Dirty Love Read online

  He kept his hair trimmed short, only about a quarter of an inch above his smooth scalp. The military style appeared to age some men. Not Trevor. Clean-shaven, he looked a decade younger than his forty-five years. His trim build and the effortless way his loose jeans hugged his lean hips added to the allure.

  It would have been so easy to give in to his smooth seduction, yet she'd resisted. For weeks, she'd been pushing him away, coming up with excuse after excuse not to invite him inside. Not to be alone with him.

  At the time, she'd convinced herself she was simply done with men. That ship had sailed, as her mother used to say. Society demanded she play the role of celibate spinster the day she turned forty, and she'd been happy enough to act the part.

  Hadn't she?

  Apparently not, judging by the way she'd practically thrown herself at Connor just minutes earlier.

  Every muscle in Isy's body tensed as she prepared to push Trevor away again. “I'm sorry, I really am. Maybe some other time.” She forced a smile, but she could feel her lower lip quiver. It wouldn't take a genius to figure out she was nervous, so she dropped the act. “I'm tired, and I still have testing to conduct tonight."

  "I see.” Trevor made no effort to hide the open interest that lit up his eyes. “Anyone promising?"

  She chalked it up to professional curiosity. “Perhaps. I'll let you know."

  He looked like he wanted to argue, but nodded instead. “Well, why don't you keep the food and flowers anyway? Think of me while you're eating.” He winked. “I'll think of eating you."

  Surprise jolted Isy's system into full awareness. “What did you say?"

  Heavy-lidded desire shadowed his pale blue eyes. “I said, I'll think of eating with you."

  He lifted the bag and the bouquet. She took them both. Her hand trembled and she thought about thrusting the gifts back at him, but knew that was another argument she wouldn't win. He'd brought her things before—a bottle of wine, a potted organic neon violet plant that still sat on her balcony. Each time she'd tried to refuse the generous presents, but he'd insisted.

  At this very moment, she lacked the energy to enter into another battle she'd lose. She wanted to skip the argument and get back inside. To safety. To Connor.

  Heat rushed into her face and a jolt of tumultuous arousal knotted in her stomach at the thought of the man waiting just behind the door.

  Trevor's eyes narrowed. He traced a path with his gaze from her flushed cheeks down her throat. She followed his assessing trail and noticed that the top two buttons of her silk shirt gaped open. The same fevered scarlet she was certain dotted her cheeks also tinted her chest. Her nipples beaded, tenting the material of her shirt, and to her embarrassment, the blazer, too.

  "Thanks for stopping by,” Isy said, before he could call her on her disheveled state. Reaching behind her, she unlatched the door and then slipped inside quickly, but not before she saw the blazing heat in his eyes, the burning flames unmasking every bit of his desire.

  The door clicked into place. She turned the lock with a sigh of relief. When she spun around, she collided with Connor's broad chest and gasped. The sudden contact made her want to throw the stuff in her hands on the floor and lose herself in the pleasure of Connor's touch.

  "Friend of yours?"

  She held up the bouquet and the food. “Colleague. He's a fertility practitioner as well. Works a few blocks down."

  "Awfully neighborly, isn't he?” Connor slanted a pointed glance at the flowers.

  Isy dropped them on the nearest surface, which happened to be a low children's play table. She hadn't seen a child inside the clinic in three years, but that didn't stop her from collecting toys and setting out books.

  "Trevor knew I was working late, and he wanted to make sure I had dinner."

  "You eat organic roses? That must cost a fortune."

  She scowled and placed the bag of Chinese food on the table beside the flowers. The savory aroma of dim sum wafted through the room. Connor could surely tell that Trevor had brought food, too, not just roses.

  She straightened to her full height and was about to deliver a pithy comeback when a thought struck. Was he jealous? God, was it possible?

  A zing of excitement created a low throb deep in her pussy. It had been so long since she'd let herself take pleasure in being wanted, and now, strangely, two men desired her.

  If only I could let you have me.

  A sigh of longing escaped her lips before she could stop it. Embarrassed, she turned toward the exam room door. “This way. We should get started."

