by Dylan Newton
Kate used her key card to unlock her door, her face flushing a crimson sunset even as she thrust her chin at him, in challenge, shaking her head.
“Nope. I brought nine.”
Drake had to bow his head and grip the edge of the door to keep himself from coming, fully clothed, in the hallway of the hotel. He’d never been so aroused in all his life. When he was sure he had himself under control, he brought his head back up, chuckling in awe.
“I’m so damn glad you are a planner, Kate Sweet.”
Chapter 19
Kate’s body was as taut as the string on Cupid’s drawn bow as she led Drake into her suite.
Then she caught sight of the full-length mirror on the outside of the suite’s bathroom, and what she saw in the reflection made her gasp.
Her hair was falling out of its updo, and her slip dress was crooked and wrinkled as if she’d slept in it. Her bra cup had been pushed off her breast on one side—the side that Drake had claimed as his own—and her nipple poked against the silk fabric like a bullet. Her lipstick was smeared everywhere except her mouth, and one side of her face was red and abraded where Drake’s whiskers had rubbed against her while she was grinding up on him in the elevator.
“Oh my God, I’m a mess,” Kate whispered to herself, her hand tugging her dress strap up, and then wiping the lipstick smears. Discreetly, she shoved her breast back inside the bra cup, shaking her head in wonderment. “What in the hell am I doing?”
“You’re drop-dead gorgeous. The hottest woman I’ve ever seen. And right now, you’re leading me to your bed, where I can ravish you properly.”
Kate’s traitorous body lit up, and she felt her thighs getting slicker at his words.
Ravish. Yes, please!
Yet her mind raced. What had she just done? How was this man supposed to respect her when she’d told him to put his hand under her dress in a freaking elevator? Who did that? Respectable people didn’t do that. Professionals didn’t let their clients practically finger them in a public space. Then she’d admitted she’d bought an apocalypse-worthy stockpile of Trojans for the night! She needed to stop this before she humiliated herself even more.
“Drake, I—” Kate paused as he took off his tux coat and his necktie with fingers that she knew were crazy dexterous. Thinking of those fingers, her insides pulsed to life, but she shook it off, finishing her thought. “I feel like I may be pushing the boundaries. Kissing you in public and then what I just did with you in the elevator…that’s not me. At least, not normally. That was really unprofessional, and—”
She stopped speaking as Drake finished unbuttoning his shirt. He nodded at her as he worked at the buttons on his wrist.
“It was unprofessional. But so. Very. Hot.” Drake finished with the buttons and then stripped the whole shirt off, revealing those abs. “Do you have any idea how many times I’ve dreamed about you? Any idea how many ways I’ve fantasized about taking you?”
He’d fantasized about her? Kate’s mouth went dry even as other parts of her grew wetter. “You…you have? When? Wh-where?”
Drake’s lips widened in a slow, seductive smile as he nodded, closing the distance between them, tossing his shirt aside.
“I’d say it would be cliché if I said it was from the moment we first met, but considering your legs were wrapped around my hips, my hands were on your ass, and your nipple was about an inch from my mouth, I’d have to say that was the first time—that day. On my front lawn.”
Kate giggled, her stomach jittery with anticipation as her mind replayed the scene, but from his vantage point. She crept closer to him, putting her palm against those very much not Photoshopped abs. “When else?”
“In my kitchen that day when you made me your crunchy scrambled eggs. I thought about taking you on the counter first and then—” He paused, using one hand to work on the button and fly of his pants, while with the other, he cupped her head, tugging her closer.
Kate kissed him, his warm mouth tasting of whiskey and sin. She helped him shove his pants to the floor, followed by his briefs, and the sight of his erection made her thighs clench with anticipation. “And then what?”
Drake’s hands snaked around her, those strong fingers finding the zipper in the back of her dress and easing it open.
