She wasn’t above shamelessly rubbing against him. She craved the kind of release she knew only he could give her.
He gripped her hands in one of his, fastening her arms above her head as he looked into her eyes. “I was going out of my mind tonight, thinking of you with someone else.”
“He was just a friend,” she whispered, feeling oxygen deprived. “A former client, retired. He has a wife and a couple kids.” She was surprised she could even think straight with Blaise’s breath fanning her ear while his tongue traced the shell, making her squirm. “His brother just got signed by the Red Sox. He’s looking for a new agent, so my friend asked me to go to Boston to meet with him.”
Blaise growled while grinding into her. “Boston? Isn’t that where your ex lives?”
“It’s also where my parents live.” Warmth spread over her body. No way should she be thinking about her family while a hot guy had her pressed against the wall. “You could come home with me to meet them.”
His eyes widened in surprise, and she almost wanted to rescind the invitation. He clearly thought it was too soon, and he was probably right. Eli had been the last guy to meet her parents, and she’d vowed that the next man she introduced them to would be the one she intended to marry.
“Yes.” He showed his gratitude with a scorching kiss that would have had her clawing at his back and shoulders had she not been shackled. “I need you, Ki.” He released her hands so he could finish undressing, kicking his jeans and boots aside in record time. “Right here. Right now.” He slipped a finger inside her, lust darkening his gaze. “God, you’re so ready for me.”
She wanted to whimper, maybe even plead with him to finish what he started, but she held her tongue, intent on letting him take the lead.
“You want this, don’t you? You want me.” He anchored his hands around her waist as he eased down to his knees. “Tell me. I need to hear you say it.”
Her eyes drifted closed at the first touch of his tongue on her throbbing core. “I need you.” That wasn’t exactly what he’d asked her to say, but it was painfully true. She didn’t think she’d survive without the pleasure he promised.
His tongue was a hot, swirling catalyst, prompting her to release her inhibitions and give him the response he seemed fixated on drawing from her.
“Yesssss,” she hissed, flattening her hands on the wall. “More. I need more.”
She had no doubt he knew exactly what she needed. He was driving her body with the same skill he used to navigate his powerful automobile, pressing his foot to the gas and propelling her to the cusp of lucidity. She rode the wave, enjoying the slow build without reaching the pinnacle too soon. She wanted this feeling to last, to relish the exquisiteness of this gorgeous man fixating solely on her gratification while delaying his own.
His engorged shaft told her he was ready—he probably had been since he walked through the door—but still he put her needs first. That made her heart swell at the same time she felt him stepping up his game. She was on the verge of collapse, her legs trembling and her entire body shaking with the effort it took to remain upright while he lapped at her with single-minded purpose.
“Blaise…” She doubled over, grasping at him. She was already drenched and pulsating, but she greedily wanted more. “Now.”
He caressed her breast while his hardness filled her, stretching her to the point where she was aching, yet eager for more titillation. The low noise he made in his throat sent a hot rush between her legs, and she was hungry to watch him lose control.
“Harder.” Her voice was fiery, excited, as she panted. “Faster.”
That seemed to awaken the beast in him. Yum. He gripped her hips and hoisted her up as she locked her ankles at the base of his spine. His biceps were bulging, making her marvel at his strength. He made it seem effortless, supporting her weight while thrusting into her with a serious purpose, which she suspected might be to ruin her for all other men.
Her cries echoed out before the merciless thrashing of their bodies knocked the breath from her lungs. He was crazed, but so was she. She looked into his eyes and saw a kindred spirit. A man with so much love to give who’d been wasting his life with no one to give it to.
“Give it to me,” she whispered, certain he could read her mind in that moment. “Show me how you feel about me. Don’t hold back.”
He responded as though she’d thrown down the gauntlet. His breathing was jagged, his movements quick but measured. He appraised her, almost as though he was trying to decide if she really could handle all of him. Apparently he decided she could, because his thrusts deepened while he managed to pick up the pace beyond what she would have thought possible. Their mouths collided, his teeth scraping hers while his tongue thrust inside her mouth, branding her with the heat of his claim.
