Breathless (The ABCs of Love Book 2) Read online

  “Come in,” I say.

  “You haven’t changed your mind?”

  “I’m a big girl. I know what I’m doing.” I know what I want and I want it now.

  I step aside as he walks in, then I close the door behind him. Once again, he just stands there like he has no clue how to get a girl to drop her panties. He’s looking around my apartment with its framed prints of Japan, Morocco, France, and Iceland on the white walls. I’ve decorated my utilitarian couch with beaded pillows and the coffee table with tiny Asian sculptures that I knew wouldn’t sell in The Curio Cupboard, so I gladly ordered them for myself.

  “Gee, Barry.” I sidle up to him. “First time?”

  “For what? Going behind my best friend and business partner’s back?”

  Is there some guilt in his voice? I’m not sure, because when he turns to me, he doesn’t look a bit guilty. In fact, he looks pretty damned hungry as he brushes a lazy gaze from my head to my toes. Heat scratches through me like something rough and ready, and I hold my breath.

  Then I let it out, and the lack of oxygen makes me giddy. “Nobody’s ever going to find out.”

  The blood rushes through me even faster. My pulse is galloping.

  “You’re drunk,” he says.

  “Not even close. And even if I were drunk, you’d probably tell me that my decision-making skills are on par with my sober ones, so what’s the difference?”

  His gaze keeps eating me up, lingering on my slingback heels. From the way he smiles, I can tell he’s thinking dirty thoughts about them … and about me. Then, before I can take another tight breath, everything rushes into motion: he picks me up with no effort at all as I gasp in surprise, clinging to his sport coat with dizzy delight. He slides me onto the nearby dining table, and a bunch of the manila folders I’ve been going through for my move fall to the carpet.

  He runs a hand down my bare leg to my shoe, then hooks a finger into the strap around my ankle. My skin flares at his touch, and I bite my bottom lip to keep myself from making the sound I want to make.

  “These fucking heels,” he murmurs. “Man, I hate boots so much. Boots are the bane of my existence these days.”

  Of course this pretentious prick hates boots — they’re too country. Even though I’m leaving Cherry Valley, I take offense to what he says, and before I can think about what I’m doing, I give him a light smack on the cheek.

  Oops?

  He widens his eyes, and his grin gets hungrier. “What the hell was that?”

  “Don’t trash talk my town.”

  “You’re leaving this town.”

  Encouraged, I roughly cup his chin in my hand, and that’s when he seems to get it. This girl likes bad news, and he’s the latest edition.

  I’m already breathless, and when his gaze darkens, I grip his coat and pull at it, bringing his mouth down to mine with a crash. As something in my head explodes, I burrow my other hand in his hair and — oh, dear God, his hair. I’ve got a handful of it as he kisses me, our breathing choppy, our hands groping.

  My belly spins at the aggression of it all. He knows what he’s doing, slipping his hands down to my bottom to pull me flush against him as his mouth breaks me down sip by long, fierce sip. I arch up against him, making soft, needy sounds, wiggling my hips slightly, and he moans into me as his fingers knead my ass.

  More. None of this slow stuff, because he’s here to give me my drug of choice, and I part my lips, inviting his tongue into me. He lazily sweeps inside, and my pulse starts to hammer at me everywhere — over my skin, under it, sounding a red alarm wherever it goes. I press against him even more, and when I feel how excited he already is through his fancy jeans, I gyrate.

  “Shitfuck,” he mutters against my mouth, his voice sounding broken.

  No kidding shitfuck, and it feels so damned good that I tease him with one more arching wiggle, then skim my hand between us to his stomach. It’s only when I yank his shirt up that I remember he wasn’t wearing any provocative slogans or pictures on it tonight.

  I pull back on his hair so that my chin is against his and we’re breathing against each other. “You didn’t bother to wear an off-color shirt for my party?”

  “Laundry day.”

