Bad Boys After Dark: Carson (Bad Billionaires After Dark Book 3)

by Melissa Foster

  “I came to see you, actually,” she finally answered.

  “Me?” Christ. How long had he waited to hear those words? He stepped closer, his body thrumming with heat and hope. But goddamn, Carson didn’t mess around with married women. Not even her. He forced himself to lean back on his heels, keeping a modicum of space between them.

  “Yeah,” she said with a whisper of a laugh. Another adorable nervous habit. “I heard about the fundraiser, and…” She shrugged. Her gaze skittered away for a beat, and when she looked at him again, the air around them ignited. “I miss you, Carson.”

  Aw, fuck. How was he supposed to resist her? “Tabs…? What’s going on?”

  She pressed her lips together, a flush rising on her cheeks, and she looked away again.

  He respected her marriage. Her husband had been a good guy in college, even if a bit of a bore. But if he hurt her, all bets were off, and he’d have Carson to deal with. “Is everything all right with Keith?”

  “Keith?” Her brow wrinkled in confusion. “Yes. Fine. We’ve been divorced for almost two years. But you probably know that, being one of the world’s most renowned security experts. I’d imagine there’s not much about me you don’t know.”

  Carson uncovered things about people they thought they’d buried forever. But after Tawny had gotten married, he’d allowed himself to delve into her personal life only once. Seeing her with her husband had been enough to keep him from ever doing it again. Now his emotions soared. If he’d known she’d gotten divorced, he would have been on her doorstep the next day.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t know about your divorce.” But I’m glad I do now. He took another step closer, noticing the darkening of her eyes. “I haven’t looked you up since a short while after you were married.”

  “You…Really?” she asked softly.

  “Yes.”

  “I never looked you up, either. Well, I poked around online once or twice, but that was a long time ago. I couldn’t…” Her voice trailed off, and she quickly added, “I was just too busy.”

  Yeah, busy. You go with that, sweetheart. Go with whatever you need to feel better, because you’re here now, and you’re divorced, and I’m one hell of a lucky bastard. “Let’s go someplace where we can talk.”

  “I need to find a hotel. This one is booked.” She waved a piece of paper.

  “Stay with me,” came out before he could think, but he didn’t regret it. The woman he’d loved for his entire adult life was finally within reach, and he wasn’t about to let her go. This was his chance to figure out why he’d lost her, get to know her again, and make things right.

  Uncertainty rose in her eyes.

  “Come on, Tabs. You said you missed me. What better way to get reacquainted than hanging out like old times?” He slid a hand to the base of her neck, brushing his thumb over her cheek. Her breathing hitched, and he could see, and feel, it all right there beneath the veil of trepidation—passion and greed, vulnerability and sweetness.

  “Carson,” she whispered.

  He’d heard that plea in his dreams so often, he was this close to lowering his lips to hers, reassuring her that he would keep her safe and make her happy. But just because she missed him didn’t mean she was ready for him.

  “I’ve got every episode of X-Files and Firefly and all your favorite sci-fi movies,” he urged.

  That sweet, sexy laugh slipped out again. He took her luggage from her hand and wrapped one hand around her waist, tugging her tight against him, making the decision for her. “Let’s go, Tabs. You’re staying with me. You can tell me all about how much you missed me.”

  “Carson…”

  Selfishly soaking in the feel of her in his arms again, he said, “If you think I’m going to let you stay at a hotel, you’re wrong. My place, Tabs. We just have to make one stop on the way.”

  “For what?”

  “Junior Mints.”

  She laughed again, and his whole world seemed brighter. Damn, he’d missed her.

  “Fine,” she said. “But don’t think I’m joining your harem. I came to see you, not sleep with you.”

  Ouch. Yeah, he’d had a harem back in college, but not by his doing. He’d never chased women. “How long are you in town?”

  “Four days. Five nights.”

  He hauled her closer and gazed into her eyes. “I promise you, Tawny Bish—Klein—”

  “Bishop. I went back to my maiden name.”

