The Bet Read online

  She scooted out from under his arm, shooting him a narrow glare.

  “That’s not needed,” she said pertly, adjusting in her seat to sit as far away from him as the seat would allow.

  He just rolled his eyes, then faced the screen as previews rolled through. She didn’t think that would be the last of his attempts to touch her. Unfortunately, since the second she had stepped out of her Bimmer to see this gawky man waiting for her, he’d tried everything he could to lay a hand on her.

  She stared down at her purse, lips pressed. She was really going to be forced to sit through this movie, next to this...thing. She should have just left. There was only so much kindness she could have within her, and when she had caught him staring down her shirt, his hand covering his junk, that had been the final straw.

  Even now, she could feel his eyes moving between her and the screen, could see his hand covering his junk.

  As she resettled her purse on her lap, she took slow breaths, fighting for patience. Punching him in the face and storming away sounded all too appealing, but that wasn’t how she handled things. No, she handled them matter-of-factly, quickly, efficiently. And if there wasn’t a way to do that in this instance, why couldn’t there at least be a way to filter out the scent of BO and fish.

  Damn it, she should just leave. If she stayed through the whole movie, she was going to have to throw away this outfit. There would be no salvaging it. The BO would be too embedded into the threads that not even bleaching would help.

  “So, what do you do for a job?” His voice broke through her thoughts like nails on a chalkboard. It was like he was speaking out of his nose, the nasally sound making her cringe. “Hey. What do you do for a job?”

  She stared straight ahead. Bristol couldn’t find it in herself to look at him. Call her a bitch, but this was just...too much. The whole situation was simply too much for her.

  The only consolation out of all of this was that she had the option to look away from him. If she didn’t have to look at him, that might help her cope.

  Might.

  When he moved that much closer to her, obviously trying to get her to answer, her eye twitched. If she didn’t give an answer, it was only going to get worse. And worse. And worse.

  “I work with a distribution center,” she said vaguely. The words sounded forced even to her, but it was better to answer now than put up with more digging later. She didn’t need it to get out that the first female CEO of Roderick Rhodes, Inc. was on a date. At the movies. With a pervert.

  She shuddered.

  When he leaned toward her, his elbow on her armrest, she angled her face away from him and inhaled, struggling to breathe through both the stench and his proximity. Couldn’t he see that she was uncomfortable? That she wanted her own space? Did no one understand personal space anymore?

  “That’s cool. I work at home—”

  “That’s really nice,” she interrupted, nodding her head. The less she knew about him, the easier it would be to forget all of this. She forced herself to give him a tight smile. “I would really just like to watch the previews, thank you.”

  “Sure, sure.”

  He turned toward the screen again, and she thought it was over. She thought he would have caught on and taken the hint.

  But she was wrong. So very, very wrong.

  With growing horror, she watched from the corner of her eye as he took the edge of the armrest and pulled it back.

  Quicker than she had time to register it, she lunged to her feet, clutching her purse against her chest. What the hell was wrong with this guy?

  “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  She stared at him in amazement. Did he really not know? Was he that dense? Obviously, he was, because as she stared down at him with a mixture of disbelief and disgust, he looked all too confused.

  “If I’m going to watch a movie with you, I need to establish boundaries.”

  He frowned through the greasy strands of his hair. “Boundaries?”

  “Yes. Boundaries.” She inhaled, fighting for patience. When she spoke, she had to mentally restrain herself from screeching. She was repeating common sense to him, something every human should possess. Somehow, he had missed out on the memo.

  “Rule one, don’t touch me. Rule two, don’t touch my armrest—”

  “I was only going to make more room for us—”

  “There isn’t an us,” she said coldly, holding her hand up. “There really isn’t. I obviously want my personal space, so please respect it.”

  “Fine,” he snapped, relaxing into his own chair with a roll of his eyes. “Whatever, princess. You’re so stuck-up.”

  She didn’t respond. With her purse clutched to her chest, her only form of defense, she gingerly sat down again, mind racing. She should leave. She should be packing herself up and storming out of there. He was acting way too entitled for her liking.

  Now, normally, she liked a man who took control of the situation. She was used to being in control over everything. Her life, her job, her employees. She was just used to being in charge. Sometimes, when the right man came along, it was easy to let him take over. She didn’t mind being dominated, didn’t mind having her choices taken from her in the heat of the moment—but this was no such instance.

  He had lied to her. There was no way he was a lawyer, there was no way the man in the picture was close to anything like the one sitting beside her. There was no way any part of his profile was true, and even if it was, she liked when her bed partners took a shower every day!

  So focused on her furious mental rant, she didn’t notice the two men walking into the theater until her eyes landed on them—or rather, him.

  The man from earlier.

  The rough, dark man that had held her eyes with no reserve. The one who had instantly brought back the pent-up desire the catfish had managed to suck out like a vampire drained blood.

  God dammit, if only he had been her date for the night.

  Bristol wasn’t a short woman by any means, but standing next to him… She’d felt tiny. Vulnerable. Delicate.

