Beholden (The Beguiling Bachelors Book 2)

by Madison Michael

  “Are you listening, Sloane?” Keeli asked, touching her free arm lightly.

  “I’m sorry, I couldn’t hear you above all the noise,” Sloane lied smoothly.

  “I just suggested you walk with me to go get another drink,” Keeli suggested, leaning closer to Sloane’s ear to be heard and shaking her empty wine glass.

  “Sure, of course,” Sloane responded distractedly. Keeli told her husband where to find them and they had hardly moved away before the two men were deep in conversation.

  “You look fantastic, Sloane. If this dress doesn’t do the trick, I don’t know what will.”

  “I don’t know what you are talking about, Keeli. But thanks.”

  “Sure, Sloane. I’ll play along if you want me to pretend this isn’t all about Randall. But you would do a more believable job if you stopped staring at him.”

  Sloane’s eyes swung to Keeli’s in alarm. “Am I that obvious?”

  “Just forgive the poor bastard. Wyatt says he hasn’t had a single drink since the night of the Children’s’ Hospital benefit, that the legal stuff is just a misunderstanding. And he loves you, Sloane.”

  “Do you really think so? Has he said anything?” Sloane heard the hope in the pitch of her voice, giving her away.

  “Do you hear us?” Keeli was laughing. “We sound like school girls. Will you pass him a note and ask him if he likes me?’”

  Sloane laughed, her first sincere emotion of the night. At that exact moment, she felt another enormous hand on her back, sending tingles to her fingers and toes.

  How could I have mistaken Wyatt’s hand for Randall’s? These long elegant fingers get a reaction from me every time.

  Schooling her features, ignoring the feel of her blood coursing through her body, Sloane turned to face Randall.

  “Mr. Parker, how lovely to see you,” she said formally.

  “Ms. Huyler, you are looking exquisite this evening, as always,” he responded in kind. “I understand that congratulations are in order. Keeli tells me that you have joined her company as President. A great solution for you both.”

  With that, Randall leaned in to give Keeli a chaste kiss on the cheek. He did not do the same for Sloane and she felt bereft. If he cared about her, he hid it well. He was behaving like a stranger, or a nodding acquaintance. Nothing more.

  “Come say hello to everyone,” he suggested to them. Sloane wondered if the statement was addressed at her or Keeli. She was unable to tell.

  “Sure,” Keeli responded for them both, taking Sloane’s hand.

  “But, Edward…”

  “He’s fine. He’s with Wyatt. They know where to find us.” Keeli pulled Sloane’s arm gently and moved her toward the small circle of friends chatting together.

  “Look who I found,” Randall announced to no one in particular.

  They quickly were absorbed into their regular crowd - Regan and Tyler, Alex and Charlotte Roche (He’s with Charlotte?), Missy and Stephen.

  “May I present Alyssa Moore? Alyssa, this is Sloane, an old family friend.”

  An old family friend? Why that sniveling, dirt-eating, slime bag. How dare he?

  “How nice to meet you, Alyssa,” Sloane extended her long hand to shake Alyssa’s. “And what a beautiful dress you are wearing. Is that de la Renta?”

  “You have a good eye, Sloane. Isn’t it beautiful?” Alyssa did a half-pirouette, showing off the dress. The two women chatted comfortably about clothes and the event. Sloane quickly learned that Alyssa had indeed gone to school with Randall, but at Duke, not Northwestern. They went way back, Alyssa had stressed before explaining that she had recently relocated to Chicago for her work. She was a reporter and Sloane peppered her with questions about the assignments, reassured that her own situation was not on the reporter’s radar. Sloane asked how she liked the city, had she been here yet or there.

  Take that you pig! I can stay just as cool and aloof as you can. I can charm the pants off this little girlfriend of yours.

  Sloane was gratified to learn that Alyssa had seen little of the city yet. Perhaps because Randall had not been showing it to her? With all the aplomb she could muster, she turned to Randall.

  “Alyssa tells me she hasn’t even been to a sporting event here. Not hockey, not the Bulls. Randall, you are falling down on the job. Take the poor girl to see the sights.”

