The Stand-In Read online

  Stroke. Stroke. Tap. “Oh my God!”

  “I know,” replied Sunshine. “Best night ever, right? I hope you two will stay until the bitter end and have some more to eat. There’s lots of Flying Dutchman to go around.”

  Stroke. Tap. Tap. Stars appeared before her eyes as she swallowed her cry. She clenched her mouth, knowing she’d scream if she opened it.

  “Actually,” Patrick spoke for her. “We’re heading out now.” Stroke. Stroke. “Winn’s worn out. I need to get her into bed.” He slid his finger inside her and it was all she could do not to gyrate in place.

  “No sweat. It’s been a long day. Have fun, you two!” Sunshine smiled and danced away, hollering for her groom.

  Patrick took the opportunity to give her what looked like a comforting hug. He laid her head on his shoulder but under the table, he upped the ante.

  “Close your eyes,” he whispered, kissing her cheek. “Pretend you’re a tired bridesmaid. Now come for me.”

  His touch increased in pressure, smoothing over her mound with fervor. As the tidal wave knocked her off her feet and face first into the sand, her last vestige of common sense and propriety flew away. A crazed whimper rang out in her head.

  She must have squeaked aloud. He rubbed her back with his other hand. “Shh, baby. When I get you home, you can make all the noise you want. In fact, I encourage it.”

  He brought her to completion and she sighed into his shoulder, feeling so good but so dirty. What had they done? What had she done? She’d never been the sort to lose control. And in public?

  As her body quivered with its last slow tremors, Patrick did not remove his hand. Rather, as if still exploring, as if wanting to drive her madder, he slid his fingers through each wet ruffle of skin. He teased her anew and once again her pelvis began its dance of sweet restlessness.

  With a groan, he pulled his hand away. As she dared to face him, he grinned and brought his wet fingers to his mouth, licking the tips. “Goddammit, Winn. That was so hot. I’m harder than I’ve ever been.”

  She dared to look at his lap, at the unmistakable bulge. She swallowed past the lump in her throat. “You might have trouble smuggling that big boy outta here.”

  “I might have trouble not dragging you into the back room.” He picked up his hat and wig and stood, letting his hat camouflage his erection. He held out his other hand. “Come home with me.”

  She gaped at him. Surely this was wrong. Hell, if she slept with him, she’d be breaking Margie’s number one rule about no hookups. To say nothing of the fact Patrick was supposed to be writing an article about her work. This had to be some sort of ethical no-no.

  “I know, Winn. I know what you’re thinking. It’s wrong on a number of different levels. And you know what? Tonight, I just don’t fucking care.”

  She looked at the envelope in her hands, the one with her payment for the evening. She’d worked hard to maintain her professionalism on the job. What she’d already done with Patrick could compromise her work.

  But then she thought of Shithead Mike. She thought of the way her dad dallied with Amber, making a mockery of his marriage. She remembered the misery of being left at the altar and of questioning her worth for nigh on a year. In that moment, her memory dredged up every humiliating audition she’d ever endured.

  And she decided she needed to feel good for once. A ten-dollar tube of lipstick hadn’t done the trick. She needed more. After his display under the tablecloth, she knew Patrick had the ability to make her feel really good.

  It was just sex. It didn’t have to happen again, although she wouldn’t rule out the possibility if the rest of his body proved as talented as his middle finger.

  “Actually,” she said, throwing all her damn caution to the fucking wind. “Tonight, I don’t care either.”

  Chapter 7

  Patrick barely remembered the drive home. He knew he’d obeyed the laws of the road, and thankfully hadn’t run anyone down in his haste to leave the Coral Reef, but beyond that, the journey was a muddle. He’d barely stopped thinking of Winn long enough to plan his route, and somehow the blinking city lights had just led him home. Thank Christ for that.

  Even now, as he got out of the Mazda, slamming his door, he imagined how it would feel to sink into her sweet heat. As he opened her door for her, her perfume teased and he fought the urge to lay her down in the car. Unfortunately, the Mazda was too compact. He made a mental note to make his next vehicle a limo.