  As their eyes met for the second time, that same hot, almost desperate need for release came back. She forgot all about her screwed up night and focused only on the man who was staring right back at her.

  She vaguely realized his blonde friend standing beside him was speaking, but by then, the dark haired man was striding toward her.

  Bristol sat straighter, clutching her purse, eyes trained on him.

  God damn, the way he walked. The way he carried himself. The way he was looking at her. A mixture of determination, arrogance, and the hint of a grin at his perfectly full lips, it all had her body burning. The hot sensation started in her gut. It had her breasts tingling. It had the hair on the back of her neck standing.

  It had her reacting in all the ways she craved, and in all the ways she feared.

  She should just leave. She should just go to her bar, pick up a guy, and get this out of her before she jumped the next gorgeous man she saw—because she was desperately close to doing that right now.

  It didn’t help that he was still walking toward her, his presence filling the entire theater—or maybe it just seemed that way because of how focused she was. She could hear the catfish beside her trying to speak, but she didn’t care.

  She was too busy focusing on the man.

  The man that was walking toward her row, every step carrying him closer—closer to her row, closer to her.

  Chapter Four

  Clad in dark jeans, a black shirt, and a black leather jacket that somehow fit impossibly wide shoulders, he was like her darkest fantasy come to life. His beard was exactly how she liked it—dark and full, but trimmed. Obviously well kept. His hair was perfect as well. Deep brown and long enough to run her hands through; it was longer at the front and naturally curly. The sides of his hair was cut short and close.

  Basically, he was everything she envisioned in a man, and when she breathed in, the musky, sharp scent confirme
d it.

  He was perfect.

  And she was blocking his way, she realized, drawing back her legs quickly—until he sat down in the seat beside her.

  Okay, yeah, no, she wasn’t blocking his way.

  He was right where he wanted to be.

  She exhaled on a shudder, heat coursing through her just as quickly as the growing excitement. What there was to be excited about, she didn’t know—but she was. She was excited and intrigued, and oh God…that scent… That was the scent she liked.

  Correction, that was the scent she loved.

  She bit her lip.

  None of that should matter. She could like it all she wanted, but that wouldn’t change that this was not the place to pick up a guy—especially since the man she was on a “date” with was sitting next to her. Yeah, she could daydream about it all she wanted, but to do it right now? That wouldn’t help her. At all. No, it would make matters worse—make her “issues” worse.

  So what did she do?

  She focused on the screen. On the movie. She had to, because one more second spent thinking about the man beside her, and she might actually jump him.

  The man’s friend sat beside him, another reason why she couldn’t jump him. The lights dimmed around them, the screen went black for a split second, and then the movie began.

  Thankfully, her “date” didn’t try anything else. He kept his body parts to himself, and she sat there, silently suffering, mind reeling.

  Out of all the places he had chosen to sit, he had sat next to her. Had held eyes with her twice. Had not even tried to turn her on and had still set her body on fire.

  She had no one to blame but herself for this, she thought angrily. She had a schedule for herself, a strict schedule that, if not followed, had some bad consequences. At least once a month, she went to the bar. She found a guy. She had long, hot, hard sex. She got it all out. All the stress, all the anger, everything. It all came out during the sex, and normally a month after that, she was craving release again.

  Her job wasn’t easy. If it weren’t for the fact that she had worked so hard to get where she was now, she would have left a long time ago.

  While she loved her job, she also hated it. Hated the demands, both mental and physical, hated the rumors, the harassment from the sexist board members who never gave her a break. Not only that, but she hated when major complications came up. She knew it all came with the job description, but really. Sometimes, it was too much.

  Like earlier today, the numbers to the cargo company they had just signed on with weren’t adding up right. She’d gotten the email from her accountant this afternoon, and with her putting her own needs off for too long, the stress had been too much.

  She had planned on getting her release tonight and then addressing the issue with her accountant tomorrow…and with the way the night had gone, she was still going to handle it all tomorrow, but without taking care of herself first.

  Life...was grand.

  Yeah, no.

  Not really.

  Life sucked.

  Starting to feel a little more secure in that she wasn’t going to get any unwanted advances, she loosened her grip on her purse and leaned into her chair. If she happened to lean closer to the gorgeous man who had sat next to her, sue her.

  His scent was a lot more bearable than the guy’s on her right, and there was nothing she could do about that except not puke...which meant she was leaning towards the object of her fascination.

  And he was fascinating.

  Something about him just called to her. Maybe it was because she was horny to the point of being in heat. Maybe it was because when she looked at him, he returned the stare; no shame, no subterfuge, no holding back. Maybe it was because all it would have taken was leaning in five inches for what would most likely be a mind blowing kiss.

  There was just something—and right now was not the place for whatever that something was, so she faced the screen, forcing herself to act like a normal human.

  Despite her determination, it was nearly impossible to focus on the movie. Fortunately, the more she thought about the movie, the easier it was to watch it. She just had to keep men off of her mind...which she sucked at.