When she was about to cry for mercy, her body exploded in a rush of liquid heat. She clung to him as bursts of light shattered behind her closed eyes. Before she had a chance to breathe, he was setting her on fire. Wave after wave of warmth spread through her, coupled with his labored rumbles in her ear. Their hearts pounded as their breaths came in short gasps.
Blaise chuckled, leaning his damp forehead against her shoulder. “Think you can move?”
“No.” She laughed at how delicious it was to be rendered immobile that way.
“If you expect me to carry you, you’ll have to wait a minute. I’m not so sure I can move myself right now.”
“Hmmm.” She kissed his neck before trailing her mouth down his shoulder. “No rush. I could stay here, just like this, forever.”
***
Kiara was sitting at her desk the next day, trying to plan her trip to Boston that weekend, when Morin poked his head in the half-open door.
“Your assistant wasn’t at her desk. You got a minute?”
She didn’t want to deal with him, but she didn’t have a choice. He was still her client. Perhaps she could persuade him to work with someone else, since their obvious conflict of interest would make it difficult for her to be objective where he was concerned. “Sure, come on in.” She gestured to the chair across from her. “Have a seat. I’ve been meaning to call you. I think—”
“Did he tell you about Marla?”
She bit her lip as he folded his large form into the small guest chair. She didn’t like discussing her personal life with clients, but their situation obviously required some explanation. “Yes, he did.”
“I’m willing to bet he didn’t tell you the whole story. He’s a master manipulator. He probably told you just enough to get you off his back, but I guarantee you don’t know all there is to know about him.”
“I know all I need to know,” she said, refusing to allow Morin to shake her faith in her man. “I’m not perfect, and I don’t expect Blaise to be either. If you want to blame someone, maybe you should look to your wife. She was the one who swore to be faithful to you.” She regretted the words as soon as they were out of her mouth. Given what Blaise had told her about Morin’s marriage, his wife had already paid for her indiscretions in the worst possible way. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. This is none of my business.”
“It is if you’re still with that loser.” His eyes were hard, boring into her. “You think he can be faithful to you? He doesn’t know the meaning of the word. Ask him how many women he’s had.”
Kiara refused to give in to the dread blooming in her belly. Blaise was a good man. Sure, he may have had a colorful past, but as Dalton said, that didn’t make him a bad guy. “I don’t care about any of that.”
“You should. You’ll be next, you know.” Morin’s expression was cold, bordering on lifeless. “He’ll tell you he loves you, make you fall in love with him, then he’ll destroy you.”
It was difficult for Kiara to breathe, knowing Morin probably had first-hand knowledge of Blaise’s relationship with Marla. Kiara couldn’t help but wonder whether Blaise had said the same things to Marla that he had to her. But Morin intended to make her que
stion Blaise and their relationship, so she squared her shoulders and looked him in the eye. “I know what you’re doing, and it won’t work. What Blaise had with Marla doesn’t compare to what he has with me.” At least I hope that’s true. “You’re not going to shake my faith in him. You’ve done your worst, and we’re still together.”
“You think I want to break you up?” He cracked a smile. “Sweetheart, I don’t have to do anything to drive you two apart. Blaise is gonna do that all by himself. He’s gonna cheat on you or find some other way to break your heart.”
Kiara was sensitive to that particular threat because she’d lived through it. But Blaise wasn’t her ex. He wouldn’t do that to her. Would he? No! “I trust Blaise. You are another story.” She leaned back, feigning calm and control. “It’s obvious we can’t work together. I’d be happy to recommend another agent—”
“Oh no,” Morin said, pushing to his feet. “We are going to work together. We have a contract, and I intend to make sure you uphold it.” His lips curled into a nasty smile. “Whether you like it or not.”
Chapter Ten
Blaise was trying to tamp down his nerves as the airport limo took them to Kiara’s parents’ home for dinner. It was their first of three nights in Boston, and he was anxious about being on her home turf. He’d be meeting her friends and family, the people who knew her best, who loved her and wanted to protect her. Would they take one look at him and decide she could do better? Would they warn her that he was a fraud who would end up breaking her heart?