  The conversation had no time to digress into a fistfight since Wyatt and Edward joined them at that moment, deflecting the sparks poised to fly. Edward placed his hand on the bare skin of Sloane’s lower back and suggested they find their table for dinner.

  “Too bad Sloane didn’t turn around,” Keeli whispered to Regan as the couple moved away. ”She would have loved seeing the steam coming from Randall’s ears.” The two women laughed, catching Tyler’s attention.

  “What are you two plotting?”

  “Us? Whatever could you mean?”

  “Oh no, Regan, you do not fool me. After all these years, I know when you are scheming, and you two are definitely scheming. I suggest you stay out of this. They will figure it out if they are supposed to.”

  “Come on, Ty. We all know they belong together. A year ago I would have said let the bitch rot in hell, but it turns out Sloane is funny, sassy and under all that armor, sweet. I want her to be happy.” Keeli nodded in agreement and Tyler knew he was defeated.

  “What are you guys whispering about?” Randall asked.

  “Just work stuff,” Keeli answered quickly. The three stood watching Randall who was staring longingly at Sloane as she glided away with another man’s hand caressing her bare skin.

  Alyssa came to take his arm and when he didn’t move of his own volition, dragged him to go in search of their table.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  Randall was barely holding it together. If he saw that slimy politician touch Sloane’s perfect skin one more time he would not be responsible for his actions. For the last hour, he had been reminding himself to unclench both his jaw and his fists. He was completely unaware of anything that was being said around the table. He had no idea what he was eating.

  This is just plain torture. The woman is torturing me.

  As the coffee was poured, the magicians and clowns began circulating the room again and the band began playing dance tunes. Wyatt immediately asked Keeli to dance and they slipped away. Randall sat drinking the rich brew and brooding.

  “This is surprisingly good coffee for such a big event,” Alyssa commented.

  “Mmm,” Randall responded, watching Sloane take the dance floor in Edward’s arms.

  Was the man running his hands up and down her body? Did he just touch her ass? Couldn’t he show some damn respect? I’m going to kill him. Five more minutes and I will be wanted for murder.

  “Mmm.” Randall responded again to something Alyssa said before she took his arm and shook it.

  “What? What did I do?”

  “I just told you I was planning to strip naked and jump off the building.”

  “Ha, very funny. What did you really say? I admit it. I wasn’t listening.”

  “I said I was planning to strip naked and jump off the building. Seriously, that is what I said. Just give up Randall and go get her.”

  “Her? What her? I don’t know what you mean.”

  “Randall,” Alyssa explained to him as if he were dense, “I am an investigative reporter, remember? If I can’t figure out that you are at least lusting after Sloane Huyler, and more likely deeply in love with her, they should fire my ass.”

  “That obvious?” Randall asked, dejected.

  “If it makes you feel any better,” Alyssa offered, “she might have it even worse for you.”

  Randall sat up like a puppy being offered a treat. “Really? You really think so?”

  “I know so. Go get her, tiger. I will catch a ride home.”

  Randall planted a huge kiss on Alyssa’s mouth. “You were always the best friend a guy could have. I’ll call you soon.”

 
; Without another thought for Alyssa, Randall was out of his chair and striding across the dance floor. It was so easy to spot Sloane despite the huge crowds. Between her height and that red dress, or what there was of it, he couldn’t miss her. Nor could he stop staring at her. She was a vision tonight - more beautiful than he remembered.

  Maybe absence really does make the heart grow fonder.

  He moved toward her like metal to a magnet. In seconds, he was standing behind Edward, tapping him on the shoulder. Randall could see the man was startled by the interruption. They were standing eye-to-eye, similar in height although Randall was definitely broader in the shoulders and chest.

  I can take him down if I need to. Whoa, down boy.

  “May I cut in?” he asked instead of throwing a much-desired uppercut to the chin.

