Seductive Nights Trilogy

by Lauren Blakely

  He reached for her, cupping her cheeks, brushing his thumb over her jaw then her bottom lip, watching her shiver. She looked up at him, and his eyes were fixed on her. Waiting for her. His lips parted, and she was wound tight with anticipation of what he’d say. “I love the way you look at me.”

  Tingles ran down her spine, spreading to her arms, her fingers, all the way to her toes. “You do?

  “I do. I love the way you touch me,” he said, taking her hand, and spreading her palm open on his chest. “I love the way you talk to me. I love everything about you. And I recognize the look in your eyes, too. Do you know why?”

  She shook her head, and her entire body was trembling with want, with hope. “Why?”

  “Because it’s the same as in mine. Because I love you, Julia. I am completely in love with you, and I love you, and I want you to love me,” he said, never breaking his gaze from hers, his beautiful brown eyes flooded with love.

  “I do. I do. I do,” she said quickly, the tension in her chest disappearing, and relief washing over her in waves. “Clay, I love you so much.”

  He ran his hands through her hair, burying his fingers deep. She felt him trembling. He returned a hand to her face, brushed the backs of his fingers against her cheek, and she leaned into him, savoring the gentleness of his touch. Feeling the reverence that he treated her with, like she was precious to him. He ran his hand down her neck to her throat. “Julia,” he said, his voice low but so intense as he spoke. “I have never fallen in love like this.”

  His words bathed her in some kind of bliss, as if her veins flowed with liquid gold. “How have you fallen?” she asked, overwhelmed with all she felt for him, with the way her body seemed to reach for him, to need him.

  “With everything I have. There is no part of me that isn’t in love with you. There is no part of me that holds back,” he said, his voice steady, certain.

  Allness. That’s what it was for her, too. An utter allness. A love so deep and consuming it filled her organs, it rode roughshod over her skin. It was a mark on the timeline of her life. Before. After. She raised her hand, and touched his face, stroking his jawline, watching with wonder as she made him gasp after a simple touch. He grasped her hand, linked his fingers through hers, and brought her palm to his mouth, kissing her there. “I love you.” He bent his head to her neck, brushing his lips ever so softly against her skin, then up to her ear. “I am so in love with you,” he said, as if he couldn’t stop telling her. “I love you so much.”

  “I am so in love with you.” She stretched her neck so he could kiss her freely as he wanted to as she ran her hand through his hair. “So in love.”

  He stopped kissing her, pulling back to look her in the eyes once more. His gaze melted her from the inside out. “I can’t wait to take you home with me tonight. To spread you out on the bed. To make love to you all night long.”

  “I want that. I want that again and again. And over and over.”

  “Now go back in there,” he said, gesturing to the restaurant. “Even though you look like you’ve just had sex.”

  Her cheeks felt rosy. She was sure there was a glow in her eyes. “I feel like I’ve just had sex. Sex with the man I love,” she said, playing with his hair, not wanting to let go of him, but needing to.

  “You will have that. I will give you everything, Julia.”

  * * *

  He’d join her shortly. He would. He just needed to take care of this matter. The text on his phone was loud and clear. Business came first right now, and later, he’d find a way to explain.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Julia skipped down the sidewalk at two in the morning. Every move she made brought a smile to his face, and touched down with happiness in his heart.

  She’d done it. She’d won big. After precariously losing to Michele for a while there, she’d made a few big bets on a few big hands, and had pulled out ahead. She’d wrapped her arms around the chips, and tugged them in tight. She sure looked like she wanted to kiss them, to bring each and every one to her lips, and then shake them at the sky victoriously. Instead, she’d stacked them, handed them to Liam since he’d acted as the bank, and watched with wide eyes as those chips turned into cash.

  She threw her head back, twirling on the street, as if she were a kid catching snowflakes on her tongue.

  “And here’s your money, sir,” she sang, pretending to hand it over to Charlie. “Now, go fuck off forever.”

