Negotiating Tactics

Five

Alex

I staredat his outstretched hand, wanting to take it more than I had wanted anything in my entire life.

Being too frozen with terror to even consider doing so.

I shifted in the tall bistro chair, the way my sex was heavy and slick reminding me of how much I wanted him.

But I ignored that and then looked into his eyes.

He looked intense, and, at first glance, scary.

But I wasn’t afraid.

In fact, for some reason, his intensity comforted me.

And excited me.

No one—ever—had looked at me with that kind of emotion, that kind of desire.

But then I remembered the source of it, so I leaned back in my chair, trying to keep my body casual even though my heart was racing.

He didn’t drop his hand. His arm didn’t even shift as I stared into his eyes and smiled.

“You really want your room that badly?” I asked.

He blinked, his brows dropping a millimeter before he refocused.

“I don’t give a fuck about the room, Alex. Unless, of course, you’re in it,” he said.

His voice was like silk across my skin, almost intoxicating, but I still didn’t take his hand.

“I’ve heard that you Wilders will go to any lengths to get what you want, but this…”

I didn’t think it was possible, but his face hardened, his expression becoming even more firm. “Give me your hand, Alex,” he said.

I found myself responding to the command in his voice, but by the time I realized it, my fingers had brushed his.

Pulling my hand away now would be impossible, but I stayed still, feeling like I was being shocked at the contact of my skin against his.

His thick fingers were warm, arousing…comforting.

I looked down at his hand, then back at his eyes, trying to figure out what was going on with me.

The flutter in my chest was leaving me breathless, but I forced out a smile as I locked eyes with his. “Noah, I’m way too big to get swept off my feet.”

No sooner than the words had left my mouth did I feel myself moving.

One minute I was in the chair.

The next, I was in Noah’s strong hold, my breasts crushed against his hard chest, one strong arm around my waist, the other tucked under my knees.

He stared down at me. “You just needed to meet the right man.”

I felt… What was the word for it?

Shocked, yes.

I hadn’t even dreamed of something like this because it seemed ridiculous.

Noah holding me like I was nothing, telling me with his words and his eyes how much he wanted me.

The strength of his arms, the scent that was his shower gel and just him, his warmth, all of it making me want to curl against him.

Stay there forever.

But I couldn’t.

Because I was suspicious.

I hated that, but I was.

Noah was rich, interesting, and so far outside of my league that it was a testament to happenstance that we even found ourselves in each other’s acquaintance.

But I reminded myself this was just gamesmanship on his part.

Whatever butterflies I was feeling were because Noah was dedicated to his weightlifting regime.

They meant nothing.

He sensed a change in me.

I could tell, because as he stared down at me, his expression turned.

Still intense, but some of the fire had been banked.

He lowered me to the floor, my body sliding along his.

My pussy was begging for him, and I felt like I was on a hair trigger.

I knew he could tell, just like I knew he was now focused on something else.

“What was that?” he asked when my feet touched the ground.

“What was what?” I responded, trying to pretend I wasn’t breathless.

I couldn’t allow myself to look away from his gaze, but from my periphery, I again took note of his tight T-shirt, the loose track pants, and bare, masculine feet.

“You probably don’t realize it,” he whispered.

I lifted a brow. “Realize what?”

He didn’t answer, at least not at first.

Instead, he tugged at one of the coils that had come out of my ponytail, then trailed his fingers along my cheek.

He brushed his thumb across my forehead, then let his fingers linger there.

“I can see that big brain of yours working,” he said.

“How do you know my brain is big?” I said, too late realizing I sounded like a fucking moron.

A slow, lazy smile crossed his face, showing off his adorable dimple. “Call it a hunch,” he said, his deep voice the most delicious rasp.

He stroked the space between my eyebrows again, his calloused thumb worrying my skin and driving me to distraction.

Alex, or at least the Alex that I thought I was, would have slapped his hand away.

