Too Goode to be True (Love Hashtagged #2) (2 page)

“Now you've taken the glamour out of it, I'm not sure I'll ever look at a teddy the same way again.” Gwen slid into the easy banter with little hesitation. She might have been offended by the blatant nature of Brad’s words, but he didn't seem to be doing it as an excuse, to talk about women's underwear.

“Don't get me wrong.” Each time he looked her over, delicious shivers skipped over her skin. “The right woman looks amazing in lace or denim. The models I work with aren't the right ones for me. You'd be stunning in either.”

She gave an embarrassed laugh. “Are you trying to get me in bed or sell me a bra?”

“Don’t make me pick. Wait—do I get to watch you try on the bras?”

She didn't know why she put up with the lines. Each was a step bolder and more direct than the last. Fun conversation for two people who were already intimate, and the kind of thing she'd get irritated with a stranger for saying.

With him, she enjoyed it. It didn’t hurt that he was hot. And yeah, that meant she was superficial and objectifying him, but she also enjoyed how natural the teasing felt. “Doesn’t one lead to the other in that case?”

“Only if I'm lucky.” He waved a waitress over. “Tonic with a wedge of lime for me, and whatever my lovely companion would like.”

Gwen gave the woman a smile, relieved she wasn't the only one not drinking. “Diet Coke.”

As soon as the waitress was gone, Brad turned back to Gwen. “So, Marie, if that is your real name…”

She was amused to have her own line thrown back at her. Now that she thought about it, she wasn’t sure why she’d given him a fake name. Or rather, she knew why, but her reasons seemed a bit silly. She’d tell a date, whether they met in a bar or anywhere else. “Technically, it is.”

A smiled tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Technically? A middle name, then.”

“What gave me away?”

“That you don’t answer to it. What can I call you instead?”

She’d have to work on that if she ever did the fake-name thing again. “Gwen. Do I still call you Brad?”

“Also a middle name, but it’s the one I go by. It's a pleasure to meet you, Gwen. I feel like this has all been about me.” For the second time that evening, he extended his hand, and she was happy for another chance to feel his warm skin, even if it was only palm-to-palm contact. “What do you do for a living?”

Wow. What was up with her? She shouldn’t be ready to rip off her panties for the guy because he was hot and flirty.

She did a lot of things. Technically, the diner paid the bills. Or rather, it would if it weren’t for her trust fund. That didn’t sound nearly as fun as
lingerie sales
though. “I’m a romance blogger.”

His eyes widened. “Then you're an expert on dating. Do I meet the cut?”

“I’m far from being an expert; I just like to share my opinion. But so far you’re doing better than most.”

“Does that mean I’m just an experiment? Another story for the blog?” His question held curiosity instead of any sort of concern.

“I never go into an evening expecting to make it blog fodder. Believe it or not, I’d rather just enjoy the night.”

The waitress returned with their drinks, and Brad ignored his, attention never leaving Gwen. “If you make a living at it, you’ve monetized. Tell me if you’re not in the mood to talk shop, but drawing people who spend money to websites kind of fascinates me. How did you go about it?”

“I don’t mind
talking shop
but it’s not really… sexy.” Especially if he started asking for details about her site. Not that she wrote up all her dates. For instance, this one was going far too smoothly to be interesting to her readers.

“No? The term
monetization
doesn’t slide over your skin like an experienced lover’s caress?”

The way he said it, it almost did. “Not so much.”

“It can’t be all bad. Come on. What’s the best thing you’ve ever been paid to advertise?”

Gwen stowed the first answer that popped into her head. Even if she weren’t trying to keep some details of her life to herself, she knew what kind of impression the response would give. Then again… Despite her intentions, she hadn’t held back so far. “That depends on if you want the answer I’d give polite company or the truth.”

“The truth. Especially after a comment like that.”

Temptation pushed the reply to her lips. They’d already talked about porn and push-up bras. “Reviewing sex toys.”

He let out a short laugh. “You’re serious.”

