Stripped Down (9 page)

Settling their joined hands on the console, he reveled in the fact that, for the first time in a very long time, he didn’t feel alone. She was here, now, chasing away the darkness that clawed at him and replacing it with the realization she was the first breath of hope he’d had in what seemed like forever. Even if she damned him later for it, he’d take whatever he could get.

* * *

C
ASS FOUGHT THE
increasing urge to squirm with every traffic light that delivered them closer to her apartment. She might have kissed Dalton in public minutes ago, but no one knew them. Knew
him.
They were just some innocuous couple kissing in the rain. But once they got to the apartment complex, though, she might run into someone she knew, someone she’d have to introduce Dalton to.

Shame pushed her to slide lower in her seat.
Dress it up a thousand ways, you know what your problem is. He’s a stripper.
And that irked her. Not that it bothered her that he took his clothes off for a living, but that she reacted the way she did. She didn’t want to be that person. Behind closed doors, or in little dives where no one she socialized with hung out, she could pretend it was all okay, pretend she was urbane and chic and fine with everything. But in potentially social situations? Situations where she might run into peers or competitors? Even—or especially—her family? “Hi. This is Dalton Chase. We’re lovers. He’s a stripper.”

And yet, it
was
a valid concern. Much as she hated it, she was smart enough to realize that there were double standards in business; what would pass in a man’s social life would be humiliating in a woman’s.

Still, her worries made her feel more like her father’s daughter than ever before—more worried about perception than anything else.

And what about happiness?
her conscience whispered.
What’s that worth to you?

That might be the biggest question of all. There were a thousand excuses she could make to bow out of this thing with Dalton, but none of them was going to absolve her from being a jerk for the sake of her business. She sank even lower in her seat.

“Go much lower and your shoulders are going to get wedged in your ears.” When she didn’t answer, he chanced a longer glance despite traffic. “Hey. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” Shoving herself out of the wallowing position, she plucked her wet sweater away from her chest and shivered. “Ready to get out of this thing.”

“Trust me. I’m ready to help you with that.”

If he knew what she was thinking, he wouldn’t be. He’d ditch her. She wouldn’t be able to blame anyone but herself for his exit stage left. Why did she overcomplicate things? Why couldn’t she just choose happiness? After all, they’d both agreed this was a short-term thing that didn’t require analyzing. It just was.

He turned into the Harbormaster’s parking garage without comment.

Her hand tightened around his as she nodded at the valet. “He’ll park the car.”

Dalton’s fingers tapped out a rapid beat against the steering wheel as he stared out the windshield. “You know, the concierge on duty is the same one who was on last night when I came in.”

Cass’s stomach somersaulted around her abdomen in a wild, championship-worthy routine. Burying her fist below her diaphragm, she nodded. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. Why don’t I park the car and go in a side door so she doesn’t get nosy about me hanging around?”

She was embarrassed to be relieved. “If you want.”

“It would be easier for both of us.” He paused, seeming to consider his words. “The club might get a little testy about me spending the weekend with a client, and I can’t afford that.” His voice, low and fervent, held a desperation she couldn’t quite interpret.

Closing her eyes and drawing a deep breath, she shoved her hands in her sweater pockets. “You can’t afford for this to turn into something? What does that mean?” She stole a quick glance in his direction.

“It means I could lose my job.” Stepping out of the car, he slipped around to open her door for her. He hooked a finger under her chin and nudged it gently so she peered up into his face. “I need this job, Cass. It’s not a matter of want.”

And that’s what she was—a matter of want.
Wrapping her arms around her middle, Cass nodded. “Take the keys and head in the side door. I’ll go through the lobby.”

“Thank you, Cass. It’s...easier for me this way.”

She stared at him, standing gorgeous and wet under the portico. “That’s not something you often do, though, is it? Take the easy route?”

He winced. “For what it’s worth, no, I usually end up with more on my shoulders than I can manage. Atlas, I’m not.”

One corner of her mouth fluttered up. “See you upstairs.”

“Don’t take too long,” he teased, leaning in to give her a short, thorough kiss.

“No worries. I’m efficient. Stairs are right over there.” She tossed him her key ring. “You’ll need the key to get in if you beat me.”

