by S. E. Lund
“So, come have a coffee with me? Talk?” he said softly.
“I don’t even know anything about you,” I said. “For all I know, you could be a psychokiller, who’d tie me up and beat me black and blue.”
He laughed at that. “I might tie you up, if you wanted me to,” he said and leaned closer, smiling broadly, “but I’m not into pain. Besides, I don’t know anything about you either. You could be a crazy bitch who wants me only for my money and that would make me so sad…” He pouted and then grinned widely, his smile brilliant, his eyes twinkling.
“Look,” he said and stepped even closer, touching my chin with a finger. “We’re both young and good looking and attracted to each other. Let’s go to my hotel. It’s very nice. We can have a drink and you can decide if you want anything to happen.” He brushed a lock of my hair back. “You have nothing to fear from me.”
“I’ll think about it,” I said.
“If you don’t want to go to my hotel room just yet, why not go out for something to eat? There’s a great bakery that stays open late. We could get a coffee and a pastry. They do a great Napoleon slice.”
I inhaled and made a decision I hoped I wouldn’t regret. “Sure,” I said. “Coffee sounds great.” I took out my cell and sent Leah a text.
I’m leaving with Beckett for coffee. I trust you’re a big enough girl to get home on your own…
Then I turned and followed Beckett, my hand in his. Before I got outside, I turned back and saw Steve following us with his eyes. I wished he would just get a life and quit being my big brother. Then I put Steve out of my mind and I let Beckett lead me outside and into the warm summer night.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Beckett
I took her hand and pulled her out of the club. The vehicle that I had hired to ferry my guests around the island waited at the curb. The driver threw down his smoke and opened the rear passenger door when we walked up.
“Sir.”
I shook my head. “We’re walking down the street to the bakery. Follow us and wait outside.”
The driver nodded and got inside the car, starting the engine.
“You have a driver?” Miranda said, surprise evident in her voice.
I shrugged. “Just for the weekend. I don’t drink and drive.”
I took her hand and we strolled down the street. I enjoyed the warm night air and the prospect that if all went well, Miranda might actually come to my hotel room with me.
As we walked along the boardwalk, we talked about ourselves. She told me about her degree and classes and I told her about mine. I already knew most of what she told me and felt like a complete fraud when I pretended to be surprised, but I was in so deep at that point, I had no idea how to extricate myself even if I wanted to.
“You went to business school?” she asked, her eyes bright.
“Stanford, after I came back from Afghanistan.”
“Stanford? Beauty and brains,” she said and smiled, mirroring my own words. “My favorite combination.”
I laughed. “You see?” I said and squeezed her hand. “You should just come to my hotel room and fuck me now.”
That got her attention and she gave me a laugh, shaking her head at me. I was blunt, but I didn’t like to lead women on. If I wanted one, I let her know. I let her know what I wanted and what she could have from me beforehand so there’d be no miscommunication. No regrets.
“Don’t look at me like that,” I said, smiling. “It’s true. We’d be almost at my hotel if you agreed and in no time at all, we’d be getting off on each other’s bodies.”
She looked away. “If all I wanted was an orgasm, I could get one myself easy enough with my magic wand.”
Oh, man… That got me right in the dick. I loved that she could dish it out as much as take it.
“Sure, so could I,” I said, grinning widely. “It’s always much more fun to have someone help you with that.”
“I like to know what I’m getting before I buy,” she said, a smug look on her face. “You know – kick the tires, look under the hood so I don’t end up with a lemon.”
I laughed out loud. “You can look under my hood any time.” I glanced her way only to see her trying her best not to smile. “But I’m not for sale or rent. I’m all about giving it away. Helping those in need, Philanthropy, you know.”
She grinned at that. “I’m sure there’s always someone in need that you can help.”
I smiled as we arrived at the coffee shop and I held the door for her. “Beautiful ladies first.”
We went inside and stood in front of the display of pastries. The staff person came over to the counter.
“We’ll take a couple of coffees and a Napoleon slice, two forks,” I said.
Mira turned to me, a look of amusement on her pretty face. “Do you always order for your date?”
“Always,” I said and leaned closer to her, trapping her against the counter, my arms almost around her. “I like to take control. When I dance, I lead.”
That was the truth. I did like to lead – in all things in business and mostly in pleasure, although I loved it when a woman felt secure enough to take charge during sex.
I led her to a small table by the window and pulled out her chair. We sat and watched the traffic on the street while we waited for the server to bring our food.
“So, tell me more about yourself,” Mira asked, her eyes on me, an inquisitive expression on her face. “How is it you have a DEA badge and run a business?”
I had to tell her something, but I didn’t want to get into the whole business of my DEA career. Or my family, for that matter.
“I showed you my badge so you wouldn’t worry about the gun. You should just forget you ever saw that badge.” I raised my eyebrows suggestively.
Mira nodded and appeared satisfied. Her life growing up as the child of an FBI Special Agent must have prepared her for dealing with clandestine business. Plus, if she intended to get into the FBI, she understood discretion.
After our food arrived, we talked about ourselves for a while, and she asked me question after question about who I was and why I signed up.
