“And they need you for this?”
“Most of the men I work with don’t have the opportunity to meet women they might be serious about marrying. They’ve often focused their attention on their careers or education. Some of them are famous, but they don’t want to settle down with a woman they’ve met on the road or someone who’s been part of their fan club.”
“And where do you find the women who are anxious to throw themselves at the feet of these rich men?”
“I belong to a number of organizations, and I’m active in Houston’s art and business communities. It may surprise you, but I’m often invited to high-society events. I’ve seen you at a few.”
Rafe regarded her again. “We haven’t met.” He would have remembered. Her eyes, her voice, the sweet curve of her hips, the way her legs went on forever in those shoes. Yeah. He would have remembered.
“No. I spend most of my time talking with women. Part of my value is that I’ve met all the candidates, interviewed them, watched them interact at social events.” She nudged a folder toward him. “Try me.”
“Have a seat.” Rafe wondered at his sudden offer of hospitality. He didn’t need Hope and her lilac-and-silk scent in his office while he looked through the files.
She sat opposite him, her movements delicate. Her skirt rode up her bare thighs, just a bit. He imagined skimming his fingers across her smooth skin while she gasped, then yanking down her panties, curving his fingers into the hot flesh of her ass cheeks.
Christ. He’d spent all Saturday working on next quarter’s business plan. In the previous day’s bike race against some of his friends, he’d pushed too fast, too hard, on a grueling part of the course and crashed. He’d had a shot of Crown before going to bed, but skipped taking anything else for the pain. He’d slept like hell, and he’d spent too long working out cramps in the shower to even think about masturbating.
Now, he wished he had taken the edge off.
Of course being this close to an attractive female after an intense drought would give him an erection. Shit. He couldn’t force himself to believe his own fucking lie. Every day, he was surrounded by beautiful women. He wanted Hope. With her ass upturned, listening to her frantic breaths as she waited for his belt…waited for his touch. It was more than the sound of her voice or the innocent-yet-provocative shoes, it was carnal desire. Lust. The last time he was gripped by its power, he’d been in college and far more helpless than he was now.
He imprisoned his thoughts and focused on the task in front of him.
Picking up the first file, he flipped it open.
The top page had a name, a picture, and the vital statistics of a beautiful twenty-four-year-old blonde. She was a UT Austin graduate, a pageant winner who flashed a tiara-worthy smile and worked as a fundraiser for underprivileged schools.
Of course his mother would approve. And yet… He felt nothing—less than nothing. He was uninspired and disinterested. The hard-on he’d been sporting vanished. He glanced up at Hope Malloy.
“She doesn’t appeal to you?”
“Not in the least.”
“Perhaps you’ll have better luck with another choice?”
He didn’t.
After perusing the second picture, he glanced back at Hope.
“Nothing?”
“No.”
“It’s possible the attraction would develop after you meet someone. Her choice of conversation, the way she moves or looks at you.” She shifted. “Pheromones.”
Those, he was starting to believe in. Keeping his mind on the folders, he said, “I see. My mother hopes I will select a bride, whether I want to fuck her or not?”
Hot pink scorched Hope’s cheekbones before she recovered. “So, you would rather have a spine-tingling attraction to someone who consumes you? A wife you can’t stop thinking about?”
“No.” He flipped the folder closed without reading any of the pages. He refused to be out of control over a woman ever again. But if he was expected to marry and produce an heir or two, he should at least want to go to bed with her.
“Can you tell me what it was about the first two candidates that didn’t suit your needs? It will help me refine the search.”
“Ms. Malloy…” He struggled to leash his raging impatience. “Show some fucking mercy, will you? Until ten minutes ago, I didn’t know I needed a candidate.”
She edged the third folder toward him.
With great reluctance but with a sudden urge to get through this, he thumbed it open. Another blonde. Another perfect smile. Another impeccable pedigree. “Since I didn’t fill in your forms, I assume it was my mother who decided what college degrees and background were important?”
“Your sister rounded it out as far as activities you enjoy.”
“Yet I don’t see any of them who like to ride a mountain bike.”
“Not a huge demand in this part of Texas.”
For the second time, he resisted the impulse to hurl the files in the trash. Instead, he opened his top drawer and swept the offensive lot inside, then slammed it shut.
Hope uncrossed her legs and leaned toward him. Then, evidently thinking better of it, she sat back and recrossed them.
He swore her skin whispered like the promise of sin.
“Perhaps you should consider the options at a more convenient time,” she suggested.
“I’ll see you receive full payment.” He stood.
“I’ve already received it.”
His mother had written this woman a check for a hundred grand? “Thank you for your efforts.”
“Mr. Sterling—”
He walked past her to the door and opened it.
