Winning Her Over (14 page)

In short order he had bundled her into a cab, trying to keep his distance during the ride as he attempted to restore his self-control. His rangy frame radiated a taut urgency. She placed a soothing hand on his upper thigh—well, she’d intended it to be soothing, at any rate.

Before she could process what was happening, he’d engulfed her in his embrace. His tongue slid into her mouth, and he thumbed her nipple as his palm caressed her breast.

Her hand cupped his erection, which jumped beneath her touch. She just bet it was covered with slippery pre-come, all warm and musky and smelling of Cal.

She might have moaned. Cal definitely did.

It didn’t take long before they arrived at Brenna’s apartment. When they broke apart, panting and breathless, his pupils were blown, leaving just a rim of smoky silver remaining around the edges.

He practically threw a twenty at the cabbie as he ushered her out of the back seat. She held the foyer door open for him, then launched herself up the three flights of stairs, knowing he’d be close behind.

At the top, she struggled to unlock her door. It wasn’t helping that every single inch of his erection was pressed up against her butt, while his fingers curled possessively around her hips.

“Cal, you’re just going to make me take longer,” she protested in a quavering voice. He merely bent down and started nibbling and sucking on the sweet spot along the tendon in her neck. She shivered, her fine motor skills deserting her.

Finally they burst through the door, slamming it behind them as they rushed for the sofa, clothes and shoes flying everywhere. The bedroom was simply too far away and their need was too great.

He urged her onto her knees, and she braced her hands against the sofa’s back, her hair cascading over one shoulder as she looked up at him behind her. In this position, her thighs were spread and her buttocks tilted upward. She trembled with desire, imagining Cal seeing her pussy all soft, and open, and wet.

Without a word he rolled on a condom—prepared, as always—and mounted her. Lining up the head of his cock against her, he drove it home, spearing deep into her with a tortured groan. Within a few strokes, his rhythm had become fast and hard, accompanied by little grunts of effort.

Oh yeah, her bull had busted through the paddock fence, all right.

Her head dropped down. She reached for her swollen clit, busily working it as Cal pounded into her.

“Christ, Bren,” he panted. “You feel so fuckin’ good.”

Brenna rubbed faster, the strain in his voice spurring her on. Her orgasm was building, and his big, warm body suddenly covered her, the slightly roughened pad of his finger displacing hers. She let out a whimper at the burst of pure pleasure catalyzed by his touch.

His next words were strangled, incoherent. “I’m not… I can’t…”

The idea of Cal robbed of the power of speech nearly blinded her with lust. Her arousal spiked as she tumbled into an orgasm, shrieking as it ripped through her.

“Oh my God!” he exclaimed. Then his hot mouth was on her neck as he shuddered and moaned his climax against her skin.

They remained there like that for a minute, Cal’s breath puffing against the back of her shoulder between the kisses he nuzzled onto her.

“That was amazing,” he said. “You’re amazing.” He gently pulled out of her and dealt with the condom. Then he eased onto the sofa and guided her into his lap, bringing them chest to chest, skin to skin.

She straddled his muscular thighs, and his arms immediately came around her, crushing her to him in the most wonderful way. With his dear, handsome face cupped in her hands, she kissed him—mouth, cheeks, jaw, neck, mouth again—desperately trying to erase the weeks they’d been apart.

“Ah, Bren,” he murmured. “I need you so much.”

“Need you, too,” she said between kisses.

His embrace eased, and his hands began softly tracing up and down her back. “Not just for sex. For everything.”

“I know. Me too.”

And then his arms wrapped her up again, so tight there was barely room to breathe.

“I want so badly to say, ‘Let’s not fight again,’ and for you to agree,” he said. “But I know that’s not realistic.”

He pulled back, and his eyes were clear, his expression earnest. “So instead I’m going to say, let’s not break up again, when we fight. Let’s talk about whatever it is, and work it out. Because I think we’re really good together.”

Despite being more practical than romantic, his words gave her a rush of confidence in their future. “I agree,” she said with a smile. “Wanna seal it with a kiss?”

Cal nodded, his own smile turning mischievous. “Though we still have a serious kiss deficit from last month.”

“Then we’d better get cracking.” And she bent her face to his, dropping the first of those kisses onto his soft, sweet lips.

