by Mel Teshco
He’d hoped his single status would change sooner rather than later, had staked his life that although Claire slept with men for money, what frightened her most was her attraction to him as a whole. One that had little to do with the size of his bank balance.
Except now the game had changed, and he’d discovered his usually faultless instincts were totally skewed. She was in love with another man. Someone who didn’t even appear to have money, and likely wasn’t a client.
“Right this way,” the waitress said, leading them to a small, intimate table at the end of the rectangular, bricked room.
Claire smiled up at him as he pulled out her seat before he took his own. He ordered a bottle of wine, and as the waitress departed he turned his attention back to Claire. The flame of a squat red candle flickered, chasing away the shadows and illuminating her face.
His chest ached with longing. She could have been a Madonna in a painting of old.
She cleared her throat and looked around. “I didn’t even know about this place.”
He nodded. “It’s only been open for a few months. But there’ve been some great reviews.”
She smiled at him like he was the keeper of knowledge. He resisted snorting. If he was so damn smart he would have done everything in his power to keep her eighteen months ago. Instead he’d let his pride and hurt feelings rule over his heart.
“Looks like I need to get out more.” She lifted a hand. “At least in my own suburb. This place is a gem.”
“Then let’s hope it lives up to its reputation.”
The waitress returned with their wine, uncorked and then poured it into two flutes. “Are you ready to order?” she asked.
Claire reached for her menu, skim-read it and said, “I’ll have the rib fillet steak, medium-rare, the baked potato and a small side salad.”
Mackenzie added, “I’ll have the same, but medium-well with the steak.”
Once the waitress took their menus and left them in peace, he reached over and clasped her hand. He had to ask her the one question that had been bothering him ever since he’d overheard her words to another man. Had to ask even if it half-killed him to hear it. “Claire,” she visibly stiffened at hearing her real name, but he continued undaunted, “do you really have feelings for that man you were with earlier?”
“Bradley?”
He nodded. “I’m guessing that’s him. You said you loved him.”
She stared up at him, as though seeing him for the first time. “Why do you even care?”
“Why do you find it so hard to believe that I do?”
She blinked up at him, emotions flicking across her face so fast he couldn’t pin one down to define just exactly what she was feeling. “You pay to be with me. Why would you even want more from me than that?”
He frowned. “Do you think you’re not worthy of anything more meaningful than sex with a man?”
Damn it. They were getting nowhere, one question following another, following another.
She withdrew her hand from his clasp, and he felt her distance like a physical blow. She drank some of her wine, placed the glass down carefully and said, “It’s my job to believe exactly that.”
“Then how do you feel about me? Really feel?” he asked. God, he needed to hear the truth like he needed air. What she said next could change everything between them.
She blinked again, but this time it looked like she was driving back tears when she asked, “More to the point, how do you feel about Emma?”
“Emma?” It took too many seconds for realization to set in. Holy shit. She really thought he was that low? It might have been funny if the situation wasn’t so damn serious. “I love Emma, of course I do. But not in the way you think.”
*
Claire swallowed back jealousy as she took another mouthful of her wine. She didn’t want to know about his feelings for Emma, and yet she needed to hear it.
“So you love her, but you’re not in love with her?” she asked.
He nodded. “Yes, that’s it exactly.”
Her belly lurched. “Does Emma know?”
He smiled, his face tender. “Of course she does. She’s my sister.”
She gaped at him, jealousy, envy and a whole shitload of unwanted emotions draining out of her. “Seriously?”
His hand covered hers. “Yes, seriously. I’m sorry if you were misled into thinking otherwise.” His thumb stroked her knuckles. “Guess I should have had some photos on the walls of my cabin after all. Then you would have seen the resemblance and known right away I had a sister.”
She blew out an unsteady breath. “I just wish you’d told me sooner.”
“I wish you’d asked me sooner. Just as I wish you never thought I’d stoop so low as to have a woman in my bed at home while sleeping with you in a hotel room.”
She blinked. He was right. He was an honorable man, despite the cutthroat world he lived in. Though she had no doubt he’d do anything for the woman he loved.
Their food arrived then, and Claire inhaled the aromas with renewed enthusiasm, her belly sharp with hunger.
Mackenzie thanked the waitress, who seemed overly eager to please, before he smiled at Claire and said, “Let’s eat.”
Claire couldn’t remember a meal that tasted half as good. It was as if all her positive energy had made her appreciate every bite. Happiness danced across her tastebuds and re-energized her, warmth stealing through her veins and settling between her thighs.
God, she couldn’t wait to get to his room and make love to him. Even her nipples felt sensitized, eager for Mackenzie to pull each one into his mouth, and lick and suck …
The waitress led a group of young men to an empty table behind them. Claire glanced at them and gaped at seeing Bradley in the group. But of course if this place had just opened and already buzzed with reputation, many of the locals would be dining here.
Bradley stared back at her and her smile faded. Something felt … off. He wasn’t the same laid-back man she’d seen hours before. Wasn’t the same easygoing, friendly guy she’d grown up with. He looked keyed-up and on edge.