She sighed but stood. After gathering her purse—a small pink thing shaped like a cat, complete with ears and whiskers—she joined him. Instead of leaving, as he’d ordered, she stood in front of him, chin tipped at a defiant angle.
Hope projected competence, but the heels and fanciful handbag gave her a feminine air. A sane man would think of her as a vendor or business associate, so he could slot her into the off-limits part of his conscience. She wasn’t a potential date or wife. Or submissive.
He wanted her.
She isn’t mine.
Fuck his conscience.
The super long, intrigue-filled story, Billionaire’s Matchmaker is brimming with sexual tension. Warning, you may stay up too late reading! Read more HERE.
Have you met the super-sexy agents from Hawkeye Security? Read more about Hawkeye operatives Wolf Stone and Nate Davidson, along with Kayla Fagan in Come to Me, a super sexy, ménage, spiced with intrigue.
If you like two sexy, dominant alpha males, a steamy touch of BDSM, some great suspense, and a heart-wrenching second chance at love, this is the story for you! It’s a standalone novel with my personal guarantee of a magical happily ever after!
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Wolf Stone, no matter how drop-dead gorgeous he was, was out of his freaking mind. And an asshole to boot. “You left Nate out there?” Kayla Fagan demanded. “Have you seen the weather?”
“He’s not made of sugar.”
“If this is how you treat your fellow operatives, what do you do to your enemies?”
He shrugged. “None of them left alive to tell.” He smiled, and it did nothing to soften his features. The quick curve was more wicked than anything, making his eyes darken, reminding her of those few moments of twilight before the sky devoured the sun.
He strode from the kitchen, and she followed. “Mr. Stone—”
“Wolf, or just Stone.” He didn’t slow down. “And I’m not worried about how I’ll sleep tonight.” He crouched in front of the hearth, tossing kindling into the empty fireplace grate.
Even though she was stunned by his bad behavior, she couldn’t help her fascination as she watched him. His shoulders were impossibly broad. Long black hair, as wild as he was, was cinched back with a thin strip of leather. And Lord, he had the hottest ass sh
e’d ever seen.
Thunder cracked, and she worried about Nate. “I think you should at least invite him in until the storm passes.” Even though it was summer, weather could be extreme at this elevation.
“Save your breath.” Stone struck a match, filling the room with the sharpness of sulfur. “My mind is made up.”
“You can have a heart, just until the weather clears. Then you can go back to your regularly scheduled…” She stopped short of saying assholeishness. “Grumpiness.”
His mouth was set, brooking no argument. “Let it be.”
Huge splatters of rain hit the floor-to-ceiling windowpanes.
Wolf might be able to sleep at night if he left his comrade out there, but she would toss and turn with worry.
Decision made, Kayla crossed to the hallway closet, pulled open the gigantic golden oak doors, and took out a raincoat. She also grabbed her gun and checked it before tucking it into her waistband. She snatched up a pair of compact binoculars and a compass and was shoving her arms in the sleeves of the yellow slicker as she walked through the great room on the way to the back door.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
“Exactly what you said. I’m saving my breath.” Kayla spared him a glance. “I decided not to argue with you.”
“Stop right there.”
He spoke softly, but his voice snapped with whiplash force. Despite herself, she froze. She’d faced untold danger, but this man, unarmed, unnerved her. A funny little knot formed in the pit of her stomach.
Kindling crackled as fire gnawed its edges.
“Turn around.” His voice was terrifying in its quietness. “Look at me, Fagan.”
Struggling not to show the way she was trembling, she turned.
He stood. “I will be very clear, Ms. Fagan. You are here at my pleasure.” He took a single step toward her. “I will not be disobeyed.”
His statement was loaded with threat.
Wildly she thought of the room in the basement, the one with crops and paddles hanging from the walls. The one she’d been forbidden to enter, and the door she’d opened the first time he’d left the house.
She locked her knees so she didn’t waver. “I’ve never been much for obedience.”
“Nathaniel Davidson is far from helpless.”
“He’s a fellow member of the team.” She pivoted and walked away.
The wind whipped at the door, nearly snatching it from her hand.
She turned up the collar of her ineffective raincoat. There was never anything friendly about a Rocky Mountain storm.
Fortunately, she didn’t have far to trudge. In less than fifteen minutes, the ground beneath her sizzling with electrical ferociousness, she saw a streak of orange.
She grinned.
Members of her team were smart. Nate had donned a reflective safety vest. That would, at least, stop friendly fire.
“Davidson!” When she got no response, she called out a second time.
He started toward her. “Come to rescue me, have you?” he shouted above the roar of the wind. “Bet Stone told you to come.”
“He sends his regards and invites you to sit next to the fire while he pours you a cognac.”
Nate laughed. “How much trouble are you in for coming after me?”
“He didn’t threaten to flay the skin from my hide.”
