Sultry in Stilettos Read online

  His brain kept stuttering over the ‘now whats?’ and the ‘what nows?’ He tried some of that Zen breathing crap Ricca always suggested, trying to force his brain to focus on the moment, before she woke up and he had to deal with the eventual consequences of that one kiss.

  He tucked her in against him and squeezed tight. All he wanted to do was hold onto her forever. Forever. Just the word itself had him cringing and his feet itching to run. But Ricca was different. She understood him. Always had. She was the one woman he could change for.

  As he drifted off to sleep, he wondered where they could go from here.

  Chapter Fifteen

  It wasn’t exactly like she’d run away. Okay maybe a little. As Ricca took the back stairs up to Fantasies, she leaned against the railing for support. Like a coward, she’d run from Beckett. And now, she was killing herself taking the stairs just so she could avoid running into him in the elevator, on the off chance he arrived at work early.

  Her phone buzzed again. Another text. From Beckett. She snatched the phone out of her purse and glanced at it. We need to talk.

  Shit. All his texts had said something like that.

  “I guess someone’s tired of waiting,” she mumbled to herself as she rounded onto the ninth floor.

  She’d woken to Beckett wrapped around her like a cocoon, and for several decedent moments of bliss, she’d relished being in his arms. But then her brain had started to work, and she realized that what was in store for her was either a totally awkward morning-after conversation or an empty bed with Beckett’s side cold. To her knowledge, he’d never stayed with anyone he’d slept with. Not once. So she’d made the only decision she could—she ran to Micha’s.

  Jaya would have taken Ricca in, but it would have put Jaya in the awkward position of having to put Beckett off when he called. Ricca dragged in a breath. One of these days she’d stop running from her problems. But that day is not today.

  Cranking open the door to the eleventh floor, she checked the hallway. To make sure her heels didn’t make a sound, she carried them. She took the path with the tall cubes down by the kitchen. She was short enough that she couldn’t be seen over the tops.

  Having learned her lesson, she peaked into her office window before going in. She couldn’t deal if he was waiting for her again.

  “Oh, thank God,” she mumbled when she finally made it to her office and locked the door behind her. The way she figured it, she’d be better equipped to deal with Beckett after today. She’d had some time to think about what to say to him. And so far she hadn’t come up with anything good, but she was sure she would.

  Her bunched muscles finally started to relax once she got into her work day a little. She had two fantasies coming up this week that she had to put finishing touches on. A rattling sound in her closet startled her. “What the hell?”

  Frowning, she went over to the spacious closet and checked it. In the darkness, she didn’t see anything until the far wall started to rattle again, then she caught the light gleaming off the metal door knob. Shit. She’d forgotten that this building was a former hotel. When the builders had renovated it, they’d left some of the doors as connectors. She and Beckett had one of those doors between their offices

  When the door to his office jerked open, she stumbled back several feet. “Damn it, Beckett, you scared the hell out of me.”

  He scowled as he came through the closet and occupied the archway. “You want to tell me what the hell went wrong on Saturday? I’ve been going nuts trying to figure out how to fix it.”

  What to say, what to say. She couldn’t very well say, I’m terrified that if I get too close, you’ll break my heart just like your brother did. So instead she said, “I don’t know. I just needed a day or two to wrap my head around—everything.”

  “Damn it, Ricca, I need you to talk to me. Say something. Tell me you regret it. Tell me you never want to see me again. Tell me you would rather have slept with Carter. Actually no, don’t tell me that. But for fuck’s sake, tell me something.”

  She backed away. “Beckett, I’m sorry. I didn’t want to wake up to find you gone, and then I didn’t want it to be awkward, and then I had no idea what to say, so I took a minute to try and get my bearings.”

  His eyebrows shot up. “And?”

  “I don’t know what to do. I’ve never—”

  He strode toward her. “I don’t know what to say either. But we have to figure this out together. You and me. You can’t run from me. It won’t work. I’m too stubborn to just let you walk away without a conversation.”

  She squared her shoulders. “Yeah, I’ve noticed.”