  She was jubilant, ready to lead a victory march. Clay grabbed her arm and pulled her in for a kiss, bending her back and kissing her like they were on a postcard. Let the whole damn city be jealous. Let the world want what he had. He claimed her mouth with his own, kissing her hard and passionately, like he planned to always. He’d never tire of the way her lips tasted, of her sweetness, of how she responded to him. She wrapped her arms around his neck, and held on tight.

  “Take me home, now,” she said. “I want to know what it feels like to have you as a free woman.”

  He tensed briefly as she said that. But that was ridiculous. She was free. Completely free. He hailed a cab, and ten minutes later he had her in his home, stripping her clothes off as they somehow made their way up the stairs, tangled up in each other. He was still buzzed on the night, on the things he’d said, on the way she’d won, on her sheer and utter happiness, and on telling her he loved her.

  It didn’t matter that one of those things was a lie.

  There would be time in the morning to tell the truth. When day broke, and the sun rose, that’s when he’d let her know. The night was for more.

  “Did I ever tell you I have a thing for mirrors?” he said as he left his clothes in a heap on the floor.

  She raised an eyebrow, as she stepped out of her skirt. “Then join me in the bathroom, handsome,” she said, taking his hand and guiding him to the spacious room. She hopped up on the sink with the mirror behind them, roped her arms around his neck, and pulled him in close. Resting her forehead against his, she ran her hands down his naked chest, making him shiver with desire. “Thank you, Clay,” she whispered. “Thank you for doing that for me. I can’t tell you how much it means to be free of Charlie, and free of Dillon on my own terms. And I loved it. I loved playing for real. Playing in a game that wasn’t fake. Where I had to rely on chance and skill and myself,” she said, and her words were like a tight knot in his gut. But he let her continue. “It means so much to me. You mean so much to me. I am so glad you walked into my bar, and into my life, and into my heart.”

  He kissed her softly, brushing his lips against hers. At least this part was true. This contact. This touch. “That’s the only place I want to be. In your heart,” he said, then took a beat. “Though I like being in your pants, too.”

  She laughed. “Then get in my pants. Except I’m not wearing any,” she said, gesturing to her naked body, covered only in the stockings he’d bought for her. “So this ought to be really easy.”

  He shoved everything else aside, clearing his mind. He wanted to be with her completely. “Nothing worth having is easy,” he said, lifting her off the counter and setting her down on the tiled floor. He shifted her around so she faced the mirror above the vanity, then spoke low in her ear. “I want to watch us. I want you to watch us.”

  She gasped a yes as he dipped a hand between her legs, running his other hand up her belly. He entered her slowly, rolling his hips, savoring the delicious wetness, the tightness. Her eyes floated closed as he rocked into her. “Look in the mirror,” he told her, and she opened her eyes, meeting his dark eyes in the reflection. There was so much want in her gaze, so much openness. “Watch.”

  “I am,” she said, breathing in, breathing out. “I am watching.”

  “What do we look like to you?”

  Her eyes were hazy, her lips falling open.

  “Like two people in love,” she answered.

  He nodded against her neck. “Exactly. That’s what we are. And I’m going to take you there, Julia. I’m going to
take you over the edge. Because I love fucking you, and I fucking love you,” he said, tugging her tighter, holding her closer as he thrust into her. She stretched out her neck, leaning against his shoulder, her body becoming a canvas for his hands as he touched her breasts, her belly, her neck, and her throat. He wrapped one hand around her throat, not so tight that it hurt, but tight enough to let her know she was his. He was possessing her. “Tell me you’re close.”

  “So close.”

  “Tell me who’s fucking you right now.”

  “The man I love,” she said in between broken breaths, her lips open, her green eyes watching him in the mirror.

  “That’s right. The man you love is fucking you. The man you love is making you come,” he said, watching her face contort in pleasure, feeling her body tighten on him, feeling her heat all over him as the sound of her ecstasy rang in his ears and he followed her there, chasing her to the other side.

