Under Pressure Read online

  She went back to their downtown apartment, numbly packed his belongings and had them sitting by the door when he showed up an hour later with a red lipstick stain on his collar.

  Finding out Kiefer’s true colors had been a blessing, but she wasn’t sure she could ever trust another man.

  She darted a glance across the leather seat. Spark was rubbing his jaw as if to relieve stress. She could relate.

  A thread of guilt sliced through her. Was she making a mistake being here now?

  Dragging her gaze to the side window, sprinkles plopped onto the window, blurring the streetlights that lit their way.

  Once they pulled into the motel lot, she pointed to the side parking spaces for easy access to her room. “I’m in 250.” She unsnapped her belt. He didn’t make a move to do the same. “Aren’t you planning to walk me in?”

  Excitement dribbled through her—and it had nothing to do with carrying out a plan or revenge. If only things were different…

  He blinked. “Do you need me to?” His knuckles turned white as he gripped the steering wheel. “You seem like the independent type.”

  Conjuring a sappy, sweet smile and a blinking of eyelashes, she’d never been this amiable ever. She deserved an Academy Award. “I just know I’d feel much safer with a brawny specimen of a man like you next to me. I hear horror stories of women walking to their rooms and being attacked.” To drive home the effect, she laid her hand on his biceps and squeezed. This action was supposed to be for his benefit, not hers, but pleasure heated her body. She was amazed at how toned he was. In any other situation, she’d like to explore him a little more—a lot more—and follow the bends and coils of other muscles.

  Clearing her throat, and her scrambled brain, she dropped her hand.

  His gaze narrowed.

  She’d love to know what he was thinking.

  Turning off the engine, he pulled out the key. “Then let’s do this.”

  Chapter Three

  SPARK’S PLAN TO drop her off and get the hell away wasn’t working like he’d wanted.

  He’d come to the realization that she was a liar, a manipulator and she was tossing around her ladylike charm like candy at a parade. He was like a kid watching the cavalcade, hands held out, begging for a treat.

  He should have dropped her off at the front door and been on his way.

  Now he was following her into the side door and his attention was caught up in the gentle sway of her hips. He was certain that the added sashay was an act too. But he wasn’t foolish enough to ignore the show.

  What a mighty fine ass too, as he’d realized earlier.

  The heart-shaped buttocks glided as if inviting a pair of big hands. He wondered if she minded calluses.

  He skimmed his gaze to the diamond-shaped space between her inner thighs and his cock twitched, threatening to burst a seam or two.

  No harm in admiring, as long as he didn’t touch—but the rule was losing its significance.

  She came to a sudden stop. He brought his chin up and their gazes locked. He half expected her to yell at him for ogling, but instead she sported a wide Hollywood smile spotlighting plump pink lips and a row of even, white teeth.

  Wow…she was working it hard.

  She smoothed her hand over her hair then tucked a lock behind her ear. Her small diamond earring twinkled in the overhead light.

  Women were cunning creatures and, for the life of him, he’d never understand one. He didn’t do relationships, and this was why. No matter how much he wanted to share his life with the perfect woman, there was no perfect woman for him, and there laid the problem.

  Just like with Jewels. She seemed like a perfect mate—until he added in that she was a liar and high-maintenance. Something always dirtied the pool when it came to possibilities.

  “My room is on the second floor. Let’s ride the elevator.” She was already pressing the up button and the doors slid open.

  “Maybe I should take off.” Her fingers dug into the thin fabric of his shirt and dragged him into the empty cubicle. “Or not,” he mumbled.

  The doors closed.

  Before he could take a deep breath, she pushed him against the mirrored wall, pressed her palms into his chest and looked up at him with the brightest eyes he’d ever seen. “What’s wrong, cowboy? You look like a deer in headlights.”