  “Uhh,” Randall watched as Edward battled with himself. The proper thing was to be polite but he clearly preferred to keep holding Sloane in his arms. Randall couldn’t blame him, even felt sorry for the guy. He could put himself in Edward’s shoes and Randall knew that if it were he dancing with Sloane, he wouldn’t stop. In fact, once he had hold of Sloane, he was not letting go. Edward was done for the night.

  “Sure, of course,” Edward finally stumbled over his words, realizing that he had hesitated a moment or two longer than was polite.

  “Thanks, Eddie,” Randall said, slapping him on the back like they were at a sporting event. “You are a stand-up guy. Have a good night.”

  Leaving Edward annoyed by the nickname and wondering what that last statement might mean, Randall twirled Sloane into the crowd and away from her date. He was holding her too close, too tight. He knew it, but he just couldn’t let up. Her skin felt like satin under his fingers, her body molded to his perfectly. He leaned into her. She smelled of an expensive floral fragrance that touched a chord in his memory.

  “Randall, what are you doing?” Sloane asked, indignant when Randall began planting tiny kisses along her hairline and skimming his hand dangerously low on her back.

  “Making up for lost time.”

  “You are holding me too tightly, I can’t breathe.”

  “I am holding you perfectly, and if you can’t breath, you and I both know why.”

  He twirled her several times so that she was forced to cling to him, using it as an excuse to run his hands even lower down her body and pull her tighter still.

  “Seriously, Randall, you need to let me go,” she pushed at his chest ineffectively.

  “You can do better than that Sloane. If you wanted me to let you go, you could push a lot harder. “ He was baiting her and the both knew it.

  “I am just trying to avoid a scene.”

  “Feeble excuse. Just relax and enjoy the ride, Sloane. I am driving for a while. Let yourself go, please. Just let go.”

  Randall was surprised when she did just that. She relaxed in his arms and they danced in silence until the music ended. When she tried to step away, he took her hand and pulled her toward the door.

  “Randall, my date. Alyssa. You can’t just drag me out of the room. Stop. You need to stop.”

  “I don’t give a damn about your date, Sloane. I am taking you out of the room and out of this whole place. I am taking you home and when we get there, I am going to remove that gorgeous little dress that you have been using to tease me all night and then I am going to make love to you until the sun comes up. Got it?”

  “Uh huh,” she responded, looking dazed by his authoritarian voice. Randall looked at her face and knew the exact moment she figured out that arguing - even if she had wanted to – was futile. “Wait! My coat.”

  Randall removed his tuxedo jacket and wrapped it around Sloane’s bare shoulders. “Leave it. I’ll buy you a new one.”

  He thrust a ticket into the valet’s hand along with a $50 bill. “It's an emergency, hurry please.” His ploy worked. They were seated in the BMW in less than five minutes, the heat on, seat warmers toasting the back of Sloane’s legs and taking away the night-time chill.

  Randall drove like a man possessed until the first stoplight. Coming to a complete stop, he threw the car into park and hauled Sloane’s slight frame across the center console to kiss her roughly and thoroughly. When cars started honking, he released her reluctantly and she sat back stunned. Her face was already pink from his beard and her lips were bruised from his kiss. She looked perfect.

  And the night is just beginning.

  “You’re very quiet,” he said as he maneuvered through traffic.

  “I don’t know what to say. I have never been hauled from a black tie event by a Neanderthal before.” She flashed him a beautiful, bewildered smile in the passing glow of the streetlights, removing any sting from her words.

  “Well then, I guess you better get used to it because this Neanderthal has absolutely no intention of letting you go.”

  “Promise?” Was she being coy?

  “Oh, honey, do I ever.”

  Randall ran his hand up her arm, reaching under the jacket wrapped about her shoulders. Her skin was chilly, but he did not suggest she put her arms through the jacket. He loved the feel of her skin. After driving another few blocks, he took her hand, kissed the back of it and then her palm.

  “Put the jacket on, Sloane. You’ll be warmer,” he finally suggested.

  “I’m fine,” she shook her head. “Just get me home.”

