A Taste of You (6 page)

Beckett reached in my closet and pulled out several items, holding them up to form an outfit. “How about this?”

I had to admit that the outfit had potential. “I don’t know…” I could feel my lips curving into a smile. I could see what Beckett was going for, and it wasn’t bad. It wasn’t bad at all.

*****

An hour later, I walked into Willowgrass looking hot. I didn’t need anyone to tell me. I knew it. Beckett had impeccable taste, and his styling was always spot-on. Even I couldn’t argue with his choice for the evening. I’d slid into the sleek, fitted leather pants I had worn only one time since I bought them, the tissue-thin, metallic silver tank top, and the vintage man’s tuxedo jacket like I’d worn the outfit a thousand times. To top it off, I wore black stiletto booties. I never in a million years would have thought to put these pieces together, but when Beckett did it, I looked amazing.

What Beckett didn’t know—or maybe he did—was that underneath I was equally sexy. I had on my favorite dove grey La Perla bra with embroidered cups that had the added advantage of pushing my breasts up, giving me notable cleavage. Yes, my girls were really standing out tonight. I had on the tiny matching thong that went with the bra. If Stormy Eyes could only see me in this… not that I cared what he thought. Much.

Willowgrass was crowded and loud and filled with beautiful people. Music reverberated through the space, and the bass blended with the voices of Chicago’s hippest as they mingled and celebrated Ben Lee’s new venture. Beckett yelled above the roar that he would find me a drink and disappeared into the crowd.

I shifted from one foot to the other, never sure what to do at these events or whom to talk to. Handsome waiters circled with trays of Ben’s creations. I recognized all the dishes, and my stomach growled. Now that I wasn’t working with the food, and Beckett wasn’t spraying it with chemicals to make it shiny, I definitely wanted to taste it again. Then the hair on my arms prickled, and I gave a slight shiver. When I turned, I found William Lambourne standing beside me. He just appeared, seemingly out of nowhere. He gave me a wolfish grin, and his grey eyes were full of… hunger. I couldn’t stop my gaze from sliding over him. He looked amazing in a classic, slim black suit. I could tell without seeing the tag that it was expensive. Very expensive. He’d paired it with a blue spread collar shirt and a meridian blue tie that set off his stormy eyes. I made the mistake of looking into his eyes then and caught my breath.

Those gorgeous eyes looked particularly turbulent, so much so that I had trouble catching my breath. I really couldn’t remember seeing a man I would have called beautiful, but that’s what this man was. He was beautiful. I had the fiercest urge to reach out and caress the plane of his cheek, trail my fingers down his arm, and feel his hard, toned bicep flex and release. Even as I had the thought, he acted.

This happened in about thirty seconds, so to anyone observing it must have looked like I was standing there, staring. “I’m so glad to see you here tonight, Catherine. Why don’t you come with me?” He purred this into my ear, and then he kissed me gently on the cheek. It was unexpected and almost sweet, and the gesture turned me on as much as it stunned me. And then I caught his scent. This time I could identify it—a heady mix of smoky whiskey and cinnamon on his breath. I had never smelled something so delicious. I was already slayed, liquid inside, and ready to do whatever he asked.

I felt the pressure of his hand on my lower back, warm and solid, dangerously close to the curve of my ass, and the boom of the bass was drowned by the thrumming of blood in my ears. I didn’t resist and was expertly propelled forward through the packed room, the crowds parting as though we were royalty. And maybe that’s what William Lambourne was: Chicago royalty.

I caught Beckett’s eye as I was escorted to the back of the restaurant. He was holding two drinks, but he set one down and gave me an unabashed thumbs up and a huge smile. I felt my cheeks heat, but I rolled my eyes and kept walking.

