by Kendall Ryan
“Dr. Barton,” Gavin said, extending a hand. “I trust you’ve been well.”
“Not as well as you’ve been, I see,” the older man said, eyeing me eagerly. He had a short goatee and glasses, but his silver hair was the only thing distinguished about him. He leered at me, sizing me up. His gaze roving over my skin made me want to crawl out of it and hang it elsewhere like a suit. Anything to get him to stop staring.
“Not still rooting for the Bruins, are you?” Gavin asked Dr. Barton.
“Of course.” The man laughed.
“That’s a damn shame,” Gavin joked.
They continued teasing each other for several minutes while I stood beside Gavin, smiling politely and trying to blend into the background. But I couldn’t escape the unfamiliar and somewhat creepy feeling. Even as he spoke to Gavin, the man’s gaze hardly left me . . . or my cleavage.
“If you’ll excuse us, we can’t stay, but if you’re in need of a companion to an upcoming event, I can help.” Gavin handed out his business card again, this time a little more obviously.
Relieved that we were finally close to leaving, I pasted on a polite smile. This process wasn’t yet familiar or comfortable, but I was trying. I wasn’t sure if this would ever feel natural for me, and in a way, I hoped not.
“And how about a night with her?” Dr. Barton grinned at me through crooked teeth. “What do you say, sweetie?”
Cringing, I stammered. “I—um . . .”
Gavin’s arm wrapped around me possessively, gripping my waist to draw me close to the warmth of his body. “She’s not available.”
Seconds later, he dragged me away, hot anger rolling off him in waves.
Once we were in sight of the front doors, he paused, turning me to face him. His nostrils flaring, he took a deep breath, obviously fighting to get himself under control. But when he spoke, his words surprised me.
“I’m sorry. I have no idea why I acted like that. I had no right to decide for you. If that’s what you want . . .”
It took me a moment to understand what he was saying.
“God, no. I have no interest in that. You saved me. I should be thanking you.”
His sharp exhale was confirmation that I’d said the right thing. We were on the same page.
“I’m sure you and Cooper will keep me plenty busy. I’m not interested in anything more than that.”
“Good. Ready to get out of here?”
I nodded, but as Gavin watched me, his expression changed from one filled with longing to one laced with . . . regret?
I wondered just exactly what it was I was agreeing to. Looking down at my shoes, I fought to compose myself. Tonight had been filled with so many conflicting emotions, I was almost dizzy.
In that moment, I knew this wouldn’t be casual, knew I wouldn’t walk away from this in one piece.
Using two firm fingers beneath my chin, Gavin tipped my face up toward him. “Do I frighten you?” he asked, amused.
“Of course not,” I lied.
And he didn’t.
He terrified me.
I knew, even without truly knowing, that Gavin had the power to hurt me deeply. I could already feel my emotions spinning out of control. Nothing about this situation was normal. But then again, nothing about this man was normal either, so what did I expect?
“Good, because you terrify me,” he murmured, taking my hand and pulling me toward the exit.
My breath caught in the back of my throat at his admission, but I was powerless to do anything but follow him to the exit and wonder what tonight had in store for me next.
Chapter Twelve
Emma
The darkened interior of the limo created a quiet, contemplative mood. The moon was high and full, illuminating the leather seats and dim lights of the vehicle, and the farther we got outside of the city, the more brightly the stars shone up above.
Gavin had asked the driver to take us someplace I’d never heard of before. Although I knew I ought to protest—to claim I was tired and wanted to go home—I couldn’t bring myself to leave him.
Not yet.
Along the way, I attempted small talk. “I’m sorry if I pried earlier, about your upbringing.”
“You’re curious.” Gavin’s voice was smooth, measured.
I nodded. “I wasn’t sure what Cooper meant. I asked how it was you came to be involved in this business. I had a feeling there was a story there.”
His eyebrows ticked up, but he didn’t meet my gaze. “You’re very intuitive.”
“Must be the librarian in me. I love a good story.”
“Which do you prefer . . . tragedy or romance?”
My smile faded. “I’m not sure I understand what you mean.”
He nodded. “In my experience, there’s usually not a difference.”
Before I could ponder his ominous remark, Gavin took a deep breath and continued.
“First, my upbringing. We were raised by our mother.” He paused, his mouth pressed into a firm line. “Never knew who my father was.”
“Oh, I’m . . .” The word sorry died on my lips.
“Let me guess. You grew up in Connecticut, or upstate New York.”
“Upstate.”
His lips twisted into a cruel smile. “Here for us. Boston. In an area known for rough neighborhoods and even rougher streets.”
Licking my lips, I waited, unsure if I should have started this entire conversation to begin with. It was taking on a darker and more ominous tone than I was prepared for.
I thought that would be the end of our conversation, but Gavin leaned in toward me.
“We deal in the one thing we know—women.”
And sex.
He left those words unspoken, but I felt the weight of them press against me as surely as if he’d spoken them aloud. A chill raced down my spine as I was left to wonder what in the hell that meant.
The limo slowed to a stop, parking at the edge of a bluff that looked out over a spread of massive trees below. The twinkling lights of the city glowed faintly in the distance.
