Arrogant Bastard Page 7

My tongue wets my lower lip. “How tall are you?”

  “Six-three.”

  “That’s tall,” I say, lamely.

  “Next to you, anyone’s tall.” He pats me on the head.

  “Hey!” I bat his hand away. “You’re only thirteen inches taller than me!”

  He laughs. “I could toss you around without even breaking a sweat.”

  I poke him in the chest. “Well, since you’re never going to toss me around, I won’t have to prove to you how fierce I am.”

  He scrubs a hand over his now-stubbled jaw, looking at me all curious like. “I think you could stand a little tossing around.”

  I flick my hair over my shoulder and stand up straighter, reaching for my maximum height. “You don’t believe me, but it’s true.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  I narrow my gaze. “I grew up with two older brothers who were ruthless. I know how to fight dirty.”

  “Is that so?”

  I lean forward. “I can get very dirty.”

  His navy eyes flash. “You know you shouldn’t say stuff like that to a man.”

  “Why? It’s true.” I give him a smirk. “You should be thanking me for warning you who you’re dealing with.”

  He steps closer, stares down at me.

  I sink my teeth into my lower lip to keep from craning up to him and begging for his mouth on mine. I want it so bad. Even though I’m not supposed to want it. Even though I can’t want it.

  I do.

  Just once.

  Can’t I have just once? Is it really so wrong?

  There’s that fight again.

  His big hand slides onto my hip, and goose bumps break across my skin. His fingers wrap around the curve, not tight, not forceful, just enough to make me hyper aware of his strength.

  His attention shifts to my lips, which part involuntarily.

  “Cat.”

  “Yes.” The word is filled with anticipation.

  His head dips.

  I raise my heels, just a little.

  “You’re in my way.” He pushes me to the side and steps up to the blue line.

  I jerk out of my haze of lust and straight into infuriated, sharp arousal.

  Some sort of demon possesses me because I yell, “You jerk!” and lunge at him, climbing onto his back and pummeling his shoulders while he’s throwing.

  He laughs, catches one bare thigh with his free hand, and squeezes.

  The dart lands on the wall, bouncing off and falling to the floor.

  He shifts and dips me, swinging me around his front somehow. “Look at you. You do play dirty.”

  “Don’t mock me!” My feet hit the floor, and I try to swing at him, but he renders me useless when he wraps one of his arms around my chest and arms, immobilizing me.

  “Hey,” the bartender calls. “Everything okay over there?”

  “We’re all good,” I yell back, leaning forward, trying to get Caden off me.

  His entire body is pressed against my back, and I can feel every delicious inch of him.

  “Settle down, little girl.” His voice is in my ear.

  “Shut up. I hate you.” I press against him shamelessly.

  “I know you do.” His breath is warm on my neck.

  I arch again, and he captures my hip, forcing me still. “You’d better stop that, or we’re going to do something we both regret.”

  With that I stop pressing and grinding against him, aware of how hot my skin feels, the rapid rise and fall of my chest, the sound of my harsh breathing.

  It’s the first acknowledgment of our attraction, that we have chemistry and there’s no denying we’re veering into dangerous territory.

  I nod.

  When he speaks, it’s directly into my ear. “Are you going to be a good girl?”

  His words make my knees go weak, but since he’s holding me up, I don’t have to think about standing.

  I shake my head. “No.”

  He laughs. “But I can let you go.”

  “Yes.” My voice has regained some equilibrium.

  “Fair enough.” His arms release me and he moves, giving me an inch of space. “We should probably head home.”

  I swallow hard. “That’s probably for the best.”

  I repress the crushing disappointment. My reprieve, my little slice of heaven where I could shake the responsibility from my shoulders, is over.

  Caden

  * * *

  All I need to do is get her upstairs, make sure she gets safely into bed, and leave.

  That’s all.

  Three things. Easy.