  He breathed out hard, and so did she as he wrapped his arms around her when they were done.

  “Julia,” he started, and he should have been nervous or scared, but he wasn’t. Not one bit. He knew what he wanted. “I hate the thought of you going home tomorrow afternoon.”

  “Me too, but I have to.”

  “I know, but what if you come back, and this bathroom becomes our bathroom? And the bedroom becomes our bedroom? And this home becomes our home? I can’t stand being without you. I want you here in New York.”

  He searched her features, but her expression gave nothing away. Her mouth was set in a line; her eyes were stoic. He tried to read her, to understand what was going through her mind, but he came up empty. And that’s when the real fear shot off inside him. Had he scared her away? Asked for too much from a woman who needed to live life on her terms? He opened his mouth to backpedal, to say he’d take what he could get, because a little of her was better than losing her.

  But then she turned around, face to face. “I could give you some long answer about how that’s too hard or too complicated, and how I don’t know how to pull it off or make it work, and how I have a job and a family and a business in San Francisco, and that’s all true . . .” she said, then stopped talking, and in that silence his heart thumped hard against his chest, and he swore she could hear every heartbeat of his fear, could tell that each persistent pound was the soundtrack of his misery, of her leaving him.

  “And?” he asked, his throat dry.

  “And,” she answered, the corner of her lips curving up, “and if you’re willing to work with me and help me figure all that out, then I can’t give you a single reason why this shouldn’t be my bathroom, because I love your tub,” she said pointing at the tub, and a smile broke across his face. She leaned back and tapped the mirror. “And I love this mirror.” She gestured to the bedroom. “And your bed.”

  “Our bed,” he said, correcting her.

  “Our bed. I love our bed. Now, take me to bed, handsome. Because I want to sleep in my home. Tomorrow we can figure out all the details.”

  Yes, tomorrow. There were so many details for tomorrow.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  They’re freaking out about the film. CALL ME.

  The message blared at him, his phone vibrating on the nightstand, his eyes bleary from little sleep. But this was the third time his phone had rattled on the wood. He read it one more time, an emergency text from Flynn. Shit.

  Grabbing his phone, he scrambled out of bed and down the stairs so as not to wake Julia.

  “What’s going on?” he asked, stepping out onto the balcony, greeted by the early morning June sun rising in the sky. The hot and muggy days of late spring were coasting into New York. Heat vibrated in the air.

  “They’re worried that we can’t handle the studio. That we’re not big enough,” Flynn said, his voice shaky.

  “That’s crazy. I’ve dealt with that studio many, many times. So have you.”

  “I know,” Flynn said, exasperated. “And they were fine with it from the start. But now I think they’re getting nervous. I’m worried they’re going to back out. I have a breakfast meeting with them in thirty minutes on the Upper West Side.”

  Clay didn’t stop to consider the sleeping woman in his bed, or whether she’d be annoyed that he had to take off. All he could focus on was making sure this film deal went through. Flynn had busted his ass to land the Pinkertons, and if they needed to have egos smoothed or cold feet made toasty, it was his job to do so. The bottom line rested with him.

  “I’ll be there. Text me the location.”

  “Thanks man, I need you,” Flynn said, relief loud and clear across the phone line.

  He headed inside, walked quietly past a sleeping Julia, curled up on her side with her red, flaming hair spread across the white pillowcase, looking like a goddess. His goddess. And he was going to have to tell her what he’d done before they met Charlie.

  He showered and dressed quickly, and she snoozed the entire time, barely moving. He imagined she was in the most peaceful land of dreams, finally sleeping easily now that the price tag was off her head.

  At least he’d been able to do that for her.

  He bent down to softly kiss her cheek. She sighed lightly, but didn’t wake. Gently, he shook her shoulder. He was greeted with an inhale, and an exhale. “Julia,” he whispered.

  Her eyelids fluttered. “Hi,” she said, opening them briefly.