William—Stormy Eyes—I didn’t know what to call him since we still hadn’t been formally introduced—directed me to an open space at the end of the bar. Wonder of wonders, there were two open bar stools. Imagine that. In a place as packed as this, two seats were waiting. I barely had time to climb into my chair before the bartender set two drinks in front of Stormy Eyes. William nodded and slid one drink in front of me. He leaned close, and there was that dizzying scent again. “It’s bourbon. Three fingers. Neat. It’s meant to be sipped,” he murmured, his voice low and velvet soft. “Let it linger in your mouth and heat up, then swallow. You’ll feel the warmth right here.” He leaned and touched my chest above the valley between my breasts. I jumped. I didn’t expect him to touch me there, and even without sipping the bourbon, I could feel the heat building in me. How did he do that? How did he make taking a drink sound so sexual? I warmed just from the sexy timbre of his voice. Part of me wanted to do exactly what he said. Part of me wanted, desperately, to see what would happen next.

Another part of me glared. Another part of me seethed, unable to believe the nerve of this guy. Billionaire or not, no man had the right to drag me through a party, corner me, and then order me to drink something I didn’t even order. Brown liquor and I weren’t friends, and when I had indulged in the past—okay, admittedly too many shots of Jack Daniel’s at a college party probably didn’t compare with whatever pricy elixir was in the glass in front of me—it hadn’t gone well. I leveled my gaze at him. “I don’t know if this is your attempt at an apology, but it sucks.” What the hell. I lifted the glass, slammed down the bourbon in one swallow—no point in wasting it—and with my eyes watering, tried to rise from my stool, intent on making this the last of my encounters with Stormy Eyes. I wasn’t ready for this or for him.

The pressure of William’s hand on my thigh halted me. Firmly, he pushed me into my seat. “I clearly offended you the other day,” he said, his fingers spreading. “Believe me when I say, I’m not usually so forward. Catherine.”

I could feel the liquor coursing through me, and I looked at his hand, still on my thigh. “Yes, I can see you’re the shy, retiring type, Mr. Lambourne.”

He laughed, a full, rich sound that reverberated, heating me up more than the bourbon. “I admit, I value directness. Sometimes I’m too direct, but subtlety has never been my style.” Another bourbon appeared before me, but I didn’t touch it. I couldn’t look away from those eyes. “Please, call me William. Or Will, if you like. Mr. Lambourne is a little too formal, don’t you think?”

I narrowed my eyes, and he gave me an innocent look.

“I’m glad you’re here. I want you to stay.” He continued talking. “Catherine, I like you. Very much. I promise, I’m going to be on my best behavior from now on.”

How could he possibly think that he liked me when he didn’t know me? I was trying to make sense of what he’d said while feeling the effect of the bourbon, and then a voice said from behind us, “I see you’ve finally met!”

I turned and saw Amanda smiling.

“William Lambourne, this is Catherine Kelly. She’s a wonderful photographer. Catherine, this is William Lambourne, and William is...” She hesitated, “Well, William is incorrigible.”

“Thank you, Miss Lee,” William said, cutting her off before she could say more.

With a grin, Amanda strode away.

“So, is
incorrigible a job description?” I asked. “Or do you have another title? I didn’t think being bad was an actual profession.” I couldn’t believe I was bantering like this, as I was more the stunned into silence type, not the witty comeback type.

He sipped his bourbon. “I have titles, but I won’t bore you. And Amanda’s exaggerating. I’m hardly beyond reform. Anyway, I’m more interested in finding out about you, Catherine.” The way he said my name made a lump rise in my throat. His tongue rolled over the word slowly. “I understand you’re new to Chicago. What brought you here?”

I couldn’t do this. I couldn’t play the game, allow myself to think this could go somewhere. So I blurted it out. “Listen, I’m really not interested in whatever it is you have in mind. I should go find my friend.” I started to rise from my seat again, but his firm pressure on my thigh increased, and he pushed me down.

“Catherine, you have no idea what I have in mind. If you want to find your friend, alright. But before you do, I’d like to make sure that I see you again.”

“Why?” I tried hard to hold to my defenses, but that hot, liquid feeling raged through me as I watched his gaze narrow.

He gave me his knowing look. “We have a connection. You know it, and so do I.”

“I don’t know anything,” I lied.

He leaned forward. “Do you know what I’d do right now if we were alone?”

The idea of being alone with him made me tremble slightly, and I reminded myself to breathe. “I thought you were behaving.”

