Kinky Claus (3 page)

Grimacing, she wiggled out of her pants and yanked her sweater over her head before surveying her plain cotton bra and panties. Like there was any chance in hell she’d have invited Trig in here while she was wearing those. Even if she was decked head to toe in Victoria’s Secret, being half naked with him in a confined space was a whole heap of trouble waiting to happen.

Mm, but at least it would have been
sexy
trouble. Turning sideways, she glanced at her reflection and slowly slipped her bra straps down, imagining Trig performing the act. Her skin flushed and goose-pebbled as the fantasy took shape. He’d run his fingertips along her arms and the outer swell of her breasts, tormenting her until she was too weak-kneed to support her own weight. Being ever the gentleman, he’d steady her by pulling her snug to him, ensuring that the firm, hard pressure of his cock nudged against the small of her back. Next he’d cup his hands around her breasts before deftly flicking the hook and eye closure open and peeling the garment aside, enabling him to pinch her nipples ever so lightly.

Shivering, she dropped her hands from her breasts before she supplied some epically embarrassing footage for the person manning the fitting room security cameras. She hastily pulled the dress on and scanned her image in the mirrors. Definitely not cut low enough for Jane’s tastes, but surely the sassy little side leg slit redeemed the outfit somewhat. Plus it was well under her budget, so double bonus. After returning the dress to its hanger, she changed back into her clothes and abandoned her claustrophobic cubicle. Now to pay up and vamoose out of there before Trig attempted to seduce her out of her panties.

He was waiting for her outside of the fitting rooms, of course. His smoky gaze once again swept her in that way that brought delicious tingles to her skin. “How did it look?”

“Good, I think.”

“Shoulda invited me in for a second opinion.”

“Right, and we know how that would have ended.” Blushing, she averted her gaze from Trig’s sparkling one.

“Ah, been thinking about it, have we?”

“No.”

“Liar.” He leaned down so he could whisper in her ear. “Bet those mirrors in there gave you some interesting ideas.”

Recalling the naughty scenario that’d run through her mind moments ago, she cleared her throat. “The only idea they gave me is that I should probably cut back on the Krispy Kremes.”

“Nah, I prefer a woman with some luscious curves.” Trig’s focus dipped to the front of her sweater and lingered there like a physical caress. “And, baby, you’ve got 'em in spades.”

It wasn’t the first time a man blatantly checked out the girls before, but Trig managed to do it in a way that didn’t leave her feeling like she needed to shower with a Brillo pad. Still, there was no denying the appreciative glint in his eyes, and that definitely wasn’t something she should encourage.

No matter how badly she wanted to.

Relief zip-lined through her when she spotted Jane hustling in their direction. At least Trig would have to be on a semblance of good behavior with his sister in close proximity.

Jane hauled short next to Marissa. “You about ready to buy that frumpy thing and hit the road?”

Ignoring Jane’s unflattering assessment of the dress, Marissa nodded. “But I also need to swing by the shoe and hosiery department.”

“Crap. I just told Reggie I’d meet him at the office in half an hour.”

Marissa frowned as Jane began digging in her purse. “What’s going on at the office?”

“Oh, he’s freaking out over tomorrow’s presentation. Why they made him project manager on this one is beyond me.” Jane located her cell phone and thumbed the message icon. “Do you think you can find what you need in five minutes? If so, I can still drop you off at home. Otherwise you might be stuck waiting around at my office while I help Reg get this PowerPoint nailed down.”

Five minutes to find the perfect heels and accessories? Not freakin’ likely. “Uh—”

“I’ll take Rissa home.”

Marissa whipped her head in Trig’s direction. “You don’t have to do that.”

“I don’t mind.” Judging from the humor dancing in his gaze, the troublemaker was relishing the opportunity to make her squirm some more.

Jane tossed her cell back into her purse and eyed Trig shrewdly. “Really gunning to get that software, aren’t you?”

Trig adopted the fakest angelic smile in existence. “I have no idea what you’re referring to.”

