by J. Saman
She shakes her head, her messy blonde waves only adding to the bedroom thing she’s got going on. “No, I didn’t want to sleep too long,” she says with a coy smile. “We have a big night ahead of us after all.”
Katie pauses in front of me. My shirt is enormous on her and stops just above her knees. My hands reach out, grabbing her waist and pulling her so that she’s straddling my lap with her bare thighs on either side of mine.
“Do we? What sort of big night?” I lean forward to kiss her sweet mouth.
“Well, I was thinking about whoring myself out.” She tilts her head, her arms stretched out wide. “You know, to pay for the room and the clothes. And after that is done, I was thinking about maybe going to dinner and a club.”
“Hmm.” I run my fingers up and down her silky thighs, stopping just under the hem of her shirt. “Are you offering your services to me, or some stranger? Because I have to tell you, I’m willing to pay way more than the other guy,” I smile, kissing her lips again just because.
“I can’t whore myself out to you,” she makes a tsking sound. “Having you pay me in cash as well clothes and hotel rooms? That just doesn’t make any sense.” Her fingers come up, raking through the back of my hair.
I fucking love that.
She makes a good point though.
“I suppose that’s true.” My hands slide up a little higher, wondering how far she’ll let me go. “How about this? You whore yourself out to me, I don’t pay you in cash, but you graciously accept the clothes and hotel rooms because it makes me happy to share them with you?”
“Hmm,” she purses her lips to the side like she’s thinking about this, and then leans forward so her mouth is hovering alongside my ear. “You drive a hard bargain, Mr. Grant, but I think I’m in.”
God, this girl does it for me. I’m smiling like an idiot.
“Excellent.” I lean in to run my nose along her neck, savoring her scent. “Can I shower with you or am I pushing my luck here?”
I’m kidding and she knows it. Well, half kidding anyway.
“Yeah, sorry. No,” she shakes her head, flattening her lips and widening her eyes like she’s genuinely sorry. She’s not, but I’ll let it go for now.
I kiss her hard, running one hand up and down her thigh and the other hand through her hair. All too soon she pulls back, her pink lips swollen from my efforts. Damn that just makes me want to kiss her more.
“I need to go shower and get ready,” she brushes her lips against mine again like she doesn’t want to stop either.
“I like you in my shirt.”
She smiles, biting her lip to try and hide it. “Me too.”
“Can I watch you take it off? Or better yet, you let me take it off for you?”
She gives me a look that says I’m pushing it. “Not this time.”
I get another kiss before Katie climbs off my lap and walks towards the bedroom, but just before she disappears inside it, she pulls the shirt over her head and tosses it to the floor, treating me to her unbelievable backside.
“You’re evil,” I call out, because she really freaking is. I mean, come on. All I hear is her laughter before she shuts the bathroom door. Damn her, she’s got me smiling again.
And nursing yet another case of blue balls.
When she walks out of the bathroom an hour later, she’s a vision.
Her hair is piled up on top of her head in some sort of a messy up-do. Her makeup is minimal as always, but her lips are red and her eyes are lined with some black shit that really makes them stand out. The dress is probably one of the best decisions Claire has ever made, and I may even have to give her a raise for the shoes, because I have never seen a woman look more beautiful and sexy as Katie does right now.
The black sequin dress goes to her mid-thigh, and has a nice deep V-neckline that shows off just the right amount of cleavage without her tits being fully on display. I haven’t seen the back yet, but I know there isn’t much of one. The black sparkly heels give her a good five inches, and if she can walk in them, the extra height will make dancing with her that much better.
“You are a goddess, Katie.” It’s really all I can manage because my tongue may in fact be dragging against the floor. “Seriously. So crazy, sexy, beautiful.”
She blushes and I think it’s one of the few times I have ever seen it on her. Normally she is incredibly self-possessed.
“You look pretty hot yourself there, Mr. Grant.” Her eyes wander all over me. “I think I may just keep you.”
