Commanding billionaire Everett Calhoun reveals his sexy dark side to his girl-next-door best friend in this smoking hot second installment of the Billion $ Bastards trilogy!

I was born bad. Maintaining tight control—in business and in the bedroom—is the only way to keep my darkness in check. So when my girl-next-door best friend, Freya, comes to me for a sexual favor, I don’t see the harm in giving her what she needs. After all, I’ve always kept her firmly in the friend zone.

But after showing her that there’s nothing wrong with her ability to orgasm, it’s all I can do to walk away. Unleashing my inner beast on the person who matters most to me is not an option. But she wants me... Is she prepared to follow my every command? To submit to my will and let me take her to the ultimate heights of pleasure?

Getting Freya on her knees should make me feel like the monster I am, but being with her leaves me more vulnerable, more human, than ever. I need to reclaim the friendship we had before I lose control completely, or will she have me on my knees...?

Harlequin DARE publishes sexy romances featuring powerful alpha heroes and bold, fearless heroines exploring their deepest fantasies.

Four new Harlequin DARE titles are available each month, wherever ebooks are sold!

JACKIE ASHENDEN writes dark, emotional stories with alpha heroes who’ve just gotten the world to their liking only to have it blown wide apart by their kick-ass heroines. She lives in Auckland, New Zealand, with her husband, the inimitable Dr. Jax, two kids and two rats. When she’s not torturing alpha males and their gutsy heroines, she can be found drinking chocolate martinis, reading anything she can lay her hands on, wasting time on social media or being forced to go mountain biking with her husband. To keep up-to-date with Jackie’s new releases and other news, sign up to her newsletter at jackieashenden.com.

Also by Jackie Ashenden

The Knights of Ruin

Ruined

Destroyed

Kings of Sydney

King’s Price

King’s Rule

King’s Ransom

The Billionaires Club

The Debt

Billion $ Bastards

Dirty Devil

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk

Sexy Beast

Jackie Ashenden

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-1-474-09943-1

SEXY BEAST

© 2020 Jackie Ashenden

Published in Great Britain 2020

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

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To the lady in the University of Auckland library

staff room who used to blatantly read romance every

lunchtime despite the sneers. This one’s for you.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

About the Author

Booklist

Title Page

Copyright

Note to Readers

Dedication

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

EPILOGUE

About the Publisher

CHAPTER ONE
Freya

I HATED EVERETT’S launch party.

It wasn’t really his fault. It was just that my dress was too tight, making me feel like an overstuffed sausage, and when you’re nearly six foot, built on the Amazonian side—not to mention a redhead—an overstuffed sausage is not how you want to feel. Plus there was the whole being a Clydesdale in a room full of Arabian Thoroughbreds thing going on, what with the room being full of tiny women in glittering dresses, all prancing around.

But that wasn’t unusual for me. As a mechanic from a tin-pot little Texan town whose best friend just happened to be a billionaire, I was often in situations where I didn’t really fit.

I was way more comfortable in my garage, lying under a car in grease-stained overalls, than I was at fancy fundraisers like this one.

My friend Everett Calhoun and his two friends Damian Blackwood and Ulysses White were launching a special foundation that they’d set up with the backing of the giant multi-billion-dollar company the three of them had started years ago. The fundraiser had all the fancy trappings of a really big event, with famous people and designer outfits, jewellery auctions and a really amazing venue—the British Museum—in a gallery with lots of sculptures from ancient history.

Not my idea of a good time. I preferred hanging with friends at a low-key bar or pub, with a beer.

But then, I wasn’t here because I liked glitzy parties.

I was here because Everett’s business interests took him all over the world and I very rarely got to see him. He’d needed a date for this party, and so he’d asked me. He never asked for help; he was more usually attempting to help me—not that I’d ever let him—so it was nice to be able to do something for him.

I’d always wanted to see London and since I’d taken on Casey at the garage I was able to leave the business without worrying it might fall over if I missed a day or two.

Resisting the urge to rub my sweaty palms down the dress I’d hurriedly picked up at a store along Oxford Street that afternoon, I craned my neck trying to spot where Everett was. He’d told me he was going off to find me a drink and he was taking his time about it. Not that I was unhappy about that.

Because there was another reason why the party was getting to me. Why I was feeling antsy and restless and more than a little distracted. Everett might have needed me to be his date tonight, but I also needed something from him. Something I’d been considering a lot on the flight to London that I hoped wouldn’t change our friendship, but maybe would, and whether that was a good idea or not was anyone’s guess.

But I couldn’t start talking to him about that because he wasn’t here, which was super annoying. Especially when I really needed the margarita he was supposed to be getting me.

He shouldn’t have been that hard to spot considering he was six-four and built like Superman, but I couldn’t see him anywhere.

I could see Damian Blackwood, phenomenally good-looking and radiating charm like a Hollywood movie star, talking to a bunch of people and making them laugh, his beautiful voice and Australian accent making him easy to pick out in the crowd.

Ulysses White was there too, striding around grim-faced, his black eyes full of ice, his assistant trailing after him—another of those thoroughbred women—looking exasperated.

But Everett Calhoun? My best friend in the whole wide world? Where the hell was he?

‘Little,’ a deep voice from behind me said.

Only one person ever called me ‘Little’.

I turned and there he was, and right on cue my heart starting beating faster, the way it always did around him. The way it had been doing ever since he was sixteen and I, two years younger, was adjusting the bow tie on the suit he’d hired for prom.

He’d been gorgeous then and he was gorgeous now, especially in a tux, the tailored black fabric highlighting his height and the width of his shoulders and powerful chest.

Back in Texas, before the military, he’d worn nothing but jeans and T-shirts and always looked hot AF. But in the suits he now wore? Oh, man, flat out delicious.

