High

by Zara Cox

  “So you see, everything else is superfluous. What’s important is you and me and our desire to explore what’s between us.”

  She was saved from answering when the car rolled to a stop beneath the exquisite portico of Zachary’s hotel. When the porter saw who was in the car, he jumped to attention and rushed to open her door.

  By the time he emerged on the walkway beside her, Zach had assumed the casually distant persona he’d displayed in company all day long. He responded to several greetings as he led her through the marble-floored, mouth-droppingly designed foyer to the bank of private elevators that serviced her suite and his.

  The hotel was decorated like the rest of Zach’s businesses she’d seen online and in person so far, touches of exquisite style with the barest hint of indigo that announced its master’s personal touch.

  They entered the elevator and he immediately turned to her.

  “Remember we leave for the airport in four hours,” he said as the doors shut, cocooning them in its intimate space as they were rushed up to the eighteenth floor.

  It’d just turned six. She’d taken Tracy’s advice and stayed acclimatized to the crazy time zone when they landed.

  Zachary’s private jet was picking them up in Paris but they were flying commercial from Shanghai. “That gives me enough time for a massage before dinner.”

  He sucked in a quick breath then jammed his hands into his pockets. A quick glance showed his eyes had darkened to slate. She didn’t know whether the idea of her getting a massage turned him on or displeased him because his face remained as neutral as it had been since the exited the limo.

  “The Indigo Flame serves the best lobster in Shanghai. I’ve reserved a table for eight.”

  “Great. Friday’s Child are performing at the club next door at nine, so that’ll be perfect.” Jax had sent her another message when she’d failed to attend their rehearsal on the plane. To refuse twice would be rude.

  Again she saw Zachary’s lips purse and this time she knew he was displeased.

  Too bad. He had no right to emote, subtly or otherwise, when they hadn’t even gotten to first base yet. Or when he seemed determined to keep himself at a distance.

  The past few months had taught her that she was severely lacking in reading men but despite that, Zachary Savage had made it clear—graphically clear—what he intended to happen between them. His words had left her so hot, she was milliseconds away from jumping him.

  Except he seemed to be in no hurry to follow through. Being made a complete fool of by Chris had left scars she was terrified would never heal. The last thing she needed was mixed signals from another man.

  “I’ll get your concierge to make sure your bags are packed and ready to go when we’re done with the concert.”

  That he’d conceded so quickly soothed her somewhat. But not enough to stop her from saying briskly, “No need. It’s already sorted.”

  He raised an eyebrow.

  “Tracy was looking lost after I told her I won’t be needing her this morning and that I was leaving early. She offered to pack and I accepted.” The pretty brunette who had been assigned to her had asked if she’d done anything wrong. Bethany’s quick assurance had pacified her. Getting her to sort out her the luggage she’d barely unpacked had pleased the younger woman.

  The doors opened and they stepped out. There were only two suites on this floor. She fetched her keycard from her purse and stopped in front of the door on the right.

  Dropping her bag on the delicate cream console table, she turned to find Zach leaning against the doorjamb. His gaze scoured the room then returned to rest on her.

  “So I’ll see you in about an hour?”

  He nodded but made no move to leave. The look in his eyes made her throat dry.

  “Something on your mind?” she said, noting how husky her voice had grown.

  “This is the last time you get a massage from anyone but me, Bethany.”

  The possessive throb in his voice made her stomach clench. “Enough with the highly charged words, Zach. For a man who constantly screws me with his eyes, the fact that you haven’t even bothered to kiss me makes me wonder if you’re all talk.”

  He jerked upright so fast her breath caught. He took a step forward, then stopped, fists clenched against his thighs. Her senses screamed with the need for him to close the space between them. But he just clamped his gorgeous lips together and shoved a hand through his thick black hair.

  Realizing he wasn’t going to come any closer made the insane need to feel his mouth on hers grow stronger. She watched him force control back into his body.

