But she felt wonderful. And happy. So very happy.
The jewelry store at Lenox Square was a bit intimidating. The upscale mall boasted all the high-end store names, and Le Croix was as snooty as any of them. It wasn’t until Tanner whispered in the salesclerk’s ear that things changed. Apparently the baubles in the well-lit cases weren’t what Tanner had in mind. Soon, the now-obsequious saleslady had returned with a tray she brought from the safe in the back.
Nola’s eyes widened when she saw the two dozen choices. Every one of the rings shot fire beneath the store lights. It was a smorgasbord of overindulgence.
She managed to whisper in Tanner’s ear, “Aren’t these over-the-top? You don’t have to do this.”
“Do what?”
“Try to impress me. Something smaller would do.”
“Don’t you like the rings?”
“Well, of course,” she huffed. “But I like a lot of things. Doesn’t mean I have to have them.”
He brushed her cheek with his thumb. “Quit worrying. I can assure you my bank account can take the hit. I’m a single guy with simple tastes. Except when it comes to you. You’re the most reckless thing I’ve ever done. So humor me.”
The clerk hovered while Nola finished trying on the exquisite jewelry. But in the end, the choice was clear. Tanner picked up the one she’d looked at three times. “We’ll take this diamond.” He slid it on Nola’s finger, and her heart lurched. A ring made things very real.
The center stone was an emerald cut of at least two carats . . . and the two flanking stones were almost as large. Nola adored it. But not as much as she adored the complicated, wonderfully interesting man who had agreed to be her husband.
Before they left, they picked out wedding rings . . . an extremely simple band for Nola, and an equally simple but much larger band for Tanner. He paid for all of it, and they left the store. Nola couldn’t stop looking at the ring on her left hand. An engagement ring . . . a precursor to marriage. Suddenly she felt faint.
Tanner wasn’t finished. He insisted they go to a bridal salon and pick out a gown.
Nola tried to demur. “Not for the courthouse, Tanner. I’d feel silly.”
He grabbed her in a bear hug, and her feet left the floor. “We’re getting married in a church, my love. The whole nine yards. So I’m giving you exactly one hour to do this . . . unless you want my help.”
She shook her head. “Oh, no. You can’t see me in my wedding dress. I may not be superstitious about most things, but even I’m not brave enough to test that one.” She paused as a thought occurred to her. “I don’t know if you can rent a tux in Resnick.”
He tweaked her chin. “I own one,” he said carelessly.
Her shock must have shown, because he laughed. “Your friend Marc isn’t the only one who can do suave and sophisticated. I also know which fork to use and how to order from a menu in French.”
He said it jokingly, but she wondered how threatened he felt by Marc. She kissed him quickly, her thoughts flitting ahead to lace and veils and trains. “I already know you’re a man with many facets. And I’m suitably in awe of all of them.”
With that flip comment, she abandoned him to enter wedding mecca. Glory hallelujah. It was like a little girl’s ultimate dress-up fantasy. The salesclerk with the big smile commandeered a fitting room and urged Nola to pick at least ten gowns to start with.
Nola waded into the rack of tulle and froth and started looking.
If she’d ever thought about what her ideal wedding dress would look like, she couldn’t remember it. Some girls dreamed of their perfect day, kept binders and journals, clipped photos. . . .
Nola honestly didn’t think that had ever been her MO. But when she laid eyes on one dress and imagined herself wearing it for Tanner, she was as sentimental as any bride-to-be had ever been. The dress was perfect, though not conventional at all.
She chose a slender column of ivory satin. It had only one shoulder. The bodice wrapped around and accentuated her breasts, and the fitted waist made her look tiny.
The skirt hugged her hips and legs as if she were a film siren, and just above her ankles the whole concoction fanned out in soft, fluid waves. There was not a single bit of ornamentation, but the fabric and the design made a stunning statement.