“It’s beautiful here,” I said, more for my own benefit than his. I wanted—no, needed—to change the subject. Needed to see that dark, twisted look in his eyes fade back into the hard determination I’d learned to accept. The look that made me feel less like molten lava inside.
Gavin pressed a button, relieving me of my seat belt, and did the same for his. “Something to drink? Or have you reached your limit?”
The challenge in his words was unmistakable, but that was good. Some indication that he’d come back from wherever it was he’d gone a few moments ago. We both knew I’d had little more than a couple of splashes of champagne, so I grinned at him.
“I think I can handle a little more.”
“Perfect.” His deep voice was smooth, more hypnotizing than it should have been. Just being here with him felt so surreal.
Gavin opened the wide leather console between us, exposing a hidden refrigerated compartment. He poured a glass of champagne in a long-stemmed flute for me, and a measure of bourbon for himself.
Tapping a few buttons on his phone, Gavin connected his playlist to the limo’s sound system. Soft, moody music filled the silence between us.
He was such an intense man, but this moment was so simple—two people sitting in a parked car, listening to music, the moon roof open so we could gaze at the stars. I wanted to ask him what he thought about when he was quiet like this, but I got the sense I’d grilled him enough for one evening. From what I could tell, Gavin wasn’t used to opening up about his feelings.
Grasping for a lighter topic, I attempted small talk. “You know my passion, but you never shared your hobbies. What interests you? Other than giving copious amounts of money to charity.”
He shifted in his seat to set his glass in the cupholder on the door, and turned toward me. “I’m much more interested in learning about you, to be honest, Miss Bell.”
“There’s really not much to tell.”
“Let’s start with why you really agreed to this. What are you looking for?”
“I . . .” I chewed on my bottom lip, trying to think of how best to explain myself. “Okay, this is going to sound a little silly.” And only half true, because the rest of my reasoning was buried so deep, even I didn’t want to admit it. “The brownstone where you picked me up tonight? I bought it, and it’s pretty much falling apart inside.”
“And you want to restore it?”
I nodded. “It’s more than that, though. The place used to belong to my grandparents. It’s been in my family for generations, and my parents were going to just give it up. I could only barely afford it, but I spent so many summers there as a girl . . . it felt too important to let someone else make it into some modern, open-concept nightmare of a house.”
He considered me for a moment. “That’s a good start.”
“What do you mean, a good start?”
“That’s part of it, I’m sure, but that’s not why you’re doing this. Not really.”
I frowned. “But it is.” I looked down, not sure if I knew how to answer his question, unsure that I even wanted to try, but frustrated at how easily he could read me.
Gavin took the champagne glass from my hand and placed it in the cupholder beside his. The air between us changed, the mood becoming something more sinful and insistent.
“Do you want to know what I think?” His voice was low, the rich tone hypnotizing.
I opened my suddenly dry mouth to say no. I didn’t want to know what he thought in the least, because some part of me knew he was going to give voice to the very thing I wanted to stay hidden. But being Gavin, he didn’t give me a chance to cut in.
“I think you want to feel desired and experience passion, but you’re afraid to ask for it. You want a man to take control, to make you feel wanted, and you want to feel pleasure like you’ve never imagined.”
His words stripped me bare, the truth in them startling me to my core. He had me pegged, and it was so cliché, I felt a rush of embarrassment. The lonely little librarian, desperate to experience the kind of passion she’d only read about.
Leaning in closer, Gavin tipped my chin up, drawing my mouth closer to his. I could feel the heat of his skin, his breath ghosting over my lips, and hazy arousal flooded my brain. Cupping my jaw, he brought my lips to his, pressing a soft kiss there—softer than I would have thought possible from him.
When I parted my lips in a silent invitation, Gavin took full control of the kiss, his hot tongue skillfully gliding against mine. We kissed for several moments before he pulled back just an inch, leaving me breathless.
He hummed against the side of my neck as his fingers roamed my skin, light touches meant to pique my interest. And they were doing a damn fine job. “You feel good.”
Funny, considering I wasn’t doing anything other than sit here, pressed against him, practically panting while he bathed me in gentle caresses.
His hands felt so good on my skin, and it had been so long since I’d been touched like this. Need pulsed between my legs, heavy and hot. I didn’t know what was happening to me, only that I’d never felt like this.
“The way you look in that dress?” He made a low sound of approval in his throat. “Those men wanted you. You made me crazy tonight.”
“I made you crazy?” Had he lost it? He was the one so hot, it should be illegal.
“Insane,” he murmured, taking my mouth again.
He slanted his jaw, deepening our kiss, his tongue stroking mine until I was dizzy. I’d never been kissed like this. In my less-than-substantial experience, there was always a certain level of fumbling awkwardness when two people first came together. A learning of each other’s styles, a give and take.
But there was no awkwardness here. Gavin made himself clear from the first second his mouth met mine. He took. This was a far cry from an exploratory first kiss. He had total control, pulling me close. His hand moved from my jaw to my shoulder, his other stroking the column of my throat.
He smelled of peppermint and leather, and tasted faintly of whiskey. It was an intoxicating combination, and like a lightning flash through the darkness, I was undone.
