“Not everything,” he said.
When he didn’t say anything more, she gave his profile another baleful look. “Really? You aren’t going to tell me who you are?”
“All in good time.”
“Huh. You want to be a man of mystery. I bet it’s because your name’s Wilbur or Felix.”
His mouth twitched at the corner. “Not even close, cher.”
God, he’d said it again. Did he slow down his words and deepen his voice with everyone? Or was it just with women he found attractive? She hoped it was the latter. Although, dressed as she was with an extra layer hugging her goodies, she hoped he wasn’t reacting to the padding. Her own curves were kind of meager.
They reached a discreet door marked “Staff Only.” He opened it and waved her inside.
The room had a small sofa, an arm chair, and a small round table with two chairs tucked beneath it. Darn, not a bed in sight.
She snorted at her thought. Where had that come from? She didn’t even know his name.
“Okay, Stacey. Get comfortable. We’ll be here a while. But first…” He held out his hand. “Your disguise.”
She froze for a second. Oh, he means the mask. She reached up and pulled on the bow that kept it snug against her face. When she handed it to him, he merely raised an eyebrow. So, she pulled off the wig and draped it over his forearm, hating that her natural hair was pulled tight against her scalp. Still, he didn’t move, like he was waiting for something else. “Seriously?”
“Uh-huh. Hand them over.”
Okay, so she knew he was playing fast and loose with his role as a babysitter, but she was game to go along with him. See how far he let it go. Narrowing her eyes, she slipped her right hand inside the low neckline of her dress and removed a falsie from her bra. Then she used her left hand to give him the one enhancing her right boob.
She placed both in his palm, knowing they were warm from her body heat, and that her perfume was wafting right beneath his nose.
With his gaze locked with hers, he tilted his head toward the sofa. “You can have a seat now,” he said, his voice huskier than before.
But she wasn’t done. He may have started this game, but she’d finish it. “Wait,” she said, “My balance will be off.” Without any further explanation, she raised her skirt, then reached beneath it to pull down her “Booty Beauty” panties and kicked them away.
Then, she walked to the sofa, her dress dragging on the ground now, and plopped onto the cushion.
Her nameless guard stared down at the padded panties, his mouth pursing. “All right, then.” His gaze swung toward her. “I’m Remy Cyr.”
She gave him a regal nod although her cheeks were on fire. I really just did that!
Remy settled into the armchair opposite her seat. “We’ll be here a while.”
“You know, you don’t have to stand guard over me now. I can hardly go back into the ballroom. My dress doesn’t fit anymore.”
“I have my orders.”
“You work for the mayor?”
He shook his head. “Private security.”
“Justin Ballard’s company?”
He arched an eyebrow. “You know it?”
“Met him one night at a dinner party my parents hosted.”
“I work…select engagements.”
“This is your side gig, then?”
He nodded.
Interesting. “You with the PD?”
Again, he nodded.
A man of few words, but she wasn’t deterred. “Where do you patrol?”
He arched a brow.
“Not a beat cop, then.”
“I’m a detective. But it seems like you are, too,” he drawled.
She sat forward, knowing her face was growing more animated. She liked interrogating, er, questioning her leads. “Which department?”
“Homicide.”
“Nice.” And good to know if she ever needed an “in” at the department. Not that she thought he’d be easy to squeeze, but she’d enjoy trying.
So, a detective with the PD. Working a side gig with Justin Ballard. The man was busy. Which begged an additional question. “Um, married?”
His gaze narrowed on her face.
She shrugged like his answer didn’t really matter. “Like you said, we could be stuck here a while.”
“No.”
“And you know I’m not, either. Since you did extensive research—”
“Not extensive.”
“Well, you know my grade point average.” She tilted her head and gave him a sly look. “Only men I sleep with have ever gotten me to admit I wasn’t the best student.”
His mouth stretched. “I doubt it was because you’re not smart.”
She wrinkled her nose. “Classes were boring. I skipped a few too many. Were you a good student?”
His gaze narrowed. “I paid for my education. I got my money’s worth.”
That stung a little—but only because it was true. “Yeah, Daddy paid my way. He wanted me to be a lawyer. He almost cut me off when he found out I was working on the university newspaper and as a stringer for the Times.”
“Almost?”
“My mother said I had to get some kind of degree, or she’d never be able to hold up her head.”
“So, you’re a disappointment to your parents…?”
“The black sheep,” she said, feeling cheerful. “My sister’s a doctor working at Emory in Atlanta. My brother is a state senator. I’m a lowly society page reporter.”
“All society page reporters crash bankers’ conferences?”
“Well, there are local movers and shakers, a few celebrities…”
“That you who got the crotch shot of that housewife?”
“That was my cameraman’s work. I could care less what she wasn’t wearing.” She arched a brow. “I’m surprised you saw that.”
“My cousin sent me a TMZ link and asked if I’d been there.”
“But you were busy watching me,” she said, then looked at him from under the fringe of her lashes. “Must have been disappointing knowing you missed that…”
His lips twisted. “I was doing my job.”