Nola’s throat tightened as she realized how very badly she wanted Tally and Krystal to be at her wedding. But she would be damned if she would put anyone else she loved in the line of fire. Someone wanted to kill her. And she would never deliberately expose her two closest friends to danger.
As the saleslady rang up the purchase, Nola stared at her ring. Holy Hannah. She was engaged. . . .
It was almost enough to make her forget that someone wanted her dead.
Tanner returned five minutes early, but she was waiting for him. He pretended to peek into the large, bulky box. “The suspense is killing me,” he complained.
Nola took his hand and grinned as they walked off down the mall. “Good thing this is a quickie marriage, then.”
The hotel was plush, the staff pleasant and unobtrusive. The bell-man had scarcely left the room when Tanner shut the drapes and faced her. “Take off everything but the ring,” he said, his voice gruff.
The look on his face made her shiver . . . in a good way. She tried not to make it too easy for him. “Shouldn’t we be getting ready for dinner?”
He took a step in her direction. “Room service . . . later.”
She stripped off her skirt and blouse and kicked off her sandals. Her bra-and-panty set merited an approving stare from Tanner, but he waved an impatient hand. “Keep going.”
She stepped out of her undies and curled her arms protectively across her breasts. Then she watched, quivering, as he went to the door and hung out the Do Not Disturb sign.
The room was chilly. She had goose bumps. At least, she did until Tanner sat down in an easy chair and crooked a finger. “Come here, Nola. I’m in the mood to play. How ’bout you?”
“Play?” She repeated the word slowly, studying his face. His body language seemed calm. But his eyes were burning.
She obeyed his summons slowly, trying to anticipate his mood.
He took her wrists when she was close enough and kissed the inside of each one, taking the time to run his tongue from there up her forearm to the crook of her elbow.
Her knees wobbled. She was so hungry for him, she wanted to tear off his clothes and get things started.
But apparently, play had another definition in Tanner’s book. He reached behind her and cupped her ass. Which put his talented mouth even with her belly. He tongued her navel as he squeezed her butt. She bowed her head and groaned.
Tanner muttered something.
“What did you say?”
He raised his head, his face flushed. “I’m doing you a big favor, right?”
She laughed softly. “You could look at it that way.”
“So I think I deserve one day of having you as my sex slave.”
Her eyes narrowed, even as her sex swelled further. “How do you figure?”
He brushed a finger between her ass cheeks. “You got an engagement ring. We can call this my engagement present.”
“Pretty sure of yourself, aren’t you?”
He shrugged. “I play to my strengths. No harm in that.”
“And if I refuse?” Fat chance, but she wanted to hear his answer.
“Then I lock you in here for a month and force you to service me.”
It was a silly statement, an opening salvo in their erotic game, but it nearly brought her to her knees, so vivid was her mental picture.
She licked her lips and cleared her throat. “In that case . . . consider me at your service.”
Sixteen
Tanner’s hands clenched on the arms of his chair, and she saw a flash of naked need on his face before he masked his expression. “Start with my shoes.” He added a note of insolence to his voice that set Nola’s heart racing.
She kne
lt and removed his shoes and socks.
He barked out another command: “Get a washcloth and rub my feet.” This was probably a ploy so he could watch her walk naked across the room, and she obeyed, feeling his gaze boring into her back.
She paused for a moment in the bathroom and looked into the mirror. Her nipples were hard and tight, her face flushed, her eyes bright. She touched herself between her legs and found abundant moisture. The strength of her desire for Tanner Nash was deep, compelling, exciting.
She wet a washcloth and returned to the other room. Tanner sat sprawled in the chair with his eyes closed. She studied him unobserved and felt her heart flip hard in her chest.
She went to her knees in front of him. The carpet must have muffled the sound of her return, because he jerked in surprise when she touched his feet. She rubbed the rag over each one and tossed it aside.
He stared down at her, his lids heavy over those beautiful eyes. “Take off my pants.” He lifted his hips, but did nothing else to assist her. She dragged his trousers and boxers down and off in silence, awaiting his next instruction.
