Shenanigans (Pretense and Promises Book 2) Read online

  He’d probably confess that to her at some point.

  But Raquel leaned over and stabbed the button that closed the doors. Apparently, she wasn’t interested in sharing the space with others. “We’re going to my room, Conor. I don’t know how Maureen would feel about that.”

  “Morgan.”

  “Right.”

  “We’re not married yet.” Why the hell did he feel like a complete ass saying what was on his mind?

  “Oh. Well, that sounds like fun to me.” When the doors opened, Conor held out his arm to allow Raquel to go first. As soon as he stepped out, she took his arm again as if she owned him. “A lot of men will fuck a stripper at their bachelor party for the same reason. Last chance to taste a little foreign pussy before settling down to the homegrown boring, you know?”

  He’d had no idea Raquel had such a filthy mouth…but something deep in his loins liked it. His blood was swirling, his curiosity piqued. He wondered what Morgan was doing right now, if she’d tracked down Jacob and was doing the same thing. It didn’t matter. The only way to get naked Morgan out of his head was to drown out that memory with a new one—and Raquel seemed to sense just what he’d need.

  Raquel slid the card in the slot, her long red nails pulling it back out when the tiny light blinked green. What would those claws feel like on his back as he drove into her over and over? As he followed her into the room, his eyes took her in from head to toe. Her body looked just like it had back in the day: tall, limber, but her breasts were bigger, fuller—ripe and juicy—and he wanted to taste them first. Her hair was longer than it had been back then, but it was more beautiful, flowing like a mane, and the violet dress she wore hugged her every curve, telling Conor she was proud of her assets.

  When she turned after tossing her purse on the desk, she took his hands in hers, pulling him farther inside the room. “I hardly remember you from school, Conor, but what a man you’ve turned out to be.” She snuggled up to him then, close enough to press her breasts into his torso, and Conor let go of all the extraneous thoughts flying through his head. “You smell like success,” she said as she stretched up to kiss him.

  Had he misheard what she’d said? “What?”

  “You smell delicious.” Then, wrapping a hand around his neck, grazing the flesh with her talons, she pulled his head down to hers. She pressed his lips into her full, pink ones and a surge of chemicals dumped into Conor’s bloodstream, preparing him for the mating ritual. Her lips were soft and felt almost right—but her tongue fought with his, tasted foreign, not like what he’d been expecting, her musky perfume clashing with the spicy smells he’d anticipated.

  But he would power through it.

  As he adjusted to her kisses, he began exploring her back with his hands. Yes, her body was firm, curvy, and well-maintained—but it wasn’t the body he’d wanted to run his hands over.

  This wasn’t right.

  But Raquel ended the kiss and stepped back enough, pulling her skin-tight dress up and then over her head. Oh, there was no doubt she was a gorgeous woman…and Conor would be a fool not to take what she was offering. So when she sauntered up to him in nothing but white panties, bra, and heels, he took her in his arms and kissed her like there was no tomorrow.

  Chapter Fifteen

  CONOR HAMMOND WAS was a scum-sucking asshole.

  Seriously. How had she never seen it before? Maybe working together—yet rarely socializing with one another—had something to do with it. When you had to be professional and put on your best self or else risk losing customers (and an employee), maybe you avoided being the jerk you were at the core.

  That had to be it.

  But, as she forced herself to not shove clothes in the suitcase, instead folding them so they wouldn’t wrinkle, no matter how her anger urged her to throw caution to the wind, she tried to figure out another reason for his behavior. How could he even dare to accuse her of doing the same thing he’d been doing, and all after having a highly unprofessional romp in the hay the night before?

  After seeming to be the smartest guy she knew, Conor now appeared to be one of the dumbest. Fuming, she tried to push all those thoughts out of her mind, focusing merely on packing up everything so she could make a clean getaway. Without even looking it up, she knew she had enough money on her credit card to rent a cab to get to the airport—although it was in the next town. At least, she thought she had enough.

  She owned the rash decision. The fallout could be dealt with later.

  She went to the bathroom to gather up her makeup and other toiletries when she heard the main door open. “I’m sorry. I don’t need housekeeping right now,” she said as she exited the bathroom, cradling all manner of things in her arms.

  But it wasn’t housekeeping.

  It was Conor.

  “What do you want?”

  “What are you doing, Morgan?”

  “What does it look like? I’m leaving.”

  “Hey, I wanted to apologize…tell you I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

  “Well…you did a pretty good job for not intending it.”

  She could see confusion in Conor’s chestnut eyes. “Don’t go.”

  “Why not? I think you already got what you wanted at this damned reunion—deflecting the women you didn’t want but snagging the one you did…so you really don’t need me anymore.” She stormed in the bedroom and dropped the contents of her arms into the open suitcase on the bed.

  “No, not really.” He followed her, getting close enough to touch her upper arm with his hand. “Raquel…I might have thought I wanted her, but I don’t. And spending time with her confirmed that. So thank you for helping me figure it out.”

  Morgan grimaced but couldn’t compel her body to back away from him. She could figuratively stab him, though. “That’s what you paid me to do. But I didn’t help you figure it out anyway.”