“Then, I thought I’d carry you to that vintage kitchen table you like so much,” he said, his mouth nuzzling her neck as her dress slithered off her to the floor, as if eager to obey his command. “Because, you know, it’s not all about me. So, I’d strip you down, and I’d get to know every, single, gorgeous inch of your body. Like this…”
He unhooked her strapless bra, and her skin tingled and blossomed into gooseflesh as he eased the silk off her breasts. His head dipped down, mouth covering first one breast, then the other, the whiskers of his jaw tickling her as his teeth grazed her nipple, alternately nibbling and sucking at her as his hands moved to her back, tipping her backward to gain greater access to her body. Only her black heels remained on as he guided her back to the bed, touching and kissing her until she thought she might explode from the anticipation.
“Let me just take these off,” she gasped between kisses, reaching around him to tug her feet out of the black stilettos. “So I don’t accidentally stab you.”
“Keep them on,” he growled, grinning. “My favorite fantasy involved you on my bed. Wearing only those.”
Drake eased her down until she was lying beneath him, his erection a hot lead weight against her stomach. She touched him, her hand sliding along the length of his shaft, enjoying the way he hissed in a breath, growing very still over her, as she explored him with her hands.
“You’ve got to stop that, or I won’t be able to complete my promise to ravish you,” he said, levering himself onto his elbow. He removed his glasses and laid them on the table. “These are in my way.” Then with a wolfish smile, he captured both her wrists in one hand and pulled them over her head.
Kate gasped as his mouth descended upon her breast, teasing and sucking on the nipple, while his free hand swept over her other breast. He proceeded to kiss and nibble down the length of her, caressing her skin until Kate’s reservations were shredded by his single-minded attention, and her body strained toward him, her thighs quivering. His mouth was like liquid fire, and his tongue! The things he did with his tongue…
“Drake,” she panted, wriggling out from under his ministrations. “In my suitcase…the mesh pouch on the inside of the lid…”
It was like he’d acquired his own superhero powers, so fast did he leave the bed, find the condoms, and return to kissing her body right where he’d left off, as if he’d mentally bookmarked the place. He took his mouth from her long enough to rip a foil package open with his teeth, sliding on the condom one-handed, while he kissed down her abdomen.
She wriggled under him, willing him to enter her. Yet he continued to kiss and fondle her, as if unaware of how desperate she was for release. Then a thought hit her.
“I’m on birth control,” she panted, “so we’re doubly protected, if that’s what you’re waiting for.”
Drake picked his head up from where he’d been kissing and licking his way up in a path from her navel to her other breast, and he stared at her. His amber eyes, so much darker without his glasses, were trained on hers in the room’s half-light, and his teeth gleamed as he grinned.
“Good to know. But what I was waiting for,” he said, releasing her hands to cup the hot flesh between her legs, “was this.”
His fingers sought and found how wet she was, and his touch made Kate moan. She brought her hands around to his biceps, squeezing the muscles there, and then around to trace the front of his exquisitely sculpted chest.
Something he’d said before stuck in her head, caught in her imagination like it was a dream catcher for the naughty and erotic.
“Wait,” she gasped, tugging his face back up to hers to gaze in his deep, golden eyes. “You said your best fantasy was me in your bed. In these shoes. Tel
l me what you fantasized about.”
He gave a wicked smile. “How about I narrate while I show you?”
Kate’s eyes widened as he lifted himself off her.
“First, I’d kiss those beautiful lips, like this.” Drake’s mouth was on hers, soft at first, then demanding entry as he explored her with his tongue. He stopped long enough to continue his narration. “Then, I’d kiss my way down here.”
Kate’s back arched as his mouth covered first one breast, sucking on the nipple, then the other. Kate groaned. “Th-then what?”
“Then, I’d take these long, gorgeous legs like this.” Drake’s hands swept down her thighs, and he hooked his arms under her knees, and he spread her legs wide. “And I’d think to myself, ‘I am the luckiest guy on earth right now.’ And then I’d do this.”
Kate moaned as he entered her, slowly, as if he had all night. Feverishly, Kate wondered if that was, indeed, his plan.
