Here With You (12 page)

No guy had ever treated her the way Grif did. Flowers. Singing to her. Kissing her
so amazingly. Yes, she knew he wanted something from her, but he knew he had her help.
Bribery wasn't necessary.

Except she knew deep down in her heart, he wasn't trying to bribe her. Griffin Chase
didn't need to resort to bribery. He'd never done anything he hadn't felt compelled
to do.

Slipping his sunglasses on and making sure his cap was firmly on his head, Grif stopped
at
the front desk
and smiled at the woman sitting there. "I'd like to check into a room, please."

The woman melted under his smile, of course, although based on the fact that she hadn't
started drooling, she obviously hadn't see beyond his disguise. "Do you have a reservation,
Mr...?"

"Gallagher. Roddy Gallagher." He pulled out an American Express card out of his wallet.

As he handed it over, Nicole glanced at the name. Sure enough, it had the fake name
Grif used. She arched her brows at him.

He squeezed her hand and focused his charm on the woman.

Who batted her eyes shamelessly. "Thank you, Mr. Gallagher. For how many nights?"

"One night," he replied as though he showed up in hotels after midnight with a woman
in tow all the time.

Nicole didn't like that thought.

Was this a bad idea? Maybe she shouldn't be there.

But even as she had the thought, she knew there was no question that she was going
to go through with this. She wasn't promiscuous, always taking care in picking who
she ended up with, and this was happening way faster than normal. But it felt inevitable.
Right.

And, if she were honest, she
really
wanted Grif.

Thanking the receptionist, he turned to Nicole. "Ready?"

Any more ready, and she'd be naked right there in the lobby. But to reassure herself
that she was doing the right thing, she got up on her tiptoes and kissed him.

The contact zapped her even though she'd meant it to be light.
This
was why they were in the Four Seasons, taking such a big chance with their friendship.
This crazy electric thing between them.

He hummed, his hand gripping her hair. "It's not too late to back out."

She thought about the kiss and remembered being draped across his body early that
one morning. She'd be out of her mind to back down now. Marley would never forgive
her.

So she did the only logical thing: she pressed herself against him and kissed him
again with all the nervous eagerness in her body.

He groaned with a hunger that excited her, catching her up in his arms. "It's going
to be great, Nic," he murmured against her mouth.

Yes
. Nodding, she led him to the elevator.

When they reached their floor, instead of leading her to their room, he surprised
her by lifting her into his arms and carrying her. Without releasing her, he opened
the door and headed straight to the bed, lowering her and following directly on top
of her.

She sighed, loving the weight of his body on her. She tugged his shirt up and touched
his naked back, hooking her legs in the crook of his knees to keep him close.

Leaning on one arm, he pushed up all her layers—coat and shirt—until his hand cupped
her breast over her bra. His fingers teased her nipple to standing through the thin
lace, rolling and massaging until she was writhing under him.

"Grif," she gasped, trying to get closer to him.

"Yes?" He nibbled on her collarbone.

"I need more."

"I can give you more." He sat up, undid her pants, and pulled them and her underwear
down. Then he dumped condoms out from his pocket and unbuttoned his jeans.

She stared at the condoms littering the bed. "Planning ahead?"

"It's called hope." He pulled his erection out and covered it in one of the rubbers.

Nicole wanted to tell him she had a clean bill of health and was on the pill, but
maybe this was better. It was a symbolic barrier
—
a reminder not to get
too
close.

Grif worked her coat and top off and then slid his finger under the strap of her exposed
bra. "I'm torn between asking you to model this for me and tearing it off you."

"That's a dilemma."

"I'm not sure I can last through a show. Can I get a rain-check? For next time?"

"There's going to be a next time?"

"I know I'm jumping the gun, but based on the events so far, I'm willing to bet that
we'll want a next time. Maybe you'll even model something you've designed yourself."

She stilled. "What?"