  “Yes, you did, even if you don’t realize it.”

  She bristled at the thought of helping him with his woman problems now, and that helped her pull away and begin marching back to the bathroom to gather up what was left.

  “Morgan, would you stop?”

  “I’m busy, Conor. Leave me alone.”

  “Dammit, woman, you’re so stubborn.” Morgan snorted while walking over to the shower, double checking that she’d gotten everything out of there. When she turned, Conor was right in front of her. “Tell me you didn’t feel anything last night.”

  Was he really going to bring up that up? Something that should be buried ancient history, never to be spoken of again? Seriously…thinking about it ruined everything. “It doesn’t matter what I felt.”

  “It does, Morgan. I know you want to pretend it didn’t happen, but it did.”

  She swallowed, unable to deny the look in his eyes. Not only did he not want to pretend last night didn’t happen, she knew he was remembering the details. And when Conor’s eyes got dark like they were now, like they’d been last night, she found herself wanting nothing more than to feel him inside her once again.

  But that was dangerous—because if she thought she felt something for him now, a second time would make it lots worse.

  She took a step back until her shoe hit the tub, making it impossible to put any significant distance between them. “Okay, but that doesn’t mean we have to analyze the shit out of it, Conor. What’s done is done.”

  One step closer and all she could feel was the heat between their bodies, palpable, alive. “It’s not that simple, and you know it. It might be done, but it lingers…”

  Morgan swallowed, looking up into those captivating umber orbs. This time, as his face approached hers, she wasn’t pushing him away. As he gazed in her eyes, he brought his hand to her face and, cupping her jaw, brushed his thumb against her lower lip. She couldn’t help the automatic response of her body, begging him to touch her in more places, and she closed her eyes—whether to try to block out the emotions or invite them in, she didn’t know. But by the time his lips tou
ched hers, she grabbed the front of his shirt to pull him firmly against her.

  She couldn’t deny her baser feelings any longer.

  And she decided that, if she was going to allow this to happen, she was going to own it—take charge, even. So she wrapped one hand around the nape of his neck and met his tongue with hers with force.

  God, he tasted so good. How had she forgotten the flavor of his mouth already? It could so easily become her heroine.

  As the kiss intensified, Morgan felt her nipples grow rigid as her breathing deepened. Holy fuck. Conor Hammond most definitely was an asshole—but he was amazing in bed and impossible to resist…and she wasn’t going to deny herself one last roll in the hay.

  * * *

  Conor could feel in the tightness of her muscles that Morgan was trying to resist him but failing miserably. If she pushed him away or cut him off or even just said no, he’d walk away, no questions asked. He’d have balls as blue as the Colorado sky, but he’d back off just the same.

  Fortunately, his instincts were spot on. Morgan was responding to his touch like a wilting flower sucks up water. She might have told him none of what happened before mattered, but she was lying to herself if she really thought that. They now had a history and even if her logical mind wanted nothing to do with him, her body remembered.

  His did, too.

  He kissed down the side of her neck and he could hear how the quality of her breathing changed in response. No longer steady, the air travelling to her lungs sounded slight and jagged—and his body reacted to it, letting the first surge of blood charge below his belt in anticipation of what was to come.

  The way her nails dug into his neck only fueled the fire.

  He continued tasting the sweet flesh of her neck, licking and kissing until he got to the front of her throat. Once there, Morgan shoved her fingers into the hair on the back of his head, seeming to demand that he kiss her on the lips again, and he obliged. But then he sucked on her lower lip while running his tongue along that sensitive area in his mouth, as if savoring a lollipop.

  His cock began to throb, and there was no stopping it. Hard as he tried, he couldn’t make it stop. Morgan might have thought this behavior was thanks to Raquel, but that woman, even with the small nostalgic attraction he felt for her, couldn’t have elicited this response. His cock was hard for Morgan, and it wouldn’t be satiated until he felt her walls closing in on him once more.

  But he wasn’t going to start removing her clothes—yet. He needed her to give him a signal first, like taking them off herself. It would be the only way he’d know for certain that he wasn’t coercing her or making her do something she truly didn’t want to.

  And he got his first sign shortly after that, when her hands worked their way up underneath his t-shirt. Her fingers were warm but they felt tingly against his skin, as if she were a live wire sending arcs of electricity into his flesh, sending more blood diving down his body, making his head feel almost airy. His heart was pumping harder now, his breathing deeper, his muscles tight, ready for the ultimate release.

  As her hands made their way up his belly, he decided it was time to get her undressed, too. His fingers grasped her first button and pulled it through the hole and he left her lips still wanting more so he could kiss her at the divot where her throat met her body, the little hollow that seemed vulnerable but sexy and irresistible to him. And the way her breathing changed again at the touch of his lips further aroused him more than any aphrodisiac might. His fingers continued working their way down her blouse, undoing one button at a time while he felt her hands move to his back, still underneath his shirt.