Whoever this woman I was now wanted to beg for more.

But there was also curiosity at play, curiosity that I wanted to be satisfied.

“You were explaining something?” I asked.

“No, actually you were explaining something,” he said. “What happened there?”

I scoffed, suddenly feeling a spike of anger.

Went to move but was stopped by his hand on my shoulder.

His grip wasn’t tight, but even still, I could feel the strength in his hand and the way he held that strength in check.

It showed control, the kind I hadn’t expected from Noah, not when I had looked at him for the first time. When he’d come into my apartment, he’d seemed wild, but I realized now that that was a front.

Everything Noah did was calculating and calculated, which only made what he was doing now that much worse.

I felt a hot prick of tears, but I refused to let them fall.

Still, to think that I had been so stupid.

To think I had been on the verge of taking what he’d offered.

“It’s nothing. I just came to my senses,” I said, my voice lacking all inflection.

“About what?” he asked.

“For a second there, I believed you might actually…you know.”

“You know?” he said, the dimple appearing again as he pressed his full lips into a thin line.

I rolled my eyes. “You know,” I repeated.

He stood still, and even though he was a stranger to me, I somehow knew he wouldn’t move, wouldn’t do anything else at all until I gave in.

Still, I pushed back. “Are you insisting I say it?”

“Yes, I am,” he said.

I huffed. “Fine, dick. I was going to say I actually believed that you wanted me. But I should have known better, especially after?—”

I cut off quickly, glad that caught myself but knowing Noah hadn’t missed it.

“I would hope you believe it, because it’s true,” he said.

“And I’m supposed to believe your words?” I said.

“Look down, Alex,” he said, his voice rough.

I did, my gaze tracing his broad shoulders, muscular chest, chiseled stomach, and I couldn’t miss what he meant.

It was right there, nestled behind those track pants, all nine inches of it, I guessed anyway.

I had always been shit at math.

My entire body flushed with heat, but I shrugged. “So, what? You got a hard-on? Congratulations.”

That earned me a little half laugh, but he turned serious again. “Well, now that we’ve established that I do in fact want you…can you explain what that was?”

“We haven’t established anything except you’re capable of achieving an erection. That has nothing to do with me,” I said.

That got me a real smile this time, one that showed another that peek of the dimple hidden by the day’s stubble.

I couldn’t stop myself from imagining the way that stubble would feel against my skin, the scrape of his face against the inside of my thigh…

I looked away quickly, trying to clear my head before I went on. “I doubt it. But if the room’s that important to you, I’ll move my stuff,” I said.

“Alex, this isn’t about the room. Now answer my question,” he said.

I stared up at him again, feeling my brow furrow. “Why are you asking these questions?”

“I like talking to you,” he said.

Something told me there was more there, but I didn’t know what and couldn’t conceive of how to ask.

“You like me? You don’t even know me,” I said.

He tsked, and then stroked his thumb across my lips. “Wait. I didn’t say I like you. I said I like talking to you, and I definitely want to fuck you,” he said.

I laughed. “I appreciate the honesty,” I said.

“As I said, big brain. Smart enough to recognize what’s important,” he said.

“Yeah, telling the truth is paramount.”

“So tell me yours,” he said.

As he spoke, he grabbed my hand and led me to one of the living rooms.

This one had a television and a sectional that was huge enough to accommodate Noah and me.

He settled me down, planting me directly on his lap and settling me over that nine inches I knew would invade my dreams.

And for reasons I didn’t understand, I let him.

“I’m guessing this has something to do with those zero orgasms?” he asked.

“Oh God,” I said, rolling my eyes and then closing them, wanting to kick my own ass for saying that.

Noah tsked and rubbed his thumb against my cheek. “There’s nothing to be embarrassed about. Like I said before, you just need the right man for the job,” he said.

“And you think you’re him?” I said.

Whatever attitude had been in my voice was absolutely no deterrent for Noah at all.