  She did a pretty good job for the most part. The more Chris Pratt played on the screen, the easier it was to stay focused. Her gaze wandered less and less, and some of the heat inside of her died down.

  That is, until she saw the movement from the corner of her eye.

  At first, it was easy to assume the movement came from the catfish. He had been making sneaky advances the whole time, so what else was she to expect?

  She scooted farther away from him, which pushed her right into the armrest that separated her and the dark haired man—which made it apparent that it was not the other guy making the movements, but the one she was close to sitting on.

  His arm went around the back of the chair, just barely touching her hair. If she had tried to fit her arm over the top of the leather chairs, it wouldn’t have worked. But with him...and his height...and how large he was...it worked out. Perfectly. To make matters worse—or rather, better—he lounged back, his ankle resting on his opposite knee.

  She covertly cast him a glance.

  From her other side, she belatedly noticed her “date” turn his head toward them. She really didn’t care what he thought at this point. She was pissed, uncomfortable, horny, and a tad desperate.

  She focused on the movie again, crossing her legs at the ankles and adjusting her purse on her lap. That was really all she could do, because the only other option was to jump the man next to her.

  It seemed to work... At least, that’s what she thought until that arm came down. With a sigh, he deftly lifted the armrest...then his face was next to hers, his lips just barely brushing against her ear. She couldn’t help the shudder, couldn’t help the way her hair stood up on her arms.

  “You’re worthless—just like her. You don’t deserve anything. Who would want you? Why would he?”

  She shook the voice out of her head. The twisted memory, the insecurities. She forced them back, out of the way. Her past was going to stay that way—far away and out of reach, especially right now.

  “Hope you don’t mind. These chairs don’t fit everyone,” he whispered, his breath caressing her cheekbone. His voice...it was as entrancing as the effect he had on her.

  She angled her head toward him, and the shift had their lips literally centimeters from each other. All of her thoughts slid away, replaced by a singular objective. If she just leaned in…

  Oh, god, his eyes were deep, nearly black. They drew her. Lured her in like a moth to a flame. The call rumbled through her like a predatory growl, but instead of being afraid, she was...mesmerized. How did a man’s voice do that to her?

  Oh, right. She held off on release for almost two months. That’s how.

  “That’s okay,” she murmured, looking at him through her lashes. So tempting. It was so tempting to just lean the hell in.

  He would probably taste the same as he smelled. Musky, manly. Strong. Commanding.

  She bit her lip.

  So many things in life were out of reach. Having one of the most prestigious jobs in her field wasn’t, and yet, somehow, this was. If only they’d met at the bar. If only they weren’t in a god damn movie theater. She would bet her life savings she could get him in bed if they were anywhere but here.

  The man she had shown up to the movies for, the one that should have been her date, cleared his throat. “I’m going to the bathroom. Be right back.”

  She didn’t even acknowledge him. If he felt awkward about all of this, good. Maybe next time he wouldn’t catfish someone.

  Bristol sighed, letting her head fall back and her body slouch for the first time since waking up that morning. She had been up since five a.m., just like every morning. Shower, eat, grab a coffee from Starbucks, then head to RR, Inc. Go to meetings with the board of directors, answer emails, take calls to her sub-companies, deal wit
h employee complaints and relations, and then do it all over again. On a normal day, she wasn’t out of the office until six—and that was with her doing additional work from home.

  Don’t even get her started on what a busy day looked like. Just the thought of it made her tense up.

  Right now, all she wanted to do was lean back. Relax. Take her mind off things.

  With the catfish gone, it was easier to do all of that—until a large, hot hand landed on her leg.

  She jumped, eyes snapping to the man from beside her, their eyes connecting again. Inhaling slowly, she debating whether she should push his hand off or not, whether she should break their gaze or not.

  She might sleep with random men, but it was once a month, and all in a safe, controlled environment. She always used protection, never had sex in bathrooms, and never took her eyes off her drink.

  Letting a man touch her in a dark theater was breaching whore territory, wasn’t it? Or was it right in line with what she normally did, just in a different setting? She didn’t have a boyfriend, so she wasn’t sleeping around, and she always had protection on her—birth control and a condom—and always, always made sure she was in a safe environment. When all of that was taken care of, only then she could get her fuck on without worry and feel all the better for it in the morning.

  That wouldn’t be the case tonight.

  She was going to go home. Aching. Tense. Bothered as all get out.

  Partly because of her own stupidity, and partly because the man sitting next to her was doing nothing, yet still managing to affect her in ways she wouldn’t recover from until she found release.

  Desperation was a pitiful thing.

  And that’s the only reason she didn’t push his hand off.

  She needed something. Anything. Anything to help her cope with going back to work tomorrow with double the workload. Anything to help her get her shit together. Bristol had no clue what was going to happen by letting his hand stay there, but damn her, she was interested in finding out, and she let him know that.

  Sinking further into her seat, she let her thighs relax, a sign that she was going to welcome him. Her date was gone for the time being, and the more she thought about it, the more intriguing everything became.