by Jill Shalvis
The wedding was tomorrow. Marriage. Commitment.
Forever.
Words she’d thought about in a vague sense, but had never really applied to any of her relationships so far. How could they when just by being herself—a rather opinionated, strong-willed woman, that is—she always scared men away?
If truth be told, she wanted a man to love her to distraction. She wanted a man who didn’t care what she looked like in the most horrendous shade of pink that ever existed. She wanted a man who’d go out of his way to please her, even if it meant having a really stupid bachelor-bachelorette party.
She wanted a man to want her—not her title or her bank account—but her, Annie, the woman.
From inside came the sound of cheers, and Annie knew they must be doing the promised fashion show. She couldn’t do it, she just couldn’t.
Driven by these shaky emotions, that she couldn’t have explained to save her life, Annie moved into the shadows and walked the length of the balcony. She’d just go back inside via the next room over and sneak up to her room.
Simple.
Only nothing in her life was simple. The next room, which looked like a den, was dark.
And locked.
The room after that, possibly a library, was also locked.
And so was the next.
And the next.
Something akin to panic drove her on, in her shiny, skimpy black lingerie that rode up where it shouldn’t and threatened to uncover parts of her that should never see the light of day or, in this case, the dark of night.
Then she imagined having to go back to the fashion show, and pressed on.
Cool evening air caressed her skin. She tried not to picture how she looked—a solid mass of goose bumps on skin far too fair for a black vinyl thong.
A mosquito buzzed by her. She narrowed her eyes. “Bad mistake, bug, I’ve had all I can take tonight.” She wielded the whip and hit pay dirt.
Then tripped on her heels.
Good thing the paparazzi hadn’t followed her to Taos. She could only imagine the headlines.
Princess Annie Changes Her Image.
Tomboy Princess Annie Goes Hookerville.
News At Eleven.
Her father would kill her. Her sisters would never let her forget it. And Amelia…the woman who’d been like a mother to her, her mentor, her friend, would slowly shake her head and yet at the same time somehow make it all better.
Amelia always made it all better.
Annie wished she was home.
Especially when she found the next door locked, too.
Keep your head, came Amelia’s voice, strong and real. Annie didn’t bother looking around, she knew Amelia wasn’t standing there. And then, good luck. The very next room, also dark, also very quiet, had an opened window, with curtains softly blowing from the light breeze.
Keep your head.
Just as always, from across the globe, Amelia came through.
Lifting a stocking-clad, thigh-high-booted leg, Annie swung it over the windowsill.
KYLE HAD HIT dreamland. He was waist-deep in a hot tub filled with big-breasted, naked women, all there to give him pleasure.
Maybe this wasn’t dreamland, it was heaven.
Water lapped at his chest. A blonde sank into the hot tub in front of him, with a knowing, promising, wicked smile on her face. Her mouth hovered right above where he wanted it…
A sound startled his subconscious. Don’t wake up, he told himself. Don’t even think about it.
He sank back into the tub with the women, all of whom pressed closer to stroke their hands over his body while the blonde—
The window in his room slid all the way open.
Damn.
He came all the way awake, and was very unhappy about it. Dreams like that didn’t come along every day, and he’d been just about to get lucky, very lucky, as he hadn’t in some time.
Swiping a hand down his jaw, he blinked and stared at the figure straddling his window, one leg in and one leg out.
It was female.
He knew this because of the outline of the most luscious, curvy body he’d seen in a good long while. Slowly, a bit confused now, he sat up.
Was he still dreaming? The body silhouetted in front of him definitely could have been one of the bodies in the hot tub he’d just been dreaming about.
But, no. Not a dream. He was a cop all the way through to his soul. At the slightest noise he always came awake. He was definitely awake now. He threw the covers aside.
The woman, one leg in his room and one still out, went utterly still.
“Who’s there?” he demanded.
Another long frozen second, and the woman shifted, started to pull back out of his window.
“Oh, no, you don’t,” he said, and surged out of bed to the window, grabbing one silky leg.
He knew that leg. He’d know it anywhere.
10
HE HAD HER by the calf, and there was no doubt in Annie’s mind who he was.
His hand was gliding up, up, up, and then his fingers were gripping her thigh.
“Let go,” Annie choked out, trying to pull back out of the window, panicked that someone would flip on a light any minute, and highlight the outfit she still couldn’t quite believe she had on.
But for now, at least, they were in utter darkness. “Damn it,” she snapped, her breath backing up in her throat. Of all the rooms in the entire place, she had to pick his. Just his fingers on her skin had her insides doing the happy dance. “Let go!”
“I don’t think so.”
“Well we can’t just stand here.”
“You’re right. Don’t move, I’ll turn on the light—”
“No!” She lowered her voice with great effort. “Don’t even think about it.”
She heard his soft laugh. Soft, sexy laugh that the rugged, uncompromising man didn’t let go of often enough. Her tummy fluttered. Her nipples tightened, which meant they scraped against the rough material barely covering them.
“You ever heard of the word please?” Kyle wondered aloud.
