The Derby Girl Page 11

  “No, it’s not.”

  She squirmed under the intensity of his stare. “Let me guess. This is some sort of student-teacher fantasy of yours, isn’t it?”

  “I never had a teacher as hot as you. I doubt I would have passed a single class.”

  Her heart picked up. “And here I assumed you’d want to be the one in front of the class. You seem to love telling people what to do.”

  His grip on her hip tightened, and his fingers splayed against the top curve of her bottom. She felt the pressure of each fingertip like a prong, but he made no move to caress. Merely to contain.

  “That’s because most people let me get away with it. I get the feeling there’s a lot more I could learn from you than you could ever get from me.”

  If this was flattery, Jared was exceptional at it. She didn’t care who was the teacher and who was the student—who called the shots and who fell in line. As his mouth brushed softly against hers, all she cared about was him.

  She wrapped her arms around Jared’s waist and pulled him close, unable to stand the light touching, the gentle teasing. His body was compact and solid in a way that made her quiver down to her very loins, and she pressed said loins against him to show her appreciation. Opening her mouth against his, she took the kiss from sweet to all-tongues-on-board hot.

  “See?” Jared’s hand slipped lower, cupping and kneading her ass in the too-tight pants. Something about the compactness of all her flesh squeezed in there made each twitch of his fingers lift the hair on the back of her neck. “I’m learning something already.”

  “Oh, yeah? What do you have so far?” Since his mouth was busy, she moved her lips along the rough edge of his jaw. As his grizzled exterior promised, it was all hard lines and scratchy stubble. Her tongue rasped against his skin as she moved down over his jawline, paying extra special attention to the side of his neck. She even bit for good measure. He wasn’t the only one who could leave a mark.

  “Well, for starters, you tasting like chlorine the other day wasn’t a fluke.” To her surprise, he lifted her hand and kissed the surface of it, a knight of old. Well—maybe not entirely like a knight, since he lingered over her skin, nipping and sucking. “It’s everywhere. Your hair, your neck, your entire body.”

  “It is?” That sounded kind of...gross. “Is it really that strong?”

  “It’s become my new favorite smell.” Bite. Suck. Swirl. Her body rocketed in a spike of pleasure as he took one of her fingers in his mouth. “These days, all I dream of is chlorine, of fucking in pools and drowning in your skin.”

  Oh. Shit. That was good.

  “What else have you learned?” she asked as he continued his path up her arm—past the crude, colorful Ganesha, skimming over the fairy looking at her reflection in a pond, spending quite a bit of time ogling the WWII pinup girl. Gretchen’s tattoos weren’t exactly deep, soulful depictions of her heart. She’d always thought of them as costume-y as the rest of her wardrobe. Just a little more permanent, that was all.

  Whenever anyone asked her why she’d gotten them, or what she was going to do as she aged and wanted a more respectable place in this world, she always responded the same way. If I ever become the sort of person who cares that much about what a few silly tattoos say about me, then I deserve them.

  Jared never asked where they came from or why. Maybe it was only because he didn’t want to shatter the illusion of her they created, but she liked to think he simply accepted her as she was.

  “I know that I should never cross you by insulting your intelligence.” He’d made it all the way up to her shoulder and stopped kissing. Instead, his finger brushed lightly along her collarbone. “I know that you have a scary amount of insight into what kind of punishment will undo me the most.”

  He was the one coming undone? Gretchen begged to differ.

  “I think maybe you’re putting too much stock in my abilities,” she confessed, her voice strangled. “All I was trying to do was seduce you.”

  His lips drew near her ear, sending a shiver that went all the way to her toes. “It worked.”

  The room plunged into darkness as he pulled her into another kiss—this time holding nothing back. Even though the rational part of Gretchen’s brain knew that the only way the lights could have undergone a change was if one of the custodial staff members had flipped the necessary switch, she couldn’t help but lose herself in the determination of Jared’s embrace. He kissed as if he was desperate for human affection, starved for another person’s touch. His mouth wrapped over hers as though he wanted to devour her in the darkness. And when both of his hands drifted southward, not stopping until her ass was firmly captured in his hands, Gretchen decided all those things were okay with her.

  This was a classic case of not looking a gift horse in the mouth. She wasn’t looking. She was losing herself in the soft insistence of it.

  She was also kind of regretting the non-porous pants.

  “Someone could walk in on us at any moment.” She pulled away, her legs unsteady. “I don’t think the school looks kindly on fornication in their lecture halls. Even if one member of the party is you.”

  He cocked a brow. “Scared?”

  Trust a man—trust him—to turn this into some kind of dare. “Of course I’m not. But I have to show my face here again tomorrow.”

  Before she could follow up her brave words with action, he resumed his tight hold on her ass. She opened her legs so that his body fit neatly underneath hers, his pelvis rock hard and oh-so-right. There was no mistaking his arousal—not with the hard edge of his erection pressing insistently at the juncture of her thighs—and when he shifted so that he sat on the desk, she naturally moved with him, sitting astride.

  Yep. She was straddling a man. In the middle of a classroom.

