[Secrets of Stone 01.0] No Prince Charming
Page 28
“You do that on purpose, don’t you?” he drawled into my ear.
Busted.
“So what if I do? Are you going to stop kissing me, Mr. Stone?”
“Never, Miss Montgomery.” He gracefully rolled to his side next to me. “I would, however, like to be doing it more than two weekends a month.”
I sighed. “They need to change that silly nickname of yours. The Stubborn Mule of the Magnificent Mile fits you so much better than that enigma crap.”
“Hmmm. You’re probably right.”
“Which means you’re going to say it anyway, right?”
“Mmm-hmm.”
I tucked a pillow beneath my head and rolled my eyes. “Fine. Go ahead.”
His approach was different this time. He burrowed his lips against my neck, slowly working his way along all the spots he knew to be the most arousing. “When will you quit that silly job and come work for me at SGC?”
I gasped softly and arched, hoping to give him better access. “We’ve been through this before, Killian.”
“And just like before, this long-distance commuting is killing me.” Dear God, the man could do magical things with those full, sensual lips of his. “I want to wake up like this every morning with you, baby.”
“I know.” Sadness tinged my response, half because I really meant it and half because he’d ended the declaration by pulling away to add the dark beauty of his eyes to his effort. “And when the time is right—”
“Which will be…?”
“I just can’t up and leave my Dad, Kil. Besides, I hate being cold. It’s already ass-freezing outside, and—”
“It’s nice,” he protested. “It’s fall! Do your palm trees look as awesome as the park outside?” His hair fell into his eyes in all the sexiest ways as he jerked his head toward the window. I resisted the urged to pull him down to me again, focusing instead on my best beach-girl pout.
“If I survived a winter as a resident here, I’d be a raving bitch by the end, and you’d be dying to toss me into the lake.”
“Never.”
“Are you sure about that?”
“I’ll keep you warm. Promise.” He leaned down once more, sucking my jaw this time. “I know all the best tricks in the book, fairy queen…the good ones and the naughty ones.”
“Aren’t they the same thing with you, Stone?”
“Guilty.” He rounded my chin, inching his way up to gently nip at my bottom lip.
I sighed as he kept the path of kisses traveling down my neck. “If you keep this up, I’m absolutely going to miss my flight.”
“Okay by me,” he mumbled while dipping down the front of my neck, making me squirm in all the best ways as he slid toward the valley between my breasts. “I happen to own an airplane, my love.”
“Errrm, I vaguely remember that cute little pile of bolts,” I teased back.
“That pile of bolts is perfectly prepared to fly you home at a moment’s notice.”
I skated my hands down the muscles of his back to distract myself from a resigned laugh. How the hell was it possible to keep resisting the man’s persistence? Simply put, I just couldn’t. Not anymore. We’d finally found a happy groove, and it had been working for a few months now. Could all of this go on forever? We both knew it couldn’t—but that was a bridge we’d cross together in the future, knowing we’d find a solution that fit us both.
I wished things were different for Dad. He hadn’t said anything directly to me, of course, but I saw signs that things weren’t right in paradise for him and Andrea. I could do little but be supportive until Dad spoke up, though I had to admit that might not ever happen. He was an Irishman through and through, including the stubborn-pride thing. And maybe all of those signs were simply my overactive imagination at work again, melodramatic misperceptions of two people in the adjustment phase of a new marriage. The first year was supposed to be the toughest, and Dad had been a bachelor for a long time. Some of the changes had to be weird for him.
Or maybe Andrea was a cold control freak nobody could live with. Oh yeah, that. I still wasn’t sure what Dad saw in her, which brought me back to my stellar blowjob theory—a speculation I quickly dismissed despite the contradicting evidence.
After Asher and Associates wrapped Trey’s case, Killian convinced Andrea to retain me as SGC’s permanent consultant. Andrea had already considered extending such an option for other clients, and Killian simply exploited the idea. He’d made my bi-monthly visits part of the final contract, a necessity that hadn’t hit Margaux well at all. I was certain the smoke from her ears reached three-alarm status when Andrea issued the announcement at the monthly team luncheon, which Killian himself had made a point to attend. Despite the constant surveillance he now kept on Margaux in one form or another, I didn’t share his confidence that we’d heard the last of her spiteful retribution.
A couple of hours later, we stood at the VIP security checkpoint in O’Hare Airport. I sighed back tears and swallowed hard. Then again. This was the part that sucked every time.
I stood on the tips of my toes and wrapped my arms around his neck. I felt—and saw—the appreciative stares of other women at him, also not a new aspect of our public goodbyes. Killian was just one of those men. It didn’t matter what he wore, said, or did—he simply attracted attention. His own sigh, deep and heavy, reverberated through us both as he locked his arms around my waist and lifted me off the ground to meet his lips. Our height difference was ridiculous when I wasn’t in heels, and I always dressed in flats when traveling in case of the need for an OJ-style sprint through the airport.
“Just two weeks,” he whispered into my ear.
I reacted with a choked moan. “It always seems like longer.”
