Enemies with Benefits
Auteur·e
Zara Cox
Lectures
17,9K
Chapitres
11
CHAPTER ONE
‘I CAN TRUST you to behave yourself, can’t I?’
Shit.
I dragged my gaze from the statuesque brunette weaving her way through the one-hundred-plus guests sipping vintage champagne on a chilly autumn evening. The five heating towers positioned around the terrace and immediate lamplit grounds of the Surrey mansion were doing their damnedest to warm up the abysmal temperature and failing, but I, for one, didn’t need their help.
My body had heated up the moment I spotted Wren Bingham, wearing a clingy jumpsuit that lovingly followed every curve of her spectacular body. Fringed, shoulder-length jet-black hair brushed the frilly-looking scarf wrapped around her shoulders. Stilettos on her feet and a diamond bracelet circling her wrist completed her outfit. Her guests wore double and triple layers but she was obviously nowhere near cold, either.
I didn’t mind one bit because she looked fuckable in the extreme—
‘Jasper?’
I reeled myself in at Aunt Flo’s sharper tone. An apologetic glance her way showed pursed lips and a disapproving glint in her eye. I was usually more circumspect but being in the same vicinity as Wren Bingham always scuppered my concentration.
I cleared my throat. ‘Of course I’ll behave. Scouts’ honour.’ The woman who’d been more of a mother to me than my own living parent snorted her disbelief.
‘As if they’d have let you anywhere near a Scouts camp. You’d have scandalised them all within an hour.’
I grinned at her no-nonsense reply because her tone was couched in familiar, reassuring warmth. Warmth I let wash over me to disperse the soul-shrivelling chill that came from thinking about my birth mother, which inevitably led to thoughts about my father. Specifically, their arctic wind of rejection, far more brutal than any winter I’d experienced since their desertion. No, tonight most definitely wasn’t the time to dwell on that noxious period of my childhood and how it’d ruined not just me but my siblings, too.
Tonight was about bringing recalcitrant business partners to heel. Mostly...
After another search failed to reveal my elusive prey, I focused once more on Wren, that compulsion since Aunt Flo and I had walked through the impressive double doors of the Bingham mansion in Esher forty-five minutes ago pulling at me.
So far I hadn’t spotted Wren’s brother, Perry Bingham, my primary reason for being here. Sure, I’d nodded and reassured my favourite aunt that accompanying her to this soirée was my pleasure and the right Mortimer thing to do. Also because, on some weird rota only Aunt Flo was privy to, it was apparently my turn to escort her to another social function. What I’d failed to mention was that I was on the hunt for Perry Bingham, CEO of Bingham Industries, who had stopped answering my calls for nearly two weeks, thereby threatening to throw one serious spanner into my latest project.
With my patience wearing thin, I’d grasped the opportunity to track him down at his family estate. Except it looked as if he was a no-show here, too.
But Wren was here, and I intended to drill his sister about his whereabouts. My choice of words brought an inner smirk I wisely kept off my face as I downed my whisky and turned to my aunt.
‘Can I get you another drink?’ I indicated her half-empty glass of sherry.
Several waitstaff circulated with trays of drinks but I didn’t plan to grab one from them. Not when Wren stood next to the bar, chatting with two of her guests. As I watched, she threw her head back in laughter, her smooth, swanlike neck thrown into perfect relief.
Immediately, I imagined my lips there, beneath her jawline, tasting her silky skin, then lower, tonguing her pulse. Would she cry out in delight or moan with pleasure?
‘We both know that’s an excuse to get away from me. Go on, then. Just don’t do anything we’d both be ashamed of come morning, would you? I could do without a Mortimer tabloid scandal before Christmas,’ Aunt Flo said.
Brushing a kiss on a well-preserved cheek, I muttered, ‘You’ve taught me the importance of not making promises I can’t keep. Don’t make me start now.’
She rolled her eyes but her smile deepened.
I grinned again as I made a beeline for the bar, and I wasn’t one little bit ashamed to admit that I was hard as stone.
I made sure to wipe the smile off my face, my eyes settling in the middle distance to prevent business acquaintances engaging me in conversation. A few feet from Wren, I paused to ponder why this woman, amongst so many others, had fired me up ever since she’d crossed my path five years ago.
Perhaps it was discovering that, far from being a superficial heiress and supermodel flitting around the globe between the ages of nineteen and twenty-three, she’d attained a master’s degree in business while slaying the runways of the fashion capitals of the world. More besides, she’d graduated top of her class and was, at twenty-eight, now on course to become one of the youngest power executives in the city. Or perhaps it was some twisted attraction born from our family being embroiled in a generations-old feud, which dictated we should hate each other on sight like some pathetic Roman tragedy.
Whatever. All I knew was that Wren had intrigued me with increasing intensity over the past few years.
Intense empire-building in order to establish my role in my family’s company as President of New Developments in Europe, Africa and the Middle East, and perhaps even the arrogant belief that our chemistry was a passing whim and wasn’t worth turning my family upside down for, had so far kept me from pursuing Wren, but each encounter only deepened whatever this phenomenal chemistry was that stopped me from seeing any other woman but her whenever we were in each other’s orbit.
