Dirty Little Lies (14 page)

Gabe takes me back to his
place—an old greystone. It is perfectly him. Warm and sexy. Mahogany wood trims
the very masculine place, full of leather furnishings in deep-jeweled colors.

“You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to get you here so I
could have my wicked way with you,” he growls in my ear. 

“We’re not at The Club, Mr. Shannon.” I giggle. “You have
no rooms or people to work with. None of your usual tricks here.”

“Oh, you’d be surprised what I can do just with the items
you’re wearing, Ms. Sinclair. We don’t
need
a club. In fact, I say we
start our own.”

“Yeah?” I play along. “Who shall we worship at the new
place, Aphrodite or Zeus?”

“Just you, baby,” he purrs. “A club for two—you and I,
members only.”

“Mmmm,” I say as he pulls me flush against his body. “I
like the sound of that.”

“Although I do regret that you didn’t get your moment as
Goddess. Maybe I could make it up to you now. Will you let me worship you,
Stevie?”

Yes, please.

My eyes glaze over, my head light with anticipation.

 Gabe quickly goes to work.

He slides the fabric belt from my dress and flips it over
his shoulder, giving me a sinful look. He’s saving it for later. Then, turning
me around, he slowly unzips my dress and lets it fall to the floor. I step out
of it—leaving me in only my bra and shoes, thanks to Venus’s greedy demand of
my panties. Gabe picks me up and carries me to his bedroom.

More rich woodwork frames the large room; a four-poster bed
sits regally in the center. Gabe deposits me right in front of it.

“Remove your bra, Stevie,” he says with the same
possessiveness in his voice from our first night together. All my nerve endings
ignite at the memory; my body knows what comes next.

I slip out of the purple lace and move to take off my
shoes.

“Leave the shoes on.”

Gabe pulls me to the top of the bed, nestling me in the
center. A sweet, romantic move. It doesn’t last. Soon, I’m bound. He wraps my
wrist, using the belt he took off my dress, and secures me to the headboard.

“Ah,” I call out as he positions himself on the bed
directly between my legs. “Is this what you had planned for me at The Club?”

“Shh,” he whispers. “No more talk of that. This is our new
and improved
adventure
, Stevie, and I have so much planned for you.”

“You do?” I squeak when he spreads my thighs.

“Yes, I do,” he says as his eyes flow back and forth
between soft and sexy—like there’s a battle going on inside of him.

I know the feeling. As much as my body aches for him, my
heart is even worse. I think I fell for him when he noticed my shoes that first
night. Sometimes you just know, I guess. I need to tell him. Now. Again, not
the most romantic way to declare my love to this amazing man—while I’m tied to
his bed. But completely appropriate considering it’s us.

“I love you, Stevie Sinclair,” Gabe says, abruptly halting
the conversation going on in my mind. Everything else stills as well and, for a
moment, I can do nothing but let his words soak in.

He loves me.

“No fair,” I whisper when I’m finally able. “I wanted to
say it first.”

“You did.” His hands begin worshipping my body and I lean
into his every move. “When you walked into The Club for me.”

I hook my legs around Gabe’s waist and pull him down close
so I can kiss the heck out of his handsome face. He falls into it with me. 

“You are mine now,” he growls.

I don’t care if it’s crude or
inappropriate or immature. I am going to fuck the memory of Max right out of
Stevie. She loves me, she’s mine, and I’m not going to do anything to risk that
again. She will want for nothing as long as I’m around.

She opens herself to me and I position myself to go as deep
as I possibly can. No tricks, no gimmicks. Just the two of us.

“I am yours,” she answers my declaration.

Her words wreck me. Like a man possessed, I drive into her
with so much force, I’m worried I may have cracked the headboard. Well, it’s
more of an observation than worry. Because after she gasps in approval. I do it
again. And again.

She smells like vanilla and sex and I strain not to come
apart so soon. She deserves to be worshipped and adored and I plan to do that
every chance I get.

