Author: Jaci Burton

She’d worn her La Perla bra and panties tonight. They were so pretty, a blush pink, with lace and silk. Sexy, provocative.

Unfortunately, the only person admiring the ensemble was her. She inhaled and let out a long sigh, removing the clip and pins holding her hair up. She ran her fingers through her hair, pulling it forward.

She wasn’t bad-looking. Average breasts, her body a little on the curvy side. She liked to eat and she could easily slip into the overweight category if she wasn’t so active. She had a lot of restless energy, so she burned a lot of calories that way, which kept her metabolism rolling at a pretty high rate. But she had great legs. She worked out regularly so she could maintain her stamina at the level required to keep up with her clients.

Like her new client, Cole Riley, who’d hit all her hot buttons tonight. Actually, he’d been the first client she’d been assigned to who’d turned her head and made her think of him as something other than just a client.

That man had testosterone stamped on every inch of him. He was hard to ignore. The way he looked at her, pursued her, made her wish he wasn’t her client.

But he was. Starting tomorrow.

Tonight, though, she could think about what might have happened had she been able to indulge in the attraction that had been so obvious between them.

She’d always gone for the bad boys, the kind her mother warned her against, which made her want them all the more. And the one thing her mother had told her was that you could never change a bad boy.

But that’s what she did now, and she did a damn good job of it.

Too bad she was going to have to change Cole Riley. He was bad boy personified, and one look at him tonight had revved all her engines.

She rubbed her thumbs over her nipples, sucking in a breath at the sensitivity she felt even through her bra.

She moved to the bedroom and stretched out on her bed. The bed she’d be sleeping alone in tonight, just like every night. She dug in her heels and pushed backward until she lay in the center of the bed, then spread her legs, letting the ceiling fan bathe her body with cool air.

Cole Riley was interesting. If he hadn’t been her assigned client, what might have happened between them tonight?

She undid the clasp on her bra and freed her breasts, allowing her hands to wander. Not at all the same as a man’s hands—a man’s very large hands that would cover her breasts, rolling her nipples between his fingers.

She gasped as the sensation sparked between her legs. She clamped her thighs together, her pussy pulsing with the need to be touched. She brushed her thumb over her nipple while snaking her hand down her stomach, closing her eyes as the image of what she and Cole could do together flashed into her mind.

Cole shouldn’t be in her fantasies. He was her new client, and thinking about him as she slid her hand inside her panties was a monumentally bad idea. But she couldn’t get him out of her head. He was who she wanted touching her. His hands would be calloused and strong, not feminine and soft as she stroked the silken folds of her sex. She wanted someone who’d demand her response, who’d know what to do with a woman’s body.

She gasped as she slid her fingers down, teasing the folds of her pussy with the light drag of her fingernails. Would Cole be gentle with her, or would he be rough as he dipped two fingers inside her, using the heel of his hand against her clit.

She arched against the sensation, closing her eyes and imagining him next to her, his lips closing over her nipple, drawing it into the wet heat of his mouth. She’d reach out and hold him there—her nipples were so sensitive. She’d want it harder, would need more of that delicious pain.

Moisture coated her fingers, spasms tightening around them as she pulled them out, then thrust them inside her again, fucking herself.

“Yes,” she whispered, digging her heels against the mattress as she lifted against the spiral of need that raged inside her. She needed to come. She needed it hard and deep. “Fuck me, Cole.”

He’d remove his fingers and take off his clothes, leaving her throbbing and wet and pulsing with anticipation, his cock hard and ready. And when he plunged inside her, she’d cry out. It had been so long. She’d wrap her legs around him as he filled her, so ready to climax that he’d shove her over the edge in only a couple thrusts.

“Oh, god, I’m going to come,” she whispered to the empty room as she rubbed her clit, her mind whirling with the imagined act. Cole was buried deep in her imagination, as hard as she imagined him buried inside her. She shoved her fingers deeper inside her pussy, using her other hand to strum her clit until she exploded, whimpering at the wash of incredible orgasm that sent wave after wave over her until she relaxed, limp on the bed, her legs splayed out while she caught her breath.

Mercy. She tried to swallow, but her throat had gone dry. She got up and went into the kitchen to grab some ice and a glass of water, her legs still quaking with the aftereffects of her climax. She headed back into the bathroom, stopping to stare at herself in the mirror.

A totally different picture now. Naked from the waist up, her hair was mussed from thrashing about on the bed. She wore only her panties and a decided blush on her cheeks.

Good Southern girls didn’t think about new clients the way she’d just done, and certainly didn’t masturbate thinking about them. Then again, she wasn’t a good Southern girl, was she? She had naughty thoughts and wicked desires and a need for a man to bring it all out of her. Too bad she didn’t have the time—or the right guy.

Of course, Cole Riley might have been the right guy, given the right circumstances. Tomorrow she was going to have to work with him, and she’d just had very dirty thoughts about him. That was wrong on so many levels.

She’d been tense lately, that was all. And had gone a very long time without a release. Cole had merely been—convenient. And attractive. And loaded with sex appeal. It had been natural for him to pop into her fantasies. But that was a one-time occasion, and it wasn’t going to happen again.

