Yours to Savor (23 page)

He was on the verge of lifting her onto the bar and fucking her right there, and to hell with social norms and decorum.

That was when she broke away.

She looked at him in a daze, both vulnerable and triumphant.

But surely, she wasn’t as dazed as Brandon felt.

Suddenly she giggled again, almost like a little girl. Her cheeks were flustered from the powerful kiss. Her red lips appeared larger than before to his primal brain.

The next thing he knew, she was leading him away from the bar, through the lobby, and into the elevator. The entire walk was a blur. All he knew was
her
. All he could focus on was
her
.

They got in the elevator, and as soon as the doors closed, he pounced. He pushed her into the corner, and she gasped as her skin hit the cool metal mirror behind her. But she pulled him in right away, arching her back and opening her mouth for him to lay waste to. Their lips met again, and this time Brandon showed no restraint. His hands travelled up the sides of her body, pressing against her firm, smooth waist, and finally—
finally
!—found her breasts. She gasped into his mouth as his thumbs came upon her tight nipples, and he was acting on pure instinct as he let one hand trail down her body toward the growing heat between her legs.

The elevator dinged to announce their arrival on the eleventh floor.

Sandra pushed him off immediately, adjusted her hair. She gave a knowing smile before strutting down the hallway by herself.

Brandon watched from the back of the elevator, mesmerized by the sway of her hips, by the clip-clop of her heels, by the gracious curve of her back and calves. When she realized he wasn’t following, she stopped and whipped her head back, cocking her hip to the side to rest one fist on it.

Then she sent him the clearest invitation of his life by raising one eyebrow slightly.

She was all sensual femininity. He all but ran out of the elevator to reach her.

“You’re not going anywhere tonight,” she told him firmly by her door. “You’re not leaving me on the doorstep again.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he promised.

“Good.” She retrieved the keycard from inside her bra and slid it through the lock. “I have everything set up for you.”

“Everything?” he started to ask, but stopped as the door came open. Music flowed from within. It was a dreamy kind of song, low and sultry and perfect for seduction. Something he would have picked for her if he’d had the chance.

“Everything,” Sandra repeated, walking in.

Brandon followed. The lights were off in the long hallway, but he could see flickering shadows cast against the wall at the very end. Sandra led him there. He discovered that she had laid out an array of candles along the sides of the room, over the windowsills, across the dining table. He could smell their light, wispy aroma. The lights of the city shone through the windows, but somehow did not overtake the dancing flames.

“What do you think?” She had her hands clasped behind her back, and was teeming with barely-suppressed excitement. Hell, she even did a twirl as his eyes found the table, set with dishes of food. “I cooked,” she explained. “For us. And I have the music picked out, and the candles. I didn’t know what you liked, so I made a little of everything. I haven’t cooked in a long time, but I still remember how to do it, and then I went out today to prepare everything, and…”

She was babbling. Brandon could tell. Somehow, after that whole display in the bar below, this precious, sensual woman was babbling, which meant she was
nervous
. She’d set all of this up for him, with clear knowledge of where it would lead… yet she was still nervous. She’d worn that man-killer outfit down below, conducted that obliterating display at the bar, kissed him shamelessly in public, but now that they were alone, she was
nervous
.

It was an excellent sign.

It was excellent because it meant he’d had an effect on her beyond raw physical desire. It meant, he hoped, that she was starting to carve out room for him in her heart.

“I don’t want
everything
,” he said gently, cutting her off. “I only want you.”

She blinked, surprise flashing on her face. Then she leaned her head to the side and regarded him with all the grace she’d shown downstairs. “Is that so?”

“Did you cook in that dress?”

“No.” She stepped toward him. She brought a hand to her back, and Brandon heard the slide of a zipper. The next thing he knew, the dress was a pile of blue fabric on the floor. “I cooked for you in my lingerie.”

He staggered at seeing her like that, at hearing those words. He had to catch his balance against the wall.

His eyes soaked Sandra in. He’d been teased by her body before, had spent many hours imagining just what her curves and beautiful, soft skin would look like. But seeing her in person in front of him, as a living, breathing,
willing
woman, was like nothing his imagination could have ever conjured.

It wasn’t even fair. Her long legs curved lusciously where they met her hips, before her body contracted perfectly into a tight belly and narrow waist. Then her shape flared out in the delicious swell of her breasts, pressed against her chest by the tight bra. Her hair fell past her shoulders, framing a face even more beautiful in the shadows, and those enticing dark roots blended so well with the smooth, luxurious, beach-blonde strands.

She was a real woman, not one embellished by surgery and operations.