  He nibbles at my bottom lip, and I wiggle against him a little more until he’s laughing against me — and it’s in a way that tells me he likes what I’m doing to him. Yeah, same here, and I can feel that the stiffness in his jeans is no pencil in a pocket protector either. There’s a hardness there that’s making the ache between my legs hurt like nothin’ else, and he mutters a strangled fuck as he slips his mouth to my ear, kissing and gnawing at it.

  My eyes roll back in my head, because he’s found a sweet spot. I laugh and wrap my legs around him. He reaches beneath my dress, and I shift my hips as he eases off my panties.

  Hoo-boy. I’m throbbing because things are going so fast — he’s just as bad and naughty as I hoped he’d be — but then he does something that throws me totally off guard: he pulls my dress down so that I’m covered.

  “What the—?”

  He cuts me off with a breath-stealing kiss, and my question turns into another moan. He’s slowed things down again, almost like he doesn’t want to rush this.

  Him? The city dog from the Bay Area?

  The muscles in my belly jump for some reason, but I want fast and dirty, so I grab a handful of his hair again and pull his mouth away from mine. I make him look at me.

  “What is this?” I whisper. “Prom night in Sweetvale?”

  “Don’t rush it, Penny. Shit, and they say I’m the impatient one around here.”

  As he keeps looking down at me with his dark blue eyes, he coaxes his palms from my ass to my waist, taking a laid-back drive up my curves until he gets to my breasts. I stir restlessly as he cups them. When he starts to massage them, I move with the motion, the oxygen caught in my lungs again. He has a way of leaving me that way, helpless and breathless.

  He takes his time circling his thumbs over my nipples, and I try not to let him see that all the care he’s putting into things is pushing me to places I don’t want to go with a one-night stand. I don’t want something flipping upside-down in my stomach. I don’t want something building up inside me that I can’t explain.

  He’s just testing, teasing, challenging me in that difficult way he does with everyone else so he can win our battle of wills, and that’s lighting me up.

  “I’ll bet you come before I do,” he says, still working my breasts.

  I’m melting beneath him. “I’ll bet you’re wrong.”

  “I get the feeling you don’t like to wait, so go ahead, Penny. You’ll be a hot mess in the next minute, guaranteed.”

  I hate him so much. And, just to punish him, I dig my slingback heels into his legs. He makes a deep, agonized sound that seems to come from the bottom of his lungs, so I do it again, just like I’m a country girl spurring on a horse. Take that, city boy.

  In response, he tugs down the top of my dress so that my lacy bra is showing. A greedy gleam takes over his gaze. I revel in that for a heartbeat or two, then reach over to unhook the front clasp, freeing my tits, and his eyes go completely idiotic.

  When he bends down to suck me into his mouth, I stop laughing. I’m gasping again, pulling at his hair, arching my hips and repeating to myself not to beg for more.

  He takes his sweet damned time licking, nipping, bringing me to the point where I’m so hot and bothered that I don’t think I can stand another minute of this. And when he begins to kiss his way down my stomach, peeling off my dress on his way, I get a little more unhinged.

  “Oh, God,” I whisper.

  “I knew you’d be singing amen soon,” he murmurs against my skin just before he drags his mouth over my bare belly.

  The tiny muscles there flinch with every kiss, driving me crazy because I still want faster. Faster. I want to be the mindless freak I always am, the girl who knows that the guys she’s with are only temporary fixes. Witho
ut a mind, I won’t have to think about how scared I actually am to go to the city and find the type of man I should be with — if he even exists.

  When Barry pushes my dress up to expose me and then brings my legs over his arms, I squeal. He buries his face between my thighs, laughing evilly against me, and I squeal some more, laughing too, but louder now because his mouth is on me, kissing me until I melt and feel myself go limp, even as everything scrambles around inside of me, building up, heating up, tightening me with knots that’re bound to break as he uses his tongue on me and in me. Then, oh shit, his fingers get busy too, flirting with me until I start to pound my hand on the table.

  Thump … thump … thump …

  Shitfuckshitfuckshitfuck …

  I rock up against him with a sudden blast, coming like a maniac, crying out and thrashing around.

