All Tyed Up

by Julia Harlow

  Isabel set her glass on the coffee table and stood up, staring down at him, crossing her arms tightly across her chest. “No, it is not agreed. I can pay for my own clothes. If you’re concerned that I won’t be dressed appropriately enough for you, then maybe you shouldn’t have invited me.”

  Ty was up off the sofa and grasping her by the shoulders before she knew it. “You are the most unreasonable, stubborn woman I have ever met! Why can’t you just accept a gift like a normal person?” He was almost shouting, and his words sounded as clipped as darts slung at a dartboard. Pilot rushed in front of her in a flash, growling at Ty, teeth bared. So much for his new best buddy. She gave her dog a silent command.

  All her anger evaporated. Her shoulders slumped, and it took an effort to raise her head to meet his stormy blue eyes. “I’m sorry, Ty. I didn’t mean to spoil our evening. It’s not that I won’t accept a gift from you. Don’t you think that this evening has been a spectacular gift? I’ve enjoyed every minute of it.”

  She squared her shoulders. “The best way I can respond to your kind offer of purchasing a gown for me is this: you’ll obviously have other expenses associated with the evening—tickets, beverages, and I don’t know what all—and that would be a gift as far as I’m concerned. I would feel more comfortable going to the Grandin Financial celebration, and less like a charity case, if I bought a gown for myself. Put yourself in my position for a moment. How would it make you feel if your date insisted on buying you a tux?”

  Ty was quiet for a long moment, and then he bent his head and kissed her on the lips. He tasted like the delicious port. When he pulled away, his broad chest rose and fell on a heavy sigh. “Okay, Isabel, you win. If that’s the only way you’ll go with me, then that’s the way it has to be. But you’re going to pay for this insolence. Give Pilot whatever command you need to so he won’t bother us for the next several hours. You’ll probably be making a lot of noise. You might even be screaming in ecstasy.” He grabbed her hand and began pulling her toward the bedroom.

  “Several hours? I’m not sure I can stay awake that long. Aren’t you tired?”