“I am. If I’m going to advertise something on my site, I want it to be a product I can endorse.” Maybe that was too much information.

“If you’re going to work, you might as well love it.”

She’d expected a response like,
Why play with toys when I can give you the real thing?
Or,
I’ve got your nine inches right here, baby.
He wasn’t that guy, though. Maybe when she got home, she’d have to write up a blog post about how not all dates were disasters after all. Who knew, taking the stress of a relationship prospect out of a hookup could make things go more smoothly? Or it could be, it was only him.

Which left her with a new conundrum. She was enjoying his company enough after only a few minutes, that she didn’t look forward to ending it all with,
thanks for the fuck, have a nice life.
Well, the first part she wouldn’t mind.

“I have a confession to make.” His shift in tone startled her back to the now, and a sour pit nudged her gut.

“Oh?” She should have known he was too good to be true.

He gave her a sheepish smile. “I’m not actually from out of town. Sometimes with work and travel it feels like it, but when I said I was flying in today, and you made some assumption, it was easier to go with that then tell you the truth. I guess you’re not the only one protecting your personal life, Gwen Marie.”

She felt some of the tension drain away but not all. It wasn’t a big confession, and his reasons for it made sense, but if that lie came so easily… Besides, it meant he was local. In a city of two-million, she might never run into him again, but the odds had just increased. She didn’t know if she was upset or relieved. “I guess there are worse things you could be hiding.” She kept her tone light and playful. “Like a third arm under your jacket.”

He chuckled. “Not even a third leg.”

Heat flooded her cheeks, along with images and fantasies about how well hung he might actually be. “Which is good. I don’t think I’d know what to do with something like that.”

“You’re a smart woman; you’d figure it out. Write it up as your toy of the week on your site?”

“I just might.”

*

As the night sped past, the conversation grew racier, and Brad was great with that. Gwen spent more time laughing and smiling than not. He liked the way that looked. When she flushed, the pink spread down her neck, and when she leaned in and fiddled with her collar, she drove his gaze to her cleavage and the curve of her breasts.

God, he wanted to pin her to the wall, trail his fingers along her entire body, and find out if her moans were as enticing as her laugh. Too bad she didn't seem in a hurry to go somewhere more private. He was enjoying her company, but the night wouldn't last forever, and he wanted a taste of her before their meeting came to an end, if she was willing.

Maybe she needed a nudge. “Do you want to get out of here?” he asked

“Is that your version of,
Can I show you the carpet in my condo
?”

“Actually, I was hoping to spend more time in bed than on the floor. Rug burns are an acquired kink.”

Another laugh, but this time she pulled her gaze from his. She tapped the edge of her glass with her fingernails. “I, uh…”

That wasn’t the answer he expected. “I was looking for a little more enthusiasm.”

“Part of me would really love to. The rest of me keeps saying I don’t know you.”

He raised his brows. “That’s the point. Random encounter, barely more than names exchanged.”

“Except we did exchange more than that, didn’t we? Unless you’re an Oscar-level actor, you had as much fun as I did.”

Fuck. He didn’t know what bothered him more—the logic, or knowing what she was saying and agreeing to a point. “So, you’re hesitating because you don’t know me, and at the same time because you’re starting to know me too well.”

Her mouth twisted into an apologetic smile. “Screwed up, I know. I didn’t walk in here with the goal of being a cock tease; I promise.”

He couldn’t hide his cringe at the term. “Do me a favor and don’t say that again.”

“Cock tease?”

“Yes. It implies you owe me something because you showed up. I don’t ever assume that.”

She shook her head, tiny smile playing on her lips. “Why’d you have to be a decent person? You couldn’t have simply ruined the evening and let me leave without any doubt?”

“Sorry to disappoint.” He winked. He stood and extended his hand. “At least let me walk you to your car.”

A jolt of heat raced through him when her palm nestled in his, and he swallowed back desire that mingled with disappointment, as they made their way outside. He was surprised when they stopped next to a high-end BMW convertible. “This is me.” She nodded at the car.