His dark blond hair had once been shaggy and I’d always wanted to push it out of his eyes. Now he wore it cut army-short and, even though I missed the length, I liked the way the short cut highlighted his amazing face.

He wasn’t classically handsome, like his friend Damian. His features were blunter, harsher, intensely masculine. His jaw was strong and square, and his nose had a bump in it from when it had been broken while he’d been on deployment somewhere. His brows were heavy, his eyes deep set and blue as the ocean, with a tinge of green. He’d never been much of a smiler, which was a shame since his mouth was the perfect shape for kissing and—

Stop.

Everett was staring at me, blond brows pulling down into his usual frown, the one that made him look like a very stern Viking. ‘What’s up? I got you the margarita you wanted.’ He held out the drink while I tried to ignore my physical response to him.

It wasn’t usually this noticeable. Then again, I wasn’t usually at a party trying to get up the courage to ask my best friend if he’d help me out...sexually.

Not that I wanted actual sex. I just wanted an orgasm. No biggie.

First, though, I needed a drink.

Shoving thoughts of orgasms aside, I gave him a grin. ‘Took your time. What did you do? Make the tequila yourself?’

‘Had to help Damian with a problem.’ Everett was characteristically short on detail. ‘You want this or what?’

Still grinning, I grabbed the glass and took a large gulp, the alcohol burning on its way down. I probably needed to be careful, especially considering it had been alcohol that had put the thought of Everett and orgasms in my head in the first place.

It had been my twenty-first birthday and my first time in a bar. Too much beer and late night conversation about relationships—or, rather, my lack of one. And by ‘relationships’ I meant ‘sex’. Or, rather, me rambling on to Everett about how sex wasn’t that great for me, because men didn’t seem to know how to get me off. I couldn’t quite understand how the conversation had ended up where it had, but the result was Everett telling me that if I wanted an orgasm that badly to come and see him, and he’d give me one.

I’d forgotten about it the next day—mainly because I’d been drunk as a skunk—and he hadn’t mentioned it either, and so the offer had gotten lost in the mists of my own drunken memory.

But a week or so later the memory had popped back up, my embarrassment complete when it reminded me that while I might have been drunk during that conversation, Everett had been stone cold sober. Of course my brain had instantly frozen, the briefest burst of hope flashing through me before I could stop it. The hope that maybe the offer meant he was as interested in me as I was in him. Stupid brain. I knew he wasn’t. He’d never treated me as anything more than a friend and I was sure his orgasm proposal had more to do with friendship than it did with any kind of sexual attraction.

Which naturally had ensured I would never take him up on it. Ever. I didn’t want pity orgasms from Everett, because that was what it felt like, no matter what his intention had been in offering to help.

I didn’t need his help. Never had. And that had nothing to do with the fact that I’d been crushing on him since for ever and had always nurtured secret thoughts that maybe one day he’d suddenly turn around and see that his best friend was a woman, not just a tomboy in grease-stained overalls.

Except then Tiffany’s wedding had come along. She was my favourite cousin—I was brought up with her after my mother died—and I’d been asked to go, but the thought of enduring a hen party full of sexual innuendo, when I had no decent sex life to make innuendos about, seemed sad. My aunt and her family—Tiff excluded—thought I was pretty sad as it was, and I was a little sick of it. Being nearly thirty and not having had an orgasm with a partner seemed wrong, and I was a little sick of that too.

I could have pretended, I guess. Made up some story of wild, no-holds-barred sex with some amazing guy. But the truth was that I’d always had a nagging doubt that the problem lay with me. That there was something wrong with me, that I wasn’t much of a woman somehow.

I hated that feeling since I knew exactly where it had come from: my very critical aunt who never failed to comment on my faults, especially on my height and how unfeminine I was. And even though I was totally fine with myself these days, her comments had stuck, echoing in my head when I was at my lowest. Whispering to me that I’d never be able to have a fulfilling relationship, that I’d end up being alone for ever.

I didn’t want to be alone for ever. I didn’t want her comments in my head any more. I didn’t want to feel like a lumbering Clydesdale in a room full of pretty fillies. I didn’t want that doubt about myself.

So I’d changed my mind about Everett’s offer. I wanted to feel like a woman and if anyone could do that it was him. Sure, it might be a pity orgasm, but hey, at least then I’d know that the problem wasn’t me.

He had his hands shoved in his pockets now and was staring at me, still looking every inch the stern Viking with his steely gaze, hard jaw and powerful build.

An intimidating guy, Everett Calhoun.

But he’d never intimidated me. I’d known him since I was eight and he was the boy next door who’d seen me crying in the backyard. He asked me if I wanted to shoot some hoops with him, because he wanted to be a basketball player when he grew up and that I should be too, since I was tall.

He’d been the first person to see my height as an asset not a drawback, and that was how he’d treated me ever since. He was a good guy who looked out for people even though life had dealt him a shitty hand.

Or at least it had been shitty. Now it was pretty good, though he’d worked very hard to get where he was today, and I admired him for that.

Still wasn’t intimidated, though.

‘You didn’t answer my question,’ he said patiently.

‘What question?’

‘I asked you what was up.’

So he had.

‘So “what’s up” in the general sense?’ I said. ‘Or maybe “what’s up” in the literal sense, as in some balloons escaping or...’

Everett remained silent, his blue gaze unwavering. How had he picked up that I was nervous? Admittedly, I tended to run at the mouth when I was uncertain, but I was sure I hadn’t been babbling before.

I needed some more margarita. Stat.

‘Jet lag,’ I said, gulping at my drink. ‘It’s a bitch.’

