Hot Shots 1: Test Shot Page 5

  “I’m just not sure.” Her protestations weakened with each brutal caress of his hand as he moved it back and forth over her aroused flesh. “There has to be someone else we can ask.”

  “Who?”

  She closed her eyes. “I don’t know.”

  “When were you to meet with him next? Tomorrow?”

  “No. Tuesday.”

  “Cancel that appointment and invite him for dinner next Friday night. Say your schedule’s just too full to accommodate him any sooner, but you want to meet with him.”

  She glanced away, well aware that her face was still burning. “He’ll know something’s up.”

  “If the idea disturbs him, he won’t come.”

  “Then what?”

  “He won’t say no.” He skated his hand down the curve of her leg. “Do you not find him attractive? Is that where your hesitation comes from?”

  She let out a snort. “You looked at his pictures. He’s fucking delicious.”

  Something passed through his gaze, an expression she couldn’t read. “He’s a free agent right now. While he’s free, take the chance that’s presented itself. Worry about business once you’ve had your pleasure.”

  He nudged her off his lap. Clearly, he’d forgotten all about her blowjob offer. Just as well, because she could barely breathe right now, never mind suck. “Finish your dinner. After that, we’ll call Sawyer.”

  She made herself take her seat across the table from him. “We’ll call him?”

  “You’ll call. I’ll sit next to you and whisper naughty things in your ear.” He picked up his fork, his appetite obviously restored. “Okay?”

  If she went through with this, she wouldn’t play games. Somehow, some way, she’d spell out what Sawyer was in for if he crossed her threshold next Friday night. And if he thought she was some sort of weirdo, at least she could comfort herself with her honesty.

  “Okay,” she whispered.

  * * * *

  Sawyer sat down at the tiny folding table on his tiny balcony, the plate he’d filled with two turkey hot dogs and soy chips not nearly as appealing as the images stuck on auto-rewind behind his eyes.

  He hadn’t stopped thinking of Layla all afternoon, and he’d be damned if he knew why.

  She was attractive, yes. Friendly enough. Seemed fairly smart. But she wasn’t a knockout like Manda. Yet he’d forgotten all about the other junior agent as soon as he’d walked out of the office.

  Chemistry was hard to explain, and it had been a while since pheromones had knocked him on his ass. Too bad that the woman who’d clubbed him harder than he’d been hit in a long time just happened to be engaged.

  With a whistle for his suddenly missing dog, Greta, he picked up his hot dog and bit in. The wince came automatically. Though he’d sold himself to Layla as a guy who never counted calories, that was a lie. A man who made his living off his body had to be mindful of what he put in it. Or to his way of thinking, alternate the good with the bad. That meant tonight he’d make up for lunch.

  He reached for his bottle of Harp to wash it down and grinned. Partially anyway.

  His cell buzzed at his hip, and he winced again as he set down his hot dog. Man, couldn’t he catch a break? First Greta had probably disappeared to yack up a bone in the bedroom closet, and now he had to deal with—he flipped out his phone and scowled at the readout in the fading sunlight—Layla.

  Well then. Not what he’d expected at all.

  “Didja miss me already?”

  She didn’t laugh or halfheartedly scold him for his lack of a professional greeting. Why he’d expected either of those responses, he wasn’t sure. They didn’t know each other, even if he felt, inexplicably, as if they did. “I’m sorry to be calling you in the evening again.”

  Tension oozed from her voice. Hmm. “I’m a night owl. Won’t be hitting the sheets for hours and hours yet. You’re good. So what’s up?”

  “I’m not interrupting anything? We can speak later if it would be better for you.”

  “Just eating dinner. No problem. What’s up?” he repeated, surprisingly dismayed by the thread of nerves in her tone.

  Why did it matter if she was worried or upset? She was a stranger. He’d be concerned about anyone but not to this extent. His chest actually tightened as he waited for her to speak.

  “I…God, I’ve never done anything like this before.”

  “Just go ahead and say what’s on your mind. I can take it.”

  “I’m not certain I can.” She let out an unsteady laugh. “Look, can I speak frankly? If you want to hang up on me or never take another of my calls, I understand.”