She drew a breath in and tried not to scream. “Don’t turn on the light. Please.”
“Why?”
“Because…” Oh, hell. “Because I’m not exactly dressed for company, okay? Now let go of me and back off. I can’t breathe around you.”
“That’s very interesting, and we’ll get back to that in a second, but for now I’m interested in the not-dressed-for-company thing.” His hand skimmed up her back, her bare back, and slid under her hair. His thumb caressed the sensitive skin there. His other hand moved up her thigh, then her stomach. Also bare.
He let out a low whistle, his hands still roaming.
“Kyle,” she warned.
“I’ve got to still be dreaming.” His voice was husky and a little thick now, as his hand settled high on her ribs. If he so much as twitched his thumb he was going to get breast.
“It’s not a dream, it’s my life and it’s a nightmare,” she told him grimly. “Now, I’m going to back out of this window. And you’re going to go back to bed and pretend this never happened.”
“Tell you what.” His naughty fingers continued to play with her skin, causing shivers. “Let’s do this all friendlylike, okay? You come all the way in here and tell me what’s going on.”
“Or…?”
“Or I flip on the light.”
“How is that friendlylike?” she demanded, but as if he read her mind on jumping out the window, he tightened his hold on her.
“Come on now,” he said, gently forcing her into the room. Before she could so much as knee him, he had her in the window and on his bed.
By the time she leaped back up, he had the window and curtains closed, and then she was blinking like an owl in the bright light he flipped on.
His jaw dropped. “Holy sh—”
“I told you.” She crossed her arms over her chest, which didn’t exactly help. When she did that, the whip she still held nearly
hit her in the face. She stared at it, hissed in frustration and dropped that arm to her side. “I’m out of here,” she decided, and stormed toward the door.
Giving him an unwitting view of the back.
Or lack of, in this case.
He swore again, reverently, then beat her to the door, holding it closed. “Princess.” His voice was hoarse. “You’re…missing a few items of clothing.”
“Don’t tell me, you were class valedictorian, right?”
He ignored that to let out a rough groan as his gaze devoured her. “You’re…dressed like a dominatrix.”
“Your powers of observation are startling.” She pulled on the handle, but with his weight against the door, it didn’t budge. “You might not have noticed this part of the costume.” She lifted the whip. “But believe me, after tonight, I’m not afraid to use it.”
He actually almost smiled. “Hey, I’m not afraid of a little role-playing.”
He’d let her… Oh, good Lord.
“Let me guess.” He fingered the whip. “The bridal shower?”
“You’re laughing at me.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it.”
“Great. Fine. Go ahead and get some amusement out of this. Just as long as you let me out of here.”
“You’re just going to walk down the hall dressed like that?” His eyes were dark, and very, very hot as they ran over her body, stopping at the plunging neckline of the bra that barely covered her nipples. “You’re going to need that whip,” he said. “As every single male you see is going to drop his tongue and follow you like a puppy.”
She snorted. “Oh, please.”
“Do you have any idea how you look? Or what the back of that thing shows off? My God, Annie. You’re the most amazing—”
“Right.”
“—gorgeous, mouthwatering—”
“Are you going to be a gentleman about this or not?” she interrupted, not pleased at how his compliments warmed her.
He considered carefully, then slowly, almost regretfully, shook his head. “No.”
“Kyle, damn it.” All warmth vanished. “Give me a shirt at least.”
“You’d need more than a shirt, you’d need a potato sack.” He craned his neck and took another good, long look at her butt. “Tell you what.” He straightened, and this time his body seemed closer. “I’ll rescue you. On one condition.”
They were just barely touching now, and she realized she’d been so furious that she’d missed a very important fact.
He was wearing only a set of knit boxers. Very well-fitting knit boxers. “Um…you’re not dressed.”
“Yeah.” He nuzzled at her neck. “You startled me out of a great dream, but this is even better.”
“The condition, Kyle.”
He just stroked a long finger down her jaw. “Hmm?”
“The condition,” she fairly screamed. “You’ll rescue me on one condition, though I’m almost afraid to ask.”
His expression came slow and wicked and made every single bone in her body dissolve. “Oh, yeah. Be afraid. Be very afraid.” He leaned close, whispering, “Because my condition is this.” His finger slid down her throat now, and she shivered at the touch. At her involuntary movement, his eyes were positively slumberous. “You’ve said sex was overrated. I can’t seem to get past that, Princess. Let me prove you wrong.”
She slapped his hand away. “No way.”
“What are you afraid of?”
Afraid? She wasn’t afraid. Just the thought of letting him prove her wrong got her juices going. Hell, just his voice did that.
But she couldn’t…it would be out of the question…no. She was terrifyingly close to caring for this rough and edgy man. She’d rather march down the hallway in this outfit than be here another moment. Than let him disprove the only theory she had that made her loneliness okay. Sex was nothing. Sex wasn’t worth her time. Sex was overrated. Yes, she really had to stick with that theory. “Sorry.” She reached for the handle again, hoping against hope she could make it to her room without anyone seeing her.
But what if she couldn’t?
