The Bachelor Pact

She suddenly didn’t want this to end. She didn’t want him to recognize her. She wanted to be seen as charming and playful and beautiful. She wanted to relax and have fun and flirt.

Her gaze locked on his full lower lip below his contoured top lip. She wanted to kiss him. Before it was too late. Before she lost her nerve, and her only chance with it. As soon as he figured out that she was Drew Fleming, the moment would be lost.

A wave of panic sailed through her chest. She’d regret not kissing him for the rest of her life if she didn’t do it now. She set aside her champagne glass and faced him.

“Tell me more about—” he started, but she cut him off. In the most delicious way possible.

She grabbed his dashing, perfect face, tugged his mouth to hers and kissed him hard.

Three

Reid’s spicy cologne tickled her nose as she tasted his amazing mouth. She’d sort of slammed her lips into his to start—blame years of pent-up lust—but now she eased into a more tender kiss, sliding her lips over his in gentle exploration.

She didn’t know if he felt the same electric sizzle that flamed to life inside her the moment their mouths met, but she accepted that this couldn’t go on forever. When they pulled apart, she’d come clean. She’d tell him her name—her real one—and then she would do the awkward dance of apologizing for the subterfuge.

But when she would’ve ended the kiss, Reid’s fingers fed into her hair, holding her close. He opened his mouth wide and stroked his tongue against hers.

That ignited flame inside her burst into a five-alarm fire. He kissed like no man she’d ever known. The slide of his tongue was ten times more intoxicating than the champagne she’d been drinking—in and out, in and out. A needy sound resonated from her throat.

Reid Singleton was even more delicious than she’d imagined. And, oh, had she imagined. In the darkest corner of her bedroom with a flashlight and her journal. A shoebox in her closet held some truly horrible poetry. She’d imagined him saying her name in his proper accent—not in polite greeting, but with passion.

She might never know what it was like to hear him say her name in that way, but at least she knew how he tasted. Like smoky scotch and sexy male. Every part of her from her peaking nipples to her overheating thighs wanted to climb onto his lap and satisfy the insistent throbbing between her legs.

His kiss was both thorough but careful, his skill and his tongue almost too much to bear. Here was a man who knew how to please a woman, and Drew was a woman who needed pleasing. Badly. Not just sex for sex’s sake, but sex with Reid. Sex with the man who’d noticed her from across the room, who had always been polite and friendly to her and her family. The man who, if she told him who she was, would end this fantasy in an instant because he would never take advantage of his best friend’s little sister.

She wanted to hover in the in-between forever. Where they knew each other physically, where the past had no weight on the present.

She palmed his chest, and even over a shirt, he felt better than he had in her fantasies. Hard and firm, and real. So real. Greedily, she ran her fingers to the open placket of his shirt and touched the bare skin of his neck. That’s when he broke their connection.

Blinking like he was having an epiphany, he took her hand from his chest and held it, her fingers gripped lightly in his. She watched in horror as he studied her, his eyebrows drawn. She waited for recognition to hit, her own fear and worry a toxic mix. He’d recognize her, reject her—and possibly apologize for kissing her back, which would be worse than the other two combined.

Turned out he did that first.

“Apologies for that,” he said, his accent thick, his voice tight with what she hoped was lust and not disappointment.

“Don’t be sorry. I’m the one who kissed you.” She licked her lips, needing another drink of her champagne like her next breath. She reached for the flute, but he beat her to it, handing over her glass. “I’ve wanted to do that for a long time.”

A deep chuckle brought her eyes to his, and she held his gaze and silently asked the question she wouldn’t dare ask aloud. Did you figure out who I am yet?

“All seven minutes you’ve known me, Christina?” His lips twisted temptingly. If that didn’t answer her question soundly, nothing would. He still had no idea who she was.

She polished off the remainder of her bubbly. Disappointment had no place in the moments following kissing him, but it was there anyway, making her chest tight and causing her to feel something else. Sad, if she wasn’t mistaken.

Beggars can’t be choosers, Drew. You wanted to kiss him, and this was your only opportunity. Did you expect more?

