"Brooke." He pushed off the bed. As much as I wanted to erase these events from memory, the heaviness in his tone rooted me in place. He stopped behind me, his hands settling on my hips. His cock tapped the small of my back. "I'm not telling you you're bad in bed."
"Then what are you telling me?"
He plucked my jeans and shoes from my arms, tossed them to the floor. "You had it your way," he said, his beard scraping my shoulder as he spoke to my skin. "Now, it's my turn."
Chapter Five
JJ
Elasticity: a measurement of shifts in demand for a product correspondent to price shifts.
If I was goingto ruin my life, there was no sense in half-assing it.
To be sure, Iwasruining my life. Even as I kept telling myself this was a one-and-done situation, having sex with Brooke was suicide. I'd never come back from this. Never shake it off. And not because she was a spectacular lay—she was—but because she'd never let me forget how I bent to her will and gave her everything she wanted, even when I knew it was a goddamn mistake.
"Now it's my turn." I dragged my hand up her spine, stopping between her shoulder blades. I stroked her alabaster skin for a second before shoving her facedown onto the bed.
She went with an indignant shriek and, "You better watch yourself, Jed."
I climbed over her and straddled her thighs. Front row seat to the best ass in the state and my complete downfall. "Let me ask you this one more time, Brooke. What am I allowed to do?"
She huffed out the sigh of a woman who'd never been thrown on a bed and didn't want to admit she liked it.
"You're allowed to get the fuck off me," she replied.
I filled my hands with her ass cheeks, kneading and squeezing and separating while Brooke shot her most vicious scowl at me over her shoulder. "For such a mouthy, bratty woman, you're shit at asking for what you want."
"I just asked you to get off me."
I moved my hand between her thighs, but I waited, drawing circles on her leg with my thumb. I waited while her pale, narrow shoulders loosened and a breath whooshed out of her. Waited until she glanced at me from under that long curtain of platinum hair and those pale lashes, and tipped her stubborn chin up in the tiniest unspokenyesI'd ever heard.
So, this is how it's going to be.
Finally, I cupped her the way I'd wanted all night. The black panties she insisted on wearing were warm and wet. She pressed the back of her hand to her mouth when I brushed her clit over the fabric. "It's not that hard, sweetheart. You tell me what you want, I give it to you."
"Haven't I told you to shut up? You're the most conversational dick appointment I've ever had," she hissed. "It's a tragedy I don't carry ball gags with me anymore."
I gave her cheeks a harsh squeeze. It took real restraint to keep from tearing off those panties, leaning forward, and licking her. Just to know, once and for all, how Brooke Markham's ass tasted. "Maybe if you answered my fucking questions the first time I asked them, you could get the dick you came for."
"I distinctly recall you telling me you didn't want to have sex with me twice."
"You should take your own advice and shut up." I slipped my fingers under the fabric, inside her. We groaned at the same time. She fisted the bed linens, buried her face in the blankets. Worked damn hard at denying herself as she moved against my hand like she was made for it. "Fucking hell, Brooke. Let me take these goddamn panties off you."
She was panting as she found a rhythm on my fingers. Watching her like this—with my cock hard on the back of her leg and my hand between her thighs and her body writhing on my bed—made it easy to ignore the consequences. The price I'd pay for this.
"Fine," she snapped. "But don't you dare ruin them."
I hooked my free hand around the waistband, edged it down. "How could I ruin your precious underwear?"
"You're approximately two hundred and fifty pounds of lumberjack man," she answered. "I wouldn't put it past you to ruin some fine lingerie."
I couldn't identify anything fine about these panties beyond the delicate script lettering on the waistband readingAgent Provocateur. Shifting to my knees, I dragged the overpriced scrap of fabric down her thighs. Once it was free, I chucked it over my shoulder. Fuck her fine lingerie.
Slipping my fingers under the band of her bra, I said, "This too."
"This," she muttered, "is hand-sewn lace imported from France. Handle with care."
I flung that French lace clear across the room. I ran my hands up the back of her thighs, now well and truly obsessed with licking this woman. "I'm going to ask you one more time—"
