He nearly came just from the contact of her cool fingers on his overheated flesh. “Miranda.”
“Oh no, you’ve been torturing me.” Sinking down to her knees, she raised her blue-eyed gaze to him. “Now it’s my turn.”
The exquisite torment of her tongue hurt so good he couldn’t stop the low groan from escaping. She followed the move by wrapping her lips around the crown and engulfing him, then pulling back and starting the process again. When he thought it couldn’t get better, she took him again deep into her hot mouth. Looking down and seeing her glistening lips wrapped around him amped up the tingling sensation in his balls. She gazed up at him with wide blue eyes. If he didn’t stop her now, he’d lose control. There was no way he’d do that before he sent her over the edge.
He stepped back, the cool air in the bank vault crisp against his throbbing dick, and pulled her into a standing position. “Do you have a condom?”
“No.” Miranda, her face flush with need, reached down with shaking fingers and unzipped her knee-high boots before kicking them off with urgency. “But there are other options.” She hooked her fingers in her jeans and slid them over her round hips and down her long legs. Naked except for a pair of black lace underwear that showed almost as much as it hid, she eliminated the space between them. Her deft fingers loosened his tie and unfastened the buttons on his shirt.
“Do you want me, Logan?” She spread his shirt wide and pushed it off his arms. The striped button-up shirt fluttered to the floor.
“You have no idea how badly.” Hooking his fingers into the tiny elastic band of her panties, he pulled her forward until his hardness brushed against the damp lace.
He lowered his head and moved his hands around to cup her full ass, just as desperate to give her release as he was to find his own. The buzz of the intercom sounded before his lips even touched hers.
He and Miranda jumped apart.
“Excuse me, Mr. Martin.” Sharlene paused. “Your appointment is here… The developers, and Mr. Hampton needs to access his safe deposit box.”
Reality crashed down like a brick wall. Remembering his home training, he pushed the talk button to respond, praying he didn’t sound like a man who had just lost his mind—which he was. “We’ll be out in just a minute, Sharlene.”
Miranda stood a foot away, her chest heaving, her blue eyes drained of passion and a bright pink blush staining her cheeks. “Oh, my God.”
“It’s okay, the door is a foot thick. No one could hear us.” He grabbed his slacks off the floor and pulled them on.
She hadn’t started to put on her clothes, was instead clutching them to her magnificent breasts. “That doesn’t matter, they’ll all assume.”
True. The Salvation gossip hotline circuits must have overloaded the minute he’d closed the vault door. Nothing to be done about that.
“They would have assumed it whether we had done…” He waved his hand in the air. “…this or not.”
Miranda arched an eyebrow and shot him a saucy grin. “And do you get frisky in the bank vault on a regular basis?”
“No.” He laughed. “But you’re a Sweet, and it’s not like your family is known for common sense.”
The second the words were out, Logan knew he’d just put his foot so deep in his mouth it would give him indigestion for a week. Her body, so soft beneath his touch a moment before, turned rigid. His stomach turned into a lead weight, and his pulse went wild.
“And you’re a Martin. We couldn’t have the town thinking you’d gone slumming. Again.” Sarcasm dripped from her voice as she snapped her bra shut and shoved her sweater over her head. “Well, don’t worry, I’ll set the gossips straight.”
Regret, the most merciless of vises, tightened his lungs. Hurting her feelings had been the last thing he’d wanted. He stuffed his shirttails into his pants and put his tie back in place. “Miranda, I didn’t mean––”
“For this to happen.” She pulled on her jeans and snapped them closed. “That makes two of us.”
She rammed her feet into her boots and zipped them up before his muddled brain could figure out what to say to fix this, because whatever this was it went beyond the bet.
“Miranda…” Crossing to her, he fumbled for whatever words would make it right. “There will be talk…”
“Do you even know what it was like for me in this town after Mr. Cooper found us parked out by his barn after I’d lost my virginity to you? Oh, they laughed about how boys will be boys when it came to you, but I had a scarlet A tattooed on my forehead. It didn’t matter that I had a full scholarship to an Ivy League school. It didn’t matter that I had plans for my future. All the small-minded gossips in this town could say was here was another crazy Sweet trying to trap a good man into marriage. And you never said one word to defend me. Not. One. Why do you think this is the first time I’ve set foot in Salvation since high school graduation?
” She sucked in a ragged breath, her gaze steady but bright with emotion. “Believe me, no one wants what just happened to come to light any less than I do—not even you—and I’d appreciate it if you just keep your mouth shut about the whole thing.”
Guilt twisted him. He’d heard the talk, but he’d been too young, too cocky, and too fucking dumb to do the right thing at the time by speaking up and telling everyone to shut the hell up. Now, she wanted his silence. He couldn’t give her the brewery, but he could at least give her that.
She reached up and straightened his tie, her fingers lingering on his chest. Hurt—old and new—shimmered in her eyes, and he wished he could take back everything after the intercom went off. He nearly vocalized the wish, but Miranda blinked the emotion away before circling around him and heading to the door. She paused, her long fingers wrapped around the door handle and her back to him. “Are you ready?”
His chest pinched. To have Miranda walk out the door? Absolutely not. “Yeah.”
She straightened her shoulders and tilted her chin higher, then pulled open the door.