Insatiable (Unrated! Book 6)

by Leslie Kelly

  “Huh?”

  “I mean, you know, some guys might ask for the buttsecks.”

  He inhaled a piece of popcorn and promptly choked on it. Leaning forward to cough into his fist, he nodded his thanks as she pounded on his back. When he’d gotten himself under control, he looked up to see the mischief in those beautiful blue eyes.

  “You are a bad, bad girl, Viv Callahan.”

  “So glad you noticed.”

  “For the record? I believe you were the one who initiated the, er, buttsecks.”

  Her pink cheeks said he’d gotten even with her.

  “How in the name of God can you be blushing?”

  “That’s ridiculous,” she insisted, chin going up. “I’m absolutely not blushing.”

  “Yes, you are. Your face is as red as an apple.”

  “It’s a hot flash. I’m on my period.”

  “Bullshit. The vixen is embarrassed. And it’s adorable.”

  She fisted a hand and punched him in the upper arm. “I kinda hate you right now.”

  “Nah, you don’t,” he said, more sure of that than he was of anything. In fact, he suspected she kinda loved him.

  The idea flashed across his mind, and then quickly disappeared. Because, really, what did he know about love? Hell, it wasn’t as if he’d ever really witnessed it. His parents hadn’t loved each other, one of his sisters was a divorced mom, the other one bitter after whatever had happened with Sam. All of his friends were single or paying alimony.

  Love? What the hell did that have to do with anything?

  He forced all the uncomfortable memories away, focusing on the here and now. The here was sweet, sexy Viv, inviting him to stay for a movie night.

  He leaned back and pulled her against him, until her head was tucked under his chin. “Now, about this film. Got anything with lots of blood and gore?”

  She grimaced.

  “Okay, no blood and gore. How about serial killers?”

  “Not a chance.”

  He sighed. “Rabid dogs?”

  “I’ve got Old Yeller!”

  He’d been thinking more along the lines of Cujo. “That is the most depressing movie ever. I’d rather watch American Psycho.”

  Whatever color had been in her cheeks fell out of it. His Viv might have balls, but she was not the horror-movie type.

  Suddenly snapping her fingers, she got up, opened her movie cabinet and searched for something. In a moment, she held up a recognizable case.

  “Star Wars?”

  She bit her lip and nodded. “Is that okay?”

  “Perfect!” he said. Then, glad that she was finally starting to smile, he, added, “Some Darth-Vader Jedi action for me, and Luke and Leia romance for you.”

  “Eww.” Her nose wrinkled in distaste. “They’re siblings. No incesty movies for me, thank you.”

  “Guess that means you hate that coffee commercial that comes around every Christmas then.”

  Her eyes widening, she nodded quickly. “Oh, God, yes, with the brother and sister? Ick!”

  “I know, right?”

  She caught his inflection, realized he was trying to make her laugh by mimicking every teenage girl on the planet, and giggled happily. Putting the DVD in, she rejoined him on the couch. She curled next to him, and they settled in to watch the movie. But as the famous opening credits started to roll up the screen, talking about a galaxy far, far away, he noted that Viv still felt stiff. Despite their laughter, the tiniest hint of tension remained in her body.

  She confirmed it when she whispered, “You really don’t mind?”

  “Why would I mind?”

  “It’s so normal,” she said, twisting her hands in her lap. “And it isn’t leading to anything.”

  There was trepidation in her voice. His strong, sexy woman, who was an utter wildcat in bed, who wasn’t afraid to take what she wanted, was feeling vulnerable. Viv was unsure of herself, and of him. All because she feared he’d be angry that they couldn’t have sex tonight.

  In all the moments he’d shared with Viv, even the ones when she’d been so devastated about what had happened to her at work the day they’d met, he’d never heard her sounding so forlorn. It was as if she didn’t really believe he’d want to spend a simple, easygoing night just eating popcorn and watching TV with her, with no expectations of anything else.