  “That’s not going to happen, Layla.” He made his voice soothing to contrast with the high-pitched level of hers. “I’m listening. Go on.”

  “Well, ah, I felt a connection with you. Your pictures drew me in. I wanted to sign you for the agency, I think you can do great work for us, but there’s more to it. At least I felt…something.”

  “I did too.” He gave a short laugh and raked his fingers through his hair. “It’s fucking weird is what it is. But you’re almost married.”

  “Yes, I’m engaged, but—”

  Would she just spit it out already? “What?”

  “My fiancé and I are looking for a third.”

  “A third what?” he asked, then fell silent as realization dawned.

  No fucking way. Sweet, wholesome-looking, fresh-scrubbed Layla did not just ask him to be a third with her and another guy. The guy she intended to marry. Forever and ever I do.

  And I’ll do you too.

  “Christ, you’re serious?”

  “I know it seems strange,” she said hastily, her anxiety practically pouring over the phone line. “The idea that I’d entertain doing this when you’re considering signing me as your agent is beyond unprofessional. It’s probably immoral. Could even be criminal.”

  He had to laugh. Talk about judge, jury, and executioner all in one. “Easy. The operative word is considering. Neither of us has signed anything. If we, uh, pursued something, I could just as easily sign with Manda.” At her silence, he scratched the back of his neck. “Or Con or Drew. Assuming they’d be interested in me. You haven’t even given me the company spiel yet. We need to talk percentages and all the other standard legalese. Plus I need to know who some of your clients are so I can discuss their experiences with them. There are a lot of things I need to hear before I sign with you or anyone at Hot Shots.”

  “All reasonable requests.” She sighed. “I wasn’t thinking straight. I should’ve given you some materials to take home.”

  Materials. Like what? Book covers? Pictorial spreads? Pornos?

  “Look, the more I talk to you, the crazier this all sounds. Hormones aren’t an excuse to do insane things. Why don’t we just—”

  He heard a low male voice in the background. Her fiancé, no doubt. Encouraging her to keep talking? Or hang up?

  “No. Wait.” Sawyer rested his elbows on the table on either side of his plate and massaged his temple. “Let me think. This is all a shock.”

  “I know. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have called.”

  Her obvious misery stirred all his protective instincts. He couldn’t help wanting to make her feel better. He also couldn’t deny that his heart hadn’t stopped racing since she’d made her offer.

  “I think I’d like to hear more.”

  “No, I’m sure you don’t. This is nuts.” More scuffling. More whispering. Another sigh. “What do you want to know?”

  “Not over the phone. I need to see you. Talk to you.” Touch you. Except it wasn’t all about her and him. There was someone else involved in this scenario. “I need to meet your fiancé too. What’s his name again?” How the hell can he share you? Is he crazy?

  “Aidan McMurray. He’s a doctor, though he’s not practicing right now. We’ll need your discretion if we go any further with this.”

  This ranked as one of the oddest conversations he’d ever had, bar no
ne. And it wasn’t over yet. “I’d say discretion is the name of the game all around. We all have reputations to consider.” Which made even discussing this completely loco. But he was never a guy to go halfway. “So when can we meet in person?”

  “Are you free next Friday?”

  “A whole week away? Seriously? You expect me to sit on this that long?”

  He rolled his eyes as she again had a whispered conference with her point man. Or wing man. Hell if he knew the terminology for this kind of thing. “Okay, what about tomorrow night? Seven o’clock? I’ll make dinner,” she added.

  “Oh yay. Fried chicken and threesome sex. Sounds like my kind of evening.” Though she chuckled awkwardly, he wasn’t entirely sure he was kidding. But he also knew he would be there. “Seven it is. What’s the address?”

  She rattled off where she lived and then hesitated, the line filling with her soft, expectant breaths. “Sawyer, I really appreciate how cool you’re being about all this. If we talk tomorrow, and this doesn’t work out, there’ll be no hard feelings. At least from our side. We’re grateful that you’d consider the request because you’re honestly the only…”

  “What?” he demanded when she trailed off, his fingers tense around his cell.

