Rook Security Complete Series

by Camilla Blake

  “Oh.” She furrowed her brow. “Then, I’m confused again. Why do you care so much if I have a boyfriend if you don’t want to hook up?”

  “Jesus Christ.” He dragged a hand over his face and looked at her as if she utterly exhausted him. “Savannah, come here.”

  He pointed to the strip of bed right beside him.

  She eyed him suspiciously, her arms crossed over her chest. “Why?”

  “Good lord, woman! You’re infuriating! Come over here!”

  There he was, the Moreau Davy of yesteryear. The man before the accident. The arrogant, overbearing, bossy, entitled, Richie Rich who thought he could tell her what to do. She felt the same roiling irritation rise up in her, the same feeling she’d always felt around Davy before the accident. Only, this time, when that feeling rose up, it mixed with the strange, syrupy warmth that had already been percolating deep inside her. A roaring heat swirled down into her liquid center and Geo realized—with complete shock—that what she’d always felt for Moreau Davy wasn’t argumentative annoyance after all. No. It was full-on, no holds barred, leap-before-you-look lust.

  He was glaring at her with those black diamond eyes, breathing hard and bossy, and her panties had gone completely wet.

  Geo realized that he’d issued her an order and—goddammit—she wanted to follow the order.

  Suddenly, the years she’d spent arguing with Moreau made sense to her in a new, earth-tilting light. All this time when she’d been distant and irritated and combative with him, she hadn’t been arguing with him, she’d been arguing with herself.

  Had she wanted him from the beginning? She had absolutely no idea. But signs were pointing to yes.

  “Savannah,” he said in that low, commanding voice of his.

  Her breath caught, her nipples pressed hard against her sports bra. She held out, for just a few more seconds, for her own peace of mind. And then she crawled forward.

  The second her palms hit the bed, Moreau’s eyes flared, the tempo of his breathing increased. She would have sworn she could see his heartbeat in the pulse point at his throat.

  He was still as a photograph as she crawled across the bed toward him, only his eyes moved as they followed her movement as if he were burning the image of her into his brain.

  She came to sit next to him, her butt on her heels and her knees a half an inch away from the side of his leg. Their faces weren’t more than a foot apart.

  She wasn’t sure she’d ever actually seen his face from this close before. It was a very familiar face, obviously, she’d known him for years and he was a worldwide star. He’d starred in dozens of movies. Every single pore in his skin had been zoomed in on for the entire world to see. But even with all of that being true, staring at him, in person, this close, his face somehow seemed new to her as well.

  The look on his face was unfamiliar and private. It was a look that was not supposed to be observed by anyone but her. It was the expression he got on his face when he looked at her and her alone. The thought sent more fire into the liquid between her legs. She started to ache, just being this close to him.

  “Savannah,” he said in that low voice of his. “You and I, we talk without saying anything. But no more confusion, okay?”

  “Okay,” she whispered.

  He turned so that he faced her, one leg bent up and his bad leg still stretched out. His hands were on his knees in a way that was anything but casual. She knew, she knew, that he was doing everything he could to keep himself from reaching for her.

  “I want to know if you have a man because I do not break up relationships. No matter how much I might want to.” His eyes bounced back and forth between hers. “Relationships are sacred. And if you have a man, I will not say anything more. I will not text you at night. I will not,”—he slightly smiled—”eat your cookie.”

  “The man who texts me all the time is my father. There’s no man. There hasn’t been for a long time.”

  “You are single.”

  “Yes.”

  He knocked his head back onto the headboard behind him and closed his eyes. He let out a long breath. Geo watched his chest rise and fall. Her eyes flicked again to his golden shoulders, to the dark hair under his arm.

  When she looked back up, his eyes were open and he was staring at her again.

  “What about the princess?” she asked, one eyebrow rising up.

  He gave her a small, delighted smile. “Have you been reading tabloid articles about me?”

  She rolled her eyes. “It’s kind of impossible to escape them. You’re everywhere, Davy.”

  He smirked, but Geo got the idea that he was smirking at himself, at his own fame, more than he was smirking at her. “There is no princess.”

  “Pretty sure she’s real.”

  “No. Yes.” He shook his head. “Riga is very real, and she’s been a very close friend of mine for many years. She is just a friend. And has always been just a friend.”

  He seemed charmed to think that Geo would care about that.

  Geo’s mind was lost in Davy’s maze again. She was too close to tell exactly where she was. Everything was moving too fast and too slow and she was so turned on she felt a little dizzy. “So… if you don’t want to smash, then what exactly is it that you want?”

  He leaned in, very slowly. His eyes made a pattern against her face. He looked in her left eye, her right eye and down to her lips. Left eye, right eye, lips. Over and over again as he moved into her space. He was asking, pressing, moving, wanting all at once. Geo gasped for breath as he was suddenly an inch away from her.

  She inhaled hard and was filled to the brim with the scent of him. She’d expected some expensive cologne, but his scent was earthier than she would have thought. Cloves maybe. It made her mouth water.

  “I want to explore you, Savannah,” he said in a voice so low it seemed to lap over her like bathwater. “I want to taste you inch by inch. I want to feel every soft place and make you tighten with pleasure. I want to open you. Over and over again.”