  And from the way she almost liquefied against him, her sex throbbing with each tiny shift of their bodies, she was apparently going with it.

  Okay, then.

  “Let me guess,” she added breathlessly. “You’re one of those men who think the only way to get over one’s fears is to confront them head-on.”

  “I don’t think you should say the word head to me right now. I’m too damn close to taking you here on the desk, lecture hall fornication or not.”

  “Head,” she teased.

  He groaned and kissed her neck. “Gretchen—I mean it.”

  “Or do you like tails better?” She gasped as he moved his lips further down, nibbling on her clavicle, taking his time with the soft indentation at the base of her throat. “If I remember correctly, it’s the tails you prefer. Firm, round tails bent over the desk. Tails you can bite into. Tails you can—oh!”

  He began kneading her tail roughly, encouraging her to move against him—not in the act of fornication, but a simulation thereof. In this instance, it didn’t seem to make one bit of difference either way. They might be fully clothed, but she pulsed with the mounting pressure of two bodies that knew exactly what they wanted from one another.

  It was the tight pants that did it—there was nowhere else for all that desire to go. Ladylike gyrations were all that was left to her.

  Except they weren’t very ladylike.

  Clasping her arms around his neck and twisting a fist in his hair, she kissed Jared deeply, and his tongue entered her body in the absence of a more physical union. Of course, that didn’t stop her from grinding against him, an orgasm shuddering so quickly she barely had time to register that this situation—this seduction that was supposed to be hers to control—was going there.

  Jared kept his mouth pressed firmly over hers as she cried out in pleasure, swallowing the noise and earning her gratitude.

  Unfortunately, gratitude only went so far. After a brief moment in which she caught her breath, he pulled away and looked at her expectantly, a smile playing on his lips. Was she s
upposed to say something? Now?

  She struggled to come up with the appropriate response. Thanks for the ride seemed a bit too familiar, Shall I drop to my knees and suck you off a little too forward. Where was the guidebook for this sort of thing?

  Jared spared her the task of coming up with the appropriate words. “I have to get back to the office.”

  “Wow. Um...okay?” Gretchen blinked, looking around to see if they had gathered an audience after all. Nothing and no one was there, no sounds except Jared’s heavy breathing and the roaring in her own ears as her blood settled.

  “Believe me,” he said sternly, lowering her to the ground. “There is nothing I’d like more right now than to whisk you into a back room and pay proper homage to those pants. But I have a rhinoplasty.”

  Gretchen didn’t fail to note that his crotch showed the bulging strain of his recent chivalry. It was a good look on a man—especially this one. She skimmed her hands gently over the swell of him, hearing his hiss of satisfaction with her entire body.

  “Please.” He clasped her wrists and held them away from himself. She might have been insulted if not for the very clear look of pain in his face. She knew that pain. Up until about five minutes ago, she’d been feeling those sharp stabs herself.

  “I know this is bad timing, but I can’t miss any more work this afternoon. Nose jobs wait for no man.”

  He examined her with quiet intensity, awaiting her response. And despite his avowal that she was the teacher and he the student in this scenario, she felt this might be a test to see how she’d react. He’d just proven he was as effective as she in the art of seduction, that he could match her in terms of audacity and daring, that pushing her to the extremes took no more than firm hands and a hard erection.

  And her? Was she the clingy, needy type? A roll-with-it-good-time gal? Would she adopt a passive aggressive role and never let it drop?

  None of the above. Gretchen had never been very good at coloring in the lines.

  She pushed him away and straightened her clothes. Acutely aware that her next words mattered more than either one of them cared to admit in the balance of their relationship, she gave her head an indignant toss. “You’re a tease, Dr. Fine, that’s what you are. You should have opened with that.”

  “I’m sorry.” His eyes moved carefully over her body, lingering on the roundest parts. “I got distracted.”

  She released a chuckle. That was one way to put it.

  “Okay, then.” She grabbed her purse and motioned for him to precede her out the door. “Let’s go.”

  “Is this a trap?”

  “I’m waiting for you to leave,” she said, her voice level. “If you think you’re getting to watch these pants exit the building after a stunt like that, you underestimate me.”

  “Another punishment, huh?” He shook his head ruefully, but she could tell the answer pleased him. “I think this one might be the cruelest of all. But I’m still invited to your roller derby game tomorrow, right?”

  The air left her lungs. There was no mistaking that little-boy pucker in his brow—he actually thought she might retract the offer. And even more than that...he feared it.

  He really wants to come.

  “We might be able to work something out,” she said.

  His face broke into the deeply lined grin that was rapidly becoming her favorite sight in the world. Determined not to let him see it, she shooed him away and let him get a few steps ahead of her, enjoying the sight of his pants exiting the building, tight in all the right places, his thighs two powerful trunks leading up to perfection. When he realized what she was doing, he hooked his fingers in his belt and added a sashay to his hips.

  Gretchen groaned. This man was going to be the death of her—and worse, he knew it.

  “You could bounce quarters off that thing.” She cupped her mouth to call after him.