Lately, I’d accepted that it simply wasn’t going to go away by itself, as I’d assumed. Not until I did something about it.
I realised my motionless state was drawing curious attention from nearby guests, not to mention Aunt Flo’s disapproving glare from across the terrace.
Discarding my glass, I stepped beside Wren. ‘Good evening, Wren. You look incredible.’ I said, my voice pitched low.
She tried not to stiffen, but didn’t quite succeed, nor could she disguise the flare of awareness in her vivid green eyes when she turned to me. She didn’t reply immediately, instead she scrambled for the jaded expression that had been her trademark in her modelling days.
I stifled the urge to tell her not to bother. Witnessing a demonstration of her fiery passion and stiletto-sharp business acumen five years ago across a boardroom table for an unforgettable fifteen minutes had etched a different Wren Bingham in my mind from the façade she wore for the public.
‘Jasper Mortimer.’
The way she said my name, striving to be curt when different textures sizzled beneath, ramped up my temperature. I wanted her attempting to say my name just like that while she was tied to my bed with silken restraints, naked and wet.
‘I don’t recall seeing your name on the guest list.’
Pausing just as long as she did before answering, I snagged a glass of champagne from the bar. ‘Because it wasn’t there. I’m privileged to be my aunt’s plus one. What I haven’t had the privilege of is being acknowledged by the hostess since my arrival. I’m feeling sorely neglected.’
She tried to look through me, as if that would stop the arc of electricity zapping between us. As if she hadn’t performed a quick once-over of my body as I got my drink. I planted myself in her line of vision until she had no choice but to focus on me, her nostrils flaring slightly as her green eyes—alluringly wide and sparkling with an interest she was trying to hide—connected with mine.
I barely heard her guests murmur their excuses and drift away, leaving us in a tight little cocoon.
‘Perhaps I would’ve already greeted you, if you hadn’t arrived half an hour late.’
I curbed a smile, inordinately pleased she’d noticed my arrival. ‘I’m willing to make amends by doubling my donation to tonight’s cause.’
One elegantly shaped eyebrow arched. ‘Name it.’
I frowned. ‘Name what?’
‘The beneficiary of tonight’s cause. What’s this mixer in aid of?’ she challenged.
Crap. I’d tuned Aunt Flo out when she’d mentioned it in the car, my frustrated attention on the echo of the ringing phone Perry was—yet again—refusing to answer. ‘Something to do with pandas in Indonesia?’ I hazarded.
Sparks gathered in her eyes. ‘Why am I not surprised you don’t know?’
Heat surged through me. ‘That suggests a curious level of personal knowledge. Have you been attempting to get to know me behind my back, Wren?’
She gave the smallest gasp, then tried that bored look again. ‘I’ve no idea what you’re talking about. I can’t help it if others feel the need to gossip about you Mortimers.’
‘Oh, yeah? What else do they say about me? What else has that brilliant brain of yours retained?’
Her nose wrinkled in distaste. ‘Nothing worth repeating.’
Unable to resist, I stepped closer. ‘Are you sure? I’m happy to hear you out, set a few things straight if you get anything wrong.’
She didn’t reply. After an age of trying to decipher which I liked more on her skin—the scent of bergamot or the underlying allure of crushed lilies—I looked up to catch her gaze on my mouth.
Hell yes, that insane chemistry was still very much alive and well—and sizzling, as usual.
‘Stop that,’ she said in a tight undertone.
I raised my glass, took a lazy sip before answering. ‘Stop what?’
‘That extremely unsubtle way you’re looking at me,’ she hissed in a ferocious whisper, then glanced around. Thankfully, the music was loud enough for her words to reach my ears only. ‘The way you look at me every time we meet.’
I laughed under my breath. ‘And how do I look at you, Wren?’
‘You might lure some women with those come-fuck-me eyes but I’m not one of them so stop wasting your time.’
My laughter was a little louder, genuine amusement reminding me how long it’d been since I’d enjoyed the thrill of a chase outside the boardroom. ‘Come-fuck-me eyes? Really?’ I didn’t bother to keep my voice down.
Several people stared but I watched Wren, keenly interested in her next move.
She flashed the patently false smile she’d been doling out all evening but I caught the strain beneath the thousand-watt beam. Taking in the rest of her, I sensed tension in her lithe frame, in the fingers that clutched her glass a little too firmly. For reasons I suspected went beyond our conversation, Wren was wound extremely tight tonight.
And I was curiously concerned about it. ‘Is everything okay?’
‘Of course. Why shouldn’t it be?’
I shrugged. ‘You seem a little...stressed.’
Her chin notched upward. ‘You don’t know me well enough to make that assessment.’
‘Ah, but I’ve attended enough of these shindigs to see when the hostess is fretting about the vegan-to-carnivore ratio of her canapés, and when it’s something more. This is something more.’
Her delicate throat moved in a nervous swallow, but her gaze remained bold and direct, swirling with a deep, passionate undercurrent I craved to drown in. ‘Even if it’s the latter, it’s none of your business. Now, if you’ll excuse me—’
‘Where’s Perry?’
She froze mid-brush-off, her eyes widening fractionally. ‘What?’
No, she wasn’t as carefree as she pretended.