  That, more than anything, made him want to track down that asshole whose massive chin was littering the streets of Arlington. If he could find him, Damien would shove one of his campaign signs down Dale what’s-his-name’s stupid throat for ever making Viv believe she was good only for one thing.

  Doing that wouldn’t help now, though. It would do nothing to ease Viv’s concerns. So instead, he tightened his arms, kissed her temple and replied, “Honestly? I can’t think of anything else in the world I’d rather be doing, or anyone else I’d rather be doing it with.”

  Her tension eased, her muscles relaxing. Viv nodded slightly and then turned her attention to the screen. Confident, at last, that he was here with her, doing this, for no other reason than that he cared about her.

  As that realization crossed his mind, he forced himself not to tense up as she had. Because the realization was such a new, shocking one. But as he evaluated it, Damien realized he had to admit it was true. He cared about Viv Callahan as he’d never cared about another woman in his entire life.

  He hadn’t expected it, hadn’t ever really supposed it would happen, but his emotions were getting involved here. What that might mean for the future, he couldn’t say. They lived a thousand miles apart, their jobs supposedly excluded them from being together, his family was pretty psycho, neither of them had a great romantic track record. So what chance did they have for something real?

  Probably none.

  But maybe...maybe more than he’d ever dreamed of.

  8

  OVER THE NEXT few days, Viv kept waiting for Damien to tell her he had to return to Miami, to his real life. But the days slipped by, each better than the last. They were inseparable when she wasn’t working, and he swore he kept busy during the day, too. She noticed he’d set up an office in the spare room of the penthouse, and she supposed it was possible an international hotel magnate could run his empire from one of his own hotels.

  Their relationship had begun with sex. Wild, fabulous, amazing, never-to-be-forgotten-as-long-as-she-lived sex. And she’d told herself that was all she wanted, because, even though she knew nothing could come of it and that there was no future for them, he was worth it. What they had together was worth it.

  Now, though, she had begun to suspect it wasn’t just about sex. Something had changed. Since Friday night in her apartment, when he’d held her close and they’d watched a movie, eating popcorn, kissing and cuddling, she’d begun to accept the possibility that he wasn’t just sticking around because they were so good together in bed.

  Damien required nothing from her, had no reason to be with her other than sex. And yet when they couldn’t have sex, he’d stayed. He’d held her, teased her, done normal things and seemed perfectly happy about it.

  This was becoming more than a sexual affair.

  That should have scared her to death. The truth was, however, that when she thought about how he made her feel, not physically, but emotionally, she was incredibly happy instead. Seriously, down-to-her-toes, never-more-elated-than-this happy.

  Because she was falling in love with the man.

  She wouldn’t tell him, of course. No matter how he acted, being confronted with a woman’s emotions was enough to scare off any guy.

  Part of her worried it wouldn’t matter, that his rich, jet-setting life, into which she so didn’t fit, would pull him away sooner or later. She’d be left alone with nothing but memories.

  B
ut even that fear didn’t make her want to close up her heart, to build her defenses against that possible day. Instead, she wanted to grab what she could get, certain any future moments of sadness or loneliness would never outweigh the sheer joy she got from being with him now.

  “What’s on your mind?” he asked her early one morning. “You have a big smile on your face.”

  She stretched and curled up next to him, having relented and spent last night in the penthouse. It had been their first night in bed together since the movie night, and she hadn’t been able to drag herself away after their incredibly erotic, but still somehow tender, lovemaking. “Just, uh...”

  “I know, I know. You’re thinking about me,” he said, sounding self-satisfied.

  “Not at all.” He was right, but no woman wanted a man to be too sure of her.

  She scrambled to come up with something to hide the fact that she had been lying here, soaking in the sunshine and his body heat, building castles in her mind constructed of his smiles and his laughter and his touch.

  “Um, I was just thinking about my parents.”

  A groan. “Not what a guy wants to hear when he’s in bed with a beautiful naked woman.”

