What the hell happened last night?
I sit up on my elbow and take in the rest of the beautiful girl at the top of the bed. And then I remember. I was about to leave, but my head was pounding like a son of a bitch. Hayden gave me a head massage, and I must have conked. Considering the low golden glow streaming in through the window, it seems I slept through the night.
Jesus. I don’t remember ever passing out like this, not even during my college days when I made it my business to power down cheap beer. And I’m certain it had everything to do with Hayden touching me.
When was the last time a woman touched me that way? Not for foreplay, just a gentle caress for the sake of caring for someone. Shit, has anyone besides my mother ever given me that kind of attention?
I rub my forehead, certain the answer is no. And not because I haven’t dated nice women. I never wanted to be touched in a caring way. Until last night. With Hayden. She put her pretty little hands on me, and heaven spread through my body. Everything after that is a blur.
I woke with this horrible moment of panic too. For a second I thought I was in another woman’s bed. I worried I’d made the biggest mistake of my life. Because the only bed I want to find myself in is Hayden’s.
This isn’t an attraction to a woman I work with. It’s never been that simple.
A light squeak sounds and Hayden stretches her arms above her head, her tank top straining against the most amazing breasts I’ve ever seen. No bra this time.
I groan. She is killing me.
Hayden glances over and sits up, confusion filling her face as she looks around in surprise. “It’s morning?”
“It would seem that way.” I sit up, my movements slow, and run my fingers through my hair, which I sense is standing on end. “Sorry about last night. That was…unprecedented. I don’t usually fall asleep in women’s beds. I’m typically too busy.” I give her a lopsided grin.
She rolls her eyes and smiles shyly, and damn if she isn’t stunning. I’ve always dated attractive women, but none of them looked like sunshine and dreams when they first woke. Oh, Hayden’s hair is a hot mess, and she’s got sleep marks along one cheek, but make no mistake. She. Is. Fucking. Beautiful. Her beauty beams from the inside.
We’re a foot apart, and a war rages inside me. This is the same girl who fascinated me for reasons my puberty-stricken brain couldn’t interpret. This is also the woman my hands want to touch and hold. But Hayden doesn’t trust me, and I sense it’s not all due to the past.
“I should probably go,” I mumble. If I stay, I will kiss her, and I’m not sure she wants that. Being with Hayden isn’t something I wish to fuck up.
“Are you thirsty?” She swings her long legs over the bed, and of course, I’m staring. Because her legs. “Apple juice okay?”
I nod in a trance and follow her. She’s in a tiny tank top and shorts, and I can’t seem to think straight.
Hayden enters the kitchen and opens the fridge. She pulls out juice and reaches up for glasses in one of the cupboards. I watch the graceful, unself-conscious movements that make her so utterly fascinating. And sexy. She’s in pajamas with morning hair, and everything she does—the sound of her voice, the way she moves—calls to me.
She pours two glasses and hands me one. I drink half of mine in a single swallow, the ripe, fruity flavor heightening my senses, as though they weren’t already on overdrive.
Hayden takes her glass and walks to the end of the kitchen where I’m standing. She hops onto a lip of the counter that’s lower than the rest and supported by shelving. Her legs swing back and forth, her ankles hooked together. She smiles over her juice glass. A secret, private smile. And that’s it.
I set my cup down, never taking my eyes off her, and step closer.
Her smile fades and her eyes turn huge. She sets her glass to the side.
I lean in and brace my hands on the counter next to her hips. “Are we finished with this?”
“With what?” she says, her voice a touch breathless and morning-raspy. Her golden eyes are dazed and focused on my mouth, and her pulse throbs near her throat.
“The game.” I plant my mouth on hers.
There’s a moment when I sense her surprise, as if this wasn’t the culmination of extreme sexual tension built up since the day I walked into Blue Casino and caught her with her ass in the air. Then her ankles unhook and she reaches up and grabs my shoulders, pulling me closer.
Game on.