God I hope so, I want to say, but don’t.
I’m wearing a dark gray button-down with the sleeves rolled up because I hate the feeling of cuffs around my wrists, black Armani pants—another thing from Claire, one I did not request, but hey—and some sort of black shoe. I even brushed my hair, but I left my glasses on tonight because the smoke from the casino bothers my eyes if I wear contacts.
We step outside and Sarah is waiting on us. She hands me the VIP passes to the club I requested, and helps Katie into the limo. The second the door shuts behind us Katie gives me that look again. The one that says I’ve gone a bit overboard with the wooing. I don’t see the big deal here. I mean, it’s not like we were driving around the city tonight so why not go out in style.
The restaurant is on the fifty-fourth floor and the views are incredible. Everything in here is white, from the floors to the walls to the furnishings and there are small glass bubbles dripping from the ceiling.
I’ve never been a fancy restaurant kind of guy, give me a burger and a beer and I’m a happy man. But Claire and Sarah went top of the line, and I’m far from disappointed. We’re halfway through our salad when Katie asks me something I’m surprised hasn’t come up sooner.
“Why don’t you fly?”
It’s not a question I love answering, but she’s entitled to one all the same. “I was in a plane crash about a year and a half ago.”
Katie gasps and covers her mouth with her hand.
“It was a private plane, which I don’t normally use, but I was in a bind and needed to get back to Philly for a meeting. There were no commercial flights available, so I chartered a small jet and we crashed into a field in Nebraska.”
Tears are pooling in her eyes and I hate that reaction so I reach my hand out for hers. The second she slips hers into mine, I realize that I need the comfort just as much as she does.
“Were you hurt?”
I nod. “The pilot was killed on impact, and I walked away with a broken arm, some broken ribs, a concussion, and a lot of cuts and bruises.”
“Jesus.” She shakes her head, wiping away a stray tear and looking out the window. She’s silent for a minute, seemingly lost in her thoughts when she says, “You can’t die, Ryan.”
“What?” I ask, taken aback.
She turns to me and the look in her eyes causes my breath to stall. It’s a mixture of pure fear, anger and resolve. “You can’t die,” she demands. “I need you to promise me.” I don’t say anything because that is not a promise any of us can make—something I became even more painfully aware of as a result of that crash. “My heart couldn’t take it,” she continues. “I can’t lose anyone else that I care about. I realize that it’s an impossible request, but I still need you to say the words.”
Fuck. I didn’t even think about what that story would do to her. “I’m not going anywhere, sweetheart.”
She’s not mollified, but she doesn’t press it further either.
A moment of tense silence follows, before she sighs out, her stiff posture relaxing. “I can see why you don’t fly anymore. I guess I’m glad for that part, otherwise I wouldn’t have met you.”
“Me too.” I mean that with all my heart. I don’t exactly believe that everything happens for a reason, but I feel like all that we have been through has led us to each other. I’ll never be happy or grateful for the loss Katie endured—who would?—but it brought her to me and for that alone, I am bot
h of those things.
The waiter comes back and we order. I manage to lighten the mood by giving Katie shit for ordering chicken instead of something expensive, and our dramatic moment is forgotten—at least for now.
After dinner we take the limo to the club, and thanks to the passes, we not only get to bypass the psychotic line, but we end up in some roped off bar and dance area surrounded by the glitterati—Katie’s term, not mine.
She and I each do a shot of some green thing that is passed around in a test tube, but we both decide we need something real, so I leave her at the edge of the dance floor and head for the bar. The music is insanely loud. The only thing I can hear is the heavy bass. It’s dark in here too, but there are a million lights of every different color swirling and gliding past me.
Actually it reminds me of the club in Miami almost to a T.
The bartender smiles and asks me what I’d like by shouting. I order the tequila shot Katie requested, as well as my whiskey. But when I’m done ordering, I notice he’s not paying any attention to me. His eyes are fixed on something—or should I say someone—past my left shoulder.
