Bad Reputation Read online

  He reached for her hand and pulled it to him, guiding her fingers around his bare cock. Her nostrils flared and her eyes turned black and smoky. Damn, those eyes. They reflected everything she felt—fear, determination, desire. Whatever was so far beyond desire that she looked like sex personified. She held nothing back.

  With his hand covering hers, he worked her grip up and down his length. Blood surged through his veins, making him impossibly hard.

  “God, Wes.” Her mouth was open, her eyes fixed on the slick up-down rhythm of their hands. Watching her watching them was doing unspeakable things to him. Pressure built at the base of his cock, urging him to thrust into her hand. Hard. Faster. To take what he needed.

  But there was no way in hell he was going to rush tonight. For all he knew, she’d leave tomorrow morning and act like it never happened. He needed to string it out, fill his head with memories in case that’s all she left behind.

  He let her hand go and she continued to stroke him, flicking her thumb over the head of his erection in a way that made his balls feel tight and achy.

  “Was this part of your fantasies?” She gave him a tight squeeze and he grabbed her head with both hands, slamming his lips down on hers. Her hand continued to work him, getting rougher and bolder with each stroke.

  “Everything was, Remi. If you can physically do it, I imagined it.” He grinned against her mouth. “And I imagined some things that were impossible too.”

  “Creative,” she murmured.

  Reluctantly, he pulled his head away from hers and reached for the tap. “Bed. Now.”

  “I thought you were enjoying yourself.” Her lips tilted up into a smirk.

  “Too much.” He brought his hand down on her bare ass, and the smacking sound echoed against the tiles in the shower. “And if you keep doing that, I’m going to give you cause for a second shower.”

  She laughed. “Maybe I want to get you off with my hands.”

  “Later,” he growled. “I’m not going to waste tonight on hand jobs when I can get between your legs again.”

  He helped her out of the shower and bundled her up in his robe. The fluffy, white fabric made her look like an angel, especially with all her glossy, sunshine hair tangling around her shoulders.

  “And to think I was calling you Mr. Nice Guy. You’re so demanding.”

  “It was Mr. Genial.” He backed them into his bedroom without even bothering to dry himself off. Water ran in rivulets down his chest and she traced them with her finger. “That really pissed me off.”

  “Poor baby,” she teased. “Such a fragile male ego you have.”

  “You’re asking for it, Remi. I can be really fucking impolite in bed.”

  She threw him a haughty look. “I don’t believe it for a second.”

  He picked her up and her surprised squeal pierced his ears. The bed squeaked as he unceremoniously dropped her and was over her in a flash, pushing the robe open. Her bare sex was gleaming, slick with need. She didn’t believe him to be anything but the nice guy? Ha. He was going to fix that.

  He spread her legs and dipped his head between them without any pretense. His reward was a long, deep moan from above, followed by a sharp snap of pain when her nails raked over his scalp. In the bedroom, she came undone immediately, her body turning pliant in his hands.

  He nudged her clit with this tongue, listening for her cues to see where she liked it most. Learning her. And she had no problem communicating here. He drew the sensitive bud between his lips, and she arched off the bed, her back bowing as her hand held him down.

  “Yes! There.” Her thighs trembled against his ears and he pulled back, chuckling as she made a frustrated noise in the back of her throat. “Why did you stop?”

  “Because when you come, I want to be all the way inside you.” He reached into his bedside drawer and pulled a condom out. “I want to feel you squeeze me so hard I think I’m going to break.”

  She propped herself up on her elbows and smirked at him. “When I come? Not if?”

  “It’s one hundred percent when.” He sheathed himself and stalked up the bed, settling between her legs. “I can play your body like a harp.”

  “Oh, is that right?” She looped her arms around his neck. “You think I’m so easy.”

  “Nah, I’m just that talented.” He winked and they both dissolved in laughter.

  That’s how it was with her—fun. Funny. Sweet.

  He grabbed her hips and rolled the two of them over, so she was straddling him. The view was everything. Her long, damp hair tumbled down over her breasts and brushed his stomach when she leaned forward. He’d met a lot of women who talked a big game until they were stripped down, but Remi was the opposite. She knew she was sexy and desirable, and she wasn’t ashamed of it. He loved that about her. And together, they were comfortable. They worked.

  But tomorrow it would be gone, dissolved like cotton candy on an eager tongue.

  That’s definitely a Future Wes problem.

  Tonight, he was going to live in the moment.

  “You’ve got a big mouth, Wes.” She nipped at his chin. “You’re always talking, talking, talking.”

  “Are you used to quiet fucking?”

  She shifted her hips, allowing him to position himself at her entrance. “I don’t let myself get used to anything.”

  “That’ll have to change.” He groaned when she slid herself down on him, slow and steady, her hands planted on his stomach. “You’re going to be feeling me for days.”

  She rolled her hips, tilting back and forth until she found the right spot. He saw the moment she got there, because her eyes fluttered shut and her hands balled into fists. He pulled her down against his chest, wrapping his arms around her waist. Hot breath fanned out over his neck as she rode him, her face buried in his neck.