His grip tightened. He nipped softly at my earlobe. “You know, in this position, you’re a bit helpless. I could just steal you away…walk you right out of here before you could fight back…”
He pulled back enough to let me see his attempt at a sinister leer. Instead, he looked a little dorky…and a lot sexy. I giggled and rubbed a hand against the weekend scruff lining his jaw. “I wouldn’t even try to fight, and you know it.”
We smothered each other in a lip-mashing kiss. At the moment I felt his crotch start to lurch against the puddle at the crux of my thighs, he reared back. With a deprecating grin, he murmured, “Wow.”
“You stole that thought right out of my head.”
His gaze darkened, and his lips lifted. “We’ve come a long way, haven’t we?”
“That’s a good thing, right?”
“Damn straight. Just think…how I was so afraid of you running away…”
I pouted. “I never ran very far.”
“Would’ve been a lot less far if you were naked in my bed more often.”
I smacked his shoulder playfully as he set me back down, but the overhead speakers blared with the boarding call for my flight. Instantly, I leaped back at him, overwhelmed and teary. He was right—it would only be two weeks before I saw him again. The reassurance did nothing this time. I didn’t want to let go. No…no.
I looked up into his dark velvet eyes, struggling to blink the sting out of mine. Alarm tightened the corners of his lips.
“Hey hey…why the tears, fairy?” He brushed my hair back and kissed my forehead.
“I love you so much,” I rasped. “In such a short amount of time, I’ve fallen so far. I’m in big trouble here.”
“This isn’t trouble, baby. It’s love. And it’s the best thing a person could hope to find in their lifetime. This is the real deal…and we’ve found it with each other…and I’m so fucking grateful. So unless those are tears of happiness, no more crying, okay?”
His words, so pure and strong, lent me the will to nod. “Okay.”
“You’re stuck with me, Claire Montgomery, for as long as you’ll have me. The ride’s just beginning.”
“Not a Tilt-A-Whirl, right?”
He chuckled. “Nope. No more throwing up, I guarante
e it. This distance thing…it’s temporary.”
I giggled again. “Watch out, everyone. Killian Stone has spoken.”
“Fucking right,” he drawled, kissing me again before assuring, “We’ll work it out. Maybe there’s a Southern California office in the future for SGC, or maybe we’ll buy a little farm halfway for both of us…”
I smirked. “You realize that lands us somewhere in Colorado.”
“Hmmm. Perhaps a ranch, then. Or a little trendy coffee shop. I could wear a beret and make designs out of cappuccino foam all day.” When I could answer with nothing but a long laugh at imagining him as a hipster barista, he answered with a dazzling smile and went on. “We don’t have to decide today. Until we do, it’s one day at a time for you and me. Now get your sweet ass on that plane before I really do have to fly you home myself.”
We had a long-standing deal. I never looked back after I cleared security, so we kissed one last time before I turned and headed home.
The summer sunset gleamed through the window of the plane as I buckled into seat 1A, the same place I occupied on every flight. The first-class location was another nonnegotiable item Killian had insisted on in my SGC contract. When I’d questioned the extravagance, he’d growled that if his fairy queen insisted on commercial flights, he insisted she fly in front, and there’d be no argument. I’d known better than to reply with anything more than a thankful kiss.
A private driver waited for me at Lindberg Field when I arrived in San Diego, loading me up in no time. During the drive through the city, I turned on my phone, not shocked to see three text messages waiting for me. I slowly smiled. No matter how many surprises the man wielded, in some ways, he was breathtakingly predictable. I knew what the texts would say before even reading the screen.
I.
Must.
See you again.
And we lived happily ever after.
For now.
Continue the Secrets of Stone Series with Book Two
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Excerpt from No More Masquerade: Secrets of Stone Book Two
Chapter One
The world was exploding.
It was my usual reaction when getting swarmed by the paparazzi and their flashbulbs. It probably wouldn’t ever change. I wasn’t sure I wanted it to. Did anyone ever get used to this?
Eight months after I’d publicly become Killian Stone’s girlfriend, the shutterbugs still enjoyed tracking me down when photo ops were thin up north in LA. Their latest opportunity—and a Fellini-like horror straight from my nightmares—occurred on a Saturday morning when I got home with groceries in my arms, a sloppy ponytail on my head, and my rattiest beach shorts paired with a faded Queen T-shirt. The tee was a classic, Mercury not Lambert, so I could get away with the rip in the right sleeve.
“Good morning, Claire. You look great, girlfriend. Give us a smile? Just one?”
“Guys,” I protested, “aren’t the Oscars in a few weeks? There has to be someone in Hollywood being fitted or waxed or plucked—or whatever they do to get ready for that stuff. You have to know where all the salons are, right?”
“Pffft. They all hire private stylists now. We’re not getting anything before the red carpet these days.”
“It’s a beautiful Saturday morning,” I persisted, “and we’re only going to have this Indian summer for a few more days. Take the day off. Go to the beach. I give you permission.”
They chuckled. Then kept clicking away.
“Speaking of you and the permissions you grant… You’ve captivated Stone longer than any woman before. Will there be a ring on that left hand soon, Claire?”