“And now, you’re still doing your job, but we have all this time on our hands…”
His head tilted, his gaze homing in her smile. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying we’re all alone. That’s all,” she said with a shrug and sat back, content now that he was frowning at her. She’d got him thinking about the possibilities. Not that she was looking for anything to happen, but why should she be the only one who was shifting a bit in her seat because the air seemed charged between them, and now, his scent was accumulating in the room, and she was sure she’d never smelled anything quite so yummy.
He pushed up from his chair and walked toward a built-in cupboard with a small fridge. He pulled it open and removed a couple of water bottles.
He took his time before he turned back to her, and she could only smile, because she was pretty sure he’d needed the time to get something back under control.
She knew how he felt, because being alone with him, watching his mouth as he talked, his gaze as it drilled into her, had kept her feeling…excited and…hot.
When he walked back toward her, his expression was closed. He handed her a chilled bottle and sat. This time, his gaze traveled around the room.
Huh. He’d started this by hauling her in here and looking so sexy. Now, he was going to go stone-faced?
No way was he going to pretend he wasn’t attracted to her.
She unscrewed the cap, raised the bottle, then let some of the liquid escape her mouth to run down her chin and neck. She jerked the bottle back, gasped, and set it aside. Then she slid her hand inside her bodice to wipe at the water. While she was at it, she cupped her boob, making sure to squeeze the tip of her nipple as she pulled her hand free. Glancing down at her glistening chest, she wrinkled her nose before raising her face to glance his way. “I spilled some. It shocked me
it was so cold.”
His glance darted downward to the erect tip pushing against the delicate lace. “You should be more careful.”
“It’s just water. But I do need a napkin…” she said, leaning forward and letting her loose bodice gape, “something to wipe away the moisture.”
He didn’t push up to return to the cabinet. Instead, he reached into an interior pocket in his tuxedo jacket and pulled out a white handkerchief. When he held it out, she didn’t reach for it; instead, she pulled back her hair and thrust out her chest.
Again, his gaze dropped. “What are you doing?” he said under his breath.
“What? Me?”
“No, me,” he said, shaking his head, but he extended his arm and wiped at the moisture in the vee of her neckline.
“It’s…under…um, deeper,” she whispered, locking her gaze with his.
His loud swallow was gratifying. Then he knelt in front of her and inserted his hand slowly beneath the fabric. The handkerchief wiped at her skin, grazing her nipple.
She hissed softly and bit her lip. That slight graze made her breast tighten.
“You always this—”
“Forward?” she blurted, then drew a slow breath, hoping to get her heartbeat to slow down as well as her mouth. She felt ready to explode. “No, but I’ve been watching you, watching me.”
He gave a masculine grunt. A sound that made her pussy clench. “This some kind of trap?” he growled.
Their faces were only inches apart. If she leaned toward him, would he pull away? “Think I’m trying to get you fired?”
“No, I’m wonderin’ if you planned this…”
She angled her head, bringing her face closer to his. “And if I did…?”
“I can think of easier ways to get my attention, cher. All you have to do is breathe.”
Her lips parted.
His hand pulled free of her bodice, and he stuffed the handkerchief back into his pocket. His gaze remained on her face as he moved back into his seat and curved his hands around the ends of the upholstered arms.
She glanced away, breathing hard. Damn, she’d been close to launching herself at him. And that wasn’t her. At least, it hadn’t been her.
Because she didn’t want to think, just wanted to do, she shut off her thoughts and looked at him again.
His expression was closed, but his eyes smoldered. Yeah, no way was he as calm and removed as he wanted her to believe.
And she was curious how he’d react if she turned things up a notch. Before she could talk herself out of it, she slipped her arms out of her bodice and let it fall to her waist, then unhooked the front hooks of her bra. The saggy cups parted. Now, bare-chested, she lifted her chin.
Remy blinked, and his fingers dug into the upholstery as his jaw tightened enough a muscle jumped along the sharp edge.
She felt heat climb her chest and deepen in her cheeks. She really wished she’d thought this through.
He cleared his throat. “Cher, you air-dryin’?”
Chapter 5
Somehow, Remy knew she’d never been this bold. Not with the deep rose color flooding her face and chest. Likely, this was just her way of getting in the last word.
Still, he couldn’t let her sit there, getting more embarrassed by the minute. He had to give her a reaction. It was the gentlemanly thing to do.
He let his gaze drop and fasten on her breasts. They were small and firm, with areolas the size of quarters and a gentle pink like the inside of a conch shell. Both tips were fully erect and seemed to quiver as she drew shortened breaths.
“Why’d you stop?” he growled. Not what he’d intended to say, and certainly not something that would help alleviate the heat gathering in his groin.
“You’re right,” she said, sounding breathless. “I might be hiding something.”
When she stood, he held his breath. Would she really…?
She did. Reaching behind her, she unzipped the gown and let it slide down her silky hips and thighs. Now, except for her high heels, she was completely nude.
Completely. Her feminine mound was bare of any hair. He couldn’t help staring for a long, charged moment before raising his gaze again.
She stepped outside the puddled dress then slowly turned, offering him a glimpse of her backside. Jesus…fuck. Remy adjusted his cock because, while it had been semi-hard since before they’d entered the room, it was now rapidly filling the rest of the way.
