Playing Dirty: Windy City Kink, Book 3 (9 page)

“I am.”

He got rid of what was left on the table and brought the dessert, one large serving of tiramisu in a clear plastic container, and two forks. The top of it was covered with curls of chocolate. When Paige put the first bite into her mouth, she closed her eyes and moaned.

“Oh holy shitballs, this is so good.”

Fuck, that was hot, hearing that kind of noise from her, watching her expression of delight. His dick thickened and he pulled in a long breath. He wanted to see that expression when she was naked and underneath him. He wanted to hear her moan like that because of what he was doing to her. He shifted in the leather seat of the aircraft.

Her eyes opened and she caught him staring at her. Her eyes widened in response, no doubt seeing the heat and hunger in his expression. For a moment, something pulsed between them.

“You have some whipped cream on your lip,” he murmured.

She lifted a hand and touched the tip of her index finger to one corner of her mouth. Blood rushed to his groin. Fuck, now he was throbbing.

“Other side. Here.” He leaned forward and used his own finger to swipe the small speck of cream. Then he slipped his finger between her open lips. Her tongue touched his fingertip, her eyes fastened on his, her teeth gently closed down on him. The air around them went smoldering hot. For a long moment they looked at each other, heat building. Then her tongue gave a tiny, slow swirl, licking him. Lightning-hot need jolted him right to his core. He drew back, letting his finger trail over her bottom lip. “There you go.”

Mesmerized, he watched her face, watched her cheeks pinken, watched the red silk of her blouse lift over delicate breasts as she drew in a breath, hard little nipples poking against the thin fabric. She brushed her bangs out of her eyes in a sexy swipe and blinked at him.

He gave her a slow smile. “Like I said—a two-bedroom cottage.”

Her eyes flickered. Yup, he’d guessed right about where her thoughts had gone.

“I was presumptuous enough to arrange this whole getaway but not presumptuous enough to assume you’re going to sleep with me. So I got two bedrooms.”

Her chin lowered a little and her lips closed as if she was trying not to smile.

“But, dammit, not gonna lie. I’m gonna spend the weekend trying to get you naked and in bed with me. Because I want you. Bad.”

Chapter Nine

Paige’s eyes flew wide open and her breath stuck in her throat. Her skin heated and tingled everywhere. The plane gave a couple of bumps and she was so distracted by Raff she barely noticed.

Never in her life had she had a man look at her that way, with such blistering heat and hunger that she felt powerfully feminine and desired. Never in her life had she had a man say such things to her, to openly state he wanted her with such raw honesty. But on top of all that, never in her life had she had a man who could look at her that way, say those things, and still make her feel like he was being careful and respectful of her.

When she’d agreed to his one-date offer, she’d told herself it was no big deal. Then when the date turned out not to be the dinner and glass of wine in a plush restaurant she’d expected, but rather a weekend in a luxurious resort in San Diego, she’d had to regroup. She could handle an evening out with Raff. But could she handle a whole weekend?

She wasn’t sure of the answer, but even so, had found herself agreeing to get on the plane with him and fly across the country, tempted by the experience, but mostly tempted by him. Something about him made her want to just surrender. Their conversation in the limo had lulled her, seduced her even, into feeling that she could trust him. Maybe it was his apparent willingness to take no for an answer—although that hadn’t been tested. His provision of two bedrooms—although she had yet to see that with her own eyes.

She wanted to trust him, wanted to believe everything he said, so badly, and found herself little by little edging toward that. Yet she kept reminding herself of why she shouldn’t. And in the back of her mind, she kept thinking,
Really
?
He wants
me?
Why
?

Her goal for the date had been to be casual about it, to not be so hung up on his dominance, power and air of danger, to take the outing at face value and just have fun. She wasn’t a teenage virgin; she was a thirty-year-old woman who’d been married. Even though the date had turned into a weekend together, she’d hung on to that plan. But she felt as if her grip on it was slipping. Now that he’d clearly laid out his own plan, she had to dig deep to keep her focus.

“I appreciate your honesty,” she said, attempting a light tone. “I’m flattered. Good luck with that.”

His lips twitched and he lifted his chin. “I enjoy a challenge.”

“I sense that about you.”

“You sense right. You should also know that I’m very determined.”

“I got that too,” she said dryly.

He leaned forward, voice soft. “Sometimes I play dirty when it comes to getting what I want.”

“All’s fair in love and war?”

He gave a slow, sexy grin. “Glad you agree.”

Now her pussy was clenching hard on a wave of lust that rolled through her, imagining Raff playing dirty…in bed. Her breasts swelled, nipples tingling, and when his gaze dropped to her chest, she knew he could totally see her arousal. His eyes darkened and his jaw tightened.

Then she realized that two could play this game. She could make this difficult for him in a way that was different than just saying no. She could play dirty too.