“I was too young on 9/11 or I would have signed up right away,” I said, remembering how I felt after the attacks. “When I was old enough, I’d already started at Stanford. When we started getting reports about how bad it was in Fallujah, I decided it was now or never.”
She looked at me like she respected my answer. “How long were you in?”
“Only five years. When I came back home, I finished my degree at Stanford and started my own business. The rest is history.”
That was just about enough info on me. I decided to turn the tables and focus on her. I didn’t want to talk about myself anymore, especially my father’s side of the family, and I was genuinely interested in her. I knew a lot about her fallen husband, but very little about her.
“So tell me about you. You want to work for the FBI…”
She told me about her father, and how he was killed in the line of duty.
“Some guy wanted for racketeering. I guess the man didn’t want to go back to jail and there was a shootout.”
“Did the bad guy die?”
She shook her head. “No,” she said, her eyes distant like she was remembering. “He went to jail.”
I nodded, but something about her story rang a bell with me. I remembered hearing about a shootout in Hell’s Kitchen and an FBI Agent being killed. There was a lot of talk about it among my uncle’s thugs. “That must have been hard. When did he die?”
“Five years ago. It was hard,” she said, and I could see she was still affected by the memory. “My mother fell apart. She hasn’t been the same since.”
“So you have law enforcement in your blood,” I said, trying to change the subject to something less painful.
“Born and bred. Gramps was in Korea and then NYPD until he retired to run a bar in Queens.”
“See?” I said and held out my hand. “You and I have so mu
ch in common, besides mutual attraction.”
She smiled at that and I was pleased that in addition to us being physically attracted to each other, we actually could admire each other. Casey would love her.
“What bar does he run in Queens?”
“It’s called The Harp and Keg and is frequented by the cops in the local precinct. What about your biological father?” she asked, sipping her coffee.
We’d veered back into my life and I didn’t want to have to explain any of the connections we had with the Irish underworld in Hell’s Kitchen.
“He died, left the business to his gangster brother after I moved away with my mother and her new husband. That’s pretty much all you need to know about that side of the family.”
I tried to get the topic back onto her life and so I asked her about Dan, without revealing that I knew his name, that they were married and that I knew quite a lot about him already. She wasn’t going to talk about him. I wondered if she felt guilty, considering the anniversary of his death was fast approaching.
“Don’t want to talk about it?”
She shook her head. “It’s a sad story in the past. That’s all you need to know about it.”
“Fair enough.” I knew I couldn’t push her for more after that.
Her cell buzzed and she checked it. I got a text almost at the same time. I read it and smiled.
“Brandon and Leah,” I said softly, wondering what her response would be to the fact her friend and my friend were going to the hotel.
“Yes. I just got a text from her saying I’d have to find my own way home.”
She looked a bit uncomfortable and yawned, checking her watch like she wanted to go home.
“Bored with my company already?” I asked, almost resigned to the fact she wouldn’t come back to my hotel room.
“I have to work in the morning,” she replied and smiled, shrugging like there was nothing she could do about it.
“At the bar?”
She nodded. “I do the daily cash in the mornings.”
“I can make sure the hotel gives us a wake-up call…” I said, ever hopeful but not really believing it would happen.
She shook her head and smiled almost apologetically. “I have to go home.”
I sighed and finally, she leaned forward.
“Beckett,” she said, not meeting my eyes. “I really like you, but I can’t…”
“Why? If you like me and I like you, what’s wrong?”
“There are reasons,” she replied.
“Are you married?” I asked, even though I knew the answer but I wanted to be sure she wasn’t dating someone and my intel was wrong.
She shook her head.
“Engaged?” I asked, feeling a bit like a fraud, since I knew she wasn’t.
“No,” she said simply. “If I was, I wouldn’t even be going out for coffee with anyone.”
“Are you a lesbian?” I asked, grinning, hoping to make her smile.
“No!” she said and looked up at me, but then she smiled back. “Not that there’s anything wrong with that.”
I laughed. “I don’t see that there’s anything keeping you from enjoying my manly assets, which are at your disposal.”
I knew she was probably going to say no, but I wanted to give her every chance. I hoped she would take it, but given her history, I had my doubts.
She looked like she wanted to say yes, but couldn’t.
“I really should go home now,” she said and checked her watch again.
“Let’s walk a bit first.” I offered her my hand, wanting to postpone our parting. “It’s such a beautiful warm night.”
I took her hand and led her out of the café. Then we talked about nothing in particular but everything at the same time – her classes, Brimstone, everything except what was hanging between us – whether she would come with me to my hotel room.
After about fifteen minutes, I stopped and waved to the driver of the limo. “Let’s drive the rest of the way.”
The driver got out and opened the door. I helped Mira in, trying to be as much of a respectful gentleman as I could muster.
“Where to, Sir?”
“The hotel.”
Mira glanced at me. I was going to try to convince her, but only very gently. When we drove off, I put my arm around her shoulders and helped her with her seatbelt. She was nervous – I could tell by the way she smiled, her mouth quivering a bit. She was so beautiful, her long auburn hair falling softly on her shoulders, her cheeks flushed from the walk. Her dress hugged her delicious curves and yet wasn’t over the top sexy.