The rumours that Bingham’s was in trouble had been circulating for a few years now. The veracity of those rumours was partly why I’d initially been reticent about joining forces with them. But, hell, call me a sucker... I’d always had a thing for the underdog.
Maybe it was a hangover from my daddy issues. Or a tool I used to my advantage when idiots underestimated me. Either way, my instincts hadn’t failed me thus far.
There were certain family and board members who considered me, at thirty-one, too young for the position I was in, notwithstanding the fact that my older brother, Damian, and my cousin Gideon had been wildly successful in their newly minted co-CEO positions of the entire Mortimer Group despite being only a few years older. Or that my cousin Bryce was acing his similar position as President of New Developments in Asia and Australia. Even my sister, Gemma, and my cousin Graciela, who’d both resisted joining the board until recently, were excelling in their chosen areas of expertise.
I was damned if I’d let Perry Bingham’s antics prove them right. Especially after going against all my business instincts and signing him onto my deal.
‘There’s nothing wrong with your hearing, Wren. Where’s your brother?’ I steeled my voice because, however much I enjoyed this erotic dance with her, Perry was at risk of tanking everything I’d worked for during the last eighteen months.
Several expressions filtered through her eyes—alarm, worry, irritation, mild disappointment. She finally settled on indignation. ‘Is that why you came?’
‘I told you, I accompanied Aunt Flo—’
‘A ruse to hunt down my brother,’ she interjected.
‘That implies awareness that he’s hiding. Is he?’
A look flickered across her face, gone too quickly but revealing enough to intensify the unease knotting my belly. ‘Tell me where he is, Wren,’ I pressed. ‘He’s been avoiding my calls for almost two weeks and it’s getting really old.’
‘I’m afraid you’ll have to do your own hunting. I’m not Perry’s keeper.’ Her tense reply gave her away. As did the minuscule tremble in the fingers that held her glass. Both intrigued and disturbed me but before I could push for more, she added, ‘You’ve monopolised me quite enough. Enjoy the rest of your evening, Jasper.’
Just for the hell of it, and because something wild and reckless yearned for another demonstration that she wasn’t immune to me, I brushed my fingertips down her arm. ‘This isn’t over.’
She attempted to cover her tiny shiver of awareness with a wide sultry smile that diverted my attention to her luscious lips. ‘How can something be over when it didn’t start in the first place?’
With that, she sailed away, her hips swaying in that unique way that’d held male and female gazes rapt during her modelling days. Since then, Wren had gained even more confidence in her womanhood, and left a swathe of admirers slack-jawed in her wake. I wracked my brain, trying to recall if she had a current boyfriend. The gut-tightening rejection at the idea of her being attached made me grimace into my champagne.
Until my gaze fell on the woman who placed herself directly in Wren’s path before manoeuvring her away from the nearest guest.
Agnes Bingham—Wren’s mother and powerhouse socialite in her own right.
The tall, slim woman was what Wren would look like in thirty years. Except where Agnes’s beauty was classically cool, Wren was vibrant, passionate, even though she seemed hell-bent on suppressing it.
Why?
None of your business.
But I wanted to make it my business. I wanted Wren in my bed and damn all the consequences to hell. And more and more I suspected I wouldn’t get over this fever in my blood until I’d had her.
Tension of a different kind raced up my spine when mother and daughter glanced my way. The touch of rebellion in Wren’s gaze made me raise my glass in a mocking toast, even while I observed the animosity emanating from Agnes Bingham.
Bloody hell.
Family feuds, Perry Bingham going AWOL and now Agnes Bingham. Three stumbling blocks in my intent to have Wren. But despite the damning words my father had taken pleasure in decimating me with as a child, I wasn’t afraid of a challenge.
All the same, my gut twisted as I made my way back to my aunt, the thought of broaching the subject of my father making my stomach curdle.
‘Everything okay?’ Aunt Flo asked, after smiling an excuse to the guest she’d been chatting to.
I let her fondness wash over me for a moment before I pulled myself together. Wishing her warm concern came from a different female voice had been fruitless when I was a child. It was even more foolish now. The woman who’d given birth to me wasn’t interested in taking up her maternal role. Not for her first or second born, and certainly not for me, her third child. My arrival had spelled the end to her obligation and she couldn’t get away fast enough. Years of hoping, of saving my allowance in a childish hope of enticing her financially had been laughed off. I was no longer ten years old, fighting to stop myself from crying as Damian advised me to give up my foolish hoping.
‘George Bingham. I need to know the full story,’ I said to Aunt Flo, my low voice brisker than she deserved.
‘What’s brought this on? You’ve never wanted to know before,’ she said after eyeing me in frowning silence.
I shrugged, moving her away to the more private edge of the terrace. ‘I’ve never cared enough about the finer details. Now I do because whatever happened all those years ago is endangering an important deal and I’ve just about had it.’
‘Dear boy, money isn’t—’
My bitter laugh stopped her. ‘Do me a favour, please, and don’t finish that sentence, Aunt Flo. We both know money is definitely everything to any red-blooded Mortimer.’