  “You’re the only one I’d want to do this with.”

  Holy shit. His cock needed no further encouragement to press eagerly against the fly of his shorts.

  He shut his eyes and hoped to God he wasn’t making a colossal mistake. There were a lot of less problematic ways to get some.

  Nice try, Blake. As if he was only pursuing this because of sex. What else was fueling him, he wasn’t sure. But there was more.

  More to Layla. More to this situation. Just more.

  “I’ll see you both at seven tomorrow evening, Layla.”

  “Okay.” With one more whispered thank you, she hung up.

  * * * *

  Aidan watched Layla bustle around the next night, her mind seemingly more on the porterhouse steaks, baked potatoes, and green beans she was making for dinner than what would come after. Though he didn’t particularly think Sawyer would care that much about red meat in light of what loomed ahead, she was adamant he would want something hearty. How she knew that about a man she’d just met he didn’t know, but it only reaffirmed they’d made the right choice. Assuming Sawyer followed through, they were well on their way to taking a huge step.

  He just hoped that step turned out to be a good one.

  “Stop fussing,” Aidan said from his location on the couch. “He won’t care if the magazines are perfectly fanned over the coffee table.”

  “I got some new ones today.” She rearranged them again and huffed out a breath. “Had too many fashion ones. So I picked up Architectural Digest and Better Homes and Gardens.”

  He had to smile. Only his Lala. “You really think Sawyer’s coming here to check out your magazines?”

  She blew a curl out of her face and popped to her feet, her eyes already alighting on the next thing she wanted to fiddle with. This time it was the knickknacks atop the fireplace mantel. “I want him to feel at home.”

  “Why?”

  “Because he’s doing us a favor.” She wiped her palms, likely damp, on the front of her jeans. The dress she planned to wear tonight still hung on the back of the closet door.

  “If he is, we’re doing him one, as well.” Aidan rose and walked over to her, drawing her back against him so he could run his lips along her hairline. “He gets to learn what it’s like to be inside of you. What more can any man ask for?”

  She shivered and squeezed her eyes shut. “I can’t believe we’re doing this. And with someone my bosses have already met! If this goes bad, they’ll probably fire me. They should. God. Who does this? We should’ve gone to a club, found someone there. Or just—”

  “Shelved the idea altogether?”

  She jerked a shoulder. “I don’t know. Maybe.”

  “Do you not feel like fucking him tonight?”

  Her cheeks went scarlet. “Jeez, Aidan.”

  He didn’t wait for her to stumble through an answer. Instead he undid her jeans and discovered she hadn’t worn panties. As usual. His lips curved as his fingers journeyed through sodden curls to the throbbing, swollen heart of her. “This says you do.” He gave her a proprietary stroke. “Stop thinking so much.”

  “I guess I’m not cut out to be a sexual adventuress.” She widened her stance, letting out a small cry when he slid his fingers along her seam. “You’re all I need. I’ll call him and tell him we changed our minds. Maybe he’ll even still come back to the agency. Then we can spend the night in bed.”

  The hope in her eyes as she looked back at him made him want to say yes. To agree to anything she asked. But he’d latched onto the idea of Sawyer like a man dying of thirst would throw himself at a well of water. If this worked, Sawyer would provide her with all the physical pleasure she could stand. And he could still keep her heart.

  It was selfish, undoubtedly. A plan doomed to fail. How long could he keep this charade going? But he still had faith that he could wait out the texts he wouldn’t acknowledge from a person who mattered too much. Then he and Layla could go on.

  All he wanted was to go on.

  He turned his face against her neck, still caressing her pussy. But the touches were for him now. He needed her soft warmth in his arms and the bite of her nails digging into his hand. That was reality. Anything else belonged in the past.

  She had no idea how much he needed her to enjoy tonight. It had been so long since he’d made her happy. If he had to do it by proxy, by God he would.

  “He’s going to be here soon,” Aidan murmured. “Let’s see what happens, okay, sweetheart?”