  His hands shaking, he helped her out of the car and they walked hand in hand toward the door of his townhome. He hoped his nosy neighbors weren’t home this evening because he planned to elicit a lot of loud noises from Winn. Hell, he hoped to make a few himself.

  As they got to his door, both of them very quiet, he shoved his key in the lock and turned. He knew he should feel more conflicted about this. He should have gone to Jake as soon as he realized his attraction to Winn. And now that he could admit it, he knew he’d been attracted from the get-go. Not in a frivolous, I’ll-call-you-sometime kind of way. Really attracted. Goddamn hypnotized. Even more so now that he’d seen the beauty of her stifled orgasm. He should have washed his hands of the assignment and worked his other contacts. Besides, he honestly didn’t think the readers of Player would give a shit about a story featuring bridesmaids. Not unless it featured a naked spread of said bridesmaids.

  No, he’d allow himself a small dose of fun with Winn and then he’d politely tell Jake to shove his ridiculous assignment. He would then crawl back to Dietrich and beg him for his old job, or even a job in the mail room at the Torontonian. He simply wasn’t Player material, not in life and not in his work. No matter what the world thought of him.

  Okay, Paddy. Mull over your job prospects later. Winn is about to get naked for you.

  He locked the door behind them and leaned back against it, watching as she moved into the living space.

  “You have a gorgeous home,” she murmured, running her hand along the back of the leather couch.

  He glanced around as she surveyed the scene and immediately saw any number of surfaces on which he’d like to lay her naked body. The kitchen island. The wooden coffee table. The carpeted stairs leading to the second floor. So many possibilities. “Thanks.” He dropped his keys on the hall table. “So, do you want a drink or something?”

  She turned to face him, her brow etched in worry, even as hope danced in her eyes. “No. I, um…you’re the first since Mike. I’m a little nervous.”

  He put his hand over his mouth. “Jesus, Winn. You haven’t had sex in over a year and I diddled you under a table at a pirate wedding. I am a lothario.”

  Her laughter, so musical, tinkled its way right into a previously unused corner of his heart. Seeing her smile, he felt better.

  She moved to him, her pirate bangles jingling on her arm. “In case you couldn’t tell, I enjoyed being diddled.” She put her hand on his arm. “Very much. I didn’t realize how much I needed a diddling.”

  His cock throbbed, almost in time to his pounding heart, and he pulled her into his arms. “I think we can do better than a quick grope under a tablecloth. C’mere, gorgeous.”

  Their mouths met, hot and frantic. She opened to him before he could even tickle her lips apart with his tongue. All he had to do was touch her tongue and his world began to melt into hers. A riot of sensation assaulted his body. Her soft heat enveloped him, making his cock feel like a rod of iron. Her powdery perfume filled his nostrils, the perfect accent to her natural feminine scent. And fuck, she tasted like heaven. She’d been drinking cranberry juice and lime all night, and a sweet hint of citrus still flavored her lips. He flicked his tongue at the corners of her mouth. Delicious.

  As their breathing patterns hitched, as their kisses grew deeper, he knew he had to touch her. He dug his hands into her locks, playing with her pirate ringlets, and pulled with gentle force, exposing her neck. She let out a squeal, but not of pleasure, of pain. Patrick stopped kissing her and looked. A chunk of her
hair had tangled with her dangly earrings, snagging her lobe. “Oh, Jesus. I almost mutilated your ear. I’m sorry.”

  Fuck. His hands shook every time he got close to her. At this rate, he’d tear her lobe a new hole.

  Holding onto her lobe, she let out a soft laugh. “I’m okay. It only stung for a second.” She released her ear, discreetly checking for blood on her fingers, and then shrugged. “I guess these pirate getups aren’t practical for hot and heavy moments.”

  A rosy blush spread across her cheeks and he spied its slow progress as it meandered down her neck and touched her collarbone. So beautiful. Gripped by an emotion he couldn’t quite place, he touched her ear. “Let me take these off for you.”

  Her gaze met his, nervous and wide-eyed. He held it as he slowly detached the earring from her sore ear. After setting it on a table, he then worked on the second one. Her lobes, so velvety and small, invited his lips to taste. Her nostrils flared as he removed the second earring and she sucked in a breath. So she liked having someone play with her ears. Awesome. He enjoyed playing with them.