She looked away, hiding her frown. She only hoped Mrs. Gracie was okay. But surely Bradley would drop by her table and let her know if something was wrong.
Mackenzie leaned forward and murmured, “So … are you going to tell me now your feelings for the man behind you?”
She leaned forward, their heads almost touching. The last thing she wanted was for Bradley to overhear their conversation, though the muted roar of conversation going on around them would surely drown out their voices. “I told him I loved him … but he knew it was only as a friend.”
Mackenzie’s gaze sharpened. “He wanted more?”
She nodded. “Yes. But I don’t feel that way about him.”
“What about me?” His eyes glinted, before a half-smile pulled at his lips. “On second thought, don’t tell me. Not here. I want you to tell me in complete privacy.”
He leaned forward a little more then, his lips brushing across hers. A tender kiss that underscored possessiveness she couldn’t deny. He pulled back, his gaze snaring hers. “I vote for bypassing dessert.”
She nodded. “I do too.”
Cake or pie didn’t compare to the multiple orgasms he’d give her. Didn’t compare at all.
They both stood, and Mackenzie clasped her hand even as she froze on hearing snatches of conversation.
“A whore? No. Way.”
“Wish I could afford to fuck her.”
“Nothing that damn sexy is free.”
“Man I’d do anything for a piece of that pussy—”
Claire withheld a gasp and pressed a fist to her churning belly. If Mackenzie heard the conversation, he gave no indication other than a tightening of his jaw. His hand squeezed hers before he led her out of the dining room and toward the front of the restaurant where he paid and generously tipped. A minute later he guided her toward his car and opened the passenger door.
She looked ahe
ad, unable to think or feel. Hurt was a poisonous barb deep inside her heart. Bradley had been her childhood friend; one she’d thought would always have her back.
She couldn’t have been more wrong.
Chapter Ten
‡
Mackenzie drove through the congested Sydney traffic, withholding a fury that had almost disabled him the moment he’d overheard the sickening conversation about Claire.
But as much as he’d wanted to knock some heads together over such blatant disrespect, he’d refused to give in to the violent urges that his father had fallen victim to. He refused to follow in the footsteps of the one parent he loathed. A pity it’d almost killed him to stay silent and strong.
Whatever Bradley had been to Claire, it was over now. But what burned Mackenzie the most was that he was likely the one responsible for Bradley’s changed perception.
Little wonder she hid her profession and became the mysterious Scarlet.
He glanced Claire’s way. Despite the brave front, she looked too damn fragile. The intimate, happy mood from earlier had faded away like it’d never been.
He blew out a steadying breath. There was only one thing for it. He’d make love to her tonight and make her forget everything but pleasure. His jaw clenched. His instincts urged him to protect her, to take her away from the very profession that both sustained and slowly destroyed her. Except if it hadn’t been for her profession, he’d probably never have met her, never have fallen for the woman behind the gorgeous exterior.
He pulled up at the hotel and a porter retrieved their luggage while a valet parked the car. Mackenzie took care of their booking at the reception desk, before he placed a hand on the small of Claire’s back and guided her toward the bank of elevators.
Not even a minute later they stepped into the luxurious suite, where floor to ceiling windows showcased panoramic views of Darling Harbour. He flicked on the lights. He doubted Claire noticed much of anything. He’d soon change that. Closing the door with a snap, he said huskily, “Come here.”
She turned, releasing a shuddering sigh before she stepped into his arms like she needed to be there. Her lips were soft and responsive under his, and he groaned against her mouth as he cupped her ass, loving the gentle curve of her cheeks, the press of her generous breasts against his chest.
God, even her scent drove him wild. Apple blossom and the ocean, fresh and clean, yet sexy and wild. A contradiction that was perfectly her.
He drove his tongue into her mouth, tasting her, exploring her, even as he propelled her backwards until she fell onto the bed. He followed her down, kissing her deep, drinking in the little moans that thrummed a nerve straight to his cock.
He pulled away only long enough to drag the dress over her head. A tearing sound filled the air, and Claire stared up at him, “It has little buttons at the side.”
He grinned, passion and heat pulsing through him like an addiction as he threw the torn dress aside, a button glinting as it arced through the air. He didn’t much care. Not while she lay beneath him like a siren, the generous handful of her breasts bared to him and her nipples puckering under his gaze. He wanted her completely naked, yet somehow her cream thong showcased her gorgeous body to perfection. “I’ll buy you a dozen more of the same dress.”
He kissed her again, taking control of her mouth, her body. Pushing his fingers through her hair and taking her inexorably toward that special place she needed to be.
A knock on the door followed by an announcement of their luggage had him reluctantly pull away. “Don’t move,” he commanded hoarsely, before he pulled the door open a crack and thrust the porter a tip from his wallet.
Dumping the bags inside, he snapped the door shut once again and prowled toward her. God, she was beautiful. She could be a Victoria’s Secret model in a sexy, underwear photo shoot—minus the bra. Except she was ten times hotter and far more fascinating. Not to mention totally aroused.
