“Don’t stop.” Her eyes met his as he dipped his hand inside the thin strip of material.
“Whatever you want,” he promised against her lips, his fingers finding the very swollen, sensitive pearl of her clit and stroking her to a quick, sharp orgasm that had her clinging to him, riding it out.
“I want everything,” she said against his ear, sliding her hand down the front of his jeans and massaging him through the material. “And I want it without all of these clothes in the way.”
His nostrils flared as he kissed her hard, pressing her up against a cushion. Tiffany had to almost pinch herself to believe she was here with this movie star of a man, doing these wonderful things with him. It wasn’t as if her previous boyfriends hadn’t been good-looking, but they weren’t anything close to Garrett.
Garrett was older than any of the other men she had known, and she wondered how old he was, exactly. Not that it mattered. She liked it. From what he’d said of his wife, Tiffany estimated Garrett was somewhere in his mid-thirties.
She couldn’t imagine the hell he must have gone through losing his wife, but it had given him a kind of quiet integrity that shot his innate sexiness through the roof. Strong-chinned and broad-shouldered, classiness exuded from his posture, from his sure movements. Combined with the experience that he had in life—and the fact that he had so intensely loved and lost—it was all enough to make a girl go for it, just like she was doing now.
Things were heating up fast, and they wasted no time getting rid of each others’ clothing. The lights were on, and she fought the urge to cover up as he took her in, that serious gaze studying every inch of her.
It was erotic but disconcerting to have a man look at her like this. When Tiffany looked at herself that closely in the mirror, she wasn’t always pleased with what she found, noting all of her faults. Compared to what she saw in magazines, her breasts were too round and too heavy. Going braless hadn’t been an option for her since she turned fifteen.
Though she ran almost every day, chugging up and down the steep hills of the city, her thighs never slimmed down as much as she wanted. Lately, she’d gotten a little hippy from the darned croissants that came from the bakery across the street from the jewelry store. Right now, she wished she had more willpower, except when it came to Garrett of course.
“You’re gorgeous. Sexy as hell,” he said, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed hard, not taking his eyes off her.
The way he said it, the hungry expression on his face—as if he wanted to eat her whole—made it easy to believe him. His ready erection hardened even more, proof of his desire.
“Thank you,” she said, feeling slightly shy, but a whole lot turned on. “You, too.”
She wished she had something more clever, sexier, to say, but he didn’t give her time to think about it, pulling her flush against him.
Oh. He felt really, really good, she thought hazily, every inch of their hot skin in contact, everything soft about her and hard about him meeting up perfectly.
“I love when you do that,” he said as he lowered to explore her breasts with his lips. He seemed to like them a lot, she thought with a soft smile.
“When I do what?” she gasped as he sucked a nipple in between his lips, rubbing his tongue against it in a way that zoomed all the blood in her head straight south.
“Sigh. I love how you sigh…” he said hoarsely.
“Oh, good, because you’re making me do that a lot,” she said, but her sighs turned into moans as he drew harder on one breast and then the other, paying homage to that part of her anatomy for a good, long time until other parts were screaming for attention, too.
That would have to wait, she thought. Curling her fingers into the soft hair at the back of his neck, she gently tugged him upwards.
“My turn,” she said, planting a hand on his chest and pushing him gently back against the sofa. He stretched out before her, and for a few minutes all she wanted to do was look at him.
“Whatever you want,” he said again, bending his arms to fold his hands behind his head, as if he were a fantasy buffet set out for her pleasure.
Which she supposed he was.
Dark hair fell over his forehead, mussed by her hands, and his eyes were like hot, melted caramel as he looked back at her. His was an athlete’s build, muscled but toned, not bulky. He had a little bit of hair on his chest, but not a lot. She followed the silky path of it leading down to his groin to take in the sights there, too. The vision of strong, muscular thighs made her tighten. Everything about him was perfect. She bit her lip, trying to decide where to start first.
She straddled his thighs, the touch of his skin next to hers making her close her eyes again for a moment in sheer bliss. Reaching down to wrap her hand around him, she drew her fingers over the head of his cock and then down along the shaft, seeing what he liked. Tiffany continued to touch, exploring down underneath the root of his cock and back up the length of him again. He groaned in pleasure, arching a little into her touch, as if wanting more. His muscles stood out in relief as he did so, making him even more spectacular, so she did it again.
“You’re a tease,” he said, his breath shorter, but he didn’t sound upset about the fact.
“Maybe a bit,” she admitted coyly. “Just getting to know you better.”
“By all means, get to know me as well as you like,” he said.
Their eyes met and she didn’t look away as she planted her hands on the back of the sofa, on either side of his shoulders.
“I suppose we should get the disclaimers out of the way first, huh?” she said and told him what he needed to know, delighted to discover that they were both as healthy and protected as could be.
Kissing her way down his chest, and then pausing to lick the crown of his shaft before taking him in her mouth, she was gratified by his intense response as he groaned loudly. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw his fingers curl into the upholstery. Nice.
A low moan shuddered through his body as she enjoyed learning every inch of him with her lips and tongue. When she knew he was close, she stopped and moved to kiss the inside of his thigh, nipping him there, feeling him jerk in response.
