Asking for Trouble(47)

“I’m still pissed at you,” Hayden said, head pressed to his chest.

“Everyone’s always pissed at me. It’s just part of my charm.” He released his own unsteady breath as Hayden laughed. How he could make a joke when he felt so painfully turned-on his knees might give out at any moment, Brent had no clue. She’d needed to laugh, that’s why. It was fast becoming obvious that he’d put himself through a dozen varieties of torture to give her what she needed. When had that started? Why didn’t he want it to end?

“So you didn’t really change your mind, then? You still…?”

Brent tipped her chin up. “Hayden, look at me. I’m dancing. You think I’d dance for a girl unless I wanted her like crazy?” He ran his thumb across her bottom lip, groaning when her tongue darted out to lick him. “I guess you haven’t figured it out yet, huh? This week alone, I let you cuff me, stuff me into a suit, and inflict me with Blue-Ball Syndrome.”

Her lips quirked up. “Is that an actual medical diagnosis?”

“Yeah. It is now,” he growled. “They’re naming it after me, too. ‘I got a case of the Brents.’ People will be saying that for centuries to come.”

Hayden’s eyes narrowed. “Wait, you said ‘I let you cuff me’?”

He winked at her. When she sputtered in disbelief, he cut her off with a kiss. She sagged into him almost immediately, actually managing to knock him back a step. He caught her around the waist with his arm. “Hey, how much have you had to drink?”

…

Hayden bit her lip and looked up at Brent with mock innocence. He looked all noble and protective standing there, waiting for her answer, a concerned frown marring his forehead. It made her want to climb up his body and whisper very bad things in his ear until he cracked. She might have a few drinks buzzing through her brain, but wanting Brent naked wasn’t a product of her over-imbibing. Before she’d even set foot in the bar she’d wanted that, so she wasn’t about to let him get away with this whole honorable-policeman act. Not by a long shot.

One teeny little product of her loosened inhibitions was her sudden determination that she needed one more hot, tear-up-the-sheets night with Brent. If she agreed to consign herself to a lifetime as a trophy wife, she wanted to experience his brand of passion one more time. So she could tuck it deep into her memory bank and call on it whenever needed. The part of her brain hanging on to the cliff’s edge of sobriety warned her this was a bad decision, but she tuned it out. She needed him so bad, her body ached. Her breasts, her hands, the flesh between her thighs all begged for contact with him. He’d know what she needed, even if she herself didn’t know right then. Just knew that Brent would give it to her.

“I’ve had three drinks.”

He grunted. “More like five.”

She tried again. “How about four?”

“We’re not bargaining here, woman.”

Excited by the challenge, Hayden slid her hands up the front of his shirt, satisfied when the muscles bunched under her hands. All that power. Mine. Just for tonight.

Using his shoulders for leverage, she leaned up to whisper in his ear. “Brent, take me somewhere private. Where I can wrap my legs around all that muscle. Somewhere you can take off my teeny, tiny panties and fuck me hard.”

“Jesus Christ,” he moaned. As if acting on their own, his hands dropped to her ass and hauled her up against him. Hayden whimpered when she felt his enormous erection probing her through the thin material of her dress. “Are you out of your goddamn mind saying something like that to me in public? It’s all I can do right now not to bend you over the nearest table and fuck you senseless with everyone watching. Maybe it would teach you to be more careful with that mouth.”

Hot, wet heat flooded her, spreading between her legs. She almost had him…just one more push. “My mouth knows exactly how—”

Before the words were fully spoken, Brent began dragging her across the dance floor, scanning the bar as he went. Apparently satisfied that no one paid them any attention, he pushed through a door with an exit sign above it and pulled her behind him into a dark, empty hallway. The only light illuminating the corridor emanated from two exit signs on either end. Music, muffled now, pounded through the door, mingling with their panting breaths.

“On your knees.”

Combined with the thumping bass, the erratic rhythm of her heart beat loudly in her ears. Every cell in her body hummed in needy anticipation. She fell to her knees without a single hesitation, desperate to wring every drop of pleasure from tonight. Not just her own, but Brent’s as well. Their hands met in a tangle as they worked frantically to unbuckle his belt and lower the zipper of his dress pants. She devoured the sight of his erection, the evidence of how badly he wanted her.