Good Girls Don't (18 page)

Honesty ended up paying off, since Zack had a soft spot for romance. He didn’t hesitate in offering the tickets and the room again tonight. This time, Bill would take full advantage of both and give Lettie a date she’d remember forever, hopefully as much as the hot-and-heated one they’d had last night.

But for different reasons.

Last night, he’d made sure she felt sexually desired and wanted—as if she’d ever have reason to doubt. Hell, Lettie never entered a room that all heads, male and female, didn’t turn to watch.

But tonight’s goal would be more difficult to accomplish, since tonight he wanted to make certain she felt cared for emotionally. He wanted to remind her that he was more than a man with whom she’d had hot-and-heated sex. He was also her friend.

So he’d shown up for this date equipped with every weapon in his arsenal for wooing Lettie Campbell. Pink roses, a fancy restaurant, a Broadway production and their own private haven, where they could celebrate at the end of the night. And during his carefully planned itinerary, they’d talk, hold hands and get to know each other again, without sex navigating the conversation.

If everything went as planned.

Unfortunately, something had happened at the restaurant that changed her mood, and Bill was clueless as to what. But whatever had caused her retreat, it had carried over throughout the performance. She’d been extremely quiet, and although she hadn’t balked when he held her hand or draped an arm around her, she hadn’t melted into him either.

“Did you enjoy the show?” he asked as the curtain went down the final time. He’d seen the performance before, the Broadway production of
Hairspray
, but he’d never seen it with Lettie. Bill suspected he could repeat plenty of things with her, and they would seem brand-new. More intriguing, unique, because of sharing the moment with the woman he adored.

“Yes,” she answered, using no more words than necessary.

What had happened?

“She reminds me of you,” he said, pointing to the character’s photo on the front of his Playbill.

“Tracy?”

He nodded.

“You see me as overweight with big hair?” she asked, and thank goodness her teasing tone had returned. Finally.

Bill grinned. “No. But I do see you as standing out, and refusing to let your uniqueness stop you from getting what you want.”

Lettie’s slender neck pulsed as she swallowed. Her eyes widened, and the tiny golden rays pulsing from the pupils sparkled in a sea of forest green. “Bill?”

“Yeah.”

“I want you.”

Three words. Again. And, like every time before, just as potent.

He’d planned to try to keep his libido under control and woo her, at least until he took her home. But there was no way in hell he’d ever deny Lettie Campbell what she wanted. Particularly when what she wanted was him.

He reached forward and claimed her mouth.

Ignoring the people shifting around them and attempting to find passage out of the crowded theater, Bill kissed her as though they were the only two people in the room. And, thanks to his friend’s generous offer, they would be soon.

Raising his mouth from hers, he grinned. “Come on,” he said, taking her hand and leading her away from their seats.

Her smile broadened in approval. “There’s nowhere for us to go.” She indicated the congested crowd at each exit.

“Trust me.”

She blinked, and her smile said everything he needed to know, but her words also packed a powerful punch. “I do.”

Two words this time, but he hoped to hear her say them again. One day.

“Come on.” He clasped her fingers with his and headed out a side door.

Zack had provided simple directions for finding their private room, and Bill had no trouble locating the Landmarks Lounge within the theater. When the project coordinator told him the name of the suite, Bill had wondered whether it’d be elegant enough to impress Lettie Campbell. Upon entering, Bill’s uncertainties vanished.

“Where did you get that?” she asked, staring at the gold key Zack provided. Then she stepped inside, and her mouth fell open. “Wow.”

Zack had described the Landmarks as providing “1929 movie-palace allure.” Bill had to concur. It was elegant to the extreme, and everything he’d hoped for. He’d included an article about the lounge in his campaign, but even the pictures Zack had provided didn’t do it justice.

Moroccan tiled floors and walls gleamed in the flickering light of pewter candles. Gold-leaf detailing sparkled from all walls and fixtures. Exquisite mosaics abounded in all directions. Tasteful floral arrangements, with tropical flowers in vibrant hues and tantalizing scents, were placed sporadically around the marbled tables and in the recessed walls. The furniture, consisting of stately love seats and chairs, had been covered in solid black velvet.