The thought of being discovered was enough to have her face burning. Her fingers were still on the handle though, and she’d lose face if he didn’t try to stop her one more time. “I’m…going.”
He nodded and stepped back. “Okay.”
“No, really.” She lifted her arms to remind him of how she was dressed. “I’m walking down the hall just like this.”
“I heard you.” He reached past her. “Here. Let me get the door for you.”
Oh, God.
He opened the door, but before it got more than two inches, she slammed it shut, pressed her back to it and glared at him. “You’re a jerk.”
“I’ve been told.” His lips quirked as he crossed his arms. “You have options, you know.”
“The decent one would be for you to help me out.”
“No one ever said I was decent.” He shot her another naughty look.
“Kyle.”
“Yes?”
She bit her lower lip, pride warring with common sense.
Finally, he laughed. Laughed. And if she wasn’t so pissed, she would have loved the sound of it. “Oh, baby,” he said. “If you could see your face. You want me to beg you to stay?”
“Please,” she whispered.
“Don’t you know, in that outfit, you could have whatever you wanted? Stay, Annie. Stay and let me prove you wrong. I’ll make it worth your time, I promise. I’ll let you do whatever you want, you call the shots.” He fingered the whip and waggled his eyebrows. “Unless, of course…”
“Unless?”
“You’re chicken.”
“Chicken?” she repeated incredulously, forgetting her near nakedness and her nerves. “That’s the second time today someone has said that. I’m not a chicken!”
But as she stood there, mind whirling, trying to figure a way out of this ridiculous mess, she knew the truth. She was a chicken. She was a big fat chicken who’d rather face public humiliation than what she felt for a man.
This man.
Because more than any other, he mattered. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Where was Nat when she needed her? No one on earth was more fond of telling Annie when she was being stupid than Nat was.
Okay, she just needed to play her usual routine she had perfected. Run hard and fast in the opposite direction. Which she would, as soon as she was fully clothed again. “Okay.”
He lifted a brow. “Okay?”
Oh, wasn’t he ever so confident, leaning back, arms crossed, lips slightly curved. She may be temporarily defeated but she wasn’t ready to call uncle yet. “You said I could do what I want. Well, okay, I’ll do what I want. I’ll…” She looked at the whip in her hand. “I’ll spank you.”
His smug look vanished in a heartbeat. His arms dropped, and so did his jaw. In his gaze was such a shocked surprise she burst out laughing. “You should see the look on your face, it’s priceless.”
“So you were kidding.”
“No.” She shot him back his own smug smile. “Not at all.” Lifting her chin, she flashed him eyes filled with daring. “I’m tougher than I look.”
“Well you look pretty tough right now.” His hand slid down her arm to her waist, which he gently squeezed. “Tough on the surface, anyway. But inside, where it counts, I’m thinking you’re soft and sweet. Are you soft and sweet, Annie?”
“No.” But she stumbled over the word, and not feeling so certain anymore, she drew in a shaky breath. “Are we still playing? Because if we are, I’m not sure I—You should know, I don’t play well. Ask anyone who’s ever dated me.”
He lifted a hand and slid it beneath her hair to cup the back of her neck. “We’ve already established that they’re all selfish jerks who don’t know how to please a woman.”
“They were diplomats and foreign royals and heads of state and—”
“Selfish jerks,” he repeated softly, his breath warming the skin benea
th her ear. “I know how to please a woman. I’d make it good for you. Now…let’s get back to that not being able to breathe around me thing. Are you breathing now, Annie?”
She let out a shaky breath and stepped away from the door, which put her nearly up against him. “I don’t know.”
When she tipped up her face, he took it as an invitation. The first touch of lip to lip was electrifying. He kept it gentle, had to keep it gentle, or he’d lose it. Nibbling at the corner of her mouth, he drew in the scent and feel of her. When she let out a reluctant sound of arousal, he shifted to the other side of her mouth and figured he’d never get tired of her.
“Kyle…” Her hands came up to his chest, probably to push him away, but instead they held on. She breathed his name again, more of a sigh this time. A sweet surrender completely at odds with the outfit she wore. All the blood racing through his body drained to parts south.
“Kyle…is this part of it? Where you prove my theory wrong?”
He opened his eyes and looked into hers. She thought he was still playing. Still messing with her.
And to be fair, it had indeed amused him to tease her. It had amused him to watch her fumbling response.
It didn’t amuse him to suddenly realize he wasn’t playing.
Nor did he want to.
He’d gone and done the unthinkable. He’d let down his guard. And like the enemy that most emotions were, she’d sneaked in past his guard, wormed her way into the one place he thought she never could.
His heart.
“Kyle?”
He ran his hands down her slim back and felt the vinyl banded over the softest, most creamy skin he’d ever felt. “I have to be honest,” he said, his voice hoarse as he danced his hands down to her hips. “I have no idea what this is.”
She let out a sound that might have been a laugh or a sincere agreement, and pressed her face into the crook of his neck. “You smell good. Like a…man.”
Now he let out that same sound, only from his lips it sounded desperate. Hungry. “Do we all smell the same, then?”