She harrumphed. ‘Well, I don’t agree but, since you seem to have a bee in your bonnet about it, I’ll let it go. To answer your question, it was your father’s last deal before he and your mother stepped away from the company, and the family. He and George Bingham were supposed to go fifty-fifty but George messed up somehow and could only come up with a fraction of the investment by the deadline date. There was a clause in their agreement that it was fifty-fifty or nothing and that loophole gave your father the right to cut him out regardless of how much money he’d pumped into the deal up to then. He didn’t take it well. He wasted money he didn’t have trying to sue your father. But Hugh was a brilliant, if somewhat ruthless, businessman.’
There was no somewhat about it. I’d come across some of his deals while my father had actively worked in the family firm. His cut-throat antics were legendary. If you liked blood and gore with your negotiations.
A memory shot through my head. ‘Was closing that Bingham deal part of my father’s walking-away package?’ I asked.
Aunt Flo sighed. ‘Yes, it was. Back then, every deal closed by a member of the board came with a ten-per-cent profit bonus. Cutting out Bingham and making it an exclusive Mortimer deal meant Hugh received a bigger bonus. About two hundred million.’
And he was probably in such a hurry to walk away from his family that he’d been unflinchingly ruthless. ‘I see.’
‘What’s going on, Jasper?’ Aunt Flo asked curiously.
The cocktail of bitterness, anger and arousal swirled faster inside me as I looked over her shoulder to find Wren watching me. ‘It’s just business.’
‘No, it’s not. You’re not cut-throat like your father. But you’re just as dogged. I had my reservations when I heard about your deal with Perry, considering his problems,’ she murmured. ‘But knowing you, you’ll move mountains to make it work.’
‘Forgive me if I don’t welcome the comparison to Hugh,’ I rasped.
Her eyes clouded with momentary sadness. ‘His blood may run through your veins but you’re your own man where it counts, Jasper. Whatever you’re getting involved in, just...protect your heart. I don’t want to see you hurt again.’
Another harsh laugh bubbled up, but I swallowed it down. And just about managed to stop myself from telling her that, while I’d struck a deal with Perry Bingham in a moment of madness, perhaps even a sting of conscience and despite Perry’s rumoured drinking problem, somewhere in the mix was the reasoning that it would put me in a good position to strike a better deal with Wren in the near future. Business-wise and in other ways, too.
‘You have that gleam in your eye, Jasper. Am I wasting my breath by telling you to be a dear and spare my nerves?’ Aunt Flo asked.
I couldn’t promise that. Hell, I knew there would be plenty more fireworks between Wren and me in the future. ‘I can promise dinner at The Dorchester as soon as my schedule lets up a little. I know how much you like their new chef. We can check out the competition in the process.’
She smiled. ‘Cecil is a culinary genius. And very easy on the eyes. I’ll hold you to that promise,’ she said, just before another acquaintance snagged her attention.
Briefly alone, I tried to suppress the tangled emotions churning through me.
I don’t want to see you hurt again.
As much as I wanted to put my parents out of my mind for ever, to rub them from my existence as much as they’d rubbed me from theirs, the ten-year-old boy’s anguish from relentless rejection, which I’d never been quite successful in smothering, wouldn’t let me. But it was a good reminder not to count on anyone but myself. Not to let frivolous emotion get in the way of business.
I wanted this deal with Bingham because it was sound and profitable.
I also wanted to fuck Wren Bingham, once she got over the pesky family-feud thing. The two were mutually exclusive enough not to cause me to lose any sleep.
Which was why when Wren hurried away from her mother, her shoulders tight with barely-harnessed emotions, I followed.
She was heading towards the far end of the grounds, her heels sinking soundlessly into the grass. She didn’t hear me until I was six feet from her.
‘Wren?’
Her head whipped around. ‘Are you following me?’ she asked sharply. But then she trembled. A tiny reaction, but, coupled with the slight wobble of her mouth, it hastened my steps, the peculiar punch in my chest unsettling me.
‘What’s wrong?’
‘Other than the fact that you’re stalking me now?’
‘Hardly. You just seem—’
‘There’s nothing wrong. Just leave me alone, please?’
I looked beyond her to the high hedges of what looked like an elaborate garden. ‘If everything’s fine, why are you running away from your own party?’
‘I’m not running away. And it’s not my party—’ She caught herself and snatched in a deep breath. ‘Why the hell am I explaining myself to you?’
‘Because sometimes it helps to vent.’ Not that it’d done me much good. Ever. All my good intentions had ended in disaster, the repercussions of which I still lived with. But this wasn’t the time or place to examine old scars. ‘Or so I’ve heard, anyway.’
‘Do you go around dishing out inexperienced advice?’
I shook my head, unwilling to drag my far from delightful childhood into this moment. ‘We’re not talking about me.’
‘You’re right, we’re not. In fact, I’m going to pretend you’re not here at all. Feel free to make that a reality,’ she suggested, right before she turned on her heel and marched away from me.
And since I was far too intrigued to heed her brush-off... I followed.
If she gave even a hint of needing comfort, I’d offer her a shoulder, and other parts of my body, to cry on.
Bloody hell. I cringed at my own crassness. Then shrugged it off. I am who I am. And that person wanted Wren Bingham any way he could get her. Besides that, though, I was here on Mortimer business. Technically.
