Twenty Times Tempted: A Sexy Contemporary Romance Collection

by Petrova, Em

  Her slow smile gave him his answer, her passionate kiss stirred his blood, and he ran a hand down the curvature of her back to her delicious bottom. With her pussy hot and moist on him, his cock had already started to harden. He could take no more. He thrust his hips up, telling her how much he wanted her again, desperately so, and she melted into him.

  Tongue met tongue in a sensual meeting, and he groaned, forever addicted to her flavor. As she moved down and left openmouthed kisses on his chest, working her way down, Logan closed his eyes.

  When her tongue glided down his shaft, he hissed as she kissed the tip and slid up and down on the sensitive head. Sweet heaven. As she came back up, licking her way from his ribcage, over his nipple, and back to his mouth, he was seized with a desire so powerful, he clenched his teeth and reined in the compulsion to push her on her back and dominate her body. He told himself he would take it slow the second time.

  He would have to renege on his own plan. Again.

  Capturing her face, he brought her in for a kiss. Her hand curled around his length and a moan escaped, for he knew she wouldn’t make him wait long. As she raised her hips and positioned the tip of his member at the entry to her pussy, teasing him, he thrust up fast and shocked her with his impatience. Her cry of pleasure at the sudden penetration, the way she threw her head back, with her nipples high and tight, Logan knew he’d never seen anything more beautiful.

  Bucking, he rolled his eyes to the back of his head as her wet sheath gripped his cock so right. The pressure already at an alarming degree, his needs clamoring for more, he brought her breast to his mouth, suckling, licking her nipple, as she held the back of his head to her chest. He licked the soft curve under her breast and grazed his teeth on the turgid peak. As her hips pumped faster, her slick heat a wild friction on his cock, he met her every thrust.

  Damn, he loved fucking her. She was his and his alone, and he couldn’t help but think this maddening desire for her meant she was made for him, for his body, his fantasies. No other woman had ever come close.

  With possessiveness, he maneuvered her to her back and sank in deep. She cried out, clutching his shoulders, a stunned look in her eyes.

  Mmm, only he could make her come like that. As she opened her legs wider and took all he gave, the small burn in his groin spread to his cock. It surged to the tip and begged for a release as he stroked in and out of the tight walls of her pussy. With her every satisfied cry, the thought of ending it nearly saddened him.

  It felt too good to stop. It felt too good not to finish.

  She whimpered, opening her shining hazel eyes halfway.

  Gazing down at her, he saw the naked passion, the tenderness, and devotion, and he decided he would lock that image in his mind. “Jordana,” he moaned, slowing, and came down to kiss her succulent lips. Of course, one kiss was never enough, and as she parted her lips and sensually slid her tongue over his, Logan shook with some unnamed feeling.

  He was lost in his woman. Never wanting to be found.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Le Coeur, a stylish, hip restaurant and bar on Sacramento Street, could boast numerous accolades, including a top ten San Francisco fine dining award and voted as one of the leading dining guide’s twenty-five best spots of the season.

  It was also co-owned by Deidre Savant.

  A simple search online proved the matriarch had her fingers in many public pies. Since her move from Los Angeles after retiring from showbiz, she’d been a very busy lady, her picture taken with everyone from political officials to celebrity chefs.

  At first glance, Deidre represented a figure of impeccable breeding and class. Not a hair out of place. Jordana almost couldn’t separate the real Deidre Savant from her character on Heart’s Horizon. She’d won a Daytime Emmy, too. Nothing to sneeze at.

  It was a shame, amongst all of her inspiring qualities, she also had a meddling dark side.

  As Jordana crossed the street, her boldness began to fray. She hadn’t told Logan what she was about to do, knowing he might dissuade her, but she was determined to meet his mother and clear the air. Alone.

  “Welcome to Le Coeur,” the hostess greeted. “Table?”

  An ironic name considering the French words translated to “the heart,” and Jordana concluded Logan’s mother was anything but romantic. “No, thank you. I’ll just take a seat at the bar.”