Bill closed the door and locked it behind him. Privacy provided. Elegance provided.

Standing frozen, she took it all in, her arms held slightly out at her sides, as though maintaining her balance. He couldn’t recall ever seeing her hair pinned up before. He would’ve guessed it wasn’t possible because of her trendy short cut, but she had her waves piled high, with wisps escaping here and there adding to the appeal.

The green dress balanced on the very edge of her shoulders, plunging in a dramatic V in the front and back, and showcased smooth, silky flesh. Her skirt was longer tonight, reaching below the knees. On a normal woman, a woman without an eternity of legs, it would’ve probably stopped above the ankles. But not on Lettie Campbell, whose legs went on for days.

The high heels, a perfect match to the hue of her dress, had sexy straps lacing her slim ankles. He’d been surprised to see she’d worn stockings tonight and wondered if they stopped at her thighs.

So much for wooing her.

He wanted her again. Wanted in her again. To feel her slick, wet heat engulf him, drive him to a maddening frenzy of sexual desire and fulfillment. Hell, how would he ever convince her he wanted more than sex when he could take his pulse with his dick?

As if reading his mind, she turned, her eyes a deeper green, heavy lidded and filled with desire. “Bill?”

“Yeah.”

“You got this for me? For us?”

Now wasn’t the time to get into particulars, such as, he didn’t pay a thin dime for the privilege of the room. Besides, he
had
worked his ass off on the Fox campaign; so in a way, he’d paid for it, hadn’t he? Damn, he was getting good at being bad.

“Yeah,” he said, without so much as a flinch.

“And this?” Lettie asked, moving toward a chilled bottle of champagne and a tray of hors d’oeuvres. She turned and looked at him, and her eyes were even more ablaze, fiery with undiluted lust.

God, she thought he’d sprung for all of this. And hell, he couldn’t tell her different.

“No,” he said, crossing the room and placing both hands on her shoulders. The silky fabric tingled against his palms, as did her skin. From the moment he’d picked her up and noticed the sexy straps balancing provocatively, holding up that double V, he’d visualized exactly what he wanted to do with this dress.

Ready to bring that vision to life, he pushed the straps down to her elbows, trapping her arms at her side, while her breasts were completely bare. For him.

“It isn’t for us, Lettie. It’s for you. Everything here, me included, is all for you.”

He cupped her breasts and palmed their fullness, then massaged the swells, pushed up by the bunched fabric. Lowering his mouth to a pebbled nipple, he sucked it thoroughly, while his thumb and forefinger rolled the other. Then he swapped sides and repeated the process while Lettie squirmed, her arms straining against the binding of her sleeves.

“I can’t wait.”

Another combination of three words that made his dick want to dance. Pump. Thrust.

He pushed on the sleeves, and her dress hit the floor in a soft
whoosh
. The air in his lungs left his body with the exact same sound.

“Damn.” It was the only word that came to mind. He’d never seen anyone, anything, as erotic as the image before him. Lettie stood before him in emerald thong panties, a matching garter belt, thigh-high stockings and strappy heels. Nipples still excited from his touch protruded, evidently straining to have his lips on them again.

“I thought you’d like it,” she said.

Bill didn’t respond. Verbally. His cock responded aplenty.

“Do you? Like it?” she asked, a hint of nervousness, even shyness, in her tone.

Salivate. Yeah, that’s what he needed to do right about now. His tongue lolled about his mouth until finding the ability to help form words. “I like it.”

She reached up and removed a pin from her hair, then another, and another, dropping them to the floor, one by one. They
pinged
softly against the marble as her short blond waves toppled toward her face and neck. Then, after the last pin fell, she closed her eyes and ran her fingertips through her curls, massaging as she went, and pushing those delectable breasts out a little farther in the process. “Mmmm, that feels better.”

It was more than he could take.

Her eyes fluttered open as he lifted her from the floor.

Bill wasn’t certain how they crossed the room, but they had, with Lettie’s long, lithe legs wrapped around his waist and her wet, hot center pressed against his groin.