  “We met thirty-eight hours and forty-six minutes ago, Bethany Green. I intend to extract a kiss from those bee-stung lips of yours for every minute of that time—when the time is right. I will kiss you till you beg for mercy. Then I’ll kiss you elsewhere, right between your legs. I intend to eat you for hours, until you beg for my cock. And then I will fuck you until you pass out from screaming my name. And if you think those are just words, that I don’t intend to rock your fucking world, then I feel sorry for you. Because the reality will blow your goddamn mind.”

  Her mouth was still gaping open after he’d turned on his heel and left. It was only the sound of his door slamming from across the hall that roused her from her stupor.

  In a semi-daze, she stared around the room, unfocused and unsteady. She stumbled to the exquisite divan and collapsed into it.

  Without a doubt, Zachary Savage had a way with words. And she was discovering her body had developed a unique and heady way of responding to those words. She looked down and cringed when she saw her nipples erect, aching and clearly visible through her top.

  “God!” Disgusted with herself, she jumped up and headed for the suite’s bedroom.

  By the time the sweet, middle-aged masseuse appeared fifteen minutes later, she’d talked herself down from the raging, sex-depraved stranger she’d become and back to being the normal, sex-deprived woman she was used to.

  ***

  He’d meant it when he said he had no interest in the band. In fact, Zach seemed discomfited to the point of edginess, and they were barely thirty minutes into Friday’s Child’s private concert.

  “You don’t like rock bands, is that it?” She had to lean in close to be heard over the sound of the lead singer’s growly number; close enough to feel the heat of Zach’s skin just above the collar of his shirt and smell the tangy scent of his aftershave.

  In the semi-smoky club, she could see women, and some men, giving him the once over and stopping to look again. Not once did he return their gazes or show interest. His attention was focused solely, squarely on her in a way that made her feel as if she was plugged permanently into an electric feed caused by his eyes alone.

  He shook his head and a strand of his hair brushed her face. A tremble went through her.

  “I like rock bands just fine.”

  “But?” she probed, wanting him to throw her a bone. Despite him saying they didn’t need the superfluous contraptions of the whole getting-to-know-one-another thing, she wanted to know something about the enigma that was Zachary Savage.

  He made a sound that was halfway between a sigh and a huff. “Someone I once knew loved their music. Hearing them brings back memories.”

  She was so shocked he’d given her something personal that she didn’t want to acknowledge just what it was he’d told her. And she felt the next question bubble up before she could stop it. “Someone. Care to elaborate?”

  His eyes darkened. “Not particularly.”

  Again, stark and blunt. He didn’t have to say the words for her to know she needed to back off.

  This time she heeded the advice. Pulling her gaze from his forceful stare, she glanced towards the stage where the song was reaching its conclusion.

  Jax went through an elaborate series of drum riffs, ending in a deafening crescendo that made the room go wild.

  As they accepted the rousing applause, he looked over t
o her, pointed a drumstick at her and winked.

  Blushing, she smiled and waved.

  “You’re giving him the wrong signals. Stop,” Zach said, his voice holding an edge she was beginning to recognize.

  “Excuse me?”

  “Don’t let him think you’re available, because you’re not. And before you challenge me on that, think about the futility of it for a moment. Would you rather spend your last hours in Shanghai arguing with me or enjoying the band?”

  “I excel at multi-tasking. I can do both.”

  “Instead of arguing you can tell me what’s wrong with your feet,” he said.

  “My feet?”

  “You’ve been rubbing your arches against that table leg for the last ten minutes.”

  “They hurt more that I thought they would. The masseuse asked if I wanted them rubbed but I declined because I didn’t want to be late for dinner.”

  She’d been eager to see him again. And he seemed to know it. The smile he gave her sent goosebumps shivering over her flesh. His lids descended and he seemed to debate with himself for several seconds. Then his warm palm slid under her calf and lifted her leg into his lap.