“Don’t you want to…?” she said, her voice a little hoarse-sounding.
Yes. Anything. Everything. Her gentle, slender curves and soft-looking skin made his hands itch to reach out and cup every swell. “Want to what?” he stalled, noting his voice was hoarse now, too.
“Frisk me?” she said, glancing over her shoulder.
He cleared the lump that had settled in the back of his throat. Stalling again, he said, “Take down your hair. You might have smuggled something in it.”
Keeping her back to him, she pulled out bobby pins and dropped them to the floor. Then she tugged out the black band holding her hair in a tight bun. Finally, she bent forward and shook her head—which also shook her ass.
Dear Jesus, she’d just given him a glimpse of heaven.
When she straightened and glanced over her shoulder again, her hair was in loose waves all around her shoulders. And there was a look of challenge in her green eyes. It was the first time he’d seen her eyes under a proper light, and he was sure he’d never seen a prettier, leaf green.
He shook his head, knowing he wasn’t going to do the right thing here—he was too aroused to even consider telling her to dress. He pushed up from his chair. “Move toward the wall,” he said, lifting his chin toward the paneling.
The deep undulation of her ass as it wagged back and forth had his cock jerking against his pants leg.
Without having to be instructed, she raised her arms and braced her hands against the wall.
Striding closer, Remy tried to still the inner voice that told him this wasn’t the time, however eager his dick was. When he stood behind her, he lightly gripped her waist.
She gave a little gasp then giggled.
He smiled. “My hands cold?”
“No. Not in the least. I just…wasn’t sure…”
He leaned closer. “That I’d play…?”
She nodded, and her hair brushed his face.
The scent of oranges and lavender filled his nostrils. “Spread ’em.”
Again, she giggled. “My cheeks?”
He snorted. “Your feet, Stacey.”
When she did so, he knelt and trailed his hands from her feet, up one leg then the other, until his fingers were an inch from her pussy.
“Can’t stop, now,” she said, her voice shaky. “Might have contraband hidden up there.”
But he moved his hands to her ass, plumping the globes in his hands then rotating them apart, which made her shiver. Then he stood and smoothed his palms up her back, his thumbs trailing along the center of her spine. When he cupped her shoulders, he pulled gently, bringing her back against his chest.
She betrayed her impatience when she reached for his wrists and moved his hands to cup her breasts. Then she leaned deeper against him and sighed.
Massaging them, he gave into the temptation to nuzzle the side of her neck. He drew in more of her citrusy scent and rubbed his lips against her skin.
“I like a cuddle as much as any girl, but…”
He tweaked a nipple, and she jumped.
“Yes,” she gasped. “More.”
Holding her there, he played with one nipple and glided his other hand over her belly and below to cup her smooth mound. “I appreciate the effort here,” he whispered.
She widened her stance and flexed her hips, driving her pussy against his fingers. “I’m considerate like that,” she said, her voice sounding strained.
Again, he thought it wise to pause what was happening between them. Abruptly, he let her go and moved back. She turned slowly to fac
e him then glanced up from beneath her thick eyelashes.
He lifted his chin. “You’re free to go.”
She frowned. “What?”
“I won’t keep you here. If you want to go…”
“Ah.” She nodded and slipped around him. But instead of heading for the sofa and the clothes littering the floor there, she walked to the table, pulled out a chair, and then lay back on the wooden tabletop in front of the chair. She drew up her knees and placed her heels at the table’s edge. Then slowly, she parted her thighs, opening herself, letting him see everything. “I don’t want to go. I want to come,” she said, smiling.
With his hands on his hips, he chuckled and hung his head. “I’m gonna get fired.”
“Think so?” she said, arching an eyebrow. “Justin said sit on me. I’m sure he doesn’t care how you keep me inside this room.”
She was probably right.
“Now, come over here,” she said, curving a finger to beckon him. “I’m a little overexposed and feeling vulnerable,” she said in a tiny, whispery voice that told him she was anything but.
He pulled his tie free, unbuttoned his jacket and shrugged it off, taking time to fold it over the arm of the sofa. Then he slowly unbuttoned and rolled up his cuffs.
When he finally moved toward the table, he saw that her thighs were quivering. He cupped the tops of each and smoothed his hands up and down. “Cold?” he asked, keeping his voice even.
She shook her head.
“Afraid?”
Again, she shook her head.
He took a seat between her legs and glanced up her body.
She placed an arm beneath her head to raise it and stared back at him.
Leaning toward her, he opened her with his thumb and index finger then blew a stream of air over her very wet, pink flesh. Her pussy clenched.
“Honestly,” she said with a huff. “Could you move any faster?”
Remy shook his head. In fact, he decided to change course. Which wasn’t something his southern brain approved, but he knew they were moving too fast. He stood and bent over her.
“What are you doing?”
He noted the way she bit her lower lip. A sure sign of the vulnerability she was trying to hide. He placed a hand alongside her cheek. “I don’t screw girls I’ve never kissed.”
One Hot Night: A New Orleans Nights Story Page 4