  Once he discarded the other earring, he reached around her waist and pulled her against his torso. Her hands slid behind his neck, into his puffy shirt, massaging the muscles at the top of his back. Damn. So good. He leaned in and captured her earlobe between his lips and sucked. As he tickled his ear with his tongue, she mewled, arching against him, responding to him with an energy so sensual he nearly shot his load.

  “Winn,” he uttered close to her ear. “I need to get you naked.”

  “Hurry,” she whispered.

  He pulled back and eyed her in appreciation. “Sorry, sweetheart. I don’t plan to rush this. Not by a long shot.”

  He backed her up against the wall and kissed her, tasting the tempting hint of cranberry again. As his head swam, he rolled his hips against hers and she spread her legs to accommodate him. He could already picture himself, taking her against the same wall, their clothes strewn on the floor.

  No. Go slowly. She deserved as much.

  Even as he tried to slow his progress, it proved difficult. He couldn’t remember the last time he wanted a woman so much. Couldn’t quite recall this level of hunger or his knees knocking during any other kiss. Everything about Winn, her softness, her scent, those cock-teasing whimpers, seemed programmed to drive him wild. He wanted to see this play out like a dog wanting to chase a bouncy ball in the park.

  But he really needed to ditch the pirate clothes.

  Dropping his hands to her waist, he pulled at her blouse, freeing it from her waistband. One tug, two tugs, and smooth skin greeted his fingers. Damn. It seemed every inch of her was softer than the one before.

  “You, my saucy wench,” he said, looping his fingers in her waistband, “have been clothed long enough.”

  “And you, my rakish buccaneer?”

  “We’ll get to that.” Patrick acknowledged the greed burning a hole in the pit of his stomach. He wanted to see her first. Needed to see her.

  Not bothering with her buttons, he lifted her blouse up over her shoulders and head. He took a moment to appraise her, wanting to remember her at every stage of undress. Her white bra, while pretty and lacy, had seen better days. Something pinged in his chest as he suspected Winn might not be the sort of woman to treat herself often. It made him want to run out and buy her the contents of the nearest lingerie store.

  Most of the women he’d dated, most of the ones at his former office, always dressed to the nines. Fancy shoes, barely there lingerie, designer clothes. And yet he was struck by her natural beauty, the kind that didn’t need a lot of ornamentation.

  She crossed her arms over her chest. “It’s an old bra. I didn’t realize anyone would see it tonight.”

  He pried her arms from her chest. “You look amazing. So beautiful I can’t quite catch my breath.”

  “Hey. I’m the one with panic attacks, not you.”

  “Yeah, about that…”

  “Patrick, just kiss me before I lose my nerve.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He took her mouth, not wanting to think anymore. He just wanted to feel. Cupping her breasts, palming their weight, he tugged and revealed the soft globes underneath. Cursing, he lowered his head and captured one delicious nipple in his mouth, moving with languor from one to the other.

  Winn held his head in place, writhing against him. He rolled her nipple between his lips and then used his teeth to suckle with gentle abrasion.

  “Yes,” she said on a hiss.

  He raised his head for a second to gaze at her, only to see her eyes closed, her lip caught between her teeth. The sexiest thing he'd ever seen and he'd done it to her with a few well-placed nibbles.

  What would happen when he was inside her?

  Despite his intention to make her wait, to torment the hell out of her, he wondered if he'd last the next hour. Hell, the next few minutes.

  Disconcerting thoughts considering he wanted to fuck her all night long.

  * * * *

  Winn opened her eyes at the loss of Patrick's teeth on her nipple. He stared at her, his eyes impossibly dark and curious, as if he'd never glimpsed her species before. "Patrick?"

  He uttered no response. Instead, he reached behind her and unclasped her bra and then slid it off her. He went to work on her skirt, unzipping it at the back and shimmying it down her hips. At the sight of her panties, the muscle in his jaw ticked. With determination lining his brow, he crouched before her and slowly removed her panties, dragging them down her legs and right off her tall pirate boots. He fingered the scrap of fabric for a moment, his gaze locked on her, and then tossed the undies to the floor.