  A phone call before she left solved the mystery of when Deidre would be there. The hostess mentioned Deidre usually came in on Friday afternoons. Rarely on Saturdays. Never on Sundays.

  Finding an empty stool, Jordana was impressed by the decadent beauty of the place. The décor expressed a cosmopolitan chic atmosphere: a black, white, and fuchsia palette with crisp white linen, Murano-style chandeliers, ornate mirrors, yellow flowers floating in glass bowls, and sexy international beats of music mixing with conversations of the fashionable crowd.

  She ordered a glass of wine and kept her eye out for Deidre. It wasn’t long before the woman made an appearance, dressed in a Chanel suit, greeting a few customers before moving to give strict reminders to her hostess. Deidre was very precise and succinct in her verbiage, as if she had to speak slowly for her employee, lest the young girl not understand or keep up.

  Walking haughtily to the bar, she passed by Jordana, smelling of floral perfume.

  “Charlie,” Deidre snapped to the bartender. “Watch Willow. If she goes out for another smoke break in the next fifteen minutes, notify me right away. I’ve already warned her once.”

  The bartender nodded sharply. “Sure thing.”

  Deidre pursed her lips and raised her brow, passing her gaze over the room, as if searching for another reason to accost an employee about their job.

  Jordana saw her chance. She pushed her wineglass away and steeled her spine. “Ms. Savant?”

  Deidre’s clear blue gaze—almost identical to Logan’s—shot to hers and she offered a very small, polite smile that she would give any patron. “Yes?”

  Jordana reached out her hand. “I’ve heard so much about you, I feel as though we’re already…acquainted.”

  She doesn’t even recognize me.

  As Logan’s mother slid her cold hand into Jordana’s, it was apparent she’d been caught a little off guard. Without bothering to be discreet, Deidre looked her up and down, judging her straight on appearance.

  Jordana had chosen her clothes carefully for this meeting, donning black dress pants, a white blouse, and the opal necklace with diamond accents her father had given her mother. Hair up, no earrings.

  Jordana dropped her palm. “I love your restaurant. I was wondering if you have time for me to ask you a few questions?”

  “As in an interview? Are you from a magazine? It’s Friday night, and as you can see, we’re quite busy.”

  “Not an interview. It won’t take long.” Jordana forced a smile. “I promise to be brief.”

  Once again, Deidre surveyed her restaurant to see if anything needed her immediate attention, and then she gestured toward a small, empty table near the window. “What did you say your name was?” Deidre asked, taking a seat and crossing her ankles.

  “Jordana Shaw,” she replied breezily, sliding into the chair.

  Only the barest widening of her eyes proved Deidre’s surprise. She softly sucked in her cheeks and arched an eyebrow. “So you’re her,” she mused. “You hardly looked like this in your photos.” The woman’s stony expression revealed nothing. “I won’t apologize, if that’s why you’re here.”

  “Why would you? Clearly you thought you were doing your son a favor by trying to dig up dirt on me.”

  “I take it you and Logan have reconciled your relationship,” she remarked dryly.

  “We have, but your plan—whatever it was, partially succeeded. He wanted nothing to do with me after you showed him pictures of me with my ex-fiancé.”

  “The photos spoke volumes.”

  “They sure did. It’s a shame, however, that you didn’t show Logan a
ll of the photos Mr. Stiner took. You see, my ex wanted to get back together, but I had no intention of reuniting with him—”

  “I couldn’t care less about your complicated romantic web.”

  Jordana’s stomach burned at the cutoff. She knew Deidre would attempt to take the upper hand of the conversation. Gathering her courage, she retorted, “Apparently you do care, otherwise you never would’ve bothered to snoop. My engagement to Zack had been over for months, and other than his single visit that night, I never had any contact with him. But enough about my past.” She inhaled a breath and sighed. “You might be interested to know I initially turned Logan down for a date. We were from different worlds, and I didn’t think I could fit in.” Deidre lifted her brows, as though pleased to hear Jordana’s thoughts had paralleled her own. “I didn’t want to fall for him, but I did,” she added.