  He glared down at her. “You’re about to see exactly how wide awake I am.”

  ~~~

  Isabel awoke in the king-size bed, stretching her naked body over sheets so soft she might have been floating on fluffy clouds. A few twinges of discomfort in her leg muscles and between her legs attested to the sexual workout of last night. She still couldn’t believe Ty’s stamina. Even after he’d bent her over the bed and entered her from behind, next he’d wanted her to be on top, and after that he’d awakened her during the night for a luxuriously long session of missionary. Nothing plain or ordinary about that.

  She inched her fingers along the sheets in search of him, stirring up the lovely musky scent of their sex. He wasn’t in bed, but a note lay on the pillow in his black scrawl:

  Morning, my beautiful Isabel. Come and find me. I’ve already walked Pilot.

  Where was her dog, by the way? Not with her, obviously. She eased herself out of bed and into the palatial master bathroom. The serene pale gray and white palette of the master bedroom had been continued in the bathroom with pale gray tile covering the walls and floor and white marble counter tops.

  After a quick shower, drying and styling her hair, she applied a dab of makeup and dressed in a short navy skirt, white boat-neck T-shirt, and strappy red wedge sandals from the tote she’d packed the night before.

  Where was his home office? At this point, she’d only seen the living room and master bedroom suite. As soon as she strode out of Ty’s bedroom, she met a sheepish Pilot heading toward her, his tail low and wagging unenthusiastically, a gesture she knew translated to “I know I’m in trouble, but I really like that man. Please don’t be mad at me.” She wasn’t going to give in to him, so she snapped, “Where is he?”

  Pilot hung his head as he turned and led her down the hallway from the master bedroom, past the living room, and clear across the penthouse to another hallway. She was almost out of breath when her dog suddenly stopped outside a doorway.

  Peering into the room, she spotted Ty hunched over a huge carved mahogany desk, inspecting a document spread out on the leather insert of the desk. She drank in the sight of him. He wore a white T-shirt that stretched over broad shoulders, defined chest muscles, and clung to large biceps. His forearms were muscular, thickly veined, and sprinkled with dark blond hair. His brow was furrowed, and his hair was mussed, as if he’d been tunneling his fingers through it. He was the most spectacularly sexy specimen of his gender Isabel had ever seen in her life.

  Just then he glanced up; the furrows immediately vanished, replaced by a smooth brow and a huge grin. He crooked his index finger at her.

  “Morning, handsome,” she cooed as she made her way to him, her wedge sandals sinking soundlessly into the thick Oriental rug. She barely had time to glance at the stunning views out the large windows because, once she was within reach, he grabbed her around the waist and pulled her onto his lap. His other hand cupped the back of her head and angled it for the perfect kiss. He kissed her as if he hadn’t seen her in weeks: passionate, hungry, almost desperate kisses. She struggled to catch her breath when he finally leaned back.

  “Good morning, sweet thing. How are you feeling this fine morning?”

  She grinned up at him. “Truthfully, I’m a little sore. Those last two or three times may have been a bit much.” She sprinkled little kisses across his stubbled jawline and breathed in his fresh scent of soap and clean clothes.

  His hands trailed down her back to her bottom where he squeezed her cheeks. “Not too much for me.” He groaned. “Not nearly enough. I’ll never get enough of you.” She felt the truth of that statement as his erection pressed into her backside.

  “And I’m hungry,” she added.

  He waggled his thick brows. “Me too.”

  “I meant for food.”

  “Can you wait for a little while?”

  He thrust his hips up so that his rock hard shaft pushed against her backside. He grabbed her again and began kissing her senseless, his tongue entwining with hers in an erotic dance. God, this man could kiss: long, sensual, toe-curling kisses. He suddenly jockeyed her around so that she straddled his hard thighs clad in black sweat pants. His erection now strategically placed, the contact on her most sensitive spot made her shiver with pleasure. One of his hands slipped inside her T-shirt and up to her breasts, where he rubbed her nipples through her lacy peach bra. Before she knew it, he’d unclasped her bra and yanked down his sweat pants. He was naked underneath.

  With one quick snap, he ripped off her panties and tossed them aside, taking her mouth again before moving lower to capture a nipple between his lips and sucking. Isabel felt she might orgasm just from the persistent wet tugging on her nipple. But she wanted them both to come together, so she lowered herself slowly down onto his substantial shaft. He stretched her small size, but at the same time, the sensations of him inside her felt incredibly good.

  His hands grasped her hips. “Careful, sweetheart. You’re so tight; I don’t want to hurt you.” Beads of sweat dotted his forehead, and his T-shirt felt damp from his restraint.