He stilled at the edge of the bed and looked down at her. Heaven help him, he didn’t just want to get inside her body, he wanted to get inside her head and uncover everything.
She blinked and smiled up at him with her passion-plump lips. His dick strained behind his jeans even before he bent and slid her thong to one side, exposing her gorgeous pussy. He touched the sensitive flesh inside her labia, and she jerked against his hand, needing so much more.
He swallowed. Hard. His willpower was already worn to a thread, and he didn’t want to think about it snapping anytime soon. He was too lost in the moment. Too busy watching her expression and drinking in her every emotion.
She writhed under him as his forefinger circled a path around her sensitive spot. He didn’t touch her clit; he wanted her panting and insane with need first, wanted a climax to grab her by the throat with its intensity, and be so all-consuming that nothing penetrated her utter bliss.
“I need you inside me,” she whimpered. “I need you now.”
Holy shit. His willpower frayed to the point of no return as she pulled off her thong and unclipped her bra. He swore softly, before he unzipped his jeans to release his dick.
Her eyes widened at seeing him commando once again. He shook his head. “You should know by now I never wear anything under my jeans,” he rasped, before he pulled her to the edge of the bed. He stepped between her thighs. She wrapped her legs around his hips, her pretty pink cunt shining with need.
He didn’t need to ask her if she was ready for him, she was dripping wet and as desperate as he was for him to sink deep into her heat. He thrust into her, filling her, stretching her inner flesh, which molded around his shaft.
He groaned. Nothing could possibly feel this fucking good. He retreated and then plunged deep, taking up a rhythm that had her tits bouncing in time to his strokes and her moans increasing in volume. His balls tightened. Shit. He wasn’t going to last. He thumbed her clit and pushed her straight into climax.
She shrieked as she came, and he poured himself into her with a satisfied groan, his heart and soul singing with pleasure.
*
Claire smiled up at Mackenzie, aware things really had changed between them. Whatever barriers she’d erected no longer seemed necessary. She had nothing to hide from him, had nothing to fear. He was everything and so much more than she wanted in a man.
Not only was he amazing in bed and gave her mind-blowing orgasms, he was sensitive to her needs. Oh, he was tough and uncompromising—he wouldn’t have gone so far professionally if he wasn’t—but on a personal level he’d given all of himself to her, put his heart on the line to show her exactly how much he loved her.
Her legs fell from his like loose spaghetti as he disengaged. She sighed happily. It really was time she returned the favor and told him her true feelings. “Mack,” she whispered, her heart beating double-time. “There’s something I need to tell you.”
“Yes?”
Her smile faded at his one-worded emotional retreat, her chest aching for the man who believed she was breaking bad news. “I love you.”
He froze, his features settling into shock, before softening with adoration. “I love you too.” He shook his head, his lips curling with delight. “I’d despaired that I’d never hear you say those words.”
Her heart swelled and her vision misted. “I never thought I’d say those words either,” she said softly. Hell, she never thought in a million years she’d get her own happily ever after.
He bent, kissing her softly, before he lifted her against his chest and carried her effortlessly into a spacious bathroom. “A shower first,” he said huskily, “then we’ll talk about this some more.”
Half an hour later, thoroughly soaped and clean thanks to Mackenzie’s tender ministrations, she stood outside with him on their suite’s wraparound patio. The night was velvet soft, with thousands of lights sparkling like diamonds in the darkness.
He sighed softly, and she looked up at him and asked, “What’s wrong?”
He turned to her and even in the shadows she c
ould see the gleam in his eyes. He lifted a hand and touched one side of her face. She leaned into him, so content it was almost a crime.
“Claire, I’ve never been happier.”
“Me neither,” she admitted softly.
He stepped behind her, his arms going around her waist and his chin resting on her scalp. “All those lights out there, all those people, and yet I somehow find my soulmate.”
She closed her eyes, her acceptance of him complete. Mackenzie had always been the one man for her, she’d just been too busy fighting her feelings, too scared to admit that maybe he was the one man in her life who wouldn’t walk away. Wouldn’t abandon her for someone else.
“I really do love you,” she said, needing to tell him again. Needing him to hear it.
His clasp tightened, powerful feelings rolling off him in waves and shrouding her with love. “I know you do,” he said huskily. “And just so you know … you’re the love of my life. The only woman I’ve ever wanted now and in the future.”
She put her hands over his. He mightn’t have proposed marriage, but it was close to the real thing. He was committing to her, letting her know he’d be faithful to her.
She’d be a fool to imagine he wouldn’t expect the same in return. She turned in his arms and looked up at him. “I don’t want to be with anyone else either.” One of his hands moved to gently massage her bared back, thanks to her low-cut negligee. “I’m ready to leave my profession and be with you.”
If she was being honest, she’d been ready to leave for months … ever since Mackenzie had bought a night of her time. He’d turned her world upside down, made her yearn for things she’d thought were out of her reach.
“You really mean that?” he asked, the uncertainty that almost broke his voice close to breaking her heart.
“More than anything.”
His thumb traced her soft skin. “Let’s go to bed,” he said silkily, “I need to hold you tight, and never let you go again.”