  The only answer he received were her trembles as her body crested. A sharp moan spilled from her lips an instant before she twisted her head to crush her mouth onto his. Her arousal soaked his fingers while he moved them in and out, his tongue keeping time as it warred with hers.

  His cock twitched, his balls filling almost from habit. This had been all he’d known for what felt like a lifetime, and the safety and security she brought him offered an allure nothing else could. But even before she’d come down from her orgasm, his erection had begun to deflate.

  Of course.

  Before she realized, he drew his hand free of her jeans and lifted his fingers to her plump lips. He painted them with her wetness, leaning in for a quick nibble that made them both moan. “When he gets here,” he murmured, “I want you to kiss him hello.”

  There wasn’t time for her to argue. Footsteps sounded on the stoop right before the doorbell clanged.

  Showtime.

  “Go.” He brushed his damp finger along her throat and smiled at her shiver. She was still his. At least for now. “He’s waiting.”

  She nodded and hurried into the foyer, her new preoccupation the hair she’d yet to pin up. He preferred her to leave it down, but for some reason she thought she looked better with it restrained. Just as she believed she needed to wear a slinky dress to turn on Sawyer.

  Obviously, that was bullshit, judging from the slightly stricken expression the guy wore when she threw open the door.

  “Hi. Come on in.” She cast Aidan a quick glance, then leaned up on tiptoe to brush her lips over Sawyer’s. His body jerked, but he definitely didn’t move away. And if Aidan wasn’t mistaken, he licked his lips afterward.

  Aidan smiled. This would be an interesting evening indeed.

  Chapter Four

  Sawyer stayed on the stoop even after Layla moved back. His lips were still humming from the featherlight pressure of her kiss. It wasn’t a sensation he wanted to end anytime soon. Fact was, he wanted to haul her closer and kiss her for real. Tip her head back, dive inside that silky mouth, and taste more than the creamy hint of spice she’d teased him with.

  “Are you coming in?”

  “Yes.” Feeling like a chump, he glanced down at the fistful of flowers he clutched ag
ainst his hip. Who brought a woman flowers in a situation like this?

  He glanced at his other hand. Probably the same guy who brought the other spoke of their threesome a bottle of wine.

  She stepped forward and gasped. “You brought me wildflowers?”

  “It was an impulse buy,” he said, a little helplessly, as she encircled his wrist and pulled him inside. “As was the wine.”

  “They’re beautiful. Wine too? That’s so nice of you. Aidan, he brought us wine.”

  “So I heard.” Her fiancé crossed the room to take the bottle from Sawyer. Their fingers brushed, and Sawyer sucked in a breath at the intensity of Aidan’s expression.

  Damn, what kind of threesome was this? Did they think he was into guys too? If he signed on, he was interested in touching Layla—and only Layla.

  “Nice vintage,” Aidan said, extending his other hand to Sawyer. “Aidan McMurray. Thanks for coming over.”

  “Uh, no problem. I guess you know I’m Sawyer Blake.”

  “I do. By the way, darling, your jeans are still undone.” While Layla blushed and yanked up her zipper, Aidan assessed Sawyer. “The hand you just shook was in my fiancée’s pussy not ten minutes ago. Just so you know.”

  “Aidan!” Her shocked whisper made Sawyer laugh in spite of himself.

  Maybe he hadn’t been wrong to peg her as an innocent. At least not entirely wrong.

  “Thanks for the heads-up. So if I lick my fingers”—Sawyer lifted the hand he’d just had in Aidan’s to his mouth—“I’ll get a little myself.”

  Aidan smirked. “Oh, you already did. Didn’t her lips taste good?”

  This would definitely be a holy shit kind of night, Sawyer could already tell. Taking a deep breath, he hooked his fingers in Layla’s belt loops and tugged her closer. “I need a repeat to be sure.”

  He cruised his tongue along her lower lip while she moaned softly at the back of her throat. He gave the same attention to the upper, briefly dipping between them to tap the tip of her tongue with his own. The move was playful, a promise of things to come. But passion blossomed in her eyes, as bright as the flowers he shoved into her hands when he stepped back.

  “Mmm. Better than chocolate.”