  He sounded so disgruntled, she had to laugh. “Their thirty-fifth anniversary is next month. My brothers and I are planning a party.” Rolling her eyes, she added, “Since it’s two weeks from Halloween, my younger brother, Aidan, wants to make it a costume party and have everyone come dressed as their favorite Grease character. That was the movie my parents went to see on their first date.”

  “Oh, God.”

  “You saying I couldn’t totally rock black leather and a chick fro?”

  “I have no doubt you could,” he said with a leer.

  “We’re having the party at the Blue Mountain Lodge. Too bad there’s no Black Star location in Gerryville, Pennsylvania.”

  “We don’t build in cities of less than a million people.”

  “Bummer. So close. Gerryville misses that mark by only about nine hundred and ninety thousand.”

  “You’re the proverbial small-town girl, huh?”

  “Yep. With five brothers. Why else do you think I now live in the city?”

  He toyed with her hair, twining a long strand around his fingers. “Where do you fall in that hierarchy, anyway?”

  “I’m number five out of six.”

  He grimaced. “Four big brothers?”

  “Yep. Big being the operative word.”

  “No hockey players among them?”

  She made a face. “No, thankfully, though all of them played football in high school.”

  “Do they all still live in your hometown?”

  “Yep. Joe, the oldest—he’s divorced with two boys—works with my dad in his plumbing business. Neil’s second. He went into the military and then went back to Gerryville to open a gun shop. Third, Evan, is a firefighter. Andy—he’s eleven months older than me—just got married and is taking over his wife’s family’s dairy farm. And Aidan, who is pretty smart, his party suggestions notwithstanding, is at Penn State, studying sports medicine.”

  “No wonder you had to sneak into the computer lab to lose your virginity to Ollie the nerd.”

  Blinking in surprise, she said, “You have a good memory.”

  “Only when it comes to the important stuff.”

  “Like when and where I lost my virginity?”

  “Your sex life is of critical importance to me,” he said with a wolfish growl. “So your family is close?”

  “Very. My brothers can be idiots, but there’s nothing any of us wouldn’t do for each other.” Her voice softened, as did her heart, as she continued. “And my parents are the best. Still crazy in love with each other, even though my mom gripes about Dad’s snoring and he groans about the credit card bills.”

  Although he smiled, a shadow seemed to cross his face, and he glanced away. Damien didn’t talk much about his own family. She remembered his father was dead, and that he had two sisters—both younger. She also knew he didn’t get along with his mother. Other than that, though, he was pretty quiet about his background. Which made her feel more gabby than ever for having mentioned all the branches on the Callahan family tree.

  When he didn’t reciprocate with any kind of stories about his own home life, she bit the bullet and asked outright.

  “What about you? You said you have sisters. No brothers?”

  “No, there’s just me, Johanna and Holly. Oh, but I do have a nephew—Holly’s little boy.”

  She remembered. “The one who enjoys being read to.”

  “Right.”

  Licking her lips, emboldened by his willingness to talk about it, she said, “And your father died many years ago?”

  His body stiffened a bit. But he drew in a slow breath and replied, “Yeah, when he was forty-one.”

  “So young!”

  “It was the day before I graduated from high school.”

  “Oh, no,” she said, her heart aching for him. What an awful time to lose a parent. She wished she hadn’t asked, not sure she wanted him to relive it.

  But Damien was lost in the memory, already telling it. “He was in New Orleans overseeing a new hotel construction, but a storm system came in, shutting down commercial flights. He had his pilot’s license and wasn’t about to miss my graduation.” His whole body was taut, as tight as a wire. “He went down in the Gulf of Mexico. Some wreckage washed up in the panhandle a few weeks later.”

  “Oh, God, Damien, I’m so sorry.” Tears welled in her eyes. She couldn’t imagine losing one of her parents. And to lose them in such a way, without even having a body to bury. Agonizing.

  “It was...not a good period in my life.”

  “I can imagine. What did you do?”