  Deidre swept a hand. “My son is one of the most eligible bachelors in the Bay, Miss Shaw. It’s hardly shocking you fell for him.”

  “True,” Jordana agreed with a single nod. “But that isn’t the reason you had me followed. It was because you knew Logan was falling for me.”

  Deidre’s throat moved, though her gaze remained straight and steady.

  With her confidence inching upward, Jordana’s frayed nerves settled. “What I would like to know is why you are so against Logan falling in love? With me? Is it simply because I’m ordinary? That I come from a name without legacy? That I’m not an actress or one of those well-bred debutantes? I really want to know what you have against me.”

  “It’s obvious. My son is out of your league.” A server approached the table with a question on her lips and a name tag reading Willow, and Deidre shooed her away with a sharp flip of her diamond-clad hand. The girl swung around, mouth clamped. Deidre set her gaze back to Jordana. “Logan deserves a very special woman. I know him a bit more than you do, and while his attention will be diverted with you for a little while, he’ll get bored in a short amount of time once he sees a future with you would hold zero value in our world. He’ll realize you have nothing in common, and it will eventually end. He knows it. You know it.”

  Jordana suppressed the urge to roll her eyes. Neil wasn’t kidding about this woman. She was a piece of work. “You own a restaurant. You’re head of the committee for the preservation of rare antiquities. I had no idea you were psychic.”

  Deidre dropped her chin. “Excuse me, young lady?”

  “I don’t think you have any idea of what Logan and I have, and that’s why you went so far. Whether or not it’s long-term is up to us, not you. If we’re as doomed as you claim, then you have nothing to worry about. It’ll simply be a matter of time.” She grabbed her clutch. “I said I would keep this brief. I might only be a medical receptionist with a non-Ivy degree, but I’m in love with Logan. I don’t want his money or his pedigree, nor do I care how far he can take me up the gilded social ladder. I just want to be with him.” Standing up, she smiled at the woman whose facial expression hadn’t changed one iota. “There’s so much about you I admire, Ms. Savant, and I’m easily willing to forgive and forget and start over. We don’t have to be friends and I don’t expect an invitation to dinner, but I do expect you to treat our relationship with respect, and I’ll do the same for yours and Logan’s.”

  Deidre didn’t speak, dropping her gaze to a spot on the table.

  “One more thing,” Jordana added, and she waited until Deidre met her eyes. “You certainly can choose whether or not to like me, but I hope the next time we see each other, if ever, you’ll share a bottle of wine with me and get to know who I am. In fact, I dare you to.” Satisfied, she turned to go, but she then stopped, hand on the door. “By the way, Willow just left for another smoke.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  “What do you want for Christmas?” Logan asked.

  Jordana shook her head with a smile. The past few weeks had flown by. Presently, they were sitting in a limousine, on their way to the famous Mallory holiday party, and predictably stuck in Friday night traffic. Bob and Meryl Mallory were a power couple well-known for their philanthropy, their Westminster-winning poodle, and their exclusive Christmas soiree.

  “You shouldn’t get me anything,” she said and meant it.

  He sighed with false exasperation. “I had a feeling you would say that.” He kissed the back of her hand. “You know very well I’m not going to take that response seriously.”

  “Well, you should, because I seriously don’t want anything. You’ve been spoiling me rotten as it is.” She touched the breathtaking diamond bracelet on her wrist, a delicate piece with yellow and white diamonds Logan had made by Charles Sigvy to match her necklace, but he didn’t stop there.

  Every week, he sent flowers to her apartment. When he couldn’t make date night, he’d reserve and pay for dinner for her and her friends at exclusive restaurants. He gave her gifts way too frequently and most recently took her on a weekend trip to Aspen. It was overwhelming.

  Her friends told her this was standard when dating a wealthy man and that she’d get accustomed to it in no time, so Jordana did her best to take it in and hang on for the ride. What she found somewhat challenging to deal with? That she couldn’t make the same kind of gestures for him, even knowing he didn’t expect her to. While it was obvious why she couldn’t—she made in a year what he probably made in a week—she began to feel a certain amount of imbalance. Their differences were so stark and real. It never bothered her until recently.