His voice was gravelly. “Now the shirt.”
She reached for his buttons, but he held out his hand to stop her. “Do it with your mouth.”
She froze. This was serious foreplay. Her stomach quivered, and her breath came faster. But she obeyed. Bracing her hands on the arms of the chair, she bent over him and went for the first button. She took the placket of the shirt between her teeth and tried to drag it up and around the tiny white disk. It took her three tries.
Tanner was silent and still as she labored, but with her face pressed to his chest, she could feel the thunder of his heartbeat.
Thank God he took pity on her, finally, and completed the task. She was hot and frustrated and horny, and the more she had struggled, the more she was inclined to tell him to hell with the game. She wanted him . . . now.
He was warm as well, and the smell of his aftershave rose from his skin and into her nose and went straight to her sex. When his hands came up to fondle her breasts, she froze. A wave of longing swept over her, swelled into her nipples, and arrowed to the needy spot between her thighs.
Her breathing was harsh and ragged, and she almost groaned aloud as the last button finally cooperated. She straightened and stepped back. Tanner sat up, shrugged out of the shirt, and returned to his original position.
He was beautiful. His golden skin was lighter only at his hips where his erection rose hard against his belly. The muscles and sinews in his chest and thighs and arms and legs gave his masculinity an aggressive edge. But she had reason to know that this utterly fit and dominant male also had the capacity for soul-melting tenderness.
His steely gaze met hers. “Bring me a condom.” She stared at him blankly, and then turned blindly to search the room. His suitcase was on a bench at the foot of the bed. He offered no help, verbal or otherwise. She was forced to rummage through his shaving kit until she found a handful of square packets.
In her haste, she dropped most of them on the floor, but she managed to open one and take it to him. She held out her hand. He shook his head. “You have to put it on me.”
Her hands were shaking from nerves and arousal. The first time, she had it backward. She hissed and flipped the latex, then managed to roll it successfully along and over his rigid flesh.
Tanner made a low noise in his throat, but he didn’t move. She wasn’t prepared for his next dictate. “Turn around.” The authority in his voice sent a ripple of anxiety through her. And an equally noticeable buzz of desire. She obeyed in silence.
She felt and sensed him stand up behind her. He put his big hands on either side of her neck. His thumbs toyed with her earrings. She could hear his ragged breathing, feel the heat from his nude body.
Gradually, he ran his hands down over her shoulders and along her arms until he could grasp her wrists and squeeze. After a brief moment, his hands slipped beneath her arms . . . settled below her armpits, and started to glide again. Halfway down, he reached around and palmed her breasts.
His cock was pushing against her, but the biggest distraction was the way he caressed her. Slowly, teasingly.
Finally, he skated south to her waist, then to her hips and ass. He put a hand between her legs from behind and toyed with her moist, swollen sex. Her head fell back against his chest as she sighed. Far below, on the busy Atlanta streets, the muted hum of traffic kept a refrain.
But here in this elegant room, the only sounds were her heartbeat and his, her choked gasps, his murmurs of approval.
After a few moments of blissful torture, he sat back down, pulling her toward him, still facing her away. He made her straddle his knees, and then . . . with one hand on the small of her back pushing her forward, he gripped her hip with his other hand and lowered her onto his cock.
She actually cried out. From this angle, it seemed an impossible fit. He made her lift and lower herself again until the head of his penis was lodged as tightly as it could go against her womb.
She was dizzy, and her knees were weak, but he demanded it all. “Ride me,” he said gruffly. “Make me come.”
Nothing about her pleasure. After all, a sex slave had no rights. She was here to serve him, to do his bidding.
She couldn’t decide what to do with her hands, but he solved that dilemma for her by drawing her arms behind her back and securing her wrists in the grip of one large hand. With his other hand, he grasped her hip. “Ride me, Red. Make us both crazy.”
None of her Pilates or yoga classes had prepared her for this. Her knees screamed in protest as she lifted and lowered her body, screwing herself on his massive prick.