“If I had insecurities, a car like that might trigger them. Flashier than mine, for sure.”

She turned to face him, fingers still intertwined with his. “So you’re secure enough in your”—she gave a fake cough—“masculinity that you don’t have to overcompensate?”

“You could say that.” It took the last of his willpower not to press closer and let her frame mold to his. “Tonight would have been amazing if you’d said
yes
.”

“Now you’re being arrogant.”

“I meant for me. Though, if I did my job, you’d have fun too. You know, simple stuff. Explored every inch of you until you couldn’t do more than gasp. Fucked you until you couldn’t stand.”

She caught her bottom lip between her teeth. “And you’re humble, on top of everything else.” Teasing laced her sarcasm.

“Not really. If you’ve reviewed the right toys, you could get the same thing at home but without my ego.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” She reached back to grab the handle, but didn’t open the door. “And I really did have a lot of fun tonight. I’m sorry I couldn’t be what you were looking for.”

She was better than he expected; that was the problem. His cock strained against his slacks, and his mind jumped ahead to the types of fantasies he’d entertain tonight since she wouldn’t be there. “Me too. And maybe next time we’ll get to the fucking you until you can’t think straight.” He didn’t mean to say that. Still, she had yet to slap him, and he was going to enjoy this for all it was worth.

“Next time, huh?”

“A guy can hope. May I at least have a good night kiss?”

“I don’t think I’ve been asked that since I was in high school.”

“Is that a yes?”

She nodded. He cradled her cheeks between his palms, her flush searing his skin, and brushed his mouth over hers. When she parted her lips with a gasp, he knew this had been a mistake. A surge of desire broke past the dam he’d built around it. His senses flared to life, dining on the soft flowery scent on her skin, drinking in her quiet sigh, and starving for another taste. He drove his tongue into her mouth, and she melted against him, digging her fingers into his chest. Every time she whimpered or shifted her weight or pushed closer to him, his erection threatened to pop his zipper.

When she brushed her hip against his cock, he broke away and sucked in a tight breath between his teeth. “I should let you go.”

She adjusted her position again, settling more pressure on his dick and stealing the last of the blood from his head. She looked up at him, eyes wide and anything but innocent. “Is it too late to take back my
no
?”

He had no more witty retorts or less-than-veiled innuendo. “It’s definitely not too late.” He tangled his fingers in her hair, tugged her head back, and crushed his mouth to hers again. Need told him to push her onto the hood of the car, push her dress over her hips, and drive inside her right now. He was surprised at both the hunger and the fact he had enough reason left to know fucking her in the hotel parking lot, with people still coming and going for the evening, wasn’t the smartest idea.

When they broke apart again, she gasped. “You place?” Her question was breathy.

“My place.”

Something in the back of Gwen’s mind whispered Brad had to be making a lot more money than she ever realized lingerie sales yielded. The condo was wrought iron, glass, and polished granite, and the loft that led to the master bedroom and overlooked the living room was huge and gorgeous.

Her initial impression and awe scuttled away when he jerked her head back, and kissed her hard. Saying she liked the way it felt was the understatement of the decade.

He grazed his teeth along her throat, breath hot against her skin when he spoke. “Where to start with you?”

“You haven’t started yet?.” Her tiny laugh faded into a moan, when he sucked on the soft skin where her neck met her shoulder.

He pulled away enough to study her at arm’s length. She might have protested the loss of full-body contact, but every time he looked her over, her nerve endings ignited. “Take off your dress.” The hunger and desire in his gaze danced along her arms, over her chest, and through her entire frame.

She worked her jaw up and down. The command in his tone gripped her like a vice and filled her with a new type of anticipation. She didn’t like being ordered around, though. “If you wanted to watch, you could have downloaded porn.”

The corner of his mouth tugged up, and he led her toward the sofa in the sitting area of the loft. Hands on her hips, he set her facing the couch. When he kissed along the back of her neck, she tilted her head and leaned into him.