“You have a delicious mouth,” I said. “I want to kiss it again. I’ve wanted to kiss it again ever since you kissed me.”
Then I did kiss her, and she let me. In fact, more than let me – she kissed me back and that gave me hope.
I wanted her so much. My reasons were just as venal as any other hot red-blooded American male. She was beautiful and desirable, but also, I wanted to do more than just fuck her. I wanted her to want me. I wanted her to be helpless to refuse her own desire for me.
I slipped my hand from her shoulder to her waist, and then around her nicely curved hip. I broke the kiss and looked in her eyes.
“Your body is so lush.” I kissed her again and continued to explore her body, my hand roving over her silky dress, down her thigh to her knee, and then up between her legs.
Of course, the car stopped in front of the Yacht Club at that precise moment. I pulled away. “The driver will take you home from here.”
Then I brushed hair from her cheek, and kissed her once more, this time, more deeply, needing to impart some of my desire for her so she knew that if she wanted me, I was hers.
When I pulled away, her eyes were closed like she was swept up with desire.
“Come up with me,” I whispered.
“I’m not…” she whispered, and I could hear regret in her voice.
“I know you’re not,” I said and put a finger to her lips. “It’s just so rare to meet someone who is so perfect for me in every way. I can’t stand the thought of you just walking out of my life.”
I stepped out of the car before turning back to her.
“Come upstairs with me, Miranda,” I said and took her hand, pulling her out with me, gently. “Don’t leave me out here counting stars…”
CHAPTER EIGHT
Miranda
Beckett stood at arms-length, a slight tug on my hand. I took him in—tall, blond, well-built, narrow hips, his hair now a bit wild, his blue eyes heated. He looked like a million dollars in his suit and crisp white shirt, black silk tie.
He was the most gorgeous man I had ever seen, let alone imagined being with.
I let him pull me, giving in – to him and to my own desires.
We walked in silence into the hotel, a high-end three-story building attached to the private marina. Inside was all dark wood and brocade wallpaper with thick Persian carpets and mirrors everywhere. We passed the concierge and took the elevator and I was glad it came right away, because I didn’t know what to say to him, now that I’d decided to go to his room. This was the part of a date I had little experience with and felt awkward, but Beckett seemed as if he knew what he was doing so I let him lead.
Once inside the elevator, and as the lone occupants, he continued the kiss, pulling me against him as he leaned on the elevator wall. My body warmed in response to the touch of his tongue, his hands gliding over my back and lower, not quite grabbing my ass, just resting above it but low enough to remind me how close he was. I kissed him back, hungry for him, my eyes closed tightly, just giving myself over to the sensations he elicited in my body with his touch. It had been so long since I was in a man’s arms and felt his hard body against mine that I couldn’t stop, and shoved my guilt down deep.
He took my hand when the elevator door opened and pulled me down the hallway to a room on the third floor, past gilded mirrors and deep gold brocade wallpaper, the furniture dark wood with ornate ca
rving and paintings of old ships. After he slid the keycard into the door lock, he opened the door and pulled me inside as if he feared I’d change my mind at the last minute. He didn’t have to worry for if I was on the fence before about what was going to happen, I wasn’t any longer. I wanted this.
I wanted him.
He led me in deeper into the dark interior of his luxurious suite, equipped with a full living room and bar and kitchenette. I barely noticed the décor as he took my hand and led me through the suite, except that it was dark grey and white and burnished silver – very masculine. We went into a separate bedroom with a huge king bed and stood beside it, kissing once more, our hands on each other, now more intimate since we were alone and in his bedroom. He pulled me more tightly against his body, pressing his erection against me, sending a jolt of lust to my core, my breath hitching. His hands roved over my body, down to cup my buttocks and then up to squeeze my breasts through the fabric of my dress.
“Let me get this off,” he said as he reached down to the hem of my dress and pulled it up and over my head. I struggled a bit to get it over my head, but soon it was off and I stood before him in nothing but my heels, lace bra and thong. He took me in despite the dimness of the room, letting out a low whistle.
“You are so lush…”
I started to remove my heels, but he stopped me.
“Keep them on.”
I nodded, a shaky smile on my lips. Then he almost devoured me, his mouth moved down from my lips to my chin. He sat on the side of the bed and pulled me into his arms, his lips sliding down the skin of my neck to one breast, pushing aside the fabric to reveal my nipple. He sucked it into his mouth, sending stabs of desire through my body right to my clit. I squirmed helplessly, almost panting with desire.
“I have to see you,” he said and left me to turn on a bedside light, the lamp casting a warm glow over the room.
When he returned to me, I reached up and pulled off his jacket. “My turn,” I said, my voice wavering from desire. He helped me, throwing his jacket onto a chair against the wall, then we both attacked his tie and cuffs, until I was able to unbutton his white shirt, opening it to reveal hard washboard abs, just as I expected. He removed his shirt and finally, he was bare from the waist up.