  Now what was she doing? “This is a bit unexpected.” He was tired and frustrated, and before she shimmied her body up against his, making his decision hard and his body harder, he guessed he should just tell her that he knew who she was and end this once and for all. “I know—”

  She moved her mouth to his, her tongue sweeping out to lick his lower lip, ending any possible word exchange. The combination of her scent and the feel of her soft curves broke his concentration as every nook and cranny of his body tightened. His mind blared a warning as his cock ignored the caution.

  When she dropped her fingers into the opening of his shirt, dragging her fingernails across his skin, all restraint burst.

  Would it hurt if he sampled her, just a little?

  After all, she was offering. He wouldn’t let things get too far…

  He brought his hands to her shoulders and turned her, pushing her gently against the wall. He watched her eyes widen in the reflection of the mirror, but delight quickly filled the warm orbs.

  Oh, so she liked a man who took control.

  Burying his fingers in her glossy, long hair, he grinned. The waves were as silken as he thought they’d be. He knew the tresses would feel amazing feathering over his naked body as he prepared to plunge inside of her.

  He’d taken dirt baths in the rodeo that didn’t send his adrenaline rushing as fast as it was now.

  The realization washed over him that Jewels was trouble.

  Her chin shifted and her lips parted in silent summons. He wasted no time. Dropping his mouth to hers in a sideways angle, he buried his tongue deep into her moist cave, lapping up her sweet cotton candy flavor mixed with a hint of beer.

  He couldn’t get enough.

  He turned her around, pressing her back against the mirror.

  Diving his tongue back between her lips, he tickled the roof of her mouth. She moaned and he swallowed the raspy sound. Her arms swept up around his neck and her breasts warmed his chest, nice firm mounds that he wanted to lick and suckle.

  That’d be crossing the line.

  The ‘line’ snapped.

  Tongues dueling, heart pounding, he needed to touch more. Sliding his hand from her hair, down along the smooth curve of her collarbone, he dipped his fingers into the scooped neck of her shirt. He pushed aside the wispy bra and cupped one breast. Her nipple tightened against his palm and her whimpers urged him to continue, beckoned him to explore all of her.

  Ding!

  Spark pulled back just as the door opened. He stepped across the cubicle and she quickly fixed her shirt. A couple stood in the hallway, thankfully engrossed in a conversation about a political debate, otherwise they would have seen the pout of Jewels’ lips, and the swelling in his jeans.

  She had taken three steps when she stopped and turned. “Coming?”

  Teetering on the fence of right and wrong, he always followed the golden rule, ‘never sleep with or enjoy an employer’s daughter.’

  A sliver of impulse deep within urged him to entertain himself. She lured him with her sultry looks and sexy body. She wanted this. Hell, he wanted this more than he could find words to describe.

  If the boss found out, he wouldn’t have a job.

  Her gaze narrowed and her impatience showed in her thinning mouth. The couple had already stepped into the elevator, their curious eyes on him.

  He needed to make a decision.

  Against better judgment, he stepped across the threshold and followed her, his anticipation growing.

  At room 250, she pulled the key card from her purse and unlocked the door.

  Once inside, there was no going back.

  ~°°°~ />
  What the hell am I doing?

  Jewels chastised herself for kissing the enemy—and worse, wanting the enemy.

  This was supposed to be a no-touching mission. Dancing with him and enjoying him was clearly against better judgment.

  And why-oh-why did it feel so good breaking the rules with a hunk like Spark?

  Excusing herself, she slipped into the bathroom and stood in front of the mirror. She stared at herself, questioning if she was still strong enough to carry out her plan. She could abort and send him on his way. But then, what lesson would he learn in playing women?

  Her throat filled with a prickly ache. Since she’d met him, he hadn’t once manipulated her or pushed himself on her, like Jewels believed he would, at least from her sister’s description of him.

  Clearly, Jewels was the manipulator.

  And a liar.

  Tears filled her eyes.

  One thing she couldn’t lie about, he made her tingle from inside out.