‘Jet lag,’ he echoed, those two words somehow encompassing an entire universe of scepticism.

‘Yeah, man. Flying cattle class is no joke. You’ve probably forgotten.’

Everett’s brows twitched. ‘I offered to pay for business class.’

‘Which was generous, but unnecessary.’ I could have used the extra legroom, but it was just such a waste of money. A plane was a plane. ‘Anyway, so this is fun. Not. Why didn’t you ask one of the fillies over there to be your date?’ I waved my glass in the general direction of the Thoroughbreds. ‘I’m not ungrateful, believe me. Just...puzzled.’

‘Because Morgan said we had to bring someone who mattered to us,’ Everett said, turning to glance out across the crowded gallery.

Morgan was the little woman I’d seen trailing after Ulysses. His PA and Damian’s baby sister, apparently. She was the one who’d organised this launch for the new Black and White Foundation, which was something to do with disadvantaged kids. A great project, I thought, and it was very Everett to put all his considerable money behind a very good cause.

He was a man of action rather than words, but that was what I liked about him. He never spent a lot of time talking about what he was going to do. He just went ahead and did it.

‘Plus,’ Everett went on, clearly reading my mind, ‘I hate shit like this and it’s good having someone around that I don’t need to talk to all the time.’

I grinned, a small glow of pleasure sitting just behind my breastbone. It was always nice to be appreciated by him, especially since he didn’t often say stuff like that out loud.

All of this is going to change when you ask him for your favour—you realise that, don’t you?

Lifting my glass, I took another healthy sip, watching the swirl of the crowd in the gallery and shoving that thought aside to an unused corner of my brain. Operation Orgasm didn’t have to change anything, not if I didn’t let it. And I wasn’t going to let it.

All I wanted was to turn up at Tiffany’s hen party with the knowledge that my clitoris and/or vagina were in perfect working order, and that I was just as much a woman as my perfect, delicate cousins were, despite what my aunt thought. And hey, once I knew for certain that the issue wasn’t me, perhaps I could move on from my hopeless crush on my best friend and find someone who might want to crush on me instead.

‘Thanks E,’ I said. ‘Best friends who are also billionaires rule.’

He grunted, which was Everett-speak for thank you.

I knocked back more margarita, only slightly disturbed to see I’d had nearly all of it in the couple of minutes since Everett had brought it to me. But if downing a whole margarita in the space of five minutes was what was needed to get this request out, then that was what was needed.

There was a silence. An uncomfortable one.

I was painfully conscious of his massive, powerful figure standing next to me, and for a second I didn’t know what would be worse, him saying, ‘Yeah, sure, I’ll give you an orgasm’ or, ‘Not if my life depended on it’.

‘You’re nervous.’ His deep voice was a rumble, his gaze still on the swirling crowd. ‘Why?’

Dammit. Of course he’d come back around to that. He never let anything go, the asshole. And I still wasn’t ready to tell him the reason.

You’re never going to be ready.

That was, unfortunately, true. In which case, I needed to suck it up, get on with it and stop pretending it mattered. Hell, if the worst came to the worst, I could always pay someone to give me one. I wouldn’t be the first woman to pay for an orgasm, surely?

Ignoring his question, I downed the rest of my margarita and put the empty glass on a plinth supporting some ancient Greek sculpture. Then I glanced around to make sure there weren’t any other groups of people near us, because the last thing I wanted was an audience.

Luckily, there was no one in our immediate vicinity, so I turned to face him. I was aware of the small thrill that hit me every time I had to look up at him, because I generally had to look down at people, not up. ‘I...uh...need to ask you something.’

He raised one blond brow.

Okay, Freya. It’s now or never.

It should have been easy. I owned a garage and was around men all day. I’d never had any problems talking to them before. I’d never had any problems talking to Everett either. But suddenly it wasn’t easy. Suddenly it felt like the hardest thing I’d had to do for years and years.

Perhaps it was because I preferred to give help rather than receive it. It definitely had nothing whatsoever to do with the sex.

‘So, uh, remember the night of my twenty-first birthday?’ I began awkwardly.

His gaze narrowed. ‘Some.’

‘Right, well, you know you made me an offer that night?’

His gaze narrowed still further. Did he remember? Part of me hoped he didn’t, even though it would mean me having to explain the whole thing out loud.

‘About orgasms, yes?’ He didn’t hesitate with the reply or stumble over the word. As if he said ‘orgasms’ every day in just that tone of voice.

So. Clearly, he remembered. Which was great since I didn’t have to go over the whole thing again, but also...awkward.

‘Yeah.’ I willed my cheeks not to flush, because red on red was never a good look. ‘And you said that—’

‘If you wanted an orgasm, you could come to me,’ he finished, his face disturbingly expressionless.

‘That’s about the size of it.’ My hands were somehow in fists at my sides so I opened them, trying to relax. ‘So, I guess that’s why I’m a little...nervous.’ I took a breath. ‘Because...uh... I’d like to take you up on your offer.’

CHAPTER TWO
Everett

I’D BEEN RIGHT in thinking she was nervous. I’d picked up on it the moment I’d met her at the gate at Heathrow that morning, and it had only seemed to get worse as the day had gone on.

But I’d thought it must have something to do with the Black and White Foundation launch. Like me, she hated formal parties, and I’d assumed it was that.

But apparently it wasn’t the party.

It was me and the orgasm offer I’d made her years ago.

I’d thought she’d forgotten about that, especially since she’d been drunk at the time. She certainly hadn’t mentioned it the next day, or even since, and so I’d left it, because if there was one thing Freya was it was stubborn as hell. And if she didn’t want my help then she didn’t want it.