She hoped so.
At first, Drake continued to tell her the details of his fantasy as he acted it out, the whispered words tickling her neck and igniting her imagination as they found their rhythm together. But then, passion got the best of him, and Drake’s mouth was too busy on her lips, her neck, her breasts to narrate any longer.
Kate’s breath came in rhythmic gasps, and she clutched his back, pulling him closer as he drove into her, her thighs tightening around him as she spiraled toward the edge.
Then, all at once, her climax overtook her, and she cried out, arcing into him.
“You’re so beautiful,” he breathed, riding her, wringing every last spasm from her body. Then, his rhythm became erratic and he drove into her one last time, and Kate felt each pulse of his release as he groaned.
They lay there, panting, until Drake propped himself up on one arm to gaze down at her. His eyes were almost brown in the room’s soft light, and he responded to her smile with one of his own.
“There’s my favorite punctuation,” he said, kissing the spot to the left of her lips. “I think you’ll always give me pause, Kate Sweet.”
Kate opened her mouth to say something but was interrupted by her own stomach, growling loudly. She ducked her head with an embarrassed laugh.
“Apparently, the pause is for food right now,” Drake said, kissing her forehead as he rolled off her. “How about we order room service?”
They ate in the room, wearing hotel bathrobes, turning off their cell phones and putting the Do Not Disturb sign on the door. It should’ve been awkward, but to Kate’s surprise it was anything but—they laughed, joked, and rehashed the evening downstairs. When the laughter morphed into touching, and then to kisses, they fell into bed as if it were the easiest thing to do.
They napped on and off that night, each time waking up in each other’s arms, each time hungry for more. Kate knew she’d feel him there for days afterward, but she couldn’t seem to get enough of the smell and the taste of him.
She didn’t want the night to end, but eventually, she really did fall asleep. She woke to Drake kissing her head.
“You sleep,” he said. “I’ve already brewed some coffee for you over there, and I’m going to hop in the shower.”
Kate mumbled something, pushing the hair out of her eyes as she sat up, blinking away the fog.
“You’re not leaving, are you?”
Drake smiled, his finger tracing her naked breast. “I have to fly to New York City to do a couple of talk shows. Imani set it all up as a three-day media blitz because she knows I hate this crap. But the car service taking you back to Wellsville won’t be here until later this morning, so you rest. Soon, it’s back to reality for both of us.”
Drake closed the door to the bathroom.
Kate groaned, flopping back down on the bed.
“But this is so much better than reality!”
Ten minutes later, Kate was in a hotel robe, teeth brushed and a coffee cup in her hand as she leaned her forehead against the glass of the window, staring down at the majesty of the falls below.
Drake came up behind her, and Kate loved the feel of his warm body against her back. He’d already showered and dressed in a black suit, white shirt, and the black tie with its black stripes, having readied himself for the day with a speed only a man could manage.
“If I wrote this scene, I’d have the shows all canceled, so you’d have to stay,” Kate announced. “And we’d go down and ride that boat into the mist.”
“And if I wrote the scene, a kraken would emerge, wrap the boat in its tentacles, and drag it down to the craggy depths,” Drake said, kissing her shoulder. “I like your version better.”
She sighed, tipping her head back to lie against his chest as they both gazed out at the dawn rising over the falls. The water cascading over the edge, flinging itself against the rocks below, was mesmerizing in its never-ending abandon to get the fall over with—to get to a place of calm waters and steady normalcy. How long had she been constantly rushing toward a goal, never realizing a cliff was just ahead, but sprinting toward it, nevertheless, because what else was there except her career? Maybe Drake was the guy she’d never thought was out there? Her mind snagged on the speed-dating question—the one she was sure differentiated the “right guy” from the rest.
She held her breath, wondering if she should ask Drake. What if he gave the wrong answer?
Then she saw the waters rushing, and she took the plunge, asking it all in one breath.
“Drake, I have a question: do you think you could handle dating a woman with a rising career who wouldn’t be available most weekends or holidays for the foreseeable future?”