The rough pads of his fingers slid beneath the satiny material of my halter top, flirting with the ties there, making me crave more of his touch. More contact. More everything.
His mouth was firm and demanding against mine, and I felt the fiery sparks of need detonate deep inside me.
“Damn you for being so fucking tempting.”
His whispered dirty words almost undid me. His voice was deep, raw with need, and vibrated through me, making fire lick through every square inch of me, burning me to the core.
Gripping his firm biceps through his jacket, I leaned in for another kiss. He bit my lower lip so hard, I knew it would be bruised tomorrow.
Urging me closer, Gavin helped me from my seat and straight into his lap. I parted my thighs, bringing my center directly in line with his groin where I could feel a firm bulge trapped between us. He was hard.
I let out a gentle moan of approval, and Gavin’s mouth pulled into a crooked smile. The expression on his face was perfectly controlled, but the steady strum of the pulse in his neck signaled his excitement.
“I can feel how hot and wet you are through your dress.”
I was sure my cheeks were stained red, and was thankful for our dim surroundings.
“Is that for me?” he asked.
I bit my lower lip, fairly certain his question was rhetorical.
He knew it was, and he shook his head. “Naughty girl.”
He was right. I couldn’t believe what had come over me. We were parked on a hillside, and the driver was mere feet away. Since this wasn’t a stretch limo, there was no partition, no barrier between the driver and us. But damn if I was going to let that stop me. I hungered for Gavin’s touch like I’d never craved anything before.
It started out as a dirty little secret, something to amuse myself with. I lived a boring existence—work, home, bed . . . and Gavin was a distraction. Maybe I should have left it there, but I hadn’t.
And here I was.
His punishing mouth on mine.
His hands in my hair.
My heart in my throat.
The firmness of his erection pressing between my thighs.
And my mind reeling with what might come next.
Chapter Thirteen
Gavin
The desire to ravage Emma was almost overwhelming. I didn’t know what kind of spell this demure little thing in my lap had put me under.
There was no denying she was my type, sure. And the little moan she’d let out had almost sent me straight to my knees. But still . . .
Control was my middle name. Yet right now? Every ounce of my resolve had been pushed to the limit.
Despite all my years of practice, I felt like a horny teenager, ready to paw at the first girl to show me her bra.
This was the exact reason I hadn’t brought her home. It was much too private, too intimate.
I wouldn’t let anything happen in front of Ben. At least, that’s what I’d told myself when we left the gala. Yet here we were. My steely will had all but disappeared, and Emma was writhing in my lap, making soft, need-filled sounds that pulsed straight to my cock.
Breaking away from the kiss, Emma gripped the lapels of my jacket and tried to shove it down my shoulders. I doubted she noticed the way I flinched when she touched me, but still, I couldn’t allow it to happen again.
“Hands behind your back, pet,” I said as coolly and calmly as I could manage.
Emma obeyed, crossing her wrists and placing them at her lower back. The position thrust her beautiful tits up and out, and that was all it took to destroy the thin strands of my self-control.
Suddenly, I didn’t care about Ben or how I’d wanted things to go. All I wanted was to get inside her.
After untying the knot at the back of her neck that secured her dress in place, I started to peel it away.
“Wait.”
I raised a brow as she clutched the material to her chest.
“Can’t he . . . see us?” she whispered, nodding toward Ben.
Glancing ahead, I shrugged. “Trust me. He’s not watching. He’s paid very well for his discretion.”
She hesitated, softening in my lap, and made my cock twitch again.
“If he did glance back here, all he’d see was your bare back. You’re facing me,” I added.
She nodded, and I felt the last of her resistance slip away.
I lowered the straps of her dress and freed the most mouthwatering set of breasts I’d ever seen.
“I don’t think we’ll be needing this.” Unclasping the simple nude-colored bra she wore, I tossed it on the seat beside us. Her lingerie wasn’t sexy, wasn’t something meant to entice or thrill, but my pulse jackhammered all the same as I took in her rosy nipples, stiff and waiting for me.
Testing the weight of her breasts in my hands, I let slip a groan of approval, and Emma sucked in a sharp inhale.
At first, I kneaded her tender flesh, stroking her nipples gently with my thumbs as I savored the image of her body in the moonlight. But even I knew, after all this time? All this tension? It wasn’t enough. Her body was begging for more, and I gave her what she needed, plucking her tight buds between my fingers until they hardened, and Emma cried out.
Lowering my mouth to her skin, I trailed my tongue along her cleavage, her collarbone, only venturing lower when she made a frustrated sound of need.
Sucking the firm peaks into my mouth, I worked my tongue over each one. I wanted to see if I could make her come like this, but I was too needy for her scent, to feel her wet heat on my skin.
She squirmed against my cock, forcing a ragged breath from my lungs. I wanted nothing more than to bury myself inside her.
Pulling the skirt of her dress up around her hips, Emma shifted, allowing me access to the damp scrap of lace she wore. With a twist of my fingers, it was out of my way.
Rocking her hips forward, Emma showed me a peek of swollen pink flesh that made my mouth water. As I swept my thumb across her firm clit, she made a soft whimper of pleasure.
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