  That probably shouldn’t make him feel good, but hell, she was Tawny Bishop once again. “I promise you, Tawny Bishop, I will not ask you to do anything you don’t want to do.”

  “I know,” she said a little breathlessly.

  “I also promise you, when five nights pass, you won’t want to get out of my bed.”

  She was quiet for a pensive second before saying, “Same old Carson.”

  “Not even close.”

  Chapter Two

  TAWNY COULD COUNT on one hand the number of things in her life that had come easily. Anything academic was a given. She’d been blessed with genes from her MENSA-worthy father, who had been a chemist, and her mother, a biologist whom she’d lost before she was old enough to really know her. It was Tawny’s academic prowess that had first connected her to Carson. They’d partnered for a lab, and she’d been sure he was a jocky, cocky twerp—until he’d opened his mouth and she’d learned that while he might have the hard body typical of athletes, he was beyond brilliant. As for cocky, well, he hadn’t been in-your-face arrogant, but he could bring a woman to her knees with one heated glance, and that had been enough to set off her alarm bells. Her ability to discern bullshit from truth was another thing that had come easily from a very young age, which had immediately affected the third and final thing that had come without effort.

  Her friendship with Carson.

  He had immediately quelled those alarm bells with his careful, thoughtful nature, and their friendship had come as naturally as walking or talking. Carson’s eye contact, his inquisitive nature, and his blatant answers, even when they could have used tempering, had instantly endeared him to her. She’d double majored in chemistry and computer science, giving them plenty to talk about. His love of science fiction had been icing on the cake. Now, as she sat beside him in the back of the dark sedan, shielded from his driver’s view by tinted glass, his intoxicating scent incited seductive memories, spreading heat like wildfire through her body. His eyes never left hers. Except when the driver, whom Carson called Barton, stopped for Carson to purchase Junior Mints. He’d always been a man of his word.

  She wasn’t surprised he had a driver, with his career and his need for privacy. But the sparks still sizzling between them were surprising, even though some part of her had hoped—assumed?—their relationship would feel as right as it always had. Now another part of her was scared shitless. What if she couldn’t handle it again?

  Isn’t that why I’m here? To figure this out?

  When five nights pass, you won’t want to get out of my bed.

  She’d played off his comment as if it were an old joke between them, but they both knew he’d never said anything like that to her before. Not even close, which was why her heart was racing. He’d spoken with such confidence and finality. She thought she’d been prepared for anything, but she suddenly felt vulnerable, unable to decipher whether he meant what he said, or if this was one of his sexual games. His arm was stretched behind her, his fingers playing with the ends of her hair. While it was a familiar thing he’d done when they were younger, things had definitely changed. This was anything but easy. It was combustible.

  She swallowed hard. Maybe this is a little too much like old times. Their connection was electric. Visceral. She definitely hadn’t blown that out of proportion. Am I setting myself up for more heartache? Was this going to be just like college all over again—she’d fall for Carson while he played around with a host of other women?

  He pushed his hand to the base of her neck, rubbing the knots that had been th
ere since she’d first seen the flyer for the fundraiser. She closed her eyes, enjoying his touch. It had been years since she’d been touched by a man, and no one had ever touched her in the way, sexual or platonic, that Carson did. Trust had never been an issue between them. The foundation of trust they’d built helped push her worries away.

  “That feels incredible.”

  “You always did carry your stress in your neck.”

  The seductive way he said it reminded her of how he’d soothed the lingering aches from her neck and shoulders after he’d bound her to the bed. She’d melted beneath his touch then, just as she was doing now.

  “You remember?” She opened her eyes and found him watching her even more intently than before.

  “I haven’t forgotten a thing, Tabs.” He ran his finger along the edge of her jaw. “Not one second of the time we spent together.”

  He leaned closer, and she fought against her body’s natural inclination to meet him halfway. Tell me you want my mouth.

  “Close your eyes, Tabs. Relax.”

