by Lucy Leroux
She gave herself a little shake. “I don’t know why I’m telling you this. You’re like Patrick in a way. It’s far too easy to tell you things I shouldn’t.”
Peyton beamed. “It’s a gift. Rest assured, whatever you tell me, I will keep to myself. Ask Maggie when she gets back. I’m a vault.” She gripped Tahlia’s hand before letting go to scribble on a post-it. “If you need anything or if the guys get too overbearing, call me. This is my extension. It will forward to my cell phone if I’m walking the halls.”
Tahlia mumbled her thanks, her throat tight with emotion. She tucked the post-it into a pocket. “I don’t know how I ended up here. It almost doesn’t seem real, having so many people concerned for my welfare.”
Peyton tilted her head contemplatively. “Actually…now that you mention it, caring about women in distress is kind of our thing.”
Puzzled, Tahlia raised an eyebrow.
“I can show you.” Peyton stood. “Come with me.”
She led her to a large storage closet across the room. As soon as they crossed the threshold, a motion sensor turned the lights on.
“What is this?” She was staring at shelf after shelf full of toys.
Tahlia picked up a small brown teddy bear from the nearest one. It was one of dozens in different colors. There were also trucks and dolls, a few handheld video games, and lots of books. On the other side of the room was another shelf stocked with nondescript black backpacks. Each appeared to be filled.
“These supplies are for our special gold shield rooms. At every Caislean hotel, the reservation desk holds back a couple of rooms for women in difficult circumstances. Most of them are leaving an abusive boyfriend or husband. They’re referred to the hotel by their local domestic abuse hotline when the circumstances are extreme enough. It’s usually when they don’t have room at the local shelter, or their partner poses too high a risk for that to be a safe option.”
She indicated the bear Tahlia was holding. “It was Trick’s idea to keep new toys on hand. When they run, it’s often a woman with small kids. Often, they’re forced to leave everything behind. It happened so frequently Trick started stashing toys in his office. Eventually, we got organized and set up this closet. The backpacks are for the moms. Each is filled with toiletries, underclothes, a t-shirt, and track pants. There’s even a preloaded disposable cell phone in there.”
“Wow.” Tahlia blinked as a sudden thought occurred to her. “Does Liam know?”
Peyton’s grin was wry. “Everyone always asks that. They assume, and I don’t blame them, that because he’s such a bottom-line kind of guy that he either doesn’t know or puts up with it because Maggie and Trick teamed up on him.”
She settled against a shelf and crossed her arms. “Let me tell you a story. A couple of years ago, a new hotshot assistant manager started here. It was a busy conference week. The holidays were approaching, so the hotel was at capacity. This guy had been warned that the gold shield rooms were off limits, but both Trick and Maggie happened to be out of town overseeing events at other hotels. The new guy thought he was being smart by renting out the rooms. He thought Liam would approve—right up until we got a call that a woman and her daughter needed a place to stay and it was an emergency.”
“Wow. What happened?”
Peyton leaned in. “Her psycho ex was right on their heels. One of the supply vans went to pick them up, only for us to discover the rooms had been rented out. Not five minutes later, Liam was down in the main office tearing the guy a new one. They could hear him yelling all the way down to the kitchens. That manager never made the same mistake again. No one does.”
She broke off and pointed to the backpacks. “Those were actually Liam’s idea. Trick is great at figuring out ways to help, but he’s not detail-oriented. Liam’s the practical one. He’s the one who realized a woman in those circumstance probably needs an extra pair of clean underclothes. Liam is also the one who makes sure the toys are reordered when we run low. Trick sometimes forgets. Liam doesn’t ever mention it of course. The one time I thanked him for doing it, he looked at me as if I were crazy. Then he told me not to bother him unless it was an emergency.” She sniffed. “He’s at his rudest when you’re trying to be nice to him.”
Tahlia felt terrible. “I’m sorry I misjudged him.”
“Oh, don’t be.” Peyton laughed. “Most of the time Liam deserves to be judged. He can be an ass.”