“
B
ren
!” Cal called over his shoulder
in the direction of the bathroom door. “Come out of there, I don’t want us to be late. And I want to see you in that dress.”

He was already in his tux, silver cuff links gleaming from his French cuffs. He frowned at his hair in the mirror. Maybe Brenna could help him style it. If she ever came out of the bathroom, that is.

She’d refused to let him see the dress she’d bought for the Partner Prom, though she’d revealed what color it was—champagne blush, whatever that meant. He imagined her clad in frothy bubbles. He imagined licking frothy bubbles off all of his favorite places—the spot on the side of her neck that made her shiver; the fine, slightly paler skin at the top of her throat; her rose-petal soft inner thighs; around and around each dusky nipple…

He started guiltily when the bathroom door clicked open and Brenna made her grand entrance.

“Oh my gosh, look at you!” she enthused.

He’d completely forgotten he was wearing a tuxedo. Because she was poured into a lustrous pale pink gown that slid silkily over her curves. Two tiny straps held the dress up at each shoulder. An off-center slit up the front revealed a breathtaking glimpse of her long, toned legs. And holy hell, she wore sexy stiletto heels that he knew he’d be telling her to leave on when he finally gave in and hustled her back to their hotel room later that night.

He’d seen her in plenty of dresses before, but never a dress like this. She was the picture of confident, stylish elegance. Yet at the same time, she’d never looked sexier.

His gaze lifted to hers once more. He regarded her helplessly, digging deep for the words to express how she looked. How she made him feel.

“Wow,” he breathed.

Those gorgeous, golden brown eyes sparkled with mischief. “You haven’t even seen the back yet.” And she pirouetted a half-turn.

He groaned. “Oh my God, Bren. You’re killing me.”

The dress scooped low, plunging nearly to her waist. In a miracle of engineering, the two straps at each shoulder criss-crossed her upper back, holding the otherwise backless dress close to her body.

He wanted to keep her all to himself in their luxury hotel room’s king-sized bed, warm and naked. Except for those fuck-me shoes; they could stay on.

He wanted to show her off, introduce her to Jordie so maybe the man would finally understand why he had to move to Boston.

He wanted to shout to the world that she was
his,
and no one else’s.

Brenna swung back to face him. “Didn’t you say we were going to be late?” Her smug grin was adorable. She could clearly tell the effect she had on him, and she was enjoying it immensely.

“Yes,” he managed to croak. Time no longer mattered, however.

She crossed her arms, which merely plumped her luscious little breasts up above the dress’s draping neckline. “Cal, I took a day and a half off from work for this. I don’t want to miss dinner.”

He shook his head, regaining his senses. Of course they couldn’t miss dinner.

“Right.” He paused to collect his scattered thoughts. “Can you do something with my hair? It’s not working.”

She looked him up and down like the vixen she usually hid inside. “I dunno, that bed-head vibe you’ve got going works pretty darned well for me.”

“Bren, you know I can’t go down there like this. You can mess my hair up all you want after it’s over.”

“Trust me, I will,” she assured him as she sat him down in the desk chair.

Five minutes later she’d worked some kind of magic he was pretty sure he could never replicate on his own, and his hair looked perfect. But Brenna was still missing something, he remembered as he stood up.

“You’re not ready,” he said.

“Yes, I am,” she insisted.

“You look…unadorned.”

“What?”

“Allow me to take care of that for you.” And he pulled a small rectangular jewelry box out of his pocket.

“Cal,” she protested delightedly, “you didn’t need to do that.”

“Open it,” was all he said.

He’d spent several weeks looking for exactly the right present. After seeing her in that dress, with loose tendrils escaping from her upswept hair, he was even more certain he’d chosen wisely.

She lifted the box’s lid to reveal round diamond studs set in white gold, each with a little chain attached to a dangling barely-pink freshwater pearl. “Cal, they’re beautiful.” Her eyes shone when they met his. “Thank you.”

“It’s my pleasure,” he said, and meant it.

She put the earrings on, then tilted her face up for a kiss.

He meant to give her just a chaste brush of the lips. But she melted against him, her lips parting, and he couldn’t resist sliding the tip of his tongue between them. She moaned softly into his mouth, her tongue tip flicking against his, and his hands came around her upper back, pressing against the silkiness of bare skin. He tugged her closer, settling the cradle of her hips against his groin.