In fact, ‘No, thanks’ was her stock answer to all the help I’d offered her over the years. No, thanks to the finance for her garage when she’d first set it up. No, thanks to a loan for a house when she’d finally got sick of her aunt’s constant criticism and decided to move out. No, thanks to a vacation at one of my properties in Hawaii after working her ass off the first year she’d owned her garage. No, thanks to talking to the bank after she’d fallen behind on some of her repayments.

It pissed me off. Mainly because I liked doing things for the people who mattered in my life, and Freya mattered. But she was adamant in refusing me every single goddamn time, and so I’d stopped offering, because I wasn’t a fucking idiot.

Except, for some reason, my help was exactly what she wanted this evening.

Interesting. What had made her want it now?

She was looking pretty damn embarrassed. Her face was bright red, which was startling against the vivid green of the pretty gown she’d bought on a lightning fast trip down Oxford Street, and her fingers were splayed stiffly at her sides, as if she was trying to relax her hands and not doing a very good job.

So, nervous and embarrassed, which meant something had to have pushed her into asking me.

‘My offer,’ I repeated, studying her. ‘That you’ve never mentioned before today. Not even once.’

She gave me a forced grin. ‘Yep. That’s the one.’

‘Why?’ I asked. ‘And why now?’

‘I’m super glad you asked me that question, because yes, there’s definitely a reason.’ She let out a breath. ‘It’s Tiffany’s wedding in a couple of weeks and I didn’t want to turn up dateless yet again. Plus the hen party is going to be a nightmare. So I thought if I knew for sure that the problem wasn’t me—’

‘The problem is never you,’ I interrupted, because I didn’t like it when she talked herself down. She didn’t do it when it came to fixing engines, so I couldn’t understand why she did it in relation to her love life.

She rolled her eyes the way she always did whenever I tried to tell her she was wrong about something. ‘Yeah, well, I don’t actually know that it’s not me, do I? Because if I did I sure as hell wouldn’t be embarrassing myself by asking you for help.’

My usual irritation at her insistence on not letting me do a single thing for her shifted, getting sharper at her obvious annoyance at having to ask me for help at all.

But I didn’t let it show. I never let anything show.

‘So nothing’s changed then?’ I ignored her eye roll. ‘You haven’t even found one guy who’s managed to get you off?’

Annoyance glittered in her dark jade-green eyes. ‘No, and not through want of trying, believe me.’

‘No need to be defensive. I’m just trying to work out why I’m your last resort.’

‘You’re not my last resort.’ She shifted on the strappy high-heeled sandals she’d bought with the dress, teetering only slightly. ‘Sex just isn’t something you’d ask your best friend for help with, okay?’

‘Not necessarily,’ I disagreed, still annoyed for some reason. ‘But then, you’re not asking me for sex, are you?’ I lifted a brow. ‘Or are you?’

She flushed, going the same shade of fiery red as the fat plait that hung down her back. ‘Uh, no.’

‘So, just an orgasm then?’

‘Yes. Look, you don’t have to do it if you don’t want to. I’d rather it wasn’t something you got mad about.’

How she knew I was irritated, I had no idea, but then Freya often picked up on my emotions with uncanny accuracy. Which only irritated me further.

Why are you getting mad about it, anyway?

I wasn’t mad. I was just...irritated.

I’d made her the offer because I didn’t like seeing her unhappy, and that kind of vanilla sex wasn’t a big deal. Fixing her sex life for her wasn’t any different from her fixing my car for me. And besides, I was good at it. Getting a woman off was easy when you knew what you were doing, and I certainly did. But she hadn’t mentioned it again and since that was pretty much par for the course with any help I offered her, I’d left it at that.

I hadn’t thought it was still a problem, but obviously it was.

‘I’m not mad,’ I said aloud, to remind myself. ‘And I haven’t said no. I’m just disappointed you didn’t come to me sooner.’

‘Yeah, well, I didn’t.’ She gave a little shrug and for some reason I found myself staring at the way the silky fabric of her gown pulled across the curves of her generous breasts. ‘Like I said, I don’t usually think of orgasms in conjunction with my best friend.’

There was no reason that she should either, since I’d never seen her as anything more than a friend who happened to be a woman. Sure, I’d checked her out, because I was a man and not blind, and she was gorgeous. Who wouldn’t notice a nearly six foot tall redhead with an athletic body and the kind of curves to keep a man very happy indeed? A round, pretty face, cute button nose, full pouty mouth and enough freckles to fuel the girl next door fantasies from here to fucking kingdom come.

Freya wasn’t a pocket Venus. She was the literal, actual, life-sized version.

But, even so, I’d placed her very firmly in the friend zone. She was the single most important person in my life and I didn’t want to compromise our friendship with sex. Especially given the kind of sex I preferred. I’d always tried to be the good guy in her life, the person she could count on no matter what, and the last thing I wanted was to put that at risk because I couldn’t control my own stupid dick.

I wasn’t looking for more even if I’d wanted it. My legacy would be the Black and White Foundation for disadvantaged kids, the one that Ulysses, Damian and I were launching that night, and I was more than happy with that. A family of my own wasn’t on the cards and never would be, not with the kind of shitty genes that I had. But I wanted to do something with my wealth, otherwise what was the point in having it?

Damian liked to spend his money on fast cars, parties, jewels and women, while Ulysses preferred tech. I spent my hard-earned cash on protecting those who couldn’t protect themselves—initiatives for the homeless, women’s refuges, anti-violence campaigns, addiction centres and various other things, especially in my home town.

Which all sounds very virtuous and sacrificial, but it wasn’t. My friends were born good guys, though they spent their money trying to make themselves look bad.

I’d been born bad and spent my money trying to make myself good.

So far it was working, but who knew for how long?