  She pictured Connor smiling as he fell into step behind her, his delectable lips curved slightly, inviting her to lean in for another desperate kiss. It took all her self-control not to turn around and confirm her impression. It was bad enough her entire body practically thrummed with pent-up feverish arousal. She didn't need to do anything else to humiliate herself further.

  Her palm closed around the door handle. Shit. A twist of wariness coiled in her belly, triggering a ripple of uncertainty.

  What if humiliation was exactly what Connor intended? Maybe he had a bunch of buddies who waited back at the theater for him to regale them with stories of the pathetic old woman who couldn't keep from throwing herself at him.

  Shame and crushing disappointment washed over her. She'd been so stupid. Of course Connor wasn't interested in her as a woman. He'd said as much himself. This was research. And sure, he was known for writing a sappy play with a happy ending, but there was a first time for everything, wasn't there? His next play could just as well be about a pathetic older woman who ends up dying of a broken heart.

  Isy rushed into the room, leaned against the porcelain sink and turned on the tap. “Please sit."

  She couldn't face him. What would she say if she had to look into his startling, knowing eyes? How could she act like nothing had happened when they both understood just how foolish she'd been?

  Hell, for all she knew, Trevor probably had ulterior motives for toying with her, too. She had to be careful. One misstep, one bit of misplaced trust, and she'd be the one paying the price. Not them.

  She heard the standard-issue clinic bed creak beneath Connor's weight and she closed her eyes, trying not to imagine him draped across it naked.

  As though even her mind conspired against her, that's exactly what she pictured. Connor's body glistening in the pale overhead neon light that bathed the tiny room in its sterile glow. Except when it touched him, the harsh light wouldn't look nearly as jarring. It would make his gold-tinted skin shine and play over the curls on his chest, and through the dusting that led down the narrow trail of hair to his beautiful groin.

  And when it touched his cock, it would highlight the throbbing length of the shaft. The light itself would guide her, sliding like a tiny spotlight from his soft sac to the tip of his silky rod.

  Fuck. She was losing it. Fast. And she still had so much work to do. So much intimate, up-close-and-personal work.

  Her tongue swept out to lick her suddenly dry lips. She had to get herself under control sooner or later, and there was no time like the present. She was stronger than this. She'd tested dozens of men over the years, and none of them had such a keen and overwhelming effect on her.

  But it wasn't just Connor. The memory of Trevor's heated, sultry gaze stirred raw desire in her veins. Need licked up her thighs. Electric pleasure cramped in her cunt.

  She wanted them both. Badly.

  Focus, Isy. Focus.

  She took a deep breath, held it. One problem at a time. One man at a time.

  And despite his considerable attributes, Connor was still a man. Just a man. She could handle him. She could handle herself around him.

  Pasting a smile onto her face that felt as forced as the one she'd tried to summon for Trevor, she spun around, clutching every remaining strand of courage to her like an invisible lifeline.

  When her gaze landed on Connor, Isy's mind reeled. Shock slammed into her belly and caused her pussy
to spasm.

  He was naked. And she was screwed.

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  CHAPTER 4

  Isy knew her mouth hung open, but she couldn't bring herself to close it.

  Connor was a woman's wet dream. Worse, his desire was evident in every sexy inch of his body.

  She couldn't keep herself from drinking him in. Broad shoulders gave way to a sculpted chest, a toned, chiseled stomach, narrow hips, powerful thighs. He leaned against the powder-blue wall, legs splayed open in a confident pose. Her gaze fell on his cock, where it lingered on the thick, perfectly formed shaft. Rock hard, his beautiful rod lay against his stomach, the tip glistening wetly with undeniable arousal.

  For her.

  Damn. Was it possible she'd been wrong about his intentions?

  How could a man like Connor, who looked like a Greek god torn from the pages of a panty-wetting myth, be aroused by her? She was sixteen years his senior. A little too thick around the middle, sporting a few too many wrinkles around her eyes.