It would be so easy to lay her down on that huge expanse of a bed. Surely they could miss part of the cocktail hour without raising too many eyebrows. Couldn’t they?

Cal knew better, much as he wished he didn’t.

Reluctantly, he pulled away, breathing hard. Brenna’s lipstick had somehow remained unsmudged, but her lips were swollen from his kisses, and it made him all kinds of crazy.

“Now we’re both ready,” he said, though his pulse still raced. “Nervous?”

“A little.” She took his arm. “I’m also kind of excited. I like getting all dressed up, and it’s been a long time since I’ve had a reason to.”

“I like you getting all dressed up, too,” he said with a waggle of his eyebrows, covering her hand with his own.

He escorted her up to the spectacular high-ceilinged ballroom foyer, where cocktails were already being served. The mood was festive. Hundreds of formally dressed attorneys and their guests milled around, greeted each other, and made heavy inroads into the well-stocked open bar.

They found a smaller bar on one side of the room, where the press of guests was only three deep. Joining them in line were Jordie and Lara, who—to Cal’s surprise—had accompanied each other to the event. Cal was enormously pleased to introduce Brenna to them as his girlfriend.

The foursome chatted while they waited to order their drinks. When Lara was busy admiring Brenna’s new earrings, Jordie gave Cal a surreptitious thumbs-up.

Then he leaned closer to Cal. “Golden unicorn, dude,” Jordie whispered hoarsely, shaking his head in disbelieving approval.

This time, Cal refused to pass up the opportunity to ask, “What does that even mean?”

The reply was typical Jordie—surprisingly deep, overlaid with his quirky sense of humor. “Something so rare and wonderful you can’t believe it actually exists.”

Well, that certainly summed up Brenna.

Cal nodded, conceding the point. He still sometimes couldn’t quite believe they’d ended up together, or that what they had was so special.

After an eternity, they got their drinks and were free to mingle with the crowd. Since Brenna and Lara had hit it off, the four agreed to meet up again for dinner. Jordie insisted they should sit near the stage, but refused to explain why.

His reason became clear as they waited for the dessert course to be served. CMH’s managing partner stepped up to the microphone and spoke for several minutes about the firm’s key successes in the previous year and its rosy prospects for the next one. Then he congratulated all the new partners and, one by one, called them up to the stage to introduce them to the rest of the partnership.

At least Cal had some warning, since his name was at the end of the alphabet. He felt a bit bad for Tiffany Alaki, who looked both honored and charmingly shell-shocked when she crossed the stage to shake the managing partner’s hand and receive the applause of her peers, almost like a graduation ceremony. Which wasn’t a bad analogy, when he considered it further in the minutes before his own name was called.

By the time he sat down again, the eleven-piece band had struck up some jazzy background music, and dessert and coffee had been served. Cal eyed the plates in front of him and Brenna with mild alarm—the slices of cake looked very layered and very, very chocolatey.

“I wanted to wait ’til you got back before I tasted it,” Brenna said. The flirtatious undertone in her seemingly polite statement was clearly for his benefit.

“Are you sure you want to eat that?”

“It’s chocolate. Of course I’m going to eat it.”

“Bren,” he warned with a smile.

“What?” She was all innocence.

Until she slipped the fork between her full, pink lips. He couldn’t tear his eyes away as her eyelids closed sensually. She swallowed, the column of her throat gently convulsing.

Then she opened her eyes and turned to him. “Not bad. But it’s not even in the same universe as the chocolate mousse at L’Avenue.” She broke off a morsel, then offered her fork to him. “Here, you try it.”

“I’ve got my own,” he said, so she ate it herself. He bent his head to her ear and whispered, “Tease.”

She swallowed her bite of cake, then she leaned toward him. “Wait ’til we’re back in our room. I’ll show you some teasing,” she purred.

Just like that his eyes unfocused, and all the blood in his body surged straight to his groin.

“I wish you hadn’t said that. I was going to ask you to dance, but now I need to wait a few minutes.”

“You poor thing.” She patted his knee, her eyes gleaming. “I’ll try a little harder not to be so sexy.”