He laughed, turning toward the side entrance. “The cardio will be good for me.”

“I may beat
you
to the top.”

“Is that a challenge?” he asked, his face alight with amusement.

“Consider that the gauntlet being thrown. I hereby challenge you to a race to the top.”

“Challenge accepted.” Spinning around, he took off for the stairs.

Cass strode toward the main entrance, through the giant glass doors and was halfway across the lobby when her personal hell called out.

“Cass?”

Every hair on her body stood on end as she slowed to a stop and faced not only the concierge but also her father’s right-hand man. He stood tall and straight, his suit impeccable and a huge bouquet of wrapped roses cradled in one arm.

“Marcus,” she said, inclining her head.

“Your father requests you arrive at dinner at seven-thirty instead, as he’s had an issue arise.”

Cass huffed out a heavy breath. “And you needed to deliver this message in person? A simple phone call would have sufficed.”

“I wanted to see you, Cassidy.” He stepped closer, unbuttoning the single button of his designer suit. “These are for you, beautiful.” He handed her the flowers with smooth surety even as his dark brown eyes filled with regret. Perfectly sculpted eyebrows settled together on an admirably handsome face and conveyed the perfect level of concern and remorse. Everything about Marcus seemed designed, and it irritated her. Not a single scar. Not a single tattoo. Not a single blemish. He wasn’t real, and during their short-lived relationship, he had taught her she valued authenticity. “I’ve missed you.”

“I appreciate you delivering the message, but you could have called. Rest assured, I’ll be on time to dinner.”

“And on my comment that I’ve missed you?” he pressed, his tone neutral and so reminiscent of her father’s she fought the shudder that ran though her body.

“Thank you for the sentiment.” She shifted, anxious to end this conversation. “I’m sure I’ll see you tonight.”

“Undoubtedly.” He stepped even closer, invading her space as he reached out to trace her cheek with his fingertips. “I’m glad you accepted my invitation.”

She backed away. “Oh, no. No, no, no. This was an invitation from my father, not you.”

“I’m part of the evening’s discussions,” he answered with smooth control. “Seven-thirty tonight, Cassidy.” Pivoting, he strolled from the building without a backward glance.

Mirroring his actions, she spun and headed for the elevators, all thoughts of the race with Dalton gone.

8

E
RIC STOOD INSIDE
Cass’s apartment waiting for her to make it past the concierge. Shame burned up the back of his neck. He’d never let anyone fight his battles for him, and he wasn’t about to start now. He’d deal with the fallout from the club if he had to.

Yanking the door open, he found Cass standing in the hallway, hand raised to knock.

“Where were you?” he asked, taking in her wide eyes, pale complexion and the $200 worth of roses she held in her arms. “Shopping?”

“No,” she said on a bitter laugh. “Fighting off an overly attentive suitor. Feel better?”

Jealousy churned in his belly. “Ironically, no.”

Then she looked up at him with eyes so shadowed he realized he hadn’t even scratched the surface of who this dynamic woman really was. He pulled her into his arms, and the sweet crush of rose petals wrapped around them as he held her.

“What happened, baby?”

For the longest time she didn’t say anything. Then, in a low voice, she said, “Just a guy who works for my dad. Thinks I’m part of the compensation package, I guess.”

The joke held too much truth to be funny.

Eric’s arms tightened around her. He was furious he hadn’t been there, enraged he had left her to defend herself.

“Trouble breathing down here, Dalton.”

He forced himself to meet her gaze as he relaxed his grip on her.

“Thanks.” Wiggling an arm free, she traced the deep V between his brows. “What’s this?”

“I should have been there, Cass. You shouldn’t have had to deal with that on your own.” He choked the sharp words out.

“It wasn’t your responsibility.”

“Bullshit.”

“What makes you think I need you to take care of my problems?” she demanded, pulling away from him. “You’re not my boyfriend.”

The smell of roses intensified as she struggled a bit before he finally let her go. “That may be true, but I would’ve enjoyed it.”

“You were doing so well. Don’t go all caveman on me now.”

“Caveman?”

