Bad Boys After Dark: Mick (2 page)

“Don’t stop,” she repeated, stronger this time.

The hell with his distaste for bathrooms. He took her hand and pulled her down the narrow hallway toward the restrooms. She stumbled in her fuck-me boots. He gathered her against him and pushed through the men’s room door.

“Out,” he commanded to a guy who was washing his hands, and locked the door behind him.

He backed her up against the wall, kissing her hard and deep, exactly like he wanted to fuck her. Lifting her leg at the knee, he hitched it around his waist and rocked his cock against her. She tasted sweet, hot, and like the perfect remedy for his ghost-ridden week. Desperate to push past the painful memories, he shoved his other hand beneath her dress and tore her thong from her body, dropping the shredded material to the floor.

“Tell me to stop,” he growled, hoping to hell she wouldn’t.

She pressed her lips together and shook her head. The fluorescent bathroom lights sparkled off her mask and the glittery makeup caking her cheeks.

“I’m taking that as a green light. Is it a green light?” The attorney in him knew better than to assume.

She nodded.

“Thank fucking God.”

He crashed his mouth over hers, kissing her hard and rough as he pushed his fingers into her tight heat. She moaned long and low, riding his hand as he devoured her mouth. She was so hot, so wet, he wanted to drop to his knees and consume her, but he was careful when he played this anonymous game, which wasn’t often. Luckily, kissing her was like nothing he’d ever felt before. Her tongue was strong yet pillowy soft, and the deeper he delved, the more she gave, well worth the denial of tasting the sweetness between her legs. With his fingers, he furtively sought the spot that would shatter her world. She clawed at his arms, bowing off the wall with a loud, pleasure-filled groan.

“There.
There
!” she pleaded.

He slowed his efforts, drawing out her pleasure, and sealed his mouth over her neck, sucking, nipping, and licking, as she went up on her toes, her thighs rigid. He stroked his thumb over her swollen clit and her head fell back.

“Ohgodohgod—”

Her voice echoed off the bathroom walls as her sex pulsed around his fingers. He released the leg he’d been holding at his waist and she reached for the button on his pants. He grabbed her wrist and pinned it against the wall beside her head, still fucking her with his fingers, and brought his mouth to the swell of her heaving breast.

“Don’t stop,” she begged.

“I have no plans to stop until you have no more to give. You’re going to come again for me like this, because I like hearing those noises you make.” His voice was thick with desire, a husky command. “Then I’m going to bury myself balls deep and fuck you so I can hear it some more.”

She trapped her lower lip between her teeth. The pained innocence of a sex kitten. His lips brushed over hers as he stroked the spot between her legs that made her body quiver against him. He took her in a slow, sensual kiss, and she surrendered to another intense climax.

“I bet your pussy tastes fucking sweet.”

Her mouth gaped, and he brushed his thumb over her swollen lips. “You’ve got this innocent sexy thing down pat.”

He kissed her again, ready for more. Lowering her hand from beside her head, he stopped cold at the sight of three freckles that formed a triangle between her thumb and index finger. His mind skidded to a halt. His chest constricted. He knew those freckles, had focused on them for the better part of three years.

In the space of a breath his lust-laden brain shifted the moment into some semblance of sense, which didn’t make any sense at all. He looked at the eyes behind the mask,
really
looked at them, trying to piece together the blond hair and sexy outfit with the prim-and-proper paralegal he’d worked so fucking hard to resist.

“Will you fuck me now?” she whispered.

That innocence.

That voice.

Amanda
.

He felt guilty, sick, and elated all at once. No wonder he was so drawn to her.
Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck
. What the hell was she doing at a place like this?

Did she know it was him?

He took a step back, his mind reeling. If she knew, she sure as hell wasn’t letting on. And if she didn’t, was he a complete asshole for not telling her right now? How could he? What if it embarrassed her? What if she had no clue and she turned it on him?
Sexual harassment? Fuck
. He’d fought his attraction to her every goddamn day. There were reasons he’d never crossed this line before.

He’d been three fingers deep inside her. He’d tasted her desire.