She ignored me until she reached a bricked pathway. Then she turned and stared at me for several seconds without speaking. For a moment, a deep yearning flitted over her face, then her expression blanked. ‘You’re really not going to leave me alone, are you?’ she murmured.
‘Not until you tell me what’s wrong.’ Before she could reply, I jerked my chin at the hedge. ‘What’s behind there?’
Her eyes narrowed, her fingers twitching against her thighs. ‘Nothing interesting. Just the garden. A pool. Gazebo. The usual.’
She was lying. Or at least holding something back. ‘What else?’
‘Why do you want to know?’ she demanded, then flinched as someone laughed loudly nearby.
‘You look like you need a breather. What’s out there?’
‘A maze,’ she confessed with reluctance. ‘I go there sometimes...to think.’
Before my brain could growl its warning that this was a bad idea, I stepped closer. ‘Show me.’
She tensed. ‘Excuse me?’
‘I’d like to see this maze. A quick tour. Then, if you still insist, I’ll leave.’
Something flickered in her eyes, undercurrents of lust zinging between us. Her gaze dropped to my lips and I almost wanted to crow in triumph. ‘Fine. Let’s go.’
She wrapped her scarf tighter around her neck and I stopped myself from mourning the loss of the sight of her satiny skin.
Even in the cold, my libido was racing feverishly. I cleared my throat. ‘So, what was that with your mother?’
Stubborn fire lit her eyes. ‘I’ll allow you to stay on condition we don’t talk about my mother. Or any member of my family.’
I didn’t protest her condition. Families like mine were complicated and she didn’t need to vocalise her feelings towards hers for me to get it. Why that little commonality turned me on, I refused to contemplate.
In silence we walked along a dark red-bricked pavement until we reached a tall iron gate set into a walled-off section of the garden. Pushing it open, we followed the path until we reached a tall hedge the size of a barn door that remained full and thick despite the low temperatures. Wren’s hand disappeared between the leaves and a section of the hedge sprang open.
With another glance at me, she stepped inside. I followed and stepped onto two diverging paths. She took the left one, her footsteps barely making a sound on the grass as we walked between tall hedgerows. Further chunks had been cut out intermittently and lower hedges transformed into shapes of animals, with a large space transformed into a picnic area with benches and seats.
We went deeper into the maze, her head bent forward as if weighed down by her emotions. I wanted to reach out and cup my hand over her nape, test the suppleness of her skin, feel that electricity between us. Instead, I shoved my hands into my pockets, willed the urge to pass. Jumping her right now would be the wrong move.
Eventually her steps slowed. ‘We’re almost at the centre,’ she said, her voice low, as if she didn’t want to speak.
‘How big is this place?’
She shrugged. ‘Big enough when you’re a child seeking adventure. Not big enough when you’re a teenager, attempting to flee from your demons.’
I wanted to ask about her demons but her pursed lips suggested she already regretted her revealing statement. I tried a different tack, hoping to take her mind off whatever was bothering her. ‘Tell me one good memory you have of your maze.’
She didn’t speak for several seconds, and I watched as she trailed her fingers over the tall green foliage. ‘That’s easy. I had my first kiss in here.’
Envy knotted my stomach. ‘It was that good?’
She shook her head. ‘It was that bad. It’s what happened afterwards that makes it a good memory.’
‘Tell me more,’ I said, intrigued by the barely there but infinitely more genuine smile tugging up the corners of her full lips.
‘I told Winslow Parker I didn’t want to be kissed.’ She shrugged. ‘Call me shallow but I didn’t want my first kiss to be from a boy named Winslow with a wet nose and clammy hands. He went ahead and stole a kiss anyway. So I blocked the exit to the maze and left him to freeze his arse off for three hours. When I came back to rescue him, he was crying.’
My lips twitched, a wicked part of me enjoying hearing that her first kiss had been less than memorable. ‘So you enjoy making boys cry?’
We reached a dead end and she turned to face me. ‘If they deserve it? Absolutely.’
A compulsion I didn’t want to fight pulled me closer until I towered over her. Until she had to raise her head to meet my gaze. Despite the darkness around us, every inch of her stunning face and graceful neck was exposed to my keen gaze. ‘What else do you enjoy making boys do?’
‘I’m not nine years old any more. I’m a grown woman and I prefer grown men to boys now,’ she murmured, her gaze fixed boldly on mine. A shiver caught her a second later and I drew closer, locking my fingers in the trellised hedge, caging her in.
‘And what do you want this grown man to do for you?’ I asked, aware my voice was gruff with the lustful urges running rampant through my bloodstream.
She stared at me for a minute, then cast her gaze around her, looking a little lost for a minute. ‘Is it bad to say I don’t want to be here? That if I could leave right now, get on a plane and go far away, I would?’
‘Because of your mother?’
Her eyes darkened and she didn’t repudiate me for ignoring her condition. ‘Amongst other things.’
I got it. A long time ago, I’d accepted that it was better my parents lived in another country. Out of sight...out of mind...out of heartache... ‘There’s absolutely nothing wrong with wishing to be elsewhere.’
‘But I can’t, can I?’