Won’t be for long if you tell Freya what you really like when it comes to dealing out orgasms.

I scowled at the thought. Yeah, that wasn’t happening. Not on any planet. The last thing my decidedly un-kinky best friend needed to know was that I got off ordering other women around and punishing them.

Freya frowned at me. ‘And now you’re scowling. This is going well.’

Firmly shoving aside thoughts of the dominance games I liked to play, I concentrated my attention on her instead. ‘Be straight with me, Little. What exactly are you asking for?’

She only just missed another eye roll. ‘I thought I was clear, but okay, apparently not. I’d like just one orgasm that isn’t self-administered before having to go to Tiffany’s hen party in a couple of weeks. There.’ She drew herself up, her chin lifting. ‘That straight enough for you?’

How are you going to do it? Put her on her knees? Get her to suck you off?

I had no idea where the thought came from. Maybe from the glitter of challenge in her eyes, because a challenge from a woman always got me interested. Or, rather, it got my inner dominant interested.

Yet it had never happened with Freya before. Never ever. And it wasn’t because she hadn’t challenged me before, because she certainly had. She constantly poked at me, but it was always in a very easy-going, good-natured way that amused me rather than anything else.

Maybe that was why the Dom in me stirred. She hadn’t ever given me a look quite as direct as that before. Or maybe it wasn’t her directness but her request to help her sexually that had got me thinking about how to give her what she wanted in a way that would be the most intensely satisfying for her.

Either way, I found myself looking at her closely, studying how the green silk of her gown clung to her figure, outlining curves a goddess would have been proud of. Beautiful, full tits. An elegant waist. Curvy hips. Long, long legs.

Normally, I didn’t much care what kind of body a woman had, because it was all about the way they submitted to me that got me off. But I had to admit that, thinking about it, Freya had one hell of a sexy figure.

She could take anything you gave her.

The thought wound through my head and I wasn’t sure I liked it. Because although I could give Freya what she wanted, it would be vanilla all the way. I didn’t need to subject my friend to the kinds of games I liked to play. Hell, if I wanted that, there were plenty of clubs that could meet my needs. In fact, I already knew of a couple in London that I could head to after the party.

‘Yeah, that’ll do,’ I said, shoving all those thoughts away. ‘Though I don’t know why you need to prove anything to Tiffany.’

Tiffany was the cousin she liked the most and the only one out of all that family who wasn’t a total dickhead. I’d always hated the way they treated Freya—her aunt especially—but Freya had never let me intervene. It was her problem to deal with, apparently.

‘I’m not proving anything to her,’ Freya said firmly, giving me a warning look. ‘I’m proving it to me, okay?’

Stubborn Little. She could give a mule a run for its money. ‘Understood. Though you don’t need to—’

‘Oh, for God’s sake, E,’ she interrupted. ‘Just tell me whether you will or not.’

I ignored the small electric jolt that her interruption sent straight down my spine, making the beast in me want to put her on her knees and punish her for it.

She was always so impatient. I preferred to collect all the available intel before I made a decision and this situation was no different. ‘Why me?’

‘Seriously? You know why you. You offered, remember?’

‘Yeah, but you’d clearly rather do anything else than be here right now asking me for an o—’

‘Okay, okay.’ She flapped her hands at me yet again then took a little breath, giving me the look she always gave me when she was being serious and straight up, which wasn’t very often. ‘Look, you said you were good at it. You said you always got a woman off. That your failure rate was zero percent.’ Her forehead creased. ‘Or is this a fisherman situation?’

‘This is not a fisherman situation. Why would I lie about it?’

‘Men do.’ Her gaze was very serious. ‘All the freaking time.’

Of course, I instantly wanted to know who’d lied to her and why, but now wasn’t the time. I’d have to ask her about it later.

‘I do not have a failure rate,’ I said flatly, ‘because I’ve never not got a woman off.’ It wasn’t a brag. Just a straight-up fact. ‘And yes, I can get you off too, if you want me to.’

I’d never been going to refuse her. Not helping her when she finally asked me for help was simply not an option.

An expression that looked like relief flickered across her face, though there was something else there that looked a little like uncertainty. ‘Oh, well, that’s, uh, great. But it’ll be a challenge. Not gonna lie. I’m a tough nut to crack.’

I gave her a look. Because Freya might act tough and make like she was one of the boys, but she was definitely a woman underneath all of that. And I knew how a woman’s body worked. I knew how a woman’s mind worked too—at least when it came to sex—and I had no doubt at all that using both to get Freya off would not be a problem.

‘You won’t be.’ I allowed myself a slight smile. ‘And besides, you know I like a challenge.’

‘You’ve definitely got one.’ She turned to look over the crowd once more.

‘Little,’ I ordered, letting a thread of steel wind through my voice, just to see what she’d do.

She turned to look at me pretty much instantly.

She’s responsive.

Oh, hell, no. Not going there, remember?

I held out my hand to her. ‘Come on. Let’s go find somewhere more private.’

Her eyes went very round. ‘What? You mean here? Now? But I—’

‘No point in waiting.’ I grabbed her hand and turned, tugging her along with me. There wasn’t much point in hanging around, and once I’d made up my mind I acted. And the part of the launch where various items were going to be auctioned off for a fundraiser, including some of Damian’s jewellery collection, was going to be starting soon and I had to be present for it. Might as well get this over and done with right now.

CHAPTER THREE
Freya

EVERETT’S HAND WAS WARM, his fingers firm as he took my hand in his, and I found myself being tugged along behind him as he strode from the gallery, heading for one of the exits.

For a couple of seconds I was too shocked to resist. I was too shocked to do anything much but stumble after him, my brain flailing around trying to work out what was going on. Because he couldn’t be serious. He couldn’t mean this orgasm stuff now. Could he?

