by Lily Harlem
I nodded.
Has he been teasing me about his piercing? Does he really have one?
“So.” Ray smiled, almost, but not quite patronizingly. “How did it feel in the ‘velodrome’ when you came in first? When you stood up on that platform and had an Olympic gold medal hung around your neck.”
I felt myself grinning. I always did when I thought of that moment. The pinnacle of years and years of sacrifice and training. “It was awesome. I felt like I could fly to the moon and back without a rocket.”
Ray laughed. “Well I guess if there was a path there you could cycle there and back.”
The fake audience laughed in my ear. I was just pleased I’d been able to contribute to the interview without becoming a meltdown of sexual frustration.
“And, Brick, who’s going to win the Stanley Cup this year?”
“Vipers again, of course.” He nodded confidently.
There was a cheer down my earpiece.
“So, now, the moment you’ve been waiting for.” Ray turned to the camera “The official video to go with Promises and Dreams is here. New and exclusive, please settle back, enjoy, and don’t forget to put your hands in your pockets and buy Promises and Dreams, recorded by Florida’s finest athletes.”
Wild applause filled my earpiece, then the opening bars of our cheesy song rang out then faded.
The red light on top of the camera flicked off and I glanced at the door. The On Air sign had stopped blinking. Suddenly everyone was moving around again, talking and fiddling with equipment. I dragged in a deep breath and wished my nipples would stop tingling.
“Excellent,” Ray said, standing. “Well done, perfect slices of information interjected with humor and wit.” He grinned broadly and turned to a pretty member of the crew who was offering him a glass of water.
I glanced at Brick. He was looking straight at me, his eyes an even deeper forest green under the harsh studio lights. They looked almost unreal, hypnotizing with those slices of gold glinting in his irises. “That went well,” I said, trying not to fall under his spell.
He shifted his body nearer. So near his thigh pressed against mine and heat from his arm radiated onto my skin. “Yeah, honey,” he said quietly. “But it’s all going to get so much better when we get outta here.”
I caught in a breath, gave up the fight and became lost in his eyes and the spiced buttery scent of him that had become like a drug to me. “Why?” I managed. “What’s happening when we get out of here?”
“When we get out of here,” his voice deepened, “I’m going to fuck you.” One corner of his mouth curled up and his eyes narrowed. “I’m going to fuck you hard and fast and there’ll be an explosion of the really good stuff.” He moved his face so near our noses touched. “Don’t deny you want it, Carly Flannigan, because I know you do and I know exactly how you want it, too.”
The background noise in my earpiece went quiet.
Deadly quiet.
My heart stuttered. A ton of rubble dropped in my stomach.
Shit!
The whole studio, absolutely everyone, had heard what Brick had just said.
Shit!
Brick pulled his head back and swallowed. I watched him rub a hand over his brow and then around the base of his neck as he realized his mistake.
Feeling the color run from my cheeks, I looked up to be greeted with a sea of stunned faces already turned my way.
Shit!
I snapped away from Brick, removed all body contact and glanced at Ray.
He was staring down at us with a mixture of shock and amusement on his face. There was a certain amount of smugness, too, as if he’d just been proven right. He opened his mouth but no words came out.
The girl standing next to him holding out his water had a similar expression on her face. Surprise, horror, amusement, plus a certain interest, as though she’d just scooped a story.
“Shall we, er…” A sound guy rushed over and started snapping wires from the back of Brick’s shirt. He plucked the microphone from his collar. “Shall we just take this off, sir?” His fingers worked quickly and efficiently.
“Er, yeah, I guess,” Brick said with a smile and a huff.
I frowned at him. This was not funny. This was hugely embarrassing.
I glanced at a cameraman. He was staring at me as though seeing me for the first time. The young guy holding up a cable was suppressing a giggle into his armpit.
“Get this off me,” I said, popping out my earpiece and yanking at my own microphone. I reached and fiddled with the wire at the knot of my halter. It was stuck— tight—and made me claustrophobic.