  When her legs started to shake again, his fingers bit into her hips and he thrust faster and faster, determined to get there at the same time she did. She tipped over a few seconds before him, the tremors running through her body and into his.

  The last thing he remembered was the sound of his name hoarse on her lips.

  * * *

  Remi wasn’t sure what woke her. It might have been the cooling of the sheets in Wes’s bed or the savory scent wafting in from the kitchen. It could have been the clink of bowls and cutlery or the light filtering in under the closed bedroom door.

  She pushed up into a sitting position and raked her hair out of her face. At some point, she’d been covered with a crisp, white sheet, but Remi didn’t even remember making it under the covers. They’d been furious in their devouring of one another—teasing and taunting and grabbing to the point they’d never even pulled the duvet cover back.

  In fact, the last thing she remembered was Wes’s arms around her, easing her to one side as he stayed inside her after they’d both come. And holy freaking smokes, what an orgasm. She’d had some fine lovers in her time but nothing this…primal. Wes brought her to life in a way that no one else had.

  She ran her fingertips over the sheets, too smooth and unrumpled to have been involved in their lovemaking. What the hell was she doing? It was one thing to admit that she had no willpower and to indulge in her attraction. It was another thing entirely to come here and play happy lovers.

  This is exactly what you did last time. You were attracted to Alex and you allowed it to make you stupid.

  She’d seen things that weren’t there, signs he never put out. Not to mention the fact that she was now lying to Wes. Well, by omission, anyway.

  Freaking Annie. Groaning, Remi dropped her head into her hands and tried to make sense of it all. Her best friend was easily the most wanted woman in all of New York. It wasn’t like the app had never come up in conversation. They’d talked about it. Messaged one another with screenshots of reviews. Used it repeatedly.

  That
meant there had been a whole lot of opportunity for Annie to say, Hey, about that app. I created it. But both her and Darcy had kept Remi out of the loop. It was the first time since she’d entered their little circle of friendship that she’d truly felt like an outsider.

  It would be one thing if the app didn’t affect her or anyone she knew…but it did.

  Now, what was she supposed to do? It was an impossible choice—pick her friend or her career. Her pseudo family member or the guy who held the key to her dreams. She’d been on the losing end of that choice before, and now suddenly she was the one facing it.

  Remi climbed off the bed and wandered into Wes’s master bathroom to find her dress and underwear in a heap on the floor. She pulled her panties up over her hips and slipped her arms into the dress. Walking back into the bedroom, she wrapped the fabric ties around her body and knotted them at her waist.

  She paused at the closed bedroom door that led to the rest of the apartment, pressing her hand to the wood while she mustered the courage to face him. It was messed up, but Remi was more comfortable in the throes of sex than in the moments after. With every other guy since Alex, she’d changed as soon as the deed was done and left with a saucy wink or a lingering kiss. She always left.

  Only tonight, she’d fallen asleep entwined in his arms. This was different. He was different.

  “Woman up,” she said to herself. “You can make a swift exit and then go on like it never happened.”

  But the second she pushed the bedroom door open, her heart melted. His dining table was set for two, a bottle of wine open with two glasses waiting. Wes was in the kitchen, concentrating on measuring out some soy sauce into a sizzling pan on the stove. The guy even had an apron on. Seriously, who the hell was he?

  It was like someone had polled a bunch of women and created the perfect man. Handsome face, incredible body, a giving lover, and a whiz in the kitchen judging by the scent.

  “You’re so perfect it’s kind of ridiculous,” she said.

  He whipped his head around, the surprised expression morphing into a sexy smile. “For someone who had enough orgasms to put her to sleep, you sure are full of insults.”

  She padded over to him, her bare feet making soft slapping sounds against the floorboards. “Maybe you should try harder to be less intimidating.”

  “It’s all in your head, Remi.” He slipped a finger behind the waist tie and pulled her closer.

  “You can’t possibly be ready to go again.” She laughed and pressed a hand to his crotch, as though this was totally normal behavior, and found him hard again. “Bloody hell. You’re a machine.”

  “A sex machine.”

  “That’s not normal.” She couldn’t help but rub her hand up and down. Call her shallow, but she was all kinds of excited knowing he was so eager for her. “I have serious concerns for your health and well-being.”

  “What do I do, Doc?” He drew her against him, walking them away from the stove until he hit the other set of cupboards behind him. Her hips swirled against his, eliciting the bite of his fingers at her waist. “How do I rectify this issue?”

  “I don’t know if anything can be done. You might have to amputate.”

  “Whoa.” He grabbed her by the shoulders, his brow crinkled. “You never joke about that kind of thing. You trying to give me a heart attack or something?”

  She laughed and draped her arms over his shoulders. “At least that might slow you down.”

  “There will be no further discussion of cutting off my manhood, thank you very much.” He looked her in the eyes and she felt it right down to her toes, making them curl against the polished boards. How did he do that to her? It was such a small thing and yet it was…everything. “Now, can I interest you in my specialty?”

  “You ask me now, after I’ve had your specialty twice tonight?” She bit down on her lip when he rolled his eyes.

  “I’m trying to be romantic here and you’ve got your mind in the gutter.” He didn’t look annoyed in the slightest. “I might be a machine, but even machines need fuel.”

