were watching the game today, checking off
possible candidates?” he asked casually, as if they were talking about the
weather. As if their bodies weren’t nearly touching. As if her nipples weren’t
turning into two hard points that were just screaming for attention…

She didn’t answer. Couldn’t answer.

“Would I be correct in saying that none of those men out
there are ‘friends’ in the truest sense of the word, and that they are mere
acquaintances at best?”

“W-What’s your point?”

Cooper plucked the bottle from her unresisting hands and
placed it on the counter. He then took a half step closer, eliminating what
little space was left between them. “With that reasoning, I would say I am
definitely qualified. Don’t you agree?”

Taylor’s breath hitched in her throat and syrupy warmth
invaded her bones. This close, she could see lighter flecks in his gray eyes.
Oh no. She was in deep trouble here. Between her legs, a hot, sweet pulsing
began. Moisture gathered in her pussy. Her breasts felt heavy. It was an
arousal mirrored in Cooper’s face, in his body language. The air thickened and
became sexually charged.

He moved infinitesimally closer. His right hand tunneled
through her hair, tilting her head back. The protest she was about to say
lodged in her throat and remained unspoken at the heat in his gaze. Robbed of
speech, her thoughts in disarray, and arousal eating away at her sanity, Taylor
didn’t resist when he swooped in for a kiss.

It wasn’t a slow, get-to-know-you kind of kiss. Not the
tentative, this-is-our-first-kiss melding of lips. Oh no, not this man. He took
her lips and made them his, his tongue slipping inside without hesitation. The
kiss was confident, masterful, and damn it, she fell for it like a ton of
bricks. She moaned softly and did as he silently commanded, opening her mouth
wider and tangling her tongue with his.

Fire licked at her skin. His big hands grabbed her hips and
hauled her closer, plastering them together from the chest down.

She was in deep, deep trouble…

Kissing Taylor Sanders felt so damn good that he didn’t want
to stop. Cooper smothered a groan and pulled her closer, holding her against
him tightly. The taste of the kiss exploded in his head, further blurring
logical thought and blocking out everything else. Getting her alone in the
kitchen had been an opportunity he couldn’t waste. Every time he came close,
she skittered away, nervous and scared. Overhearing her disqualifying him from
being a friend with benefits had only strengthened his resolve to get her alone
to himself. Just the thought of her with another man was enough to drive him
insane. He didn’t bother questioning his reaction. Taylor had affected him like
no other woman from the first time they’d met and he’d be damned if he stood
off to the side and watched her pick somebody else to be her lover.

Restlessly, his hands roamed her back, homing in on her ass,
cupping the globes and hauling her even closer. Unable to help himself, he
ground her against his hard cock, hating the layer of clothes that separated them.
All he wanted to do was slip his cock inside her and pound his way to heaven.

Jesus. When was the last time he’d felt this way? He
couldn’t remember ever feeling this screaming, absolutely uncivilized urgency
that was eating away at his sanity, urging him to behave like a caveman and
drag her off somewhere and fuck her six ways to Sunday.

Cooper broke the kiss and traced the line of her graceful
neck, nipping along the way, alternately nuzzling and sucking the soft skin he
found at the base of her throat. She gripped his arms tightly, her head thrown
back, her lips parted soundlessly. Buoyed by her response, he fingered the
strap of her dress and pushed it down impatiently, needing skin on skin,
seeking and finding her breast.

He exhaled sharply when he cupped one in his palm. Her
breast wasn’t small but not too big—it fit perfectly in his hand, crowned by a
tight pale nipple that begged to be sucked.

And he did.

He leaned down and pulled her soft, supple flesh into his
mouth and nearly lost all control. All the blood seemed to drain from his head
and pool in his cock, filling it near to bursting. It strained against the
zipper of his jeans, demanding to be let out and be part of what was happening.

Dimly Cooper heard Taylor moan, spurring him on to suck
harder. Her fingers plunged in his hair and pulled him closer. He knew he was
hardly being gentle, but she was with him every step of the way and didn’t
protest or tell him to stop.

Wanting the taste of her lips again, he reluctantly let go
her breast and reached up to kiss her. Her lips were so soft and so damned
kissable. He ran his tongue over her lower lip, tenderly biting down, slowing
the pace. Lingering. Savoring. She whimpered in protest and tried to get him to
deepen the contact with sexy licks of her tongue. The action ramped up his
arousal, but he didn’t give in. Instead, he teased her with short, wet contact
and drove himself crazy in the process.

He pushed her dress up over her thighs, skimming the silky
skin, searching and finding the spot between her legs. A groan escaped his lips
when he skirted the edge of her lacy panties with his fingers. Breathing
heavily, he leaned back. “Look at me, Taylor.”

Her eyes fluttered open, the dark-green orbs slumberous. He
plunged a finger into the wetness of her pussy. She was so tight. He could only
imagine how it would be to have his cock buried deep inside her. Her eyes
glazed over, and he barely restrained himself from unzipping and plunging into
her wet heat.

“Tell me again I don’t qualify. Deny this.” He thumbed her
clit, nudging the sensitive bundle of nerves.

She shuddered and her head fell on his shoulder. She uttered
something he didn’t hear.

