Provocative (Tempting Book 3) (21 page)

S
ixteen Months
Later

A
s soon as
we walked through the door, I pulled Adele’s hair over one shoulder and whispered in her ear.

“Go into the room, take everything off except the cap and the shoes.”

She laughed, sex rampant in her tone. “You’re such a fucking deviant.”

But she did as I asked, walking away with a wicked smile over her shoulder at me. It wasn’t a long walk to our bedroom. We’d purchased a three-bedroom bungalow not long after she came back to me. The battered wood floors covered with bright rugs spoke to Adele’s taste. The cool paint colors and dark wood furniture spoke to mine. The kitchen had concrete countertops that we’d both agreed on, with stainless appliances and funky light fixtures that she’d fallen in love with at a thrift store. And in our bedroom, we had a massive four poster mahogany King bed frame that worked quite nicely on the occasions that we needed to tie/strap/handcuff the other person down. With unhurried hands, I loosened the silver and white striped tie around my neck and pulled it out from under the collar of my blue oxford.

She’d picked my clothes that morning, and I wasn’t going to refuse her, given that it was her graduation day. I'd snuck into the back of the building so that I could watch her cross the stage and take her diploma, shake the president’s hand and wink at the camera that was catching it to show on the widescreen mounted for ease of viewing.

That wink had been for me, and now I’d make her pay for it. Or reward her for it, rather.

While I walked through the family room, I unhooked my belt and unzipped my pants. I heard something drop onto the floor of our bedroom and it made me even harder than I’d been before. Which was saying something, since she felt me up the entire drive home.

I paused before clearing the doorway into the bedroom, taking a second to appreciate the fucking masterpiece that was our life since we got back together.

It was loud and colorful and messy and perfect. We never went to bed angry, and we definitely went to bed often. But it was more balanced with date nights and cooking classes and long weekends on the coast. It wasn’t just sex to cover our issues; it was intimacy that anchored us even more firmly together.

“Are you going to come in or should I start this party on my own?”

I grinned, striding through the door and then stopping up short.

“Fuck me. You changed your shoes, naughty girl.”

She glanced down and shrugged. “These felt more fun.”

Ha.

I couldn’t disagree that looking at Adele right now screamed that we were about to have some
fun
. She was stark naked, her tight stomach, high, perky breasts and freshly waxed landing strip only interrupted by two things: her black graduation cap and the black stilettos that had ribbons weaving up around her legs.

The criss-crossing black ribbon stopped at her knees and made her legs look eight miles long. But as
fun
as they were to look at, I could not wait until they were spread open wide for me.

“Turn around,” I said quietly. “Brace your hands on the bed and spread your legs open.”

Adele slicked her tongue across her bottom lip, eyes tripping down my body before she did it. I almost came in my fucking pants at the picture she presented.

Her tight, firm ass wiggling while she spread her legs in precisely the right position. Her straight, blonde hair cascading over one shoulder. And her legs. God. Sometimes I couldn’t believe that I got to put my hands on her.

I stepped out of my pants and used one hand to pull my shirt over my head. She was panting by the time I was behind her and ran a hand down her spine.

“Are you wet?”

She scoffed. “What do you think?”

My hand drifted down to test and I stopped briefly to press my finger against the tight pucker of skin just between her cheeks. That could come later. I slipped three fingers through her slit and hummed my approval.

“Please,” she whispered, shifting backwards so my cock pressed up against her.

“Did you think about this earlier when you crossed the stage?”

“This precise moment? No, I can’t say that I did.”

I cracked a hand on her ass, gritting my teeth at how it pinked up her skin. “Graduating college has made you mouthy. Maybe I should just go make some dinner now.”

Adele stood and whipped around, gripping my erection in a tight fist. Her eyes flamed. “Don’t even think about it.”

The fact that she literally and figuratively had me by the balls made something snap in me. Staring at her like this, with how fearless we were with each other now, loosened my tongue in a way that I’d been wanting to do for months.

“Marry me.”

Adele froze, blinking up at me. “Wh-what?”

Using one hand, I pushed her back onto the bed and crawled over her. She spread her legs naturally and I slipped inside of her in one long push. Her cap fell off her head at the force of it.

“You heard me.”

Her head arched back and I lightly bit the tender skin of her neck.