  “No, you feel so good, Ty, so big and hard.” She forced herself down until she had taken all of him. Closing his eyes, he moaned deep in his throat. She started to move up and down on him, sliding more easily now that she was soaked, throwing her head back and reveling in the exquisite pleasure building and building. “I’m going to come, Ty.”

  “Me too.” His voice sounded forced and raspy.

  They came at the same moment, writhing together, each crying out the other’s name; their bodies held fast as one, arms clinging as if they’d never let go.

  When their hearts had stopped pounding and their breathing had calmed to a point where they could speak again, Ty whispered, “I don’t ever want to let you go.”

  She felt his hardness inside her. “But if you don’t, I might pass out from
hunger.” She squeezed his cock and he moaned.

  “That’s not making it any easier.”

  “I know.” She kissed his flushed cheeks. “But I really need the brunch you promised me, Mr. Griffin.” She steadied herself by gripping his bulging biceps, and carefully lifted off him. “Fortunately, I packed a spare pair of panties.”

  “I’d buy you two dozen more, but you wouldn’t accept them.” He scowled at her.

  “Try me. Those I might accept if you’re going to make a habit of ripping them off me. That particular pair was one of my favorites.” Her bottom lip thrust out in a pout as she straightened her skirt and T-shirt.

  “I must say you look quite irresistible in that little skirt and top. And those sandals.” One side of his mouth quirked up as he stared down at her feet. He stood, wiping his forehead with the bottom edge of his T-shirt, revealing that yummy flat abdomen and arrow of dark blond hair leading to heaven before tucking his shirt into his sweat pants.

  Watching Ty tidy himself in front of her seemed like such an intimate gesture, one that made her feel even closer to him, as if they had a deeper relationship than she imagined.

  As he reached for his phone, he met her eyes and asked, “What sounds good? Eggs Benedict, crepes, waffles and bacon, spinach and Gruyere quiche, pecan pancakes and sausage?”

  Isabel momentarily closed her eyes, her mouth watering as she imagined how delectable each one of those suggestions would taste. Her stomach growled. “Well, it all sounds good to me. What would you like?”

  “Oh, no, no. It’s got to be your choice.”

  “Okay. Hand me the phone and I’ll order for us.”

  “Press number two for the kitchen.”

  She pressed number two, and when a young man who identified himself as Todd answered, she said, “I’m a guest of Mr. Griffin’s, and I want to surprise him with his favorite brunch. What does he usually order?” Ty shook his head, meandering toward her.

  Todd didn’t hesitate to answer, “Mr. Griffin usually orders a smoked salmon, asparagus, and feta-cheese omelet with a side of pancakes.”

  “Would that be pecan pancakes or buttermilk?”

  “Buttermilk, ma’am.”

  “What does he usually order to drink for brunch?” Ty grabbed her from behind, plastering his body to hers and nuzzling her neck.

  “Fresh squeezed orange juice,” Todd replied.

  “Okay. We’ll have his usual order for two please: omelet, pancakes, and orange juice. And a pot of coffee with cream and sugar. Could you get it to the penthouse really fast? He’s awfully hungry. And when he’s hungry, he gets really cranky. There’s an extra tip in it for you.” Ty chuckled and grabbed the phone, ending the call.

  “You’re a minx, you know that?”

  “No, you’ve just starved me half to death. And I notice you didn’t mention a single one of your favorites in the options you gave me.”

  “That’s because I wanted you to have what you like.”

  “But I love smoked salmon and feta-cheese omelets and buttermilk pancakes with fresh squeezed orange juice. Who wouldn’t?”

  From his raised eyebrow, she thought she understood his meaning. “Oh, I get it. You’ve enjoyed brunch with other women here.” She stalked to the door to retrieve another pair of panties from her luggage. Before she reached it, he grabbed her upper arm, whirling her around and staring down into her eyes.

  “No, I never bring women here. This is my private sanctuary. You’re the only woman I’ve ever brought here.”

  That stopped her in her tracks, and she searched his face for any sign he wasn’t telling her the truth. His expression was more worried than anything else. Worried that she wouldn’t believe him? The longer she studied him, the more she believed him. Why would he lie about something like that, anyway?

  “Really? I’m the only one you’ve brought here?”

  Wrapping her in his muscular arms, he whispered in her ear. “You’re the only one, my sweet Isabel.”

  Chapter 14

  As soon as Conrad drove out of The Admiralty’s garage, Isabel dug around in her bag for her phone and dialed Ellen, patting down Pilot’s soft fur with her free hand. The dog crouched on the wide floor of the back seat and leaned the weight of his big body against her knees, his tongue lolling out of his mouth. Maybe she’d been too hard on him; Pilot couldn’t help it that he’d become attached to Ty.

  While she waited for Ellen to pick up, Isabel basked in the memories of the past twenty-four hours with Ty. Everything about him captivated her, from his sometimes gentle but often demanding lovemaking, to his ready wit, to the way he connected with her like they were two lost puzzle pieces finally put together.

  “So, you’ve deigned to call your best friend.” Ellen’s voice had her holier-than-thou tone when she answered.

