The Next Play: Part One Read online

  Opening his eyes, he rubbed his jaw as he leaned back in his chair, trying to pinpoint when his irritation with the cute blonde had started. Strangely, he hadn’t really even noticed her when she first came to work at Atlas, a little over three months ago, just after Denny and Gabe became official. When Gabe had requested that Denny cut back her hours at the office, so that they could have more time together, Jocelyn had been hired on part-time.

  Denny loved her. Gabe treated her like the little sister he never had. And while the rest of the guys Jonah owned the company with didn’t seem to know her well, it was clear they all thought she was a great addition to the staff.

  It was just Jonah that she rubbed the wrong way—and, to be honest, she didn’t seem any more taken with him. Most of the time she just looked right through him. And, yeah, that was part of the reason he found her so damn irritating.

  The rest of the time, when she was forced to acknowledge his existence, like today, she always tried to keep as much distance between them as she could, as if she were afraid to get too close to him. And that just pissed him the hell off.

  Women fucking loved him and loved being around him. As they damn well should. His heart might be made of ice, but that didn’t mean he treated women like shit. And while he would never be relationship material, that didn’t mean that he blamed all women for what one particular bitch had taught him. On the contrary, he loved making women feel good. Loved making them smile. Making them laugh. So what was Jocelyn Brenna’s problem?

  And why couldn’t he get her out of his goddamn head?

  Leaning forward, Jonah braced his elbows on the table and steepled his hands together, resting his fingers against his mouth. Not even trying to hide the fact that he was staring at her, he exhaled a harsh breath that she completely ignored, her pale brows drawn with concentration as her feminine fingers flew over her keyboard. He was about to open his mouth and goad her into paying him some attention, when the messaging screen on his laptop popped up, catching his attention.

  Lucas: WTH? You look like a dog getting ready to beg for a bone. Only…you’ve already got the bone!

  Sliding his gaze to the side, Jonah glared at the jackass, silently warning him to the cut the bullshit. But Lucas just scrubbed a hand over his short, blond beard, grinned, and started typing out another message.

  Lucas: Stop acting like you can’t stand her, ‘cause you’re not fooling anyone. Especially me. I’ve never seen you want to get inside a woman so badly.

  Jonah lowered his head, closed his eyes again, and blew out a frustrated breath. He hated admitting it, but he couldn’t keep lying to himself. Little Miss Uptight Brenna wasn’t just under his skin. No, she was all the way inside him, twisting shit up, screwing with his head, and she had been for a long time now. And she was doing it all without ever having spoken more than a dozen words to him when they were alone.

  Yeah, he might not have paid her much attention that first week she was at Atlas, when he’d barely caught a glimpse of her on a couple of occasions. But when her second week started, and he had the pleasure of finding her on her own in the break room early one morning, something had…happened. It was the first time he’d been face to face with her, that beautiful, wary green gaze locked tight with his, and there’d been no ignoring her after that. Something about the little blonde had landed its claws in him, and now he couldn’t shake it loose.

  Christ, she even shot into his head when he was at Vane, just like she’d first done all those weeks ago, on the night he’d fucked Jenny and Monica. He’d been surprised as hell when it’d happened—but even more surprising was how he’d kept finding himself thinking about golden curls and big green eyes that night. Especially seeing as how the Diamond had turned out to be a hell of a lot more crowded on that occasion than he’d planned, since Lucas had brought along a surprise guest.

  But even then, Jocelyn Brenna had been in Jonah’s head, refusing to be ignored. And she’d been there so many times since, it was seriously starting to screw with his peace of mind.

  It wasn’t even the girl’s looks that had him so wound up, though she was definitely beautiful. But he’d had beautiful women at his beck and call for years now. Which meant that it took a hell of a lot more than a pretty face to make him stand up and take notice. It was just… Damn it, it sounded insane, but every-fucking-thing about the woman drew him in. Her scent. Her shy smiles. Her unmistakably feminine way of moving, and that husky voice that could have earned her millions in the phone sex business. Even her laugh was addictive.