My gut clenched. It wasn’t as though I hadn’t been asked the question before. I was sure Killian had been asked twice as many times. But he wasn’t getting down on one knee until a lot more of mine were answered. Until he exposed those shadows I could still see in the depths of his gaze…
“Answer’s the same, Hal.” I shrugged. “No comment. Can you make yourself useful and shut my car door, please?”
“Need it locked?”
“It’ll do that by itself.”
Of course it did. The winter white Audi A8 did everything on its own except yell at idiot drivers and levitate over traffic jams. After Killian had given it to me, I’d told him my name wasn’t Captain Picard and refused to drive the thing for a month. But then he’d driven me in it for a long weekend in Santa Barbara. And had shown me how it detected every Starbucks within a five-mile radius. And had given me a couple of hours in its back seat, parked in a eucalyptus grove overlooking Goleta Beach, that still made parts of me tremble with desire…
Now I needed a cold shower.
I settled for a glass of ice water, retrieved after putting away the groceries and enjoyed on my favorite chair in the house, an old leather recliner I’d had since college. The chair joined the Napa-style décor in my rented Mission Hills bungalow, where I’d lived since graduating. I didn’t care that planes flew overhead at all hours of the day and night. The neighborhood was my favorite part of the city and the chair my favorite part of the house. It was like a friend who knew all my warts and still loved me. It was just what I needed right now. A reminder of closeness on its most basic level.
Exactly what I was missing with Killian now.
I sighed. This feeling sucked. He’d given me so much already, and I didn’t mean the material things. While being his queen was sometimes like walking through a luxury-living magazine, all of it was simply background to the magnificence of him. His power, grace, sensuality, intensity…all of it enthralling me more with every minute we spent together, even if it was over the miles and especially if it was face-to-face. With every consuming kiss, every sinful look, and every tingling touch, I gave the man more of my heart.
It scared me.
Too good to be true.
How many times were those words more right than wrong?
The doorbell couldn’t have butted in with better timing.
I gratefully left my insecurities behind in the chair, despite the discomfort of what I faced. I liked Hal and his buddies, but having to shoo them off like magazine salesmen wasn’t fun.
My door didn’t have a peephole, but I slid back the small peek-a-boo door set into the heavy wood, checking it really was Hal and not somebody selling money-saving solar panels.
I blinked in surprise. No Hal. A small woman stood on the porch, neatly groomed and shyly smiling. I tried to make out the logo on her T-shirt, but the sun blasted me in the eye, bouncing off the neighbor’s clay-tile roof from across the street.
“Can I…help you?”
She nodded quickly. “Hi. I’m Christina. From Mystic Maids?”
“Well, I’m mystified.” I laughed, unable to help myself. She’d pitched it over the plate, but I was still down in the count. I hadn’t hired a cleaning service. She glanced at her paperwork, clearly certain she was at the right address.
We stood there trying to figure each other out…and then it hit me.
Killian.
“Dear Lord.” I unlocked and then opened the door. “Please come in. Christina, right?” I looked back over my shoulder while the young woman followed me in.
“Do you mind if I put my lunch in your refrigerator?” She was so adorable. It was going to kill me to tell her she wouldn’t be here long enough to eat the meal.
“Listen, Christina…I didn’t actually hire you. While I’m sure you do a great job, and I appreciate you coming all the way over here…” I grimaced as her eyebrows met in confusion. “Please, if you can sit tight while I make a quick phone call to my over-the-top boyfriend, we’ll get this straightened out.”
On cue, Justin Timberlake’s “Sexy Back” blasted from my phone. Heat crawled across my face. Christina giggled. Again, endearing to the power of ten. Damn it, she was growing on me by the minute.
“Speak of the devil.”
I gave her a commiserating wink. “Excuse me for one sec.”
I picked up the call after walking into the front sitting room.
“Good morning, fairy queen. How’s my girl today?”
God, he was so perfect.
And frustrating.
“Good morning to you too. I was just about to call you.” I caught Christina starting to move things in the kitchen, dusting into the corners. Better talk fast, girlfriend.
“Oh, yeah?” His voice descended to a growl that would tempt a nun. “Were you dreaming about me again? Wait while I close my office door and you can tell me all about it.”
“Why are you in the office on a Saturday?”
“And you’re not working today?”
“Not…right at the moment.”
“The door’s closed. Better idea. Let me video call you. Then you can act out your dream for me. Go to the bedroom. I’ll wait.”
I swore I could hear his eyebrows waggling across the line. It made my blood dance in delicious ways. A lot of things mesmerized me about the man, but his lighthearted side neared the top of the list. He showed it to so few, and it made me kind of swoony to think I was the leader of that privileged crowd. I liked that position. A lot.
Where the hell was I?
Frustrating. Him. Same sentence.
“We have to switch to serious for a minute.”
“Okay, but only a minute.”
“This girl showed up at my house this morning. From Mystic Maids?”
“Hmm. Good. She’s right on time. They came recommended for their thoroughness and punctuality.”
“So you not only hired a service but researched the whole thing.”
“Yes and yes.”
“Damn it, Kil.”
“What? The new acquisition has been a boatload of extra work for your team. And with the unexpected damage control from Father’s episode, added to your propensity for perfection…you’ve been working too fucking hard.”