After groaning she said, “You cannot be serious right now. Who proposes during sex?”

I thrust inside of her again. “Apparently I do. Come on, baby, you know you want to.”

When she didn’t answer, I came to a stop. She shoved at my shoulder. “Nathan,” she whined. “This is bullshit. Can’t I come first and then we’ll talk about the serious stuff? Because if you ruin my orgasm with a proposal you don’t mean, I’ll fucking murder you. For both things.”

I slid in again and we both moaned. “Who says I don’t mean it?”

Then it was her turn to stop. She cupped the side of my face and stared into my eyes. “Really?”

“Really.” I dropped my head to kiss her deeply. “I love you. I want to spend my life with you. Have perfect, blonde, mouthy babies with you. Preferably with green eyes. Why shouldn’t we start now?”

When she blinked again, a tear slid down her temple into her hairline. Her voice was shaky when she answered. “Well then, I say hell yes, I’ll marry you.”

We kissed, laughing and smiling while we did. The most overwhelming sense of peace lit me up from the inside while I wrapped myself around her.

Despite everything stacked against us, we’d ended up here.

Adele raised an eyebrow at me. “Who told you to stop moving?”

My bossy little girl. Our life would never be dull.

And I couldn’t fucking wait.

N
athan and Adele’s
journey is complete, and I cannot thank you enough for joining me for it. But Elias still has a story that I want to tell. Please keep reading for a sneak peek of
Addicted
, Elias and Ruby’s story, which is due to release in October 2016.

*
E
xcerpt is
unedited and subject to change prior to release*

I
arrived twenty minutes early
, scoping out the hotel’s lounge and reception for the usual suspects. I didn’t frequent the same places in order to avoid suspicion, which kept my guard up and my eyes alert. These were important things to remember.

The lobby bathroom was decked out, black marble for miles, with itty specks that sparkled under the low lighting. I touched up my makeup and reapplied deodorant and lip stain. I gargled the mouthwash I’d brought, double checking that I had a toothbrush and floss for later. After smearing a good lot of lotion across my arms, I grabbed the hand sanitizer from my bag and squirted a glob of it into my palms. I didn’t want to dry out my hands with the hotel-provided soap.

Ten minutes to go.

I left the bathroom for the lounge and idly looked over the heads of the patrons.

Tall, dark, and bearded. That’s what he’d told me. It wasn’t much to go on, but he’d also let me know he’d sit beside an aquarium if he arrived first. I debated going to the bar for a beverage when I didn't see him there. I usually brought my flask, filled with only a shot’s worth of vodka to keep my head level but still enough to chill my nerves. But in my haste to get downtown and not have to walk seven blocks to the hotel in my black stilettos, I’d forgotten the flask on my kitchen countertop.

It didn’t matter how many times I did this, I was always a little bit nervous.

As my eyes searched the lounge, I became aware of a gentleman at the bar, who was staring at me unabashedly.

Refusing to meet his eyes, I made my way to another side of the bar while I waited. I pulled out my phone just to make sure I didn’t have a text message from him informing me he was late before tucking it away. I didn’t need my phone as a distraction right now.

The bartender set a fruity-looking drink in front of me. The maraschino cherry on top bled into the whipped cream and I stared at it like the unwelcome intrusion it was.

“From the gentleman down there,” the bartender said in a low voice as he cocked his head to the blond-haired man who’d been ogling me when I walked in. I regretted flicking my eyes to him because in doing so, I had to see the way he stared at me.

There was no doubt that the dress I wore showed off my assets—it was why I’d worn it. It was black, with an opaque panel that covered my breasts and lower half. The panel was open between my breasts, but it wasn’t totally indecent, because over the panel was black lace fabric that covered the opening all the way up to my neck, stopping at my shoulders to leave my arms bare. The dress came to mid-thigh, and with my simple earrings and my midnight-black hair braided in one plait over my shoulder, nothing about me screamed that I was asking for attention. Especially not from the blond man, and his slug-like lips.

Ignoring the drink, I looked to the entrance for the man I was meeting, but felt a little spike of urgency in my blood when the drink-buyer stepped into my sights.

Always be alert: it was my mantra.

“Helllllo,” he said, looking me up and down. In his hand was a short drink, and it sloshed against the sides as he leaned against the bar top. I took him in, the shirt that looked like it was inspired by a tropically located bathroom’s wallpaper. “You look lonely.”