  On top of all that, she had a curvy body that would look fucking fine underneath him. And a face that had stolen his breath, that first time he’d been able to soak her in. To take in the long eyelashes and flawless skin. The delicate features and lush mouth that was made for sin.

  Unfortunately, that initial meeting hadn’t gone well. Not even a little.

  For the life of him, he didn’t understand why. He’d introduced himself and given her his most charming smile, only to have her murmur a hasty “Nice to meet you,” and then she was gone. She’d made it clear that she wasn’t interested in him—not even in a friendly way—and months later, that hadn’t changed.

  Jonah, however, was starting to feel like a goddamn pressure cooker that was ready to blow.

  The night before, he’d even chosen someone who looked a bit like her to join him for an hour of fun in the Diamond. Golden blond hair, petite in height, with killer curves that’d filled his hands. But while the woman—he thought her name was something like Sadie or Cadie—had been beautiful, sinking into her hadn’t made his pulse rush half as fast as it was at that moment, with Jocelyn sitting close enough that he could count the small freckles sprinkled over her nose.

  He’d have paid a bloody fortune to learn why that was. Why this one little shrew affected him so powerfully.

  At the end of his patience with her silent treatment, he cleared his throat and nudged her foot under the table with his. When she raised her head and gave him a wary look, he asked, “Long night, Miss Brenna?”

  Confusion clouded her gaze. “I’m sorry,” she murmured, “but I don’t understand.”

  Jonah smirked. “I was just wondering if you had a late night last night. You look worn out.”

  “Smooth,” Lucas coughed into his fist, earning him a quick scowl.

  “Yes, it was a long, late night,” he heard her say in a tight voice, and by the time Jonah swung his gaze back her way, she was already ignoring him again, her attention focused completely on her computer as she resumed typing.

  Something hot and ugly twisted through his gut at her confession, making the scowl on his face settle even deeper. He wondered who the lucky bastard was that had kept her up all night. Wondered if the guy had done right by her, spending hours with his face buried between her creamy thighs, eating her out until she’d clawed at the sheets and begged for his cock.

  Did the jackass even know how to make her beg?

  Or did Miss Brenna only like to fuck with the lights off and under the covers? Christ. If Jonah hadn’t been so pissed off, the thought would have made him laugh. Because if that was her thing, then she was going to be in for one hell of a rude awakening if he ever managed to get his hands on her. Hiding would be the last thing he let her do.

  No, if he had his way and finally got the chance to screw her out of his system, he’d take her prim little ass to Vane. And once he had her there, under the warm glow of lights in the Diamond, he’d make sure to plug her ass and gag her mouth, before defiling her curvy little body in every way imaginable. He’d fuck her pussy until she’d come so many times she was boneless. Then he’d remove her gag, pull her onto her knees while he stood before her, and shove his dick so deep inside that sexy mouth that he came straight down her throat.

  Son of a bitch. He was getting hard just thinking about it. So hard he knew that if he stood up from the table right then, his erection would look obscene, tenting the front of his trousers. And there was a perv
erse part of him that wanted to do just that, just to see the look on Miss Uptight’s pretty face.

  Jonah started to push his chair back from the table, then stopped himself as a wave of disgust flooded his system. Lucas was right. What in the hell was he doing? Raking his hand back through his hair, he sucked in a sharp breath and struggled for control.

  Damn it, I don’t need this right now. I need… I just need to…

  At a loss for how to finish that thought, he ground his teeth together so hard that pain shot through his jaw. The situation was getting out of hand, and he was done with it. He just didn’t know how the fuck he was going to fix it. He was already hitting Vane at least twice a week, sometimes three, when before he usually only went two or three times in an entire month.

  Maybe I should just go every night and screw myself into a coma.

  The thought sent a dark laugh bursting past his lips, earning him a worried look from Lucas, while Jocelyn froze, slender fingers poised over her keyboard, her body vibrating with a fine, almost imperceptible tension. But Jonah sensed it on an animal level, like a predator with its prey.