  And the kiss they’d shared…wow! She hadn’t planned it, but she’d never known a better impulsive act. He’d tasted so good and she’d cursed the damned elevator for going fast at the most inopportune moment.

  She needed to wipe any thought of a naked cowboy right out of her mind.

  If she was going to do what she came to do, then she must get back on track…and no kisses involved, no matter how succulent—even if his hands on her skin had awakened sleeping nerve endings.

  The man wasn’t who he pretended to be.

  Had she forgotten that he’d lied to her sister?

  Anger slithered through her. The man was a pig…he’d slept with Em, and after they’d made plan after plan, he’d stood her up the following day. Em had called his number, only to realize it had been disconnected.

  Of course, her sister had made the mistake of trusting a stranger, but what man would sink so low? Not to mention Em was at least ten years younger than Spark.

  If he’d wanted a one-night stand, he should have made that clear instead of making empty promises.

  Jewels was losing hope in the male population.

  Giving her hair a quick finger-comb and reapplying a layer of lip gloss, she went back into the room where she found Spark leaning against the wall, his hat pushed low on his forehead, shadowing his eyes. The grim set of his jaw had returned some.

  Nervously, she brushed past him to the mini fridge and opened the door. Stocked with a selection of miniature bottles of liquor and cans of pop, she scanned the variety. She wasn’t much of a drinker, never had been, but needed something to calm the battle of good and evil spiraling through her. Spark apparently needed one also because his frown was extending.

  “Care for a whiskey?” She didn’t wait for his answer before grabbing two bottles.

  “It’s getting late. I should be going. I have to be up bright and early.” He pushed his hat back and watched her move toward him. Her stomach did several flips, and she ignored the fact that her panties turned moist—a normal side effect of a long-term dry spell. She hadn’t had a man alone in her room in a long time so of course a physical reaction was in store.

  “Don’t be a party pooper, Sparkey. It’s early.” She tossed one of the bottles and he caught it against his chest.

  His jaw ticked. “Early for a late riser. Have you ever been up with the sunrise?”

  Yeah, he was back to his snarky self. “Don’t you ever throw caution to the wind and live for the moment?”

  “No.” His lip curled.

  “Wow, what a sheltered life you lead.”

  “I call it a responsible life.” His low and thick voice made her knees wobble.

  “Most people find a balance between pleasure and work.” Opening the bottle, she gave the lid a toss toward the trashcan, missed and hit the wall instead.

  “I hope your balancing act is better than your long shot.” A smile played at the corner of his mouth. He pushed away from the wall, strolled confidently to the chair and plopped his muscular body into the cushion. He brought the whiskey to his lips and drank half of it.

  Removing her heels, she wiggled her toes and could have moaned in relief. Why do so many women torture themselves? Once upon a time—in the stupid Kiefer phase—she wouldn’t leave home unless she was dressed in her best.

  Times had certainly changed.

  Plopping onto the bed, she stretched out on her stomach and propped on her elbows, watching him. She wished she had her camera. He’d make a pretty picture. His features weren’t smooth like a lot of models, but he had a rugged quality the camera would love. His dark skin complemented his beautiful eyes. Unlike many of the cowboy wannabes she’d snapped over the years who’d acquired their tan through a tin can, he was natural. His shoulders were wide, the mark of a hardworking cowboy.

  She’d never dated a cowboy. Dusty hat, cow wrangling, callused hands had never been her type—until now. But he wasn’t like every other cowboy she’d met. There was just something about him she couldn’t pinpoint.

  His hair was a bit longish, touching the nape of his neck. To slide her fingers through the silken locks, she’d have to first remove his Stetson, which would be a treat. What woman wouldn’t want to help this man with his hat? Or his worn jeans?

  Following his hand with her gaze, his fingers slid down the neck of the bottle and to the label where he picked at the corner. A part of her—a big aching part—wondered what his big hands would feel like on other areas of her heated skin, besides her still tingling breast. Her lungs seized, making breathing almost impossible. Taking a long drink, she gritted her teeth as the liquor burned its way into her stomach. She attempted to stay focused. Allowing her mind to wander down a path of no exit couldn’t happen.

