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  He licked my skin where he’d just bitten me, moving up, until he reached my ear. His tongue flicked my earlobe and his stubble scraped against the tender skin.

  Nope. No room for subtlety here.

  “Hard,” he rasped.

  He’d possessed me. And I liked it.

  My ass pressed into his hard-on, and he groaned.

  “In that case, I definitely like hard.”

  He didn’t loosen his grip. The hand that was around my waist moved up, until it grazed the underside of my left breast.

  I sucked in a breath.

  He traced the curve of my breast where it met my ribs. Damn stupid shirt for being in the way. “What do you want from me?”

  Pleasepleasepleasepleasepleasetouchme.

  I ached, silently begging for him to do more. To demand all of him. Right freaking now. But my self-esteem had been kicked while she was down, and the words froze in my throat.

  “Tell me,” he beckoned. His cock thrust against me.

  I reached my hand behind me and let my fingers tangle in his hair, holding him to me. He took that as enough invitation and pulled at the neck of my shirt until he exposed my shoulder. His lips, tongue, and teeth went to work, but his hand stayed put on my ribs.

  I shifted so that I faced him, and although I knew my skin had to be the color of the Gatorade I’d just drunk, I met his eyes while I removed my shirt and bra.

  “Damn.” His voice came out a reverent murmur, stealing my breath.

  I couldn’t help biting my lower lip and grinning. “Eyes are up here, Callahan.”

  All traces of joking gone, he drew me against him so I straddled his lap and kissed me. Although he was playful, he took direction well, waiting for my command. His hands stayed above my shoulders, but Sawyer Junior was begging for attention. I thought I’d come right there.

  He wouldn’t take without permission, and he’d already asked. So if I wanted him to go further, I’d have to tell him exactly what I wanted. Maybe he wasn’t a gentleman. Maybe he was a sadist and wanted me to beg. Sexy bastard.

  Old Blair would’ve gone to bed frustrated.

  Blair 2.0 was horny.

  All I had to say was three words. I could do this. I could. I met his lust-filled gaze. There was nobody else I wanted to get started on my challenge with than him.

  “I want you,” I said.

  There. Not terribly specific, but it was a start.

  His eyes narrowed, and to his credit he kept them on mine. “How do you want me?”

  I breathed in. Breathed out. Remembered how much I wanted to have an orgasm—sixteen of them, to be exact, if you went by the list. “I believe we already established I’m a hard type of girl.”

  “My favorite type.” His tongue drew a deliberate line across his bottom lip.

  “I’m glad you approve.” Not to say that if he preferred soft I wouldn’t have caved like an underdone quiche.

  I waited for him to go in for the kill. He didn’t. Ugh. It was on me. Fine. New Blair, get ready to roll.

  I pushed him back and kissed him again, inching the hem of his shirt up his waist. Without hesitation he tore it up and over his head. Instead of pressing my chest to his, I moved only close enough for my nipples to graze his pecs. The man was built, always had been, and I loved the way his muscles tensed. I wanted to see how far I could push him.

  His skin was so hot, with the most enticing gleam of sweat. I knew I was driving him crazy—I was driving myself crazy. Taking some mercy on him, I laced my fingers through his, and pulled his hand up to my chest.

  Keeping in line with my demand for hard, he squeezed my breast and flicked his thumb over my nipple. I ground my pelvis against his, desperately wanting his tongue on me again. Time to move things along.

  I unbelted, unbuttoned, unzipped him so I could slide my hand down the front of his pants. When my hands reached his cock, he sucked in a breath. I pushed his clothes down as far as I could, until his full length was exposed. Grabbing him with both hands, I ran my fingers up and down his shaft.

  He hoisted me up and sucked my nipple into his mouth. Cross-eyed, I surrendered to the sensation of his tongue and teeth having their wicked way with me. Curling my fingers in his hair, I held him close with one hand and stroked him with my other. Somehow I ended up on my back.

  He covered my other breast with his mouth. I wrapped my legs around him and savored the feel of his sizzling skin against mine. Why had we waited so long for this? Oh yeah. Engagement. Post-broken-engagement depression. Friend zone. Things that, for now, didn’t matter.