  She closed her eyes, comforted by his taking control even though he hadn’t asked for what she wanted. This was better. Smarter.

  “Tell me about your divorce. Was it amicable? Or do I have to track down Keith and make him disappear?”

  She smiled, eyes still closed, his hand working its magic on her tension. “It was friendly. We weren’t in love, at least not the way married couples should be.” He was safe. But he wasn’t you. “We’re still friends.”

  “I’m sorry you weren’t happy, but I’m glad it didn’t end painfully.”

  He leaned closer, his breath warming her skin, drenching her in the scent of rum. Dark rum. Sweet and spicy, with hints of sugarcane, molasses, and charred oak. Oh, what she’d give to taste it on him, to feel the hard press of his lips, his tongue sliding over hers as he took the kiss deeper, until he possessed all of her. She opened her eyes, and he was right there, close enough to fulfill her every wish.

  The car pulled to the side of the road, and the edges of Carson’s lips tipped up, as if he knew exactly what she’d been thinking. She was sure he did, which made her even more nervous.

  “I’ve missed you, too, Tabs,” he said as Barton opened the car door and cold air rushed over her legs. “Let’s get you inside.”

  Carson stepped out and helped her from the car, his hand resting on her back as he guided her under his umbrella, which seemed to appear out of nowhere.

  Barton carried her bag to the porch and drove away as stealthily as a ninja. Carson tucked her against him as they hurried up the brick steps of his Gramercy Park home. Ornate iron railings and brick columns framed an inviting front porch. He set the umbrella against the brick wall and pushed a code into a keypad by the door. The sound of a lock unlatching competed with the thump of her rampant heartbeat. His hand moved lower, his long fingers pressing against the base of her spine as he pushed the door open.

  His alluring scent wafted out of his home like an embrace. She noted the strength of his hand, and his commanding presence, as they stepped inside, and he set her bags in the high-ceilinged foyer. She inhaled deeply, taking in the expansive living room off to the right. Sleek-lined and tufted black leather sofas were complemented by a white marble coffee table. A stately and elegant fireplace was centered along the far wall, flanked by built-in bookshelves, and beside them, black-and-white artwork that looked like it cost a fortune. His style hadn’t changed much. He’d always preferred clean, smooth lines, though his furniture in college hadn’t been nearly as expensive. She wondered for the first time if her affinity for the same was born from their friendship or if she’d developed it before they’d met. She could barely remember her life before Carson, and she wondered if he was as nervous as she was. Some people emitted unpleasant odors when they were nervous, and others simply smelled a little different. Tawny had never been able to smell Carson’s nerves. He was the most even-keeled, controlled person she knew.

  Except when they’d roll the dice to see who got to take sexual control and he’d lost, handing the reins over to her. She’d gotten a taste of what it was like to take and demand, and he’d gotten a dose of vulnerability. She shuddered with the illicit memories.

  “Cold?” Carson asked as he removed her coat and hung it in a closet behind him.

  “A little.” But that’s not why I shuddered.

  He pulled out his phone, scrolling and tapping, then slipped it back into his pocket. She heard the lock mechanisms in the door again, and a fire whooshed to life in the fireplace. His gaze moved hungrily down her body, leaving a trail of goose bumps in its wake. He pressed his large, rough hands to her upper arms, moving them from shoulder to elbow and back up again, warming and exciting her at once. When he reached her shoulders, he touched the leather accent on the capped sleeves of her dress.

  “Leather. Nice touch.” His eyes darkened.

  “I thought you might like it.” She’d picked out the dress with him in mind after she’d first gotten divorced, but it had taken her two years to get up the courage to come see him.

  He squeezed her shoulders the way he used to when he’d strip her bare. How had she gone so many years without him? Without his touch? His voice? His intimate knowledge of her?

  “I would like you in rags, Tabs.”

  She knew how true that was. She had never been the type of girl to wear cute little skirts and sandals or plunging necklines. That hadn’t come until she was older, trying to entice her husband into sexier thoughts. A futile endeavor, and a painful one for her. It was no wonder she couldn’t lure Keith into something more. He’d always known it was Carson she wanted.

