by Cali MacKay
“Sweetie, we’ll have you looking like you just stepped off the Paris runway by the time we’re done.” Clearly, Ivy was delusional.
Exasperated with trying to make the dress comfortable, she gave up and pulled the dressing room door open. “This is not going to work.”
Ivy’s eyes went wide and she clasped her hands together. “Oh! You look gorgeous, Emmie. That shade is stunning against your skin, and the way it hugs your curves… He’s going to drop dead when he sees you. I still can’t believe you’re going out with Quinn Ryker. Most women would sign their souls over to the devil for a date with him.”
“Well, they can have him.” She tugged at the dress, already desperate to get it off—not a good thing if she planned to keep Quinn from sleeping with her. “The deep raspberry color is really nice, but the fabric has no give, and I’ll lose it if I have to be in this sausage casing all night long.” She’d spend the night holding her breath, yanking on the hem, and wanting to murder Quinn for making her go through this nonsense, all so she could keep her restaurant. It was absurd.
“Got it. You definitely need to be comfortable, and though this shows off your gorgeous figure and would definitely be a showstopper, there’s no point to any of it if you can’t enjoy yourself. And we definitely want you to enjoy yourself.” Ivy waggled her eyebrows at her with a mischievous grin before tackling the pile of clothes she’d already gathered. She pulled another dress from the pile and handed it to Emma, before flicking her long red hair over her shoulder. “Try this one. It’s nearly the same color, but the fabric is luxurious, and it has plenty of stretch, so it’ll accentuate your curves, but still be comfortable.”
Emma locked herself in the dressing room and attempted to get out of the dress she was wearing so she could try on the next one.
Ivy’s voice sounded through the door, thrumming with excitement. “Once we’ve got the dress picked out, we’ll grab lingerie and then find a pair of heels to match.”
“I can’t do heels, Ivy. I’ll kill myself.” It was going to be a total disaster.
“Not by the time I’m done with you, sweetie. And don’t forget, I also booked us in at the spa. You won’t recognize yourself by the time we’re done.”
Now that wouldn’t be a stretch, since Emma barely recognized the person she’d already become.
Chapter Four
Having refused to meet Emma at the gallery, despite her insistence, Quinn climbed the stairs to the second floor, taking note of the nonexistent security in her apartment building. With no lock on the main entry door, anyone could come up the stairs and either break into her apartment or be lying in wait for her, hiding in the shadows of the stairwell, since the lone sixty-watt bulb was doing little to fight back the darkness.
He didn’t like it. Not one bit. Something would need to be done.
Was that the reason she hadn’t wanted him to pick her up? He’d first wondered if it was because she didn’t want him in her personal space, given the circumstances of their arrangement. But now he had to wonder if it was because of the apartment itself, given the age of the building and its problems. Probably a little of both, though he could fix at least one of those issues.
He’d have to give it a bit more thought, because there was no way in hell he could leave her to live in a place that didn’t have basic accommodations like hot water—and he sure as hell wouldn’t let her risk her safety. Portmore was a safe enough community, but with the steady flow of tourists, there were always strangers wandering the streets, especially once the bars let out. The thought of her being injured…attacked…left him with a ball of rage spiraling in his gut.
She must have heard him coming up the creaky steps, because she was slipping out of her apartment and locking her door, before he’d even had the chance to knock.
And damn, but he practically did a double take. The girl was gorgeous.
Emma was wearing her dark brown hair down in a loose tumble of thick waves, and the raspberry-colored dress she wore hugged every curve like a lover’s touch. His cock went hard and strained against the fabric of his pants, making him want to drag her back into her apartment and forget the gallery.
Though he’d seen her plenty of times while she’d been working, she looked like a completely different woman tonight. There was a tender vulnerability in her that he hadn’t expected to see, and he couldn’t help but feel protective of her.
“We should go.” She was already heading down the stairs, leaving him to follow.
