The Beauty Series Bundle (40 page)

“I didn’t take you for one to bend so easily to my will, Miss McLachlan,” he laughs.

Hearing him call me that is the icing on my cake. “It makes it pretty hard to be tough when you say and do such sweet, romantic things.”

“I didn’t tell you those things or give you the bracelet so I could get laid.”

As if it would take either. “We both know you don’t have to say or give me anything to get me under you. With a fair amount of certainty, I think you can label me as your sure thing.”

“As much as I love hearing that, I do mean it when I say I love you infinitely.”

“I know you do. And I feel the same about you.” I hold out my wrist. “Now, put my bracelet on me so I can show off your love.”

He fastens the clasp around my wrist and brings my hand to his lips for a kiss. “I’ll only be a few minutes getting ready.”

“You never told me where we’re going.”

“I know,” he says, grinning, but offers no further explanation.

As promised, he’s ready in little to no time at all. He’s in a suit, something I haven’t seen him wear in a really long time. It’s platinum with a white and silver pinstriped shirt and a brilliant blue tie that brings out the breathtaking beauty of his eyes. Seeing him in it reminds me of the night we met in that blues club in Wagga Wagga.

“Mmm… still hotter than the devil’s ass.”

“What’s that, love?” He heard me. I know he did. He just wants to hear me say it again.

“I was just saying you still look hotter than the devil’s ass when you wear a suit.”

“Wow. If I’d known you felt that way, I’d have worn one more often.”

“I like you just fine in your jeans and Indiana Jones hat.” Especially the hat. I’ll have to ask him to wear nothing but the hat one day since he asked me to wear nothing but my boots.

“You find the hat I wear to work sexy?”

“Yeah.”

“I didn’t bring it with me.”

“That’s okay.” I catch myself before I blurt out that I can see him wear it when we get back to Australia.

It’s such an automatic thought, the idea of going back with him. But is that what I need to do? The mystery isn’t in whether I want him or not—it’s if I can leave my career and family for a life with him nine thousand miles away.

And I still don’t know the answer.

I
see
the look on Laurelyn’s face and I know she’s worrying about where our relationship is going and how we’ll make things work. But I don’t want this getaway to be about stress or angst. I only want us to have fun. And sex. Lots of sex. “Don’t go there.”

She wrinkles her forehead. “Don’t go where?”

She’s being coy. She knows exactly what I mean. “Wherever it is you go in your head when you get that tense look on your face.”

“Maybe I’m constipated.”

That’s my girl. Take a potentially painful subject and turn it into something funny. “Okay, Miss Comedienne. We’ll pretend you’re constipated instead of worried about our relationship.” I hold out my hand for her. “Come on. Let’s go.”

We step off the elevator and I lead her toward the restaurant I’ve chosen. We’re seated in a room where we’ll be catered to by our own personal chef. “Are you hungry, babe?”

“Yes. I’m starving.”

“Craving anything in particular?”

She grins mischievously. “I want meat.”

“That can be arranged. In fact, you can have a little now and a lot later. I know you like your steak cooked medium but what you’ll have later will be done well.”

“I like things that are done well—especially when it’s me.”

I bring her hand to my lips for a kiss. “I intend on doing you quite well, love.”

“You always do,” she giggles as our server arrives at our table.

After enjoying a lovely meal with my beautiful girl, we leave the restaurant and I know her curiosity is piqued. “Are you ready to know what’s next on the agenda?”

Her eyes are big with anticipation. “Of course.”

“There aren’t any good concerts tonight, so I booked a burlesque show.” She breaks into a huge grin and I have to wonder what it’s all about. “I thought you might like it since it’s traditional Vegas stuff. We don’t have to go if you don’t want to.”

“Oh, I definitely want to go.”

I was afraid she might be pissed off at me for getting tickets to a show where women would be in skimpy costumes, but she clearly isn’t. “You seem pretty excited about it. I was a little worried you might not want to see near-naked women dancing or that you might be mad at me because you’d think I wanted to see them.”

“I’m not a hater. I’m a congratulator and it’s just a show.” God, you’ve got to love a woman with that kind of attitude. “You’re not going to be making out with anyone except me.”

“Damn right. We have private seats, so we might do more than make out.”

“Umm… no.”

She knows I hate hearing her tell me no. “Why not?” As my words come out, I recognize that I sound like a child.

“I have my reasons. You’ll be glad we waited when you see what they are.”

My curiosity is at an all-time high. “You have my mind reeling.”

“Good.”