I slide her hips flush with the edge of the counter, nestling my legs between her soft thighs—exactly where I’ve wanted to be for months. I’m no saint, but I am loyal, no matter what my exes say. And, apparently, hopeful. Because this is the reason for my long abstinence, even if I didn’t realize it. I’ve been waiting for Hayden.
My arms band around her, pulling her up until she’s plastered to my chest. I can feel her heart pounding. Or maybe it’s mine. Either way, she fits against me perfectly.
Hayden wraps her legs around the back of mine, and my groin presses against the sweet spot between her thighs. My breath stops at the exact moment a moan sings from her throat. The sound of that siren’s song snaps my control.
I pick her up and carry her back to the bedroom, her touch and taste burning through me. We reach her bed and I lay her down, immediately covering her with my body. Her arms wrap around my neck and she digs her fingers in my scalp.
I kiss the soft spot behind her ear and drop my arm over the side of her bare leg, hugging her to my body. I skim my fingertips from her calf to the soft swell that teased me the moment my eyes opened this morning, and squeeze her round ass. She moans again and arches into the rock-hard erection beneath my jeans.
“Hayden,” I say. In two seconds I could have her stripped and my body inside hers. And God, if that doesn’t drive every rational thought from my head—
I blink to clear the fucking fog clouding everything except the pleasure I want to give her, and pull back. “Is this what you want?” She’s already following me up, reaching for me, kissing my chin, my throat. I swallow, trying to maintain control, when all I want is to lose it. “Hayden?” This time, the question in my voice gets her attention.
She falls back and stares up at me, her breathing rough and labored like mine. But there’s a split second of hesitation in her eyes—and it’s enough.
I sit up and pinch the bridge of my nose. I want to be inside her more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my life—to own her body, and most especially her heart. And because I want that other piece of her I’ve never cared to own with any other, I can’t make a move unless she’s willing to give it all.
I stand abruptly. “I’ve gotta go.”
She sits up and grabs my arm. “Adam?” Her eyes are searching.
I’ve confused her. Jesus, I’ve confused myself.
I reach down and slide my hand through a lock of sun-kissed hair that’s fallen in her face, and cradle her jaw, bringing her close. I gently kiss her mouth and drop my forehead to hers, my breathing rough. “I’ll see you at work.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Hayden
I have been a jittering jumble of nerves ever since Adam left me this morning. How dare he leave me a hormone-crazed mess?
That kiss. Kisses. And his hands. The way he looked at me. With warmth, and also like he wanted to devour me. Had he not pulled away, I would have done whatever he wanted. Because I wanted it too. But he did pull away, and now I’m confused.
Everything felt right. The playful way we’ve been around each other these last two days as he worked on my house. And before then, if I think about it. When we weren’t fighting, that is. My physical attraction for Adam has grown deeper and it muddles me.
I care about him.
I drop my head to my desk and knock it a couple of times.
“You’re going to give yourself a concussion if you keep that up,” Mira says, her voice ringing out.
I groan. “Don’t you ever knock?”
“Why would I
do that?” She walks over and takes a seat across from me.
Her eyes narrow and her chin dips. “You look rosy. And flustered. Hayden, what have you been up to? You haven’t—Did you hook up with someone? I know we’re work friends, but I thought you’d share that kind of juicy detail.”
I roll my eyes. How does she read me so well? Oh, right, Adam said my emotions play out on my face like a book. Gotta work on that. “We are more than work friends, Mira. You’re one of my best friends in town.”
“Damn straight, so spill these horny details you’re hiding.”
I jump up and cross the room, sticking my head out the door to make sure no one overheard her. I close the door and swing around. “Keep your dang voice down,” I whisper loudly. “And there’s nothing to tell.”
“Of course there is. For one, who is he?”
I slump into my chair. And then I lower my forehead back onto the desk. “You don’t want to know.”
“Oh, I think I do.”
I look up to find her sitting forward. “I have a crush on someone I shouldn’t.”