“Are you here with that hot blonde in the black dress?”
“Yes.” He looks very interested in whatever he sees, so I turn and notice some asshole who looks like Captain America—minus the spandex—talking to her.
“Dude, you should go get your girl.” My eyes snap back to the bartender and he nods his head in Katie’s direction. “That’s Jamie Cole.” That name means dick all to me. “He comes in here a lot and never leaves alone. Always with the hottest woman and he could care less if she’s attached or not.” Another head nod in their direction. “It looks as though he’s set his sights on yours.”
I turn back and no doubt about it, he’s trying to work her. Hard.
The full lean-in, brushing his fingers across her cheek, tucking a loose hair behind her ear and smiling at her with fuck-me eyes. She’s not uncomfortable or distressed—though she is leaning away from him—so I let her handle it and turn back to the bartender with an easy shrug.
His eyes widen slightly like he can’t believe that I’m not storming over there after her. “You’re either dumb as fuck or confident as hell, and you don’t look dumb to me.” The bartender shakes his head in disbelief.
I get it. Most guys would be all over that. But I know for a fact that Katie won’t go home with that guy.
If it had been Francesca, I’d have been over there in a flash.
Franny would have wanted me to think that she was going home with him. She was just that kind of woman—always making me work for it and mind games were her specialty. Katie is nothing like Franny, and I trust her. It is really that simple.
“He steals women all the time, man. That’s all I’m saying,” he holds his hands up in surrender and then goes about pouring our drinks.
Small hands glide up my back and as I turn, I’m treated to Katie’s soft smile and twinkling eyes. “You left me to the lions,” Katie shouts in my ear and I smile down at her.
I had no doubts with this one.
“I knew you could handle your own.” I brush my lips against hers.
She rolls her eyes dramatically. “What a douchebag.”
I can’t help but grin at my girl.
Our drinks are placed in front of us and I hand the shocked bartender two twenties. Apparently Katie is a rare creature around here.
After drinking our drinks, we head to the dance floor and don’t leave each other’s arms for the rest of the night.
Chapter 16
Kate
I wake in a similar fashion as the day before, wrapped in Ryan’s arms. It’s only been twenty-four hours of this, but already I’m used to it. And that has me troubled.
I know I should pull back.
I tell myself that constantly.
I’m blurring lines and pushing boundaries further, and I cannot stop myself. Every time I try to take a step back, Ryan does something wonderful—which is often—or he gives me a look that I find irresistible.
Or he does nothing and I’m still hooked.
I’m falling for him.
I know I am, and I haven’t a freaking clue as to how to stop it.
“Don’t go,” he rasps out in his sleepy voice, pulling me closer into his body before I can escape. “I like you just where you are.”
I do too, Ryan.
I give up the fight against my conscience and roll over in his arms to face him, kissing up his neck and through his scruffy beard. I like the beard. And I love the way it feels on my skin.
“You keep doing that, I’ll have trouble holding back.”
I sort of don’t care right now. I mean I do, but I really don’t.
It’s a conundrum if ever there was one.
I think conflicted should be my new middle name, instead of Anne. His mouth finds my mouth, my jaw, my neck, my ears and before either of us knows what’s happening, we’re going beyond my kissing rule. Not much, but enough because his hands are groping the hell out of my ass—my bare ass, since I’m in my thong and bra—and I can tell he’s struggling with his restraint.
His cell phone rings from the bedside table and Ryan groans out in frustration. “Fuck.” He rolls over and grabs it, about to silence it when he checks the caller ID. “Fuck,” he says again with a bit more annoyance because I can tell he has to take it. I’m relieved. He throws me an apologetic look before swiping his finger across the screen to answer it. “Yeah?” he snaps and then listens. He huffs out a loud angry breath. “I’m on it. Give me a few hours.” He hangs up and rolls back to me. “I’m sorry, Katie, but I have some work that needs to get done.”