We’re seated in our private section, hidden from view of most everyone at the show. These seats weren’t easy to score and they cost me a fortune, but I was willing to pay any price because I was planning to have some naughty fun with Laurelyn. What does she have up her sleeve?

At one point during the show, I try to creep my hand up her dress, but she slaps it away and scolds me with her eyes. Literally. “What?”

“You already know what.”

“No, that’s the problem. I don’t know what.” I think I could ease off a little if I did know.

She takes my hand from her leg and cups hers around it. “I have something special for you later and I’m not serving appetizers. So stop or I’m gonna get mad.”

I see there’s no persuading her so I should calm it down. “I can’t help it. I’m frustrated as fuck because I want you so bad.”

“You’re going to have me tonight but you have to learn some patience.”

Easy for her to say when she’s the one withholding sex. “Why should I be patient when I don’t have to be? No one is stopping us but you.”

I see the expression on her face change before she turns to look straight ahead. I don’t know if I’ve hurt her or pissed her off. “I’m sorry, babe. I didn’t mean that the way it sounded.”

She refuses to look at me. That’s not good. “I think you did.”

“Yeah, you’re right. I did, but I don’t want to fight about this. If you say we’re waiting, then we’re waiting. Blue balls or not, I swear I won’t pressure you anymore.”

She seems to soften. “We can go back to the room now if you want.”

She says it so sweet, I feel like a giant dick. “No. I can see that this is important to you, so we’ll wait.”

We finish the show but all I can think about the whole time is getting her back to the room so I can make her scream, which isn’t helping with my growing case of blue balls.

We’re walking through the casino and I see her looking at the tables with curiosity. “Have you ever played?”

“No. I’ve never even been inside a casino.” She’s twenty-three and she’s never gambled? I thought that was one of the first things you did when you turned twenty-one. “It looks like a Disney World for adults. Of course, I’ve never been there, either, so what do I know?”

“Ah, baby! I have so many places I want to take you.” I want to show her the world.

“And there’s no one I’d rather go with.” I don’t doubt her sincerity for a second.

I gesture toward the tables. “You want to play? I’ll teach you what you need to know.”

She looks around and takes it all in for a moment before she points to a craps table. “I think I might like to roll dice.”

We find a hole and I throw a few fat bills in front of the dealer before several stacks of chips are pushed in our direction. I lift the towers and place them in front of her.

“You’ll have to explain it to me because I have no idea what I’m doing.”

“I’m not an expert on all the ins and outs, but I know the basics.” When it’s time for a fresh roll, I show her where to place her bet. “You’ll put your chip here. If he rolls a seven or eleven, then you’re a winner. But if he rolls a two, three, or twelve, then you lose. If he gets a number other than two, three, seven, eleven, or twelve, then he must roll that same number again before a seven to be a winner.”

“Oh, shit. That’s complicated.”

“It’s not once you get the hang of it.”

She’s scared to make bets at first but begins to warm up to the idea after several rolls. In no time at all, she’s looking like a pro and has even gotten brave enough to roll the dice a few times. She’s actually pretty good at it and has some nice runs when she rolls.

It’s not surprising she catches the attention of every man at the table, young and old. I see them noticing her, and although I know she isn’t interested, I don’t care for the way they look at her. I especially don’t like the way they look at her tits and arse when she’s leaning forward to grab the dice and place bets.

I find myself drinking more than I should because I’m feeling a jealous streak. “Are you ready to go back to the room?”

She doesn’t even look at me. “This is so much fun. Are you not having a good time?”

“I’d be having a much better time if we were in the room naked.”

She leans over the table and every guy there is either checking out her cleavage or the rise of her hemline. “Just a little longer.”

Fuck! I’ve created a monster.

Just a little longer turns into another hour and I’m on the drunk side before I mean to be. The combination of blokes ogling Laurelyn and the whiskey has put me in a particularly bad mood. “I’m done here. You can come up to the room when you want. Or not. Whatever.”

She reaches for my arm. “Don’t be that way. I’m just having fun doing something that’s new to me.”

“Yeah—while every man in this casino is blowing his load just looking at you every time you bend over.” They’re all thinking about how they’d give it to her in that position. I know what the fuckers are thinking because I have the same thing on my mind.

“Come on. You’re being a little dramatic, don’t you think?”

Hell, no, I’m not being dramatic. She isn’t sitting back watching these bastards eye-fuck her. “No. They’re all watching you, even the ones here with women.”