“Here we go, sweetheart,” the boom man said, laying his stick on the couch opposite. He began to unloop wire for me and unattached the small black box from the waistband of my jeans.
“Thanks,” I snapped when he’d pulled it free.
I stood and held out my hand to Ray. “Thanks for having me and giving Promises and Dreams the publicity it deserves,” I said briskly.
He took my hand. His eyes twinkled. “My pleasure,” he said. “Any time.”
I walked as quickly as I could between cameras, over cables and out of the studio. I dashed to the makeup room, grabbed my purse and headed for the front of the building.
Stepping out onto bustling Sixth Avenue, I hailed a cab and jumped inside.
“Carly!”
I twisted and saw Brick racing out of the studio’s automatic doors. I was irritated that he’d been so indiscreet but I still wanted him more than anything else in the world.
“Wait,” I said to the taxi driver. “Someone is riding with me to the Waldorf.”
Brick pulled open the door and sank next to me. “Why did you rush off like that?” he asked breathlessly.
“I was embarrassed.” I frowned. “Everyone in there heard what you just said about…” I lowered my voice, “fucking me.”
There was a glint of mischief in his eyes. “So?”
“So, I thought you’d be embarrassed, too. I thought you didn’t like gossip, didn’t like the press discussing your love life.” I frowned and crossed my legs, jigged my stiletto in the air in a fast rhythm.
“I don’t particularly like my love life being common knowledge.” He shrugged. “But what can I do now?”
“Well, after what you just said, us leaving together adds even more fuel to the gossip. Can you imagine what they’ll all be saying, thinking?” I studied my fingers, knotted in my lap. “Especially if you’ve just run like a nut through the place to catch up with me.”
“Honey, I don’t care what they’re saying or thinking, ’cause it’s not going to be anywhere near as good as actually doing it.” He hooked his index finger under my chin and tilted my head to his. “I may be a nut, Carly, but I know what I want.”
I stared into his hungry gaze and my chest tightened in anticipation. His voice, his smell, his body so close to mine was enough to turn me into a quivering pile of aching need.
“If I could take back everyone hearing I would,” he whispered, leaning so close his lips practically touched mine. “But I wouldn’t take back what I said, because that, sexy lady, is exactly what’s going to happen when we get to the hotel.”
The heat of his breath trickled across my cheek and down my neck and I knew I would forgive him anything. He pressed his lips to mine, dipped his tongue in and began a lazy dance. It was soft and gentle but with the promise of sin. Lots of sin. Good, hot sin.
Summoning my willpower, I broke the kiss and looked out the window. Rockefeller Center whizzed past. I had to stick to my plan. If I let him bury himself in me, as he’d so eloquently described it, then I’d be nothing more than a one-night stand. I had to keep him hanging on for more. Give him some but not all. Trouble was, the more time I spent with him, the more I felt my soul was connecting with his. Not giving in and throwing myself at him like a willing victim was going to be hard. Really hard.
Stick to the plan, Carly, I repeated in my head like a mant
ra as he wound his fingers with mine and drew my knuckles to his mouth. His hot breath washed over my hand, slipped up my arm and settled deep in my chest.
Stick to the damn plan.
Chapter Five
I handed the cab driver a twenty and alighted outside the Waldorf. The doorman tipped his top hat as we pushed through the rotating doors into the creamy light of the foyer.
I didn’t pause to admire the opulent decor.
Instead my heels rapped on the marble floor as we strutted past reception. We paced by several deep lounging chairs and a table overflowing with pink orchids. Brick placed his hand in the small of my back and guided me toward the elevators. “Your room or mine?” he asked.
“Yours.” I had what I needed in my purse.
He gave me the most indecent smile I’d ever received. Triumph, lust and cheekiness mixed with softness, patience and desire. My heart fluttered and my skin prickled. He thought he was in control. That he had me where he wanted me. Well, I was just about to show him he’d met his match. Or rather, I was going to do my best to show him he’d met his match.
He pressed number eight.
We stood in silence and waited for the elevator to reach ground level.