He was totally screwed and needed time to think.

“Hey,” he said softly, not having any idea what was going to come out of his mouth as he righted her skirt and retrieved her shredded thong. “Fuck,” he murmured under his breath, tossing the stringy material into the trash can. What had she been doing with that first guy? What kind of game was she playing?

“What’s wrong?” she asked with a shaky voice. “What are you doing?”

God, Amanda. My Amanda. No. Definitely not my Amanda
. He’d already crossed the line. He needed to tell her it was him behind the mask and costume. He gazed into her eyes. Heated innocence stared back at him, and his gut twisted.

He should tell her, but he couldn’t. He fucking couldn’t. He was too fucked to think straight.

“I’m, um…”
I’m never at a loss for words. What the hell?
He rubbed his chin, which reminded him that he hadn’t shaved in days. His beard came in thick and black. Amanda had never seen him unshaven, and his mask covered nearly his whole face. There was a chance she hadn’t recognized him. His mind spun again. If she didn’t recognize him, what the fuck was she doing? Amanda didn’t do things like this. She was as straitlaced as they came. Or at least she had been.

She
had
to know.

Was this her ruse to make a play for him? No. He hadn’t been at work all week. She couldn’t have known he’d be here tonight. But that thought was messed up, too, because Amanda didn’t make
plays
for guys.

Only she
had
.

He was too confused to think straight, but the possibility of Amanda playing him had him stepping closer again, a smile tugging at his lips. He touched her glittery cheek, soaking in the curve of her face. He’d wanted to do that for so long, he had to grit his teeth to keep a moan from escaping.

He couldn’t turn away. Not now. Not after he’d already crossed the line.

“Not like this,” he said, shocked by the unbidden truth. “I want to do this right. With you in my bed, where I can savor you and pleasure you properly.” What the hell was spewing from his mouth? He wanted her more than he wanted to breathe, but getting involved with Amanda went against the very morals and ethics he’d built his reputation on.

“Wh…?”

The hurt in her voice slayed him.

“I want you,” he assured her. “Just not here. Not like this. This was—”
A mistake? Incredible? Wrong? So fucking hot I want to take you home with me right now?
He didn’t know what it was, or what he should do next, but it turned out his mouth did. “Meet me tomorrow night. The Wine Garden, eight o’clock.”

When she didn’t respond, he kissed her again, tasting her sweetness anew.

Amanda
.

He backed away, fearing he’d ask her to come home with him, and needing time and space to clear his head and think this through. This was a bad idea. A
very
bad idea. One that he was powerless to stop.

“Eight o’clock,” he repeated.

She nodded. “The Wine Garden.”

Taking one last long look, Mick opened the door, and the din of the bar rushed in. He placed a possessive hand on the small of her back, and they made their way out the front door. The brisk night air brought a modicum of clarity, and as they stood on the busy sidewalk, among throngs of masquerade bar crawlers, he observed her more closely. She nibbled on her lower lip, her eyes darting left and right, avoiding him completely. He’d kissed off her lipstick, but the thick rouge and glitter on her cheeks remained. There was no way he could have known it was her. Not in the dark, with the wig. Even now, with the bright lights of New York City shimmering off her mask, he struggled to reconcile the sex kitten before him with the Amanda he knew.

He hailed a cab, gave the driver fifty bucks, and held the door open for Amanda, unwilling to even think about her going back into that bar.

“Wait,” she said urgently, one leg in the cab and one on the street. “What’s your name?”

Holy Christ
. She didn’t know. She really didn’t fucking know. Disappointment sliced through him, leaving a trail of confusion in its wake.

“I’m Lola,” she said.

He let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. This must be part of her game, and he was happy to play along.

“Call me whatever you’d like,
Lola
.”

“I TOTALLY GET it now, Ally.” Amanda leaned across the café table the next afternoon, unable to suppress the foolish grin she’d been sporting since last night. “The thrill of the unknown. The power of knowing you’re getting exactly what you want.” Chills raced down her spine with the memory of what she’d done with the guy at the bar last night. She could still feel his big, strong hands touching and groping, his harsh, delicious kisses.