“You feel amazing,” Stevie’s voice is full of lust, her
eyes squeezed tight. “I’m. So. Close,” she adds in between each thrust.

“Look at me,” I order her. I need to see her eyes, I need
that connection when we fall over the edge. She opens them and meets mine. Her
eyes are clouded and gorgeous, holding the same intensity I feel.

“I love you, Stevie Sinclair,” I say, completely lost in
this woman.

Her pussy clenches at my words and I almost come undone.

Yeah, it’s never just been about the sex between us. It’s
always been more. So much more.

“I love you, Gabe Shannon,” she replies and I have the same
response.

We move together, slowly, deeply, never taking our eyes off
each other. It is pure ecstasy and I don’t want it to end, but the build is
accelerating now and there’s nothing I can do to stop it.

I quickly dip my head, suck her nipple into my mouth and
the same time I thrust into for the last time.

And we fall over the edge together.

“Are you almost ready?” Gabe
asks in that deep gritty voice of his, anxious to get our evening started at
The Club.

 We’ve been away for months, and I know he’s missing it,
despite the way he denies it each time I bring it up. Or, maybe
I’m
missing it.

I do still have a teensy bit of a bad taste in my mouth
from the time Max showed up, but I refuse to let that cast a dirty shadow on
the place that changed my life—a place that brought me confidence, pleasure,
excitement, not to mention Gabe.

Donning a white satin toga that looks more like an evening
gown than a frat party get-up, I walk out from our bedroom.
Our
bedroom.
I’m still adjusting to that. Gabe asked me to move in last summer, but I held
out until Christmas—a fact I’m quite proud of. My sister was out of state on
her work assignment longer than she expected, so I had the run of her
townhouse. And though Gabe and I spent almost every night together, it helped
having my own place to work things out.

When he presented me with a key on Christmas Eve, however,
I couldn’t say no. We’ve been cohabitating for more than three months now and
it’s been bliss.

I shift my hair, sprinkled with tiny white flowers, over my
shoulder and Gabe lights up. He meets me in the living room and pulls me close.

“You looking amazing,” he whispers in my ear, before kissing
his way down my neck.

“I think my neckline is messed up again,” I say with a
smile, remembering the way he used to dress me for our trips to Venus. Gabe
sold the club, but we still make it on occasion. Of course tonight, is the
biggest event of the year—April first, the Veneralia. It’s an ancient Roman
tradition to honor Venus—the place is expected to be at capacity. My nerves
flutter in excitement. 

“I think you are just perfect, Stevie,” Gabe lifts his
head, and my neck immediately protests at the absence of his lips. “But if you
insist.” He reaches his hand inside my dress to secure the clasps that alter my
neckline so that my breasts are now prominently on display. My nipples peak as
the cool air hits them.

Gabe growls low in his throat.

His lips take mine in a crushing kiss, his tongue claiming
me as I yield to him. The scent of soap and spice invades my senses, making me
lose all thought. It’s just the two of us in our lust-addled fog.

Refusing to wear a toga, Gabe is dressed in a deep blue
silk shirt and black pants that fit him perfectly and very much to my liking.
But it’s his shirt making me lose every coherent thought. The silky fabric
taunts my breasts with Gabe’s every movement. They ache and want.

I moan, unable to hold it in.

Gable chuckles, completely aware of what he’s doing to me. 
He continues peppering his hot, wet kisses across my chest now, before circling
in on my breast. The warm air from his breath tickles the sensitive bud. My
knees buckle when his tongue flicks out to taste—and when he takes my nipple
deep into his mouth, a jolt of pleasure shoots between my legs. I am soaking
wet and needy.

God, I hope it will it always be this way
between us.

Gabe moves to my other breast to give it the attention it
deserves before sliding back up to meet me. “It’s time to go, baby.”

“Noooo,” I whine.

“Trust me, you will
not
be neglected tonight.”