“Well, you’re the only one who gets to be with me.” She takes her chips from the table. “Let me cash in and we’ll go upstairs so we can get busy.”

“Hey, hey. Now you’re talking.”

Yeah. I just acted like a toddler throwing a fit, but it totally worked so I don’t give a fuck. I put my drink down on the lower shelf of the craps table because I don’t need another drop of alcohol. I’m not wasted but I definitely have had more to drink than I should have. Laurelyn still has a surprise for me when we get in the room—I’ll bet it’s hot lingerie. She loves to dress up for me.

When we’re back in the room, Laurelyn takes a bag from the top of the closet and tells me to sit in the chair in the living room to wait while she changes. She seems to be taking a long time. “Everything okay in there?”

“Yeah. Just give me another minute. This is trickier than I thought.”

Hmm… that sounds interesting.

She opens the door an inch or two and peeks out through the crack. “Close your eyes.”

I love it when she makes me do that. That means this is going to be fan-fucking-tastic. “Okay. They’re closed.”

I hear the start of slow, seductive music I don’t recognize and she tells me I can open my eyes. I’m more than a little surprised to see her standing in front of me dressed in her sexiest ensemble yet—a black and red showgirl costume. “Fuck me running! You look so damn fine in that, baby.”

“I’m glad you like it.”

“Oh, I more than like it.”

She begins to move to the music. “I don’t have my pole so I’ll have to improvise.”

I put my hand on the crotch of my pants. “There’s only one pole that counts and I’ve got it right here.”

“That mouth of yours… “

“You love this mouth of mine and everything it does to make you come.”

She lifts the back of her hair from her neck and bites her lower lip as she bends at her knees, swaying her hips. “Yes, I do.”

She turns her back to me and slowly swings her bum from side to side in my face. The feathers forming a skirt oscillate back and forth and I think about what I’m going to do to that arse when I get her out of that costume. She doesn’t know, or maybe she does, how it’s killing me to see her look so damn hot without being able to pounce on top of her.

“Talk dirty to me,” she purrs.

That won’t be a problem. “I’m so fucking hard for you right now. When I get you out of that costume, I’m gonna bend you over and fuck you from behind because you’re a dirty girl and I know you love it.”

She bends at her waist and shakes her bum in my face. “Mmm-hmm. I love it when you do me like that.”

Oh, hell! She hasn’t even touched me and I think I may be close to blowing my load just by hearing her talk dirty. “Come here and give me a lap dance.”

She shimmies her way over and sits on my lap with her legs wide apart. She lightly rubs her bottom back and forth across my hard-on and then leans closer until her back is against my chest. She drops her head back and my mouth hovers over her ear. I nip at her earlobe and she moans, “Say something else dirty.”

I suck her earlobe and then release it as I move my hands to her proud breasts standing up in her bustier. I don’t know where it comes from but I suddenly feel this intense emotion overtake me, and it’s not lust. It’s love. And it makes me brave.

I feel my heart racing as I prepare to say the words that just popped into my head. I reach for her face and turn it so she can see me over her shoulder. “Marry me.”

J
ack Henry
just asked me to marry him. Sort of. Maybe. I’m not really sure if that was supposed to be a real proposal. I don’t know if I can take him seriously; he’s drunk as hell. Who knows if tomorrow he’ll remember bringing it up?

I spin around so I’m sitting sideways across his lap. I need to see his eyes. “What did you just say?”

His blue eyes are hazy but they don’t leave mine. “I said, marry me.”

“You’re drunk.”

“Yes, I am a little wasted, so you have a good argument there, but I still know what I’m saying. I’ve been thinking about it for a while—a long while, actually. I love you and I want you to be my wife.”

“I can’t say I’m really all that excited about a drunk proposal.”

“I get that this is really bad. I know my proposal is terrible, but don’t say no. I can do better when I haven’t been drinking. I’ll have some flowers and a ring and I’ll say things to make you swoon.” At least he recognizes the problem.

I can’t put too much thought into the things he’s saying. I’d be a fool to get my hopes up but I must admit I love hearing those words come from his mouth. I’m not fool enough to encourage this talk while he’s shitfaced, so I take him by the hand and tug until he’s up from the chair. I lead him toward the bedroom and we stop beside the bed. I loosen the knot of his tie before I lift it over his head and fling it to the chair in the corner of the room. I unbutton his shirt and pants to remove them before he lies down. I figure it’ll be much easier than trying to undress a drunk, oversized toddler in the bed.

When I have him naked, I barely push my finger against his chest and he falls backwards. “Tim… ber.”