When he caught up with her on the sidewalk, he was determined to keep her from racing through the evening in an attempt to avoid him and distance herself.
Stepping to her side, he leaned in and kissed her, brushing his lips against hers as he rested a hand on her hip, his fingers splaying possessively over her curves, the fabric silky soft to the touch. She wasn’t overdressed, nor was she too casual—a perfect match to the sport coat and shirt he’d paired with dark jeans. “You look lovely.”
Even in the dim light of the evening, he could see a blush creep across her cheeks, her body stiff under his touch. “Thanks. I’m glad it meets with your approval.”
It was impossible to ignore the sarcasm in her voice, no doubt a reminder that the only reason she was there was because of their agreement. She was strong-willed and proud, but he was just as guilty of those faults and couldn’t hold them against her. Even though he secretly wanted to hold her close and fill her head with whispers of sweet words, there was another part of him that was happy to play her games.
“My approval’s earned, sweetheart, though you’re well on your way.” Quinn linked his hand with hers, surprised when she didn’t pull away or tell him to go fuck himself.
“And it’ll be a cold day in hell when I need your approval for anything.” She gave him a sweet smile that made him want to fuck her then and there.
“You may not need my approval, but I guarantee you, that before long, you’ll want it.” He brought her hand to his lips and kissed it sweetly, though he held her gaze with a look that told her he’d have her before long. Because damn…he couldn’t remember ever being so taken with someone—nor had he ever been more determined.
“You can’t truly think that’ll ever happen.” She glared at him with such an incredulous look, he couldn’t help but laugh.
“Maybe not, but you’re so fucking sexy when you get angry, that I can’t help but misbehave—and you do make me want to misbehave, Emma, in so many ways.” He brushed her cheek, her skin hot to the touch. “Look at you blush. If I had to hazard a guess, I’d bet it’s because, deep down, it turns you on to know that I’m going to have my way with you. And though you’ll probably try to deny that you enjoy fucking me, your body will betray you. We’ll both know the truth…that no other man has ever given you such pleasure.”
She looked at him so sweetly, batting her eyelashes at him as her voice dripped with honey. “Bite me, Quinn.”
“Happily, sweetheart.” He couldn’t help but laugh as he offered her his arm, wondering just how long she’d last before she slapped him. “Shall we go?”
“You make it sound as though I have a choice.” She gave him a sarcastic smile, before replacing it with a no-nonsense look as she climbed into his car—a vintage Aston Martin he’d taken out of storage just for the occasion. “Anything I should know going into this? I wouldn’t want to embarrass you or screw up some business deal you’ve been working months to land.”
“No, not really. It’s a charity event that I’ve contributed to, rather than business. Just try not to look like you want to carve out my liver and we should be fine.”
***
The artwork was provocative, with black and white photos of nudes, and yet he found his gaze constantly wandering back to Emma, his hard-on yet to let up. They chatted with the gallery owner and the other guests, but his focus never drifted for long. And he wasn’t the only one who’d noticed her.
Nearly every guy in the place had checked her out at one point or another, their eyes all
but undressing her, and though he had no claim on her, he was damned if he could control his jealous streak—a streak that had never before reared its ugly head. There was something about her that made him want to drag her off to a dark corner and fuck her senseless, to mark her as his own. Claim her as his. And he found that damn curious, since normally, he didn’t care enough to bother getting worked up over any of the women he’d dated, barely sparing them a second thought.
With an arm around her waist, he pulled her close and lowered his head to her ear, picking up on the spicy notes of the perfume she wore. “Do you see how every man in the place can’t help but look at you? Do you see how much they want you? But they can’t have you, darling, because you’re mine—all mine.”
The thought of another man’s hands on her made him want to hike her dress up and take her, pinned against the glass wall of the gallery with everyone watching as he staked his claim, so they’d know she was his—his and no one else’s. His own little art installation.