“You know, dragging me around by the hair and making decisions for my well-being and all that shit. I’ve lived alone for years, handled jerks of every shape, size and color. I’ve got this. He might be a perfect catch according to my family’s standards, but I’m not interested.”

Fighting to keep his tone level, he met her stare. “A ‘perfect catch,’ meaning he has money and prestige and social position, I assume.”

“Pretty much.” Turning, she started down the hall toward the kitchen. “I’m going to put these in water.”

“You’re keeping them?”

“Yeah. They can’t help that they were delivered by an asshole.”

An unfamiliar feeling burned through him. He was
not
jealous of the stranger. Why should he be? He’d only just met Cass and they’d had a great time. Things had been great—and casual. Right up until the mystery man had shown up. Watching her ass sway as she stalked down the hall in a Fashion Week–worthy walk, his fingers twitched. He wanted his hands on her. He wanted his mouth on her. He wanted...her.

He silently followed her. She yanked a cabinet open in the kitchen and dropped the flowers on the island. But instead of a vase, she retrieved a shot glass and a bottle of tequila. Pouring with shaking hands, she spilled the liquor all over the counter.

Eric stepped in close and closed a hand over hers. “A little early for a drink, don’t you think?”

“I never do this.” She looked up at him with impossibly wide eyes.
“Never.”

“Don’t start now.”

The tequila bottle connected with the granite countertop with a sharp crack when she set it down. “You’re right. I just... I have to...” She swallowed and wiped a bead of sweat from her brow. “I don’t even know,” she said on a desperate laugh. “He scared me, Dalton.”

“Did he hurt you?” He fought the urge to get the guy’s name and kill him slowly. That wasn’t what she needed.

“No. Just rattled me.”

Eric gently drew her into his arms. They stood there, chest to chest, her heart beating out a wild rhythm while his hammered violently against his rib cage.

He wanted to give her sweet words of reassurance, but the cost of those words was potential heartache. Everything he longed to say to her could come back to him tenfold. But he could give her one thing, though....

He pulled the thick elastic band out of her hair and let the caramel mass fall around her shoulders. Her hair was silk against his hands as he ran his fingers through the loose curls. Fisting her hair, he pulled her head back and reveled in her gasp. Tender skin gave under his teeth’s sharp nips, though he never bit her very hard. This wasn’t about that kind of play. This was about helping her forget the madness of the moment just past, the impending dinner with her father and, above all, obliterating the mystery man’s words and actions.

She clung to his shoulders, her nails digging into him with desperation. “Please,” she breathed.

Nibbling and licking his way up her neck, he traced the shell of her ear with the tip of his tongue. “Please what, Cass?”

Turning her chin aside, she gave him full access to the lush column of her neck.

To hell with what this moment was and wasn’t. He closed his teeth over the juncture of neck and shoulder and bit her.

“Dalton,” she moaned, sagging in his embrace.

As he caught her, he acknowledged there were times his strength came in handy. Never had it made him feel so alive, though. One lithe leg wrapped around his thigh as she moved against him, rubbing her sex against the hard ridge of his erection. Every hip-rolling thrust, every sigh and gasp and sound of encouragement pushed him closer to the tenuous brink of control. Deep blue eyes stared up at him from beneath heavy lids. Long, capable fingers laced together behind his head and pulled him close.

Their lips came together in a rough joining. He slanted his mouth over hers and worked at her, swallowing her small sounds of pleasure. She tugged him in tighter. Then she opened her mouth to him, darting her tongue out to trace over his. She tasted faintly of syrup and bacon. Her damp clothes smelled like rain and fabric softener and a scent he already recognized as all her. Long lashes fluttered closed as the kiss deepened, pulling him under as surely as she herself sank.

Strong, capable fingers massaged his neck and tangled in his hair. She went up on her toes and pulled him in closer still, meeting him more than halfway.

He let her come.

A soft, hungry sound escaped her.

His answer was silent but unmistakable. Grabbing her around the waist, he spun and set her on the island, parking himself between her legs. He tugged her ass forward so she hovered on the counter’s edge. She’d have to choose to trust him not to let her fall, and he wanted that trust. Needed it. Bad.