Sweet Desire: (A Sinful Nights Short Story) (2 page)

Whew.

Sounded like this day
called for one of her favorite pinup dresses. Pressing her finger to
her lips, she ran her hand across her vast collection of dresses —
the white one with an orange pattern, the sapphire blue number, the
red pencil skirt style one.

So many to choose from,
some days it was hard to pick.

“Ah, this is the
dress,” she declared, when she landed on the black pinup dress with
the cherry pattern.

Cherries were just
so…tempting.

She slipped into it,
zipped up the back, and struck a pose in front of the mirror. Blond
curls, red lips, sexy dress. Why yes. She was indeed ready to tackle
the day.

Besides, today could be
the day she’d meet the kind of man who’d stare at her
unabashedly. Who’d flirt, and she’d flirt back. Who’d be bold
enough to walk right up to her.

A frisson of excitement
raced through her, and she shuddered as she imagined her fantasy man.
But she doubted she’d meet him today. Or the next day or the next.
That was simply wishful thinking.

What a wish it was
though.

* * *

A few more hours.

The tension in him
tightened knowing he’d be seeing the detective later today. But he
was determined to get to the bottom of this. When he met with John
Winston, he’d do everything in his power to glean the information
he needed about the murder investigation, all while keeping his own
secrets about the past airtight and sealed.

“Isn’t that right,
Johnny Cash?” he said to his dog, as they headed up the steps to
his house after a solo workout — a quick three-mile run as the sun
rose.

The dog didn’t answer
him.

But that was okay. He
still liked talking to his pooch about the things he didn’t tell
anyone else. Johnny Cash knew everything. His dog was privy to all
the details of the past that had been put in lockdown.

Once inside, he set
down a bowl of water for his loyal companion, who greedily slurped it
up. “You’re a thirsty guy,” he said, tousling his fur.

Then he headed to the
shower, and stripped out of his workout clothes. As he stood under
the hot stream, he concentrated on the day ahead of him. Last night’s
meeting had gone well with his new client, and Ryan had a final phone
call with the VP at the company this morning to confirm the deal.

As he scrubbed shampoo
in his hair, he ran over the rest of his agenda. Reviewing a
contract, lunch with a corporate client who wanted to upgrade his
security services, then the detective meeting, and a free evening
ahead of him.

Already, he sensed he’d
need that free time. Need it to unwind after discussing an
eighteen-year-old murder that still weighed on his family, and
probably always would. Perhaps he’d spend the night playing a round
of pool solo in his den.

Though it sure would be
nice to have the right kind of company at his pool table sometime. As
he pictured landing a shot in the corner pocket, a favorite image
flashed into his brain.

A gorgeous woman, with
curves and sexy lips, perched on the edge of his pool table, wearing
only stunning lingerie. The come-hither kind that pushed up all her
assets. He groaned at the tantalizing vision his dirty mind
constructed. She’d be sultry, voluptuous, and willing. So willing
to be taken the way he wanted to take her. She’d give herself
freely, spread her legs, run a hand between them, trailing her
fingertips sexily across the fabric of her panties.

Her
wet
panties.

Since she’d want him
as much as he wanted to have her.

Yeah, that was a nice
image for his shower. He liked that quite a lot. She’d be hot, and
ready, trembling with the intense need to be touched, to be tasted,
to come.

She’d be close, so
damn close, and then he’d tell her to beg for it.

And she would, because
she wanted that too, wanted to be told what to do. With legs spread,
eyes all glossy with desire, and red lips parted, she’d whisper,
“Please make me come.”

He’d heed that call.
He’d answer that request. Controlling all her pleasure, whispering
filthy words, keeping her bound to him, he’d give her all the bliss
she deserved.

She’d come hard for
him. Shuddering, and desperate for more.

Ryan breathed out
deeply, as he washed the suds from his hair, and rinsed off his body.
That was his dream woman.