I wanted to ignore him, but seeing how he was none-too-subtly encroaching on my personal space, I couldn’t exactly pretend not to see him. “I’m not, thank you.” Pointedly, I looked over his shoulder at the entrance for the lounge.

The man stepped closer. “That drink looks like Hawaii, don’t you think?” Ah, Hawaii—explained the shirt. I sized him up. Six foot, two-hundred and fifty pounds. Mid-forties with leathery-looking skin most likely thanks to repeated sun exposure.

Glancing at the fruity beverage, I said, “It looks like a diabetic coma.”

“You’re too good for a piña colada?” He sounded displeased and I pushed the drink to him.

“Not too good, no. Just not in the mood for sugar-laden drinks or the strangers who buy them for me.” My eyes were steel as I looked up at him. “I’m waiting for someone.”
Get a hint, buddy.

“Let me keep you company while you wait,” he invited, sitting in the seat beside me and effectively blocking my view of the lounge entrance.

“I don’t need company,” I said as calmly as possibly. I’d dealt with pushy men like this guy, men who couldn’t take a hint if it slapped them across their smug faces. But it usually got my guard up, regardless. We weren’t in Hawaii, and this man wasn’t someone who was a genuine threat, which made him easy to dismiss.

“I’m just going to sit here anyway.”

“Then you’ll be sitting alone,” a deep voice said at my back. The mere proximity of him set my skin afire with goosebumps and I reigned in any reaction I may have had for the sake of professionalism. I felt the man’s presence come to my side and when he said, “Hi, Ruby,” I recognized his voice immediately. I liked the way he said my name, his voice all rumbly and warm.

I turned my head, already curving my lips in welcome. But then I took him in—as much of him as I could, at least.

Christ
.

He was huge. And dark. And daunting. Dark hair covered his head and wrapped around his jaw in beard that made me think of flannel and wood smoke. His eyes were direct and intense, like he was memorizing my face.

One bead of sweat slid slowly down my spine. He was … wow.

His dark eyes searched me before he looked beyond me, to the man whose jaw had likely collapsed to the bar top. “Get lost.”

Two words. Two one-syllable words and the Hawaiian shirted man was gone before his shadow could catch up.

“Elias?”

He nodded once, slowly, hailing the bartender over with the lightest beckon if his hand. There was power in him, something I immediately found alluring. This was a man who owned not just the room he walked into, but the people in it as well.

“Get rid of this,” he motioned to the whipped cream monstrosity before turning to me. “What would you like?”

I smiled politely as I contemplated. I normally might have ordered something stronger. But something about Elias’ presence made me change my mind. “Martini, three-to-one ratio of vermouth please.”

“Dirty?” The bartender wiped down the counter where the fruity drink had sat, and placed a small, blood red napkin in its place.

I shook my head and the bartender disappeared down the bar.

“Dirty martinis are for rookies.” Elias sounded impressed, even pleased.

I angled my head and smiled softly. “I like to taste my alcohol.”

“I’m surprised by the three-to-one ratio, though. Isn’t it usually five-to-one?”

“Wet.” I didn’t need to tease this man with sultry words. He’d seen me before I’d seen him—he was already interested. But that didn’t make my answer any less sexual-sounding. “I like my martinis to be wet.” The low light masked his eyes, but I sensed a shift in his gaze nonetheless. “What about you?”

“I prefer wet, too.”

Considering he hadn’t actually ordered any alcohol, I knew he was alluding to something else. It gave me a genuine smile, not the practiced, carefully crafted smile I usually wore for situations like this one. He had a warmness that the Hawaii man had lacked, a sort of wry sense of humor at our situation.

The bartender set the drink in front of me and Elias laid a shiny black card on the equally black bar top. But still, his eyes were on me. He was taking every single inch of me in, like he didn’t already know what I looked like. His eyes trailed over the braid and I registered his swallow. He’d told me over the phone, he liked the photo he’d seen of me with a braid.

“Start a tab?” the bartender asked. Elias looked at me with a question in his eyes.

I subtly shook my head to Elias. “Just the one drink for me.”

“No tab,” Elias said, not taking his eyes off of me. “Just the check.”

I shifted on my seat, pressing my thighs together. “Thank you for the drink.”