  And then there was her potential to rob Connor of his precious seed if she let him fuck her senseless, which, absurdly, was what she wanted more than she'd ever wanted anything in her life.

  He smirked as if he could read her doubts and had already dismissed every one of them. The delectable curve of his lips dared her to demand he cover up.

  "Well, isn't this an interesting turn of events?” He held her gaze, forcing her to stare into his distractingly handsome face. “I distinctly remember saying you were going to get naked for me."

  She blushed all the way to the tips of her ears. Heat engulfed her, sweeping in torrid waves from her cunt to her breasts and everywhere in between. Connor looked at her as though he wanted to devour her, and God, she wanted to let him.

  "This is still a clinic, Mr. Flynn. There are rules to be followed. If you'll pay no attention to the letter of the law, then perhaps morals and ethics will mean more to you."

  There. That was better. By falling back on the comfort offered by her professional persona, she'd been able to regain a small measure of control. And now that she had it, she clung to it with all the tenacity she possessed, stiffening her spine, thrusting out her chin. If the façade slipped, even a little, if she gave in to the desperate woman inside of her yearning to climb onto the bed and ride Connor until he screamed her name, she was lost. They both were.

  His hands tightened at his sides. Muscles corded, roping his powerful arms. “Come here."

  She flinched from the unmasked challenge in his voice. Her pulse threatened to hammer right through her ears. “W-Why?"

  "Because we had an agreement. You need my seed.” His brow furrowed. A hint of the darkness that lay behind his startling blue eyes played in their sparkling depths. “I know how this works, Isabel. Just because I can ejaculate doesn't automatically make me fertile. It only gives me a ninety percent chance of passing your test. So, until you have what you need from me, you're going to have to play along with my conditions. At the theater, you'd agreed to do just that. What's changed?"

  Nothing. Everything. I can't get the image of us making love out of my mind, and it scares the hell out of me.

  She took a deep breath, bolstering her courage. “You said it yourself. I'm afraid of you."

  He grunted, then swore something low under his breath. “I won't hurt you."

  Isy shook her head. “Not intentionally, no. But I can't make that same promise to you."

  He rose from the bed in a fluid movement that caused Isy's heart to climb into her throat. She stood her ground, torn between throwing herself into his arms and bolting for the door.

  "I didn't ask you to promise a damn thing, Isabel."

  There it was again. That sultry, enigmatic edge to his voice, the one that told her he wasn't simply amusing himself. No, this was something else. Something more insatiable. She had the eerie sensation of being toyed with by a large, hungry predator intent on claiming her at any cost.

  He took a step forward. Then another, until his chest pressed into her breasts. He stood so close, she could smell the intoxicating aroma drifting from his bare skin. The scent of the ocean mixed with a spice she couldn't name. An ancient cologne of some sort? That must have cost a fortune.

  When Isy looked up and glanced into his eyes, she saw herself reflected there, looking small and frightened. And unmistakably aroused.

  Connor's hands curled around her waist. He pulled her tight against him, letting her feel the steel length of his erection as it bore into her stomach. A pang of need surged into Isy's pussy, as potent and charged as the first time he'd held her this way.

  "It's the play.” The words slipped out of her mouth on a velvet whisper and hung between them like an ethereal reminder that what was happening in this room wasn't real. She needed to ground herself with a heavy dose of common sense. This thing between them ... everything Connor did and said. It had nothing to do with her. It couldn't.

  "Your research ... it's important enough to do all this. You have to get the details right. The emotions of your characters. The desperation of an older woman so eager for a man who makes her feel special that she's willing to circumvent the law for a few minutes of bliss."

  She knew she was babbling, but it didn't matter. She understood now. Things finally made sense.

  Connor sighed. He lowered his head and placed a soft kiss on the tip of her nose. The feel of his lips against her skin, even in such a chaste way, made her reach up and splay her palms against the firm muscles of his upper arms.

  "You saw my play. Did it seem to you like the emotions between the characters lacked realism?"