  Her eyes were on his lips now as well, as if she were trying to see each word as it left his mouth. No one had ever spoken to her this way before. It was wrecking her. She was a mess for him. Wet and aching and wanting.

  “Yes,” she whispered.

  He had a deeply serious look on his face as he closed the distance between them. His eyes stayed on hers as his lips kissed just her bottom lip. He applied the barest amount of suction, just enough to lightly fuse them to one another. She couldn’t even taste him yet and it was the best kiss of her life.

  He made a gruff noise of approval as her hands came to his shoulders. She gasped as she felt the hard clasp of his fingers in her hair. His touch was firm and sure, soothing and arousing her at once.

  He tipped her head back just so, exposing the long line of her neck to him and his mouth left hers. He nuzzled at the bottom of her jaw, kissing his way down her neck to her collarbone. Then he was back at her mouth, his eyes on hers again, releasing her hair and banding an arm around her middle.

  “Savannah,” he said against her mouth in that gruff voice.

  When their lips met this time, both their mouths were open already. Their tongues mashed together in glorious, soft possession.

  Geo suddenly had the feeling that her whole life, she’d been listening to careless men slam their hands on a keyboard and calling it music. But now, she was in the arms of a true musician, a man who took care and time and skill extremely seriously. A man who could make her truly understand the art of the moment.

  They were still sitting, but she was sagging forward, her hands on his chest, their mouths jammed gorgeously together. He licked against her in long, lazy strokes that belied the intensity in his eyes.

  She removed her hands from him long enough to slide them underneath his undershirt. She went straight for his pecs and groaned when she encountered smooth muscle, chest hair, heat and strength and—gah. She bit at his bottom lip and sucked until he grunted, wrapping his fingers in
her hair again.

  He tipped her head back and melted her with his kiss. He was giving her that ever-elusive perfect amount of tongue. Not too much, not too little. He seemed to be on a loop of frustration and passion. She felt him force himself to calm, only to stroke against her tongue, pant, press forward and demand more from the kiss. Then he’d yank himself back and slow his caresses. Over and over again this went until she was sure she’d soaked through her yoga pants.

  She’d never wanted to have sex more in her entire life.

  Her mouth slanted across his, her eyes jammed closed, she reared up on her knees and carefully swung her leg over his lap.

  He groaned, his hands automatically sliding to her hips that she held up over him. She glanced back at his bad leg, trying to figure out if she’d hurt him by sitting on him, but he answered that question by dragging her down on to his lap.

  Geo tossed her head back and gasped. He leaned forward to kiss her again, but she pulled away, wanting instead to have the full, unhindered view of him.

  Her eyes went first to the hardness that was spearing up between her legs. He was ridiculously hard for her. His shorts were tented and molded to the shape of his manhood. Geo swallowed hard as she stared. He… would be a lot to take. She was definitely, definitely up for the challenge.

  Her eyes traced the rest of the way up his body. She’d rucked his shirt up so that his entire stomach was bared for her viewing pleasure, his blunt ab muscles and the line of black hair leading below his shorts. The muscles in his shoulders seemed to tick as he stroked over her hips, to her back, up and down her waist. But it was his face that truly destroyed her.

  She’d never had a man look at her like this. Like she had utterly bewitched him. Like he would crawl across the desert naked for her. Like he wanted to peel her open, petal by petal.

  When their mouths met this time, their heads twisted with the passion of it. Their noses pressed and slid against one another as he changed angles over and over again. Like he couldn’t get deep enough or close enough.

  Moreau bent her backwards, toward his knees, and she fought him back toward the headboard. Her breasts were smashed against his chest as she started to grind her hips against his erection.

  His mouth exploded away from hers as he clutched at her hips, stilling her. He said something in French and she could bet that it wasn’t very polite.

  “Kitty,” he said as she circled her hips against him despite his tight grip on her.

  “Cookie,” she replied in the same tone and had him smiling and leaning forward. His mouth found her neck again and she gasped as he caught her with his teeth, sampling her.

  Geo couldn’t stand it. She’d never burned this way in her life and she wasn’t sure she could take much more. This desire for him was walking the line between ecstasy and torture. She reared back from his mouth and grabbed the bottom of her tank top, intent on tearing it off herself and getting this show on the road. But he grabbed her wrists, stilling her.

  “Not tonight, my love. Not tonight. Just let me love your mouth. Let me—”

  “Yes, tonight.” She shook his hands off and attempted again to tug her shirt off over her head. Again, his fingers clamped around her wrists and he stopped her.

  “Savannah,” he warned. “I am in a splint, there are men in every room in this hallway. I cannot properly make love to you tonight. Besides, it is too soon in our relationship. I am a patient man. Let me make love to you slowly. Over the course of many weeks. By this time, we will have everything worked out with Rook.”

  He was kissing on her neck as he made this speech. The words making erotic patterns against her skin. So erotic that she almost missed their meaning. It took several seconds of blinking before Geo finally understood what he was saying.