Gabe slowly peels me off him and helps me with my trench
coat. We say goodbye to Free and we’re on our way. Yet, I can’t help but pout
being left in this condition. Gabe smirks, delighted with himself for putting
me in such a state.

“Bastard,” I say under my breath, smacking his shoulder.

“Patience, Stevie,” he whispers back and then takes a quick
nip of my earlobe.

Once we arrive at The Club, we pay our respects to Venus.
Tonight she is surrounded by a wall of white candles and covered in hundreds of
flowers. Gabe takes out an orange tulip and rests it on her shoulder.

I do a happy dance in my mind—thrilled I don’t have to
sacrifice yet another pair of expensive panties.

Inside, Gabe has a table reserved for us, right in the
middle of all the action. We sip champagne and watch the dancers, before the
parade of Gladiators enter the room, carrying in the reigning Venus.

The room grows a little darker in her presence. You can
almost smell arousal in the air—a heady scent that matches the savage vibe as
people dance, and touch, and stalk their prey.

Gabe groans, “It’s the one part of your adventure we never
got to. Are you sorry?”

“I don’t think so,” I say, skimming my hand over his thigh.
“I think I prefer my cult of one. You’re about all I can handle.”

“Well, I know I could not handle
that,
” Gabe says,
signaling to Venus—who now seems to be enjoying a hand-job from one of the
Gladiators.

“Jealous streak, Mr. Shannon?” I smirk. “I had no idea.
Hey, is that why no men touched me when I was paying my dues? Were you stacking
the cards?”

“No comment,” Gabe mumbles into his glass of champagne.

Devil.

“It’s too late for all that Venus stuff anyway.” I slide
out of my seat and take his hand, pulling him upright. “Tonight, I have an
adventure for you.”

Gabe’s eyes are wide and guarded.

“Do you trust me?”  I ask.

He stops walking and turns to me, his fingertip drawing a
line along my jaw, down my neck and chest to my exposed breast. “Always.”

This is going to be fun.

“Good.” I continue leading him down the long hallway. “Let
me show you what I’ve learned.”

The
End

One of the best perks of being a writer is spending hours,
days, months and years with some of the most amazing characters—even if they
aren’t real. Stevie came to me during a time when I needed a laugh and, quite
frankly, when I needed to get some of my own sexy back. Stevie allowed me to
indulge in, ahem, various activities and adventures and reminded me to take
time for myself.  Today, she still encourages me to get out there and kick some
ass and it’s my greatest wish that she does the same for you!

I have to thank all the readers who not only fell in love
with Gabe and Stevie immediately, but demanded that write more of them!! Thank
you, thank you, thank you for making dreams come true.

Big sloppy smooches to my support system —from my mom and
in-laws, to my sisters and friends, to my awesome husband and son. You all are
so incredible and I’m thankful for each one of you every day.

Big hugs to Rebecca Berto for the amazing cover—Stevie
would be proud—and Madison Seidler for early editorial work. Squeezes to Rhonda
Helms and Rachel Brookes for telling me to bring the heat, and to Liz King who
said, “Clare, this is going to be a hit!” And to Jessica, for always being
there in my corner. I’m so lucky to have all of you!

Thanks to Give Me Books for the excellent work on the cover
reveal and book blitz. Also to the reviewers, bloggers, and the romance and NA
community for all of your love and support. And to my fellow authors, you are
the best!   

Clare James is the author of steamy contemporary romance
and new adult novels: BEFORE YOU GO, MORE, and DIRTY LITTLE LIES.  A former
dancer, Clare still loves to get her groove on—mostly to work off her beloved
cupcakes and red wine.

A fan of spunky women, gorgeous guys, and super-hot
romance, Clare spends most of her time lost in books. She lives in Minneapolis
with her two leading men—her husband and young son—and loves to hear from her
fans.

Find her at:

www.clarejamesbooks.com

@clarejamesbooks

http://www.facebook.com/clarejamesauthor