Her skin was perfect, too. How he longed to trail his tongue over it. Some of the women he’d been with looked good while fully clothed, but when the clothes came off the illusion ended. Then it would be a disaster of old tattoos and unsightly scars from a troubled past.

Sandra was nothing like that. She was pure. Unadulterated. Unspoiled. And she was here for him.

The silky black lingerie gave rise to breasts that were perfect by every standard. Brandon hardly noticed the candles in the background, the soft hum of the music, or the smells of the food. They were all nice touches—but they were all distractions. He didn’t want
everything
.

He wanted
her
.

By the way her chest heaved in quick, successive breaths, he knew she wanted him, too.

Sandra gasped as Brandon’s body slammed into hers. The feel of his roughened clothes scratching against her bare skin heightened her arousal. His mouth met hers, and she leapt up to wrap her legs around his waist. She could feel the bulge in his pants.

Brandon had barely paid attention to what she’d prepared. She’d wanted to create the perfect atmosphere for tonight’s seduction, but when she saw him in the lobby that night, desire for her clear in his eyes, she knew he wasn’t going to leave her wanting again.

Not that it hurt to prepare, though.

That thought was fleeting as Brandon carried her to the bedroom. All conscious thought disappeared when her back hit the firm mattress. Brandon’s lips trailed down her neck, over the space between her breasts. She moaned in pleasure as his hands moved over her chest, lingering for a moment on her tight nipples. And then his tongue found her bellybutton, circling it lightly in preparation of what was to come. She gasped in anticipation.

Before he could go any lower, though, she tugged him up, and his mouth found hers again. She wanted to see him, to
touch
him before he could do the same to her. She flipped them over and straddled him on the bed.

The buttons on his shirt were a problem. Her fingers didn’t seem to remember how to work properly. Desire soaked her brain in promise of unfathomable pleasure. Brandon let his hands fall to the sides and watched her work her way down his shirt.

She was already trembling in anticipation.

One by one, the buttons came undone. Sandra pulled his shirt open. And had to stop.

“Oh, wow,” she murmured.

He moved to kiss her again, but she held him down.

“Let a girl enjoy the view, first.”

She put her hands on his strong chest, lightly grazed with hair, and moved down to trace the outline of his abdominals. She’d seen him shirtless before, that first time they’d met, but never had she had a chance to just
savor
his beauty before. She rubbed her hands over his stomach almost reverently, sucking in a staggering breath. His muscles rippled as he lay under her.

Suddenly his hand grabbed her neck and brought her to him again. She found the wild passion of his mouth exhilarating. Her hands were all over his upper body, reaching, grabbing, exploring his skin without the barrier of clothes. And his were all over her, as well.

She ran her hands along his back as he kissed her, and he stroked her legs, her lower back, her neck. He grabbed a handful of hair near the nape of her long her neck and pulled back firmly, causing her to arch her head back and moan with pleasure.

That was when his phone rang.

She felt the vibration against her leg from his pants pocket. Brandon tensed, but ignored it, continuing to kiss her.

The ringing only got louder.

Sandra stopped, lifting her mouth from his.

“Should you get that?”

“No,” Brandon scowled, and pulled her back down. The ringing died, and Sandra lost herself in Brandon’s passion again.

Not two seconds later, it started up again. Sandra stopped. The sound was very distracting.

Brandon growled beneath her and shifted to reach into his pocket. Then, instead of answering, he threw the phone against the wall with a roar. The ringing stopped.

The act surprised Sandra, but she was too caught up in her lust to really consider it. Her mouth clasped back over Brandon’s, exploring, searching, tasting.

That was when the ringing started from his
other
pocket.

Sandra stopped, and pulled away, looking down at him in confusion. “What is that?”

“I have two,” Brandon muttered. “Very few people know the second number. If they’re calling, it’s important.”

“Oh,” Sandra said stiffly.

“I hate myself for doing this,” he grumbled.

“No, no, go ahead.” Sandra slid off him. “If it’s important, you should take it.”

Brandon closed his eyes. “I can’t believe this is happening.”

“Really. If someone’s calling you and it’s important, you need to take it. I won’t be going anywhere.”

Brandon sighed and rolled off the bed. “I’ll be back,” he promised her, and walked out of the room shirtless, bringing the phone to his ear.

“Clarisse.” Brandon hissed as he paced the hallway outside Sandra’s suite. “You know I’m with Sandra. What do you want?”

He heard a
tsk
from the other line. “You know I wouldn’t be calling you if it wasn’t important.”

Brandon sighed, and took a deep breath to steady his irritation. “I know. What is it?”

“It’s Mark.”

Brandon froze. Mark was something of a loose cannon.

“What about Mark?”

“He got the name of the kid you’re looking for. And his picture.”