Yours for the Night (4 page)

“Let me make you a drink—I was having a bourbon. You want one?”

“That would be nice,” she said, turning as he crossed to the bar where a bottle of expensive whiskey had apparently just been opened. “Neat, please.”

He smiled. “A woman after my own heart.”

“I overheard you telling Mary’s husband you’re a bodyguard?”

“Yeah. It’s a family business. I started it, and then my three brothers joined in,” he said, handing her a glass and tipping the edge of his against hers before taking another sip.

“So how many more like you are there at home?” she said, making him smile.

“Three more, though I’m the oldest.”

“And you’re all bodyguards? Pretty exciting work.”

“Sometimes,” he agreed as they crossed to the sofa and sat. “Sometimes it can be boring.”

Tiffany found that hard to believe. Let him do a twelve-hour shift showing diamonds to socialites if he wanted to know about boring.

“What do you do?” he asked.

“I work for our family business, too. A small jewelry store downtown.”

“How long?”

“Just a few months now. It pays well, and I do like shiny things,” she said, laughing and looking at the chandelier again, and then at her own rings. She’d worn a few of her favorite rings, and a bracelet, and she really did love how they added a special something to the moment. “Love of jewels runs in the family. My mom even named me and my sisters after jewelry.”

“Ah. Tiffany’s. And your sisters are?”

“Ruby and Jewel.”

“So there are more like you at home?” he said, echoing her tone, making her laugh. He was way too charming.

She smiled. “Two more, both married. And our youngest brother Nick.”

“It sounds like you enjoy the work.”

“It’s okay. It pays the bills for now and helps out my parents, and I’ve been able to replace all the stuff I lost, but I want to move on to something better soon,” she said vaguely, toying with the idea of telling him she really wanted to be a detective.

What if he laughed? Worse, what if he told someone at the wedding? Better to let that stay a secret, she decided, though the urge to tell
someone
was eating at her.

Garrett frowned. “Lost? Did you have an earthquake?”

She smiled. “Well, we do have those here, but in this case it was because of a robbery.”

His face became very serious then, and he looked her in the eye. “You weren’t hurt?”

“No, I wasn’t even home. But I did have to replace everything I had, right down to the toaster.”

“I didn’t think toasters were hot on the black market,” he said.

“Yeah, me, either.”

“No insurance?”

“Unfortunately no,” she said, expecting him to offer the same look of surprise and recrimination that others did when she revealed her lapse in personal responsibility, but he just nodded sympathetically. No way was she going to let him know it had been her former boyfriend who had ripped her off. She might as well wear a T-shirt that said I Have Poor Judgment.

“That sucks” was all he said, his tone nothing but sympathetic.

“Yeah, it did,” she said, and took a sip of her drink, though the smooth whiskey didn’t even touch the heat caused by the way his fingers were suddenly stroking the back of her neck, ever so gently. She swallowed hard, the touch making her glad she was sitting as she was sure her knees would not work if she was upright.

He slid closer, put his drink on the coffee table in front of him, and then hers.

“That’s nice bourbon,” she said, turning to face him slightly.

“It is, but I’m betting it will taste better on you,” he said, sliding his hand around her neck and pulling her close for a deep kiss. Tiffany was pretty sure she forgot to breathe, and was okay with that. He pulled back, obviously feeling the same way.

“Okay?”

“Better than,” she said, desperately wanting more.

This is a good thing,
she thought as he nibbled at her neck, his thumb moving over her nipple in a way that made her knees tremble.

“Oh,” she moaned, thinking everything was more than fine as Garrett slid a hand up inside her skirt, brushing his knuckles along the very damp material of her thong. She turned more fully to him, her hands gripping his shoulders.

“Don’t stop.” Her eyes met his as he dipped his hand inside the thin strip of material.

“Whatever you want,” he promised against her lips, his fingers finding the very swollen, sensitive pearl of her clit and stroking her to a quick, sharp orgasm that had her clinging to him, riding it out.

“I want everything,” she said against his ear, sliding her hand down the front of his jeans and massaging him through the material. “And I want it without all of these clothes in the way.”

His nostrils flared as he kissed her hard, pressing her up against a cushion. Tiffany had to almost pinch herself to believe she was here with this movie star of a man, doing these wonderful things with him. It wasn’t as if her previous boyfriends hadn’t been good-looking, but they weren’t anything close to Garrett.