  His gaze skipped over her body. “You look pretty today.”

  She glanced down at the lilac Pucci dress. “Thank you.” Her skin warmed under his intense scrutiny.

  “Ricca, look at me please.”

  She tipped her head up to meet his gaze. “Yeah?”

  “I wanted to wake up next to you. We’ll figure this out, I promise. No matter what, I won’t let this mess with us, okay?”

  She nodded, and he took another step into her space. Heat sizzled under her skin. “Beckett, what are you doing?”

  “What I wanted to do yesterday morning.”

  He drew her up against him into a kiss so soft she wondered if it was real. Her response was immediate. Her knees went wobbly, and the muscles in her core contracted. She wanted him, even now. Reaching up, she wove her hands into his hair, and he deepened the kiss. As his tongue delved into her mouth, his erection hardened against her belly.

  Ricca clamped her thighs together when she felt the damp warmth in her panties. God, what he could do to her with a simple kiss.

  All she’d thought about the whole time at Micha’s was how his hands had felt on her body. How he’d used his tongue to stroke her to orgasm not once, but twice. How he’d taken the time to explore her body and find the hidden spots to make her melt.

  He drew back. “Ricca, shit, I—”

  Even though she knew she shouldn’t, she couldn’t help herself. He made her feel wanton, and sexy, and daring. She reached between them and wrapped her fingers around the rigid length of his erection.

  He groaned, and his hips jerked. “Ricca, what are you—”

  “I’m seizing the day.” She stroked again, and his eyes squeezed shut.

  “Ricca, you do that again, and I’m going to fuck you right here in your office. Is that something you want?”

  She met his gaze. “Maybe,” she breathed.

  His gaze flew to her door. “I’d almost think you planned this,” he chuckled.

  She pulled at his shirt.

  He dragged her toward the closet. He yanked his connecting door shut, then slid his hands down her arms, intertwining their fingertips. “Brace your hands on the door.”

  She shook as she complied. “Beckett, what are you doing?”

  “You’ll figure it out soon enough.”

  He shifted behind her and kissed the nape of her neck. His broad hands stroked her hair as he exposed her shoulder. “You are so sexy. This color suits you.”

  Everywhere he touched her, he left a path of shivering temptation. Desire skipped across her nerve endings, and heat pooled in her core. She needed him. “Beckett, please.”

  When he started to slide the fabric of her dress up, her breath hitched, and zings of desire pierced her. His hands caressed her ass, and his fingers hooked into her thong and dragged it aside. He stroked her exposed flesh, and she bit back a moan.

  “No. Ricca, I want you to tell me that you like what I’m doing. I want to hear it.”

  “Beckett. Someone will hear us.”

  He inserted a finger into her slick, damp heat, and she let her head fall back.

  “You do have a point. You’ll get a pass this time, but I want to hear you tell me how much you want me. Maybe tonight. Maybe before then, like at lunch time. I want to take you home so you can be as loud as you want.”

  Anything. Whatever he wa
nted, she’d give it to him. Anything. She just wanted the deep aching to stop. "Okay. Just…I need you now.”

  “And next time, you won’t run. I’ll just come find you again.”

  “N-No. Beckett, please.”

  He chuckled. “What the lady wants, the lady gets.”

  He kneeled behind her and placed feather light kisses on the backs of her thighs. Her legs quivered, and he steadied her with his hands on her hips. When he canted her hips up and ran his tongue from her damp center to her clit, she did cry out. “Oh, Beckett.”

  She heard foil ripping, then the jingle-jangle of his metal belt buckle. All the while, his tongue took her to the edge of oblivion.

  He stopped his ministrations, and she cried out, missing his warmth. He parted her thighs, and she automatically widened her stance. He filled her with one fluid stroke, and her eyes fluttered shut in bliss.

  “Jesus, Ree, you are so tight.” He retreated an inch, then slid back in. Retreated two inches, then surged in to the hilt. He slid his hands around the flat planes of her belly, then down to her clit. Tracing slow circles in time with his thrusts. It didn’t take much before the torrent of pleasure started from her toes and rocketed through her body.