You know he is.

But of course he was. Everett was nothing but serious and once he made up his mind about something he didn’t mess around. When he had a mission he was on it and nothing and no one would come between him and accomplishing it.

It was unexpectedly scary, and my heartbeat was suddenly ten million times faster than it had been a moment ago. I found it difficult to breathe and there appeared to be a whole roomful of butterflies fluttering around in my stomach. I wished I’d had another margarita because, holy shit, I needed one.

What if I couldn’t do it? What if he couldn’t? What if Everett Calhoun and his zero percent failure rate actually failed? Where would that leave me?

Perhaps there’s something wrong with you after all.

I tried to ignore that thought, tried to pull myself together as Everett tugged me out of the gallery and into a quiet corridor, where there was no one around.

Then he dropped my hand and turned, his palms settling on my hips—his big, hot palms—as he pushed me gently, but very firmly, into a small alcove off the corridor and up against the wall.

I blinked.

Everett was a big guy, tall and broad and muscular. And of course I’d noticed, because there weren’t many men around who were taller than me. But I’d never thought I’d like just how much taller he was, and how much broader. How it felt like he was towering over me, his wide shoulders blocking out the view of the corridor, his body a wall of hard granite right in front of me.

A wall of hot, hard granite.

Holy shit. My mouth had gone dry and I was abruptly very, very conscious of his hands on my hips, and how the heat of his palms was burning through the silk of my stupid tight dress.

His hands were so big. How come I’d never noticed that before? And how come I’d never noticed just how hot he was either?

I looked up and had to tilt my head back just to meet his gaze; the butterflies in my stomach fluttered harder. My breathing had gone AWOL and the atmosphere was suddenly crackling with a weird sort of electricity that seemed to be solely generated by Everett’s intense blue stare.

The way he looked at me, like I was the sole interesting thing in the universe, was...disturbing. And the way he loomed over me was disturbing as well, because it was making me feel...small. His big hands made me feel almost...dainty.

He was so very, very male and for the first time in my entire existence I felt very, very female.

I didn’t like it. I’d come to terms with my height and my build. To the subtle slights my aunt sent my way about how I was a ‘big girl’ and that I had to be careful with overly feminine dresses because they would look strange on a ‘woman of your size’.

She meant well. She wasn’t being deliberately cruel. But I wasn’t like her or her three daughters, my cousins. I wasn’t small and slender. I didn’t like dolls or tea parties as a kid, and I didn’t like shopping as a teenager. I preferred hanging out with my uncle as he worked on his old Chevy, where there was no pressure to act or look a certain way. Where I wasn’t being picked at or told to be more like my cousins. Where all I had to do was hand him a wrench now and then.

So yeah, I didn’t want to be frilly and feminine. And I didn’t want to feel small and dainty, or any of the other female kinds of things I hadn’t measured up to. Especially not when I was supposed to be trying to settle Operation Orgasm.

So what are you going to do? Push him away?

I couldn’t do that, not now I’d asked him to help me out. And anyway, he was still my best chance. Zero percent failure rate, right?

So I tried not to think about his hands on my hips or his granite chest in front of me. Or how much he was towering over me right now. Instead, I went for my usual response: a joke.

‘Whoa there, tiger,’ I said breathlessly, pushing at his chest a little. ‘Give a girl some air.’

He didn’t move. Not even an inch. ‘Am I making you nervous?’

His voice was a dark, deep rumble, his blue eyes glittering with sparks of green, and I had the sudden sense that maybe I’d bitten off more than I could chew.

But that was crazy. This was Everett. My best friend Everett. And yes, I’d been lusting after him since I was a teenager, but I wasn’t a teenager anymore. I’d been with plenty of guys and pretty much they were all the same. They were either intimidated by me and tried to make up for it by being extra aggressive and douchey, or they wanted me to make all the decisions for them. Or, in the case of my last date, they started off confident and then, when I failed to get into it, they blamed me for not being sexy enough.

Everett wasn’t like any of them, it was true, but would he really be that different?

I was afraid I already knew the answer. And I was afraid because if he was different this would make everything so much more pressured. What if he couldn’t do it? Or, even worse, what if I couldn’t?

And what if he could?

One warm hand gripped my chin, forcing my head back, and I found myself looking into his eyes. ‘Answer the question.’ There was a steely note in his voice, one I’d never heard him use with me before.

‘W-What question?’ I asked, stammering for no good reason other than the heat of his fingertips on my skin was making every thought in my head fray and shred like wet paper.

‘Do I make you nervous?’

‘No, of course not.’ My response was automatic and also a complete lie, because yes, he was making me nervous. He was making me very nervous indeed. ‘I mean, come on, E. You’re you. I’ve known you since you were ten years old and you’d cry when you missed a hoop—’

Unexpectedly, his thumb pressed down over my mouth, shutting me up.

I blinked, momentarily stunned silent.

‘You talk a lot when you’re nervous,’ he said. ‘You turn everything into a big joke, because that’s easier than being afraid, right? So what are you afraid of, Little? Tell me.’

Afraid? Ha! As if. At least not of him. But I didn’t want to tell him all about the stuff I was afraid of. Such as how I was worried that there was truly something wrong with me. That the reason I couldn’t come had something to do with a defect in me. Because I was supposed to be fine with myself the way I was. I was supposed not to care.

So, in lieu of answering, I opened my mouth and bit his thumb instead.

At least, I tried to. Because the second I was about to bite down, he murmured, ‘Uh-uh. Little girls who bite don’t get what they want.’

It was honestly so stupid that I should have laughed. Little girls who bite? Come on. Yet I’d never felt less like laughing in my entire life.

