She walked farther in and… Oh my God. The building wasn’t just a skyscraper hotel. It was a castle in the sky. Gorgeous furniture. One-of-a-kind art and décor. Floor-to-ceiling windows looking out from the sixty-third floor.
“Excuse me, miss.” A uniformed man appeared out of nowhere. His exotic accent sounded beautiful. “I shall serve as your butler.”
Sugar’s mouth hinged open.
“If there is anything you need, please call for me.” He gestured with the remote in his hand, then placed it on a carved table. Nodding, he backed out.
A butler? She’d heard that even the worst tourist hotels in Abu Dhabi dripped money, but this was world-view blowing.
The room phone rang. Finding the cordless on a table, Sugar wondered if it was the hotel staff or Titan. “Hello?”
“Everything okay in your room?” It was both, in the form of Jared acting like hotel staff. “Need anything? Nicola should’ve talked to the concierge and had some clothes delivered.”
“I have a butler.” It was all she could say.
“Comes with the Titan package, baby cakes. Anything else to complain about, or you handling yourself okay?”
Jared the prick was back in force, and it was oddly comforting. They’d barely said a word after she’d choked down her protein bar.
“All good, J-dawg. Thanks for asking.”
They held the line, neither hanging up. Jared mumbled something more gruff than inaudible.
“What?”
“I’m coming to see you.”
“I have to take a shower.” She paced over to the closet. “Then I want to see Asal, check in with Nicola, meet the person from the United Nations watching—”
“They’ve been delayed. Everything’s fine, but legal red tape on this one is complicated. You have no idea the favors I’m calling in so you can watch out for this kid.” He grumbled again. “She’ll end up in a safe place, though.”
“Got it. Thanks.” Sugar walked through the expansive living room, over ornate rugs, and into the bedroom. That bed was larger than a king-sized mattress. With a look around at the closed doors, she eyed the potential closet.
“Take a shower and throw on some new rags.”
Holy Versace! The closet was filled with high-end, to-die-for stuff. She checked the tag. In my size! She liked Nicola better and better the more the two of them crossed ops. “I might get dressed, J-dawg. But, trust me, it won’t be in rags.”
He grunted. “Chop, chop.”
The call ended, leaving the dial tone ringing in her ear. Chop, chop? More like ka-ching. She knew Titan was well-funded and the boys lived the high life when they weren’t in the trenches. But butlered hotel rooms and designer civilian wear was enough to make her give them a harder time about working tough jobs.
She looked at her finger, which was still holding the tag. Grime coated. Caked with dirt. Disgusting. On a mission, she spun, tossing each layer of her clothes off as she walked to the bathroom.
Surprise, surprise. It was bigger than her entire bedroom at home.
Sugar eyed the shower and the Jacuzzi. Might as well live like the locals. She smiled and turned them both on. The shower would scrub away the layers of gross. The hot tub would soak away everything else.
***
Glancing at his watch, Jared tapped his boot. The elevator was taking too long, and the thing was the fastest one in the world. He had a million things going on, but he needed to talk to Sugar. Emphasis on the need, like it was a requirement, when it was most certainly not.
Just like he hadn’t needed to hit the hotel gift shop and send every stuffed animal, bags of snacks, and a pad of paper to draw on to Asal’s room. He’d spoken to Asal’s United Nations babysitter, but she had issued a warning—chill out on the gifts, something about not wanting to overwhelm the kid. Seriously? If he’d grown up on the side of a desolate mountain and suddenly found himself in one of the poshest hotels in the world, stuffed animals and candy wouldn’t be what shocked him. The running water and electricity would.
But he wasn’t going to fight with the UN lady, not after all the strings he’d pulled. Nor was he going to listen. If the hotel gift shop received any new kid crap, then Asal was going to get it.
Back to his bigger headache. Sugar.
He reached her door and knocked hello with the toe of his boot. No answer. After another kick-and-wait, he let himself in. One of the perks of owning an equity stake in the place and housing his team there any time they swung by the United Arab Emirates: he could show up whenever he wanted, no invitation necessary.