For now though, he had
a busy day ahead of him, so he dried off and dressed, pulling on
boxers, charcoal gray slacks, and a crisp button-down. He scanned the
neckwear dangling on his tie hanger. A good two dozen ties to choose
from, but he grabbed an emerald green one, flashing back to something
his brother-in-law’s brother, Clay, had said to him when they’d
chatted at a family event a week ago.

“A man always needs a
lucky tie.”

Ryan couldn’t agree
more.

He stepped in front of
the mirror in his bathroom, knotting his tie, and tightening it.

After one hell of an
unlucky past, he could sure use some luck today.

As he turned into the
parking lot at municipal headquarters, the tightness in his chest
intensified, like a coil. He took a deep, fueling breath and did his
best to narrow his focus to doing everything he could in the next
hour to figure out if the guilt or innocence of someone he loved was
changing. To protect his secrets even if he was asked to serve them
up. To learn what the fuck the detective knew about his family that
he didn’t know.

He cut the engine, shut
the door, then headed around the corner. As soon as he reached the
sidewalk in front of the building, he nearly stopped in his tracks,
because…

Holy shit.

She was a vision from
heaven.

If heaven delivered
sinfully sexy women right to the goddamn street in front of him.

* * *

She thanked the valet
and slid into the front seat of her sleek Aston Martin, loving the
feel of the leather seats, and the firm grip of the steering wheel.
With her big white sunglasses shielding her blue eyes from the late
afternoon rays, she pulled onto the Strip, weaving through traffic as
she drove to the building where her brother, a homicide detective,
worked. John would surely be busy, questioning suspects, assembling
clues, and trying to crack cases wide open.

Briefly, she wondered
what he’d be working on today, who he’d be meeting with, and how
he’d apply his single-minded focus to keeping the streets of Vegas
safe. Then, the thought flitted away when a prime parking spot
outside the municipal building opened up. She nabbed it, and turned
off the engine. She reached for her purse to grab a small notepad
that had slipped out of it on the front seat. As she straightened her
spine, she peered over the top of her sunglasses, and mouthed ‘
oh
m
y.’

A delicious tingle
raced through her, between her breasts and down to her belly.

One of the most
handsome men she’d ever seen in her life had just stepped out of a
truck in the parking lot. He had light brown hair and wore the kind
of clothes that made it clear he had a strong chest, muscular arms,
and a flat stomach.

Probably a toned one
too.

That tingle turned into
sparks that raced through her bloodstream.

As she opened the car
door, she allowed herself to gaze at the gorgeous man, drinking him
in, from the aviator shades, to the crisp shirt, to the hint of a
smile.

Then, she realized, he
was looking at her too.

This was why she never
left home without her best lingerie on. You never knew when it would
bring you this kind of good fortune. Because fortune was smiling on
her afternoon.

The light was playing
tricks on him.

The golden haze of the
late afternoon sun, and its halo glow, was some kind of illusion. No
way, no how, was it possible for anyone to be so gorgeous that she
actually shimmered.

Mirage
was the more plausible explanation for the platinum blonde stepping
out of the Aston Martin at three o’clock in the afternoon on a
Thursday in July, looking as if she belonged in a gangster movie. She
was the woman they all fought over. The woman who brought the men to
their knees.

From the pinup dress,
to the pouty lips, to the gleaming car that stretched a city block—or
so it seemed—she was…

Glamorous. Sultry.
Voluptuous.

Ryan’s fantasy woman.

This was lust at first
sight. Pure, unadulterated lust knocking around in his chest and
threatening to make matters in his slacks harder than he needed them
to be right now.

But he was willing to
deal with that problem because the woman could not be ignored. A
groan rolled around in his throat as he stared shamelessly over the
top of his shades. He walked along the palm-tree lined sidewalk that
framed police headquarters, cycling through his best opening lines,
even though he had a hunch a woman like that—a woman who wore a
black dress with a cherry pattern and bright white sunglasses—had
heard them all. Busty and bold enough to pull up to Vegas’s
municipal building at midday looking like sin come to life, this
woman wasn’t going to be wooed by lines or a standard
come-here
often?