Her sister scowled and pointed her fork at her. “What you did last night isn’t the same as what I used to do.”

“What are you talking about? I followed all the rules in
The Handbook
. I waxed every nook and cranny, had a facial, used the best perfume, flirted like a pro…
almost
. I’m still working on that. But it worked! Two orgasms later, I’ve got a date with a mysterious guy who
definitely
knows how to please a woman.”

She’d stayed up half the night reliving every second, from the first bar she’d gone into to the drive home in the cab, and she’d gone from feeling exhilarated to regretful and explored every emotion in between. But none of the negative feelings stuck. She was too freaking proud of herself for not chickening out of her newest challenge. Maybe it wasn’t the type of success she could tell their parents about, but she was proud of herself just the same. She’d pushed past her comfort zone and had a wild, crazy experience she’d never forget, and she wasn’t about to let her sister rain on her temptress parade.

“A year ago I would have snubbed my nose at the very thought of going to a masquerade bar crawl. Check me out now,” she said with a smug grin. “I’m
owning
it!”

“And yet here you sit in your flats and your sensible black skirt that hangs well below the knees, and you’re buttoned up tighter than a nun.” Ally shook her head and smiled. “You are
not
owning it. Besides, no book in the world can make you into something you’re not. You know that.”

“True, but it helps. It gave me the steps I needed, which, I’ll remind you, baby sister, you never would.”

“Still won’t.” Ally popped a forkful of salad in her mouth, clearly proud of herself. “It’s wrong, Mandy. I mean, dressing sexier is one thing, but you don’t have to pull out all the stops and have anonymous sex at night and then revert to Conservative Betty during the day.”

“I’m
buttoned up
because of work. My boss isn’t exactly the sex-it-up-in-the-office type. I swear, when I dress sexier, Mick barely speaks to me. Remember? I told you about that client meeting two weeks ago when he wouldn’t even look at me.” Amanda remembered it all too vividly. The muscles in his jaw had jumped during the entire two-hour meeting, and he’d made a point of
not
looking at her. He was clearly not impressed.

“Oh, please. You’re gorgeous no matter what you wear, but when you reveal your hourglass figure, you resemble that redhead in
Who Framed Roger Rabbit
, only your hair is dark. He was probably sporting wood and couldn’t think straight. But that doesn’t matter. What matters is the dangerous game you’re playing.”

The thought of Mick getting hard over her was as exciting as it was ridiculous. The man never even gave a second look to his rich, gorgeous, and talented clients who unabashedly tried to seduce him. He didn’t just draw a line between business and pleasure; he dug a gully. Not only that, but while Amanda considered herself a catch, he was clearly out of her league.

“You just compared me to a cartoon. Not exactly an ego boost.” Amanda smiled, but while she could negate much of what her sister had said, the last part gave her pause. “Why is it dangerous? You did it.”

“One, you wore a wig. Two, you used a fake name.” Ally set her fork down and held up a finger for each point she made. “Three, you’re seeing him again. Four, you got finger-fucked, not fucked. There is a difference.”

Amanda’s jaw dropped. “Wait, what? You said no names.
Ever
. How is that wrong? And it was masquerade night—what was I supposed to do? Go as myself?” More quietly, she added what she’d realized only a few hours ago. “And besides, in that wig, Al, I swear I’m a different person. Not completely. I mean I still had to give myself a few pep talks, but I felt pretty and sexy and…”
And the orgasms were out of this world.

“Disguises bring empowerment,” Ally agreed. “But you’re seeing this guy again. What are you going to do? Wear a blond wig on your date and call yourself Lola? What is that?” She laughed.

Amanda’s stomach sank. “Well, I
was
. Isn’t that the game? And I could have gotten…
effed
, but he didn’t want to do
that
in the bathroom. I think that’s chivalrous, not dangerous. Maybe I didn’t get”—she lowered her voice to a whisper, feeling like a Little Leaguer—“fucked.” Then, in her normal voice, she said, “But it was fun and exciting, and he promised to savor every second tonight.”