  Randall was happy to oblige and since his place was closer, he pulled into the parking garage and screeched to a halt in his parking space. Planting a quick, firm kiss on her lips, he said, “let’s go” and jumped from the car. Sloane needed an extra minute to manage the long dress, but he was swiftly by her side, almost dragging her to the elevator.

  He punched the button repeatedly, anxiously. She laughed at his impatience. The doors opened and he stepped back, allowing her to precede him, whisking his jacket from her shoulders as she passed and pushing her up against the cool wall.

  “Cold,” she noted with a small shock.

  “I’ll fix that.”

  He sandwiched her between the wall and his rock solid body, grinding his lower body against hers, leaving her in no doubt of his desire. His long hands moved down tugging at her dress and lifting it, followed by the strong stroking of his hand, higher and higher up her leg. Sadly, or luckily, it was just one flight from the underground garage to the townhouse’s main floor entry. Still, Sloane’s dress was lifted almost around her waist and his fingers were firmly nestled between her legs.

  “Warmer now?” Taking her mouth, he didn’t wait for an answer.

  Randall loved the little sounds coming from her throat, turning him on uncontrollably. She had been groping at the front of his pants - ineffectual movements for getting his clothes off but very efficient if she wanted him to explode. In keeping with her Neanderthal comment, he removed his hand from her panties and lifted her over his shoulder, her head hanging down his back, her slender legs completely exposed.

  He placed his hand on her butt to hold her in place, but then started rubbing the soft curves, loving the feel of her, sliding the little sliver of her thong panties lower each time he circled. With his other hand he reached into his pocket, extracted the keys, unlocked and kicked open the door.

  “Randall, put me down.”

  “In a minute, Sloane.”

  Randall’s long legs quickly covered the distance to the living room where he placed her on her feet next to the sofa. He slid one finger under the tiny strap of her dress where it rested on her right shoulder, repeated it with his other pinky on her left shoulder.

  “I have been waiting to do this since you walked into the benefit tonight.” Lifting his fingers slightly, barely skimming them across her shoulders the dress lifted from her body and dropped in a pool by her feet. She stood before him in a strapless bra and a tiny scrap of red material half on and half off her behind.

  With one hand, Randall undid the bra easily, while with the other he slid the panties the rest of the way down he
r legs. He told her to step out of them and lay back on the sofa.

  Thank god, for once her life, Sloane did as she was told.

  “Randall, wait, we should talk. We need to talk,” Sloane suggested, trying to slow things down.

  “Later, Sloane. There will be plenty of time for talk later. Right now, I think I might die if I am not inside you. I promise we will both feel better in less than one minute. Please, no talking.”

  Randall was yanking his tie loose, ripping at the studs on the front of his tuxedo shirt and soon, clothes strewn everywhere, he stood before Sloane as naked as she was. Pushing her gently on the sofa he stood between her spread legs, wrapped his long fingers around the inside of each thigh and pulled her closer toward him. Sloane slipped lower on the leather sofa, her hips rose and –true to his promise – he sank deep into her body, a sigh of satisfaction escaping his lips.

  Randall had his hand under Sloane now, and after a moment to savor the feeling of her tight around him, he began gripping her against him, setting a hard-driving pace. Sloane put her hands hard against the sofa cushion to get the traction she needed to rock her hips hard against Randall, meeting him thrust for thrust.

  “God you feel so good, so hot and tight,” Randall told her before bending over her face and demanding her mouth with a scorching kiss. He circled Sloane’s tongue and sucked it into his mouth, bruising her lips with the power of his kiss, scratching her chin against his beard, claiming every inch of her.

  Randall felt Sloane responding like a flower opening to him and he slowed down to enjoy himself longer, to pleasure her longer. She groaned when he held still and tried to slide herself against him when he refused to move. Surprising her, he wrapped her legs tight around his firm ass, told her to hold on, and lifted her from the couch. Once he had repositioned her so she was lying flat along the length of the sofa, he came down on the full length of her, sinking deep, gasping for breath as he felt her shatter around him. He loved the feel of her letting go, her body squeezing him, pulsing around his shaft while she shivered and shuddered her release. The look of ecstasy on her face was magnificent.