“Hey,” Kiara said, squeezing his hand. “Why’re you so quiet?”
“I guess I’m kind of nervous,” he admitted, clearing his throat. “Meeting your family and friends is a pretty big deal.”
She frowned. “Are you nervous about meeting my friends from school tomorrow night? Just because they went to Harvard doesn’t mean they’re snobs, babe. They’re not. They’re a lot of fun, and they’re going to love you.” She curled her hand around his bicep and squeezed. “Trust me.”
He wanted to believe her, but a nagging voice in his head told him he was fooling himself if he thought he could convince those people that he was the right man for Kiara. “If you say so.”
They pulled up to a classic brick townhouse in an upscale area. Blaise was certain the façade was deceiving. It was likely more than five thousand square feet and worth several million dollars. “This is where you grew up?”
“Yes,” she said, smiling as she squeezed his hand. “It’s a little too big for Mom and Dad now that they’re on their own, but they can’t bear to part with it. Too many good memories.”
He didn’t have many good memories of his childhood, and certainly none attached to a warm and lovely home. They’d moved a lot, living mostly in dingy apartments and low-income housing, depending on whether his old man was working.
The driver rounded the rear of the car and opened their door before retrieving their luggage from the trunk.
Blaise peeled a hundred-dollar bill from the roll in his pocket and discreetly slipped it into the driver’s hand. “Thank you.” He could tell the driver was surprised by the exorbitant tip. Guys who looked like him usually tried to cut out on the fare rather than tip well.
“Thank you, sir,” he said, tipping his hat. “Enjoy your stay in Boston.”
Blaise muttered, “I’m sure we will,” before dragging both his suitcase and Kiara’s up the stone walk.
Kiara didn’t bother to knock before turning the doorknob and calling, “We’re here!”
A sophisticated man wearing gray slacks and a pale blue cashmere sweater rounded the corner, his blue eyes lighting up when he saw Kiara. He opened his arms wide. “There she is. Come and give your old dad a hug.”
Blaise noted the similarities between them. Dr. Wagner still had dark hair peppering the silver and he was much taller than Kiara, but the family resemblance was obvious. When the older man turned his attention on him, Blaise cleared his throat and extended his hand, wishing he could have wiped his palms on his black jeans without being too obvious. “Hello, sir, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“And you,” Dr. Wagner said, sizing him up. “Welcome.” He gestured to the grand foyer, with its high ceilings, ornate moldings, and crystal chandelier.
“Thank you.” Blaise reminded himself that while his home wasn’t as ostentatious, it was as large and expensive. He had no reason to feel intimidated. But something about the formality of the old house punctuated the point that Blaise and the Wagners were from two very different worlds.
“Oh, I thought I heard you come in,” a woman with a tapered silver bob said, rounding the corner. “I’m sorry, I would have been here to greet you, but I was out back.”
“No worries, Mom,” Kiara said, opening her arms. “We just got here.”
The two women hugged, and Blaise noted Mrs. Wagner’s crisp black dress pants and turtleneck, accompanied by a black-and-white silk Louis Vuitton scarf. She looked chic and cultured, everything his mother was not. It wasn’t fair to judge, but he couldn’t keep the comparisons from creeping into his mind.
“Mom, this is Blaise Thomas. Blaise, my mother, Kathleen Wagner.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, ma’am.”
Her smile seemed tight, almost forced. “You as well, Blaise.”
“I wished you’d agreed to stay here,” Dr. Wagner said, hugging Kiara to his side. “You know we have plenty of room.”
Kiara reached for Blaise’s hand. “I know, but we thought it would be a little easier if we stayed at the Ritz, since that’s where I’m meeting my client.” She laughed. “I shouldn’t get ahead of myself. I haven’t signed him yet.”
“Ah, but you will. I have no doubt about that,” Dr. Wagner said, winking at his daughter.