  She leaned over to remove her boots but he put his hand on hers.

  "Don't. Keep the boots on."

  She let out a nervous giggle. "Pirate fantasy?"

  "Call it whatever you want, but they stay on." Patrick urged her legs apart.

  She sucked in a breath as he leaned in. His fingers grazed her pussy and then, oh, his mouth. Hot and wet and hungry. Winn's knees buckled but he supported her. Digging her nails into his back, she held on as he devoured her. A glide between swollen lips. A gentle tug. And just as her nerve endings almost exploded from the most sensuous kiss any man had ever given her, he circled her clit with his lips and sucked.

  "Jesus, God," she cried.

  He kept sucking, but she heard his evil chuckle. “Now, now,” he whispered against her skin. “I’m just getting started. Hold on.”

  A long, slow lick along her seam led to more suckling and her body rioted with sensation. Her nipples might have been rocks, they were so hard. Her head raced with the sexual imagery of the moment. Patrick Lincoln, man-candy extraordinaire, on his knees before her. The pressure in her womb, growing more violent by the second, demanded release. Demanded it now. And yet every time her orgasm issued another silky threat, Patrick pulled back, dropping sweet kisses on her inner thigh.

  It was as if he understood her body and wanted to draw out the most wonderful anguish she’d ever experienced. The bastard. He totally knew what he was doing to her. He knew she needed to come, needed it months ago, and he insisted on taking his sweet time about it.

  She let him feel her nails, scraping his shoulder. “Patrick, please.”

  He licked at her clit, released her and sat back on his haunches. “What was that, sweetheart?”

  “I…I need to come.”

  He stood, his gaze locked on her. “I know.” He grinned, his lips wet with her moisture. Leaning in, he said, “But I’m going to make you wait. And when you come…bang. I’m going to destroy you, Winn.”

  Destroy her. Like Mike did?

  Panic seized her being, wrapping its greedy fingers around her throat, but she forced down a breath. Patrick didn’t mean it that way. He meant it in the good, knock-your-socks-off sense, and she had no doubt he’d deliver, based on the data available to her.

  Even still, something in the word made her shiver, made her fear. Destroy. How many tim
es had she sat in the dark, knowing Mike had destroyed her? How many times had she used the exact same terminology to describe the aftermath?

  Something told her Patrick had the same ability. That he possessed an arsenal of emotional weapons programmed to destroy lesser beings. She already suspected he could wound her with a smile. She already knew he could kill her with an offhand remark. Men like him didn’t get dumped. They were the dumpers in life. They chewed women up and spit them on the street.

  What was she doing here? Stricken by light-headedness, Winn closed her eyes.

  He must have noticed. “Winn. Are you okay? You just got pale.”

  She cracked open her lids and regarded him through stinging eyes. “I’m fine.”

  He passed a hand over her now-mussed hair, a gesture laden with gentleness, the same concern in his gaze. “You sure? Let me get you to the bed. It’s the least I can do after mauling you against the wall.”

  His crooked smile made her want to cry.

  Who was this man? Why did he make her heart race? She’d stopped her heart with purpose a year ago, determined never to hear its excited beat again. Sure enough, she’d never heard more than a quiet murmur, but in Patrick’s presence, it galloped and jumped and did cartwheels.

  Danger, danger, said her brain, like a flashing sign.

  Before she could interpret her addled feelings, he picked her up in his arms like a romance-novel cover model, and carried her into the bedroom. With care, he deposited her on the bed and sat next to her, once more running a hand through her manufactured ringlets. “I’m sorry if I came on too strong. I know it’s been a while for you, but you make me crazy.”

  “I do?”

  He cocked an eyebrow. “Maybe it’s time I show you exactly what you do to me.” He stood and removed his disheveled pirate attire. Off went the fancy jacket. Off went the boots. By the time he got to the white shirt, unlacing it slowly for her benefit, she was ready to explode. She watched, gulping at each patch of skin he revealed, marveling at the tiny hairs on his chest and the lean muscles underneath. The whole time he disrobed, his gaze roamed over her body, in appreciation of her breasts and hips and sex. He pulled his shirt over his head and slid out of his tight trousers.