  He kissed his way down my torso, stopping when he saw the bruise forming on my belly. “We shouldn’t be doing this. Look at you.”

  “You know what’s going to hurt? You when you stop doing this.”

  He kissed the bruise, but when his attention focused on my injuries again, his expression was filled with remorse. “It doesn’t feel right.”

  The doorbell rang.

  I groaned.

  “Ignore it,” he said, his eyes practically burning.

  Pounding sounded below. Baxter went nuts, barking and hopping all over the place. Let me just take a moment to say how sexy all the noise was. I was so in the mood for naked time now. Not.

  Sawyer lifted his head, and I was pretty sure whoever it was down there would die from the Medusa effect if Sawyer laid eyes on him.

  “Sawyer!” a male voiced roared. “Let me in!”

  Sawyer collapsed into my belly and he groaned. “Fuck.”

  I tapped on his shoulder. “Mind filling me in?”

  “It’s Ben.”

  “Ben?” As in Billionaire Ben? The one who started his own hedge fund at twenty, and single-handedly started his own multi-billion-dollar software company Ben? I’d heard all about him, and knew he was Sawyer’s best friend, but I’d met the guy only a couple of times. He was some child genius, kind of a recluse, and Jessica had this weird love-hate thing with him.

  The pounding resumed. “Callahaaaaan!”

  “I’ll get rid of him,” he said.

  “Are you sure that’s a good idea?” I remembered part of the gossip last night about him proposing to Kelsey Davies, his girlfriend, tonight. Nobody liked her particularly, but there was no accounting for taste.

  “I can think of all sorts of better ideas,” he said, pulling his shirt back on.

  Damn. My lips drew into a pout. “Well, he sounds…primeval. That can’t be good. And if he’s here, within hours of his proposal, don’t you think that bodes not so well for their relationship?”

  His shoulders sagged. “Oh.”

  “Yeah.” I quickly dressed.

  Sawyer planted a peck on my forehead. “Maybe he’s just here to celebrate. Hang on. I’ll take care of him.”

  He disappeared down the steps, and I heard the chaos of him and Baxter wrestling their way to the front door. Sawyer’s voice was muffled. Ben’s voice was scarier than those Gregorian chants. He should really consider getting a job doing voiceover work for Satan.

  I thought I heard Sawyer saying something like, “I’m sorry, man,” but my muffled translation abilities didn’t have a chance to improve much when he and Ben appeared in the staircase.

  Hell and damn.

  Ben stumbled more than walked, the confident graceful man I remembered merely a memory. The best way I could describe him now was shit-faced. Sawyer looked like he was one step away from hauling Ben up on his shoulders in a fireman hold.

  Ben’s white Oxford was wrinkled and untucked, and his black tailored suit pants didn’t fare much better. Dilated pupils behind the glassy surface of his eyes revealed only a part of what he’d been up to before coming here. Combined with the slur of his speech, the man was in for an epic recovery tomorrow.

  I took a step back. I’m sure my eyebrows were about to fly right off my forehead. “Hey, Ben. Um, how are things?”

  He threw his arms out wide, and for a moment I thought he’d take a digger. The man was unbalanced, just
like his chaotic hair. “How are things? Things are grand, Blair. Off the fucking charts. Did you hear the great news?”

  Sawyer put his hand on Ben’s shoulder. “Let’s get you to the couch, buddy.”

  The couch. The very place I was supposed to be in the midst of an all-out sexapalooza right this moment. My ovaries were weeping.

  Ben’s evil eye burned brighter. “Turns out, I’m going to celebrate being a single man tonight.”

  “I’m so sorry, B—”

  “Nice black eye. What the fuck’d you do to ’er, Callahan? I always knew you were a kinky fucker under that Captain America costume.” He collapsed into the arm of the couch, and amusement gave way to sadness. “Get me a drink, Sally.”

  “Sally?” I mouthed to Sawyer.

  He gave me a thin-lipped smile and walked to the fridge, where I joined him. By the automatic way Sawyer reacted to Ben’s outburst, I got the impression he’d done this more than once.