“I don’t want to watch porn.” A current cut through his words, unwavering and confident. “I want to watch you. Gorgeous, assured, and here because you want to be, not because it’s a job.” He drew his fingers up her sides, along her ribs, and under her breasts. “I want to drink in your body and see you, unedited, bare, and for my eyes only.”

She bit the inside of her cheek, swallowing a groan at the combination of his light touch, and the thrill his words summoned. Need unfurled in her belly. He dragged her zipper down, and then his ministrations stopped. He moved in front of her again, dropped onto the couch, and studied her. “Take off your dress.”

Dampness pooled between her legs at the attention. She slid the straps down her shoulders, and he drank in every movement with his gaze. She wiggled her hips, to let the fitted black knit fall to the floor, and he followed its path before looking back at her.

“Are the matching panties and bra for me?”

“Of course. The point was to get laid.” She forced the teasing and bravado into her retort. Not because she didn’t feel it—she was enjoying this more than a lot of fantasies—but standing in front of him, bathing in his attention in nothing but her heels, stockings, and lace, stole her breath and fuzzed her reason.

“That’s what I like about this.” He loosened his tie. “You’re not baring it for the cameras. This is private.”

She’d met a lot of guys who liked a show. Voyeurs who wanted to watch… until they decided to touch. Something about this was different, though. More intimate. “I’ve never been a take-it-off-for-show kind of girl.”

“No? No exhibitionism in you at all?” He shifted his position and adjusted his slacks, always watching her.

She shrugged, still not comfortable standing all but naked in front of him. Except as the minutes ticked away, it was more because his attention turned her on. “The fantasy is nice, but if I’m with someone, I want them with me. I guess that doesn’t make sense.”

“It makes perfect sense.” His smooth tone washed over her. “You want to be enjoyed for being you, not because they’re looking to fill a hole—take that however you want.”

It was crude and direct, and it should have been insulting, except it was exactly right. “Yes.”

“I’m here for you, not some random girl.” He slid his hand higher on his thigh, to rest it beneath a noticeable bulge. “And fuck, I like who I see. So my seductive muse, if I asked you to strip out of your bra, push your panties to the ground, and enjoy yourself while I watch, would you?”

The suggestion pushed her from damp to wet in a flash. She didn’t expect her reaction, but the idea wouldn’t leave now that he’d planted it. “Yes.”

“You’re sure? You wouldn’t fake it, would you?”

His words from earlier came rushing back. About the way lingerie shoots and porn lost their charm once someone saw behind the scenes. What he wanted, and the reason she ached to give it to him. “Never.” This wasn’t a show. Not in the sense that she’d perform. This was all real.

“Good. Are your nipples sensitive?”

She licked her lips, mouth dry. “Yes.”

“Take off your bra and play with them. Make yourself moan—really moan, not some phony sighing.”

She unclasped her bra and let it slide down her arms. Part of her said to make it sexy, to do a little striptease, but that wasn’t the point. Her nipples were already hard nubs, dark brown and swollen, aching to be stroked. She cupped her breasts and dragged her thumbs over the buds. An involuntary gasp tore from her throat. When he yanked down his zipper and worked his cock free, a pulse throbbed through her. She pinched harder, gasping at her own touch. It wasn’t enough though. Her pussy ached for attention. If this was about enjoying herself, she was going to do exactly that. Still twisting and pulling with one hand, she slid the other down her stomach and under her panties. Her fingers were coated in an instant.

He stroked himself slowly, grip loose. “That’s not fair.” He studied her with hooded eyes. “I want to watch.”

She smirked at the playfully wounded tone. Each time he pumped his shaft, a rush flooded her. She’d never before cared much for watching a guy, but something about this was different. He jerked off because she was her, not because she was
a hole
. She hooked her thumbs in the elastic of her underwear and stripped off the clothing.

“Fuck.” His groan drove through her, intertwining with the moment and heightening her arousal. “I can’t do this.”

“Excuse me?”

He crooked his finger, gesturing her closer. “I can’t just watch. I need to touch you.”