He set her on the marble bar, then unfastened his pants. “You want me?” he asked, freeing his aching cock. In less time than he thought possible, he sheathed his length with a condom and pushed it against her wet center.

She spread her legs wide and arched into him. “I want you.”

“Then you’ll have me.” He didn’t take time to remove her panties. His need was beyond waiting and, from the hunger in her eyes, Lettie’s was too. He shoved the damp fabric aside and plunged inside, pumping into her core while she convulsed around him, flexing and grabbing him with every stroke. He’d barely touched her clit when she began to shake and tremble, then screamed his name.

Bill pushed to the hilt, deep within her, while her slick walls engulfed him, consumed him, claimed him.

With her body still quivering from the aftershocks of multiple climaxes, Lettie turned the key in the lock and opened her apartment door. She hesitated before speaking and wondered whether the next move, one she’d been thinking about all night, would be the right one.

Should she ask him to spend the night before Erika returned? Before he learned the truth about her job?

Would he stick around once he knew she’d lied?

She bit her lip. God, she wanted to be honest with him. More than anything, she did. Well, almost more than anything. And therein was the problem. There was something she wanted more than being truthful to Bill Brannon.

She wanted Bill Brannon. With or without the truth. Any way she could have him. So much that her chest ached at the thought of losing him.

“Do you want to stay?” she whispered, timidly turning her head to view his response.

“You know I do.”

Lettie smiled, pushed the door open and led him inside. It was past three
A.M.
, so she should’ve been exhausted. She should have, but she wasn’t. Her body was alive, exhilarated at having Bill for an entire night, in her apartment, in her bed.

“Are you thirsty?” she asked, feeling as though she should go through the motions of guest etiquette, before she stripped him to that glorious birthday suit and took him straight to bed.

“No.”

“Hungry?” she asked.

“For food? No.”

Downright devilish, the look he had now. And determined. As though he knew exactly what he was hungry for, and exactly how willing she was to supply.

Lettie scanned her apartment. Did any of the items appear too personal, too in sync with her tastes to seem as though this were Amy’s place? Not really. Besides, she and her sister had similar preferences. And the photographs on display would be natural fixtures in either her place or her sister’s.

Nothing should cue him in on their co-residence. When she told him the truth, she’d tell him about her living arrangements as well. God, she hoped he’d return after he heard the fact, instead of her never-ending reserve of fiction.

“Which room do you use when you’re here?” he asked, nodding toward the bedroom doors on opposite sides of the living area.

“That one’s mine,” she said, pointing toward the left. “I even decorated it and keep a stash of clothing here. For whenever I visit.”
Liar, liar, and yep, pants on fire.

“I assume you visit often?”

Please change the subject to something that doesn’t involve a bald-faced lie,
Lettie silently pleaded.

“As often as the job sends me this way,” she answered, which was a half-truth, right? She did come home from her job. To this address. Each day. Okay, that was pushing it, but she had no choice, or she’d lose him. Correction,
might
lose him. She didn’t know for certain, and she sure wasn’t chancing it.

Not tonight.

Besides, she’d promised Amy she would let Erika return and have a chance to smooth things over with Bill.

He drew her close, nuzzled her neck, then pushed one green strap past her shoulder. “Are you ready for bed, Lettie?”

A shiver shimmied down her spine. Unfortunately, it wasn’t due to sexual desire; it was something different entirely. Fear. And it caught her so off-guard, she didn’t have a chance to stop her mouth from echoing her mind’s whispered warning.

“Is this only sex?” she blurted, then slapped a palm to her lips as though she could push the words back in. Then his hand stilled on her arm, and she knew she never could.

Breaking their connection, he stepped back, his jaw flexed and his mouth set in a straight, rigid line.

“Sorry,” she whispered. And she was. Truly.

He took one hand to his forehead and massaged his temples, then ran his palm down his face, pausing for a moment when he reached his mouth. His chocolate eyes studied her and his head shook slightly.

An arrow of intense regret pierced her heart. She turned from those beautiful eyes, walked to the couch and plopped down, her skirt fanning around her like flower petals. She glanced at the rose-filled vase.