“Well, they can look all they want. It makes no difference, since there’s only one reason I’m here, Quinn, and that’s because you require it of me in order to save my restaurant.” Emma hadn’t pulled away from him, so when she spoke, her breath danced over his skin, the heat of it sending an ache of need to his groin.
Ever since he’d laid eyes on her that first time in her restaurant, he hadn’t been able to keep her from invading his thoughts, his constant hard-on an inescapable reminder of how much he wanted her—a hard-on that refused to stay away, no matter how many times he’d jerked off to his few memories of her. There was no way she should have this sort of effect on him, and now that he had her in his arms, he knew there was no going back.
“You may be here because of your restaurant, but I plan to make sure you enjoy yourself.” Still keeping her close, he steered them towards the back of the gallery, hoping there’d be fewer people there. “I want this to be a mutually enjoyable and beneficial arrangement for both of us.”
She stopped and spun to face him, fury in those pretty hazel eyes of hers and a blush across her cheeks and chest, making him wonder what it would be like to taste her skin, to taste her very essence. “You’ve essentially blackmailed me into being here by holding the lease on my restaurant hostage, and now you’re worried that I’m not enjoying myself?”
“I guess it’s the gentleman in me. And I do hope you took full advantage of the line of credit on the card I sent and bought some sexy little bits of lace to go under that dress.” He knew he was playing a dangerous game since she already hated him, and yet he couldn’t resist seeing her get flustered. The way her chest rose and fell in her anger accentuated her perfectly firm curves, and made his cock strain against his dark jeans, eager to have her.
She shook her head as if to clear it, and he’d have sworn that if they hadn’t been in a room full of people, she’d have decked him. “Have you lost your mind?”
“Maybe I have, since I can think of little else but getting you naked.” Still holding onto her hand, he spun her into his arms like a skilled dancer, so that her back rested against his chest and his cock pressed against her ass. Unable to resist, he nuzzled her, running his lips over the warm skin of her neck.
She surprised him when she leaned back against him with a needy exhale. He couldn’t help but tighten his hold on her and rake his teeth over the slope of her shoulder, desperate to elicit more of a response from her. She gasped as her hips tilted back against his cock and he let his arm slip around her waist to pull her even tighter to him as he nipped and kissed her delicate skin, unable to resist doing so.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Her words were a quiet hiss and he knew he was playing a dangerous game.
When he spoke, his breath was warm against her ear, eliciting a shiver from her body, still pressed against him. “If I had to hazard a guess, I’d say I’m making your nipples go hard against the soft fabric of your dress, and I’m making your panties wet. And if I thought you’d let me, I’d turn you around and kiss those oh-so-fuckable red lips of yours until your knees buckle.”
Then, before she had a chance to respond, he somehow found the strength to pull away from her, twining his fingers with hers as he led them to the next work of art. She resisted for a moment but then followed along with a glare that made him smile.
“Are you always so forward with women you’ve only just met?” She tried to extricate her hand from his, but he pulled her to him and slipped an arm possessively around her waist.
“They don’t normally interest me the way you do—and they certainly don’t make me try this hard.” He cupped her cheek and loosened his hold on her, wondering if she’d pull away. She didn’t. And damn if that didn’t make his heart race. He didn’t know what it was about her, but he seemed drawn to her, desperate to have her, and especially after that kiss on the beach, he didn’t think anyone else would do until he fucked her out of his system.
“But why are you even remotely interested? I know the type of women you date, and I’m nothing like them.” She shook her head with a huff.
“You’re right—you’re nothing like them. You’re exquisite—and somehow, I don’t think you have any idea just how captivating you are.” And she was. Intelligent hazel eyes, pouty full lips, high cheekbones, a thick mane of hair that made him want to fist it, and amazing legs that led up to curves that didn’t quit. Every man in the place knew just how special she was—though he’d made sure that they also knew he’d staked his claim, and not one of them was brave enough to challenge him.