“Um, I almost forgot, I have something for you.” Blaise unzipped the front pouch of his suitcase and handed her father a bottle of Chateau Montelena. He’d been trying to impress, and judging by the other man’s expression, he had.
“Thank you, Blaise. One of my favorites.”
“My pleasure.” He handed Mrs. Wagner a small gold gift bag. “Kiara mentioned you’re a collector. I’m told this is a new piece, so I’m hoping you don’t have it already.”
Mrs. Wagner withdrew the box containing the Swarovski crystal picture frame. “I don’t. It’s lovely, thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” He could tell Kiara’s parents were making a supreme effort to be polite to him, but his instincts told him they weren’t thrilled with her company.
“Why don’t we go into the dining room,” Kathleen said. “Janet is ready to serve appetizers.”
“Janet is our housekeeper,” Kiara explained, slipping her arm through Blaise’s. “She’s been with us since my sisters and I were little, which makes her more like a surrogate grandmother.”
“It’s about time you got here,” a stout silver-haired woman wearing a pale dress and apron said. She set a platter on the table so she could hug Kiara. “You don’t come home often enough, and when you do, you’re late. Shame on you, missy.”
Blaise grinned, feeling more comfortable in the presence of the housekeeper than Kiara’s parents. He supposed that spoke volumes.
“And who is this handsome young man?” Janet asked, peering over Kiara’s shoulder at Blaise. She fanned her face. “Mercy me, child, now I understand why you haven’t been home. You’ve been too busy with this fine specimen.”
Mrs. Wagner pursed her lips and closed her eyes, seemingly embarrassed by her housekeeper’s appraisal of their guest. “Janet, this is Kiara’s friend, Blaise Thomas.”
Blaise tried to ignore her characterization of their relationship, but he couldn’t help wondering what Kiara had told them about him. “It’s nice to meet you.” He took the housekeeper’s hand in both of us.
“You look familiar,” she said, pressing a fingertip over her lips when he released her hand. “Where have I seen you before?”
“Blaise was a boxer,” Ki
ara said, her gaze briefly sliding to her parents. “He’s retired now.”
“That’s it!” Janet snapped her fingers. “My grandson has a poster of you on his bedroom wall.” She flattened her hand against her chest. “Personally, I think the sport is far too violent for little boys, but my son-in-law loves it, therefore, so does my grandbaby.”
Blaise wasn’t sure how to respond.
“I’m sure he would love an autograph,” Janet said. “Would you mind?”
“After dinner, Janet,” Mrs. Wagner said before Blaise could respond.
“Blaise, what would you like to drink?” Dr. Wagner asked, claiming his spot at the head of the table.
Blaise had never needed a stiff drink more. “Scotch on the rocks would be great, thank you.” He took the seat Kiara indicated.
“That sounds good,” Dr. Wagner said. “Janet, make that two Highland Park 30. Oh, and open the wine Blaise brought.” He pointed at the bottle he’d set on the antique sideboard. “And one more of the same.”
“Right away, Dr. Wagner,” Janet said.
Once they were seated, Dr. Wagner fixed Blaise with an intense look, almost as though he were trying to read him. “Kiara didn’t mention you were a boxer. Is that how you met? Did she represent you?”
“No, sir,” Blaise said, placing the crisp white napkin in his lap. “I own the gym where Kiara works out.” He could tell they were thoroughly unimpressed. “I bought the facility just a few months ago. I’ve started to train boxers there. Eventually I think I’d like more locations.”
“That’s interesting,” Mrs. Wagner said before turning her attention to her daughter. “How is your work, dear? Still happy there?”
Kiara’s smile looked forced as she reached for her water glass. “Yes, Mom.”
“I have to admit,” Kathleen said to Blaise, “I never thought her Harvard education would lead to work as a sports agent.” She laughed lightly. “Of course, she always was an athlete. I suppose I shouldn’t have been too surprised.”
“She’s excellent at what she does,” Blaise said, squeezing Kiara’s knee under the table. “I’m sure you’re very proud of her.”
Going For It (Texas Titans #7) Page 10