Her eyes sparkle. “Those are the best kind.”
I shake my head and let out a sigh. “No, they’re really not.”
Mira’s warm brown gaze, a couple of shades darker than my own, drifts to the side. “Hayden, didn’t Adam come by this weekend to pay off his bet?”
I don’t say anything.
“Holy shit.” Her voice goes up an octave. “It’s Adam? I told you to get close, but I wasn’t suggesting that.”
I stand and walk around the desk, sitting in the chair next to her. I glance nervously at the door. “Keep it down already.” I take in her expression and cock my head. “You know, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you stunned before. Is this what it takes?”
“You and Adam? Um—yeah. I mean, I figured you two would go at it eventually, but I thought it would be wild monkey sex and you’d get him out of your system. I didn’t think you’d fall in love.”
“Lo—What? Why would you say that?”
Ignoring my question, she rattles on. “Adam is working for the bad guys, Hayden. What are you thinking?”
Over the weekend, I didn’t think once about the Blue Stars and Adam’s role in what might be going on.
I bite my bottom lip. “Is he, though? Maybe I’m wrong. I’m not sure about anything anymore.”
Mira shakes her head slowly, as though she can’t believe what she’s hearing. I don’t blame her. “Don’t let your vagina speak for you.”
I give her an incredulous look. “Leave my vagina out of this. She hasn’t been as active as you’re imagining.” Not that she wouldn’t have been active if Adam hadn’t pulled the plug this morning, but Mira doesn’t know that.
Mira is silent, and then she asks softly, “You really like him?”
I nod, my lips pressed together. “I really do.”
* * *
Adam
Paul is standing in the middle of the third Bliss suite by the time I catch up to him late in the morning. This suite is identical to the first one I visited the other day, except that it’s entirely furnished. They all are now. The only workers milling around are the decorator and her assistant. The contractors have cleared out.
And the place is spectacular.
I can’t say I understand why members would pay a quarter of a million plus annual dues for Bliss, but they will have access to a celebrity-worthy lounge and suite when they come.
“Decided to show up?” Paul says.
I may have arrived a little late for work after my impromptu sleepover. The best night of my life, and sex wasn’t even involved.
I can’t imagine a better way to wake than next to Hayden every morning, and I don’t even feel a nudge of unease thinking that. Which is what I realized once I got home. I want this thing with her to work. It’s why I pulled away when I sensed her hesitation. Hayden is important to me, and I don’t want to screw this up.
“What was it you wanted to show me?” I ask.
“That’s all you have to say?” He holds out his arms. “Well? What do you think?”
“It’s fantastic. The members will love it.”
“You haven’t even seen the best part.” Paul walks into one of the bedrooms and I follow. This room has a king-sized bed covered in red silk with a deep purple bedspread folded at the bottom. Red satin ceiling-to-floor curtains drape behind the bed. Across from it are more curtains over an oval tile stage. It’s not a stripper pole, though I think the point is the same. Whoever’s on the bed gets a show.
Paul sees me staring. “That’s not all. Check this out.” He walks across the room to the bathroom.
It’s as luxurious as the one I glimpsed the other day, but there’s no hot tub. This one houses waterproof chairs and wall shower nozzles everywhere, and it piques my imagination. It’s only been a couple of hours since I left Hayden and my blood is still running hot. “Nice.”
“You haven’t seen the pièce de résistance.” Paul walks to one of two doors and opens it. And this is where my imagination screeches to a halt. “Well?” he says.
I look at him, his narrow chin that seems to take up half his face, the slick hair he combs over with a slight wave to hide his receding hairline. Paul’s navy suit is on the boring side for my taste, but it gives off a certain professional air. Seeing him standing next to a BDSM room doesn’t.
Or maybe it does. Maybe this is where the rich and powerful exercise their eccentric tastes without the public knowing. “I think you’re catering to a certain clientele.”