I didn’t answer because there was no right answer to that. I was born into a family where bullshit and dysfunction were the norm but where conversely fierce loyalty and absolute dedication to duty were the cornerstones that held most of us together. I suspected the Binghams were the same.
‘Tell me what you want, Wren,’ I said instead.
I watched a hot, determined look slowly fill her eyes. She shivered again and my gaze dropped to where her nipples had turned into twin points of succulent torture. Whether her body’s reaction was from the cold or the arousal gathering heat in her eyes, I wasn’t completely sure. Still, I shrugged off my jacket, draped it over her shoulders, wrapped my hands around her trim waist.
And waited.
Slowly, she slicked her tongue over her bottom lip. I bit back a groan as blood gleefully rushed south.
‘Distract me,’ she said, a mixture of challenge and pleading in the low, thick words that hardened my rousing cock. ‘I don’t want to go back to the party. I don’t want to make stupid small talk. So just...make me stop thinking about all the crap I have to deal with now that...’ She stopped and took a shaky breath.
Despite the flames licking through my veins, I hesitated. ‘Are you sure?’
Her gaze grew defiant. ‘Are you a boy or a man, Jasper Mortimer?’
I gave a low laugh. ‘You don’t want to ask me that, even as a challenge.’
‘Why not? Will you punish me?’ Her voice was breathless, edged with sexual anticipation.
My cock leapt to full attention. Jesus. ‘Is that what you really want, Wren? For me to turn you around against this hedge and spank your tight little rump red for daring to question my manhood?’
Her eyes darkened, her mouth parting on a hot little pant. When her hips jerked forward a fraction, I yanked her the rest of the way, until our groins connected. Until she felt the hard, eager rod of my cock against her soft belly.
Hunger exploded over her face, her hands rising to grip my neck. ‘Do your worst,’ she invited with bite.
I fused my mouth to hers in a rough, carnal kiss powered by every single filthy fantasy I’d had about this woman. And there were hundreds. Thousands.
She opened for me immediately, her tongue gliding against mine in an erotic caress that weakened my knees. I tasted it, sucked on it, bit the tip and felt her shudder. Deepening the kiss, I trailed my hands up her flat belly and midriff to cup her soft, heavy breasts. Another moan escaped her, crushed between our lips as the kiss grew even more frantic.
She tasted intoxicating. Like the shot of adrenaline that brought every sense into vivid focus. I brushed my thumbs over the hard peaks of her nipples, then, giving into the wild clamouring, I nudged her zip halfway down her belly and pushed aside her bra. Before her gasp was fully formed, I swooped down and drew the exposed tip into my mouth. I suckled long and deep, then flicked my tongue rapidly over her burning flesh.
Her fingers bit into my nape. ‘God...yes!’
Frantically, I freed the other breast, caught the tip between my fingers and teased. Her fingers gripped my nape, her breathing erratic as she held me to her breasts. After delivering equal amounts of attention to each, I pulled back, again wracked with the need to see her face.
She looked even more spectacular than before. Defiant. Aroused. Wanton.
‘You’re so fucking gorgeous,’ I groaned.
An impatient sound escaped her, intensifying the heat in my veins. Dragging my hands from her breasts, I cupped her bottom, using the firm globes to pull her harder into my erection. She rewarded me by grinding her pelvis against my length, drawing needy sounds from both of us.
‘I really, really want to fuck you, Wren,’ I confessed, my voice a hot mess. ‘I’ve wanted you since you stepped into my boardroom five years ago.’
She gave a cheeky little laugh, her eyes lighting up for the first time tonight. ‘You mean when I turned down your internship offer?’
My fingers tightened on her bottom. ‘I’ll freely admit, I’m still a little salty about that.’
Her smile widened. ‘Poor Jasper. Not used to hearing no?’
I smiled in return. ‘I’m only sore at losing when what I want goes to a less worthy competitor. We both know why you turned me down.’
She licked her lips, her eyes lingering hungrily on mine. ‘Pray, enlighten me.’
I wasn’t going to ruin the moment by mentioning our family feud. ‘Because neither of us likes to mix business with pleasure,’ I said instead, running my thumb over her lower lip. Immediately her teeth nipped at my flesh, drawing a deep groan.
‘I’m not going to confirm or deny that assertion.’
‘Have it your way. I still want you. Badly.’
Eyes wild with defiance, she nodded eagerly, sucking my thumb into her mouth for a few seconds before she released me. ‘Yes. Now.’
I planted a long kiss on her mouth as I lowered her zip. Only to groan when shocking reality hit me. For ten long seconds I remained paralysed. ‘Shit.’
‘What?’ Her voice was beautifully slurred, her gaze hazy with arousal as she stared up at me. I wanted more of that look. Wanted to watch her shatter completely. Wanted to feel her pussy grip my cock as waves of ecstasy rolled over her.
‘I don’t have a condom,’ I confessed through gritted teeth.
She stared at me blankly for a few seconds before disappointment drenched her beautiful face. ‘Oh.’
I clenched my jaw tighter, unwilling to let go of this unique moment. ‘Are you on the Pill?’ I asked with more than a little hope. It wasn’t my usual practice. I liked to be in complete control of my sexual fate. But just this once I prayed for a yes.