  Afterward, I’m dizzy, whipped around inside and out. I’m so discombobulated that I barely realize it when Barry scoops me up and carries me to my room. He tosses me onto the bed, my bra still partway on, my dress around my waist, my heels still on as I look up at him.

  He strips off his sport coat and hauls the t-shirt over his head so that his hair is a total mess now. But his hair’s not what has my eyes focusing into pinpoint clarity.

  Shoulders. Arms. Chest. Hi!

  My pretty parts beat with excitement at all that skin and a startling amount of tight body. “You exercise?”

  He blinks at me as if his inner language translator is on the fritz, then grins. “First thing I bought for my house was a home gym.”

  “Good damned call.”

  He’s a jerk, but right now he’s adorable, as if he likes that I’ve noticed his bod. For a moment, I decide that, in addition to hating his deeply sexy voice and smile, I’m also going to get right to work on hating his physique. It sucks that he’s so tall and hot.

  He grabs a rubber from his jeans pocket, then shucks off the rest of his clothes, and when he’s not wearing even a stitch more I …

  Phew. No wonder Barry Aaronson reportedly gets so much ass. Damn.

  My mattress sinks as he rests a knee on it. He pulls my dress off all the way, then my bra, and I sure as hell let him do it all. Then he nudges his other leg between both of mine.

  “My heels?” I say.

  “They stay on.”

  I get so hot that I think I might’ve just mini-came, but then he unwraps the condom, sheathes himself, and presses his body down to mine, his skin on my skin. I instinctively open up for him, expecting him to thrust hard and fast into me. But then he surprises me again.

  He pauses, then pushes a strand of hair back from my face.

  Huh?

  He seems to be thinking the same thing, because he laughs like he was just joking, then takes me by the hips and strokes into me. I rock up to take him, holding my breath again, and I don’t know when I’ll ever get it back. But I can’t even think about that, because my brain seems to have shorted out, sparking, buzzing. As he moves inside me, I cling to him, nails in his back, moans singing through my veins, and while his skin slides against mine, I start to get high off him once again.

  Frantically, I swing my leg over and urge him to his back, straddling him and riding him and bringing him deeper into me. My mind sparks and blinkers again and then fully blanks out, just the way I like it. Dizzy, intoxicating, naughty and bad—

  When the big bang takes me, it seems to last forever, one shudder after another, and it isn’t long afterward that he gets it done, too.

  In the aftermath, I struggle for breath and push the damp hair back from my face. Then I realize that this was more than just fun.

  I don’t know what it was, but I’m glad I’m not going to be around to find out.

  Chapter 7

  Barry

  “Well,” Penny says after we’ve both cleaned up and come back to her bed. “That was somethin’.”

  She plunks down next to me so that we’re both staring at the ceiling. I can feel her sweat on my skin, right along with mine. I’m painfully aware that she hasn’t put anything on, and I can see her beautiful tits in my peripheral vision.

  I just fucked the last woman in Cherry Valley I should’ve fucked, but it’s not like I tripped over her and my cock accidentally inserted itself into her vagina. From the saloon to her apartment, I had about a million chances to turn my BMW in the direction of the house I bought on Pinot Terrace on the winery side of town, but I didn’t. Maybe it was the thought of forbidden fruit that kept me going. Maybe I just wanted to show Zach that no one owns me except for me.

  Or maybe I’m kind of into Penny.

  Nah.

  I hear my phone ding from my coat on the floor, and I remember how I blew off my date in Marloe earlier. Yeah, it was a douchey thing to do, telling Tami with an “i” that I was under the weather when I was actually sitting at the saloon bar with Penny, but it’s done. At that point, I didn’t even realize that Penny would come onto me and get busy with me tonight, but there’s still no excuse. I’m a shitheel. I’m a cad. Even so, I just got laid, so I’m not complaining.

  Yet, now that it’s done, we’ve arrived at that moment when I want to get the hell out and she’ll probably want me to stay and cuddle. I hate when that happens.

  “Well,” I say. “That was definitely …”

  “Fun.” She laughs and turns to me. “A whole lot of fun.”

  “Sure was.”