The UAE Hotel room was a joke. All the suites were more like luxury apartments. Indulgence was one of the many benefits of having offices in Abu Dhabi and Dubai. They didn’t spend much time there, but the time they did balanced the time they spent in swamps, deserts, and jungles while their enemies tried to kill them.
He’d found that people in Abu Dhabi treated caviar the way Americans did butter. There might have been more Ferraris and Lambos pacing the streets there than there were in Los Angeles. Too bad a few miles away, in hundred-degree desert heat, the ugly side of life existed. But the ugly side of life kept him in business. Despots. Tyrants. Arms. Drugs. Sex trade. This hotel was a bubble, and for the moment, he was okay with that.
He walked through the living room. No Sugar. Then he rounded the corner.
Bam! Strike to his throat.
Her fast hands retreated, and she moved to knee him. He spun them around the corner, slamming Sugar’s hand to the wall, disarming the 9mm in her other hand.
“Easy there, killer.”
“What the fuck? You can’t just walk in here, creeping around.”
He stilled against her. Her wet hair was tied up on top of her head, and her damp skin was wrapped in a towel. “I knocked.”
“I didn’t hear you.” Her face was scrubbed clean of makeup.
Au naturale and too goddamn gorgeous.
“Not my problem.”
“So you just walk in?” She pursed her lips disapprovingly. “Poor form, J-dawg.”
He loosened the grip on her wrist and drew back. Sugar dropped an elbow above his collarbone and went for his goods again. He blocked her knee.
“What the hell, baby cakes?”
“I’m sick of you showing up places.”
Her hair had fallen. Wet stands were strung across her face. The white towel barely covered the swell of her breasts. The rise and fall of her chest. The look in her eyes. The blood rushing through his body. It all pushed him to her again.
Deep within his chest, a growl vibrated up. “You want me to leave?”
She said nothing.
Slowly, he placed one forearm, then his other against the wall, caging her to him. His chest pressed against the towel. This was a good way to get her to run. Again. But he couldn’t walk away.
“Say you want me out, and I’m gone.” The scent of flowery, feminine shampoo beckoned him. He breathed her in. “But I don’t think you will.”
“You’re a cocky son of a bitch.”
He itched to touch her warm skin, to slide over its silkiness. “Not an answer.”
“Too bad.” She wasn’t pushing away and hadn’t kneed him again.
“I’m cocky. I see something I want, and I go after it. But you can have any guy you look at, so why you looking at me like that?”
“I’m not,” she whispered.
His mouth nuzzled past her hair, to a delicate spot under her ear. The scruff on his cheek scratched over her soft skin. She was too gentle to have been on a mountain, weathering the elements.
“Now this is the second time I’m going to call you a liar.” His teeth teased her earlobe. A staggered breath escaped her mouth. At the flick of his tongue, she tilted the angle of her head just a degree. He savored the kiss. “God, you taste good.”
His hands slid down the wall until he felt the damp hair hanging over her bare shoulders. His fingers feathered into the wet strands, and his lips traced along
her jaw, to her chin, then hovered over the fullness of her pink lips.
Her breath tickled him, and he closed the distance, covering her mouth. Electricity rolled down his spine, jackknifing his gut. Her fingers knotted into his shirt, pulling him in to deepen the kiss. Their tongues danced. She tasted as sweet as her name.
A furious need to hold her tight, to possess her, took over. It cleared away any thoughts like, Let’s fuck and get it over with. In its wake, it left a confusion and anticipation that made him more determined to lose their towel barrier.
He ripped off his shirt, then ravaged her mouth. The plush towel brushed against his skin, teasing and enticing him. Sugar’s hands caressed his biceps. Her fingertips scratched down his arms to where his hands wrapped around her waist.
She bit his lip, he opened his eyes. Midnight blue met his gaze as her lips smiled under his.
“Don’t say anything that will ruin this, J-dawg.”
