Westin's Chase (Titan)

by Harber, Cristin

  They reached the bottom of the stairs. She reached for the door, and he reached for her, knotting her arms around her and locking her into place, with her back against the wall. “You want crazy talk? You went missing, and I couldn’t think straight. You’re in front of me, and I still can’t think straight. I want to touch you, kiss you. Tan your ass for being such a pain and love on you so you know how damn much I need you.”

  He tried for a breath, then noticed the rapid rise and fall of his chest and hers. His hands framed her cheeks, and the bluest eyes he’d ever seen went wild and wide. “Shit, Sugar. I want to be buried in you for all the wrong reasons. Nothing to do with relief or release, and everything to do with pulling you closer. So that’s crazy talk, woman.”

  Her pink lips parted, probably out of shock. But he couldn’t resist. Not giving her a chance to run, he closed the distance, whispering more tender-hearted words, which even he couldn’t hear or understand against her pouted mouth. She was so soft and delicious that he had to groan. His eyelids drooped closed. His eyes might as well have rolled back into his head. Sugar opened her kiss to him, allowing him to savor it so deeply that he felt it roll from his tongue to his boots.

  She pulled back. “Thank you.”

  Hell, what for? He’d just molested her in a hallway and dropped a bomb’s worth of heavy-duty on a woman who didn’t seem to believe in… love.

  Blinking, she tilted her head. “You okay? Look like you’ve just seen a ghost.”

  More like the light. Tucking her under his arm, he opened the door to the parking garage. “Never better. Let’s roll.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  Jared couldn’t blame Sugar. She’d had a rough few days since they’d been home from overseas, and recovering from that trip would’ve taken anyone time. Maybe rough was downplaying it a little. Brutal. Exhausting. Harrowing. Those might be better descriptors.

  During the hour-long drive to his place, he hadn’t been the king of conversation starters. He was busy thinking about revelations and consequences. About Sugar. About the future.

  Sugar snoozed, leaning up against the passenger door, and he let her sleep. But driving didn’t keep him from stealing glances every half mile. It wasn’t until they arrived at his home that he could ignore the road completely and just stare at her.

  If he were honest, seeing what she thought of his place would stroke his ego. It wasn’t fancy, but it was his. He had lots of land, no neighbors, and more space than he could ever use. But Titan Group raked in the moolah, so he had bought a place that worked with his persona and paid homage to the superb job he’d done building his black-ops empire.

  He shifted the Expedition into park, and Sugar let out a tired sigh, but didn’t wake. He rubbed her shoulder, admiring the view and savoring the smoothness of her skin more than actually trying to wake her. Her beauty was so much more than skin deep. Asleep, she looked sweet and vulnerable. She sighed again, and he was cemented to the seat. Minutes, maybe an hour ticked by, and still, they sat. Still, he watched her. No woman had ever made him think about consistency or the long haul. Never had he chased a woman as he did Sugar. Correction, never had he chased a woman. Period.

  Sugar murmured in her sleep, and he would’ve killed to know what she’d said. In that moment, there was no question. He never wanted easy and simple again.

  He finally had her at his home, and he wanted… Hell, what do you want? Her to stay? Play house? The answer was categorically complicated. But he knew he wanted more. The need to have her there was primitive. He wanted her to stay, and it was about more than screaming orgasms and a beautiful babe. She’d burrowed into his heart. And his life. He wanted her there because having her elsewhere was unnatural. He needed her for no other reason than because he loved her.

  Ding, ding, ding. That was it. Congratulations for figuring that one out.

  Until that point he hadn’t defined love. He’d never had a reason, and it seemed all gushy Hallmark cards and candy-coated Valentine’s Day. It was Cash and Nicola playing footsie under his war room table, not caring at the eye rolls, or Mia and Winters giggling over baby pictures.

  That wasn’t his scene. It never would be, and that wasn’t Sugar’s, either. A heart-covered greeting card would end up in her trash. But she would be crazy-girl happy over something like a special-order scope or an antique pistol.