She reached for more of the tiramisu, once again letting her pleasure show as she consumed the mouthful of dessert, enjoying the sweet creaminess, the warmth of the rum, the richness of coffee, the dark decadence of the chocolate on top. And she didn’t bother pulling her cardigan over her chest or crossing her arms as she sat back in her seat and ran her tongue over her bottom lip.

He watched her with an amused glint in his eyes, as if he knew what she was doing and was enjoying the hell out of it.

“Earlier when you did that, I thought how much I want to see you look like that underneath me,” he said softly. Her pussy quivered with delight. “And how much I want to make you moan like that.”

Oh dear God. He was so right. He was playing dirty. She wasn’t sure if she was going to be able to match him.

“You know you’re making me hard,” he continued. He sat back in his seat, legs spread a little, inviting her to look. And, holy shitballs, she wanted to.

Heat slid through her veins. She couldn’t stop her gaze from dropping briefly to his crotch, where a definite bulge made her tummy do a little flip. Still trying for casual, she smiled. “Impressive.”

His lips curved. “Just wait.”

“And so modest too.”

He now flashed a grin. “You could be playing with fire, babe.”

A thrill trickled down her spine. Sweet zombie Jesus, she liked this. It was dangerous. Exciting. It was making her wet. “I know.”

He reached for the bottle of wine and topped off their glasses, though she’d barely touched hers. “We’ve still got a couple of hours till we get to San Diego,” he said. “Let’s get to know each other better.”

Now
that
was almost scarier than the flirting. “Sure,” she said, setting down the fork.

“Are you done with dessert?”

“Yeah.” She sighed. “It was amazing, but I am so full.”

“Let me take these things into the galley.”

“You seem pretty at home in this little plane.”

He grinned. “Yeah.”

He took his seat and fastened his seat belt again. He’d gotten rid of his suit jacket with his coat when they’d boarded and now one hand went to the other wrist to unfasten his cuff. He turned the cuff back a couple of times carelessly then did the same on the other arm. She watched in fascination. His hands were big, his fingers long and lean, dusted with masculine dark hair, with neat nails. His forearms too had silky-looking dark hair layered over sinewy muscles.

Her gaze moved up to his chest and shoulders, the soft fabric of his shirt draping with perfect grace over his big frame.

“How do you stay in shape?” she asked. “You don’t keep all those muscles sitting behind a desk all day.”

He gave her a wicked grin, one eyebrow arched. “Checking me out, babe?”

“I’m making conversation. You said we were going to get to know each other better.”

“True that. Okay. I box.”

She blinked. “What? Box?”

“Yeah. You know…in a ring. With gloves.” He did a series of fast jabbing punches in the air.

“Why am I not surprised that you’re into such an aggressive, violent sport.”

He burst out laughing. “It’s not violent.”

“Of course it is! It’s beating people up.”

“It’s sparring, not beating them up. The people I spar with are trained and wear the same gear I do; it’s not like I’m pounding on some dude walking down the street.” A muscle twitched in his jaw when he said that.

She pictured him bare-chested, all sweaty muscles and damp hair, dancing in a boxing ring and pummeling some other guy. Weirdly, that was hot. Very hot.

“What do you do to keep in shape?” He picked up his glass of wine and lifted his chin. “Oh wait. Hip-hop.”

“Yeah. I’m not that great at it. Mallory’s good, she’s a dancer.”

“A dancer?”

“Not that kind of dancer.” She chuckled. “She took ballet for years when she was a kid. She even danced competitively.”

“What else?”

“Uh…that’s it.” She made a face. “I know I should do more. I keep thinking that one day I’ll be more settled in my business and have time on my hands and I’ll join a gym or something.”

He gave her a sexy perusal that made her blood run hot again. “You look like you’re in good shape.”

“Thanks.” The word came out breathy.

“So your workouts consist of hip-hop class with Mallory. I gather you don’t play any sports.”

“Nope.”

“Like to watch?”

She blinked.

“Sports,” he clarified, lips twitching.

“Yeah, sure. Not baseball. That’s about as exciting as watching a turkey thaw. I like football and hockey.”

“And you complained about
boxing
being violent?”

“Well, occasionally a hockey game does break out between fights—” He gave a surprised bark of laughter and she smiled in response. “But boxing is just one big fight. Right?”

“Right. You go to Blackhawks games?”

“Sometimes. Tickets can be pricey and I don’t have a lot of cash to throw around.”

“You’ll come with me. Next game.”

“You have season tickets?”

“I have a suite.”

She gave a brief eye-roll. “Of course you do. Duh.”

He grinned.

“Well, we’ll see. After this weekend you may never want to see me again.”

His eyebrows snapped together. “Why would you say that?”

“Raff. All flirting aside, we don’t know each other. I’m
so
not your type. I don’t get why you’re doing this. I’m going along with it…for the fun of it. But
really
?” She shook her head. “Not gonna happen.”