More.

She blinked, the rogue thought so far from her good-girl tendencies she instinctively wanted to shut it out. Reid’s throat moved as he swallowed a sip of scotch. His Adam’s apple bobbed, and she chased the line of his neck to the scant bit of chest hair visible where his shirt gaped open—just below where she’d touched him seconds ago.

Lie or confess?

“I’m an impatient woman. That’s why I kissed you.” Lie, it was.

She wanted more. She wanted to run her tongue along his neck and kiss his bare chest. She wanted to kiss the firm, flat plane of his belly and trace that trail of hair down to the promised land. She wanted his mouth on hers, and lower. On her breasts and body, between her legs where she knew he’d be incredibly attentive and pleasing.

Although, if she walked out of this party without him—without telling him who she was—she’d be off the hook completely. She didn’t hang around online and chat with old friends or new. She wouldn’t cross Reid’s path again unless Gage invited them to the same party—oh, shit.

Her brother’s wedding!

Reid would see Drew at the wedding because he’d be there, obviously. Hell, he’d probably be the best man. He’d recognize her then, now wouldn’t he?

That narrowed her options to an unfortunate one: confessing her real identity.

Reid tucked her hair behind her ear, then rested his arm over the back of the sofa. Leaning close, he watched her carefully. “I like impatience in a woman. And not to sound like a complete nutter, but I feel as if that kiss was inevitable. That even if you’d have waited seven more minutes, and seven more after that, it would’ve happened eventually.”

Or maybe if I’d waited nine years. Ha ha ha...sigh.

He traced his finger along her jaw, his eyes following the path. Her heart rate was erratic. Could he see her pulse point thundering at the side of her neck? Then another, more devious, thought occurred. If she didn’t tell him the truth just yet, how far could she take this night of fantasy? He’d forgive her. He’d have to. Gage and Reid weren’t going to stop being friends because Drew told a white lie. Although one had to wonder if her own identity would be considered a “white” lie. Maybe off-white. Light gray...

“Like fate?” she whispered as he traced the scoop neckline of her shirt. This felt like fate to her.

“Bold word, but why not?” He continued touching her exposed skin, barely any pressure, the tickling sensation bringing forth goose bumps. “I also imagine that the evening will end with more than kissing if you’ll allow it.”

The skipped beat of her heart caused her breath to catch. “M-more?”

He trailed his hand to her palm and wove their fingers together. “A night together would amp up this conference to best-ever territory. I know you don’t know me, Christina, but while I’m a man who enjoys a woman in my bed, I rarely mix work and play.”

He lifted their entwined hands and kissed the top of hers, his stunning blue irises burning into her. She’d known Reid well enough to know that he didn’t hold back in the physical affection department, but she’d never label him a player. That was too crass a word for him. He was simply a physical guy, acting on his instincts and his, she assumed, amazing skill. She couldn’t imagine a single woman leaving his company being disappointed in his performance. Though many of them probably felt like she did: full of longing and worrying he wouldn’t return her affections.

If ever there was a “seize the day” moment, this was it.

“What do you say? My room or yours? I’ll let you choose, but mine is a suite with a kitchen, a balcony and a soaking tub.”

“No piano?” She wanted to shout “yes!” but her nerves—or maybe her habit of always doing the right thing—had her stalling.

“No piano.” His glorious chuckle might be the death of her. She wasn’t a swooner, but she was close. “Room service and I are acquainted. I arrived two days before the conference started, and there wasn’t an after-party with a beautiful woman in gold waiting to share my steak and movie.”

“What movie?”

He grinned, maybe knowing she was stalling and not caring. “Jaws.”

“Jaws!” His answer startled a laugh out of her. “How did you sleep?”

He let go of her hand, charm dialed to eleven as he swept his hand to her nape. He said one word—“fitfully”—before covering her lips with his and drinking her in for a kiss that lasted long enough to turn her brain to mush.

“Christina.” His warm breath coasted over her lips.

Drew’s eyes were closed, the pretending still in play. She could carry on this farce, let him seduce her for real and agree not to regret the sex. It wasn’t as if she would’ve had a prayer of seducing Reid as herself, but as “Christina” she had a chance.