  Even Asal would fit with them. He had enough room for her to run around and enough money to make sure she had a good education and whatever else a third-world-meets-first-world kid might need. A good doctor. Nice clothes. Someone besides SpongeBob to teach her English. He cared about that kid in an entirely different way than he cared about Sugar, but it still felt damn near what he might call love.

  Love had never seemed like a practical emotion, one that just happened without active, willing participants. But as sure as he was that she loved GUNS like he loved his bulldog, he knew he loved Sugar and Asal. They all were supposed to have found one another. That was worth a conversation.

  Jared turned off the ignition and jumped out to open his front door. With her still sound asleep, Jared peeled open the passenger door so that Sugar didn’t tumble out. The seatbelt held her in place, and when he unhooked it, she shifted into his arms.

  He kicked the door shut behind them, but she didn’t blink. She was out for the count, and it made him smile that she trusted him enough to fall into a deep slumber on his watch. He carried her toward his bedroom, enjoying the hell out of his realizations.

  A loud snoring came from the master suite. Parker had dropped Thelma off earlier, and the bulldog lay sprawled across the king-sized bed. He whistled her down, but she stared, wrinkle-faced and wary of the woman in his arms.

  “First time for everything, girl. Now get down.” Bringing women to his home wasn’t high on the to-do list, and none had ever been in his room. That was his space. His and Thelma’s. Jared shook his head at his dog and realized that he needed to have serious conversations with two females, because Thelma wouldn’t take Sugar lightly.

  He whistled once more, and Thelma stood. Only then did he notice something that looked suspiciously like a destroyed beer koozie near her paws. He shooed her again, and Thelma grabbed the koozie and jumped off.

  As carefully as he could, he laid Sugar in the center of the bed and wrapped part of the comforter over her legs. She sighed, rolled onto her side, nuzzling onto his side of the bed, and burrowed her head into his pillow. She could have it if she wanted it. He and Thelma would move to the other side.

  Thelma plopped down by his boots, in a funk that she’d had to move her lazy butt. Jared scrubbed her head, scrunching her skin and wrinkles in his hands. “That’s Sugar. Try making friends. It’ll help when you have to learn to share the bed.”

  The pup groaned and rolled onto her back, and his gaze drifted back to Sugar. He had to get out of there. He felt creepy standing over her, watching like some kind of whack-job perv. But she was one of the more beautiful sights he’d ever seen. Her dark hair sprawled across the pillow, and her perfect lips let out sleepy breaths.

  Thelma groaned again. He chuckled and took the destroyed koozie from her, thankful for the distraction. He and Sugar would have a conversation when she woke up. She stirred again, and her back arched, making her breasts press into her T-shirt. Perfect-sized mounds waited for him. Jared shut his eyes, thinking that his hunger for her covered so many levels. A conversation about their future would happen pronto. Or maybe that would be the second thing they handled once she woke up.

  ***

  Warm light coaxed Sugar from her deep sleep. Not ready to wake, she turned away from the light and buried herself in the pillow. The scent from the linens acted like a shot of adrenaline. Her eyes flew open, and she lurched up, sweeping her gaze from one side of a masculine bedroom all the way to the other side of the huge bed she had been sleeping on. Curled on the pillow next to her was a dog that was snoring louder than a man could and was snuggled up with a rawhide bone the size
of a Cadillac.

  Where the hell am I? Jared’s?

  Her eyes peeled wider, if that was possible. The massive bedroom suite was decorated with dark wood furniture, but nothing personal, unless she counted the unused dog bed. There were no knickknacks or framed photos, but Jared wouldn’t be all Martha Stewart about his home décor. His interest probably lay in functionality, which she could appreciate.

  She studied the room. If this was Jared’s bedroom, she could only imagine where he housed his weapons. Under the bed. In drawers. No doubt there was a safe somewhere, but he would want easy access. She rolled to the side and draped her arm over the edge, running her fingers along the underside of the mattress until she found—gotcha—a handgun holstered closer than his alarm clock.

  She left it there, but that was her confirmation that she was in Jared’s bed. She’d never slept in a man’s bed before, nor had she ever allowed any guy to make use of hers. There she was, all alone except for a dog that had moved closer to her hip without so much as an off-beat snore. Then she laughed. Of course Jared would have a noisy, slobbery dog with a stealth mode.