  “Come on, Jordana. There’s nothing rotten about you,” he drawled with one of his sexy smiles. “Anyway, I’m getting you something for Christmas and that’s final. Just give me a few ideas, and I’ll buy all of them.” He chuckled at her chastising look as his cell phone rang, and he took it out, frowning. “Sorry, I have to take this.”

  “Of course.” Another challenging client to contend with, she was sure. The Hamilton situation had finally been wrapped up and closed over a week ago, and another took his place.

  Logan worked until after seven most weeknights, and he often asked her to meet him for a late supper. She could never tell him no, even though she knew dinner would lead to a night out, ending at his place, and making love well past midnight. There were a few times she went to work with only a few hours of sleep, but it was always worth it.

  Even so, she expected him to unburden some of his stress, share his worries with her. But he never did, and once again, a little wall had been erected between them. He listened when she complained about a bad day at work, when her shower clogged and the super made a huge mess in her bathroom, and how anxious she was about her books. Little daily stresses she’d share and he’d advise how to manage.

  But Logan didn’t do the same in turn. She would encourage him and ask if anything was on his mind, but he’d only dismiss it and distract her with his charisma and his touch, whatever he could do to change the subject. While there were times they were undoubtedly close, some unmeasured emotional distance remained.

  She looked over at him, and he gave her a gentle smile, skimming her cheek with the back of his knuckles.

  It pained her to see him tense or strained, but with a CEO, she knew there were very rare days that would pass without some level of anxiety. Every time he appeared weary or worn out, she yearned to be there for him, sympathize or even offer advice, and it frustrated her when he shut her out when she wanted in.

  As he continued speaking in clipped tones to his VP, she lingered on his handsome profile for a moment, and then looked out the window.

  She’d wanted to tell him for weeks she loved him and had on several occasions come close to doing it. Fear it was too soon, fear he’d pull away, kept her from saying the words.

  A part of her felt like a coward for keeping her feelings hushed. Her mother’s soft words rang in her head: “When you love someone, you should say it right away, Jordana. Everyone should know they are loved by as many people as possible.”

  If only he would let her close enough t
o say it without reserve.

  He ended the phone call with a sigh.

  She glanced at him as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “What is it?”

  “Nothing I can’t handle.”

  His favorite phrase for whenever she asked what was wrong. She bit back a groan. Did he think she wouldn’t understand if he told her some details about problems at work? Likely, that was his reason. And that by telling her, he’d look less in control, which she knew he would detest showing. “Logan, you know you can talk to me. About anything. Whatever is on your mind.”

  “I have a million things on my mind,” he drawled with a smile. “It’s pointless to bring any of them up when all I want to do is enjoy our evening.”

  He had a point, but she wouldn’t give up just yet. “I may not be finance-savvy or know much about the industry, but I can at least make remarks that this or that guy doesn’t know his head from his ass. Or stroke your ego and say how brilliant you are. Or tell you,” she added, as he laughed and reached for her hand, “that everything’s going to work out.”

  “I appreciate that, Jordana. I do. Just knowing that is all I need.”

  Hello, wall. She decided to drop it.

  The Christmas party promised to be the social event of the holiday season. It was a shame Ashtyn and her husband couldn’t make it to this one either. She and Jordana had struck up a fast friendship, and it would’ve been nice to see a familiar face in the crowd.

  Ashtyn conveyed clear disappointment she couldn’t attend, but when Jordana asked why, the assistant only said Cliff had made other plans for them that night. From what Jordana could tell, Ashtyn wasn’t looking forward to those plans.

  Nevertheless, Neil would be there. Miranda and her husband were also going and a few other people Jordana had gotten to know through Logan. They couldn’t go anywhere and not run into somebody he knew. She’d started a notebook to keep track of them all so she’d never forget a face or a name. They were a popular couple, and weekends were filling up for them for this or that social event. At times, it was fabulous, at others, exhausting.