She was going to have to wipe this event from her thoughts.

Cole Riley was a client and not fantasy fodder.

THREE

“ONE MORE REP.”

On the bench press, Cole looked up at his trainer, Mario, at the moment wishing he could kick his ass. But since he currently held two hundred pounds of weight balancing precariously over his chest, he’d have to put a hold on that ass-kicking. He held the bar in his hands, sweat pouring off his brow, his arms shaking like a goddamned first-timer at the gym.

“Come on, you pussy, three more reps.”

He pushed, hoping like hell Mario would be there to catch the bar in case it came crashing down on his chest.

“That’s it, Cole. You’ve got it. You’re almost there.”

“Eat. Shit. And.” He racked the bar, sat up, and leaned over, feeling like he was going to puke. He swung his legs over the side of the bench and glared at Mario. “Die.”

Mario patted Cole on the back. “I knew you could do it.”

“Fuck you.”

“See, I’ve always suspected you had the hots for me. But you’re not my type.”

“Bullshit. I’m totally your type. Tall, well-built, and athletic.”

Mario laughed. “Exactly. Just like my boyfriend. But if you’re interested, I could set you up with a few really hot guys.”

Cole rolled his eyes at Mario, pushed off the bench and stood. “No, thanks. I have enough trouble dealing with women.” He looked at the front door, where Savannah was coming in. “Speaking of, here comes my newest problem.”

Mario followed Cole’s gaze. “Wow. She’s a stunner.”

Admittedly, Mario was right. In a conservative, short-sleeved red dress that clung to her curves and high heels that showcased her long legs, Savannah commanded attention.

She was beautiful. And irritating. And untrustworthy.

She walked through the doors into the gym, smiling when she saw him. She headed toward them, and Cole was struck again by her walk. And her legs. Damn her legs, anyway. He needed to remember the untrustworthy part.

“Good morning, Cole,” she said, then turned to Mario and held out her hand. “I’m Savannah Brooks.”

Mario shook her hand. “Mario Genino. I’m Cole’s trainer.”

She gave Cole the once-over. “You do a fine job of it, Mario.”

Mario laughed. “Thanks. I work him over pretty good. What do you do for Cole, Savannah?”

Oh, shit. The last thing he needed was for Mario—or anyone—to find out the team had hired a fucking image consultant for him. “She’s—”

“I’m doing some consulting work for him. Someone with Cole’s talent and vast portfolio needs expert assistance, as you can probably imagine.”

Mario nodded. “Hell, yeah. Have to protect his assets.”

Savannah smiled. “Indeed, we do.”

Mario glanced up at the clock. “I hate to greet and run, but my next client will be coming in soon. Nice to meet you, Savannah. Cole, I’ll abuse you again tomorrow.”

“Of course. I wouldn’t want to keep you. Nice meeting you, Mario,” Savannah said.

“Yeah, see you, Mario.” Cole waited until Mario left, then turned to her. “You lied. Again.”

She lifted her chin. “I did not.”

“You didn’t tell him what you were really hired to do.”

“I don’t think it’s anyone’s business. And I merely altered the truth a bit, while not lying.”

He crossed his arms. “Whatever. What’s on the agenda for today?”

“Your workout is finished?”

“Yeah.”

“What are your plans after this?”

“Lunch. I need to load up on some protein after I work out.”

“Fine. We’ll have lunch, and I’ll go over the plans.”

“Okay. I need to shower.”

“I’ll wait for you in the lobby.”

She was being accommodating. Nice. He didn’t want her to be nice. He wanted to argue with her. He wanted her to be a bitch. Anything so he wouldn’t like her.

He showered and dressed, and when he went out to the lobby, she was talking to a couple of the guys from the team who’d come to work out. Single and a few years younger than him, Jamarcus Davis and Lon Fields were offensive stars on the Traders. Both had reputations for being lady-killers, and rightly so. Solidly built, damn good-looking, and friendly with women, they were loaded with charm, and even worse, neither of them had shitty reputations like he did.

Looked like they were charming Savannah, too. She had a smile on her face when he got close. She was even laughing—that damn laugh that made his balls quiver.

She caught his eye as he approached. “Oh, there you are.”

Jamarcus and Lon turned, too, and their smiles died.

“You’re with Riley?” Jamarcus asked, surprise on his face.

“Yes, I am. Are you ready to go, Cole?”

“Yup.” He took Savannah’s arm and led her to the door, winking at Jamarcus and Lon. “See you later, guys.”

“Yeah, later, Cole,” Lon said with obvious disappointment.

“We can take your car if that’s all right with you,” Savannah said, sliding her sunglasses on as they stepped outside. “You can just drop me off after we’re finished.”

“That’s fine.”

“Let me grab my briefcase first.” She stopped at one of those hybrid tree-hugger cars, grabbed a leather bag, then joined him at his gas-guzzler SUV.

“Sorry,” he said as she climbed in, hiking her dress up. “I didn’t know you’d be getting in with me or I’d have brought the car.”

“It’s no trouble.”

Especially no trouble for him since he got a glimpse of her spectacular thighs. Jesus, he’d have to focus on something else so he wouldn’t sprout a hard-on. Now that really would be unprofessional.