  The moment she started to crest, he increased his pace, sliding home over and over again, until he tensed behind her and roared, muffling his shout in her neck. Unable to hold her weight any longer, Ricca’s knees gave out.

  Beckett caught her. “I swear, Ricca, you’re going to be the death of me.”

  Maybe, but what would he do to her heart?

  Chapter Sixteen

  “Beckett, you have a visitor downstairs in the lobby.”

  Beckett’s head snapped up to look at Emily. "Who is it?" He’d been lost in the memory of what he and Ricca had done in her office this morning. His whole body went rigid just thinking about it.

  Emily shook her head. “Your dad and your brother. Front lobby just called it up. Want me to tell them that you’re not in? I know that you’re still recuperating and stuff."

  There it was again—the pity he'd been getting from everyone in the office. All the women had been fawning over him like he was a broken dove or something. The guys, on the other hand, were circling like vultures. Like they'd been hoping he wouldn’t be back so soon after the accident. Too bad suckers. I'm not going anywhere.

  "Can you do me a solid and let the team know I'll be about fifteen minutes late. Oh and if you can make sure Angel transfers any of the remaining files regarding Lila’s fantasy to me and Ricca, that would be great." He hadn't spoken with Angel since she'd shown up at his place the other night. He’d have to deal with her sooner rather than later though. Knowing Ricca, she wouldn’t want gossip all over the office about them. Angel didn't have much to go on, but at the end of the day, she could speculate, and he and Ricca didn't need that kind of headache with everything else.

  When Beckett walked by Ricca's office, she wasn’t inside. Maybe she was at her meeting with Lila by now. She'd said something about connecting with her for the planning of Roberto’s next Fantasy.

  He wasn’t a fan of how easily Ricca dominated space in his brain now. It had been bad enough when he’d only obsessed about her fantasy basketball league plays and what ridiculous thing he could do or say to make her laugh. But now that he’d touched her, being with her again was all he could think about.

  Taking the elevator, he stretched out a little. They'd been all over each other, and frankly he was exhausted. Though more than happy to do it again.

  When the doors parted, his father waited for him in the lobby. The one person he would rather not be dealing with, lounging in the lobby as if he belonged there. Beckett set his jaw and strode over, anxious to get the old man out of sight and out of mind.

  "Dad, what are you doing here?" Beckett did a quick scan of the lobby and saw Braedon in one of the leather lobby chairs. His bother shrugged and mouthed, I’m sorry. Damn, would a warning phone call have been too much to ask for?

  "Beckett, would you believe I came to check on you, since you wouldn't return my calls? When your office said you were injured, I tried to reach you."

  First of all, Pops wasn’t on Beckett’s next of kin phone tree; it was Ricca first, then her mother, then his brother. Never the old man. His father had made it clear years ago that if Beckett wasn’t going to do as he was told then he might as well consider himself an orphan. So if his office hadn’t called Dear Old Dad, that meant the old man had found out about the accident from Braedon.

  "Maybe you don’t understand the concept, Dad. You having your assistant call me, and you calling me yourself, are two totally different things." He clamped his lips together. Just find out what he wants and get back to work. You don’t have time to fool around. From the corner of his eye, Beckett saw Carter walk in. Carter looked a little surprised to see him, but nevertheless gave him a nod.

  "Well, Dad, you've seen me. I'm obviously fine. Sorry to disappoint. Now what are you doing here? If you wanted to check on me, you would have called me yourself. And if my lawyer didn't call, letting me know you've stopped contesting my trust, then that means you’re here for something else."

  His father frowned. “I’ll stop contesting your trust just as soon as you grow up.”

  Beckett shook his head. “You’ll never get it, will you? I’m trying to do some good with that money. You know what though? I don’t need anything from you. Burn it all, if you must. I’m not interested in what you have to say.”

  “Beckett, this is your legacy. You can’t just keep playing your whole life. You have a fucking law degree from Stanford, but instead you’re here, doing what? Playing cops and robbers? That’s not a job. That’s a vacation.”

