IRL: In Real Life (After Oscar, #1)(56)

But I couldn’t. I wasn’t the one for him. I knew this truth as well as I knew the mechanics of structuring a lucrative business deal. He deserved a sweetheart. Someone strong but tender who would treat him like a king and take charge when Conor needed to give over control. That would never be me. I was neither sweet nor tender, and he’d already made it clear he thought I was a selfish asshole in real life.

I’d never felt so powerless to help someone in my life.

I took a large swallow of scotch, welcoming the burn of it down my throat.

He snorted softly. His eyes turned molten. “But then again, sometimes I just want to find someone to pin me down face-first onto the nearest solid surface and fuck me like their life depended on it. Go figure.”

I choked on the scotch, letting out a wheeze as I struggled to catch my breath.

His intention had been to dispel the tension, but his hot words had only served to ratchet it up a thousand notches. My thundering heart turned its power south until my head swam and my pants tightened.

“Jesus fuck,” I rasped, shifting my hips in my chair.

Knowing heat flared in Conor’s eyes. “Yeah? That do something for you?” he teased.

“Mpfh.” I grunted, eyeballing the back of the leather chair next to him, the one at the perfect height to catch at his hips. The perfect height for bending someone over. Conor caught me assessing the chair and let out a strangled noise from his throat.

“Here you are, gentlemen,” the server chirped, setting down a plate with two small burgers on it. “Hope you’re hungry. Enjoy.”

Without taking my eyes off Conor, I spoke in a roughened voice to the woman. “Definitely hungry. We’re also ready for our check.”





19





Conor





I thought maybe I was going to pass out from the anticipation and lust. The heady combination of high-end scotch and Wells’s flirting made me feel warm and fuzzy around the edges.

I wanted him so fucking badly. Which was ridiculous since he was an asshole.

But he was such a hot fucking asshole who seemed to reveal shards of non-assholery behind the uptight mask he wore.

Also, I wanted to see him naked.

Like, really really really wanted to see him naked.

I briefly thought about Trace, whose texts I still hadn’t gotten the nerve to read. He had made me feel the same kind of horny desperation I was beginning to feel for Wells. What the hell was my problem? Was I just hard up? Had my embarrassing dry spell caused this incessant need? Did it matter?

“Do you think Hank can give me a ride to the hotel?” I asked. I’d meant to ask him to take me someplace dark and private and fuck me into the nearest wall, but my Southern manners beat me to the punch.

“Is that what you want?” Wells’s voice was gruff.

His eyes pinned me to my seat until I squirmed. Why did I want to reply No, sir to this man?

“What…” I swallowed. “What are my options, exactly?”

The foot he’d rested alongside mine moved closer to me until his calf brushed mine. The warmth of his body through his suit pants caused me to let out a needy sound under my breath. He must have heard it because his eyes narrowed even more until I thought I might combust on the spot.

I knew both of us had consumed enough hard liquor to make this a dangerous game, but I also knew we were buzzed enough not to give a shit.

Wells leaned forward across the small round table between us until only I could hear his low rumble. He drew the edge of a pinky finger lightly along the outside of my knee until goose bumps came up all over my skin. “I want you to come home with me. I want to take off your clothes and press your naked body against the windows overlooking the city. And then I want to fuck you until you beg me to let you come.”

I closed my eyes as my entire body shuddered. My cock was stiff, and precum dampened my underwear. Fuck, he was incredible. Was there a gay man alive who could say no to that?

“Ungh,” I said in agreement.

His face transformed into a smile, but instead of a smile of victory, it was a tender one. His hand moved to my knee and squeezed gently. “Are you sure, Conor?”

His use of my name sobered me, and I wondered if that had been his intent.

“Just for tonight?” I asked, more for myself than him.

He paused for a moment before nodding. “Just for tonight.”

It felt a little bit like making a deal with the devil. I knew I wasn’t the kind of person who could have an intense sexual encounter with someone and leave it behind so easily. But I also wasn’t the kind of person who could say no to Wells Grange when his hands and eyes were on me like that.

“Okay,” I said.

As if the answer was ever going to be anything other than yes.





I would have expected the ride to his place to be filled with awkward silence and regret.

It was not.

The minute the bill was paid, Wells grabbed my hand and hauled my ass out of the small bar and to the waiting town car. The warmth of his hand made my stomach tumble, and when I felt his thumb caress mine, I almost sucked in a breath.

“My place, Hank.”

Other than the briefest flash of a smirk, Hank remained professional. Since there was no divider in the car, I expected Wells to keep to one side of the vehicle while I hugged the other. Instead, the minute Wells slipped in next to me, he reached for my hand again to pull me toward him, tucking me against his side and wrapping an arm around my shoulders.