  “What he’d have wanted me to—I graduated, went ahead with my plans.” He traced his hand down her arm, absently drawing circles on her skin. “His father came out of retirement to manage the business while I got through college. Then my grandfather had a massive heart attack and died right before I got my MBA.”

  “Oh, no.”

  “Yeah.” He managed a hard laugh. “I decided then and there I’d never go for a doctorate. Who knows who’d fall over dead?”

  She heard through the humor to the heartache underneath. Damien was a strong man, but this part of his past was incredibly painful for him to remember, and to talk about.

  Viv was gratified that he trusted her enough to share the memories with her. And that her own younger years, while the epitome of the hard-working, blue-collar lifestyle, at least hadn’t included such tragedies.

  “You’ve run the company ever since?”

  He nodded. “Dad was an only child—no aunts or uncles to step in. My sisters weren’t interested. My mother just wanted the money to keep coming in so she could continue to support her latest husband in the style to which he’d become accustomed.”

  An unkind word crossed her mind about Damien’s mother, but Viv didn’t voice it.

  Damien wasn’t finished. “In my house.”

  “What?”

  “She got a lot of money from my dad, but the estate where I grew up technically belonged to my grandfather. He left big cash settlements to my sisters, but left the island just to me. My mother was living there at the time...and still is.”

  Viv managed to not goggle at the word island, and focused instead on what he was saying. He’d lost his beloved father, and his grandfather. Meanwhile his mother—with whom he had a strained relationship—had remarried, maybe more than once, and was supporting a succession of husbands in Damien’s house.

  Ouch. Talk about the lifestyles of the rich and shameless.

  But at least everything began to make sense to her now, why he lived out of hotels, why he was in
no hurry to get “home.” She understood why he lived a vagabond’s life, so quick to set up an office in a hotel room. Of course he didn’t mind eating out every meal, or that there wasn’t a picture on the wall or a pillow he could call his own when he laid his head down at night. Damien Black, one of the richest men in the country, was, for all intents and purposes, homeless.

  “Why don’t you get a new place?”

  “Because it’s my dad’s childhood home. My childhood home.” He breathed deeply, the subject obviously a sore one. “I mean, I have a condo on the beach, on the top floor of the flagship hotel. That’s where I usually stay. But even that is just too close. I prefer to steer clear of south Florida altogether.”

  “I get it,” she whispered. And she did. He didn’t want to live there—couldn’t possibly live there now—but he couldn’t just let go of the home he so closely associated with his own childhood, with his father, with his grandfather. Even though she sensed his relationship with his mother was strained, he probably also held on to it for her sake, not wanting to take away the home she’d lived in for decades.

  He wouldn’t appreciate her saying it out loud, but he was a fine man. “I’m sorry about everything that happened to you, Damien,” she murmured, pressing a kiss onto his shoulder. She dropped her hand across his waist and gently squeezed him closer. “Life can be so unfair.”

  “Don’t cry for the poor little rich boy,” he said, his tone droll. “My fifty-foot yacht and private jet are pretty decent consolation prizes.”

  Viv couldn’t help gasping at that, though, of course, she knew Damien was filthy rich—private island, remember?

  He’d never flaunted his wealth, but there’d been no denying it, either. At first, whenever they walked by a high-end store, he’d wanted to buy her something. She’d refused diamonds and clothes, even ignoring the ones he’d already bought, leaving them to hang in the penthouse closet. All because she hadn’t wanted him to put her in that category—as the kind of woman who’d take what she could get while she could get it. Not when what she most wanted to take, while she could get it, was him.

  That was why she hadn’t worn the clothes, and hadn’t let him buy her another thing. Well, there had been one thing. Last weekend when they’d walked through a farmers market, he’d bought her a fresh, delicious peach. As the juice had dribbled down her cheeks, she’d assured him it was the best present anybody had ever given her. He’d looked at her as if she was crazy, and then kissed the nectar off her lips, afterward agreeing that it had been a damn fine peach.