Her friend’s bright demeanor didn’t last. When they went back to Peyton’s control center, the video feed showed Liam in close conversation to a woman in a tight tailored skirt suit. The elegantly coiffed stranger was touching his chest possessively.
All the light faded from Peyton’s face.
The change was so dramatic, Tahlia knew something was wrong. “Who is that?” she asked softly.
Peyton turned away, shutting off the feeds before filling her screen with a series of commands Tahlia couldn’t make sense of.
“Her name is Caroline Wentworth. Her father owns a small boutique chain. She and Liam see each other on and off. Mostly on, recently.”
“Oh.” Tahlia didn’t know what to say.
Maia had once mentioned something over coffee one day at work. Peyton only has eyes for one man, and he is the only one who doesn’t know how she feels.
That conversation had taken place after they all met for drinks one night, right after Peyton tossed the number of a hot guy who’d hit on her into a street bin.
Maia hadn’t mentioned any names, but Tahlia guessed she knew what it was now.
“I don’t suppose you want to go up to the tearoom and get a scone?” She wasn’t hungry, but anything seemed preferable to staying here where Peyton could watch the man she loved with another woman in a few keystrokes.
“I think you’re going to be busy.” Peyton’s eyes were shiny, but she made a half-hearted effort at smiling.
Tahlia followed the other girl’s gaze to see Patrick entering the security room.
She took a moment to admire how well his tall, muscled form filled out his blue suit.
Dear Lord, I’m actually salivating. She hurriedly turned back to Peyton.
The other woman nudged her lightly. “Don’t worry. Now that you’re staying here, I’m sure we’ll get many chances to hang out.”
“Okay, if you’re sure. Unless you want to go get a manicure now—Patrick won’t mind if we hit the spa, do you?” she asked as he joined them.
“No, go on with Trick,” Peyton replied, an amused glint returning to her eye. “I suppose I should try and get a little work done,” she added airily.
“That’s what we pay you the medium bucks for.” Trick grinned at her before offering Tahlia his arm. She took it instead of the cane, turning back to Peyton when they reached the door.
Tahlia couldn’t be sure given the distance, but it appeared a corner of one of Peyton’s screens was back on the reception feed from the penthouse offices.
Chapter 19
Trick ushered Tahlia back into his suite with a hand on the small of her back. She set the cane down against the couch with a stiff smile.
“When you said you wanted to play cards I assumed you meant next door.”
“We can go there if you want,” he said, gesturing to the adjoining door. “But all my fresh decks are here. Why don’t I grab one and we can switch?”
“Oh, it’s okay,” Tahlia said, her cheeks a deep pink. She turned away, her finger trailing along the back of the sofa as she walked to the windows.
He studied her averted eyes with a pang in his chest. “Is something wrong?”
Tahlia dipped her head and stayed quiet.
Trick hid his disappointment. After spending every free moment with her this week, he believed she’d grown comfortable around him. They’d cuddled on the couch watching television and talked for hours after sharing gourmet meals in the dining alcove. Why was she so hesitant with him now?
She cleared her throat. “I feel better, but I’m having a hard t
ime. You see, I really want to be with you…”
Oh.
“I want that, too,” he said slowly. “But we can take as long as you need,” he added with as much conviction as he could muster.
Truthfully, waiting was hellish for him. Being close to her while keeping the magnitude of his desire in check had been a challenge. In his youth, Trick hadn’t practiced much self-restraint when it came to women. Discretion—yes. While he’d played fast and loose in his teens and early twenties, after the success of the hotel, he’d been forced to be more discerning about the women he socialized with.
Making bank with the hotel chain put a target on his back, more so than his brother. As the more easygoing of the pair, he was the one in the crosshairs of every gold-digger in Manhattan. Consequently, he’d been forced to be more careful. Nevertheless, when he wanted a companion, ladies in his sphere were ready and willing.
With Tahlia, he needed to tread carefully. His desire for her was an order of magnitude greater than anything he’d felt before.