  He started behind her knee. Warm, pleasurable hands kneaded her tight muscles in a sure massage that sucked the breath right of out of her lungs and made her blood pound hard in her ears. His eyes fixed on her face, he applied a subtle pressure all the way down her leg until he hit the prerequisite spot, right in the middle of her foot.

  Bethany couldn’t help the moan that escaped her throat. He heard it. Grey eyes darkened to almost black and his nostrils flared in reaction. He pressed his thumb over the sleek muscle again, hard enough to cause pleasure and pain. Her sex throbbed violently.

  “Do you like that?”

  She was too far gone to even think of being equivocal. “Yes.”

  Her simple answer made him smile. It was a smug smile, full of unrestrained satisfaction. She’d given the man what he wanted. A feeling of unexpected pleasure fizzed through her.

  “See how easy that was?” He increased the pressure, confirming that this wasn’t the first time he’d given a foot massage. A hot lance went through her. Stunned, she realized she was jealous.

  “Don’t gloat, Savage,” she snapped, trying to dispel the feeling. “It’s a turn off. You give good foot massage. Big deal.”

  His smile was lethally erotic. “I give good everything.”

  “And now you’re just boasting.”

  He stared at her for a long moment then he looked around, a brief look of restless impatience accompanying the movement. “Do we have to stay here?” he asked.

  “I’ll answer that after you’ve seen to my other foot.”

  He did, so effectively that the moan she’d sworn not to utter again leapt out before she could stop herself.

  His grip tightened for a second. “God, I can’t wait to hear you moan like that when I’m balls-deep inside you.”

  Her foot jerked at the image that rose in her mind. He pulled her foot closer, deeper into his crotch. When she realized just what the pad of her foot rested on, she gasped.

  He was large and full and solid as steel. Before she could dismiss the thought, her foot flexed against him.

  His groan was low and thick, a sound that rumbled along her nerves and struck straight between her legs. He clutched her foot against him for a second, then he reluctantly removed it. With care, he lowered her feet and slipped her shoes back on.

  “Not that I don’t appreciate foot jobs, Peaches, but the first time you make me come, I want to be fully seated inside your sweet cunt, with your screams ringing in my ears.”

  Her brain was frying but she still managed to blurt out, “Umm…Peaches?”

  His grin was wide and hot and so beautiful it made her chest ache just to see it. “That ass of yours makes me think of firm, succulent peaches. I can’t wait to take my first bite.”

  She was still absorbing that when he adjusted himself, speared a slightly shaky hand through his hair and stood. He gazed down at her, one hand held out.

  The band was in the middle of a tune about a hot, sultry night when she placed her hand in his and left the club.

  Tracy was waiting for her, both Louis Vuitton weekenders Keely had insisted she take neatly arranged on a porter’s cart when she reached her suite.

  The petite brunette’s gaze swung between Zach and her, and Bethany caught a swiftly hidden look of envy as her eyes tracked Zach to his suite door.

  She turned and caught Bethany’s gaze, then quickly smiled. “It’s been a pleasure hostessing for you, Miss Green,” she said, her tone betraying nothing but pure professionalism.

  Bethany smiled around the weird feelings coursing through her. “Thank you, Tracy. I’m sorry I’m not staying for the full trip.”

  “That’s okay. It’ll be a pleasure to act as your hostess again if…I mean when you join us for another trip.”

  Since there was zero chance of that happening again in this lifetime, Bethany merely smiled. Her smile widened when Philip emerged from Zach’s suite, carrying large designer suitcases.

  He exchanged a few words with Tracy before leading Bethany into the elevator.

  Bethany turned as Zach came out. Immediately, she felt that knee-knocking zing of awareness and increased pulse rate that watching him move brought.

  As if perfectly attuned to her, his head snapped up and his eyes clashed with hers.

  A slow smile lifted his lips and she forgot to breathe.