I was very conscious that the tip of his thumb was in my mouth and that he tasted salty, the flavour of his skin on my tongue making me both hungry and thirsty for something I didn’t know how to ask for.

‘Good girl,’ he said, when it became obvious to both him and me that I wasn’t going to bite down. He removed his thumb. ‘Now, answer the question. What are you nervous about?’ There was no doubt he expected to be obeyed. No doubt at all.

And instead of laughing, of telling him what a dick he was being, I heard myself say, ‘That I can’t do this.’

He didn’t laugh. He didn’t even smile. He only frowned slightly. ‘Why would you think that?’

I didn’t want to go any deeper into all the insecurities I’d thought I’d shrugged off over the years, that were all apparently still there, so all I said was, ‘We’re in a hallway and there are people around. And it’s not even like I can get naked or anything.’ I let out a breath, suddenly miserable. ‘It’s not going to work.’

Everett arched one blond brow, as if he’d never heard anything so stupid in all his life. ‘First, you’re assuming you have to get naked to come. And second, you’re assuming that I don’t know what I’m doing. And I do.’

Man, he could be arrogant sometimes.

‘Oh, yeah?’ I didn’t hide my scepticism, because this was all starting to feel a little ridiculous. ‘How?’

He tapped me lightly on the forehead. ‘You use this.’

I scowled. ‘Hate to break it to you, E, but my clit is not in my forehead.’

Ignoring my joke, he only gave me the most intense, stern look, that made me want to squirm. Then, very lightly, he trailed his finger from my forehead down the centre of my nose to the tip, and then further down, pressing gently in the dip at the top of my lip, before brushing over the curve of my bottom lip, a brief touch on my chin, and then away.

I froze, my heartbeat roaring in my ears like it did after a particularly hard workout at the gym.

It felt like he’d drawn a stripe of fire right down the centre of my face. Like he’d picked up one of the arc welders I had in my garage and turned it on my skin, searing me. My skin burned, my mouth incredibly sensitive.

What the hell had he done? With a single touch. Other guys had touched me before, but it had never felt like that. As if I’d been burned. It was almost too much, too intense. Like if he kept going, kept touching me, I’d break apart or collapse in a puddle of liquid metal at his feet.

‘Oh, yeah,’ he said, nothing but utter certainty in his eyes. ‘This is going to work.’

I swallowed, weirdly unable to look at him. Sure, I’d always had the hots for Everett Calhoun, but I hadn’t expected to respond this strongly to him and I didn’t understand it.

It made me want to shove him away and go back to the hotel, and then maybe get the next plane out. Run straight back to Texas and retreat into my garage, hide under the Maserati someone had brought in last week, lose myself in fiddling with engines. They, at least, were simple.

I couldn’t do that, though. I might have opened a can of worms with this dumb orgasm idea, but closing it now was pointless. Especially since all the worms had escaped.

‘What was that for?’ My voice had gone oddly husky.

Fascinating sparks of green glittered in his blue eyes. ‘Reconnaissance.’

I reached for another joke, trying to put some distance between me and my weird reactions. ‘Well, you know, I’ve been calling this Operation Orgasm in my head so I guess reconnaissance works. I’m kind of on a mission, right?’ I tried to grin. ‘You gotta plan strategy and tactics, that kind of stuff.’

‘Uh-huh,’ Everett said.

A silence fell, yet all I could hear was my voice echoing around the hallway, saying stupid things and trying to be funny. Trying to cover the fact that I was deeply unsure, and failing. And Everett only stood there, an implacable wall in front of me, staring at me, the tension around us getting more intense and electric.

I flushed and tried not to squirm under the pressure of that stare, my head filling up with all kinds of stuff I should say to make the moment less intense. To make myself feel less embarrassed and exposed. To make myself feel less vulnerable. Which was odd when I’d never felt this way around him before.

But my mouth wouldn’t work. He was so...big. His hands had come to rest on my hips again, and they were so hot. And I could smell the familiar scent of his aftershave, fresh and outdoorsy, like a forest on the edge of the sea. I’d always liked the way he smelled. It was sexy and familiar, and it made me feel good.

Except, the kind of good it was making me feel now was almost overwhelming. My heart was beating even faster, a heavy feeling between my thighs.

You’re getting hot for him. Way too hot.

Yeah and getting way too hot for him had never been part of the plan.

‘Dude, looking at me isn’t going to get this orgasm show on the road.’ I tried to sound casual and not at all like I was on the verge of a panic attack. ‘You have to actually do something.’

His stern gaze didn’t even flicker. ‘You’re talking too much again. Which is a good sign. Because if you weren’t nervous, I’d be worried.’

‘Yeah, I don’t think nervousness is a good thing when it comes to coming, if you know what I mean.’ I pushed playfully at his chest. ‘Come on, you’re crowding me here.’

He didn’t move.

‘E.’ I pushed at him again, but it was like trying to move a mountain. A huge, hot mountain. ‘Dude, seriously. I need some air.’

Again, he didn’t move, that intense stare burning right through me. ‘No, you don’t.’

‘Yes, I do. There’s—’

‘Plenty of air. You only feel like there isn’t because you’re breathing very fast.’

‘Yeah, because you’re standing right there and I don’t like—’

‘You do like it.’ He cut me off, his gaze on mine like a searchlight, shining into all the dark corners of my mind that I never went to. ‘You’re turned on by it. And you don’t want to be turned on, do you?’

‘Wow, who knew there’d be this much talking?’ I tried for yet another joke, desperately uncomfortable with the turn of the conversation. ‘Geez, E. Can’t you just go for my clit like a normal man?’

