KILLIAN: A Mafia Romance (The Callahans Book 2) (81 page)

              “I’m not going to try to convince you. Do what you think is best,” he said as though he was barely thinking straight. “But I am clean, and if you say you are then I trust you.”

              Suddenly Rose noticed the limousine slowing and turning off the bridge and into the city of Seattle. Realizing they’d reach their destination in a matter of minutes compelled her to be impulsive in a way she never had before, and she thrust down, feeling his every inch fill her, as she moaned in response.

              Taylor’s arms were wrapping tightly around her, and she breathed in the scent of his hair as she thrust quickly, stirring up heat and friction, his thick erection sliding back and forth inside her. She felt hot enough to explode, and as he shifted back, pitching his hips up and finding the magic position that had sent her over the edge last night, Rose felt a surge of heat and arousal flood through her loins at the very anticipation that he’d bring her there again.

              “Taylor, why are you so perfect?” she whispered, quickening her pace and relishing the buzz that flared through her every time her clit met with the firm curve of his pelvis.

              He laughed and tipped his chin up for a kiss, then asked, “Can I come with you again?”

              “Come inside me?”

              “I don’t have to.”

              Why was the thought of him coming inside her insanely hot? Ordinarily, she’d never allow that, but ordinarily, she always used a condom.

              “I don’t know,” she said breathlessly. It was true she was on the pill, but it wasn’t a guarantee, or was it? She couldn’t think straight to make a decision one way or the other. She was entirely lost to the building heat deep inside her.

              He told her, “That’s okay. I’ll pull out.”

              “It’s building,” she whispered, slowing her pace and lingering every time he filled her completely, the hard tip of his erection meeting with firm, hot resistance deep inside.

              As she worked a slower rhythm, she glanced down at Taylor, who closed his eyes in some kind of concentration that made her smile. She kissed his mouth, and he pursed his full lips, reciprocating.

              “Damn you,” she whispered, as a huge surge shimmied through her. “You’re making me come.”

              “Yeah?” he said, looking up at her through a knit brow as though it was taking every shred of willpower he had not to climax with her. “Let go, baby.”

              “Oh,” she moaned, as a powerful orgasm swept through her, her head arching back and her hips thrusting quicker and quicker, as she rode the crest of pleasure.

              When she returned her eyes to Taylor, slowing the pace again, his jaw clenched. “God, you’re killing me,” he said.

              She knew she should slide off, but she twined her fingers through his hair instead, forcing him to look up at her.

              “Shut down your pipeline and you can come inside me as much as you want,” she said.

              He laughed. “I was hoping we wouldn’t have to fight dirty,” he said. “Babe, I can’t hold off much longer.”

              Teasing him, she began thrusting again.

              “Rose, really,” he warned with a smile. “You don’t know what you’re doing to me right now.”

              She pouted, but he was too strong willed to yield to her seductive demands.

              “I won’t regret it,” he mentioned. “But I’ll be mad at myself if you do something you regret.”

              With a sigh, she eased off and slipped onto the seat beside him, and before the thought even entered her head, her lips were wrapping around his erection.

              “Oh my God, you’re dangerous,” he groaned, arching his head back and coming in her mouth.

              She squealed in surprise, then sucked, swallowing him and feeling thrilled to be in control of a sexy and powerful man’s pleasure.

              As he finished, the limousine rolled to a stop, and Taylor stroked her hair, whispering, “Come here.”

              Rose slid up and leaned into him for a kiss. After, he adjusted his slacks, buttoning them up, as she straightened her dress. Their driver opened the door, and she climbed out to find a magnificent high-rise condominium that seemed to be made entirely of glass and steel.

              “You have a place at the Escala?” she asked, as he stepped up behind her.

              “Yeah, I have a place. I also own the building.”

              The Escala was one of Seattle’s ritziest luxury buildings with a full gym, swimming pool and tennis court, boutique shops in the lobby and a five-star restaurant on the uppermost floor with an adjacent rooftop lounge. Growing up in Seattle, Rose had driven past the Escala countless times, imagining what it might be like inside, but had never set foot through its arching glass entrance.

              Taylor offered his arm, guiding her along the red carpet that stretched across the sidewalk. Two doormen immediately opened the doors for them to pass through, and soon Rose’s heels were clicking over pink marble.

              “So you won’t be in town long, but you own a building here and have an apartment?” she asked, challenging his prior assertion that whatever this was, it couldn’t possibly last long, as they stepped into one of the elevators.

              Taylor pressed the button for the fiftieth floor then angled his dark eyes down at her and a smile raised one corner of his mouth.

              “I own a lot of buildings in a lot of cities,” he explained. “Starlight is just one project I’m managing, but there are others that will require my attention.”

              “What others?” she asked, wondering if she would have to travel the country, hot on his heels, to shut down other hazardous developments—a prospect that both thrilled and daunted her.

              The elevator door slid open, and as they walked down the hallway, he mentioned, “Mostly real-estate projects, so don’t get that look in your eye.”

              But she couldn’t shake the look, even as he keyed open his suite and she followed him inside, walking through a grand living room where a lounge of brown leather furniture encompassed a broad glass table, the Seattle bay and skyline just beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows that offered a breathtaking view.