“I know I’m him, and I’d be more than happy to prove that to you. But first, explain,” he said.

I shifted, wondering how I had so quickly gotten comfortable.

I had never, ever, in my entire life had a man treat me like this.

And Noah, for all intents and purposes, was a stranger to me. But sitting on his lap, his body solid, strong, warm underneath me felt right.

Felt like something that I could get used to.

And that was fucking terrifying.

So I shouldn’t waste any time scaring him off.

“Well it’s zero because I’ve only had sex five times,” I said.

Not even Birdie, the best friend I’d ever had, was privy to that piece of information.

I wasn’t exactly ashamed of it, just viewed it as more representative of my inadequacies, a topic I didn’t like to think about too much.

Noah didn’t blink.

“Well, say something,” I said after a long moment, one that was tense for me but seemed to have no effect on him.

“Keep going,” he said.

“You’re so fucking frustrating,” I said.

He let out a little laugh, the rumble rolling through his body and into mine.

“You are not the first person to tell me that,” he said, his smile drawing one of my own. “Now tell me the story.”

“There’s nothing to tell. I was in law school. Went out with the guy a couple times. Thought it was time to do the deed. And over the course of those encounters had a total of fifty of the most uninspiring minutes of my life,” I said.

“And you are happy with that?” Noah asked.

I huffed and looked down at him. “What the fuck kind of question is that?”

“My kind of question, so answer it,” he said.

As I’d been talking, he’d circled my hip with one of his hands, moving from the dip of my waist down over the curve of my hip and back again.

This level of touching, again, was something I was unfamiliar with.

But I liked it.

What other explanation could there be for me talking to him like this?

“Are you digging for information or something?” I asked, my attempt at putting up at least some level or resistance, which couldn’t count for much when I was straddling him and letting him touch me like it was completely normal.

“No. Like I said, I like talking to you. And you look like you could use someone to talk to.”

“So, you think I’m pathetic?”

He just chuckled, which made me frown. “Stop reading into shit, Alex. Trust me, if there’s something I need you to know, you’ll know. And you’ll never have to wonder where I stand,” he said.

“Fine. No, I wasn’t happy with it. But I can admit I was a little gun shy. And embarrassed. And then, as I’ve gotten older, I just feel…” I shrugged, not sure what else to say.

“I get it,” he said, giving me a reprieve that was both welcome and surprising.

“You do? Your sexual history consists of five boring at best experiences?” I said.

I was teasing, but he was completely serious in his response. “I have more than five, many of them utterly forgettable, so I understand that. There was no connection,” he said.

I looked at him and then asked the question I wasn’t sure I wanted to.

“And that’s what you’re offering me? A connection?” I asked.

He lowered his lids slightly, then met my eyes again. “A physical one, yes.”

“And that’s all?” I said.

“That’s all. I don’t have anything else to give,” he said.

“What a relief,” I responded.

He smiled, and I shrugged.

“What? Just because I’m a woman I’m supposed to get all caught up in my emotions?”

“No. I’ve just not ever met anyone quite like you,” he said.

“What does that mean?”

“It just means you’re stubborn, a headache, but also soft. In short, a contradiction,” he said.

“I’m not soft and not nearly interesting enough to be a contradiction. I’m as basic as they get,” I responded.

He shifted me until I was fully straddling his waist, then slammed my hips down until we were crotch to crotch.

His cock was solid between my thighs, and I rocked against him experimentally, having no idea what I was doing but loving the contact and the sensation.

“You really have no idea how beautiful you are, do you?”

His voice was soft, almost reverent. As he spoke, he cupped my face in his hands, then he moved down, stroked my neck, down my shoulder, over my breasts, down my belly, back up again.

“I guess not, so I’ll have to take your word for it,” I said.

“No, you don’t,” he said, his eyes fierce. “Let me show you.”

He pushed my hips down again, leaned forward, and captured my mouth in a kiss.