“That’s enough, you siren,” he growled playfully, rising up to standing, and carrying her to the bed where he towered over her.
“You’re wicked,” he accused, his eyes hot, jaw tense as he reached for the box of condoms he’d bought on the way back to the room.
“You have no idea,” she said, wanting to play up the fantasy as he sheathed himself. They’d agreed that a little extra protection never hurt. Tiffany also secretly liked the extra texture a condom could provide—and they typically made men last longer. She so wanted this to last.
Touching her hands to her breasts, the look on his face as he watched encouraged her to do more, his cock nudging the entrance to her body and then slipping inside as their eyes met. She arched to take more of him, sighing again as he pushed deeper.
He took it slow, the fullness of him gradually filling her completely. She gasped when he was planted completely inside, her fingers grasping his shoulders as he lowered down to kiss her.
“Wow, that’s good,” he said, the words choked from him, as if he was also feeling the unbearable pressure that held back pleasure she could only guess at; the heat and need to move stalled only by the amazing feeling of fullness that she didn’t want to lose just yet.
“Better than good,” she managed to agree, her body accommodating him, adjusting to him as he pulled back slowly, then thrust forward again, making her cry out, lifting her hips up to meet his rhythm.
Heat suffused the space between and around them as their movements became more focused and intense. Wordless, he pulled her legs up around his hips, fastening her to him even tighter, and rocking against her clit so that she felt herself tipping quickly over the edge.
“Yes, yes,” Tiffany panted as she gripped his shoulders, losing track of everything but the release that seemed to be building through her whol
e body.
When he kissed her, his tongue doing to her mouth what his cock did inside her body, her mind blanked, her body clenching and trembling as they groaned into each other, never breaking the kiss and not slowing their movements until the last ripple of climax had faded.
The heat they’d generated left them sweaty, tired and, Tiffany thought, more satisfied than she could ever remember being in her life. Garrett rolled to his side, but brought her with him, his arms still around her.
It was impossibly sweet and made her feel all kinds of things you weren’t supposed to feel for a guy you were having a wedding hook-up with.
“That was…” he started to say.
“Yeah, it was,” she agreed, interrupting, and not wanting to talk about it. Her body could still feel him, his touch, inside and out. The heat from release pulsed through her blood, like embers of a strong fire still simmering under the spent coals. She liked—too much—how his arms wrapped around her.
This was dangerous. Her impulsive heart wasn’t listening to her newly logical brain, and she didn’t need to be a detective to figure out that she could fall hard for Garrett, given the chance. Her body had its own agenda altogether.
She discovered this as she started lazily sliding the arch of her foot up and down the hard column of his ankle and shin. They were both spent, but she felt his semi-erection twitch against her hip, as if wanting more.
Unbelievably, she wanted more.
She kissed him once and pulled gently away, sitting up, taking the sheet with her.
“Where are you going?” he asked, frowning.
“Shower and home. I guess. Wedding in the morning, remember?” she said with a smile, wanting nothing more than to go back to bed with him for the rest of the night.
But she was going to be smart—and strong—for once in her life.
“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” he said, sounding disappointed, which floated her heart and weakened her resolve. He was disappointed that she was leaving, and she took a moment to soak that up. Some guys she had been with couldn’t wait to get her out the door after the good part was over.
He nodded, yawning. “I am a little jet-lagged after the flight and then getting recruited into the wedding. And I have to be there extra early to get the tux refitted before we’re good to go.”
It was a credible excuse for both of them, and one she was thankful for. Sort of.
“Do you mind if I use your shower?” she asked, cutting to the chase.
She took one last, long look and wondered if she wasn’t completely crazy for not crawling right back into that bed and having her way with him again.
“Not at all. Do you mind if I join you?” he asked, his eyes telling her he had more in mind than washing up.
Tiffany nodded, unable to repress her enthusiasm for the idea.
“I’d like that.”
She still planned to leave afterward—to stay strong—but she wasn’t stupid.
3
TIFFANY HAD NEVER enjoyed a wedding more. Several people asked her what was different about her—had she colored her hair? Changed her make-up?
She couldn’t tell them the reason for her extra shine was having been well and truly done and done again by Garrett, who stood with Ed and the other men by the side of the altar. Even when all other eyes were on Isabel—and rightly so—Tiffany could feel Garrett’s on her. It made it hard to breathe, wanting him so much. She’d never been quite this fully in lust before.
They’d barely said five words since arriving at the church, since she’d spent all of her time with the bride and other attendants, and he was with Ed and his groomsmen. As they all walked out the door in a shower of birdseed and flower petals, guests and the bridal party milled around and chatted as the photographer grabbed them for photo-taking opportunities. The park was lovely, with the Golden Gate towering majestically in the background, its red towers grand against a pure blue sky.
“The weather is just perfect,” Tiffany said, tipping her face up to the sun and smiling at the bright fall sky. “It’s like a picture.”
“It’s a beautiful day,” Garrett agreed, handsome as sin in his classic tux, which made him even more celebrity-like. “The wedding was very nice, too.”
