Asking for Trouble (Line of Duty #4)(10)

“Oh, really? Does it involve releasing me from unconstitutional imprisonment?”

“No.” She pursed her lips. “What are you doing tomorrow night?”

“Why are you asking?”

“You like dinner parties?”

He threw his head back and laughed. “Me? Dressing up in a monkey suit and listening to your friends’ amusing stories about their latest tropical vacation? Not going to happen, duchess.”

Hayden shrugged off his rejection. “Fine. Thought you might relish the chance to crash one of the stuffy, overblown snooze-fests you’re always teasing me about.” She smoothed her skirt again. “I guess eating your weight in caviar and dropping backhanded insults on a bunch of rich stiffs doesn’t appeal to you.”

“Let’s pretend for a moment that did appeal to me. What would be in it for you?”

“I get you as my bodyguard for the evening,” she replied simply.

Brent’s smile disappeared. Something unpleasant moved in his chest. “Why the hell would you need a bodyguard?”

Hayden waved off his serious tone. “I don’t need one, per se. However, I’d like someone to keep Stuart away.”

Brent could practically see the wheels spinning in her head, and braced for whatever would come next.

“If you happen to be your loud, irreverent self while we’re there, thus pissing my mother off in the process? Well, I probably wouldn’t mind that either.”

“I see,” he responded, berating himself for not anticipating the request. “You want to bring the working-class jackass from Queens along for your own personal amusement.”

Her lips parted, she shook her head. “Wait—”

“Unlock the goddamn handcuffs. Now. The keys are in my pocket.”

After a brief hesitation, she knelt down beside him. As she fished the keys from his pocket, their gazes met, but she quickly looked away. Having her close, her soft hand moving inside his pants, stiffened his cock once more, only serving to inflate his anger further.

She gasped when she saw that part of him stir, as though it should come as a surprise when he’d been primed for sex only minutes earlier. With the keys in her hand, she moved to unlock the handcuffs, then stopped. “When I take them off, you’re not going to…I mean…”

“What? Throw you down on the floor and see if you f*ck as hot as you kiss?” When she flinched a little, he reined himself in with a deep breath. “No. Even blue-collar jackasses have some boundaries. You’re safe.”

When his hands were finally free, he snatched the cuffs from her and carefully zipped his pants. He needed to get some air, clear his head. Which wouldn’t be happening around her. As he yanked his shirt over his head, an idea of his own began to form. She expected him to show up to her ritzy party, acting like a knuckle-dragging ape? Hell, maybe he would put on a show. Just not the one she expected. Brent made sure the smile on his face stayed well hidden as he turned back to her, one hand on the doorknob.

“I don’t have a suit. If you can get one in my size—and good luck with that, by the way—I’ll go to your fancy dinner party tomorrow.”

Her mouth fell open. “Wh-what?”

“Let me know. And Hayden?” He dangled her ripped panties in the air. “Later tonight, when I’m alone in my bed, stroking one out and thinking of the way you came like a freight train on my mouth, I’m going to make very good use of these.”





Chapter Four


For the third time that afternoon, Hayden hung up before her call to Brent could be completed. She dropped onto her bed and buried her head in the plush goose-feather pillow.

“Stupid, overgrown, panty-stealing f*cker,” she groaned.

The situation last night had completely gotten away from her. One minute, she’d been totally in charge of the next move. She’d had Brent practically begging for anything she felt like giving him. And the next? Her very existence had seemed to depend on the whereabouts of his tongue. God, she hated him for making her feel so good. The damn nerve.

It had started as a game. To see who would cave first. Although now, if you asked her who had won, she would have no idea how to answer. He might have gotten the last word, but she’d gotten one singularly incredible orgasm during which she’d heard the faint strains of angels singing somewhere in the distance. She’d been so lost in what he was doing to her body, she’d almost made the colossal mistake of sleeping with him. On the floor in her entryway. With his hands cuffed behind his back.

When Hayden realized her breathing had become labored, she made a sound of disgust and pushed off the bed to pace toward the window. She looked out over the Hudson River and drummed her fingers against the pane of glass. Was she making a mistake? Seeing him again so soon after last night might be a terrible idea. Things had been so much easier when she looked at him and felt only intense loathing. If he came to the dinner party tonight, dressed in a suit, with a new, knowing look in his eye, she didn’t feel 100 percent certain that would still be the case. Because while she still disliked him greatly…she wanted more.

Last night, when she’d been in the process of uncuffing Brent, she’d been a little disappointed when he didn’t throw her down and have his dirty, pissed-off way with her. She’d been frustrated by her mother’s visit, frustrated by the fact that she now felt a stunning sexual attraction for her nemesis…just flat-out frustrated. But he’d walked. She suspected because she’d bruised his ego, which actually, for once, hadn’t been her intention. When the idea struck her to bring Brent along to the dinner party, she thought he’d jump at the chance to shock and mock her snooty family friends. Instead he’d seemed…hurt.