Would you stop with the J—
She loosened the towel with a flick of her finger, letting the white cloth fall open like a curtain. Gravity tugged the towel, and he’d never seen a more perfect body. He drank her in, his eyes slowly burning a path from her chin to her shins, memorizing the perfection in between.
Sugar grasped his belt, unclasped it, and then pulled it loose. It dragged and caught on every belt loop before it came free and clanged to the ground. His pants hung on his hip bones, and she smoothed her hand over his hard-on, testing the zipper.
“Condom?” she asked.
He nodded. “Condom.”
Reaching to his back pocket, he pulled out his wallet, and she slipped his pants and briefs down. Both her hands took him as he toed off his boots and socks. She slithered her fingers up, over his abs, into the smattering of his chest hair.
“Bedroom?” He kissed her lips, biting and exploring her sinful mouth.
She shook her head. “Not a chance.”
Sugar never broke the kiss as she pulled him down to the rug. The landing was soft, and the fibers brushed over his back as she lay on top of him. His fingers entwined with hers. Everything moved quickly, releasing all the pent up should they, shouldn’t they? But her curves begged for attention. He wanted to kiss and caress, bite and suck. He wanted her moaning because of him.
She took a breath and locked her eyes on his. “Condom. Now.”
Hell, why try to change the course of a Sugar storm? The woman was on a mission. Who was he to slow things down?
He ripped open the foil, and in his gut, he was ready for more than a fuck. Something stronger. Something more intense. His brain had gone haywire. It was a dream come true, but the naked hurricane above him made it cloudy. “Sugar?”
“Please shut up.”
What’s your problem, Jared? Christ. Had he ever second-guessed a fast-and-furious? No. This couldn’t get any hotter, and he couldn’t want the woman any more.
Jared flipped them over, positioning himself between her legs. A groan purred from her lips.
“Please,” she begged him, breathy and moaning. She writhed under his weight. “I need this. You.”
His hips flexed, meeting heated flesh. Her eyes shut, a moan escaped her, and he kissed her, to catch it vibrating against his lips.
“Goddamn, Sugar.” As he inched into her, she met his cadence, and they moved in sync. Perfect fuckin’ precision.
She pulled her knees back, wrapping her ankles around his back. He had the all-clear to drive them both to heaven. With each thrust, she wound tighter on his cock. More wild. More in control of her fate. Her breaths went erratic, mirroring the one-two punch in his lungs.
Sugar called out his name as she climaxed, loud and guttural, stroking his stud gene and making him feel invincible. Her muscles pulsed, and she used him. God, how she used him, milking her explosion. He loved it. Use me, baby. Any and every way possible.
Her deep-blue eyes opened, churning like rough seas. The body that was always stronger than it looked made a move, righting herself on top. Her crazy brown hair was tousled. He looked down at her creamy, pink skin and rosy-tipped, full breasts that he could palm. He clasped her waist and slid his hands to the solid weight of her breasts.
She rocked her hips, smiling as she watched him thumb her nipples. Her hands snaked over his, up her neck, and into her hair. Sugar was on display. The view was magnificent.
Jared met her pace. Her devilish grin dared him to more. It was their battle of dominance, and damn if she didn’t try to win. Not going to happen.
She dropped her head back. Moans told Jared another pleasure bomb loomed, that she would climax again with each thrust and sway. He pushed her toward it, needing to see her release astride him. His hands caught around her waist, moving her and rewarding himself.
“Jared.”
She called out his name again, then called out to God. Her body bucked and arched. He held her in place, dragging it out, making her cry out all over again. She opened her eyes. Unexpected innocence, desire, and emotion catapulted him to release. Every muscle tightened. Everything he didn’t understand between them culminated then. All his energy and want poured into her.
His name fell from her lips as she bent over and kissed him deeply. Muscles going lax, his mind going empty, he could do nothing but feel her draped over him.
The kiss ended. Their cheeks and chests clung together. Sugar slid off him, and he wrapped an arm around her, giving her a pillow. They lay in silence, letting their breathing regulate.