He completely ignored me. ‘You’re fighting it. Why?’

‘I’m not.’

‘You are.’ He shifted and my entire attention was caught by the way his big body moved, the pull of his tux across his shoulders, the stretch of the cotton over his muscular chest. ‘Why don’t you want to be turned on, Little? Is it me? Is it the situation? What?’

I glanced away. The intensity of his gaze was too much, so I tried concentrating on a spot just over one of his powerful shoulders. ‘I told you, I’m a challenge.’

He shifted again and then one of those big, hot hands slid down between my thighs, coming to rest directly over my pussy through my dress.

I went utterly still, shocked. Not so much at how he was touching me, but at my own intense reaction. I stared at him, trembling. Hard.

His thumb moved, exerting a slight pressure on my clit.

‘Holy shit,’ I choked out, the words coming out of me before I could stop them. Because I had no idea what the hell was happening. I was hot, burning up, all the heat concentrated where his hand was, where his thumb was, and on the pressure that was way too much and yet not enough.

‘A challenge?’ Everett murmured, his blue gaze gone turquoise as it searched my face. ‘No, Little. Far from it. You’re seconds from coming already.’

‘I’m not.’ The denial was automatic, because it couldn’t be true. It normally took ages for me to feel good with a guy and I’d usually turn my attentions on him, since that was easier. Sometimes, I could get myself to at least enjoying the proceedings, but I’d never, never got to trembling point at one touch, not like this.

‘Yeah, you are.’ Everett’s gaze was like a laser and I knew he could see my shock, my disbelief. ‘And you thought you were a tough nut to crack, hmm? Too easy, Little. Too easy. So, I’m going to make it harder.’ His focus intensified, making it harder to breathe, my pulse getting faster and faster. ‘You’re not allowed to come, okay?’

I couldn’t move and I couldn’t look away. It was like his stare was a tractor beam, holding me completely immobile. ‘B-But,’ I stuttered, my voice thick and hoarse. ‘Isn’t that the whole point?’

‘Don’t argue. Just do as you’re told.’

‘E—’ I broke off, gasping as his thumb shifted minutely between my thighs, the slight pressure on my clit sending the purest, most exquisite bolt of pleasure radiating through my entire body.

‘Don’t come.’ He virtually growled the order out, shifting again, moving closer so he was almost pressing against me, surrounding me with his heat. ‘If you do, I’ll be very disappointed.’

I barely heard him, too shocked at how my body was reacting and so turned on I could hardly speak. Because he was right. I was seconds away from coming right here in the hallway. All he’d have to do was move his thumb again, and that would be it. I’d be gone.

How was this happening? What was it that was making me feel this way?

Not what. Who.

I stared up at him, unable to do anything else, looking into his fierce blue-green eyes. It was him, wasn’t it? It was him, Everett, making me feel this way. With his height and his power. With that stern Viking stare. With the weird electricity that was crackling between us.

I’d always known I was attracted to him. I’d just never guessed that he would have this effect on me. And if I had...

You would never have come to him for help.

The thought arrowed through me at the same time as voices echoed down the hallway as a group of people came out of the gallery.

I tensed, but Everett didn’t move and neither did that maddening hand between my thighs. ‘E...’ I said shakily. ‘There are people coming.’

‘So?’

‘But I—’

‘Eyes on me, Little.’ He moved even closer as the voices got nearer, not looking away from me, shielding me with his body. And then his thumb moved again, a light touch, sending another bolt of pleasure pulsing along every nerve ending I had.

I bit down on the desperate sound that threatened to break free, trembling harder, going hot, then cold, then breaking out into a sweat. There was a thudding ache between my thighs and a tension coiling right down low inside me.

The group of people was moving past us, but I barely paid attention. The entire world was made up of Everett’s blue eyes looking down into mine, the heat of his body radiating into me, and his hand pressing lightly between my thighs, driving me half out of my mind by doing nothing more than just resting there.

‘E...’ I whispered, not even sure what I was asking for. ‘E, please.’

‘What do you want?’ His thumb moved again, and I shuddered helplessly against the wall. ‘Because if it’s to come, then I’m sorry but the answer is no.’

‘But I...’ I was panting and I must have lifted my hands to his chest at some point because my fingers had curled into the white cotton of his shirt, holding on as if I was about to fall down.

‘No,’ he repeated, iron in his deep voice, a hard glint in his eyes. ‘Don’t you dare make this easy for me.’ And then the bastard moved his thumb once more.

I shuddered, white-hot pleasure almost blinding me. This was insane. I’d spent years trying to get off with guys and now, here I was, in a hallway with my best friend’s hand between my thighs and all I could think about was not coming. Because I wanted to do what he said. I wanted to please him.

‘S-Stop touching me then,’ I stammered.

The green in his eyes glittered like sparks of emerald in a churning blue sea. ‘Try harder.’

But his thumb was pressing down and the pleasure was building, and it becoming impossible to resist. Telling me not to come was like telling a starving woman not to fall face first into a chocolate cake.

I couldn’t drag my gaze away from his, couldn’t stop myself from moving restlessly against the wall, every part of me wanting to press against him, relieve the relentless ache that was building higher and higher. ‘I... I...’ I began.

Everett leaned in, his mouth near my ear, his breath warm on my sensitive skin. ‘Naughty, Little. You can’t stop yourself, can you?’ Then he pressed his thumb down firmly on my clit.

A lightning bolt of pure sensation hit me, sizzling down through my head, along my spine and out through my feet, and my mouth opened, a scream of raw ecstasy trying to escape as the climax hit me, ripping me apart.

But Everett turned and put his lips on mine, capturing my scream, silencing it. And his arms came around me, holding me as I burned to the ground where I stood.

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