10 Rules to Sex Up a Blind Date

She laughed, a full, throaty sound that settled in his lap like melted honey. ‘I’m sorry for the subterfuge, but Sam said you prefer to do the chasing.’

He stroked a finger down her cheek, let it linger under her chin. ‘Sam doesn’t know me as well as he thinks he does.’

Her smile took on a wicked tilt. ‘Clearly.’

Holding her chin, he tugged her towards him until their lips were only a hair’s-breadth apart. And drew in a lungful of her scent—citrus and spice. She smelled glorious, like freshly squeezed OJ and original sin, the perfect aphrodisiac for a Catholic kid who’d grown up working in his dad’s grocery store. Saliva collected in his mouth at the thought of tasting the rest of her. ‘So exactly what did Sam tell you about me?’ he asked, forcing himself to slow down for a second.

Sam had always had a screwy sense of humour. And the guy had been Della’s friend before he’d been Brent’s. Brent didn’t want to take any chances that this was another one of Sam’s jokes—one that he was about to become the butt of. Because the last time Sam had set him up on a date, it had been with a transvestite. Luckily Marilyn had been in on the joke too, or things could have gotten pretty awkward when Brent had spotted her Adam’s apple about two seconds after meeting her.

‘Sam said that you’re a hard-ass with women,’ Tally replied. ‘Who doesn’t do relationships.’

‘Sam said that?’ Brent ignored the spike of irritation. Why should he care what Sam had told her? After all, it was the god’s honest truth. And he wasn’t ashamed of it. Not anymore.

‘Don’t worry, as far as I’m concerned a hard-ass is exactly what I’m looking for. That and a huge...’ Her gaze dipped suggestively. ‘Sam seemed to think you would meet both those criteria.’

Jesus. He drew back a little. Sam had told her about Della’s photo? He’d always known the guy had probably seen it. When your ex put a picture of your junk on Facebook to humiliate you, you had to assume the worst, but he’d always figured Sam had more class than to mention it to anyone.

‘I’m sorry, have I shocked you?’ she said with deceptive innocence.

She didn’t look a bit sorry, and she kind of had shocked him, but he wasn’t about to let her know it. There were rules to this game, and the first rule was never show a weakness. ‘I don’t shock that easy.’

‘That’s good, because Sam told me something else...’ She paused to twirl her fingertip in the daiquiri.

‘Seems Sam was pretty damn talkative about me.’ He rested his elbows on the table. Crowding her space a little more. ‘You should know, him and me, we’re not exactly bosom buddies, if you get my meaning.’

‘Yes, well, the fact that you and Sam aren’t bosom buddies is sort of a prerequisite for the skills he mentioned.’

‘Skills, huh?’ He pretended confusion.

But he knew exactly what she was referring to, because Della had delighted in telling anyone who would listen that was the only reason she’d married him. Della had found lots of ways to slap him down in public and in private—the Facebook revenge porn being just one. But this was the only smackdown that still stung. Knowing that the Park Avenue Princess who had flattered him once with her grace and sophistication had only hooked up with him—a kid from Brooklyn on a scholarship with lots of ambition, but not a heck of a lot else—because of his skills in the sack. Until this precise moment, it had made him feel cheap. But now...not so much.

‘Yes, skills.’ Tally placed her finger in her mouth and sucked off the alcohol—wiping his mind clear of his ex-wife. ‘Quite phenomenal skills, apparently. That I have to admit I am extremely intrigued by.’

He grinned, about as turned on as he’d ever been—without being naked. Bad girls had never been his thing. But he was beginning to see the appeal now. Big. Time. The woman’s confidence and her directness were powerful turn-ons.

Standing up, he gripped her upper arm and pulled her out of the booth until they were standing toe-to-toe. Far be it from him to turn down an invitation delivered with such open hunger.

Placing a hand on her hip, he dragged her against him. ‘You’re pretty forward, Tally. I always thought English girls were supposed to be shy and snooty.’

She peered up at him, excitement dancing in her eyes. ‘You’ve obviously been meeting entirely the wrong English girls.’

‘No shit.’ He rested his thumb on the delicate pulse in her neck. ‘How would you feel about taking this upstairs?’ He wanted to kiss that knowing smirk right off her face. But he didn’t dare do it until he had her somewhere private. ‘Before my huge—’ he lifted his brows and let her draw her own conclusions ‘—bursts right out of my pants.’

‘That sounds like an excellent idea.’ She smiled, obviously enjoying the game as much as he was. ‘Especially if you expect me to catch it.’

‘You bet I do.’ He groaned and grasped her hand to lead her towards the elevators at the back of the bar that went to the hotel reception above—and keyed the concierge’s number into his phone.

A part of his mind was screaming at him that what he was doing was totally nuts. He’d only just met this woman, and he didn’t know anything about her. But for once that felt like a good thing. A great thing. Because no expectations meant no disappointments. All Tally wanted from him was good, honest—and hopefully really dirty—sex. And that was one thing he would have no problem delivering after four months on sabbatical.

As they stepped into the lift together, he booked the room, then arranged to have a bell-hop meet them upstairs with the key.

Damn, by tomorrow morning he was definitely going to owe Sam a kiss.

Chapter Four

#NewRule: Spontaneity is the spice of life...and can also add considerable firepower to hot sex in luxury hotel suites. #justsaying