Drake laughed. “That’s easy. Of course! The real question is can you handle a man who’s already at the top of his career, but hates the spotlight and spends most of his days on a laptop, mumbling to himself? Whose muse doesn’t care if it’s weekday or weekend?”
Kate spun in his arms. “No, I’m serious. I have goals. Literal poster boards of them, and the lives of really successful event planners involve sacrifices most men aren’t willing to make.”
“Okay,” he said, shrugging. “Assuming we’re talking about you and me, here, you do realize that even though I have a fifties-era kitchen, I’m not looking for a fifties-era woman?”
Kate scoffed. “That’s a good quote, but in reality, don’t all guys expect a woman to…I don’t know? Be around all the time, while still having a career? I just don’t ever want us to be in a position where I’m spinning plates, trying to balance being wildly successful in my career, yet you’re unhappy because I’m not there to—”
“Cook? Clean?” Drake shook his head, planting a kiss above her eyebrows. “If this is directed at me, let me assure you my mother didn’t raise any Momma’s boys. She didn’t have time. As a mostly single parent, she taught us that part of being a real man was to cook and clean. Do the dishes. Dust. All of it.”
“But it’s more than that. It’s cuddling. Date nights. Helping act out your book scenes, while you make me your amazing Cobb salad. You don’t understand. During wedding season, especially, I’m barely home,” Kate said, knowing she was making a bigger deal of this than she needed to, considering the newness of their relationship, but she couldn’t help thinking about her bleak, gray apartment. “I can barely keep my succulent alive, let alone do the little and big things you need to grow or sustain a relationship.”
“Kate.” Drake gripped her shoulders, his scowl fading into a slow, warm smile. “I can write anywhere, including ice-cold attics, remember? My office consists of a laptop and a few file folders. Those are immensely portable. And let’s not forget, I do make a mean Cobb salad.”
Her shoulders relaxed, and she let him pull her into a tight embrace, sighing in contentment. “You’re right. Good answers, by the way. You get top prize.”
“Mmm. I like that you’re worrying about ‘us’ in the future tense.” Drake kissed the top of her head as they both stared out of the window at the sky growing pink behind the gray-white vis
ta of Niagara Falls. His breath stirred her hair as he spoke. “I wish I didn’t have to leave for those interviews. I’d rather be heading back with you to Wellsville. Or better yet, I’d rather just be canceling the whole damn launch to stay here with you. In bed.”
“It has been almost like a dream, being here with you,” Kate whispered, her fingers tracing up and down Drake’s arms as he embraced her from behind. “I keep worrying that I’m going to wake up soon, and it’ll all have been just a figment of my imagination. You know, like they do in novels when they want to trick you into thinking the main characters actually got together? But you know that’s impossible, because there are still a few chapters in the book?”
Drake didn’t answer, and Kate shook her head with a snort of laughter.
“Oh, never mind. You’ve probably never read a single romance novel in your life, so you don’t know what I mean.”
Drake’s silence seemed heavy, and she turned to look at him. His expression was almost pained, and immediately, she regretted telling him her innermost thoughts. But then he gave a rueful chuckle, his lips brushing against hers.
“Actually, I do know. Before I leave, I have something I want to show you.”
The last thing Kate expected to hear was that Drake had written a historical romance—that, in fact, he’d wanted to write this romance for more than a decade but felt chained to his horror deadlines.
“It’s only in this last month, working with you, that I’ve realized I can’t bottle up what’s inside me,” Drake said, moving toward the small table in the suite, grabbing his backpack. “For years, I’ve had this idea for a story loosely based on the letters my grandfather sent Nana during World War II—the ones you saw in the attic—and ideas from the heroism and tragedy based on my brother Ryker’s experience in combat. These past few months, writing that tale was all I wanted to do, but I couldn’t figure out the sweeping, epic love story aspect of it. Until recently. Then, it came pouring out into what I think is a pretty damn good book.”