              When she reached the glass windows, she turned, glancing over her shoulder at him, as a realization dawned.

              “Communities can’t fight you, can’t object to your pipelines and fracking if you’re the landlord.”

              Taylor planted his fists on his hips, growing serious. “It’s not like that. We have no property in Bellevue.”

              “But you offered to buy homes. You know what you’re doing is terrible for the environment and residents, and you tried to get them out.”

              “You don’t see that as generous and compassionate?”

              “No, I don’t. I see it as manipulative and self-serving.”

              “Where’s the woman from the limo? I’d like to talk with her now.”

              Rose laughed.

              “Let me show you around,” he suggested. “Then we can get into our debate.”

              Agreeing was a stretch. If Rose had a gift, it was being a hard-ass, uncompromising in heated situations and determined to push her agenda for the good of all, so taking her adversary’s lead on any suggestion, no matter how small, felt like backing down. But she was curious about the suite and padded towards him, her heels clicking over the shiny, hardwood floors as she went.

              “This is my favorite thing about this building,” he said, sliding a glass door open that led to a balcony.

              Rose followed him out, the warm morning sun kissing her face and shimmering off the bay. The panoramic view was impressive. Stepping up behind her as she gripped the brass railing, he wrapped his arms around her waist and rested his cheek against the side of her head, holding her.

              “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

              Nodding, she said, “How long have you owned this building?”

              He hesitated, lacing his fingers in front of her stomach. “Just a few years. Ever since my medical career ended, my father has passed down to me a number of real-estate properties and development projects.”

              Taylor didn’t go into detail about what actually happened to end his career, but she sensed he wanted to.

              “You didn’t want to go into teaching?” she asked when he didn’t elaborate. “You could’ve been a professor and stayed in the medical field.”

              He grew quiet, so she turned, facing him.

              “This is my life,” he said in a low tone. “I’ve reserved the rooftop for us. Are you hungry?”

              He had her pinned against the railing, his hips pressing against her, his hands holding her back firmly. Resisting wasn’t easy, and part of her wanted to allow him to sweep her up into his world, being wined and dined and throwing caution to the wind. But Rose had come here for a reason.

              “When are we going to talk?”

              “Whenever you want,” he said easily. “After we eat. Before.”

              “Before,” she said. “Lead the way.”

              She tried not to gaze longingly at his four-poster bed as they passed the bedroom rounding through the hallway. The very thought of having him all to herself between the sheets was enough to disarm her, but by the time they stepped into the elevator, riding it two flights higher, the urge had passed.

              When the door slid open with a ding, she stepped out onto the rooftop garden where lounge chairs were clustered around various glass tables and a bartender was waiting eagerly behind a long, oak bar. The hostess, a young woman wearing a black cocktail dress, her blond hair slicked up into a high ponytail, greeted them then escorted them to a table near the glass wall that lined the perimeter.

              As they sat, Taylor asked her for two coffees, and Rose mentioned she’d like cream and sugar in hers. The hostess returned with their drinks a minute later.

              “So did you want to start, or should I?” she asked.

              “Ladies first,” he said with an amused smile.

              “Good,” she said, gathering her thoughts and trying not to get sucked into his alluring looks. He leaned back in his chair, tilting his head and eyeing her with interest that seemed to go far beyond the points she was preparing to make.

              “The Starlight trench,” she began, “runs through Bellevue, weaving between schools and residential homes, and I get that the project obtained the necessary permits, and that you’re not in violation of veering too close to the community.”

              “Correct. We aren’t. We measured carefully.”

              “But those regulations don’t take into account how far gas could leak if the pipes erode or aren’t installed properly. A spill could contaminate drinking water. It could make people sick. Not to mention should a fire break out, the pipeline could explode.”

              “You’re talking about worst-case scenarios.”

              “I am,” she asserted. “And unfortunately, worst-case scenarios happen more than six hundred times a year. Last year, alone, seventeen people died and seventy were injured nationally. The property damage was just shy of three hundred million. Taylor, the worst-case scenarios are occurring far too frequently. And if you look at the response history of these oil companies, they aren’t doing much after the fact to help clean up, pay restitution and restore property, and prevent future spills.”

              Listening to her, Taylor’s eyes had shifted, widening in such a way that told her he hadn’t known the statistics. He drew in a deep breath as if absorbing all she’d relayed, and then took a carefully measured sip of his coffee.

              Finally, he said, “The track record of the construction company we’re using is flawless.”

              Rose held her tongue, though she wanted to jump down his throat. He’d listened to her, so she was prepared to hear him out before she poked holes in his faulty logic.

              “We have every reason to believe the build will go smoothly and without incident.” Taylor studied her scowling face. “Go on. Say what you’re dying to say.”

              “The construction company you’re using hasn’t caused any spills,” she said, warming him up by agreeing to the only point that was true about what he'd said. “However, the actual materials they use are toxic, and they’ve been getting away with it because the regulations on materials affords a lot of room for error.”

              “What are you talking about?”

              “I’m talking about the aluminum materials they use to fasten the pipe segments together. I’m talking about their sealant, which is highly flammable, as well as toxic. Do you realize that besides the one water tower, the majority of Bellevue gets their drinking water from their own wells? As soon as those pipes go into the ground, chemicals are going to leech out into the earth.”