  Here for one reason, and one reason only, she didn’t want to make a new friend with benefits.

  The silence became overwhelming.

  “Are you always wearing a frown or is it just my company?” she asked.

  “Didn’t know I was.” His expression remained somber.

  “You have a nice smile. You should wear one more often.”

  He shrugged and his shirt tightened across his chest. “I’m confused. You don’t look like the type who is desperate for company. So, it leaves me wondering why you’re practically throwing yourself at me.”

  He didn’t mince words—and she liked it.

  She was tired of meeting men who said what they thought a woman wanted to hear, instead of just being themselves.

  She was about to cut her fishing line if she wasn’t careful.

  Heaving a sorrowful sigh, she picked at a loose thread on the hideous, flowered comforter. “I experienced a bad breakup a few months ago. This would have been our sixth anniversary of dating and, well, I guess I’m suffering a bit of a post-traumatic thing.”

  “Life isn’t fair.” His throaty Texas-twang sent chills of delight along her flesh.

  His gaze was on her, peripherally skimming her body with his amazing eyes. Self-consciously, she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and shifted on the bed. Not only was life not fair, but there were times it sucked miserably.

  Bringing her chin up, their gazes met and a flood of excitement raced through her. For the longest time they stared at each other, goose bumps washed her skin as her toes curled. She’d like to think he was feeling a bit of the same turbulent inner sensations, but his locked jaw told her he was more irritated than anything.

  Pushing herself up from the bed, she went to the mini-fridge and grabbed two more bottles. On her way back across the room, she dropped one bottle into his lap as she moved past him. At first, she thought he’d refuse, but instead, he popped the lid and downed the whiskey in one gulp. Maybe he was feeling something after all.

  She didn’t bother opening hers but set it on the nightstand.

  Sitting back on the bed, she slid against the stack of pillows and situated her body in the best sexy pose she could muster. Locking her gaze with his, she patted the empty space next to her. “I won
’t bite, at least not hard.” She wriggled her brows. The alcohol oozed relaxation through her veins and the room warmed.

  Would he take the bait?

  “This seat’s just fine.”

  “A lonely girl just needs a hug now and then.” Her stomach rolled in disgust. Would he actually fall for this sappy sweet nonsense?

  He smiled, stood up and moved to the bed. Thick thigh muscles bulged as he walked, and she grazed her attention over another swelling behind his zipper. Surprise washed over her. Maybe her seduction did work.

  When he sat on the edge of the bed, the mattress sank under his weight and his heat enveloped her in a pleasurable cocoon. She could only imagine how much pleasure she’d get from his brawny arms wrapped around her waist, their naked bodies molded together.

  The area between her thighs rose in temperature, threatening to consume the rest of her.

  Control, girl. Lots of control.

  “You look tense.” She pulled herself up on her knees, gaining her poise on the bed. “I know how to fix that.”

  “Is that right?”

  “I’ll let you be the judge. Turn,” she demanded.

  “What?” One thick brown curved.

  “I need to reach your back.” Once he did as she requested, she lowered her fingers to his broad shoulders, kneading the tight muscle through the material of his flannel. He loosened under her touch. Unfortunately, her muscles did the opposite.

  God, he was built like a brick house.

  Years of cow wrangling, fence building and horse riding did him good in all of the right places. She had to wonder if all areas of his body were above average in size. It was natural to be curious.

  Without thought, she leaned forward and eased herself around, checking out his lap.

  “You okay?” he asked, dragging her from her musing.

  Straightening, her body quivered. “Y-Yeah, I’m fine. You okay?”

  “Peachy.” His word vibrated his back. “I have to admit, this feels good.”

  “Yes, it does.” The words fell from her lips before she had time to apply a filter. “I mean, yes, it must. Your muscles are loose now.”