“Doesn’t mean he won’t.”
“Thanks. That’s a comforting thought.”
Thunder crashed.
“I ought to write both of you up.”
Wolf. Her breath threatened to choke her. How much had he overheard? It shouldn’t have surprised her that he’d followed, that he’d effortlessly covered the same ground she had in far less time. The man was in shape, and he kept himself sharp, the same way he had when he led American troops in the Middle East.
Over the lash of the summer storm, his voice laden with command, he said, “Both of you, back to the house.”
The wind snatched a few strands of hair and whipped them against cheekbones that could have been sculptured from granite. His jaw was set in an uncompromising line. Out here, in the unforgiving elements, he appeared even more formidable than he had in the house.
Nate glanced at her. “Maybe I will get a cognac after all.”
“No fucking chance,” Stone fired back.
Cheerfully, as if he couldn’t have been happier, Nate whistled and gamely started down the mountainside. No one should be happy about this kind of reception.
“Move it, Fagan,” Stone instructed, leaning forward so he could issue his command directly into her ear.
“Yes, sir.”
Steps short but sure, she followed Nate, leaving Stone to bring up the rear.
Minutes later, the mean-looking sky unleashed a torrent. Earth became mud. Rocks became as slick as ice.
She lost her balance, and Stone was there, wrapping an arm around her waist, pulling her up and back, flush against the solidness of his body.
The sensation zinging through her was from him, not the streak of lightning. “I’m good. Fine.”
He held her for a couple of seconds, his warm breath fanning across her ear. What would happen if she leaned back for just a bit longer and allowed herself to be protected in his strong arms? To feel his cock against her? To surrender to the fantasies that kept her awake at night and her pussy damp, even now?
And what fantasies they were.
Last night’s sight of his semierect dick had driven her mad.
After he returned to his own room, she’d thought of the crops and paddles in his downstairs room. She’d pictured him using them on her while she gasped and strained, and ultimately surrendered to the inevitable. Turned on and needy, she’d pulled up her sleep shirt and parted her labia to find her clit already hardened.
She’d come with a quiet little mew and wanted nothing more than to scream the house down as his cock pounded her.
What was wrong with her? She couldn’t afford thoughts like this with any man, particularly one she was sent to protect. Because of the risk inherent in working for Hawkeye Security, many employees were fueled by adrenaline, and affairs were common. But everyone knew the rules. No commitments. No emotions were allowed to get in the way of the job. But the way he held her was an invitation she wanted to accept.
When he released her, a chill crept under her jacket. This time, being more careful, she followed Nate’s path.
The trip up had taken maybe about fifteen minutes. Down took half an hour. And by the time they reached the home’s patio with its outdoor kitchen and oversize hot tub, the sky was spitting out pieces of ice in the form of hail.
Very polite country, this.
Minding her manners, she took off her shoes and left them on a rubber mat, then hung the slicker on a peg.
Kayla told herself two lies. First, that she wasn’t stalling. Second, that her fingers were shaking because of the cold weather.
Stone unlocked the back door and indicated she should precede both men into the kitchen.
Nate followed her, and then Stone relocked the door behind them.
“You.” Stone pointed a finger at Nate. “What the hell were you thinking?”
Nate took a step back for self-preservation.
Both men dripped water and tracked mud. Neither seemed to care. And neither seemed to notice she was even there.
“You knew I wouldn’t invite you here.”
Nate shrugged. “You don’t want anyone. Because you’re a fool.”
“A fool?”
“For always thinking you can do it alone. And you damn well know it.”
The men were a study in contrast. Fair to dark. Alpha to beta.
“Fuck your ego, Stone. There’s no place I’d rather be.” Nate’s tone was flat, as if that explained everything.
Kayla sucked in a breath when Wolf devoured the distance to pin Nate against the counter. Nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide.
“Wolf,” she said, licking her lower lip.
Her stomach plummeted to her toes. She was watching two magnificent warriors spar, and if she wasn’t careful, she’d be collateral damage.
To find out more about Nate and Kayla, check out Come To Me HERE.
All Hawkeye books are standalones with a happily ever after!
OTHER TITLES BY
SIERRA CARTWRIGHT
Titans
Sexiest Billionaire
Billionaire’s Matchmaker
Billionaire’s Christmas
Hawkeye Series
Come To Me
Trust In Me
Meant For Me
Bonds
Crave
Claim
Command
The Donovans
Bind
Brand
Boss
Mastered
With This Collar
On His Terms
Over The Line
In His Cuffs
For The Sub
In The Den
Master Class
Initiation
Enticement
Individual titles
Double Trouble
Shockwave
Bound and Determined
Three-Way Tie
Signed, Sealed, and Delivered
His to Claim
Hard Hand
Billionaire's Christmas (Titans Book 3) Page 10