  Dinner. It seemed a whole lot scarier than the touching and kissing and panting. The smart move would be to bail now, before things got weird. Before they started talking and doing that kind of stuff she generally avoided.

  But the truth was she was really freaking hungry.

  “It smells amazing,” she admitted.

  “It’s my go-to—honey, soy, and ginger stir-fry with whatever vegetables I happen to have in my fridge.” He released her. “Tonight that’s carrots, snap peas, and red peppers.”

  Most guys wouldn’t have worried about dinner. A good guy might have offered to call the local Chinese takeout place. Wes had made her something healthy and delicious like it was nothing.

  “Why are you so sweet?” she asked, folding her arms across her chest. “Have you got some kind of trick up your sleeve?”

  He chuckled. “Yeah, I want to feed you so we can go back to bed afterward.”

  “You don’t need to feed me to do that.”

  “Maybe I enjoy your company. Is that so hard to believe?” He grabbed a wooden spoon and stirred the vegetables around the wok, lifting the scent of ginger and garlic into the air. Remi’s mouth watered. “And, despite what you might have read, I don’t fuck around for the sake of it. If I sleep with someone, it’s because I like them.”

  The scariest thing of all was that Remi wanted to believe him. Normally when a guy tossed her a line like that, she’d smile and nod all the while thinking, yeah right. It never affected her, because she refused to put herself in a situation where she’d get attached. Like the time she had a friends-with-benefits arrangement with a guy who lived in Las Vegas. He’d only ever come to New York for one or two nights at a time. It was fun. Only fun.

  That was the kind of thing she needed in her life. Something low maintenance and low commitment that required the minimum attention. Like a cactus.

  Cactus sex, good. Homemade stir-fries and real conversation sex, bad.

  “In case that wasn’t clear enough, I like you,” he added.

  No, no, no.

  Her head had clearly gotten the memo, but the uneven, too-fast thump of her heart showed that not all major body parts were on the same page. And that was a problem.

  “This is the part where you give me some verbal indication of whether or not that feeling is reciprocated.” He shot her a crooked smile. “So I don’t stand here like an idiot twiddling my thumbs.”

  Her first instinct was to make some kind of joke that revolved around an inappropriate use of the word twiddle.

  “I like you too,” she said.

  Wrong answer! Abort mission. I repeat, abort mission.

  But her damned feet didn’t move. It was like someone had superglued her to the ground. Instead, she wrung her hands and tried not to grin like an idiot at this impossibly perfect guy who’d cast a spell on her.

  “You sure it’s not the endorphins speaking?” she asked. “Sex makes the brain do funny things.”

  “I know the difference between lust and like.” He dipped the spoon into the sauce simmering away on the stove and blew on the steam curling upward before bringing it to her lips. “And I haven’t wanted to cook a meal for someone in a long time.”

  She let him pass the spoon between her lips and sighed when the flavors exploded on her tongue. Seemed the bedroom wasn’t the only area where Wes had some serious skills.

  “Suddenly I’m very hungry,” she said.

  “So that means you’re not going to run away when I turn my back?” he teased.

  She shook her head. “You’ve convinced me to stay.”

  He pulled two bowls down from an overhead cupboard and set them next to the stove so he could serve their dinner. Remi went to her ballet bag and fished out her phone. Five missed calls and twice as many texts. Both Darcy and Ann
ie had been trying to get ahold of her.

  She would have to deal with that issue soon. Remi looked back at Wes as he carried their bowls to the table, his sweats hanging low on his hips and his white T-shirt clinging to his muscled chest. Her mouth was watering, and it had nothing to do with the stir-fry.

  Annie and Darcy could wait. The whole Bad Bachelors thing could wait. Another day wasn’t going to make a lick of difference. For once, she wanted to forget her issues and indulge in things that made her feel good, like the old Remi used to.

  “I feel like I know nothing about you,” she said, taking a seat.

  Wes sat across from her, filled their water glasses, and set the bottle down. “After all we’ve done tonight, you feel like you don’t know anything about me?”

  “Well, I now know some things.” She laughed. “But I spilled my whole sordid past in the limo after the cocktail party and I haven’t got anything in return.”

  “Ah, so it’s an eye for an eye with you.” He speared a piece of carrot on his fork. “What do you want to know? I’m an open book.”

  For some reason she didn’t quite believe it. Wes came across easy and breezy, the funny guy with the quick smile and charming quips. But something told her that was all surface-level stuff. The veneer.

  “What are you afraid of in life?”

  Wes blinked. “You sure you don’t have a background in investigative journalism. Geez, talk about jumping in with the hard hitters.”

  Never once had she asked a date anything meaningful like that. Usually it was all What would you take to a desert island? and Where would you go if money was no object? kind of questions. But something deep inside her wanted to connect with Wes. Wanted to know him beyond what he presented to the world. Maybe she’d been starved for connection for too long.

  Or maybe it’s that the whole “I like you” thing really means something.

  More likely, it was that she’d opened up to him and she wanted to know whether he would do the same for her.

  “I’m afraid people use me,” he said. He reached for his water and took a gulp.