With one hand on the
car door, she glanced to the left, away from him, and pushed her
sunglasses on top of her hair. In her other hand, she held a phone, a
notepad, and a pen. She bumped her rear against the car door,
shutting it with her ass.

What a lucky car door.

He half wished she’d
drop the pen, just so he could swoop in and pick it up. Bend down,
grab it before it rattled to the street, and gallantly present it.

Then he’d get her
number with that pen. She’d be the type to push up the cuff of his
shirtsleeve and write it on his arm.

He scoffed at himself.
As if that would work. But something had to, because the clock was
ticking and he had two minutes to spare.

The sun pelted its hot
desert rays at him, radiating off the sidewalks, as he ran a hand
along his tie and cleared his throat. She looked up from her phone,
and instantly they locked eyes. Hers were blue like the sea. As she
caught his gaze, she arched an eyebrow.

This was it. No time
for lines. Just fucking talk to the gorgeous creature. “Seems I’ve
been caught staring,” he said as he reached her, claiming a patch
of concrete real estate a foot away.

“I’m afraid I’m
guilty on that count, too,” she fired back, her voice laced with a
torch-singer sultriness, her words telling him to keep going.

She had the pen in her
hand and she twirled it once absently.

He tipped his forehead
toward it. “Incidentally, I’m astonishingly good at picking up
pens that beautiful women drop outside our fine city’s government
buildings.”

Her lips twitched.
Red
.
Cherry red and full. He wanted to know what they tasted like. How
they felt. What she liked to do with them.

She brought the pen to
her lips, danced it between them, raised her eyebrows in an
invitation, and then let it drop. It clattered to the sidewalk. “Is
that so?”

The pen was like a
promise. Of something more. Of flirting, and then flirting back. Of
phone numbers to follow. And then some. Oh yeah, so much and then
some.

“That is so,” he
said in a firm voice, bending down to pick up the writing implement,
just as Sinatra’s ‘Fly Me to the Moon’ crooned from her phone.
He rose, and she was tapping her screen, sliding her thumb across it.

“Must answer this.
But thank you so much for the pen. By the way, I like your tie.”
She reached out to trail a finger down the silky fabric, her hand
terribly close to his chest. Then she held up that finger, asking him
to wait.

“So good to hear from
you,” she said into the phone, keeping her eyes on him the whole
time. “I can’t wait to see you tonight at the gala at Aria,”
she said, arching an eyebrow at Ryan as she emphasized that last
word. “It’s going to be a fabulous event and we’ll raise so
much money. My only hope is there will be some gorgeous man there in
a green tie who can afford a last-minute ticket.”

He shot her a grin—a
lopsided smile that said yes, the man in the green tie could
absolutely afford a ticket.

He nodded his RSVP to
the gala. She waved goodbye and walked down the street.

Suddenly, Ryan had
plans that night.

Good thing he’d worn that lucky
green tie.

THE
END

Did you enjoy this
brief glimpse of Ryan and Sophie’s sweet desires? If you want to
read more about what happens next with this kind of chemistry, check
out the full-length novel,
SINFUL
DESIRE
, available everywhere!

For
a taste of Ryan and Sophie’s sexy times,
here’s a teaser of
the night at the gala…..

“From the moment I
met you, I knew I’d have my hands on you. You knew it, too. Felt
it, too.”

She nodded as she
trembled from the trace of his finger. “I did feel it.”

He brought his mouth to
her ear and spoke softly. “If I ever do or say something you don’t
like, tell me. Or smack me. I only want to bring you pleasure.” His
words were both sexy and earnest. The combination sent flutters
through her belly. “Immense pleasure.”

“You already are. So
tell me something else that’s true. Something else you know,” she
said, loving the hot, dirty way he talked to her as he touched her.

“I’m going to look
into your eyes like I want to take you,” he said, his eyes blazing
with desire. “That look will drive you wild. And you’ll swallow
nervously because you don’t know me, and it’s odd wanting a
stranger as much as you do.” He was reading her like a teenage
diary. On the one hand, she was nervous. She didn’t know him at
all. But she was also aroused beyond words. Beyond reason. Beyond any
normal limits.