“I don’t get you.” Her brow furrowed as if she were deep in thought, trying to figure him out. “I can’t decide if you’re a bastard or if it’s all an act.”
He brushed his thumb over her lips, taking her in with a hungry gaze, though her words still lingered in the air between them. “What’s your gut telling you?”
Her eyebrows perked up as her eyes shifted towards a smoky green. “My gut? My gut’s telling me to run.”
“Are you sure it’s not telling you to kiss me? Like this…” Nuzzling her, his stubble rough against her smooth skin, he captured her mouth in a kiss, gentle yet forceful, his tongue dancing over hers as his fingers tangled in her hair. His cock ached with anticipation as he deepened their kiss, loving the way her body leaned into him as her lush curves pressed against his hardened length.
Somehow, he managed to bring their kiss to an end, though he was damned if he’d be able to stay away for long, every fiber of his being desperate to claim her as his, to possess her until her lips could speak nothing but his name, and her body could do nothing but ache for his touch. When he finally managed it, his breathing was still heavy, his words but a whisper in her ear. “Maybe it’s telling you to throw caution to the wind and come home with me.”
“That’s not part of our deal.” All night long, she’d reminded him that she was only there because of their arrangement. Well, he’d make sure that changed before the night was through. He’d have her wanting him, just as much as he wanted her.
His fingers splayed over her hipbone as he pulled her to him, catching the elusive scent of her perfume. “You’re right. It’s not part of our deal, though there’s nothing to stop us from enjoying ourselves. I want you, Emma. And when I want something, I’ll do whatever it takes to get my hands on it.”
“You see?” She gave him a smug smile. “Just like that, you’re back to being a bastard.”
With a shake of his head, he couldn’t help but laugh. “I’m a bastard because I find you attractive?”
“No. You’re a bastard because you think you can just take whatever you want. Just like that.”
Momentary anger flared in his chest. He wasn’t some spoilt little rich kid who grew up getting everything he wanted. In fact, it was the complete opposite. He’d had to claw his way to the top from that cramped and dingy apartment in Southie where he’d shared a bedroom with his two brothers. He’d been determined and had worked his ass of
f to get what he wanted, and when he had become successful, he’d done his damnedest to do right by the people around him and his community.
“That’s where you’d be mistaken—not that you care to find out the truth when you can cling to your fantasy of me being an evil bastard.” He wanted to pace, wanted to shake her until she came to her senses, wanted to kiss her until she could no longer push him away. His tone cooled noticeably. “Come on then. Might as well get you home. I’m sure you wouldn’t want to have to share the same air with such a bastard any longer than necessary.”
“Quinn…” She grabbed his hand when he started to walk away from her. “I’m sorry—I really am. I was out of line, and it’s not as though I didn’t kiss you back.”
He pinned her with a steely stare, though she didn’t look away. “Tell me, Emma. Do you actually mean any of that or are you only saying it because you’re worried about your restaurant?”
She let out a sigh and gave him a shrug. “If anything, I probably lashed out because I am so worried about my restaurant. Believe it or not, I’m not usually such a bitch.”
With his anger dissipating in the face of her honesty, he couldn’t resist teasing her, a smile upon his lips as he took her in. “Are you sure? Because you look like you’re pretty adept at busting people’s balls.”
“Maybe just a little.” And damn if that wasn’t the first genuine smile he’d gotten out of her since their elevator incident.
He took a risk and brushed her cheek, his pulse racing as he touched her. “Come on then. Let’s get out of here. Are you hungry?”
“Starving.”
Chapter Five
“Where are we going?” Emma couldn’t quite figure Quinn out. He seemed to be every bit the playboy bachelor his reputation made him out to be—right down to the fancy sports car—and yet, there was another part of him that seemed completely different from the brash and cocky jerk he’d built his tabloid reputation on. Every time she got ready to murder Quinn for being such a pushy ass, the sexy, helpful guy she’d first met in the elevator would show up to make her question her judgment.