  “Where’s your aspirin, Sally?” I asked, giving him a wink.

  He narrowed his eyes and shook his head, then leaned close to whisper in my ear, “Call me Sally again and see what happens.”

  Don’t laugh. That would be mean. And remember all the nice things he’s done for you today. The pressure to keep my mouth shut practically hurt. “Okay, Sally.”

  He shook his finger at me. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you. Aspirin’s in the cupboard over the sink.”

  I walked to the sink and reached for the cupboard door handle. I had to stand on tiptoes, and even then just my fingertips could touch. The aspirin was on the top shelf, and unless I suddenly grew a foot I would never reach it. Sawyer pressed his front against my backside and stretched over my head for the bottle. When he handed it to me, his fingers caressed mine, and I almost whimpered over my disappointment that Ben had showed up when he did. Sighing, I took it from him, tapped two pills onto my palm, and handed him the bottle to put away.

  While Sawyer poured Ben a glass of water, I made a plate of food with the same snacks Sawyer and I had eaten earlier. Minus the Skittles.

  Sawyer took it from me. “Thanks.”

  “I think I should leave you two. Poor guy is pretty torn up, and I don’t think he’ll want me around when he came to see you.”

  “I’ll get you situated for the night then take care of him. He usually passes out pretty quickly,” he said, and brought the plate to Ben.

  Ben was hunched over on the couch, his head in his hands. From the looks of things, he was definitely close to passing out. How the heck had he made it over here? He took the aspirin and chased it with the water, and Sawyer said a few things to him while he nodded and chewed on the crackers.

  Sawyer patted him on the shoulder, rose, and made his way back to me. “Come with me.”

  If only.

  I followed him to another staircase, and we walked up to the third floor. A small home office was arranged at the top of the stairs, with a comfy-looking couch off to the side. Three doors flanked the area.

  He pointed to one door. “Behind door number one you will find a fully decked out guest room, complete with its own en suite, queen-sized bed, and all the accouterments a lovely guest—such as yourself—could ever want.”

  “Mmmm,” I said. “Does it have a Jacuzzi tub?”

  “Alas, no. But… behind door number two, you have my room.”

  “Oooh, tell me more.” I clapped my hands excitedly, not shy at all over dorking out in front of him.

  He wiggled his brows and continued. “Behind door number two, you will find a huge master suite, complete with a king-sized bed—”

  I gasped and fanned myself with both hands.

  “—en suite with Jacuzzi tub, shower big enough for two, and optional male companion.”

  “Optional? Does that mean I get to pick from, like, a closet full of available men?”

  He snorted. “One option is available. He’s a not much of a gentleman, but comes with an a la carte menu of activities to share with his guest—her choice, of course. Or she could banish him to the guest room and enjoy her own menu of a la carte activities on her own. She’s the boss.”

  “I bet she loves being the boss.” My insides melted at the very thought of a la carte activities I could order. Thankfully I had a menu on my coffee table to get me started.

  Serious now, he put his hands on my shoulders and leveled with me. “You are the boss. I’m making no assumptions.”

  I put my fingertip on his lips, shushing him before he sent me to a convent or a hospital or somewhere not here. “And you said you weren’t a gentleman.”

  He gently bit my fingertip.

  “If you can handle having me in your bed, with you, all night, then I will go for Door Number Two with the optional male companion.”

  He took my hands in his and kissed my knuckles. “Thank you.”

  “I’ll find my way around. Take care of Ben.” I stood on my tiptoes and kissed him quickly. “Be sure you have some of that Gatorade. You’re going to need it.”

  He made a hissing noise. “Damn me for being a good friend.”

  I winked, turned, and walked to Door Number Two, making sure to strut my stuff a little on the way. Judging by the whimper behind me, I’d done pretty good. I slipped into the room and shut the door behind me. Mostly so I wouldn’t turn around and jump his bones, leaving poor Ben alone.