‘No,’ she replied, pained resignation in her voice.
‘There are other ways, Wren.’ I pulled her closer, trailed my lips over her jaw until I reached her ear. ‘Let me make you come with my mouth. I want to taste you on my tongue. Lick you dry. You want to be transported? I can’t do it with my cock but I can give you a little relief. Don’t you want that?’
For a moment, she wavered, on the verge of calling quits on this madness. Selfishly, I didn’t want to let her.
‘I will eat you out for as long as you want me to. Think about how much I’ll suffer while you do. You get to ride my face while you torture the hell out of me,’ I invited.
Her fingers clenched harder into my skin. ‘Yes,’ she responded breathlessly. ‘Please. Yes.’
Satisfied that I had her back in the moment with me, I caught the soft fabric of her jumpsuit between my fingers, careful not to wrinkle the material. Normally I wouldn’t care but she had to return to a party filled with gossip-hungry guests and a mother she was clearly locked in tense disagreement with. I didn’t want to draw any more attention to what we’d been doing than necessary.
I trailed my lips back to hers and kissed her hard before releasing her. ‘Take this thing off for me,’ I instructed.
Soft hands drifted down my forearms and wrists and covered mine for a second before she complied. I stepped back, eager for a snapshot of her leaning against her favourite hedge, undressing for me.
When she stepped out of the jumpsuit, I re-draped my jacket over her shoulders to keep her warm.
Call me primitive but the sight of her in my clothing threatened to undo me. With her hair loose and straight and falling around her face, her upper body almost lost in my coat and her lower half almost exposed to the elements, she was breathtaking. Her legs alone were worth an extra minute of worship. But it was cold, and we couldn’t stay out here for ever.
With more than a throb of regret, I stepped forward and trailed the backs of my hands up her inner thighs. She gave a soft gasp and quivered. My gaze raced up from her thighs to her face, unwilling to lose a second of her reaction. Her lips were parted, her eyes hooded but not shut. She watched my hand draw closer to where her pussy was hidden behind a layer of sexy black lace.
‘Open your legs wider.’
Her gaze rose and caught on mine for a second before she obeyed, widening her stance until I could fit my closed fist at the juncture of her thighs. Slowly I dragged my knuckle lightly against her flesh; from where she was hot and sodden to the swollen nub pushing against the fabric.
She gasped again, thicker, louder, her breath a puff of vapour in the air between us. I repeated the action. She caught her lips between her teeth and moaned.
‘You like that?’
She gave a jerky nod, her gaze once again dropping to follow my hand. On the next turn her hips rolled, her body chasing the exquisite sensation. I felt her grow hotter, wetter with need.
‘More,’ she moaned on the next pass.
‘Look at me, Wren.’
Her gaze rose. Defiant fire and deep arousal. God, what a combination. I cupped her chin to hold her gaze, then I slipped my fingers beneath her panty line.
A wet, decadent sound wrapped itself around her gasp as I inserted two fingers inside her. She was hot. And wet. And so damned tight. For the first time in my life I wondered how it would feel to fuck a woman bareback. To replace my fingers with my cock and experience that snug channel sucking me in.
Her hips moved and she gave a greedy little moan. Slowly, I withdrew and pushed back inside her. Her mouth dropped open and her eyes glazed.
‘You’re gorgeous when you’re lost in pleasure. Do you want more, Wren?’
Without replying, she shifted her stance wider, wrapped her hand around my wrist and directed my movements, pressing my fingers inside her.
‘I’ll take that as a yes?’
Despite the rampant arousal coursing through her, her eyes flashed at me, reminding me that beyond this temporary haven of her maze our families detested each other. That she was using me simply because I was here. That any man who happened to be in her vicinity at the right time would probably have done?
No. Every cell in my body rejected that idea.
‘Either you’re too turned on to speak or you’re attempting to make this a party for one.’ I resisted her when she attempted to hasten my movements. I slowed down, then pressed my thumb against her engorged clit. She shuddered hard, and a hoarse cry broke from her lips. ‘Which one is it, Wren?’
‘I... I...’
I moved my thumb again and another cry ripped free. ‘Do you want me to make you come, baby?’
She hesitated for a mutinous second. Then nodded frantically. ‘Yes,’ she hissed.
‘Then I want to hear exactly how you want it. And I want you to say my name when you do.’ I hoped she wasn’t dating anyone, but hell if I was going to be a replacement for some absent arsehole.
I circled my thumb and her head jerked back, pushing into the hedge. ‘I want it deeper, Jasper. Faster.’
I smiled in unashamed triumph and increased the tempo. Immediately, she got even wetter...
Bloody hell. Any more and she would blow the top of my head clean off. Or more likely make me blow my load in my pants like a damned schoolboy. But I couldn’t stop fucking her with my fingers any more than I could stop breathing. The sounds she was making from both sets of her lips were driving me insane.
‘Slide two fingers into your mouth for me, baby. Make them nice and wet.’
Her eyes widened but she obeyed my instruction. The sight of her sliding her digits slowly into her mouth was almost too much to bear. Unable to resist, I swooped down and added my tongue to the play, licking her fingers as she withdrew them. Her pussy clenched around my fingers, a sign that she’d enjoyed that little action. I filed it at the back of my mind for next time as she rested her wet fingers against her lips.