  No cuddling so far. That’s good. And she’s still got those slingback heels on, and if I’m not careful, I’m going to get hard again in record time. Maybe I should leave now while I’ve still got a chance to escape.

  But I’m not making a move. Not when Penny is lying there naked except for those red heels. Is she refusing to take them off because she’s well aware of my great, horny love of sexy pumps and she’s a merciless tease? I’m really not sure as she leans her head down on her bent arm, looking at me with her big blue-green eyes shining, her skin glowing. On a strange impulse, I almost touch her red hair, but I hold back. What the serious fuck?

  Penny sighs and smiles at me. “So I need to make absolute, one hundred percent sure — we’re keeping this on the DL, right? I don’t need a lecture from Mandy, and you don’t need one from Zach.”

  “Damn straight I’m not saying a word.” Shagging Zach’s fiancée’s sister was a risky move on my part. Moronic, actually. Fortunately there’re no strings here, because Penny’s off and away soon enough.

  She’s still not cuddling up to me. “After I left the saloon, I texted Mandy that I didn’t feel so well and I was going home. I told her to stay there, that I didn’t want to ruin the good time she and Zach were having on the dance floor.”

  “Sounds reasonable. Zach already knows that I wasn’t going to stay very long at the saloon myself.”

  “You weren’t?”

  “Things to do, places to go.”

  “Women to screw?”

  Once again, Penny seems to see right through me.

  “Don’t worry,” she says. “We’re not engaged or anything.”

  The e-word almost makes my manparts shrivel, but I manage a laugh. Actually, Penny’s being much cooler about all of this than most girls. “Thank you.”

  “For what?”

  “I don’t know. Usually women want to chain a guy down in bed after they get them there. And I don’t mean that in a kinky way.”

  “You mean they want some kind of commitment after they do the deed. Jeez, don’t worry about that with me.”

  She runs her hand over my stomach, and even though my sensitive equipment isn’t ready to roll again just yet, my skin burns.

  “What do you want, Penny?” I say in a low voice.

  “More.”

  It’s so direct, so raw, that I have to press something like a low moan back into my lungs. Can this be happening? A girl who just wants to knob all night and forget the cuddling?

  “What I mean,” she says, “is that you’re the last bad-news guy I’m ever going to ha
ve. Remember, I’m starting over in Chicago, and that includes taking a different approach with the guys I’m with. I might as well get as much naughty as I can before I go.”

  A bad-news guy. I guess that’s me.

  She must feel me tense up, because her fingers go still on my skin. “Did I say something wrong? I mean, you give off the impression that you know exactly who you are. The trail of bodies you probably leave behind on your dating app is evidence of that, am I right?”

  “Right.” I’ve owned my assi-ness for years, so why am I getting touchy about it now? Is it because Zach found someone for himself with Mandy and, lately, I’ve been rethinking some shit about my own life?

  Hah. Yeah. Not quite. I’m happy as I am. I could give a crap if I have anyone.

  “Barry,” Penny whispers, tickling my belly.

  Dammit. I grab her hand. “You know what my mother would probably call you? A bold little shiksa.”

  “What’s that?’

  “Yiddish for a gentile girl who’s snagged a nice Jewish boy like me.”

  Even though I’m cuffing her wrist, she manages to drag her hand downward. “I’ve heard a lot about you Jewish boys.”

  All I can do is grit my teeth as she wraps her fingers around me.

  Looks like I’ll be staying here a while after all.

  We laugh a lot, and I let her smack me around a little more, mostly because I suspect that she likes to punish jerks before they can get out the door. I’m just fine with a lot of action, though, and after we finally settle down, she falls asleep on her side of the bed, unlike most of the women I’m with. Like I said, all I seem to encounter in life are snugglepusses, and I’m usually like a wolf ready to gnaw off his leg because of the trap he’s suddenly found himself in, so this is refreshing. Penny’s going to make leaving this particular hookup easy.

  After I sit up in bed, I take one last look at her. I really did have a good time, but when something begins to knock around inside my chest, I shake it off, then try ever so carefully to sneak away.