There was that boyish grin again. I really liked that grin. “You have no idea how well I am behaving, Catherine. If we were alone, I’d peel you out of those leather pants. Taking my time. I’ve been trying to imagine what you’re wearing underneath, and it’s driving me crazy. I want to strip you down and touch your breasts.”

I really couldn’t believe I was sitting there listening to him. Even worse, he was making me hot. My nipples hardened with arousal, aching for his touch, and I’m sure he noticed. I had to make a conscious effort not to push my arms against them to ease the tingling.

“You have exquisite breasts. Do you know that?”

I didn’t answer. My breasts felt heavy and sensitive from his gaze alone.

“I want my mouth on them. I want to kiss them, suckle them, and roll those hard nipples over my tongue. Would you like that, Catherine? Would you like it if I put my mouth on you?”

I couldn’t answer. I didn’t have the words. While he spoke, his warm hand made gentle circles on my thigh, the rhythm steady and erotic. I sipped the second bourbon without thinking. I needed something to do, something to wet my parched throat.

“You seem like a man accustomed to getting what you want,” I said finally, trying not to think about the stroke of his hand. I could feel the heat from his touch radiating higher and higher, pressing between my legs, making me throb.

“I always get what I want, Catherine. I always get exactly what I want.”

“Is that sort of bravado supposed to be sexy? You won’t get me.” Oh, what was I doing?
Yes, yes, yes
was like a chorus in my head, but I couldn’t let this happen, let anything happen. As much as I responded, I wasn’t ready.

He shrugged. “I do love a challenge, but I can see you want me. Why don’t you just give in?”

I sipped the bourbon again. “It’s tempting.”

“There’s nothing wrong with giving into temptation now and again.”

“You’re tempting.” I couldn’t believe I’d said that. I never talked like this.

He reached out and ran a finger down my cheek. “Catherine, you have no idea the ways I could tempt you.”

“I don’t do one-night stands or the fuck-buddy thing. I don’t do
just
sex, William. And I’m not relationship material.” Who was I kidding? I didn’t
do
anything, and I really didn’t know what I might do or even what I wanted to do. Beckett said I should have fun, but I didn’t think I could, now that fun was staring me in the face and had told me he wanted to put my nipples in his mouth.

He looked nonplussed. “We can work something out. Think about it, Catherine. I can take care of you and give you what you need. Right now, you’re cold. Chicago isn’t nearly as warm as Santa Cruz. Let me take you to a warm, wet beach. Say the word, and we can go tonight.”

I stared, the haze of arousal and bourbon clearing. “Wait a minute. You know I’m from Santa Cruz?”

“It’s not a secret.”

I grabbed his hand, halting the maddening circles on my thigh. “What else do you know?”

I saw a flicker of a shield in his eyes now, a grey shadow in the otherwise blue depths. He didn’t say anything but kept rubbing my thigh. I moved to push his hand away.

“Do you know where I live?”

He didn’t answer.

“What else?” I jumped from the bar stool. “My parents’ names? Where I went to school?” Oh, my God. I couldn’t believe I’d let this whole thing go this far. What had I been thinking? I wasn’t ready for a relationship, and I certainly wasn’t ready for a relationship with a man who aroused me more than I cared to admit and frightened me too. If he could find out where I lived and where I was from, what else could he find out?

I wasn’t ready. Before he could stop me or touch me, hypnotizing me once again, I jumped from my seat and stalked toward the kitchen. I knew the restaurant layout, and the kitchen was close. I could easily duck out the back door and find a cab. That was Rational Cat thinking. That was the Cat I needed. I could call Beckett from the cab, assure him I was fine, go home, and go to bed.

No more William Lambourne. No more Stormy Eyes.

Four

The deafening clatter of plates clinking against one another, the hiss of the stove, and the shouts of the line cooks assaulted my ears as I stepped into the kitchen. It was jumping with waiters queuing to fill their trays with Willowgrass’s delicious food, workers washing dishes and stacking dry ones next to the food prep areas, and Ben’s sous chef calling out orders as he expedited. It took me a moment to recognize Ben, who was dressed for the party rather than the kitchen tonight. But it was clear he was in charge. He stood to one side, coolly surveying everything, but he didn’t see me. It sounded as though demand for Ben’s creations had exceeded expectation. The opening was a success, and I was happy for Ben and Amanda.