  A sudden memory of a sickly Asal lying in her arms wiped her from the moment. She needed to check on the girl. She noticed a note and a cell phone on the night stand. Update from the hospital: Asal is doing well. Recovering quickly. Here’s the phone number to call and check on her if I’m not there when you wake up. She’s really a strong kid. -J

  After a call to the nurse’s station had assured Sugar that Asal was healing, she relaxed against the pillows and stared at her furry bunkmate. The dog opened one eye, slowing the snore to a noisy breath.

  “What’s your name?” She rubbed the furry head, and the skin moved back and forth. “Must be a bulldog. Love your wrinkles.”

  “That’s Thelma.”

  Sugar shot up and onto her knees, her adrenaline pounding. “Damn it, Jared.” He propped an elbow overhead and leaned on the doorjamb. “You scared the crap out of me.”

  He laughed and smiled, and it made her tingly all over. A smile pulled at her lips as she sat back on her bottom. Thelma rolled onto her back, nosing Sugar’s hand.

  He was clean shaven and dressed in daydream-worthy jeans, a cotton shirt that may’ve been painted over his muscles, and no shoes. Cover model material.

  “I think Thelma likes you. Wasn’t sure in the beginning, but she’s stood watch for a while now.” His dog nosed her again. “Guess it’s time for you to pay up. She likes petting, tug of war, and eating things she shouldn’t.”

  That was right. Jared’s dog had the stomach of steel. Her memory of passing conversations came back. “How long was I out?”

  “About a day.”

  Like twenty-four hours? “Whoa.”

  He laughed again. “No kidding. Between you and Thelma snoring, I kicked it on the couch last night.”

  What? Her cheeks felt hot, and her jaw dropped open. “No way.”

  Shaking his head, he laughed again.

  She didn’t recall ever seeing him laugh so much. “You’re a happy guy at home.”

  “Something like that.” Looking too hot to touch, he approached the bed. With a flare in his eyes and a strut in his step, that man was on a mission.

  “Hold up.” She scooted back until the headboard stopped her. “I need a shower. And a toothbrush. Preferably some makeup, but that’s a long shot at the Westin residence, I’d assume.”

  “You’re gorgeous.”

  “You’re crazy.”

  “Maybe I am.” He leaned forward and put his hands on the bedspread. “Get lost, Thelma.”

  The pooch jumped up on little legs and soared off the bed.

  “I will take the fastest shower of my life. But it’s gotta happen. Trust me on this one.” Such a man. He would be all hot and interested, until he felt up her legs and got a taste of her kiss. It made her want to puke. “Bathroom?” Was he contemplating a rebuttal? How couldn’t he be convinced? Maybe she could show a little leg and scare him off. She wrinkled her nose. “Seriously. Trust me on this one, J-dawg.”

  “You win. It’s that door.” He pointed over his shoulder.

  “Razor and a toothbrush?”

  “It’s all in there.”

  Okay. I can handle using his. That seemed natural, although maybe a little too close to home since she’d had thoughts about family back at the hospital. Playing house was fun, but if he’d known what was in her head, he wouldn’t have made that offer.

  Sugar swung her legs off the bed, then scurried for the shower. He would be waiting for her, and lust surged through her blood as she slammed a door between them. Lust and like. She really liked him. Even his dog. His bedroom. Probably his whole house. She liked his weapon choices and how he stashed them. She liked how he smiled and laughed when no one but her could see. More reasons to run. But she didn’t want to. Not yet. Not when playing house felt so—

  Sugar melted against the wall and stared at the shower.

  Knock, knock.

  She jumped away from the door, her hand automatically going for her concealed weapon, which wasn’t there. Old habits die hard. “Yeah?”

  “Everything okay? Need anything?”

  She flushed the toilet. “Yeah, haven’t been awake in a while. Had to pee.” Much better to confess that instead of admitting her imagination had just walked that man down the aisle.

  What? Wait. What? Her thoughts were moving from one major life moment to the next. Family. Marriage. That wasn’t her. It sure wasn’t him. She needed to get her head in gear, or all their great sex and all his babblings about how he’d caught her would turn into wilted memories.