“Let me make your dreams come true,” he said. “Come to my room.”

It was everything she wanted to hear, but guilt niggled at her.

“Isn’t that a secondary location?” she breathed. “I learned never to be moved to a secondary location.”

Another light press of his lips, and she opened her eyes. It was like seeing him for the first time, that angled jaw, those entrancing eyes, the full mouth slightly pink from her recent attention. How could she say no?

She couldn’t.

“That was a joke.” She gripped his shirt and kissed him. He let her, which was thrilling. “I’d like to see your room, Reid. I’d like to see much more than your room.”

Her heart was tapping out a salsa, her palms sweaty, her stomach a Tilt-A-Whirl of excitement. This was happening—really happening—and since Drew was a woman accustomed to setting goals and achieving them, she decided to stop justifying and embrace the moment. This moment.

“That might be the yes of my life, Christina.”

She didn’t know if he said that to all the girls, but she wanted to believe that it was just for her. They stood, leaving their glasses on the low table by the sofa, and then he led her away from the thumping bass of the speakers and out of the room.

Four

Drew entered the elevator and Reid stepped in behind her. The doors swished shut as he punched the button for the twenty-first floor.

She was in an elevator, alone with Reid Singleton, heading skyward to his hotel room, where they would have sex. Drew smothered a smile as she examined her strappy shoes, a flush of heat creeping along her neck as she imagined him removing those shoes and kissing his way up her calves...

She was as confident in his ability as she was in herself, although admittedly her confidence was fairly recent. Three years ago, at age twenty-four, she decided she’d no longer hide behind the excess weight or comfort herself by eating. She hired a personal trainer and cut out processed and fried foods and quickly dropped the unwanted pounds.

Drew loved food. Of that she’d had no doubt. But she didn’t feel an ounce of shame admitting she loved food now that she had a healthy relationship with it. No longer did she soothe her negative emotions by eating; now she exercised or worked. She’d changed her mind-set—decided she was worthy of the good things life had to offer—and that had made all the difference.

A little over a year ago she’d achieved another goal. She’d been featured in Restauranteurs, an industry magazine, as one of the “Top 30 under 30” professionals. She’d been the only restaurant public relations manager in the magazine.

Her employer, Fig & Truffle, owned several restaurants, cafés and bars in and around Seattle. It’d been Drew’s job these four years to oversee the soft openings. Seattle’s foodie scene was massive. And after the feature in the magazine, Fig & Truffle boosted her pay and made Drew the PR go-to.

She handled press, booked reviewers, interviewed top chefs from around the world...which was how she’d met her previous boyfriend. Chef Devin Briggs was the cherry on top of her “I’ve arrived” sundae, but they didn’t last. How could they when he was a selfish ass in love with only himself?

Jerk.

“Second thoughts?” Reid’s smooth voice interrupted as the elevator bumped to a soft stop. He was watching her with curiosity and not in recognition, thank goodness.

“Not at all.” She stepped out when the doors parted, pausing in the long corridor for him to lead the way. He palmed her lower back as they walked side by side, and again she became intently aware of him—of the breadth of his shoulders and warm weight of his hand on her body. Of his comforting presence.

There was an innate kindness to Reid one might overlook upon first meeting him. Probably because he was insanely gorgeous. That sharp jaw, full mouth and the hint of a dent at the center of his chin were so all-consuming it took a few minutes to realize he was human and not a futuristic sex toy designed solely for a woman’s pleasure. Looking at him was a decadent treat—forget kissing him. Only she’d never, ever forget. Not even when she was ninety and gumming her food.

At the end of the corridor, Reid guided her to the right to a double-doored suite. He scanned his key, and gestured for her to go in ahead of him.

The suite was about one hundred times nicer than her room. She’d bunked at a hotel across the street from the convention center. Her room had a rattling air-conditioning unit, pilled, nubby carpet and wall hangings the color of pea soup. She’d have to tell Christina the next time her company offered to send her out of town to upgrade the room if possible.

