The Negotiator (Harbor City 1)

She pressed both palms to his chest and shoved. “Control isn’t up for negotiation.”

Pants and underwear twisted around his ankles, he stumbled back a step and took her down to the floor with him. They ended up in a tangle of limbs with her sitting astride him, the stiff length of him pressed against her slick folds. She rocked against him, sliding up and down the underside of his cock, the tip of him bumping against her clit on every return trip, making her core clench. Jesus. She closed her eyes and threw back her head, concentrating on the pleasure because she couldn’t let herself connect the overwhelming sensation to the man or she might just lose herself to it and to him.

He brought his hands to her hips, his fingers squeezing her flesh and slowing the rhythm. Following his lead was a temptation she couldn’t surrender to. He’d take her, make her want more, make her want him. Looking down, she gazed at his still buttoned up shirt straining against his wide chest, the loosened tie wrinkled from where she’d grabbed it, and the glasses that sat askew on his face that did nothing to hide the desire turning his hazel eyes dark and almost gave in despite knowing what a mistake it would be.

Stilling on top of him, she pulled back from the edge. “Hands above your head.”

“Are you fucking kidding?”

Part of her was asking the same thing. “Not in the least.”

“What?” He snorted. “You want me to just lie here and be your breathing dildo?”

Like what she really wanted was something she wanted to figure out right now. “Sounds like a beautiful plan to me.”

They stared are each other, neither moving. The pang of discomfort made itself known in her knees where they pressed against the hard tile floor. Tomorrow, there might be bruises. She didn’t care. The really important thing was winning this negotiation. Discomfort was beginning to build to a throb when he lifted his finger from her hip, then another, and another. Only once both of his arms were raised above his head, one hand laying on top of the other, did she reach over, grab her purse off the floor and dump out the contents. There in the pile of lipstick, emergency eyeliner, her wallet, and her phone was the one item she wanted right now—a condom. She picked it up and tore it open with her teeth.

Watching him, his jaw as hard as the rest of him, she lifted her hips and rolled the condom over him. He closed his eyes and took in a shaky breath, and her heart shifted. God, even in a pseudo-submissive posture like this he was dangerous. Damn it, she could not go there. Not with him. She hadn’t been lying. She needed him out of her system before it was too late. A month, that’s all the time it had been and yet it felt like so much longer. Forget dangerous, he was fucking deadly.

“No kissing,” she said, desperate for rules, for boundaries.

He opened his eyes, and one eyebrow arched over the edge of his cock-eyed glasses. “Whatever you say, boss.”

The little reminder of the true nature of their relationship and the fifteen-thousand-dollar check waiting for her at the end of it slapped a piece of reality into the middle of her lust-fogged brain. Yeah, that was the other part of the equation. Four weeks had passed. Only two weeks and a few days to go and then she’d be gone. Before the implications could settle in, she lowered herself down on him, going against her own proffered directions and taking it slow, inch by inch until he filled her completely.

Sawyer fisted his hands and squeezed his eyes shut, but otherwise didn’t move. For a second, she couldn’t. All she could take in was the feeling of having him inside her. Biting down on her bottom lip so she’d keep her mouth shut and stick to the script she’d written herself, she undulated her hips as she lifted herself up and down on him. Pleasure slid through her with every rub of his cock against her G-spot and she made her moves languid and smooth despite her

intentions. Sawyer lay beneath her taking it, letting her set the pace, make the demands. If he wanted, he could flip them both over and change the power dynamic, but for whatever reason he didn’t. Instead, he watched her and answered her every downward glide with an unhurried upward thrust of his own, making sure he reached every part of her he could in his position.

The lace of her bra scratched against her hard nipples, but there was nothing she could do to relieve the ache in her breasts. Like Sawyer, she was still fully dressed from the waist up. Hell, she still had her shoes on. It was supposed to make the whole thing between them less personal, more of an uncomplicated need being met than any kind of meaningful connection, but all the addition of clothing did was make it even more obvious that she wanted him. The fact that she was leaving in a few weeks didn’t matter, she’d started to fall for him. It was like a rock had been pushed off a cliff, it was rolling downhill and nothing—not time or the reality of the situation—was going to stop it. All she could do was hope it didn’t obliterate her when it hit.

Sawyer let out a half tortured, half blissed-out moan. “You go any slower and you’ll break your own rules.”

“Is that a complaint?” she asked, coming down hard and leaning forward so her mouth was right above his, the temptation to break another of her rules drawing her there.

“I’d never do that while buried inside you.” He brought his head up an inch or two off the floor, obviously expecting her to meet him halfway.

The last vestiges of her survival instincts flared to life. He could expect all he wanted. “Then shut up.”

Unfazed, he smirked. “You got it, Clover.”

The use of her name snapped something. She could feel the tears building along with her orgasm, which one came first was up to her and she wasn’t about to let it be the tears. So she arched her spine and leaned back, bracing her hands against his muscular thighs, digging her fingernails into him, and rode him hard and fast. His hands came down from above his head and he cupped her ass, driving her against him until they were a blur of motion and the sounds of their bodies coming together filled the hallway. It started in her core, as the head of his cock repeatedly rubbed against the bundle of nerves inside her opening with each stroke and grew outward until her entire body vibrated with sensation almost too pleasurable to be good. Right when she was at the edge of too much, it exploded and her orgasm electrified her, locking up her muscles and making her body one unyielding line.

Sawyer’s fingers bit into her and he slammed her body down onto his one last time before coming with a harsh groan. They stayed like that for a moment, breathing hard with their bodies intertwined as if what had been before and what would come after didn’t matter—only now did.

The buzz of her phone vibrating against the tile floor in the middle of the mess of her spilled purse brought her out of that bit of fantasy. Glancing down at it as she climbed off Sawyer; it took a second for the words of the text on her screen to make sense.

Mom: At the hospital with your dad. We think it’s his heart again. Please call home.

She felt dizzy, the blood draining from her face.

“Clover, what’s wrong?” Sawyer asked, concern etched in his voice.

Panic pinched her lungs until she could barely take in a breath as she read the text a second and third time with disbelieving eyes. When the last ghost of denial faded away, she fought to keep the floor beneath her. Her hands shook as she grabbed the phone and it took two tries before she hit the right name on her contacts list. Listening to it ring and ring, she pulled her skirt down and shoved everything back into her purse.

“Hey there,” her mom’s voicemail greeting started. “Sorry I missed your call, leave a message and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can.”

“Mom, it’s Jane. I just got your message. I’m on my way to the hospital now. Call me as soon as you can and let me know what’s going on.” She hit the end call button and hurried to her room.