I smile at him, running my fingers through his hair. He loves that. So do I.
“Don’t be. I’m fine. Go work.” I kiss his jaw before hopping out of bed and heading for the bathroom. I debate going to the gym, but I’m fried from getting home late last night and frankly, my mind is a mess.
I need to walk, not run, if that makes any sense.
By the time I make it out of the bathroom, Ryan is on the phone and computer in the dining area at the table. I wave bye and blow him a kiss, and he covers the mouthpiece of the phone, asking whomever it is to hold.
“Where are you going, baby?”
Baby? Yup, I’m a total mess.
I manage a smile somehow. “I thought I’d go walk around the hotel. You do your thing,” I blow him another kiss and head for the door before he can stop me. I need to get out of here.
“I shouldn’t be more than a couple of hours,” he calls out and I throw up a hand so he knows I heard him.
I walk through the lobby, but get bored quickly so I decide to check out the casino. I’ve never been much of a gambler. In fact, I’ve only done it a couple of times and both times were at a casino in Connecticut. I only played the slots, so I guess that’s where I’m headed.
“Excuse me?” a soft, male voice calls out and I look around. “Would you mind helping me out?”
I turn and see an older man, probably in his late-seventies, standing by a long table that I think is a craps table. He’s got bright blue eyes, similar to mine, light, almost-white hair, and a kind smile. “Me?”
He nods with a wide grin, so I take a step towards him.
“I was hoping you could help me play some craps here,” he gestures towards the long oval table in front of him.
His clothes are reminiscent of Steve McQueen from The Magnificent Seven—very cool cowboy, with a faded pink denim button-down, tan pants and matching cowboy hat.
“My wife is off getting her hair done, and I have no one to play with.” He looks down before meeting my eyes. “Would you mind being an old man’s good luck charm?”
I can’t help but laugh. “I don’t even know how to play.”
He smiles, waving me off. “That doesn’t matter. I do, and I’d like to teach ya if you’re interested.” His voice is thick with c
ountry and I find it oddly comforting.
I shrug. “Sure. Why not?” I sidle up next to him and pull out four hundred dollars from my wallet, handing it to the dealer to change out. It’s a fifty-dollar minimum which is a little—or a lot—rich for my blood, but I’ll give it a go.
The guy, who’s name I learn is Mo, gives me the rundown on how to play, so we both place a fifty-dollar chip on the pass line and then he hands me the dice.
“Me?” I ask, feeling a little nervous.
“Yes, you,” he nods firmly. “You’re my good luck charm today, remember?”
“No pressure then,” I half laugh.
“Just toss the dice down in that direction,” he points to the far end of the table. “and don’t worry about anything else.”
I roll the dice around in my hand a few times, and then do as Mo instructed. The dice hit the green felt wall and then bounce back in opposite directions on the table.
“Seven,” the dealer calls out, and Mo is beaming at me.
“Is that good?” He may have given me an overview, but there are a million rules to this game, and I’ve already forgotten most of them.
“That’s good, cookie. We just won.”
My eyes widen as the lady places more chips in front of the ones I had already put down. Mo stacks his winnings on top of his initial bet, so I do the same. The dealer slides the dice towards me and we go again.
“Eleven. Winner.”
Holy crap. That’s twice. More chips and once again, Mo stacks his winnings. We both have a rather large pile building here. “What’s your name, cookie?”
“Kate.”
He looks at me with a smile, but there’s familiar sadness in his eyes. “How old are you, Kate?”
“Twenty-seven.” I’m searching his face, trying to figure out why he looks like a mirror.
“You look just like my daughter did.” And there it is. That one word. Did. Mo and I have a shared pain.
“How old was she?” I don’t even need to clarify my question. He knows what I’m asking him.
“Seventeen. Prom night. Drunk driver.” His words are somber, but the soft smile on his lips gives the impression that it’s always there when he thinks about his daughter. “Yours?” So he’s observant as well.