He chuckles. “Not even close. Our members asked for the dungeon. We provided them a taste of it with Bliss 1.0, but they wanted more. Not everyone is into it, but we’ve outfitted every Bliss suite with a dominatrix bedroom.”
I take in the space that’s the size of the luxurious bathroom. There’s some kind of suspension frame and a leather bench. And dozens of whips, chains, and other forms of bindings and flagellation equipment, not to mention a sleek black chest of drawers I’m certain supplies additional sex toys. “How do you keep it all clean?”
Paul laughs. “You see the fun room, and that’s the first thing you think of?”
I glance again. “I’m not a fan of STDs.”
He slaps my shoulder and squeezes. I slide my gaze to the hand, then narrow it back on his face. He drops his arm and clears his throat. “Guess we know what role you’d play.”
Yeah, I get what he’s implying. I’m still not amused.
He closes the door and walks out of the suite, talking as he goes. “Our members are paying a fortune. We provide them with their own equipment, and set up the playroom to their specifications before they arrive. There’s a menu of escorts and house mistresses to choose from.”
“House mistresses?”
Paul stops and scratches his chin. “You really haven’t been to a dominatrix?” I give him a speaking look. “Suit yourself. You don’t have to like it; our clients do.”
“You and William seem to be handling members,” I say. “As hospitality, I assume I’m expected to make sure the high-class sex dungeon runs smoothly. What else do I need to know?” My voice is tinged with irritation.
“Bliss isn’t a sex dungeon. That would be common.” Paul shakes his head. “I keep forgetting you recently came into the fold.” He walks to the bar, grabs a tumbler, and douses it with Gran Patrón. Must be his favorite, because he chose it the night of my promotion at Farley’s as well.
He offers me some and I shake my head. Paul taps his Blue sapphire ring against the glass—an especially annoying habit of his—and stares down at the liquid as though thinking. “Bliss is meant to encompass anything and everything our clients could want.” He takes a swig and studies me. “Come on. Best way to explain it is to show you the rest.”
He heads for a door off to the side and opens it. “Gourmet kitchen. There will be a professional chef and staff on duty twenty-four-seven.”
And from the looks of it, the kitchen
is fully functional and ready to go.
Paul closes the door and strolls to what he’s referred to before as the concierge area, with opaque glass for privacy. “This is the brains of the operation. Each suite will feature a Bliss concierge, but in actuality, she’s the pleasure director. You’ll manage the Bliss concierges, but they will do the work of guest services. Each concierge will keep track of member preferences and supply them with whatever they need.”
“Supply them?” I say.
Paul punches in a code to the glass door and crosses to a computer, where he spends several seconds typing in passwords. A new screen pops up. “Meet the Bliss database.” He clicks through images of beautiful women. Dozens of them. “These are the escorts. As I mentioned a week ago, no need for you to look into more dancers. The few you hired are great, and we’ve taken care of the escorts. The original plan was to see if any of the dancers were willing to provide escort service, but we’ve come up with a better solution through Blackwell’s connections. We have more women than we need, and you’re going to drool when you see them in person.”
I highly doubt it, but I humor Paul. “What else?”
Paul pulls up a spreadsheet. “Here is the list of equipment we supply.”
Which consists of items I glimpsed in the sex dungeon, as well as condoms, lubricants, and other personal care. I point to another list. “What is that?”
“Decoy names we’ve come up with for the drugs our members might wish to procure during their stay,” he says. “We learned from Bliss 1.0 that keeping drugs in-house could be problematic, so our escorts deliver them when they arrive.”
“Which also encourages members to use escorts if they want drugs.” And—Jesus—puts the criminal liability on the poor girl delivering them.
Paul smirks. “Exactly. They pay the price of two for one. Though once the escort arrives, I can’t imagine they’ll want her to leave.” He grins licentiously. “By the way, how did you like the product I sent to your house? Haven’t used it all up, I hope? That was top grade. Costs us a fortune, but we have an inside connection.”
New Blue (Blue Series Book 5) Page 16