Conversely, Reid’s room was modern and posh. No piano, but the palette was a tasteful dove gray and pale ocean blue and minimally decorated with stylish furniture. The door opened to a wide sitting room with a couch and colorful throw pillows. A flat-screen television hung on the wall. A kitchenette and bar were on the opposite side, and the bedroom was visible through an open door across the room. Her eyes snagged on that room for a beat, imagining being laid on that stone-colored bedspread under Reid’s blue-eyed attention...

Her recently earned confidence took a sudden dip.

“Nice. This is nice,” she told him, her smile feeling brittle and forced.

“My company spoils me.” He walked to a desk in the far corner, lifted the phone’s receiver and murmured into it while she meandered around the suite. The bathroom was the size of her entire hotel room, the soaking tub wide enough for three people to sit comfortably.

“Champagne and strawberries are on their way up.” She turned to see Reid stuff his hands in his pockets, his expression handsome and affable. “You didn’t think I’d bring you up here and strip you bare right away, did you? Where’s the fun in that?”

He untucked his hands and came to her, cradling her jaw. “If you change your mind at any time, Christina, say the word. I’m not owed anything.”

“That won’t happen,” she whispered. “I need this more than you know.”

A flicker of concern sparked in his eyes before a flame of desire crowded it out. She rested both hands on his chest, and he took the invitation to kiss her deeply. The only sounds were the soft suctioning of their mouths and the gentle scrape of the material of her shirt as he moved his palms over her arms.

Drew hadn’t been with anyone since Chef Devin Briggs left her to start a family with another woman. Drew hadn’t been ready for a family. She’d been building her career and enjoying her freedom. Devin, eleven years older than her, had already established his career and was ready to settle down. It’d been a frequent topic of argument between them, and had eventually led to their demise.

She’d been single since he left, working hard and skipping sleep in pursuit of becoming the very best at what she did. As a result, she hadn’t had time to feel truly lonely. Christina had been there to distract her, chattering away about work or her own guy problems.

Drew had spent any free time she’d had researching and reading about food service and public relations, or staying up until the wee hours to call chefs in other countries who might be interested in lending their expertise to one of Fig & Truffle’s franchises.

In short, she hadn’t had the time or inclination to indulge her fantasies.

Until tonight.

Her fingers twitched with the urge to undo each button on Reid’s shirt and kiss a trail over his hard chest to the muscular bumps of his abdomen. At the same time, she worried that somehow he would see her—the former her. That the pounds she’d lost would reappear in his mind and he’d recoil, leaving her feeling unworthy all over again.

Ridiculous, she scolded silently.

He nipped her bottom lip before peppering kisses on the side of her neck. Her worries dissipated with each press of his lips. Overcome by longing and the sensations in her sex-starved body, Drew gave in to the experience that was Reid.

He must’ve sensed that she was through talking or stalling, because next he bent and lifted her, propping her back against the wall. He continued kissing her neck and collarbone as she wrapped her legs around his waist. He anchored her there with his hips between her open thighs and—oh!

Her center lined up perfectly with the hard ridge of his erection, which made its presence known as it pressed against her most sensitive spot.

“Ready, both of us, then.” He ground against her, sending her into a mental free fall.

She’d never imagined sex with him would be a reality. When she’d last seen him, she’d been eighteen and awkward and shy and quiet, and at that birthday party where she’d decided to wear the damn bikini, she hadn’t missed Reid flirting shamelessly with the female bartender. While he’d ordered a beer, Drew had sipped on mocktails without a drop of alcohol. It’d been a good reminder of the gaps between them—not only the handful of years separating their ages but also of his class and stature. Of his sheer beauty and her averageness. Like a great sequoia next to a plain maple tree, anyone could see how different they were.

Tonight, she’d prove to herself she was worthy of the great Reid Singleton.

“I’ve been ready longer than you know,” she said. His hair was thick and soft against her fingers. He smiled, his lips damp from kissing her. Once again she worried he was looking at her. Really looking.