But I wanted to go home. I wanted to get away from William Lambourne and his stormy eyes, skilled hands, and velvet words. He was affecting my better judgment. I couldn’t let that happen.

I wouldn’t let it happen.

And I really thought I’d gotten away, but I’d taken only a dozen steps when my skin prickled with awareness. I turned, and
he
was there, standing in the doorway, looking angry and sexy at the same time. I had the urge to run, but I couldn’t make my feet move. Instead, I stood rooted in place while William took three large strides across the kitchen to stand before me. Even with the mouthwatering mix of scents from the food cooking, I could smell his unique scent. It made me hungry, but not for comfort food. No, there was nothing comforting about the way he looked at me.

Without a word, he took my arm and pulled me aside. I wouldn’t have been able to hear him above the clatter and clink of dishes, but he might have made an effort to speak. A refreshing cold and sudden silence descended, and I had a moment to realize we were in the walk-in cooler before his hot mouth descended. As soon as his lips touched me, I was his.

He didn’t ask, he didn’t hesitate, he merely took, and I couldn’t help but offer myself to him. His lips, his tongue, the way he slanted his mouth over mine, claiming me completely, made my knees weak. I think I moaned or whimpered, but I didn’t object. I should have been cold, standing in a freezer in only my jacket and thin tank top. I should have been turned off by the slabs of meat and the stacks of fish surrounding me. Instead, I was burning up, fevered with want. I couldn’t get enough of William’s mouth, his tongue, his body against mine.

And suddenly, I didn’t care if we were in a freezer. I didn’t care that he was an arrogant ass with a filthy mouth. I didn’t care that I didn’t want a relationship right now. All I cared about was the slow burn moving through my body as William kissed me. I hadn’t expected his kiss to be ordinary, and I wasn’t disappointed. He knew how to tease, nipping at my lips with teeth and tongue, giving me a taste of what I hungered for before pulling back.

I fisted my hands in his hair and pulled him closer, sucking on his tongue, pressing my body against his, feeling his warmth and hardness. I was aware of every inch of his tall, athletic body, especially his hard thighs, which brushed against mine, and the more we kissed, the more I abandoned myself to pure sensation. With a groan, he pushed me against one of the shelves, and I felt the cold metal through the material of my tuxedo jacket. But it didn’t penetrate. Nothing penetrated except the heat of William’s body and the taste of his mouth. He was bourbon and cinnamon and sex.

Our tongues dueled, vying for dominance, and I felt my control slipping farther and farther. I lost it completely when William turned gentle on me. He cupped my face in his hands, drew back, and then whispered in a dark voice strained with need, “I knew I was right. I knew it would be like this. You should really listen to me, Catherine.” Then he kissed me with such skill and such sweetness that if it hadn’t been for the below freezing temperature, I would have melted into steam. His lips brushed mine, sending sparks of heat spiraling through me. Warm, delicious tendrils of pleasure infused me from the tips of my fingertips to my toes. My heart thundered, and my hips rhythmically arched forward and pressed into his. I wanted to feel his hand between my thighs. I wanted to feel his fingers probe and press and slide inside me the way his tongue had slid inside my mouth. He flicked his tongue across my lips, and I wanted his tongue on me too.

I moaned. My body betrayed me, and I could no longer control the sounds of pleasure I was making. His tongue stroked mine, filling my mouth, stroking me in a rhythm, a pattern I knew well. I clutched at his lapels, needing more and wanting more. So much more—

“Sorry to interrupt…”

I ripped myself away from William, feeling bereft as soon as we parted. Suddenly, the cold of the freezer washed over me, and I shivered. I darted my gaze to a line cook standing in the doorway and closed my eyes in mortification. The kid couldn’t have been older than twenty, and he looked a bit chagrined. William, on the other hand, was all composure. “It’s all yours,” he said, pulling me out of the freezer.

Suddenly, we were surrounded by sound and fury again, but it was a blur. My head spun as he pulled me through the restaurant, outside, and onto the sidewalk in front. The January night air bit into my skin, and that’s what snapped me back to reality. Part of me wanted to slide against William, steal his warmth and heat, but I kept my distance.