He kept her shoved forward, and the angle was both challenging and pleasurable. She sensed a wildness in him that she’d caught glimpses of before. He released her wrists and tucked her hands behind her neck. “Keep them there.”
Now he could grasp her hips with both hands . . . which he did . . . and then, when even that was not enough, he reached to the front and found her clit. With one pass of his fingers, she exploded, sobbing and screaming. His big hands kept her upright when she would have collapsed to the floor. He pulled her ruthlessly into the cradle of his thighs, surging over and over, filling her up and then cursing and groaning when he came.
The two of them tumbled to the floor in an ungainly heap. She tried in vain to recover her breath in quick gasping searches for air. He was still half on top of her.
He found his voice before she did. “Sweet holy hell.” The stunned amazement in those three short words would have made her smile if she weren’t feeling so gob-smacked herself.
He moved off of her and helped her to her feet. She leaned against him, not at all sure if her legs would support her. “We’re paying a fortune for this room, Tanner. We could actually try out the bed.”
He swung her into his arms. “You read my mind, Red.”
He didn’t bother turning back the bedding. He dumped her unceremoniously in the center of the mattress and took less than thirty seconds to remove the used protection and don a new condom.
Her eyes widened as she realized he was fully erect . . . again. He shrugged with charming arrogance. “What can I say, sweetheart? I can’t get enough of you.”
He dove onto the bed and wedged his hips between her thighs. As he slid inside her, he trapped her hands over her head. “I love you, Nola. You may not believe it yet, but you will. You’ll say it’s too soon, or you’ll think I’m after the house or I’m just trying to pander to a woman’s need for romance. But sooner or later, you’ll see. I need you, I want you, and house or no house, I’m head over heels in love with you.”
He gave her tenderness this time, soft whispers and slow, easy thrusts that built the heat slowly. She lifted a hand to his cheek, feeling the late-day stubble. Everything about him made her chest tight with emotions she had never experienced . . . not with Billy . . . not with Marc . . . and surely not with the handful of other men who had passed
through her life.
She smiled, but her eyes were stinging. “I love you, Tanner Nash. If I hadn’t needed a groom in thirty days, I still would have gone after you. No other man would do.”
He said nothing, but the look in his eyes warmed her. He moved faster. She closed her eyes, linking her arms around his neck. Tanner would keep her safe. Tanner loved her. She caught her breath, saw stars behind her eyelids, and sailed, weightless, into searing pleasure.
Later, alone in the shower, Nola couldn’t seem to wipe the smile from her face. Her mind was clear, her body sated. It was the best she had felt in three weeks.
The stinging spray completed her sense of well-being, pummeling her skin and loosening kinked muscles . . . though Tanner really deserved the credit for her current state of relaxation.
A couple of tiny matters tried to intrude on her happy place. She felt safe in Atlanta, but back in Resnick a murderer was still out to get her . . . and almost as bad, there was the fact that she still hadn’t been entirely truthful with Tanner.
He turned off the TV and tossed the remote on the coffee table when she appeared. “How’s your stomach?”
She joined him on the sofa. “Good as new, judging from how hungry I am.” From out of the blue, a few puzzle pieces in her brain fell into place, and she stared at him. “Oh, good Lord. You didn’t bring me here for romance. You just wanted me out of Resnick.” She was such a sucker.
He didn’t even have the grace to look embarrassed. “I brought you here to buy a ring and a dress, so yes—it was for romance. Getting you out of Resnick for twenty-four hours was a bonus.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Don’t think you can manipulate me, Tanner. I’m a big girl. I’m not stupid, and I’m not careless.”
He smoothed a hand over her hair, his gentle touch undermining her righteous indignation. “I don’t think you are either one of those, but can you deny that you’re really relaxed at the moment? Far more so than you would have been at home?”
The man had a point. “Well, still,” she said huffily, “it wouldn’t have hurt to mention it.”
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