  Under no circumstances am I to touch her. I’m finally finding my stride, and I’m not about to fuck it up because her pussy has cast a spell over me.

  We’ve just pulled up to the main house, and she’s leaning against the window, her eyes closed. I’m not quite sure she hasn’t drifted off to sleep, so I give her a nudge on the shoulder. “You’re home.”

  Her eyes open lazily, her head turning toward me as she blinks me into focus. “Thanks for driving me.”

  “You’re welcome.” My gaze rakes over her. She’s become increasingly disheveled, and I like it.

  I’d like to mess her up a lot more. I won’t, but I’d like to. I put my old pickup truck into park and shut off the engine. “Come on, let’s get you inside.”

  She shifts in the seat. “I can do it.”

  “You can, but I’m still going with you.”

  She makes no move to leave, instead leans against the window before glancing toward the house. The fine cords of her neck move. “I’m not ready to go in yet.”

  “And why’s that?”

  She meets my eyes. “I had fun tonight. I didn’t expect to, but I did.”

  “I had fun too.” I smile. “Now, let’s get you into bed.”

  My reluctance to let her go, to end the night, makes me more determined to get out of the small cab of the truck. Because, fuck, I am on the verge of doing something really stupid.

  Her head lolls a little. “Are you trying to get rid of me?”

  “Yes.” The word is blunter than I meant, though it’s the truth.

  “Why?” She puffs out her bottom lip, and I want to take a bite out of it. “Don’t you like me?”

  I chuckle, shifting to face her more fully. “I think we both know I like you a little too much.”

  Her knees hit the gear shift. “Wanna make out?”

  “Fuck, yes.”

  Full lips curve into a smile. “Then what are you waiting for?”

  I look away, the temptation of her getting to be too much. I have three things to do, and I’m stuck on the first thing, which isn’t a great sign. “I’m trying to be smart about this.”

  “Yeah, that makes the most sense.” Her voice is slow, not quite slurred, but soft. She moves, and I think she’s going to get out of the car, but instead she comes closer.

  Close enough for me to smell that clean scent of hers.

  I grit my teeth. “It’s time for bed, Cat.”

  “I know.” But instead of leaving, she climbs on top of me, straddling me with her bare legs.

  Jesus Christ. My hands settle on her small hips. “Cat.”

  She looks down at me, licking her lips. “I’m going to be embarrassed tomorrow.”

  “Don’t be.” My gaze locks on hers.

  Pick her up and put her back on the seat. But I don’t move, except to tighten my hold.

  “I was thinking…” She trails off, the words leading.

  Like an idiot, I follow them. “Sounds dangerous.”

  She sways, and her hair brushes my cheeks. “I feel like if I’m already going to be embarrassed, it should be for something good. Don’t you agree?” She puts her hands on my shoulders, leaning close so her breasts brush against my chest. “Something substantial and worthy?”

  I hiss out a breath, unable to resist the urge to rock up into her, my erection dragging between her thighs.

  She gasps, her nails digging into the cott
on of my T-shirt. “Yes, like that.”

  Honestly, I never pegged her for a temptress, but she wears it well.

  “You’re making it hard to be a gentleman.” My words come out like a growl.

  She moves her hips in a slow circle, her eyes closing, lips parting at the friction. “It feels good. It’s been so long since I felt good.”

  The statement comes out almost absentminded, like she’s not even aware she’s said it, and I file the information away to examine at another time. The next time she circles into me, I surge up, rocking into her while gripping her hips.

  At the pleasure, I bare my teeth. “I could make you feel good.”

  “Yes.” She groans.

  My head falls back against the seat as she works her hips. “I want to do the right thing here.”

  “Me too.” She moves faster, her body insistent.

  Our harsh breathing fills the air, steaming up the windows and turning them opaque. I slide my hands up her rib cage, stroking my thumbs over the curve of her breasts. “How long’s it been since a man’s touched you?”

  “Too long.” She’s panting now, using my cock where it feels the best.