  She slapped the shower spigot to as hot as she could handle and slunk in, embarrassed that her mind had betrayed her.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  Jared closed his front door and turned around to see Sugar standing in the hallway near the stairs, with nothing but a towel wrapped tightly around the swell of her breasts and barely covering her hips. So damn beautiful.

  “Who was that?” She pushed strands of wet hair off her shoulder.

  His eyes followed a trail down the slope of her neck. Bet she tastes fresh and clean and smells like soap. My soap. In my towel, after showering in my home. A possessive urge filled his lungs and made his fingertips tingle to touch her just-washed skin. He swallowed the urge to walk over and claim her in ways she couldn’t imagine.

  “One of the guys dropped off my Expedition after buying me a new spark plug.”

  “Oh.” Her cheeks flushed, but she rebounded. “All you had to do was ask. I would’ve returned it to you. It’s not like I threw it out the window. It’s in my purse. In my car, and it would be great if we could go get it sometime today.”

  He had no intention of leaving the house, and she certainly wasn’t going anywhere without him. “Maybe tomorrow.”

  “Why, J-dawg?” Her voice purred. “You got plans for us today?” She tilted her head to the side, raised one eyebrow, and then toyed with the top of her towel.

  Scrubbed clean, she could still look so dirty. Far too much space separated them. He crossed the room and pinned her to the wall, making a wicked grin play on her pretty face. “Guess what I have planned.”

  “We could play a game.” Her breath tickled his neck as her lips and tongue trailed to his collarbone. “Maybe Twister. That’d be fun.”

  She did smell like his soap—and his shampoo. He hadn’t even known what his shampoo smelled like until he smelled it on her. “Twister, huh?” His fingers feathered down her arms, and her skin prickled under this touch. “How is it that you’re always in a towel around me?”

  “I’m strategic.”

  “You’re something, all right.”

  Slipping her hands beneath the hem of his shirt, she rubbed his sides and massaged his lower back. Her touch melted across his skin, making him aware that he wore clothes and she was a cotton wrap away from naked.

  As her kneading fingers drove into his muscles, sharp scratches of
little fingernails made his teeth seal together. He held in a ragged breath, killing the urge to sink a bite into her shoulder.

  “I want to play…” She layered kisses on his chest. The sear of her lips burned through his shirt. “A game.”

  Oh, the games I could play. “I don’t like to lose.”

  “Neither do I.”

  “Just ’cause you’re dream-come-true material, sexiest thing I’ve ever touched, tasted, I won’t let you win.”

  Her fingers followed the back of his jeans to the front button, and bursts of sensations torpedoed across his skin. She rose on tiptoes and let her bottom lip drag across the base of his neck. “You promise?”

  “Don’t you want to know the game, Baby Cakes?”

  Sugar pushed her hips forward, pressing against his swollen cock. All the blood in his body had gone there, throbbing and craving Sugar. He did his best not to drop his pants and yank that teasing towel.

  It would be so easy to burrow deep inside her, to fuck until relief poured free. He needed it. They needed it, and the fire in her eyes said nothing about getting her warmed up. With every pouty sigh, every groan and moan, lick and kiss, she told him to get a move on.

  “Long as those strong hands are playing with me, I don’t care what our game is.” She molded her soft torso against his. “Challenge me.”

  His mouth watered at how wet she had to be under that towel, and the irregular beat of his heart failed to normalize, knowing that soon enough, silken strokes of her tight pussy would coax him into oblivion. It’d been too long since he’d felt her come on his shaft and since he’d heard sweet cries fall from her tongue.

  He tried for a deep breath, but she stole a kiss that sucked the air out of his soul. He was a goner. But she wanted a game, and a fun one percolated in the back of his mind—a challenge that would make her body and mind go into overdrive. It would make her vision blur with lust and maybe even prove that he respected her as much as he craved her. The perfect game for a firearm fanatic like Sugar.

  On a deep exhale, he stepped back and smiled as she gawked at the canyon of space between them. “Go get dressed.”