“With
Lola
,” Ally pointed out. “What if you’re having wild, passionate sex, the best sex of your life, and he pulls your wig off? What if it pisses him off? What if he gets violent for being played for a fool?”

Holy crap, she hadn’t thought of that. “You think that could actually happen?” She’d have to go back and reread the section on
Leaving a Bad Boy
in
The Handbook
. There were great tips for getting out of sticky situations.

“Probably not, but there’s always a chance. People are freaky.” Ally reached across the table and touched her hand. “This isn’t you, Mandy. You don’t play games.” She sat back, and her expression turned thoughtful. “I needed that control until I met Heath. Your personality is more giving, more lovingly submissive. You’re better at letting someone else be in control, and that’s not a bad thing. I think men prefer that, actually. When you first told me what you wanted to do, you said you were doing it to attract more exciting men. You’ve done that. You know you can do it. I think you should let it go and go back to being yourself.”

Ally had met her fiancé, Dr. Heath Wild, at a medical convention where she’d been volunteering. What started as a one-night stand had turned to all-consuming love. Amanda had never seen her sister more centered or happier. Was it wrong for her to want the same?

She’d always told Ally the truth, and what she’d said had been honest, but there was more to it, and now, seeing the worried expression on her sister’s face, she swallowed her pride and came clean.

“I can’t. Not yet. You’re so happy with Heath, and I’m truly thrilled for you, but I’m so jealous I can’t see straight.”

“Mandy,” Ally said with the type of deep understanding that could only come from a sister and best friend. “You’ll find the right guy, but not this way. Whoever this guy is you’re meeting tonight, he’s not going to be
the
one
.”

Considering I can never have the one I really want, that’s a reasonable assumption
. Mick had been out of the office all week. She loved her job regardless, but when he was in the office it was that much better. She respected him as an attorney and admired him for his strong moral compass. Weaker men would have taken the gorgeous women who propositioned him without giving it a second thought. But beyond his kindness and legal skills, he was fiercely loyal to his family, which amped up his sexy factor tenfold. He was always meeting one of his three brothers for lunch and thought nothing of excusing himself from meetings to take a call from his mother.

“I have no hopes of tonight’s date being
the one
,” she said honestly. “I just want a night of great sex. That’s it. No more.”

Ally squinted curiously. “And you’re meeting him at the Wine Garden?”

“So?”

“I don’t know. Just don’t go back to
his
place. Or
your
place. That’s dangerous no matter how he wines and dines you. This whole thing—seeing him again, the wig, the
game
—feels like it’s riddled with trouble. If you’re dead set on sleeping with him, go to a hotel, and make sure you make yourself memorable when you check in. Maybe Heath and I should show up, just in case.”

“Ally, I don’t need a babysitter.”

“Seriously. We don’t need to sit with you, but that way we can identify the guy.”

“Ohmygod. You’ve already got me killed?” She sighed. “If that were his plan, wouldn’t he have
effed
me and killed me last night in the bathroom? There’s no way he’d have gotten caught; there were too many unidentifiable people in masks and makeup. I’m telling you, his entire face was mask and beard. I can’t wait to see him without his mask. I wonder what he
really
looks like.”

“Yeah, I wasn’t going to say anything about the abrasions above your lip.”

Amanda covered her mouth, her lips tingling with the memory of their toe-curling kisses. “I tried to cover it.”

“Use Neosporin before you go to bed, and keep makeup off of it.” Ally crossed her arms and smiled. “And I can’t believe I’m giving you advice about whisker burn. If he’s any good, your thighs are going to burn, too.”

“From his whiskers?” A tingle of excitement darted through her.

“Among other things. Your stupid book should have told you to start working out three months before your little temptress transformation. And for what it’s worth, any man who really falls for you is going to fall for the real
you
—flats and all.”

She’d met those men, and that was exactly why she couldn’t be herself.