The fragrant skin of her neck beckoned once more, and he
gave in to the urge and sucked. Marking her as his. He didn’t question the
surge of possessiveness that threatened to choke him. It was new and
unfamiliar, but undeniable. He wanted to post a “hands off” sign for every
other man to see. From the first day he’d met Taylor, nothing had gone the way
he expected it to. Everything he felt about her was too strong. He wanted her
with an intensity that grew stronger every day, until it couldn’t be denied any
longer. It had been twelve long fucking months of hell, walking around with a
boner that wouldn’t go away, a need that wasn’t relieved by jacking himself off
thinking about her. It was galling at first when no other woman held his
interest for long. He always found them lacking. Their eyes weren’t as green as
Taylor’s. Their hair wasn’t that interesting shade of red mixed with blonde.
He’d never been partial to redheads, but Taylor Sanders had been the star of
his fantasies. She drove him crazy with wanting her.

She pulled away. He loosened his hold but he refused to let
her go, unable to relinquish the advantage he’d just gained. Taylor Sanders
wanted him. That much was undeniable.

“I want you.”

Her eyes widened, the pupils still dark with arousal.

“I don’t do pretty words. I’m not going to sugarcoat it. I
want to fuck you. So bad that it’s eating away at me. Right now I’m this close
to putting my cock inside you and to hell with everything.”

Taylor’s heart was pounding so hard she was afraid it was
going to jump out of her chest. It took her a moment to recover her wits. The
words he used were crude, but strangely enough, she didn’t recoil from hearing
them. If anything, they intensified the arousal coursing through her veins.
Somehow she’d always suspected that underneath the outer trappings of wealth
and refinement there was a rough edge to Cooper. She blinked, hungry and, damn
it, unfulfilled. Ignoring the tight ball of need that parked itself in her
lower belly, she bowed her head. “This can’t happen between us.”

His erection was a potent force nudging the “v” of her
thighs. “Look at me and tell me that to my face.”

A shudder tore through her. “Y-You agreed to an interview.
How can I do that with professionalism when…when—”

“When you want me?”

“This still can’t happen between us.” All her senses
screamed in protest but she ignored them.

“Because?”

“Because my interview with you is very important to me and
to the e-zine,” she choked out, wincing at the unsteadiness in her voice. How
the hell was she supposed to talk with his erection rubbing intimately against
her pussy, maintaining the maddening contact that made a mockery of her words?
“I do not want to be the subject of nasty gossip. I don’t want any hint of
unprofessionalism whatsoever when I write the article.”

Cooper’s jaw tightened. “And the interview matters that
much?”

She pulled in a shaky breath. “Yes it does.” Taylor
regretted saying so, even though it was the truth.

He closed his eyes and buried his face in her neck. After a
moment, he gave her a hard kiss. The breath left her lungs in a rush, and her
toes curled. “Get your fucking questions ready, Taylor. Next time we see each
other, we’ll get this interview over with. That’s the only chance you’ll get.”

He released her. Feeling bereft, Taylor slumped against the
refrigerator, boneless and weak. Cooper turned back to her once more, his hand
on the doorknob. “And Taylor? Forget the friends-with-benefits idea. No one
else but me.”

Then he left.

* * * * *

Several days later, Taylor was still smarting from Cooper’s
arrogance. “Forget the friend-with-benefits idea,” she snickered under her
breath. “No one else but me,” she said with a huff. He was that sure of her?

Well, if she were being honest with herself, her response to
him had made it pretty obvious that there was serious physical attraction going
on between them.
Serious? More like explosive.
She could honestly say
that she’d never been turned-on as fast as when she’d been with him, and that
in itself was pretty damn scary.

Something on the television in the far corner of her office
caught her eye. The cameras showed Cooper, surrounded by reporters jostling for
position. Picking up the remote control, she turned up the volume and listened
to the reporter state that Bettina Hathaway’s claims against Cooper for fraud
and irregularity in acquiring the publishing company had been dismissed. The
camera focused on Cooper standing behind his lawyer, sunglasses shading his
eyes. She grimaced as reporters kept on trying to address their questions to
him, which he steadfastly ignored.

The press trailed after Cooper as he made his way to a
waiting car, the cameras panning to show the vehicle pulling away from the
crowd. The reporter came back into view, breathlessly summarizing the morning’s
activities, ending with a little tidbit about Cooper being named the most
eligible bachelor of the year.

She sighed. His was a life she didn’t envy. Always under the
microscope, living in a fishbowl. It was the kind of chaotic existence that she
had briefly experienced as a young girl. One she didn’t want to ever repeat.
The nightmare of having her life dissected in the papers, every juicy detail
exposed, was unthinkable. Getting involved with Cooper would expose her to
intense scrutiny. The press followed his every move and she wanted none of
that. She would much rather write about the news than be the news.

Her cell phone buzzed. Turning away from the TV, she clicked
on the text message.

I hope you have all your questions ready. C.

Cooper? She typed a response.
How did you get my number?

No more than a minute later, his reply came through.
I
may have persuaded Emily to give it to me.

With a little huff, she texted,
Persuaded
?

His answer was quick to arrive.
I can be quite charming
when the occasion calls for it.

No doubt
, she typed and hit send.

How about dinner tonight?

What, like a date?

Let’s get this interview over with. Then on to more
important things.