  Unable to resist toying with her, he nudged her foot again under the table, only this time he followed it up by sliding the toe of his shoe along her calf. And, yeah, playing footsie was a bit pathetic for a man his age—not to mention inappropriate in the workplace—but he’d have been lying if he’d said it wasn’t satisfying as hell, watching Jocelyn give a reflexive jerk, her elbow sending the empty coffee cup on her left crashing to the carpeted floor.

  “Shit!”

  The whispered curse word on her pink lips surprised him, since he hadn’t thought she had it in her. Stick her in a Catholic schoolgirl’s uniform with pigtails, and she could have passed for an innocent little eighteen-year-old who never swore or thought about boys touching her under her skirt. But while that curse had been soft, it’d packed some unmistakable heat, and he was relieved to learn she had some temper in her, after all.

  Then she leaned over to the side, reaching for the fallen mug, and his relief turned into something sharp and raw as she unknowingly gave him a great shot down the front of her sweater and blouse, straight into her cleavage. Fuck! The little prude had one of the nicest pairs of tits he’d ever seen, the pale pink lace of her bra barely containing them. As she straightened in her chair and shot him a baleful look, Jonah plastered a neutral expression on his face, while inside he was already raging with lust. And all because he’d gotten a shot of her mouthwatering rack.

  Goddamn it, he wished he hadn’t liked that view nearly as much as he had, because he wasn’t likely to ever get those beauties in his hands. Or bury his face between them, before taking his time sucking on the tender nipples. Hell, he’d probably never even see them again. Not like that, when they’d been damn near bared to his gaze. Especially not today, when the long, baggy sweater she wore over the silky blouse did such a good job of concealing her shape.

  The sweater was more casual than what she usually wore to the office, and he wondered if she’d deliberately chosen it, along with the maxi skirt, because she’d known they would be working together and had wanted to cover up.

  In a perverse twist, it just made him want to bare her to his hungry gaze all the more.

  Huh. Maybe he was on to something there. If he told her that little truth—that the sweater made him desperate to see her naked—she might think twice about wearing the damn thing next time.

  Then again, if he were smart, maybe he could get her to go ahead and lose the sweater right then and there.

  Using his phone to access the room’s climate control system, Jonah typed in the password and proceeded to turn off the blast of cold air that had been pouring in from the vents. Biting back a cocky smirk, he then turned the heat on, cranking it up a whole ten degrees. Feeling like patting himself on the fucking back, he casually set his phone down and finally turned his attention back to the documents he was meant to be reading on his laptop. But he didn’t see the words. Instead, he watched the minutes ticking down in the upper right corner of his screen, waiting…

  When Jocelyn fidgeted uncomfortably in her chair, he looked her way. “Are you okay?” he asked, aware that Lucas was watching him closely. The guy knew him well enough to guess that he was up to something, and though he had to be getting uncomfortably warm in his suit, his childhood friend thankfully kept his mouth shut.

  “Is it warm in here?” she asked, all pink-cheeked and dewy.

  “Not that I noticed.” Jonah gave her an innocent look and tried to sound concerned. “Maybe you’re coming down with something.”

  Worry pulled her pale brows together, and he almost felt a pang of guilt for making her think she was getting ill.

  “Then again, it’s probably that ugly-as-hell sweater you’re cocooned in.”

  Her green eyes went wide. “Wow. That was rude.”

  “But true,” he murmured, sliding his gaze over the baggy sweater, before looking her right in the eye. “What are you? Twenty-two? Twenty-three? You’re too young to hide yourself like that.”

  Her nostrils flared with irritation. “You’re being incredibly inappropriate. And you really don’t know anything about me, so I wouldn’t make assumptions. I’m not hiding anything. I happen to love this sweater!”

  He snorted as he shook his head. “Trust me, Jace. You’re the only one.”