The subject of this earthshaking hunger was picking at her nails. “That’s not exactly what I mean. I want to be close to you. It’s just…I won’t know what to do.”
Wait. Was she telling him what he thought she was telling him? If so, this was going to require some tactful ingenuity. He wanted her to be comfortable taking the next step.
Inspiration struck as he caught sight of the stack of sealed decks on his bookshelf.
“I have an idea,” he said, taking one down. He walked to the dining table and wagged his fingers at her.
“What are we doing?”
His smile grew devilish. “Strip poker.”
Tahlia laughed aloud. “Seriously? Aren’t you afraid of getting whipped again?”
Trick waggled his eyebrows. “Oh, I’m comfortable in my skin. But what makes you think you’re going to win this time? I’ve played in every major casino in this hemisphere against players of all stripes—including one or two legends. I think my odds are pretty good.”
“All right, then. If you’re sure…” Tahlia sat at the table, holding her hand out for the deck.
A half hour later, he was naked except for a single vicuna sock—which he’d chosen to wear someplace other than his foot.
The game started well enough for him. He’d won the first hand.
Blushing a rosy pink, Tahlia’s eyes widened when she saw his cards.
“Why don’t you start with your shoe?” he suggested.
She tittered nervously and toed off one of the sneakers Peyton lent her. “Don’t get too cocky. It’s only a shoe.”
He grinned unrepentantly, shuffling and dealing by rote. “Be prepared to lose the other one. I’m coming after that sock, too.”
“Really?” she asked, a corner of her mouth lifted.
“Oh, yeah.”
Lifting her cards, the amused expression on her face melted away to nothing. Poker face securely on, she dropped two cards on the table, which he quickly replaced.
She won with three of a kind. He removed his tie with a flourish, tossing it aside the way a stripper would.
Two pair. His left shoe, which was quickly followed by the right.
“Are you sure you’re not throwing this game?” Tahlia asked when a straight cost him his shirt.
“Nope.” He laughed, glad he’d kept up his sparring routine with Liam this week. His pecs were as defined as they were ever going to get. He wanted to be at his best around her.
“My goal was to get both of us undressed. Or, if I’m being honest, just you.”
Tahlia snorted. “How’s that plan working out?”
“Not good,” he admitted.
She hummed, taking his pants with the next hand. By the time she laid down a flush against his three of a kind, he was down to his boxers and the sock.
Well, this hasn’t gone as planned. But Trick wouldn’t be Trick if he didn’t make the best of the situation.
Time to go big or go home.
“Feel free to close your eyes,” he teased, still incredulous at how badly this had gone for him.
Trick stood and turned his back. He peeked over his shoulder with a wink as he slowly dragged the waistband of his shorts down, exposing his pale ass.
He wiggled. “You might not want to stare directly at this. I skipped the run to Turks and Caicos this year, so this area hasn’t gotten a lot of sun. There’s a chance you might be blinded by my extreme paleness. But I am toned, something that might be better demonstrated by feel,” he joked, flexing his glutes as he surreptitiously replaced the shorts with the sock.
He rose, mimicking the exaggerated bend and snap Reese Witherspoon popularized in one of her movies—hand movements included.
Tahlia’s laughter was so loud he didn’t hear the door opening.
“What the hell are you doing?” Liam asked.
Trick whirled. His brother was standing in the open doorway, a sheath of papers in one hand and his phone in the other.
Crap.
“He’s losing at strip poker,” Tahlia offered helpfully.
Liam’s habitual scowl faded as he broke into an ear-to-ear grin. “You’re losing again?”
He lifted his phone and quickly snapped a pic. “Calen has to see this,” he chortled.
“Hey asshole, don’t even think about it!” Trick hurried to the couch. He clutched one of the throw pillows in front of him, tossing another at his brother’s head.
Liam batted it away, tossing the papers on the nearest chair. “Sign those before tomorrow. They go out first thing in the morning.”