  “Put a cork in it, Ellen. I need your help.” She proceeded to relate how she needed an evening gown that looked like it cost several grand but only cost a few hundred for a black-tie function that very night.

  “Well, maybe I’ll see what I can come up with when you finally get back here.”

  “I’ll be there in ten minutes, and you’d better be ready to hit the top resale shops, best friend.”

  Actually, Ellen did much better than that. She knew about half a dozen lower-end dress shops that specialized in knock-offs of the top designers in the industry. A few of her friends in the art world were of the “starving artist” variety, and Isabel remembered Ellen relating how she had accompanied some of them on shopping expeditions when she’d helped them find veritable treasures.

  Isabel tried on evening gowns at six different shops and had two of the shops hold gowns for her that might be possibilities until they closed that day. The fact that she didn’t have time for alterations limited her selection somewhat. But her almost perfect size twelve went a long way to making most of the gowns fit to a T. The dresses she’d eliminated either needed to be shortened or taken in to fit her little waist.

  The next shop was a small but trendy resale shop in the heart of downtown San Francisco. Isabel regarded the packed crowd of young women and sensed something in the air as the sound of hangers scraped across packed metal rods. Customers rooted through racks with as much intensity as soccer players in overtime. She heard the occasional exuberant shout, “Over here! Look at this!” But mostly there was a determined silence, except for the bell over the door that chimed whenever anyone entered or left the shop.

  By now, Ellen apparently realized that Isabel needed to rock the house at this Grandin Financial soiree and an average evening gown just wouldn’t do. She headed to the high-end rack and found a soft gold Carolina Herrera that she’d seen at Bergdorf’s in Manhattan with a six-thousand-dollar price tag on it right before she’d moved to San Francisco. Now it was going for three hundred seventy-five dollars. The fact that it appeared to be a generous size ten had her whipping it off the rack.

  “Here, try this on now!”

  Isabel knew better than to argue with that authoritative tone of voice and took the gown to the small dressing rooms at the back of the shop. They were all occupied, so while she waited for one to open up, she glanced down at the dress label and figured the only reason the gown was still here was because it wasn’t a one-digit size. She also noted that the dress didn’t look like much on the hanger, but she wasn’t going to second-guess Ellen’s infallible sense of fashion.

  When a dressing room finally opened up, she undressed and slipped the gown over her head, wiggling the slinky silk fabric down over her hips and struggling with the zipper up the back. When she finally had it zipped, she took a peek in the mirror and blinked. Twice.

  “Well?” Ellen barged in without knocking and then immediately stood still. “Holy shit, Bells, what did I tell you? Only a woman with a figure like yours could pull this off. This gown has amazing construction.” Ellen fingered the portrait collar and the wide crisscross of fabric that draped the waist and ended just below the bust. On Isabel’s ho
urglass figure that genius crisscross of fabric accentuated both her tiny waist and large, full breasts.

  Isabel had rarely seen Ellen so bubbly. “This is it! You have to buy it. It’s a perfect fit. Look at the way the collar displays your collarbone. So pretty. Ty is going to come in his designer tux trousers when he sees you.”

  “Ellen!”

  “Well, he will. No other woman there will have a dress so perfectly made for her. You’ll see. Get ready to have double daggers thrown at you: one for being on Ty’s arm, and the other for looking like you belong there. You know you really are his match, Bells.”

  Isabel knew that wasn’t true but busied herself pulling out her wallet after she’d changed out of the gown. While she paid for it, wincing when they swiped her credit card, Ellen scoured the shop for shoes, an evening bag, and earrings.

  The chirp from an incoming text caught Isabel’s attention. It was from Ty:

  Missing you. How’s the shopping going? If you need an opinion, I’m available. I’ll even offer to help you out of your clothes.

  She knew she had an idiotic grin on her face. She couldn’t believe Ty would take time out of his no-doubt packed day to text her. Or that he would be so playful. She tapped out a quick reply:

  Thanks for the offer, but Ellen is helping me in and out of my clothes and giving me all the opinions I can possibly handle. Missing you too. A lot. See you at six thirty.

  She’d just hit send when he texted back:

  You’re going to pay for that. Can you imagine what the image of Ellen undressing you is doing to a certain body part? I’ll collect on the debt later tonight.

  “What are you doing? The day’s flying by, we still have decisions to make, and you’re wasting time texting!” Ellen barked, staring at her incredulously.

  “Jeez. Okay! I’m done. Did you find anything?”

  “Only this absolutely adorable clutch.” She held up a gold-beaded minaudière clutch. “This is a Marc Jacobs. Sells for at least three-fifty at Nordstrom. Guess how much?”