  Lucas kicked him under the table, and Jonah glanced his way, catching the “What the hell, dude?” look on Lucas’s face that made him feel like a shit. He sucked in a deep breath, having no answer for the crap pouring out of his mouth. When it came to women, he was always so effortlessly smooth. Fun, flirty, never afraid to be a goofball if it put them at ease, the way he’d been with Denny on Gabe’s birthday. And now look at him.

  Jesus. I’m a dick. A big ol’ nasty, hairy dick.

  Rubbing at the back of his neck, he didn’t look at her as he muttered, “It actually does feel a little warm in here.”

  Then he started to reach for his phone again, intending to turn the AC back on, when she grabbed the notepad beside her computer and started fanning herself with it. In the next instant, his phone was forgotten, because he smelled something that was so unbelievably good—the soft, mouthwatering scent rising with the heat of her body—that it made him have to bite back a groan. Warm and evocative, it was more than just some store-bought perfume. It was her, damn it. A delicious combination of her warm skin and whatever girly stuff she slathered on in the mornings, and it made him want to run his open mouth over every inch of her, breathing in hungry lungfuls, while he did his best to discover if every part of her tasted as delicious as she smelled.

  So while the decent thing to do would be to turn the heat off, he stuck with his original plan.

  I’m a fucking guy, he thought, knowing damn well that he was just searching for a way to justify acting like an asshole. I’m meant to think with my dick.

  Clearing his throat, he looked back over at Lucas. “Nic was in a meeting in here yesterday, and he mentioned that the AC wasn’t working properly. I’d call him, but he’s probably in the middle of his morning workout. Could you go and ask him when maintenance was meant to be in to fix it?” Nic Hart was their longtime friend and fellow Atlas co-owner, and his office (which had an attached mini-gym) was located just across from the conference room.

  “Yeah, sure,” Lucas drawled, pushing his chair back. As he moved to his feet, he shot Jonah a knowing look. Figuring he was going to owe Lucas for this, since the guy clearly knew he was lying through his teeth, but was playing along anyway, he made a mental note to send him a case of his favorite Scotch whiskey.

  As soon as the door clicked shut behind Lucas, Jonah looked at Jocelyn. She was pretending to be completely absorbed by whatever was on her laptop, but he knew it was all for show. The little prude was silently freaking out at the idea of being alone with him, the pulse at the base of her throat fluttering like mad. He hoped it was from excitement and not fear. He wante
d her panting after him, not scared.

  “If we can’t get the AC working, we’ll just move to another conference room. Lucas will have it sorted soon,” he murmured, trying to put her at ease.

  “Great,” she said in a low voice, those green eyes never wavering from her computer.

  If she thought it was weird that Nic was working out at 11 a.m. instead of doing his job, she didn’t mention it. Knowing how gossip traveled through a company—even one as big as Atlas—she’d probably already heard about the mini-gym attached to Nic’s office. For the sake of Nic’s privacy, he just hoped she didn’t know why his friend pushed himself so hard…and needed to be alone to do it.

  And Jonah really hoped she hadn’t heard anything about his own pastimes, though that was probably wishful thinking. While he didn’t advertise his exploits at Vane, he wasn’t naive enough to think that everyone on the payroll at Atlas, aside from his co-owners, was unaware he was a member of the club. Or what he got up to when he was there.

  Rubbing the back of his neck again, he wondered if maybe that was Jocelyn’s problem with him. And if so, did she disapprove of his behavior, or was she simply turned off by it? Did she think he was a deviant? Or was she just too innocent to know what to do with him?

  She was still flushed, her skin glowing, and even though Jonah was in his shirtsleeves, his jacket hanging on the back of his chair, he was also feeling the heat. Reaching up with one hand, he loosened his tie, then undid the top button on his shirt. He caught her watching him from the corner of her eye, and silently willed her to give in and ditch the sweater, letting him have what he wanted. But she was a stubborn little thing. When five minutes went by in heavy silence, and she was still just sitting there, staring at her computer, he reached for his phone again.