He had the grace to look abashed. "I may have snooped. But before you get bent out
of shape, your lingerie designs are incredible. I especially like the sheer black
one."

"You weren't supposed to look," she said weakly as she blushed. She'd designed that
black one with him in mind.

"I know, but I'm happy I did. It gives me something to look forward to for the next
time."

His praise caused a rush of delight followed immediately by uneasiness. She hid her
feelings behind a sassy smile and ran her hands along his chest. "Bold, making promises
for the next time when you haven't delivered this time."

"Are you worried I won't deliver?"

Arching up, she said, "Well, you
have
been all talk so far."

"And I'm not meeting your needs. I'll have to rectify that." He lowered his head and
kissed her.

Blazing hot, it stole her breath. She arched up into it, giving him space to reach
around her to unhook her bra. He swept it away and, kissing his way down the center
of her body, to take the tips of her breasts in his mouth, one at a time, before working
his way down.

Before she could catch her breath, he pressed his next kiss right between her legs.

She gasped in surprise, and then he licked into her and she gasped in pleasure. She
gripped his hair as he did it again—and again. Her head swam, and she gripped the
bed covers to anchor herself.

He loved her with his mouth, like he couldn't get enough of her. Like she was the
most delicious chocolate dessert and he wanted to lap up every last bite.

Out of nowhere, her climax hit her, making her shout out, her thighs tensing around
his head. She was about to tell him to stop when he slid back up and pushed into her.

He gazed into her eyes, brushing her hair out of her eyes. Then he smiled, kissed
her, and she felt so right.

He rolled his hips into her, and sharp jabs of electric shock zipped through her.
She gasped, grabbing his arms, about to tell him it was too intense, that she was
going to die, when she suddenly came again.

He slowed down, long, hard strokes deep inside her, the column of his neck taut. He
thrust into her one more time, tensing, crying out her name as he came, too.

Instead of crushing her with his weight, he rolled onto his back, pulling her over
him.

She began to sit up, to get off, but he held her in place. Feeling him stir inside
her, she looked at him, a flare of desire miraculously lighting her up all over again.
"Again?"

"Yes." He pulled her on top, urging her to ride him.

"I need your cowboy hat," she said, propping herself up.

His fingers tightened on her and he pulsed inside her, obviously liking the thought.
"That can be arranged."

"Is there anything you can't arrange?"

"For you?" He shook his head, his smile sweet. "Even the moon, Nicole."

Her heart flopped, but she shook it off. Tonight was only about pleasure
—
about Happily Right Now. Happily Ever After didn't happen with a man like Griffin
Chase, no matter how much you wanted it.

Chapter Fourteen

In the Regencies Nicole loved, the heroines were always limp with satisfaction at
the end of lovemaking, but she herself had never experienced that sort of ultimate
pleasure. Not that she didn't like sex—she loved it. It was always good—or at least
passable enough.

Sex with Grif was beyond anything she'd ever imagined. She'd
screamed.

It'd been magical.

Except for the one part where he'd confessed about looking at her sketchpad. There
wasn't anything she could do about it now, but it didn't mean she felt any less exposed.
Except it was Grif, and he knew her better than almost anyone.

And he knew her much better now, having explored her body all night long.

Apparently she'd slept tangled in him, his legs scissored between hers, his arm draped
around her, her head nestled into his shoulder. She liked it, probably more than she
should. It felt good, weighty as opposed to light and insubstantial, and that worried
her. It was supposed to be easy.

Actually it was incredibly easy.

She cuddled into him, and he stirred, nuzzling her shoulder. "What time do you have
to be at work?" he asked, his voice husky with sleep.

She'd forgotten about reality. She wilted, wishing she could stay here forever. "At
eleven."

Grif craned his neck to look at the clock on the bedside stand. "I don't think I've
ever been so glad it's only nine o'clock."

She chuckled. "You never liked to wake up early in school either."