“You know, in that tux you look more like a spy than a bodyguard,” Tiffany commented, tapping her chin as she assessed him playfully. “You’re too refined to be a bodyguard. Aren’t they supposed to be bruisers who have tattoos and wear leather? You’re so nice,” she teased with a smile.
He laughed out loud. “I think you’re confusing bodyguards with bouncers, but are you saying I’m not a tough guy?”
“Not at all. I bet you are tough. I paid close attention to every muscle under that suit last night,” she said, sending him a flirty look. “If you recall.”
He grinned, rocking back on his heels. “Oh, I do. So you should also know that I’m not all that refined or polite, and what we did last night was definitely not nice,” he said silkily, reaching to discreetly draw his fingers down the length of her spine before cupping her bottom through her dress.
Tiffany shivered at the touch. She hadn’t slept a moment after returning home, instead reliving every single second since she’d met Garrett—especially the ones at his hotel room. It had been hard to get out of bed, and nearly impossible to focus on the wedding, but somehow, she’d managed to do what she had to.
Now, she wished they were anywhere but here in this crowd. The way Garrett talked to her, the way he’d been looking at her since their eyes had met at the head of the aisle told her that he wanted more.
So did she.
“On the contrary, I think the things we did were very nice,” she argued under her breath, enjoying the secret repartee as they smiled at other wedding guests who walked by.
“If you thought that was nice, then maybe I need to work harder at living up to my badass bodyguard image,” he said, and the look he sent her made her wonder what bad-boy secrets Garrett might be hiding.
She was dying to find out, but it was only supposed to be that one time. Just one night.
But that wasn’t exactly realistic, was it? They were, for all intents and purposes, each others’ wedding date. He was here out of town, not knowing many other people; she couldn’t just ditch him, after all. The wedding was kind of like a vacation weekend; their little fling could last until the wedding was over, and then they would be, too.
Tiffany’s skin was warm even though there was a cool breeze, and she turned to face him.
“I suppose I could give you another chance to show me how bad you are,” she said, playing it cool even as her heart beat a little faster at the thought of being with Garrett again.
He stepped closer. “Oh, I can be very bad,” he promised, just as suave.
“Prove it,” she breathed.
She so very, very much wanted to know, but she didn’t expect it when he slid an arm around her waist and scooped her next to him, taking them both around the other side of the tall shrubs into a small, secluded grotto.
Large boulders had been arranged with smaller, sculpted rocks into a secluded sitting area that was fragrant with lush flowers and a garden that made the spot seem as if it were truly an escape from the hustle and bustle of the world. The air was slightly cooler in the shaded spot, but Garrett’s lips were hot as they captured hers in a kiss that was anything but polite.
His tongue tangled with hers as he slipped his fingers beneath the low scoop of her neckline to play with a nipple as the other was bunching itself in the skirt of her dress, lifting it up.
“Garrett, everyone is right over—”
He moved his mouth to her ear, nipped her earlobe and ordered, “I know. Be quiet. Not a sound. They could hear,” he cautioned.
Her breath caught at his tone, apprehension erased when he kissed her until objecting was not on her mind at all.
As his hands made their way along the garters she wore, his very appreciative, guttural curse told her he enjoyed t
he sexy discovery. Tiffany was pretty sure she’d never been so turned on when his hand slipped into the lace scrap of panties she wore. She held her breath in anticipation of his touch, but then, to her surprise, he looped his hand through and tore them from her with a single pull.
“Gar—” His name came out on a squeak, but he gave her a warning look. She pressed her lips shut, unsure what he was going to do next, but wanting desperately to find out.
She watched as he took the lace from under her dress, and pushed the scrap into his pants pocket before dropping to his knees and pushing her skirt up enough that he could see her.
“Beautiful,” he murmured, running his fingers under the strap of the garter again. Tiffany reached out to brace her hand on the rocky wall of the grotto behind her. She expected to feel his fingers on her, but she drew in a sharp breath when he parted her thighs and the warmth of his tongue slid along the soft, sensitive skin of her sex.
Biting her lip to keep from moaning out loud, she peeked toward the corner of the grotto, and jerked away, her skirt falling into place as she heard voices and saw two bridesmaids walking around the edge of the shrubs.
Garrett must have seen as well and pretended to be looking for something on the ground as the two approached.
“Ah, there it is,” he said with satisfaction, standing and putting what had to be nothing in his pocket.
Tiffany tried to get her breathing under control, her entire body hot with the fires he had kindled.
“Tiffany! We were looking for you. The photographer needs you. Both of you,” Mary said, and then paused. Looking back and forth from Garrett to Tiffany for a few seconds, she smiled wickedly.
“But I’m sure he can wait for five more minutes,” Mary said with a chuckle, still grinning back at Tiffany as the women left the grotto.
Tiffany groaned to herself, her cheeks warm. Mary wouldn’t say anything, but she had definitely been able to tell that Tiffany and Garrett weren’t sharing friendly conversation.
“That was close,” she whispered.
“It certainly was…but all the more exciting for it,” he whispered back, winking at her as he held his arm out for her to take. She did, appreciative of the small gesture.
Yours for the Night Page 4