The doors pinged open. An elderly gentleman with a newspaper under his arm wandered out.
We stepped in.
The second the door whooshed shut, his body slammed into mine. I staggered backward and found myself pinned against the smoky mirrored walls. I gasped but it was lost in his frantic kiss. My purse fell to the floor. Unbalanced, I reached up for his shoulders and hung on to solid muscles as I teetered on my heels.
His hands roamed my hips and waist. “You’re driving me crazy,” he murmured as he stooped to spread kisses down my neck. “Like, really, actually crazy. You’re all I can think about, you’re all I want.”
I let out a whimper of lust and curled my fingers into him. I didn’t know how I was going to stay standing, I was so dizzy with desire.
His mouth was at the hollow of my throat, licking and kissing and sucking. His hands smoothed under my top, up over my stomach. My flesh trembled. What plan? He carried on determinedly over my ribs until he cupped my softly curved flesh.
I moaned in delight at feeling his hands on my breasts for the first time. So big and strong and hot. So hot.
Trapped between the wall and his huge body, I arched for more. I wanted him to touch me all over.
“God, you feel amazing.” He nipped and kissed my collarbone. Then my top was up, up around my neck, the material bunched and shoved out of his way in one deft flick of his wrists.
I was vaguely aware of the elevator pinging up the floors. But the noise was muffled beneath our desperate breaths.
He pulled back to gaze at my chest. “Ah, you look so pretty, even better than you described. Small but perfect.”
“Brick…” I murmured and caught his face in my palms. “We have to stop…”
“Yeah,” he said, looking at my breasts the way a poor man would look at a winning lottery ticket. “In just a min—”
He leaned forward and, quick as a flash, suckled my right nipple into his mouth.
I gasped. Oh God, it felt so good. Just like he’d promised, he was taking in my nipple and the small, swollen portion of flesh surrounding it. Suckling and teasing with his tongue as the soft bristles from his five-o’clock shadow scratched against my flesh.
My knees weakened; I didn’t know how I’d stay standing if he carried on for more than another few seconds.
He switched to the other breast. With my palms on his cheeks, I felt them hollow and dip as he kissed and sucked. His mouth was the hottest, sweetest, sexiest thing I’d ever known.
My knees started to sink. I was going down. I scrabbled my hands over his body and fisted his shirt to support myself.
The elevator door slid open.
Still he kept on. His tongue laved at my taut nipple, he massaged my other breast. His breaths were hard and fast, heating my skin further. He moaned and the noise swirled like a rumbling echo.
White light from the corridor spilled around us and I peered over his wide shoulder.
I gasped.
Standing stock still and staring, with his hand curled around the silver pole of a luggage cart, was a young bellboy.
“Brick, stop,” I hissed, pushing at his shoulders. “Stop.”
“Mmm.”
I grabbed for my top and yanked it down, forcing it past his nose and mouth. He had no choice but to stop suckling my breast.
“What?” Brick asked in a hoarse voice, looking distinctly put out at being interrupted.
“We’re here.” I pulled my top to my waist and grabbed my purse from the floor. “Look.”
He snapped his rumpled shirt and turned, paused for the briefest of seconds as he registered the slack-mouthed bellboy, then reached backward for my hand. He cleared his throat. “Evening,” he said, stepping forward and tugging me with him.
“Good evening, sir,” the bellboy replied, shifting the luggage rack so Brick and I could step past.
I braved another quick glance at the bellboy’s face. His eyes were wide but I wasn’t sure if it was because he idolized Brick or because he’d seen my breasts.
I didn’t have time to dwell on it because Brick stopped at the second door we came to and shoved in the key. The light turned green and he pushed it open.
“Get in,” he ordered in a low, firm voice.
I heard the elevator door ping shut. Untangling my fingers from his and crossing my arms over my chest, I stayed exactly where I was. This wasn’t going to be easy but it had to be done.
“What?” His brow creased. “Now what?”
“I need to get something straight,” I said, glancing left and right. The plush carpeted corridor was deserted. “I need you to agree to something before I step in there with you.”