**

MICK HADN’T BEEN worth a damn all day, having spent half the night beating himself up about Amanda and the other half scouring his firm’s employee handbook and operating agreements. There was nothing about interoffice dating, which made things even more complicated. He had no easy, legal out. The decision was fully resting in his usually capable hands. But for the first time in his life, those hands felt subpar for the job. He
wanted
Amanda. He’d wanted her for too damn long to make it easy to walk away. And now that he’d had a taste of her, now that he’d seen the side of her he’d denied himself, he wanted
more
. If she’d been anyone else, he could walk away. He always had.
Give, take, leave
. Easy, clean, unencumbered. Nothing lasted forever. The death of his sister and the demise of his parents’ marriage had proven that, along with a million other shitty things that came along with relationships.

Despite what Amanda had done last night, he knew she wasn’t the type of girl who hooked up with random men. She was too smart and too good of a person for that. She was the type of girl a man married and cared for. Hell, she attended romance novel readings like others attended church.

Why do I know that?

He was worse off than he’d thought, and he could never offer Amanda what she deserved. He didn’t
do
relationships, and he sure as hell didn’t plan on doing marriage and children. Watching his family fall apart was hard enough. He had no interest in setting himself up for the gut-crushing pain his family had gone through.

He really needed to come clean and then walk away. Set last night aside as a mistake.
An incredibly wonderful mistake
. He’d mastered the art of gracefully turning down advances from his eager and beautiful clients, yet here he was, walking into the Wine Garden, about to cross another line with Amanda.

Mick strode through the quaint bar, ignoring heated glances from hungry women and seriously questioning his judgment for the first time in his adult life. His eyes drifted from one table to the next, seeking the only woman he wanted and fighting against the battle ensuing in his mind. Spotting a gorgeous blonde sitting at a table in the back of the bar, nervously fidgeting with her napkin, his heart raced with recognition. Weren’t they well past this ruse of disguises? He slowed, taking advantage while unnoticed to drink her in. Her plunging neckline revealed the swell of her breasts. Heat stroked down his spine with the memory of feeling her frantic heartbeat against his tongue when he’d tasted the silky swells.

She raised her head, and her brows knitted with confusion.

Holy hell
. She had no clue it had been him last night. The realization hit him in the solar plexus like a bullet train. She’d been ready to fuck a stranger in the bathroom of the bar. His hands fisted by his sides. His gut knotted and burned. He was surprisingly turned on and pissed off in equal measure, which made no sense, because he had no right to be pissed off. He’d screwed plenty of strangers, and Amanda wasn’t his to claim. But she was
not
the type of woman a guy fucked and forgot. Hell, she wasn’t the type of woman a guy
spoke to
and forgot.

He closed the distance between them slowly, allowing her time to make the connection.

“Mick? Wh-what are you doing here?” Her eyes darted toward the front of the bar.

“I have a date,” he said more casually than he felt. “What’s with the wig?”

She touched the wig as if she’d forgotten she had it on. “I…um.” She paused as he lowered himself into the chair beside her. “It’s a joke,” she said in a shaky voice. “You can’t stay. I’m meeting someone.”

“Are you?” He sat back, taking in her high cheekbones and her slim upturned nose. He’d always found her beautiful and preferred her natural beauty to tonight’s vixenish makeup. But that didn’t mean he didn’t appreciate the seductively dark shade of red on her full lips—lips he was currently picturing wrapped around his cock.

“Tell me about him,” he urged. If she wanted to play, there was no game he couldn’t master.

Her big, round eyes darted around the bar, their innocence belying her sultry makeup. “He’s…” Her gaze finally landed on him, and he felt his lips curve up in a
go ahead, tell me
smile. She scanned the front of the bar again, then her eyes returned to him, serious and confused.

She pushed to her feet, wobbling on a pair of black spiked heels as she reached for her purse. “He’s late. Probably stood me up. Oh well. I guess I’ll see you next week.”

Mick rose to his feet in front of her. Her floral scent permeated his senses, but his mind replaced it with the arousing scent of her desire from last night. His cock twitched with the memory, and he searched her face for a sign of the same recognition. Beyond her confusion, there was definitely something provocative and eager trying to remain hidden, but it wasn’t the clarity he was looking for, and he hated knowing it wasn’t meant for him—at least not knowingly so.