  I’m not stopping this the way I should, but my restraint is still intact. I won’t fuck her, but to her point, if she’s already going to be embarrassed, it might as well be for something good. And if she can make herself come, who am I to stop her?

  She surges into me.

  I brush over her beaded nipples.

  She gasps. “Are you going to kiss me?”

  “No.” I thrust up, wishing to fucking God there wasn’t a barrier between us.

  “Why not?” Her voice is full of pout.

  “Because if I do, I’ll take control of this situation, and I won’t stop.” I continue to stroke, toying with her until she keens. “You might want me to fuck you now, but you won’t in the morning, and that’s not my style.”

  “What.” Pant. “Is.” Pant. “Your style?”

  I slip under her tank, flick my fingers over the clasp of her bra and peel the cups away. My fingers play over her puckered flesh. “Honey, if I fuck you, you’re going to want more in the morning, not to run away in mortification.”

  “More.” Her hips move faster once I start rubbing her nipples, pulling and tugging. Making her throb.

  I increase my pressure, watching every nuance of pleasure rush across her features in the moonlight. The cab is rocking, the bench creaking under our weight.

  Any restraint I possess is seriously fraying, and my self-destructive streak starts to weave tentacles through my resolve. She needs to get off. I need to see it before we’re through.

  I grit out, “Can you come like this?”

  “I don’t know.” Her head shakes. “I want to so bad.”

  I lift her shirt, stripping it off and tossing it on the seat next to me before covering her nipple with my mouth.

  She gasps and leans back, gripping my neck, pulling me closer.

  I lave her with my tongue. Her movements grow frantic and hasty, losing all rhythm as her need to orgasm becomes more urgent. I can tell she’s fighting to get there, that as good as this feels, it’s not quite enough, and she’s growing desperate.

  I’m at the edge of breaking. I’m not sure how much more I can manage without just saying fuck it and taking her.

  But I’m sober enough to know that would be a drastic mistake. My control hanging by a thread, I lift my head and whisper against her skin. “Let me help you.”

  I unbutton her shorts, sliding down the zipper. My fingers trail over her soft, flat stomach and into her panties. I curse when I find her wet and swollen.

  She throws her head back as the tips of my fingers stroke her clit. She reaches between us and grips my wrist, holding me steady, showing me exactly what she wants and needs.

  I circle her wet flesh once, twice, and on the third time she cries out, working her hips as the orgasm she’s been craving rushes over her.

  I watch every second of it, taking it all in, letting it surprise me.

  I didn’t expect her to abandon herself to her pleasure, but she does, and it’s beautiful. Her eyes are closed, her back against the steering wheel as she writhes.

  I grow greedy, wanting more. I cup her breast, rubbing my thumb over her nipple while I work my fingers, sliding them inside her tight, wet heat. I press my palm to her clit, circling while I fuck her with my fingers, my jaw hard as I turn relentless.

  Her nails dig into my skin.

  “That’s it. Be a good girl and come for me again.”

  This seems to spur her on, and since I need something else to do with my mouth besides kiss her, I start talking, never letting up.

  Thrusting and circling, I have the urge to smack her pussy, right over the clit, but I’ve caught a rhythm she seems to be lost in, and I don’t want to ruin it.

  Another time. The thought slips into my mind, and I push it away. This will be the only time. It has to be.

  I’m going to make it count, within reason. I can salvage the aftermath of this, I’m sure of it. I’m arrogant in my confidence that it won’t have any lasting repercussions. Just like I always am.

  My voice is harsh. “Work that greedy little cunt.”

  Her eyes fly open and lock on mine.

  “Do it.” The command is like gravel in my throat.

  Her hips press harder.

  I nod. “That’s it. Fuck my fingers like your life depends on it.”

  She’s practically pooling into my hand now, soaking me.

  My cock aches. I’m going to need a lot of cold showers after this, but fuck, if it’s not worth it.