That was profoundly better than the alternative. She sashayed her hips as she closed the distance between them, straddled his legs, and draped his arms around his neck. “Better.”

“Damn straight.” He brushed his thumbs over her nipples.

She moaned at the new rush of pleasure and pressed into him. He glided his hand down her stomach and parted her folds with his fingers. “Christ, you’re wet.”

She slid against him. When he found her clit, she arched her back. “Right there.”

“I love that you know what you like.” He kissed along her collarbone and grazed her shoulder with his teeth. He traced circles around her sex, drawing back each time she thrust into his touch. He teased and caressed her to the point where her head was light and her breath short. When she thought she couldn’t take more teasing, he zeroed in on the center of her arousal, fingering her and bumping her clit until orgasm spilled through her.

“I want you inside me,” she breathed into his ear.

“I like the sound of that.” He guided her hand lower. “Back pocket, condom in my wallet.”

She tried to drag out the moment, sliding her hand along his body and tearing open the foil package. He closed his eyes when she rolled the rubber onto his cock. She positioned the head near her opening, and teased it along her slit.

He covered her hand with his, pushed his erection toward her opening, and thrust inside to the hilt. She cried out at the sting of being stretched so wide, so fast. Amazing. She rocked slowly against him, but he set a faster pace. “You feel too good. I’m not going to last long.”

“I don’t care.”

As if her words gave him permission, he dug his fingers into her thighs. His grip, combined with the way he hit something deep inside every time he thrust into her, pushed her toward orgasm again quickly. Whimpers tore from her throat, as she rode him.

He squeezed her legs harder, and his breathing became punctuated grunts. “Fuck.” He pounded hard and furious, until he came with a shudder.

When he relaxed his grip, she leaned into him and rested her head on his shoulder. “So glad I changed my mind.”

His chuckle rocked through her cheek. “Me too.”

****

In her semi-conscious state, Gwen was sure of two things—this wasn’t her house, and the arm wrapped around her waist wasn’t hers either. Brad held her close, chest pressed into her back and warm breath falling across her neck. She couldn’t ignore the twinge of regret this was only a one-time thing.

“Morning.” Brad kissed along her shoulder, and pleasant chills raced down her spine. “How’d you sleep?”

And there was a third thing she was certain of—the young voice carrying through the condo, screaming, “Daddy!” didn’t belong to anyone she knew.

“Fuck.” Brad’s mouth was hot against her skin. “My ex-wife and daughter, and they’re not supposed to be here. I’m sorry. I know this is a big thing for me to ask, given the nature of our relationship or lack thereof, but, back me up?”

“Sure.” Gwen had no idea what she was agreeing to. She’d need a few minutes to wrap her head around the fact she was lying naked in an almost-stranger’s bed, listening to two other people clomp around in his condo. She didn’t care for unexpected guests, though. Her brother and his kids did that too often for her liking. She’d play along for now.

“Thank you.” He pushed into a sitting position and helped her do the same. When he cupped her cheeks and crushed his mouth to hers, she remembered why she’d come home with him. A jolt spilled through her, sparking her awake faster than she expected. She groaned and leaned into him, digging her fingers into his chest as his tongue probed hers.

“For fuck’s sake.” A female voice—this one adult—sliced through the moment. She stood in a doorway that had been closed off from the rest of the world seconds earlier. “Drea is right downstairs. Put some clothes on.” The woman whirled away, and then paused and glanced over her shoulder. “Oh, and this is going to cost you.”

Gwen forced a sweet smile, rather than the snarl that tried to work itself out. Whatever Brad meant by
back me up
became more appealing each time the lady opened her mouth. It wasn’t only her words, but her tone and the way she turned her nose up in the air rather than meet Gwen’s gaze.

Brad stood, grabbing a robe and covering himself in a single fluid motion. “Gwen, this is my ex-wife, Emily. Emily, this is my fiancée.”

Gwen’s stomach dropped into her feet, but her smile never wavered. Fiancée? What the fuck?