This wasn’t what I wanted, I reminded myself.

He
wasn’t what I wanted.

My God, I didn’t know him, and I had been making out with him in a freezer in the middle of a party. I wasn’t ready. I didn’t want a relationship—or whatever this might be—with a man who went through women like I went through camera batteries. I was an emotional wreck, and as much as I’d enjoyed myself in the freezer, I couldn’t do this. Okay, maybe I could, but I shouldn’t. Time to put a stop to this.

“I can have a car here in less than thirty seconds,” William said, pushing me against the wall of the building and into the shadows while nuzzling my neck.. “Say the word, Catherine, and we can take this where we both want it to go.”

I opened my mouth, but my lips felt bruised and tender. I couldn’t speak. He ran his thumb over my bottom lip. His eyes were a liquid grey that told me he was aroused. “You know, you make me do things, think things. Do you even know how fucking hot I am for you?” He reached down and adjusted himself, and even in the darkness, I could see he had an impressive erection. I’d made him that aroused? I’d made him want me that much?

“I can’t,” I said, but I didn’t sound convincing.

“You can,” he murmured, his warm breath at my neck. “And you will. This is just the beginning, Catherine. I’m going to have you.” His fingers caressed mine, moving in slow, tantalizing circles. “We are going fuck in more ways than you can imagine. And I’m going to show you pleasure you didn’t know existed.”

Oh, my God—more dirty talk. I shuddered because I liked it when he talked to me like that. I guess I appreciated directness too.

This was not what I wanted, I reminded myself. “I don’t even know you,” I protested weakly.

“You know me. Your body knows me. You think this kind of reaction happens every day? We’re going to happen, Catherine. It’s inevitable. Why wait?”

I knew he was right. There was something extraordinary simmering between us, chemistry I’d never felt before, not even with Jace. And with that one thought, all the sadness crashed down.

I shut my eyes tightly. “No.” I shook my head, keeping my eyes closed. One look at his intense eyes, and I would lose my resolve. “I can’t do this.” I pushed away from the wall of the restaurant, stepping toward the curb and raising my hand for a cab.

“Fuck,” William cursed behind me. I heard the frustration in his tone, but then he stepped beside me, whistled, and a cab pulled to the curb. He opened the door, and I thought he might climb in beside me, but he shut it as soon as I was in. Instead, he leaned in the window, told the driver my address, and handed him what looked like a hundred.

“I have money,” I protested.

He ignored me. “Take her home. Safely.” Then he stepped back, shoved his hands in his pockets, and fixed his turbulent gaze on mine. Our eyes locked, the connection unbroken until he faded in the darkness as the cab pulled away.

The ride was blissfully silent and the driver quiet. I didn’t want to talk. I didn’t want to talk to anyone. My nerves were raw, and my whole body craved release. I was edgy and frustrated, flustered and confused. I’d had to run, though walking away from the sexual magnetism of William Lambourne was one of the most difficult things I’d ever done. I couldn’t have stayed. The feelings were too intense, my reaction too raw. He made me forget everything, and I couldn’t allow that to happen.

I grabbed my phone from my purse and texted Beckett that I was in a cab on my way home.

Immediately, he texted back.
Alone?

Yes
.
Yoga tomorrow?

Hell, yes. I want details.

I shoved the phone back in my purse. Details? I was hot, frustrated, and completely in lust with a man I didn’t know. And I’d just told him I couldn’t do what he wanted, what we both wanted. I closed my eyes and leaned my head against the seat. I could feel William’s hands on my face, taste the bourbon on his tongue, and feel his hard body pushed against mine.

It was going to be a long night.

*****

The next morning I met a bleary-eyed Beckett at our usual Bikram yoga class. Beckett and I were in the back, and we’d just finished our stretches. It was one hundred and five degrees in the room, and we were slicked with sweat. Beckett looked like he’d stayed out too late, and I was glad I’d left the party early. My black mat was beside his grey one as we bent our knees for the Awkward Pose. I was dressed in black Lululemon boogie shorts, a pink and black sports bra, and nothing else.