  “Play with your tits.” My baser instincts rush over me.

  She leans back and cups her breasts.

  I thrust my fingers harder as she circles her nipples.

  “Look at you.”

  She moans, “More.”

  “Such a slut for me.” I grit through the words, and just like that she’s flung over the edge, crying out as she comes on my fingers, gripping me tight, milking me.

  I work my hand until the last of her contractions fade away and she collapses against my chest, heaving in great deep breaths.

  I stroke her hair as she melts into me. I brush my lips over her temple. “Feel better?”

  She nods, still panting.

  “Cat.”

  “Yes.” Her voice is sleepy now, heavy and full.

  “Tomorrow, when the embarrassment sinks in, I want you to remember something.” I still, gentle now as I cup her pussy.

  She relaxes against me. “What?”

  I chuckle. It’s a bit mean, but it’s also the truth, and I can’t help myself. I’ve had a tight leash on my true nature since I’ve been here, and I want to let it loose, to remember what it feels like.

  I stroke over her swollen flesh, and she shudders a bit. It’s a bone-deep satisfaction. “Just know that when you face me for the first time, and you’re all humiliated by your wanton actions, I’m going to know you’re sore from my fingers pounding inside you. And I want you to know, as our eyes meet, that despite all the ways you’ll hate me, I’ll know exactly how much you loved it.”

  She bats at me half-heartedly. “You’re such an arrogant bastard.”

  I whisper as she grows heavy on me, “Honey, you don’t know the half of it.”

  7

  Cat

  The second my eyes pop open, I’m horrified.

  My head pounds from the liquor I consumed, but it pales compared to my mortification.

  I mean, I predicted the consequences last night, but it’s even worse than I imagined. If only I hadn’t let alcohol make me believe I’d get over it.

  What have I done?

  My mind fills with images of me riding Caden in the car, the way he made me come.

  The things he said to me.

  The things I said to him.

  I groan, flop over onto my stomach, and shield my eyes from the sun with my arm. What exactly cam
e over me?

  Caden, that’s what.

  The man has put me under some sort of spell—plied me with tequila and a good time, and look where it got me. Despite my best efforts to stay away from him, to keep my distance, I fell into his clutches the first chance I got.

  And what really gets me, what really sticks in my craw… It’s all my fault.

  He kept his distance just fine.

  He had no problem resisting me.

  He didn’t seem to suffer any temptation at all.

  I practically begged him, and he refused me!

  Yes, he let me use him as a masturbation tool, but he hadn’t really been a participant.

  I am so mortified I’m not sure how I can face the day.

  But unfortunately, I have no choice.

  Things are crazy, and my to-do list is out of control.

  So, here’s the plan. I’m going to tackle this first thing.

  I’m not going to avoid him.

  Nor am I going to take the easy way out and avoid the subject.

  No, I’m going to march right into his office, apologize for sexually harassing him, and promise what happened last night will never happen again.

  Then I will put up all my walls and stay the hell away from Caden Landry.

  That man is dangerous.

  He makes me stupid. And reckless.

  And apparently super slutty.

  He’s bad news, and I will stay away.

  I flop over onto my back and stare up at the ceiling.

  I blow out a hard breath, ignoring the heat low in my belly at the images running rampant in my brain.

  I made this mess, and now I’ll unmake it.

  I throw off the covers.

  Time to get this trainwreck under control.

  An hour later I’ve washed away the shame, pulled my hair into a tight bun, put on jeans and a soft green T-shirt, and am marching down the path to the distillery—all no nonsense and take-charge attitude.

  Sure, my heart is pounding and my stomach feels like it might jump into my throat, but I will not be deterred.

  Luke, one of our supervisors, waves me over. “Hey, Cat, we need to talk about the employee schedule for next week.”

  For a split second I want to run to him and immerse myself in whatever issue he has, but I squash the impulse. I deal with this now. Like a Band-Aid, I’m ripping this fucker straight off.