She worried he might see that beyond her dark hair and curvy yet slimmer physique was the once-shy younger sister of Gage. She didn’t want to become suddenly undesirable or untouchable.

So not an option.

Distracting him as best she knew how, Drew stroked Reid’s crotch, pleased when the material of his pants tented invitingly. He groaned, his tongue plunging into her mouth as he took his sweet time.

She was ready—absolutely aching to have him inside her. He loosened his hold on her, and she untangled her legs from his waist to stand on her feet. She unbuckled his belt and worked his fly open as he tore his mouth from hers to suck in a breath. He freed her from her shirt and once her lacy pale pink bra was revealed, he froze, his attention on her breasts. They were generous and always had been, but appeared even bigger in the silky demicup bra she’d purchased to match her shoes. Her D cups were swollen and pressed together, her deep cleavage an invitation.

It was an invitation he eagerly accepted, cupping her breasts and lowering his face to kiss the tops of each one.

She’d worked hard on her body—keeping her waist trim and legs toned took a lot of work and effort. And since she’d worked hard, she was going to enjoy her reward. Him.

She unbuttoned his shirt as he slipped the bra straps off her shoulders, kissing her here and there as he did. She ran her hands over the expanse of his golden skin, and he tugged one bra cup down and sucked on her nipple. Her back arched, sending her breast deeper into his mouth, the resulting dampness in her panties a welcome warmth.

His mouth is the eighth wonder of the world, she thought, dazed by his skill.

He moved to her other nipple but before he could blow her mind, a sharp knock at the door preceded a call of “Room service!”

He lifted his face to hers, his eyes glazed with arousal. She fisted his hair in protest, and he winced in pain.

“Sorry,” she muttered, letting him go.

“No, I’m sorry.” He sent a baleful look in the direction of the door. She didn’t want him to stop or even pause. She didn’t want to give him a single moment to reconsider or change his mind. She couldn’t bear the rejection.

He lifted her hand and kissed her palm before bending to retrieve her shirt and pressing it over her exposed breasts.

“Bedroom.” His voice was rusty and sexy as hell. “I’ll take care of this.”

He crossed the room, his shirt and pants open, his hair a disaster.

Her grin was downright arrogant.

She’d weakened Reid Singleton’s knees. What a powerful feeling that was. And he didn’t seem anywhere near done with her yet.

At the door Reid buttoned his pants and ran his hands through his hair, sending her a wink as she backed into the shadows of the bedroom.

Five

Reid didn’t bother closing his shirt or tidying himself much before letting the hotel employee in. He’d ordered champagne and strawberries, after all, which should’ve made it obvious that he was having a romantic interlude. He did tuck his hips behind the door when he opened it. What he was hiding from view would be too much information for whoever would wheel in the dessert cart.

A shaggy-haired guy who couldn’t be more than twenty-one shuffled in looking bored and tired. Reid retrieved the first bill he saw from his wallet and stuffed it in the guy’s palm.

Bloody hell. Reid had given him a fifty in his haste.

The kid held up the bill and blinked at it. “Wow. Thanks, man.”

“No problem.” Any amount of money was worth returning to his date as quickly as possible.

Door shut, Reid flipped the safety lock as Christina appeared from the dark bedroom. Her skirt was in place, those incredible shoes crisscrossing up her ankles. Her shirt was still missing—a good sign—and she was wearing a pale pink bra that barely encased her gorgeous breasts.

Those breasts might be the death of him, but what a way to go.

She repositioned the cups almost self-consciously as she walked toward him. He knew her breasts were both beautiful and delicious. He’d have to take more time admiring and tasting them. He also wanted to taste those thighs and higher. He’d had her legs around his hips, her molten center warming his straining erection. He needed her, and he needed her now.

“The cart’s arrived.” Not what he wanted to say, but he thinking was a challenge with all the blood flowing to his nethers.

“I see that.” Her smile was so sweet that he couldn’t shake the idea that he was taking advantage of her somehow. The way she’d said earlier that she’d been ready longer than he knew hinted that it’d been a while since she’d had a man in her bed. Likely longer since she’d had a man who knew what he was doing in her bed.