"I'm civilized." He rolled on top of her. "You'll like to stay in bed, too."

When she felt his hardness, she sighed happily. "Maybe."

"Maybe?" He lifted his head, as though scenting a challenge. "Maybe? Am I going to
have to prove it?"

She sighed again as his erection touched her intimately. "I'm not sure I'll believe
you until you do."

"In that case..." He scratched her neck with his raspy cheek, his hand stealing down
between their bodies, all the way down to where she needed him most.

She arched up, sensitive from the night's play, and then gasped in pleasure as his
fingers homed in on the perfect spot.

He lowered his head to her breast, teasing her nipple with his tongue. "We need to
order room service," he murmured against her skin.

"We do?" She speared her fingers in his hair. She could care less about food, not
when he was snacking on her.

"You can't go to work hungry. And you need to shower too."

She kissed down the column of his neck. "I suppose you're offering to wash my back."

"Definitely." He stood up and scooped her in his arms.

"Wait." She pointed at the bed. "We only just started."

"I know." He kissed her forehead, and then her neck. "We'll finish in the shower."

Her heart skipped with anticipation, and all she could do was nod in consent, and,
later, scream some more.

They never did order room service.

Grif helped her shower and get dressed, the whole time wishing he could undress her
again. He leaned against the sink as she smoothed her hair in a ponytail.

She grimaced at her reflection. "That's the best I can do."

Any better and he wasn't sure he'd be able to let her go. Despite the fact that she
had nothing more than a little gloss on her lips, she was luminous. This morning her
eyes sparkled with more than their usual light. The one flaw was a patch of redness
that marked her neck, where his stubble had abraded her, but he even liked that. He
liked knowing she wore his brand.

KT would call him pathetic.

"Next time I'll bring makeup with me," Nicole said with one last look in the mirror.
She faced him. "You know, I can take a cab to work if you want to stay here longer."

"I'll take you." He kissed her glistening lips. "And later we can discuss next time."

Her eyes widened. "I didn't mean
—
"

"I want it, too, Nic," he assured her.

She swallowed audibly and then nodded. When she spoke, her voice was a little hoarse.
"We should go."

He put his cap and sunglasses on and took her hand. "Come then."

They walked down, hand in hand. The doorman hailed them a taxi.

The cab ride was silent. He was about to ask Nicole what was going through her head
when a faint strain of a melody rose in his mind. He stilled, listening, knowing from
experience that it had to work itself to the surface. Forcing it would only make it
more elusive. So he held onto Nicole's hand and hoped it wasn't just a fleeting hallucination.

When they arrived she faced him. "Grif—"

Before she could finish whatever she'd been about to say, he kissed her. And then
because it was delicious, he kissed her again, lingering, feeling his chest fill with
desire and longing that had to do with more than just sex.

Nicole melted against him, sighing, just like he'd intended. He lifted her chin. "See
you after work?"

"Yes." She smiled at him and slid out of the car. She waved and headed to open the
store.

He watched her and then turned to tell the taxi driver their address. But he noticed
Grounds for Thought across the street, so he paid the cabbie and went to get a cup
of coffee.

Putting in an order for coffee and a scone, he managed to make it to a seat in the
back without a scene or anyone recognizing him. He left his hat and sunglasses on,
wanting privacy.

Wanting space to think about Nicole.

It was going to be a long day without her. He wished she were sitting there with him.

Here with you
.

He pulled out the notepad she'd given him and flipped to a blank page.

Here with you
. He wrote the words down, humming a measure of that tune playing in his head.

The barista delivered his coffee, but he hardly noticed. More images came to him:
Nicole's hair, messy on his pillow; the slide of her leg, smooth against his; her
smile, adorably crooked, so slow in the night. He wrote them all down, not sure how
they fit together or even if they would.

His heart beat heavily, excited, feeling a surge of creativity he hadn't experienced
in so long. He was afraid to focus on it too closely—what if it vanished?