‘I have a few ideas of what you can do with those fingers. But I’d love to see you play with your gorgeous nipples.’
Her breath caught then released, and her fingers dropped to one exposed, beaded nipple. Slowly, she circled the bud, gasping as sensation piled high. Then she transferred her attention to the other peak, her breath coming faster as she pleasured herself.
Her pussy began to tighten around my fingers, making pushing inside her both a sizzling thrill and a torture. She wetted two more fingers, then, with both hands, tugged and tortured her nipples as I pumped inside her.
In under a minute, she started to unravel. And it was the most stunning thing I’d ever seen.
‘Don’t stop. Please... I’m close. So close...’ Her hips jerked as she chased her bliss. With a sharp cry, she started to come.
Driven by lust, I dropped to my knees and replaced my thumb with my mouth. Gripping her thighs to hold her open, I sucked her clit hard and long.
A keening cry surged up her throat, the sound tormenting me as I groaned and sucked her harder. Rolling convulsions slammed into her, fresh wetness dripping over my lips.
‘Jasper!’
Frantic fingers gripped my hair and her whole body shook wildly. I cupped her bottom to hold her steady as her knees weakened and her body sagged. I wanted to eat her pussy for ever, but her frantic whimpers turned a little urgent.
The kind that suggested reality was returning.
I stayed an extra minute, licked her clean with gentle laps of my tongue as her trembling quieted and the hold in my hair loosened. And just for the hell of it and because she was too addictive to resist, I shoved my fingers inside her one last time as I kissed my way up her body to her mouth. Our lips fused and our tongues tangled for another minute while I committed her taste to memory before removing my fingers from her.
Still watching her, I brought my hands to my mouth and licked the last of her taste off. When I was done, I readjusted her knickers and helped her redress.
Silence throbbed between us as she furiously avoided my gaze. I suppressed a sigh and shoved my fists into my pocket to stop myself from reaching for her.
‘Are you okay?’
She stared at me for a handful of seconds before she nodded. ‘Yes.’ Another several seconds drifted by. Then, ‘Thank you.’
‘My pleasure,’ I replied, my voice more than a little gruff.
Her gaze dropped tellingly to the raging hard-on tenting my trousers. I laughed around the agony of my erection. ‘Believe it or not, watching you come was a pleasure. Maybe we can—’
The words dried in my throat as her expression altered. Within a blink of an eye she was no longer the sated siren at one with the foliage around her.
She was a cool and collected princess, dispensing rejection. ‘This was a one-time thing. Gratefully received but something I intend to forget at the earliest opportunity.’
Disappointment—and, yes, blistering anger because I’d hoped this could be the start of...something—unravelled through me. ‘You think I’m that forgettable, sweetheart?’ I asked, modulating my voice to that deceptive pitch that always confused my opponents. They weren’t sure whether I was pissed off or indulging whatever mood they were in.
Fleeting uncertainty chased across her face before she marshalled it.
‘I do.’ She handed back my jacket, her lips once again curved in that fake, dismissive smile. ‘Because it’s already in the past,’ she said.
‘Like hell it is. We’re going to fuck, Wren. I’m going to make you come many, many more times. It’s simply a matter of when.’
I gave her props for attempting to fight her excitement. She fussed with her hair, rearranged her scarf and tugged her zip another fraction upwards. And when she achieved that facade of outrage, I allowed it. I intended to disprove it at the very next opportunity.
‘I allowed a moment of temporary madness, Jasper. Don’t hold your breath that it’ll happen again.’
She started to walk away. I shrugged on my jacket and followed. ‘Wren.’
She paused without turning.
I stepped around to face her. ‘I still want to know where your brother is. This time I’m not taking no for an answer.’
The eyes she lifted to mine were haunted, filled with the tension I’d sensed in her all evening. For a handful of seconds, she pressed her lips together. Then her gaze shifted away from mine. ‘I don’t know.’
Instinct suggested she wasn’t lying. ‘When was the last time you heard from him?’
A shaft of pain crossed her flawless features. ‘My mother spoke to him a week ago.’
Her mother. Not her. Was that the reason for the tension between them?
‘I need to reach him, Wren.’
Her face tightened. ‘Is that why you followed me here? To pump me for information?’
I bit back my irritation. ‘We both know what just happened has been a long time coming, pun intended. Don’t demean it.’
Her eyes flickered and I could’ve sworn she blushed. Slightly mollified, I trailed my knuckles over her warm cheek. ‘Doesn’t change the fact that I still need to hear from Perry, though.’ I dropped my hand. ‘When you do get in touch with him, tell him it’s in his interest to contact me, asap.’ Knowing I needed to leave before I gave in to the urge to re-enact that heady episode again, I stepped away.
‘That sounds like a threat,’ she challenged.
I turned back to the woman I intended to have, again and again, in the very near future, and smiled. ‘You can see it as such if you want. It’s a simple statement that says I’m done playing games. He’s fucking around with something important to me. Sooner or later, he’s going to have to answer to me. How much mercy I show him is entirely up to him.’