  The windows were floor to ceiling, revealing a killer view of the Old Town neighborhood. Instead of turning on the lights, I let the glow from outside illuminate the path to the bathroom. I turned on the lights and searched for a spare toothbrush. Luckily he had a brand new one under the sink. I brushed my teeth and used his soap and lotion to wash up, carefully avoiding the scratch on my face.

  This was so not great. Although I’d iced it as instructed, it still swelled a little, and had turned lovely shades of magenta and navy. A ring had formed under my eye, and I knew I’d have one hell of a shiner to show off in the morning. Why Sawyer wasn’t putting a bag over my head was a mystery.

  My concrete burn, which covered my knees, hip, and elbow, burned like a mofo. I had nailed the attack run, but definitely not the landing. I’d have to work on that, maybe take some Parkour lessons.

  I found my way to the bed. It really was gigantic. At least compared to my full-size POS in my apartment. The bed was modern, black, and had silky soft gray sheets. I shucked my skirt and climbed in, moaning at the sensation of high thread-count sheets and a comfy mattress. The pillows were goosedown and perfect. I fluffed and arranged them just so, then laid back.

  Sleep was the last thing on my mind. I mean, really, how could a girl sleep after the events of the last couple of hours?

  Sex bucket list? Check.

  Getting mugged? Check.

  Being rescued by long-time crush/friend? Check.

  Making out with said long-time crush/friend? Check.

  Having all night sex fest? No check. Put that in the in-progress column.

  Sex with Sawyer—I wouldn’t delude myself—it would change everything. We had been friends since college, and we’d been close. Not like Jess and I, but close as two people of the opposite sex can be, without the sex. He’d had a few girlfriends who came and went, and I’d had Ethan.

  Ugh. Ethan. Just spending time with Sawyer like this highlighted everything that was wrong with my relationship with Ethan. Sawyer and I were friends first, and had a high level of comfort, inside jokes, and everything just felt cool. I wracked my brain and tried to think of examples where I’d felt that with Ethan. Nothing. How could I have been so blind?

  Never again.

  If I had sex with Sawyer, we’d need ground rules. Strictly friends-with-benefits. Not a relationship. I had no business getting involved in a relationship, anyway, considering the fact that I had zero shits together at the moment.

  I closed my eyes, and dreamt up a list of rules that would ensure that nobody got hurt.

  Chapter Five

  Somebody was watching
me.

  I opened my eyes and found a gigantic, furry face with one glowing yellow eye. Curled up on my side, I wiped my eyes, and took a second or two to process the situation.

  Baxter rested his head on the mattress, watching me expectantly. He licked his chops, and his tail thumped on the wood floor.

  Although it was too early for smiling, I did anyway, and reached out to scratch him behind the ear. Which he took as his invitation to hop up and plop onto the mattress next to me.

  I rolled over so I could breathe. The other side of the bed was empty, but I smelled coffee and food—bacon, especially—cooking. I sat up and scratched a wiggling Baxter. How had I thought he looked like a vicious beast? The dog was 150 pounds of nothing but love. He practically sat on my lap now, leaning into me so hard I was glad I had pillows between me and the headboard.

  Footsteps sounded outside in the hallway, and a second later, the door opened. Sawyer had a tray of food propped on one hip, and closed the door with his free hand. “Morning, sunshine.”

  Baxter made a growling/howling sound and his body shook like the space shuttle right before blast-off.

  Sawyer shook a finger at him. “You know you’re breaking the rules, buddy. No dogs on the bed. Now move so I can feed my female companion.”

  As if the dog interpreted everything he’d said, he jumped off the bed, but rested his chin on the mattress next to me.

  I patted the top of his head. “You are so busted.”

  Sawyer sat beside me. “How’d you sleep?”

  I peeked at the alarm clock on the table on his side of the bed. “It’s almost ten?”

  “I wasn’t going to wake you, but once I realized Bax had disappeared, I figured you’d be awake soon.”

  I scratched Baxter’s ear, wondering if Sawyer had slept next to me all night. “Not a bad way to wake up. How’s Ben?”

  Nervous energy practically crackled around him. “Sleeping it off behind Door Number One.”

  “Is he all right?”