  “If you’re here to convince me to join the firm, you’re doing a stellar job.” Beckett’s heart raced as his anger simmered, and he forced himself to lower his voice. “Not going to happen, Dad. I’m sorry you wasted your time."

  His father's face turned two different shades of red. "Why are you being so stubborn?"

  "I could ask you the same thing. You have never been interested in me. You think I'm the family screw up. Why you're so desperate to have me at the firm is really beyond me. I'd think you would be happy that I was out of your hair." Beckett folded his arms and rocked back on his heels. "Dad, all I want is to renovate that building. That’s it." He was so damn tired of fighting with the old man. He’d spent a lifetime trying to justify who he was, and in that moment, he realized his father would never understand.

  Over his father’s shoulder, Beckett saw Ricca coming in with a stack of folders and a cake box on top. Of course. Someone’s birthday. Though, from the looks of it, she'd bought a cake this time instead of making one from scratch. Besides, they'd been in bed till six. There’s no way she could have baked and still made her eight o’clock appointment with Lila.

  A moment of pure panic and anger sliced through Beckett as Braedon made a beeline for Ricca. Beckett’s heart squeezed as time slowed. Beckett tried to focus on what his father was saying, but his eyes were glued to the potential melodrama. Braedon reached her in a few short steps, and her expression said it all. First her eyes widened with surprise, then anger and annoyance warred for second.

  Braedon put his arm on her shoulder, and she shook it off. When Rica narrowed her eyes, and her lips moved rapidly, Beckett couldn’t stand and watch any longer. The urge to kill his brother was too strong. "I have to go, Dad. Sorry you came all this way. But no matter what Braedon told you, I’m not coming back to the fold."

  "Beckett!"

  He ignored his father and went to help Ricca, even though he could hear the old man calling his name. "Everything okay over here?"

  Her gaze snapped to his. Fury. Oh hell, she thought he deliberately hadn’t told her Braedon was going to be here.

  “I’m fine. But if you could tell your asshole of a brother to not touch me, that would be awesome.”

  Beckett stepped between her and Braedon, and Braedo
n stuffed his hands in the pockets of his slacks, rolling back on his heels. “Stay out of it, baby brother. Ricca and I need to talk some things out. She doesn’t need her protector.”

  Beckett shook his head. “Back off, Braedon. This isn’t the time or the place for any kind of conversation.” Without looking at Ricca, he added, “Ricca, why don’t you head upstairs? I’ll catch up with you later.”

  She tried to step around the two of them when Braedon said, “Ricca, wait. I just want to talk to you. Maybe dinner. Coffee. Shoot, I’ll come meet you in your office. Can I call you?” He pursed his lips and rolled his eyes when he glanced at Beckett. “Look. I’d rather talk in private, but if you want to know the truth…Shit, I’ve missed you. I just want a chance to talk.”

  Ricca glared at Braedon with her chin tipped up. “Yeah well, the feeling isn’t exactly mutual.” She tried to step around him again, and again, he blocked her path.

  Fury pouring through him, Beckett plastered a hand on his brother’s chest. “That’s enough, Braedon. She clearly doesn’t want to talk to you.”

  Braedon shoved his hand off. “Who the fuck are you, her keeper? This is none of your fucking business.”

  Braedon reached out to take Ricca’s arm again, and Beckett knocked it aside. “She is my business.” He dropped his voice to a low growl. “Braedon, I’m not shitting you. If you put your hands on her again, I’ll fucking kill you.”

  Ricca snatched her arm out of Braedon’s grasp and scooted out of the middle of the fray. “Beckett it’s okay, let’s just head upstairs.”

  Braedon scowled, then narrowed his eyes to stare first at Ricca, then back at Beckett. His face turned beet red. He didn’t speak for several moments, but when he did, fury and disdain tinged every low-toned word. “You’re fucking sleeping with her. You know how I feel about her, and you’re fucking sleeping with her.”

  “You mean how you loved her so much you systematically slept with every woman you came across? I know where the fucking bodies are buried, Brae—”