He chuckles at my reference. “Don’t worry. I’ve got some wood for you.”

Even drunk, he’s still witty.

He scoots up in the bed until his head is propped on a pillow. “Strip for me.”

The music has moved on to another sexy tune, so I begin my slow seduction of removing my showgirl outfit. He watches me with heavy, hooded eyes and I wonder if I’ll be able to get naked before he passes out. I decide I probably shouldn’t tarry too long in removing my costume.

When I’m free of the getup, I crawl up the bed and straddle him. I don’t figure I should expect a lot of extracurricular activities since he’s a bit saturated with whiskey, so I sink down on him. He watches me as I ride him and moves his hands to my breasts. He squeeze them as I move up and down his length. “I love your tits so much. They’re fucking perfect.”

He rises and flips me onto my back. He’s kissing down my shoulder onto my chest and then takes one of the rosy pink tips into his mouth. “I can’t wait to see you nurse our babies.”

Whoa. That’s not dirty talk. It’s serious when you start bringing babies into the mix.

I’m not even drunk and my head is spinning.

And he said babies—as in more than one. This Jack Henry is so different than the man I met six months ago. This one tells me he wants things that the other one was hell-bent on never having a part of. Maybe I’ll regret it, but I decide I want to explore this a little more while his tongue is loose. “You changed your mind about wanting babies?”

He doesn’t answer so I grab the top of his hair to pull his mouth from my nipple. “You changed your mind about getting married and wanting kids?”

“Yeah.”

I grab his face to make him look at me. “Why?”

“Because I love you and I want to be your husband.” He slides down and kisses my stomach. “And I want to see your belly grow with a part of me in it.” He rubs me there. “I wanted you to be pregnant when I found you, but you didn’t know that, did you?”

“I sort of suspected it based on how you acted and the things you said.”

“It’s probably better to be married for a while without a kid on the way.”

“I think that’s highly recommended.”

“Yeah. ‘Cause I’m gonna want to fuck you a lot.” He enters me and groans, “Oh, this is so good. I’m gonna do this every day after I marry you.”

It’s all drunken talk so I probably can’t pay it any attention, but it still sends shivers down my spine to hear him say things about marrying me and having babies. I have to question if he means what he’s saying. After all, he is wasted. How sincere can he possibly be when he’s in this kind of shape? There’s only one way to tell—see what he says when he’s sober.

H
e doesn’t
mention marriage or babies the next day. Or the next. I’m beginning to think he doesn’t remember our discussion at all. Sure. I have no idea what I’d say if he asked me for real, but it pisses me off that he hasn’t brought it up once. It’s like the whole conversation didn’t happen.

Maybe he doesn’t have a recollection. He was definitely wasted. But I want him to remember saying those things to me. I want him to say them again when he’s not shitfaced—even if I’m not sure what my response would be.

We’re back in Nashville and I have two days before I return to the studio with the band. That means we only have two weeks before Jack Henry goes home. I don’t want him to go. I wish he could stay here with me forever, but time isn’t our friend. It never has been. Our moments together are always the grains of sand falling through the hourglass. A few months here. Another month there. I’m sick of having time restraints placed on this relationship like we have an expiration date.

It’s Saturday morning and we’re lounging on the couch. Jack Henry’s head is in my lap while I’m reading my latest romance novel and I’m running my fingers through his hair. I know how much he loves it. He’s relaxed, eyes closed, and I suspect he may have drifted off until he asks, “What do you want to do today?”

I don’t want to do anything but be here with him without any distractions. “This.”

“And tonight?”

Same thing. “A lot more of this. Is that okay?”

“Suits me.” He reminds me of a dog lying on its back, getting a good petting.

“Going back to work will cut in on our together time.” There. I said it.

“I’m not excited about that.”

Neither of us has mentioned the tick of the clock, but that doesn’t mean we should continue to act like it doesn’t exist. “Two weeks,” I sigh. “It’s going to fly and be over before we know it.”

“I know. What are we gonna do when that day gets here? Because it’s coming sooner than we’d like.”

“I don’t know.”

He opens his eyes and looks at me. “It will kill me to leave here without you.”

I put my hand on his face and stroke the scruff I’ve come to love so much. “It will kill me to watch you leave me.”

“So that’s where we’re at?” he asks. “We want to be together but don’t have a solution for how we’ll make that happen?”

I don’t answer because I don’t want to admit the truth. I wish I hadn’t said anything because it’s too hard to face. I prefer to pretend I’m not looking at losing him again.