He was gone before Trick could think of a sufficiently acerbic comeback. When he turned back to the table, it was empty and the connecting door was standing open.
Calm down, Tahlia ordered herself sternly. She’d been caught up in Trick’s lighthearted game just now, but the minute Liam walked in on them, it was as if she’d been doused with cold water.
You need to get over this. She was allowed to have a life. There was no one stopping her anymore. Except you.
Rubbing her arms, she shifted to the window. The sun was starting to go down, but the lights in the neighboring high-rises were already turning on.
“Tahlia?”
Patrick was standing at the door of her bedroom, a pillow the only thing keeping his privates private.
Her eyes widened as he dropped the pillow, pulling off the sock he’d jokingly placed there. His face deadly serious, he walked toward her.
Breath quickening, Tahlia retreated instinctively, jumping when her back hit the cold glass of the window.
Patrick didn’t stop until he was standing righting front of her. He wasn’t wearing a stitch, but nothing in his manner betrayed the slightest hint of awkwardness.
Of course, he had nothing to be embarrassed about. His long lean form was nothing short of glorious. He wasn’t as bulky like his brother, but every muscle in his arms and chest was perfect and defined. It was as if he’d been carved by an obsessive-compulsive sculptor. Every line of him was right where it was supposed to be, nothing superfluous, nothing in excess. His body was spare and flawless.
Well, not everything is spare. She blushed, averting her eyes from his proudly jutting cock.
Patrick’s chiseled arms settled on either side of her, effectively trapping her against the glass.
“How did I lose the upper hand here?” she marveled, almost to herself.
He was the one standing there with nothing but a smile. How was it that she felt exposed?
His grin was pure sin. “Well, I know one way we can get back on an even footing.”
He knelt to untie her shoe, before going for the waistband of her borrowed jeans. His hands skimmed down the sensitive skin of her thighs, sending tingles all the way down to her ankles.
Tahlia stepped out her pants, her heart racing. Patrick guided her arms, until she was wrapping them around his neck. They whirled, and she was suddenly on the bed, pinned underneath all his rough satin heat.
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Her top and bra melted away. Dressed in only her panties, she trembled as his fiery openmouthed kiss wiped her brain of coherent thought.
Her body burned as skin met skin. Trick stroked and teased, nibbling all along her neck until she was seething and writhing under his touch.
Nothing she’d ever experienced came close to this. Her hands shook as she explored his chest, running her fingers over his six-pack and the unreal little cleft at his hips. No magazine fitness model could match him.
“I love how wet you are,” Patrick said in her ear, sucking the delicate lobe into his mouth as his hand drifted to trace the seam between her legs.
Shuddering, Tahlia pressed against his hand, awkwardly trying to satisfy the unfamiliar hunger clawing at her. The foreign drumbeat of lust made her heart race. She ran her hands over the taut muscles of his back, pressing him closer with a whimper.
“Shh…” Patrick soothed, his tongue darting out to lick her lips. “I’m going to take care of you, Ace.”
He lifted his head, his eyes black with desire. “I don’t suppose there’s any way you’re on the pill?”
“N-no.”
Trick rolled over, exposing her heated body to the cool air. He stood over her, taking a foil packet out of his pant pocket. She watched with parted lips as he rolled the condom on impatiently, before crawling back on the bed like a hungry predator.
He put his lips to her bare breast, sucking her nipple into his mouth. He lathed the tip, making her cry out and arch before moving his attention to the other one. His hand gripped her hips, pulling down her panties in one smooth move.
“Open your legs for me, baby,” he whispered against her mouth.
Returning his kiss, she tremulously obeyed, gasping when he settled against her before slowly sliding down.
Tahlia’s eyes fluttered closed as he bent, his mouth moving over her most intimate flesh. He licked and gently bit, using his hands to open her.
Her nipples pebbled as her hips began to rise and fall in time with his rhythm. Hot and flushed, she squirmed, forcing him to hold her down. She lost all sense of time, transforming into a creature of pure sensation.