  “I didn’t realize Philip was seeing to you on this trip as well,” she said.

  “Philip has been seeing to me for over ten years,” he replied.

  Surprise made her steps falter. “But I thought he was my personal bodyguard.”

  “I may have made a few adjustments to the arrangements before we left New York.”

  “A few adjust— You mean you were so sure you’d achieve this end? That I’d come with you?”

  “Not sure. Hopeful. Besides, I trust Philip. More than any other human being.”

  The unexpected insight into his life made her glance at him, held her breath as she waited for more.

  But he merely stepped into the elevator and pushed the button for the first floor.

  The limo ride to the airport was different from the ride that had brought them to the hotel from their tour.

  With the business world up and active on the other side of the globe, Zach Savage went into full entrepreneurial mode. Earpiece in place, he fired up a laptop, murmured an excuse and then proceeded to make phone call after phone call all the way to the airport. He switched from French to English to German with a fluency that made her eyes widen in awe. He barely stopped to show his passport before he was back on the phone again.

  They were leaving the VIP lounge to board their flight when he turned to her with those laser, peace-shattering eyes. “I apologize for this, but I’m trying to clear my schedule as much as possible before we land in Paris. Is that okay?”

  The idea that a hot, deliciously sexy billionaire was asking her if it was okay to conduct business melted away the trace of irritation she’d been feeling. The thought that he was clearing his schedule just for her made her chest ache in an unfamiliar way. She reached for her purse.

  “It’s fine. Go ahead. I need to make some calls myself.”

  When he froze and raised an eyebrow, she answered. “My parents. I promised to get in touch when I landed in Shanghai.” She also needed to let Keely know she was deviating from her once-in-a-lifetime experience.

  As to whether Keely would root for her or not was another situation. For all her grab-life-by-the-balls attitude, Keely could be extremely grounded and conservative in certain situations.

  She might not think Bethany was making a mistake by accepting whatever it was Zachary Savage was offering. Then again, she might.

  Which was why Bethany chickened out and sent her best friend a text instead of calling her after she’d finished speaking to her pare
nts. Although they were surprised about her abrupt change of plan, they accepted her breezy explanation about why she’d ditched The Indigo Lounge experience—she’d decided to join a friend in Paris and Morocco instead of finishing her trip.

  She turned her phone off and followed Zachary Savage into first class. Noting that they were the only occupants, she turned to him. His gaze was firmly fixed on her as he conversed in fluent Italian and cut the connection only when a stewardess stepped forward and showed them to their seats. Bethany accepted her glass of chilled champagne and the chocolate truffles with a smile and tried not to look awestruck at her luxurious surroundings.

  Zach broke his conversation off long enough for take off. “Everything went well with your phone calls?”

  “My parents don’t know enough about my trip to question why I’ve descended into madness by abandoning it. All they want to know is that I’m safe.”

  He nodded. “Your safety is guaranteed. Never doubt that.”

  There was a depth of conviction in his tone that made her believe him. Taking a piece of chocolate, he fed it to her, watched her mouth with hungry, intense eyes as she chewed and licked her lips.

  With what seemed like monumental effort, he finally pulled his gaze away and sat back in this chair. “Try and get some sleep, Peaches. You’ll need your strength in the hours and days to come.”

  “Another boast, Savage?”

  “A very friendly warning from a very hungry carnivore who intends to stop only when you’re in danger of becoming permanently bow-legged,” he said darkly. He took her almost empty glass of champagne, set it to one side. Then he shook out the softly luxurious cashmere throw the stewardess presented him with.

  Before she could ask him what he was doing, he pressed a button on her seat and Bethany felt the seat recline with an almost silent whine.

  When she was fully reclined, he placed the throw over her and tucked her in. He picked up the glass and raised an eyebrow at her.

  She shook her head because she didn’t need any more alcohol. Between the power of his words and gentleness of his touch, her whole body was buzzing.