  “Wait.” She sat back and the movement pressed her weight into him. His hardness speared against her and made them both gasp. It was almost enough to derail her. Almost. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

  He laughed, dragging a hand down his face. “What don’t you understand?”

  “You want to go slow?” She made quotes with her fingers. “‘Make love’ over many weeks?”

  His eyes bounced between hers as he nodded.

  “You want to tell Rook?”

  He nodded again, an unhappy expression starting to cross his features.

  “Davy, you… you’re not describing a hook up. You’re describing a relationship.”

  She expected him to roll his eyes and laugh at her. She expected him to recoil in revulsion at the idea of commitment. She expected him to sidestep the R-word deftly and inarguably. But he did none of those things. He merely brought his hands to her hips, slipped his thumbs under her tank top and started drawing circles on her hipbones.

  “Would that be such a bad thing?”

  She clapped her mouth closed, completely bemused. This whole thing had just taken an abrupt left turn into bizarro world. “You,” she pointed at him. “Want to be in a relationship with me.” She pointed at herself.

  He eyed her as if she was setting him up to walk into a trap of some kind. “Yes,” he answered slowly.

  “I—” She was fresh out of words. “Why?!” she asked incredulously.

  She knew she was hot and she knew she was an overall cool person. She wasn’t trying to be down on herself here. But Moreau Davy was one of the richest and most famous people on Earth. She was one hundred percent certain that he did not need to be in a relationship to get whatever kind of sex he could possibly want. So why the hell would he be proposing a commitment to her before they’d even done the dirty? It simply did not compute with anything else she’d ever learned about men.

  He laughed but couldn’t help but look at her as if she’d lost her marbles a little bit. “Because, Savannah,” he said very slowly. “I have an embarrassingly potent crush on you.”

  She blinked at him. Her stomach swooped, like a bird on the open sea, at those words. But they still didn’t clear up her confusion. “Right. So, let’s fuck and get it out of our systems, all right?”

  He frowned. “This is what you want?”

  “Sure.” She shrugged. “Isn’t that what everyone wants? No-strings sex?” She searched his eyes before continuing, “Oh. I see, you’re trying to lock it in as, like, a regular thing?”

  Something flickered in his eyes and she wasn’t sure what it was. He looked away for a long minute and then, to her ultimate surprise, he picked her up by the hips and set her gently aside. He was still ridiculously hard for her but he turned away slightly, dragging a hand over his face.

  “Davy,” she started, reaching for him.

  “Moreau,” he told her, his face snapping around, his eyes sparking. “No more Davy. Atlas and Cedric and all them call me Davy. You will call me Moreau.”

  She tossed her hands up into the air in exasperation. “What is it with you and first names?”

  “Because you call someone by their first name when you want them, Savannah. When you are soft for them. When you—”

  He cut off himself off and just stared in her eyes.

  “Is it the fame?” he asked quietly. “This is why you won’t even consider it? Me? Because the fame is so abhorrent to you?”

  For what felt like the hundredth time that night, she clapped her mouth closed, completely at a loss for words. She felt like they were playing the same game, but they’d been given two different sets of rules.

  “Moreau,” she conceded his point about the first names and she could tell it went a long way toward soothing him. “I’m not, I don’t know…like other women? I don’t need some sort of symbolic commitment or anything. I’m cool to just hook up. I mean, assuming it’s good, which if that make-out was any indication, it would be. Then, yeah, we can make it a regular thing. We don’t have to commit to each other or anything. I mean, it’ll get a little tricky to sneak around, but there’s no need to tell Rook. At this point, hooking up with the clients is kind of a Rook Securities tradition, you know? As
long as we keep it quiet, we don’t have anything to worry about.”

  She’d never forget the look of true pain that crossed his face. She felt bewildered and a little angry. She had no idea what it was she was saying that was hurting him so badly! She was handing him her body on a silver platter and he was acting like it was an insult of the highest degree.

  He slid off the far side of the bed and using the footboard as support, hopped around to the desk chair, where he sat down, leaned forward and covered his face in his hands for a moment.

  “Moreau,” she tried again. “I’m not trying to make you angry.”

  “I’m not angry,” he said quietly. “I’m simply sad.”

  “About what?”

  He sighed and leaned back in the chair. He was only a few feet away but the distance felt insurmountable. Without his heat against her, she felt like soup gone cold.

  “You know how you said that our conversation last night made you realize just how lonely my life has been?” he asked her.

  She nodded slowly.

  “Well,” he continued. “This conversation right now is showing me just how badly you’ve been treated by men in the past and it makes me very sad.”

  She bristled. “What? Just because I’m down for something casual does not mean that I’m damaged goods.”

  “I did not say you were damaged. But, Savannah, you offer me your body and ask for nothing in return? This is… unacceptable. You should demand I give you everything in exchange. You should demand my life from me in exchange.”

  She recoiled from the intensity of his words. “Moreau—”

  “You are not an object to fuck, Savannah. You are a woman to worship. To love. To protect and honor and—”

  “Stop!” she cried quietly, tossing her hands up, palms out. “Jesus, Davy, put a lid on it already.”

  “Americans,” he mumbled into the palm of his hand as he dragged it over his face. “Casual is an insult to you and it is an insult to me.”