  Once he had her blouse completely open, he kissed at her cleavage, wanting to run his tongue over every square inch of her beautiful body—but before he could begin, she yanked on his shirt from the back, demanding that he pull it up over his head. He grabbed it at the front to help her get it off and, as he pulled it off his arms, her lips attacked his chest. She took his nipple in her lips and sucked on it before swirling her tongue all around. Conor never would have guessed what a turn on that would be or that the area was even sensitive. He’d had women tongue his taint and asshole, between his toes, suck on his fingers, lick behind his ears—and it was all good—but this was something new yet simple.

  And fucking amazing.

  If he’d thought the blood was stampeding toward his cock before, he’d had no idea. He could now hear his heartbeat in his ears, and the rhythm was quickening.

  In the meantime, that lacy little red bra Morgan hid her breasts behind was taunting him, so while she licked his nipple, sending hints of ecstasy to come through his nerves, he forced his hands to respond to his brain’s command, and he slid them up her back until he encountered her bra strap below her shoulder blades.

  Damn it. There were no clasps back there.

  Which meant it must hook in front.

  That was okay, because he glided his hands around, letting first his palms brush over her nipples, pebbly even through the fabric, and then he turned his hands so that his fingers met in the middle to work the two sides apart.

  While he undid the clasp, Morgan’s fingernails grazed the flesh of his abs, sending a fresh wave of chemicals through his body, making his head feel light again. His breath caught then, as if stopped by a physical force, and his cock throbbed, letting him know his body was on fire, fully primed—not that he’d needed much coercion.

  Morgan, on the other hand, might need more from him—and he was more than happy to oblige. The clasp undone, he pushed the cup holding her left breast aside, taking her nipple in his mouth, savoring both the flavor and firmness of her sensitive flesh. While his tongue worked, his hand removed the opposite cup and his thumb found the other hardened areola and gave it the attention it craved. Meanwhile, Morgan’s fingers were unbuttoning his jeans, keeping his mind preoccupied and distracted, making it more difficult to focus on her needs.

  The last rational thought he experienced was hoping to hell she didn’t mind that they were nowhere near a bed—because he was going to fuck her right here and in short order.

  If she was ready, of course—and there was one sure way to tell.

  Conor met her lips again, hoping to get her to pause in her relentless pursuit of his cock. Oh, he wanted her touching him there, but he had a mission to complete first, and that was to discover if her pussy really wanted him inside her. So he kissed her firmly and she responded, the motion of her fingers slowing as his sped up, unfastening her jeans, pulling down the zipper, and then entering inside. He fingered the lacy top of her panties, and his cock throbbed once more, eager to plunge deep inside her. It was all but inaudible, but his heightened senses heard the slight gasp, felt how her fingers clenched around the sides of his jeans as if she needed something, anything, to hold onto.

  Working his way inside her pants, he slid his fingers over the top of her panties. The space restricted movement, but as his middle finger rubbed over the silky fabric, he couldn’t mistake the slick wetness that had soaked completely through. Knowing she was as turned on by him as he was her was the height of arousal, and his kiss grew harder, mirroring how his cock wanted to ram into her pussy, sending waves of pleasure throughout both their bodies.

  Sliding his finger back with the intent of leaving that tight space in order to pull her jeans off, he rethought his stance as she breathed a soft moan, the sound of her voice like a caress on his eardrum. Instead of pounding into her immediately, he could bring her even closer to the brink of orgasm now. So he moved his finger side to side over the hard nub, hoping to increase her pleasure and excitement.

  That her breathing changed to deep gulps from tiny desperate pants told him he was working his magic. She let out another groan and he buried his head in her neck to give his mouth something to do, to help him remain patient while he helped increase her arousal. But as he continued to stroke her, she removed her hands from his chest and grabbed the sides of her jeans to shimmy them down past her hips, and
he suddenly had more room to maneuver.

  This was turning out to be easier than he’d expected.

  Even though there was more space for his hand, Conor didn’t want to move his finger from outside to inside her panties for fear of breaking whatever spell they’d cast. Morgan was on the verge of climax and he was getting pretty damned close, too, so he decided to just keep doing what he was doing. She’d responded well to a similar technique yesterday, so why not do that again?

  “Mmm.” God, he could listen to the sound of her voice all day. That purr alone was a hell of a turn on. While all her muscles felt taut, her voice sounded like jelly, like she was melting into his hands. So he kept swirling that finger, increasing the pressure and speed just slightly until her breathing picked up tempo.

  All but scrambling, Morgan grabbed her jeans and panties and pulled them down farther, and the way she bent made it impossible for Conor to keep his finger in place. After a second, he realized she was getting ready to join, so he followed suit, pulling his jeans down his legs. Before he could pull them completely off, though, Morgan had hers off one foot and demanded his complete attention. Grabbing his jaw, she kissed him hard on the mouth. He knew what she needed, even though she didn’t say a word. Too desperate to seek out a soft piece of furniture, he wrapped his arms around her just to lift her up on the counter—which put her at the perfect level.

  They hadn’t used a condom the day before, hadn’t even thought to, so he knew he’d be okay without it now. Consuming her mouth once more, he slid her forward on the counter and she wrapped her legs around him, ready to take in his entire length.