He studied her, taking a sip of his wine. “I guess we’ll see.”

She tipped her head and sighed.

“So what’s your favorite sex position?”

Her eyes bugged out and her mouth fell open.

Raff laughed. “Okay, never mind. We can discuss that later.”

“I don’t think so!”

“Have you ever been to San Diego?”

“No, I haven’t.”

“You’re gonna love it. I wanted to take you somewhere warm and sexy, but obviously we couldn’t leave the country. Won’t have much time there, but I have some ideas of how we can keep busy.”

“I’m sure you do,” she muttered.

And he laughed again. “Fuck, you make me laugh,” he said, shaking his head. “You have no idea how hot that makes me for you.”

She gaped at him yet again. “Oh my God. I’m starting to think that
blinking
makes you hot.”

“If it’s you…yeah.”

She couldn’t believe it when Brice announced over the sound system that they were on their descent into San Diego a short time later. The four-hour flight had seemed like minutes, and even though it was midnight their time, she felt animated and eager to see the city.

Of course being dark, she didn’t see much. Raff had rented a car and it was waiting for them, a sexy red convertible Camaro that had her shaking her head. He seemed to know where he was going and easily navigated the route from airport to hotel. She took in the busy freeway, the lights of the city, the black silhouettes of palm trees against a midnight-blue sky.

The hotel was another mind blower, like a castle at Disneyland, lit up with lights around the turrets and towers and…everywhere, really. Raff pulled up beneath a canopy and jumped out while a bellhop opened her door. Another bellhop grabbed Raff’s bag—somehow he had luggage and she had nothing but her purse—and a valet accepted the car keys from Raff to take the car away. Car keys and a discreet tip.

Wow. It was so easy for him. People jumped to attention, rushed to help him, and he just went with it. She was starstruck, gazing all around.

Married to Delmer, they’d had money. Her job had paid well, and Delmer was a successful hedge-fund trader. He worked insane hours and was crazy driven, but he made a lot of money. Living in New York, they weren’t unfamiliar with elegant restaurants and hotels. However, being crazy driven also meant Delmer never wanted to take a vacation. Once, they went to a fancy five-star, all-inclusive resort in the Caribbean, which was lovely, but she’d always wanted to travel more, and she and Delmer had often had disappointing discussions about that.

A thrill ran through her at being somewhere new, different and exciting. The hotel was old, but incredible, with lots of old woodwork, chandeliers and a soaring ceiling. At this time of day the lobby was quiet, so while Raff checked them in, she wandered around to take in the ambience, and then they were being led to their cottage.

Raff had said everything she’d need would be waiting for them. She was a little skeptical of that. She could manage without her usual face wash and moisturizer for two nights, but there were some things she couldn’t live without. Like mascara. She was blonde and her pale eyelashes made her look like she had no eyes if she didn’t wear mascara.

Also, there was a beach. They could hear the muted roar of the surf rushing onto the sand. And there was a pool. She needed a bathing suit.

And pajamas. Flannel pajamas with long pants and a very big shirt. Something extremely unsexy. She doubted those were waiting for her in the room.

The bellhop showed them in, carrying Raff’s duffel bag. Raff gestured to the bedroom that was just inside the entrance and handed the guy some folded-up bills.

“Thank you, Mr. Lauden.” The bellhop nodded and left, leaving them alone.

Raff walked down the hall past the bedroom and into a combination dining/living room with a small kitchenette on one side and a fireplace on the other, a sofa between the two facing the fireplace. Two windows were dark but she knew they overlooked the ocean and she couldn’t wait to see it in the morning. Raff flicked on the gas fireplace and it flared to life. He walked over to the kitchen counter and pulled a wine bottle out of an ice bucket.

“Is that champagne?” She moved toward him, her gaze still taking in every beautiful detail of the room—the elegant furniture, hardwood floor, the fact that the two windows were actually French doors leading outside.

“Yeah.”

“Omigod. Raff.”

He began to open the bottle. “I’m making an executive decision that we’re staying in tonight. Been a long day. Long flight. Tomorrow night we’ll go out.”

She was fine with that. More than fine. But she was also overwhelmed. So many details. She knew he probably had people who did this stuff for him, but even so…wow.

He poured the golden wine into two flutes sitting on the granite counter then handed her one.. “Cheers,” he murmured. They touched glasses with a gentle
clink
, then each drank, their eyes locked on each other.

“Come on.” Raff took her hand and tugged her toward the doors. “Let’s see what it’s like out there.”

They walked out onto a terrace. Yes, it overlooked the ocean, which stretched out dark into the distance. The pale sand glowed faintly, with more palm trees outlined against the sky. Again, she could hear the ocean, relentless, rhythmic water on sand, and she breathed in the scent of it, fresh and briny. A few stars twinkled in the night sky above them.