  “Well, that’s about all I wore in college, so…”

  “No one filled out jeans and T-shirts the way you did.” His gaze took another stroll down her body. “And that dress…man, Tabs.”

  He led her across the hardwood floors as she soaked in his compliment, and the rest of the living room came into view. It was much more expansive than she’d thought, with another sofa, a leather recliner with a reading light beside it, which made her want to curl up with a good book, and floor-to-ceiling glass doors that opened to a balcony.

  “Can I get you something to drink?” he asked.

  That was a dangerous question, and she knew by the seductiveness of his voice that he was thinking the same thing. He was testing her boundaries, something he was very good at. The silent question—Are we going there tonight?—lingered in his eyes. She hadn’t been a drinker in college, and the one and only time she had given in to his persistent suggestion of attending a party together, it had taken only one drink to lower her defenses enough for her to reach for his hand when the noisy crowd had made her nervous. The second drink had loosened her up enough to dance with him when he dragged her to the middle of the room and began moving in ways she’d seen only in movies. And the third drink, which they’d had in his apartment later that Sunday night, had been enough for her to surrender to her hidden desires—and then some.

  In the years since, she’d honed her ability to have two or three drinks without losing control. A drink was exactly what she needed to fend off her nerves.

  “Yes, please.”

  “MÉNAGE À TROIS?” Carson handed Tawny a glass and sank down on the couch beside her, enjoying the shock flaring in her eyes. He was pleased to find this boundary, as he’d wondered how far she’d taken her passions over the years. “Don’t worry,” he said gently, then firmer, “I’m not into sharing. It’s the name of the drink.”

  Sighing with relief, she took the glass and held it under her nose, breathing it in. He’d always loved watching her take in the scent of everything from books to food. But his favorite thing was when they were close and she’d run her nose over his skin, breathing him in.

  “Mm. Dark rum, triple sec, and cream?”

  “Fascinating. You’ve still got that keen sense of smell.”

  She lifted the glass toward her lips, and as he’d remembered, her
tongue swept across the rim just before she took a drink. He felt the warm glide as if it had slicked over his skin.

  “It’s what I do for a living,” she said, and set her glass on the coffee table. Turning toward him, she curled her legs up on the couch. Her dress inched up her thighs, and he couldn’t help but appreciate the view. “I’m a perfumer, in Paris.”

  She’d only just reappeared and his mind was already sprinting through a list of possible entanglements with her life being so far away. “A perfumer? You did it. When you took that internship with the fragrance company, you said you’d find your way to the top. And Paris? I guess that’s where the magic happens for fragrances?”

  “Yes, but that’s not the only reason why I moved there.” She tucked her hair behind her ear, her gaze falling to the space between them. “Paris was my escape to start over. I moved there about two years ago, after my father passed away.”

  She stretched her arm across the back of the couch and rested her cheek on it, her green eyes finding his once again. His heart sliced right down the middle at the pain in her eyes, the same way it had all those years ago, the night she’d ended their sexual relationship and run out of his apartment. Only this time he could try to ease the pain in a way he’d never been given a chance to back then.

  He hooked his hand beneath her knees, lifting her legs over his as he moved closer. Her father had been her world. She’d called him every week all four years of college, and she’d sent him letters in the mail. He and my mother used to send each other letters. I think it makes him happy to get mail other than bills. And every year on her parents’ anniversary, she and her father would have lunch together at the coffeehouse in Greenwich Village where her parents first met. He couldn’t begin to imagine how alone she must feel.

  She snuggled closer, placing her hand on his stomach and resting her cheek on his arm, underscoring how deep and easy their friendship had been. It was like time hadn’t changed anything at all. But he knew it had. Time had given him a deeper understanding of who he was and what he wanted. And he’d come to understand that what he’d felt for Tawny all those years ago had been love, and even now, years later, that love was still alive.