  “I need to go. I have to meet Flynn and the Pinktertons,” he said, glancing at his watch. “Should last an hour. Two, tops. I’ll meet you at ten thirty and then we’ll see Charlie together.”

  She nodded sleepily. “Call me at ten, so I can shower?”

  “Of course. Don’t go without me.”

  “Do I look stupid?”

  “Sassy from the moment she wakes up,” he said, shaking his head in amusement.

  “Back to sleepy time for me,” she said, roping her arms around his neck. “But first. This.”

  She pressed a sweet kiss to his lips. “I love you,” she murmured, and his heart thumped painfully against his chest, lurching toward her. He desperately wanted to stay, to sit her down, and to explain. She’d forgive him. Of course she would, right? But he also had made a promise to Flynn and to himself that he’d take care of business. He had time for both. He could manage both. He’d tell her before they met Charlie. “Can we go shopping later for new towels?”

  “You don’t like my towels?”

  She shook her head. “I like big, fluffy ones.”

  “Then let’s get you some big, fluffy towels.”

  “And I kind of think you could use a more comfortable bench on your balcony. Those wooden slats are hard.”

  “Considering what I will do to you on that, let’s get it today.”

  She smiled again. “My flight’s at three.”

  “Then we will shop or we won’t shop, but whatever we do I will love every second of it because I’ll be with you, and I love you so much,” he said. “And if I could blow this off and spend the morning inside you, I would. Believe me.”

  Believe me. His words echoed. He needed her to believe him.

  “It’s okay. Soon, we’ll have plenty of Sunday mornings to be lazy and naughty together.”

  “Lazy and naughty. Gorgeous, that is a promise.”

  He’d keep that promise. He would absolutely keep that promise.

  * * *

  Coffee. She needed coffee, stat. Her brain was fuzzy and her muscles were sluggish, and the late-night poker and even later-night sex had worn her out. After a quick shower, she grabbed her clutch purse and her phone, and headed downstairs. She didn’t bother hunting out coffee in the kitchen. She was a coffee-shop kind of woman, and besides, she really should get to know the cafes in this neighborhood. It was going to be her neighborhood soon, and that prospect brought a grin to her face as she pressed the down button in the elevator.

  Her elevator.

  Her lobby.

  She couldn’t believe she’d said yes so quickly, s
o easily to his question. She should be terrified of packing up and moving across the country. She should hem and haw, and think and consider. But as she pushed open the door of their building, stepping out into the bright morning sun on their block, she knew.

  There was no question about it.

  She and Clay were more than solid. They had a future, a bright and beautiful, smart and seductive future. He was her match; he was the one she hadn’t been looking for, but who had found his way to her regardless. He was the one she couldn’t imagine being without. To think they’d started as a one-night stand, and now they’d become . . . well, they’d become indispensable to each other.

  As she ordered her coffee—black with room for cream—she considered that it might be a risk moving here with him. She could get hurt. She could be left. Worst of all, she could be played like a fool.

  And yet, this was Clay, and he wasn’t that kind of a man. He’d be more likely to travel to Pluto than to play her. Maybe love made you take chances, or maybe real love made you take the right chances.

  She poured cream in the coffee, knowing he was the right chance.

  She left the cafe and ran a finger over her right breast. Not because she had a hankering for self-booby love, but to double-triple check that the money for Charlie was still tucked safely in her bra and ready to turn over. Safe and sound, and nestled against her.

  Her phone buzzed, and she pulled it from her purse.

  On my way. Be there in ten minutes. Love you.

  She couldn’t help but smile because he couldn’t stop saying I love you.

  Her stomach rumbled, a reminder she hadn’t had much dinner last night. The restaurant where they were meeting Charlie was one block away, but she wasn’t going to show up early to eat and risk running into Charlie alone just because her tummy was growling. She was a big girl and could withstand hunger. Besides, once they were through with the mobster she was planning on ordering French toast with butter and syrup, and enjoying every single bite. She texted back, letting Clay know she was parked outside the cafe at a tiny little sidewalk table.