Asking for Trouble (Line of Duty #4)(18)

“You going to stay in there all night?”

Rolling her eyes to hide her jumbled emotions, she took his hand and let him lead her up the stoop to her front door. Once they reached the top, she busied herself trying to find her keys in her purse, but his big hand closed over hers, ceasing her jerky movements. “Hey. I want you, duchess. Bad as hell. But if you’re not completely here with me, I’ll go.”

“You would, wouldn’t you?” She peered up at him, wondering if this other dimension to him had always existed and how she’d missed it. I have a sister. A mother. I take that type of thing seriously. She’d never thought of him as anything but a vulgar meathead. Was it possible she’d been wrong? “What else don’t I know about you, Brent?”

Watching her closely in that distracting way of his, he didn’t answer. Then, in a replay of the previous night, Brent followed Hayden into her town house and pushed her up against the heavy front door. They regarded each other warily as bodies pressed together, hands roamed over curves, breathing harshened.

Hayden felt as though her body would combust at any second. She wanted him with a single-mindedness that alarmed her and didn’t give a damn about the consequences or the fact that they were supposed to hate each other. Or whether or not tomorrow she would wake up and regret sharing her body with someone who usually regarded her with contempt. How did this infuriating man manage to make her feel so incredibly sexy and uninhibited? Never before, not once, had a man gotten this reaction out of her. This relentless need to get and give pleasure. She felt weak and strong at the same time. Unsure, yet determined.

In the back of her mind, however, a little voice whispered that she needed to keep a leash on this crazy attraction running wild between them. The unfamiliar frightened the hell out of her, especially when so many uncertainties lay between herself and Brent. For all she knew, he wanted to take her to bed so he could use it against her. From this night forward, every time she leveled an insult in his direction, he wouldn’t have to utter a single word in response. The memory alone of her begging him to make her come would be enough to keep her quiet.

Another part of her wasn’t so certain he would use their physical relationship against her. He’d managed to surprise her twice tonight. First, by winning over her parents’ tight-knit group of friends, then again when he apologized for letting Stuart near her. She couldn’t yet allow herself to consider that Brent had been a classy gentleman all this time hiding underneath a Mets baseball cap, but…perhaps there was more than met the eye.

It was too soon to take that chance. This other Brent, the one she’d briefly glimpsed under the surface, might be a figment of her imagination. Someone she’d conjured up to justify the insistent desire he’d generated in her. With all these doubts swirling in her head, Hayden put a hand on his big chest and held him back. They would satisfy this inconvenient craving tonight, but dammit, there needed to be some ground rules.

“This is a one-time thing, right?” Hayden asked, wetting her lips. “For some odd reason, we seem to want each other, so let’s get it out of our systems. Then we move on. Agreed?”

His hands coasted down over her breasts, groaning when he encountered her stiff nipples. “Woman, if it means getting your clothes off, I’d agree to change my name to Florence right now.”

Hayden laughed before she could stop herself, marking the first time she’d ever laughed at one of his jokes. They both paused, acknowledging that fact with their eyes, before his hands resumed their exploration of her body. His mouth claimed hers in a heated kiss as he unzipped her dress, then tugged it over her shoulders and down her hips. His tongue stroked in and out, seeking, teasing.

After a moment, she tore her lips away. “We don’t speak about tonight, either. Ever again. None of our friends find out. And no jokes about it, Brent. Promise.”

“Florence, Hayden. Florence.”

She ducked her head so Brent wouldn’t see her smile, but he was too busy watching her dress fall to the floor, revealing her black lace bra-and-panty set, complete with garter belt and stockings. Her tummy flipped a little when he cursed under his breath and ran a hand over his open mouth. His hot regard felt heavy as it ran the length of her body, pausing at her thighs and between her legs.

He tucked one finger into the top of her stocking, sliding it back and forth slowly. Hayden felt each movement between her legs as though he were touching her there instead. She grew increasingly damp with each drag of his finger. “I hate these stockings. Don’t ever stop wearing them.”

Hayden sucked in a breath as his finger slipped around to the back of her thigh. “I-I don’t understand. That makes no sense.”

His hand traveled higher to cup her behind, fitting her against him. “Every time you cross your legs, I hear that material rub together.” He ran his tongue and teeth down the side of her neck. “Your tight thighs, covered in silk, parting and crossing. Parting and crossing. Only you never leave them open long enough for me to see your *. It makes me crazy.”

She writhed against the door, his provocative words ratcheting her need even higher. “What are you waiting for? An apology?”

“I have a much better idea.” He grasped her around the waist and deposited her on the bench. The same bench they’d used the night before. She watched, dumbfounded, as he knelt down in front of her, gaze fastened on the juncture of her thighs. “Show me right now. Cross and uncross your legs for me, duchess. I want to see how it looks when there’s no skirt to hide behind.”