Snorting, Jane leaned forward and offered Marissa a hasty hug. “Sorry I’m cutting out on you early. And you know I’m just giving you shit about the dress. You’ll have Mr. Lucky popping a boner the second he sees you.” Paying no heed to Marissa’s grimace, Jane turned to her brother. “Be nice to my girl or you’re going to hear it from me later, capiche?”

“I’ll be the picture of gentlemanly behavior.”

Resisting the urge to roll her eyes at that huge fat lie, Marissa gusted a resigned exhalation as Jane hurried toward the escalators. Once her best friend was out of earshot, Marissa shifted her attention to Trig. “That was very sneaky of you.”

He shrugged. “Not like I arranged for her to get called in to work.”

“No, but you also didn’t lose any time taking advantage of it either.”

“Hell, my mama raised no dummy.” 

Despite her best effort to corral it, her laugh snuck loose. Shaking her head, she pivoted toward the checkout. “What am I going to do with you?”

“Is that a rhetorical question? Because I’ve got some suggestions.” He waggled his eyebrows. “A few don’t even require whipped cream and handcuffs.”

Oh sweet Jesus. Like she needed that visual added to the raunch-fest in her head. Killing her whimper, she handed the dress to the salesclerk manning the register. Judging from the woman’s smirk, she’d overheard their conversation. Studiously avoiding any further direct eye contact with her, Marissa fetched her credit card and swiped it through the reader once she was given her total. A few seconds later she accepted her receipt and snatched her bag. She stepped away from the checkout, and Trig immediately crooked his arm around her waist, the devilish twinkle in his eyes confirming her worst suspicions. His naughty flirtations were about to be cranked up to maximum output.

Midway in their journey to the shoe department his fingertips snuck beneath the hem of her sweater and brushed across her skin in a ticklish caress. She reflexively jumped and shot him a peevish look when he chuckled. “Keep it up, and I’ll tell Jane how bad you’re being.”

“Go right ahead.” The wicked challenge in his gaze made it clear that he was all too willing to call her on her bluff.

Snuffing her groan, she shuffled toward the closest display of blinged-out high heels. She picked up a black strappy number and checked the price. On the plus side, she wouldn’t have to take out a second mortgage to afford the shoes. She glanced at Trig. “What do you think?”

“You’d look fucking hot wearing those and nothing else.”

She shivered at the low, seductive timbre of his voice. “I doubt my boss would approve of me showing up at the party with only shoes on.”

“I was thinking more along the lines of the private party you and I could have afterwards.”

She swallowed hard. “I already told you that’s out of the question. We shouldn’t even be going to my office party together.”

“And
I
told you not to worry about Jane or any of the other things you brought up.” He played with the loose strand of hair that’d fallen across her cheek, his knuckles grazing her skin lightly.

A shaky breath lodging in her throat, she licked her lips. Trig’s pupils dilated as he visually tracked the movement of her tongue. Oh Lord. If he kissed her right now she’d be done for. There’d be no going back. It’d take a freakin’ miracle not to rip his clothes off and jump him on the spot.

Trig’s fingers abandoned her hair and traced the curve of her cheekbone. “We’re two consenting adults who happen to be attracted to each other. Nothing wrong with acting on that.”

The sinful persuasion in his low baritone was an invitation all on its own. Add in the combustible heat in his eyes, and she was straddling a dangerous line of giving into every illicit craving he brought out in her. Gulping, she clutched the shoe to her chest and scanned desperately for a salesperson. The instant she spotted Mr. GQ-with-a-name-tag her breath released in a relieved exhale and she waved the high heel in frantic entreaty.

The man headed in their direction, and Trig grunted. After giving the salesclerk her shoe size and watching him beeline for the stockroom, she hustled to a nearby upholstered bench and plopped her butt down. Trig settled in the space next to her and stretched out his long legs before leaning his knee against hers. Even that innocent contact rocketed her physical awareness of him into the stratosphere. Pretending she was oblivious to his presence proved impossible seeing how he was an irresistible force field of pure temptation reeling her in. Tearing her gaze from his denim-clad muscular thigh, she wedged her coat and purse between them, earning a chuckle from Trig.