  He turned, offering her one last grin before he disappeared from view. “If you want to start throwing money at me, Gretchen, I imagine there’s a lot more we can do with a fistful of dollar bills.”

  Chapter Nine

  The biggest problem with living in a place like Pleasant Park was that there were exactly five places to get a decent cup of coffee. Of the five, three of them played music so loud it was impossible to conduct a conversation. A fourth was a chain store Jared knew for a fact bought its coffee from a manufacturer that exploited labor in Colombia, so he refused to do business there.

  That left Java Rocket. They offered great drinks, a better atmosphere and, unfortunately, a high probability of recognition.

  “I can’t tell you how happy I am you agreed to meet with me.” Paula Forks slid into the chair opposite him and set an oversized ceramic cup in the center of the colorfully tiled table.

  That made one of them—especially since Jared just that moment caught sight of Gretchen humming and bobbing behind the counter, oblivious to his presence. It was a wonder he hadn’t realized who she was on that first night they met. Yes, she looked young, what with her hair braided and coiled in some kind of ornate pattern up on her head and the fact that she dressed in worn jeans that hugged the curve of her ass and a tank top that stretched tight across her breasts—small, pert and perfect for her. Perfect for him.

  But there was a lot more to her than the exterior package. She also radiated a kind of simple, unconscious joy that wasn’t something Jared encountered often enough for it to feel commonplace.

  “Maybe we should do this at my office,” he said, forcing himself to divert his attention to Paula. She suddenly seemed overdressed, overeager, over-everything. “Or reschedule. I’m not sure I have the time...”

  Her smile was tight. “The woman I talked to at your office said you’d be free for a few hours. I promise to be as brief as I can.”

  “Tanya said that?”

  “Yes. Something about the owners taking a long lunch today?”

  “Ah. Of course.” Jared clasped his hands underneath the table and feigned disinterest. “My colleagues have made it a point to patronize local businesses during lunch hour. They’re very into the community here.”

  “You don’t care to join them?”

  I’m still working on it.

  “Let’s get going with this, shall we?” he asked, changing the subject. The last things he wanted to talk about right now were his personal doubts and shortcomings. He needed all the strength he had for this.

  He slid the envelope—opened now, crinkled from his impetuous first response to throw it into the nearest bonfire—across the table. “I’m not sure I understand what it is that’s being offered here.”

  “Oh, was it not clear?” Her wide-eyed innocence stretched the realm of credulity too far to make him feel very comfortable. She tapped the top page. “Executive director.”

  “You mean locally, right? Small time stuff?” The last he checked, Make the World Smile was an organization of thousands, with offices in five countries and a medical presence in twenty times that many. One didn’t just get foisted to the top without a lot of strings being pulled first. “As in, you want me to attend a few functions, smile and wave and boost donations?”

  That he could do. Smiling and waving might not come naturally to him, but he could fake it as well as the next guy.

  “Ah, I see.” Paula smiled. “You’re worried about the scope of the job—that maybe you’re too young, too inexperienced. I think you’ve more than proven your capabilities when it comes to leadership. Didn’t you go through something similar when you first started?”

  “I don’t think we’re talking about the same thing here.”

  To say he’d been ecstatic when the team leader position came through for his first assignment was an understatement. He’d been put in charge of a team at twenty-seven, fresh out of residency, puffed up with his own greatness. />
  But things hadn’t gone well on that first job, and it was only through the backing of an incredible support team that he’d been able to succeed at all. Of course, that hadn’t stopped him from taking most of the credit. Being twenty-seven and overloaded with praise didn’t make an ideal setting for a man like him.

  Paula raised an eyebrow. “Aren’t we? You’ve been team leader, head surgeon, field coordinator. Your public appearances at fundraising events the past year alone have brought in almost ten million dollars. There isn’t a single position on or off the field that you haven’t held in the past decade—and excelled at. You know it. The media knows it. And the board of directors at Make the World Smile knows it.”

  “You can’t possibly be serious.” He felt an overwhelming urge to crumple the papers all over again, but he doubted the fake fire flaming on the opposite wall would suffice to incinerate the evidence. “You don’t want to put me in charge of the entire organization. What do I know about running administrative offices at that level? What on earth would I have to offer that the current director doesn’t?”

  “You have charisma, Dr. Fine.” The waver in Paula’s smile did little to convince him that she believed it. “You have the public’s eye. You have an impeccable track record of success. And most importantly, you have drive—not a single doctor, nurse, or speech therapist on our multinational staff rivals you for hours worked, dedication logged. The real question you should be asking is why has it taken us so long to make the offer?”

  He couldn’t help but take the bait. “Why has it taken you so long to make the offer?”

  “You left before we had a chance to formalize everything.” She tsked. “Disappeared from our ranks to take up a profitable cosmetic surgery practice in a Pennsylvania backwater. You can imagine our surprise—as well as the generous compensation package we’re prepared to offer to make up for it. We want you in Washington, Dr. Fine—and we’re willing to pay you whatever it takes to make that happen.”

  It’s not about the goddamned money.