“You’re welcome to more.” He gestured an arm out and I took in his clothing. He was as he’d described on the phone—tall and dark. But he was much more than that. He was early thirties, deeply tanned, with lips that held just a bit of a pout in the lower lip. And he was in excellent health, judging by the whites of his eyes and the fit of his body. There was no hint of muscles—oh no, the muscles were obvious, but not in a way that was meant to distract. The dark charcoal sweater wrapped around his arms with just enough slack to show the curves of the muscles that coiled around his thick arms. He wore dark jeans and black dress shoes. His clothes insinuated money, which was a good sign. The heavy silver watch at his wrist touted money too, but not flashy in the way of diamonds or a large logo.

My sense of professionalism was never far, however and I was reminded that this wasn’t what it appeared to be. I was almost sad when I shook my head. “I don’t make a habit of getting drunk,” I said, not adding
in situations like these
to the end of my sentence. It wasn’t necessary, just like the alcohol wasn’t.

I was already excited. That’s what the little curl in my blood was from. Elias projected just enough masculinity and a certain kind of peace—despite his massive height and the broadness of his shoulders. Like he could keep me safe.

Shaking my head slightly, I told myself I wasn’t looking for a bodyguard.

“Sorry, I was a couple minutes late.”

“It’s fine,” I assured him, touching a hand to his arm just because I wanted to feel the muscle beneath. I touched just his forearm, but even that smallest bit held a powerhouse of muscle shifting under my hand.

And I didn’t let go for several seconds.

“You’re stunning, Ruby. I regret not telling you the second I sat down.”

It caught me off guard. He said it with complete sincerity. I didn’t doubt him, but I didn’t often indulge in compliments like that. Too many and they’d go to your head; make you lazy. “Thank you.” I took the opportunity to eye him up and down. “I have to say, I’m pleasantly surprised.”

He laughed lightly, his shoulders moving up and down. I couldn’t stop staring at him. I couldn’t wait to see what was under the sweater, beneath the dark jeans. “I feel like I’m at a slight advantage. I knew what you looked like.”

My fingers played with the end of my braid. “That’s what this meeting is for, so I can determine if this is going to work.”

His eyes were dark when he asked, “And?”

I smiled. “I’m feeling confident tonight.”

He licked his lips and it was so sexy—so primal— that I took another sip of my martini to keep from fanning my face.

“I’m glad you were willing to work with my schedule,” he said, touching my hand when I brought the glass down.

It wasn’t a line, and I hadn’t meant to lower my voice with its delivery when I said, “I’m quite flexible.” But he smiled nonetheless, a kind of big bad wolf smile as his lips spread. His beard was thick, but not so much that I couldn’t make out the sculpted jaw underneath. I swallowed hard, feeling my pulse race a little. There was heat and more than a little danger in that grin. I was little red riding hood and he was out for me. He pressed his forefinger against the back of my hand, and I felt a shiver up my arm from the contact.

The air around us was electric as I pushed the drink away from myself, indicating to us both that I was ready. But before we left our seats, Elias reached behind his back and revealed an envelope. I blinked at it several times as my brain fired off little reminders to pay attention under the cloud of lust that was coating us both in a heavy fog.

“Oh,” I said, breathy and very, very warm. “You just leave that in the bathroom once we’re in the room.”

“Are you sure?” I looked down at his hands, his very large, very masculine hands, and because I wanted to, I reached down and touched them. This put my own hands inches from his crotch, a fact that made me stutter a little.

“Ye—yes, please. Just leave the donation in the bathroom.”

“Donation.” His mouth curved just enough to make me feel warm all over. This was the first time, in recent memory, that a client had made me this excited. But that’s who he was, I reminded myself as he helped me down from the bar stool.

I had to remind myself again as he led me to the elevator, with the tips of his fingers on the small of my back. He was a client.

When he opened the door to our room for the night, the whole night we’d agreed on, I looked him in the eyes and reminded myself that he was a client.

He was still a client when his fingers slid down my arm like he was gliding across piano keys, before his hand wrapped around mine and he pulled me, all too willingly, into the room. The door closed quietly behind me and he stepped forward, so that I was backed up against it.

As his mouth descended and his breath warmed my face, my insides shivered and I once again reminded myself he was a client.

And I was his escort, paid to give him a thorough fuck.