Wrinkling her nose, she sent him a peevish glance. “You’re really enjoying this, aren’t you?”

“What? Getting cock-blocked by a yuppie shoe salesman and your purse? Hardly.”

“No, making me sweat.”

“I can think of far more enjoyable ways to make you sweat than this.”

One of these days she’d get the memo about not providing him countless opportunities for naughty innuendo. Sucking in a steadying breath, she pinned her focus on the doorway the salesclerk had disappeared through. Maybe if she stared at it hard enough he’d magically reappear.

Good grief. How in the world was she going to survive an entire night of Trig? Her wayward mind immediately took that as an open invitation to conjure a provocative image of him slowly licking his way down her quivering belly while she was spread-eagled beneath him. She quickly shook her head to dislodge the visual. No, no, no. Definitely
not
what she’d meant, damn it.

“So why is my sis all dead set on getting you laid at your office party? Not that I’m against that plan, obviously.”

She killed a groan. “You know Jane. She’s the reigning Dick Whisperer.”

Trig grimaced. “I don’t even wanna know what that means.”

“Sex is pretty much her answer to everything.” Sighing, Marissa fiddled with the stitching on her purse strap. “I really can’t be mad at her though. She’s been worried about me ever since the fiasco with the McHottie.”

Trig arched his brows. “McHottie? Do I need to get my ass-kicking boots on?”

She rolled her lips to hide her smile. “Um, no.” It was probably silly to appreciate the offer and the tiny spark of jealousy in his fierce expression. That last part was likely just part of his flirtatious game.

Crap, he probably never had to worry about a lack of repeat client bookings if he was this attentive and outrageously sexy with all of his dates. It was a sobering realization, but one she’d do well to remember. Their situation was complicated enough without her misconstruing the facts. Bottom line, she’d hired Trig, and that made her a job to him. Yes, she didn’t doubt that his attraction to her was sincere, crazy as it may be. She could count on one hand the number of times a gorgeous hunk had made a play for her, and still have five fingers left over. So it was easy to get carried away with this fantasy of Trig being interested in her. But who knew what was motivating his attraction? The forbidden thrill of banging one of his sister’s friends?

Jeez, talk about a horribly cynical thought. Still, it was a distinct possibility. It made more sense than the absurd notion that he turned into a raging lust fiend whenever he was around her. Then again, maybe he was a total horndog and anyone short of a toothless snagglepuss gave him an insta boner.

She cringed—both at the suggestion and the scornful voice in her head that insisted on shining an unflattering light on his attraction to her. Why was it so damn difficult to believe it didn’t come with some seedy side effect?

You know why.
Twenty-five plus years starring as the trusted Buddy Girl came with its own truckload of side effects. Namely, the unshakable peskiness of a little thing called reality. In other words, the vast majority of men seemed way more eager to be her BFF than take her home for a night of wild monkey sex. It was just a damn good thing she had big boobs. Otherwise at the rate she typically struck out, there was a better than decent chance she’d still be a freakin’ virgin.

“You plannin’ to tell me about this guy?”

Trig’s unexpected demand snapped her out of her surly musings. She blinked at him. “What guy?”

“Your McHottie.” He waved a hand impatiently. The gesture reminded her so much of Jane, it took a moment to recall who he was referring to.

“First of all, he’s not exactly mine.” She averted her gaze. “And I’d rather not talk about it.”

“Did he hurt you?”

She jerked her focus back to him. The grim set of his features didn’t gel with the gentleness of his tone. She shook her head. “We barely know each other. In fact, pretty much not at all.”

He frowned. “I don’t understand.”

There was no way she was telling him that she’d wasted six months of her life obsessively stalking some cute stranger in the office suite across from hers. Or as Jane and Sid had been kind enough to call it—covertly acquiring intel on potential boyfriend material. No matter how you phrased it she’d look like a major loser. “I liked him, but he, uh, liked dick.”