“That is un-possible,” he muttered.

She laughed, but it only made him want to kiss her more.

Averting his eyes from her temptations, Cal scanned the crowd and noticed Grant and his wife headed toward him. Now, there was a welcome distraction if ever he needed one.

Grant parked himself between Cal and Brenna, one hand resting on each chair back, and bent down to be heard over the music and chatter.

“Cal, you remember my wife, Beth?”

“Of course.” Cal nodded a greeting at her over Grant’s shoulder, unable to move his chair without dislodging Grant.

“No, no, don’t stand up,” Grant said. “I just wanted to say hello.” He turned to the other side. “And you must be Brenna. I heard a lot about you when Cal approached me about transferring to Boston. All good things,” he assured her with a smile.

“Bren, this is Grant,” Cal said. “I was up in Boston with him for the trial back in May.”

“Oh!” She twisted in her seat, offering her hand for him to shake. “You must be the boss. I guess I should thank you. I don’t think Cal and I would have met, if it wasn’t for you.”

Grant raised his bushy brows. “The boss, eh? I like it.” His head swiveled back to Cal. “Well, I don’t want to keep the two of you from your dessert. Beth and I will see you on the dance floor later, right?”

“Absolutely,” Cal said.

Grant shifted over two seats to Cal’s right and leaned down to schmooze with Lara and Jordie, leaving Beth standing beside him with good-natured patience.

“They’re so cute,” Brenna said, turning to Cal. “His pocket square matches her dress.”

He glanced to the side. So it did. “I could try to do that next year, if you wanted.”

“Maybe. I kind of liked surprising you though,” she said with a coy smile.

“Then maybe you could buy the matching pocket square.”

“Okay,” she agreed, evidently pleased with the idea.

It thrilled him to talk so casually with her about the future, as if it was a foregone conclusion they would be together. They’d still have to work at their relationship, of course. But it was reassuring to know that at least they shared the same intention.

The band started playing a cover of Norah Jones’s “Come Away with Me,” and Cal knew the time was right. “Have you had enough of your inferior chocolate dessert?” he teased. “I want to dance with you. We’ve never danced.”

She set her fork down and briefly pressed her napkin to her lips. “It’s hard to say no to you, when you’re so eager.”

He’d have to remember that.

He stood, then pulled out Brenna’s chair as he helped her to her feet. They were only a few steps from the dance floor. “You wouldn’t happen to know how to waltz, by any chance?”

“I took social dancing for a semester in college,” she said dubiously, “but that was a long time ago…”

“Excellent.” And he swung her expertly around to face him, her left hand coming to rest on his right shoulder.

Her eyes locked on his. “Oooh, you know how to do this. I can tell.”

“I know how to do lots of things,” he said with a mischievous smile, before guiding her into the first steps of the pattern. She was very responsive to his lead, he noted with pleasure, as he swirled her around the dance floor as if they’d been partners for years.

Everyone applauded the band when the song ended. “That was wonderful!” Brenna told him, clapping her hands. “You were already off-the-charts amazing even before I knew you could dance. You just earned
so
many bonus points.”

He was about to respond when someone a few feet away from them shouted Brenna’s name. They both turned. Waving madly at them was a woman Cal didn’t recognize, dragging along a bemused-looking man Cal knew—Doug, a corporate partner in the Boston office whom Cal had reached out to several weeks ago, before his transfer.

“Brenna, it’s so unbelievable you’re here! You look gorgeous, by the way. And the way the two of you danced, wow! I thought I was watching
Dancing with the Stars
,” the woman gushed. She turned to Cal. “Hi, I’m Julie, Doug’s wife.”

“Cal Wilcox.” He shook her offered hand.

“Welcome to Boston, Cal.” Then, like a swallow in flight, Julie turned the conversation again. “Doug, this is Brenna, my new massage therapist. She is the
best
. Brenna, this is my husband, Doug.”

“Nice to meet you.” Brenna nodded at Doug, who hadn’t managed to get a word in edgewise.

“I didn’t know your boyfriend worked at CMH,” Julie said. “That’s such a coincidence!”

Brenna arched a brow. “It is indeed.” She turned to Cal, her tone dripping with exaggerated surprise. “Right, honey?”