He turned to her, unsure of the words after their intensity. Chalk one up to Sugar. She knew how to make his insides explode.
She sat up and snagged her towel. “That was fun. Glad we got it over with.”
What? He choked back, What just happened? Her words reverberated in his brain. He’d heard what she said, but… Yeah, no. He propped himself on his elbows. “Got it over with?”
As she stood up and wrapped her towel around herself, Jared stared at the transformation.
She pulled her hair away from her shoulders. “I’ll see you around,” she said and spun on a bare heel.
“Are you serious?” He jumped up and spun her back to him.
She raked a gaze over him. “You’re still naked.”
“’Cause we fucked thirty seconds ago.”
“So pull your pants up, big boy.” She gave him a fake smile and turned around again. “You should take that as a compliment, by the way.”
“Sugar.”
She stopped, looked over her shoulder, and shook her head. “I get it. Used to throwing women out, maybe they beg for a little cuddle time? Not me. Don’t worry.”
Jared pitched the condom in the trash, walked over, and kicked his pants and briefs into his hand. He laughed, shaking his head, then slid into his pants. Socks and boots went on next. He left the shirt off, tossing it over his shoulder.
He walked past her and went to the sink to wash his hands and throw water on his face. He rubbed a hand through his buzz cut and turned back to her.
Even in a towel, she could exude her typical badassery. He dawdled a minute more to piss her off, then said, “You’re kicking me out. Classic.”
“I’m not saying, ‘Don’t let the door hit you on the way out, Jared.’ I’m saying, ‘Glad we did that.’ Maybe now we can work together and not vibe. All that sexual tension, we had to knock it out of our systems.”
“Ah, so you did me a favor. Let me guess. You’ve decided one-and-done. Maybe it’s even your motto.”
Her eyes narrowed. “What?”
“We should talk about this later.” Pulling his wallet from his pocket, he extracted the folded e-mail and tossed it to her, then turned his back and made his way toward the door. He heard her unfold the paper, followed by a sharp gasp.
“Fuck you, Jared.”
“Too late. You already did.”
The hotel room door closed behind him, sounding finite, even though he could pull a key card out and open it again.
He stood in the hallway,
pissed off… and tense. He had no idea why he was so angry. Screw that ‘it was fun, see ya later’ bullshit.
He took a deep breath and turned to the door, having no clue what his next move should be. Screwing Sugar had messed it all up. He had known it would. Every damn thing would go bad. The last hour of his life needed to be deep-sixed. Turning away from the door, he pulled on the shirt and punched the elevator call button.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Back in the tub, Sugar propped her head on a pillow of towels and stared at the creased copy of her e-mail. Jared had known her feelings the entire time. She wished they would just go away—the feelings and the man. Her on-the-fly plan to screw away her interest was a big fat fail.
Should have stuck with your avoid-Jared-Westin plan.
When she closed her eyes, the shock on his face played over and over again. I’ll bet that man has never been thrown out of a bedroom, certainly not after showing off his moves. His muscles had muscles. His scruff. His chest hair. His hands. She shook her head, but the images kept coming. Jared was… substantial, in every conceivable way.
Her X-rated thoughts were knocked clear across the bathroom by another round of aches in her chest. And she had a substantial thing for him. No one else should touch him, kiss him, or do him. She’d just found out that she didn’t have one jealous bone in her body, but rather, her entire skeletal system simmered with jealousy.
Jared wasn’t a one-girl guy, and she didn’t desire to be that pathetic lady trying to change a man.
“I hate you, Jared Westin,” she said to the empty bathroom. Shut up. Playing pretend all alone was a bad habit. The only time she’d ever felt like this was when she’d almost lost GUNS. Other than her sister, that gun range was the closest thing she had to a significant relationship. It’d been there her whole life. Her dad had lost it in a poker game, the thieving bastard. And her lying mother had never been strong enough, or around enough, to tell him to get his ass in line.
It was a miracle Sugar had rescued GUNS. Really, it was a miracle neither she nor Jenny had morphed into their mother.
Westin's Chase (Titan) Page 6