He gave an impatient huff. “Quit pretending you don’t want me, Carly. I know damn well you do.” He glanced at my straining nipples. “You’re so damn hot for it you’re about to combust.”
I tipped my head to the side. “That might be, but if I go in your room we do this my way. You’re bigger and stronger than me but I want to run the show.”
The corners of his mouth tilted. “Dominance. I should have guessed by the shoes.”
I tried to make my face stern. “You keep your hands and your mouth and other parts of your anatomy to yourself.”
“Sounds dull.” He licked his lips and twitched his eyebrows.
I pouted. “I promise you it won’t be dull. Do exactly as I say and it will be the opposite end of the spectrum to dull.” I softened my tone. “It will be better than you’ve ever had it before.”
His eyes deepened to an even richer green. I’d certainly piqued his curiosity.
“What if I can’t control myself?” he asked, jamming his back against the open door and folding his arms over his chest. He crossed one foot over the other as if he intended this to be a long conversation. Although the straining bulge behind his fly didn’t bode well for a rational conversation. “What if we get in, the door shuts and I jump your bones my way. What if I can’t help myself?” he asked.
“I’ll scream as loud as I can,” I said. “Everyone will come running to see what you’re doing to me.”
“You’ll be screaming in ecstasy, honey, they’ll know the difference.” He uncrossed his ankles and I struggled to drag my gaze from that damn impressive bulge.
“I could just go to my room,” I said, taking a step toward the elevator and tightening my bag over my shoulder.
He was silent.
I took another step. My mouth dried, nausea clenched my guts.
“I could just go to my room alone…” I said, turning to the elevator door.
Say something, please say something. Invite me in.
A rising panic swelled in my chest. I held my breath and refused to reach out and press the call button for at least one more second.
; “Come in, Carly,” he said quietly.
I turned and saw a dirty grin playing with his lips.
“Come in and play your game,” he said, “but just remember, you play with fire, you’ll get burned.” He grinned. “In the sweetest possible way, of course.”
Beating down the triumphant smile trying to burst over my face, I asked, “And you’ll do as I say?”
“Yeah, I’ll do whatever you say, honey,” he drawled, sounding as if he was more likely to do the exact opposite of what I said.
“Good.” I tipped my chin and strode toward him, pressed my index finger into the center of his chest. “Make sure you do.”
He chuckled and stepped aside to let me pass.
The suite was bathed in a golden glow from standing lamps on either side of a plush burgundy couch. A flat-screen TV hung above a marble fireplace and the dense navy curtains were shut to block out the sirens and lights a scary eight floors below. I headed through a door to my left and studied the enormous bed. Its green and gold eiderdown comforter had been turned back and a single chocolate lay on the white pillowcase. I glanced at the headboard. Perfect.
At the base of the bed stood a long dressing table, which held a TV and coffee machine along with several copies of Hockey Today. On the floor, I spotted a duffel spilling jeans and sneakers and t-shirts.
The bedroom door clicked shut.
I felt his body heat radiate on to me. He’d come so close behind me. “So what do you want me to do?” he whispered into my ear.
His breath sent a delicious shiver down my neck and it took every ounce of willpower I possessed not to turn and hurl my body at him. Beg him to do with it whatever he pleased.
Instead, I tossed my purse to the base of the bed and turned. “Stand perfectly still,” I said, reaching for the top button of his shirt. “Stand perfectly still while I take off your clothes.”
He pulled in a breath and I saw his nostrils flare. “You gonna take yours off?” he asked, watching my fingers work down his buttons.
“I might.”
I beat down the tremor that was threatening my movements. Reminded myself that this had been a major fantasy for so long and I couldn’t ruin it with nerves. I tugged the shirt from his pants and undid the last button. As the soft material came free, I caught a whiff of not just his gorgeous spiced aftershave, but also the scent of aroused male. Heated and heavy, it swirled with his pheromones and had blood racing to my pelvis in anticipation. He was addictive. I was hooked.