Dirty Deal (Perfectly Matched 2)

He pounded his cock into her, increasing the pressure of his fingers. Her legs shook from the tension, and her breath came fast. She froze, and then all hell broke loose.

“Ahh, fuck yeah,” she cried out, her pussy gripping his dick as she came.

All thoughts of silence fled as his own orgasm slammed through him. Hot liquid pulsed from his swollen cock, and he shouted, oblivious to their surroundings now. Intense waves of pleasure crashed over him, rocking him on his heels. Serena would have none of it, as she pushed back against him, making sure he stayed deep inside her until he was drained.

He collapsed against her, folding his torso against her back, heart still jackhammering against his ribs, with only one thought in his head, and that was how to get her to do that with him again…

And soon.

…

Five minutes. Less, maybe, and Dr. Bryan Metcalf had wrecked her. Now, as her body cooled and the adrenaline faded, she didn’t have a single clue how to handle it.

She’d had her share of one-night stands in the past, but always at the guy’s house because it allowed for a quick and easy getaway. There was a comfort in being able to slip out with your panties and dignity in the wee hours of the morning. No good-byes, no small talk.

But she hadn’t thought this out and now here she was with her new…business associate, half naked and stranded without her car on the sandy shoreline.

He’d just pulled away and finished dealing with the condom when she finally found her voice to speak.

“Well, um, that was really nice, Doc,” she said, wishing she sounded a little less breathless.

“Agreed,” he said, a slow grin splitting his handsome face. His gaze drifted lower and she suddenly she felt exposed and weirdly…vulnerable. Nudity had never bothered her before, but then again, they were on a public beach. It only made sense she felt that way. It had nothing to do with Bryan and everything to do with the circumstances. She slipped her dress back on as he buttoned his shirt and fastened his pants, and the world shifted back on its axis.

This was how they would be seeing each other for the next few weeks or so. Fully dressed, which was good. Far less tempting. And now that she’d seen everything else he had to offer, her curiosity was satisfied, which meant they could both move on.

Professionally.

He was staring at her, and she tried desperately to remember what they’d been saying.

Right. Leaving.

“So, yeah. Let’s call it a night. I’ve got…some things to do tomorrow anyway,” she hedged, wondering if it would be weird to just phone for a cab rather than suffer the awkwardness of riding with him in the limo now.

He gave her a wry smile. “Isn’t that supposed to be my line?”

“Nice to be on the same page with someone for once, am I right?” she said, forcing a grin in return. For all the discussion about their mutual distaste of relationships beforehand, she’d expected to feel a lot less awkward after the fact. She only hoped that faded before they saw each again in an entirely different capacity.

The only thing that should matter was they’d enjoyed each other’s company and were both getting what they wanted: the ability to walk away entirely satisfied and free of guilt.

She slipped on her shoes, and he steadied her with a gentle hand on her shoulder.

“I’ll call you in the next couple of days for details.”

“Details?” he asked.

“For the events. And for the photo shoots and stuff. We’ll draw up a contract,” she nodded. “Or Grace will.”

“Right, sounds good.”

He led her back into the restaurant in silence, and she gathered up her purse while he spoke to the waiter and dealt with the bill. On the ride home, she made small talk so he would see she wasn’t just saying she was cool with this being a one-night hookup, and that she was actually cool with it, but it all felt a little forced.

By the time they pulled up to her door, she was ready to dive headfirst out of the moving car.

“So, thanks for the lovely evening.” She pushed open the door and swung her legs out of the limo, holding up a hand to keep him in place. “No need to walk me in, I’m good.”

He seemed like he wanted to argue but then gave her a reluctant nod. “At least flash the lights when you get in safe, okay?”

She popped off a snappy salute and wheeled around to get the hell out of Dodge. She was halfway up the stairs before she turned back, motioning for him to lower the window.

“Can we, uh, keep this between us? The last thing we need is Grace getting wind of what happened. She’ll be all over me about it.”

A smile tugged at his sexy lips, and he mimicked her salute. “Roger that.”

She jogged lightly up the remaining steps and tried hard not to glance over her shoulder to see if he was staring after her. Unlikely. When she’d told him the sex was a onetime thing, he didn’t even have the hangdog expression some guys got. He was, for lack of a better word, completely chill with it.

Weird. But in a good way, she told herself, pushing back the twinge of…something she felt when she thought of how normal he’d seemed after the fact. Because what she’d said to him was true. For all intents and purposes, tonight had never happened. When she saw him again, it would be as though they’d rubbed elbows instead of bumping uglies.

She closed the door behind her, stepped into the cavernous foyer of her family home, and shivered. Wrapping her arms around herself, she kicked off her heels, making a mental note to turn down the air-conditioning and open the windows before she got into bed. She flipped on the lights and made her way to her bedroom, catching a glimpse of herself in the mirror.

Her mother would be horrified. Her hair was a wreck, her dress was still damp and covered in sand, and she was rocking a little potbelly from all the food she’d scarfed down at dinner.

By tomorrow, though, all those reminders of her night with Bryan would be gone.

Why that thought didn’t cheer her in the least, she couldn’t say.

Chapter Five

“If you don’t quit messing with the props, you’re going to break something, and François is going to be pissed.” Grace snatched a rubber chicken from Serena’s hands and looked into the bird’s expressionless eyes. “Although why this is here, I haven’t the faintest idea.”

“I think it totally works. We could be like, ‘Don’t be a chickenshit, let Love Will Find a Way pick a match for you today!’” Serena said in her best commercial voice before grabbing the prop and tossing it back into the bucket of other, equally strange items that

sat beside the shooting stage.

“Please, don’t mess with the art.” The photographer sniffed and adjusted his lens for the seventh time. His French accent was so bad that he must have picked it up from a daytime soap opera, and his crappy, condescending attitude grated on her, but it wasn’t worth arguing with him over. She had more important things on her mind, like Dr. Bryan “I’m too cool to show up on time” Metcalf.

She was usually the one behind schedule, but today she’d been a few minutes early. Granted, that was only because she and Grace had come over together from the office, but still. She was here and ready to go. Too bad the same couldn’t be said of their model. Surely all those years in the army should have taught him punctuality, but he was already ten minutes late for the photo shoot.

Maybe he’d decided to bail after all.

She hadn’t heard from him at all in the three days since their “forgotten” night on the beach. Apparently, he’d taken her words to heart. All the arrangements for today’s shoot had been made through Grace. Hell, the one time he’d called the office and she’d answered the phone, he asked to speak to Grace after barely offering a quick hello. He was polite, but not at all needy or clingy or any of the stuff she hated.

That was a good thing, she reminded herself.

What wasn’t a good thing was the fact that they would have blown a grand on this studio session if he didn’t bother to show.

She twirled the giant pinwheel that was sticking out of the prop bin and Grace slapped her hand.

“Seriously? François is going to yell at you again, you know. It’s like you’re baiting him on purpose. What’s gotten into you?”

“Nothing.” Serena stalked toward the little tray of food François’s assistant had set out and noshed on a celery stick. “Hungry, I guess,” she said.

Grace glanced toward her watch and then the door. Apparently, Serena’s reply was enough to satisfy her curiosity because she was on to a whole new subject within seconds. “He’s late, but he did say he was coming. He texted me a couple minutes ago.”