We shifted into Eagle Pose, and I breathed deeply. I’d always loved yoga. It centered me and made me feel cleansed. Today, I really needed to feel centered. I hadn’t slept well last night. Big surprise. My thoughts had kept returning to Mr. Billionaire and the walk-in cooler. Even in this incredible heat, I could still feel the cold air and William’s fingers caressing my skin.

“Are you cold, Cat?” Beckett murmured. He was supposed to have his eyes closed. The instructor was saying something about a meadow and deep breathing, and we should have been listening.

“Just thinking about last night.”

“Oh, really?” The rest of the class shifted into Standing Head to Knee Pose, and we followed. “The memories are that good, huh?” Beckett wobbled, and I struggled to find my balance.

“So a bourbon, neat, magically appeared after he seated you at the bar?” Beckett said, recapping our discussion before class.

“He didn’t exactly seat me. He didn’t give me a lot of choice.” My leg trembled from the effort it took to hold the position, and I grit my teeth. The instructor would have been so disappointed.

“A man who knows what he wants and goes for it,” Beckett said, sliding into a Standing Bow. He was in the zone now. “I like it.”

So did I, much to my chagrin. Through the Balancing Stick and the Triangle and the Tree Pose, I filled Beckett in on the rest of the evening, and when I finished he looked thoughtful—not an easy feat in the Toe Stand Pose. “So… would you have gone all the way?”

“Huh?” I was struggling to get my ankle on top of my knee. There. Balance… balance.

“Would you have fucked him in the deep freeze?”

My leg buckled, and I went down on my bottom with a thud. The instructor frowned at me, and Beckett grinned, while managing to look at peace. His blond hair was plastered to his head, and his muscles were standing out from the tension of holding the pose. I wondered what William would look like all hot and sweaty.

“He’s right, you know,” Beckett said when we were lying on our backs.

“About what?”

“About the chemistry. That kind of attraction doesn’t happen every day. Look at me. I’ve been trying to find it for years. And every time I think I’ve found Mr. Hot and Heavy, he ends up scorching me.”

I reached across our mats and took Beckett’s hand. “You’re going to find the right guy, Beckett. You just need to stop looking in bars.”

“It worked for you!”

“It didn’t work for me. I’m not seeing him again.”

“Oh, yes, you are! You can’t drop him. Not until you fuck him. I have to hear all about how William Lambourne is in bed.”

“Beckett!” We were close, but there were some things I couldn’t imagine sharing in detail.

“No, seriously, Cat.” His expression sobered. “He’s the perfect guy for you.” Beckett held up a finger. “The chemistry is there.” Another finger. “He obviously wants you.” Another finger. “And he’s a commitment-phobe.”

We turned onto our bellies for the Cobra Pose. “He’s a commitment-phobe?”

“Do you know what Google is, darling? Search for commitment-phobe, and William Lambourne’s picture pops up. Okay, not literally. But that’s his thing. He’s never with one woman for long. No long-term girlfriends as far I can tell. He loves them and leaves them. He’s perfect.”

I dropped onto my mat, burying my face in the rubber and latex. “All I found on Google were a bunch of boring business articles. And exactly how is a guy who’s a commitment-phobe perfect for me?”

“You need to dig deeper. But more importantly, you need a rebound guy.”

I shook my head. “No. I just can’t, Beckett.”

“Cat,” Beckett said, dropping his pose too. “It’s okay to get on with your life. You have to move on at some point. It’s been three years.”

I’d heard all this before, and logically, I knew Beckett was right, but that didn’t change the way I felt inside. I didn’t want to look at Beckett so I moved into the Locust Pose. “I’m not ready.”

“You’re ready. Besides, you’ll never know if you don’t give it a shot. A rebound guy is a good way to test the waters.”

“I’ve never had a rebound guy before.”

“You never needed one before. You do now.”

“Why?”

Beckett threw his arms back, forming the Full Locust Pose. “For the hot sex! You use Stormy Eyes for all the hot sex you can handle and then move on. No strings, no attachments, just fun.” He dropped the pose and sat, his expression serious. “Honey, you need a little fun now and then. Or a lot of fun
now
!”