  She shook her head, mutely. There'd been more passion on that stage than Isy had experienced in her entire life. Somehow, Connor had managed to capture the fire, the obsession, the suffering of forbidden dirty love, beautifully. It was as though he'd experienced it for himself.

  Isy's head reeled as if she'd been slapped. “That's it! Oh, God! Why didn't I see it before? You had an affair with an older woman, and she ... you...” She shook her head, trying to make sense of the thoughts reeling through her mind. “You're in love,” she said at last, satisfied she'd come to the only logical conclusion.

  "Give the lady a prize,” he murmured against her lips. His thumb traced the line of her throat, sending a trembling shiver into her body. His caress continued, drifting down to one shoulder before sliding along the length of her arm. When his fingers curled around hers, she held on tight.

  A substitute. That's what she was. Someone who reminded Connor of what he'd once had, and what he'd lost. She'd always suspected he didn't want her. Not really. But fuck, suspecting something and having it confirmed were two different things. And, absurdly, knowing it hurt like hell.

  "You don't want me.” Saying it aloud, hearing the words ricochet back into her head, cemented the truth. She was in no danger of being ravished by a younger man. And as soon as he realized she was a poor stand-in for the woman he'd lost, he'd let her do her job and then he'd get the hell out of her clinic.

  With that thought firmly fixed in her mind, she shoved at his chest. Connor didn't budge. She tried again, pushing harder this time.

  Connor narrowed his eyes. He growled, slipped his hands under the globes of her ass, and hauled her into his arms. Before she could utter the slightest noise of protest or marvel at the way he lifted her as though she weighed nothing at all, he crushed his mouth to hers.

  She tried to fight him ... for all of a split second. The erotic force in his kiss undid her the moment his tongue swept past the barrier of her lips and thrust into her mouth. It met hers with a sweet, heart-wrenching glide. He tasted like wanton passion and pure male desire. The intoxicating flavor made her head reel.

  She clung to his bare shoulders as he spun them both around. She had the vague sensation of moving backward before Connor shoved her up on the small countertop by the sink. Her thighs parted of their own accord and she wrapped her legs around his waist. The kis
s deepened, and with each stroke of his tongue, her own exploration of his body grew bolder and less rational.

  Her palms swept across his shoulders, down his chiseled back, along his ribs, until she reached his ass and cupped the firm globes, kneading the muscled flesh. He growled into her mouth, a sound of pure satisfaction. She kissed him back with more fierce fury than she'd thought herself capable of, pouring every bit of anger and disappointment, every ounce of need and want and electrifying erotic desire, into the slip of her tongue against his.

  Why couldn't it have been her? The fingers of her right hand slipped between them. She found his cock, gripped it. Why couldn't he have fallen madly in lust with her?

  She broke the kiss first, panting, and couldn't help but glance into his eyes. Gone was the fierceness she'd grown to expect in their depths. All she saw there now was desire as passionate as hers.

  For a moment, she allowed herself to believe he did want her. Warmth traveled through her body, settling deep in her core. Her inner walls pulsed with awareness and excitement. It felt right, and oh, so good.

  She could pretend. Just for now, just until she could get the sample she needed. He'd wanted her to act like a woman in love. Suddenly, it was no hardship at all.

  He took half a step back, putting just enough distance between their bodies to nudge the blazer off her shoulders. She let it fall, hating to unwrap her palm from his erection even long enough to take off the blazer entirely.

  When she did, her palm tingled with the memory of his heated rod throbbing against her skin. She wanted to grab it again, to stroke it, to pleasure him until he shuddered in completion.

  In her fantasy, the sample-gathering container didn't exist. It was just Connor and Isy, loving each other.

  A moan slipped from her lips. She must have let the make-believe scenario gain even more control over her than she'd anticipated, because she found she liked this fantasy enough to keep pretending it could happen.

  He leaned in and nudged the side of her throat with his nose, then placed a playful nibbling bite on the curve of her shoulder. His fingers undid the buttons of her silk shirt in record time and flung it off at the first opportunity. Clad in only a matching silk chemise, Isy should have felt exposed. But she wasn't. Not yet.