Garrett was older than any of the other men she had known, and she wondered how old he was, exactly. Not that it mattered. She liked it. From what he’d said of his wife, Tiffany estimated Garrett was somewhere in his mid-thirties.

She couldn’t imagine the hell he must have gone through losing his wife, but it had given him a kind of quiet integrity that shot his innate sexiness through the roof. Strong-chinned and broad-shouldered, classiness exuded from his posture, from his sure movements. Combined with the experience that he had in life—and the fact that he had so intensely loved and lost—it was all enough to make a girl go for it, just like she was doing now.

Things were heating up fast, and they wasted no time getting rid of each others’ clothing. The lights were on, and she fought the urge to cover up as he took her in, that serious gaze studying every inch of her.

It was erotic but disconcerting to have a man look at her like this. When Tiffany looked at herself that closely in the mirror, she wasn’t always pleased with what she found, noting all of her faults. Compared to what she saw in magazines, her breasts were too round and too heavy. Going braless hadn’t been an option for her since she turned fifteen.

Though she ran almost every day, chugging up and down the steep hills of the city, her thighs never slimmed down as much as she wanted. Lately, she’d gotten a little hippy from the darned croissants that came from the bakery across the street from the jewelry store. Right now, she wished she had more willpower, except when it came to Garrett of course.

“You’re gorgeous. Sexy as hell,” he said, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed hard, not taking his eyes off her.

The way he said it, the hungry expression on his face—as if he wanted to eat her whole—made it easy to believe him. His ready erection hardened even more, proof of his desire.

“Thank you,” she said, feeling slightly shy, but a whole lot turned on. “You, too.”

She wished she had something more clever, sexier, to say, but he didn’t give her time to think about it, pulling her flush against him.

Oh. He felt really,
really
good, she thought hazily, every inch of their hot skin in contact, everything soft about her and hard about him meeting up perfectly.

“I love when you do that,” he said as he lowered to explore her breasts with his lips. He seemed to like them a lot, she thought with a soft smile.

“When I do what?” she gasped as he sucked a nipple in between his lips, rubbing his tongue against it in a way that zoomed all the blood in her head straight south.

“Sigh. I love how you sigh…” he said hoarsely.

“Oh, good, because you’re making me do that a lot,” she said, but her sighs turned into moans as he drew harder on one breast and then the other, paying homage to that part of her anatomy for a good, long time until other parts were screaming for attention, too.

That would have to wait, she thought. Curling her fingers into the soft hair at the back of his neck, she gently tugged him upwards.

“My turn,” she said, planting a hand on his chest and pushing him gently back against the sofa. He stretched out before her, and for a few minutes all she wanted to do was look at him.

“Whatever you want,” he said again, bending his arms to fold his hands behind his head, as if he were a fantasy buffet set out for her pleasure.

Which she supposed he was.

Dark hair fell over his forehead, mussed by her hands, and his eyes were like hot, melted caramel as he looked back at her. His was an athlete’s build, muscled but toned, not bulky. He had a little bit of hair on his chest, but not a lot. She followed the silky path of it leading down to his groin to take in the sights there, too. The vision of strong, muscular thighs made her tighten. Everything about him was perfect. She bit her lip, trying to decide where to start first.

She straddled his thighs, the touch of his skin next to hers making her close her eyes again for a moment in sheer bliss. Reaching down to wrap her hand around him, she drew her fingers over the head of his cock and then down along the shaft, seeing what he liked. Tiffany continued to touch, exploring down underneath the root of his cock and back up the length of him again. He groaned in pleasure, arching a little into her touch, as if wanting more. His muscles stood out in relief as he did so, making him even more spectacular, so she did it again.

“You’re a tease,” he said, his breath shorter, but he didn’t sound upset about the fact.

“Maybe a bit,” she admitted coyly. “Just getting to know you better.”

“By all means, get to know me as well as you like,” he said.

Their eyes met and she didn’t look away as she planted her hands on the back of the sofa, on either side of his shoulders.

“I suppose we should get the disclaimers out of the way first, huh?” she said and told him what he needed to know, delighted to discover that they were both as healthy and protected as could be.

Kissing her way down his chest, and then pausing to lick the crown of his shaft before taking him in her mouth, she was gratified by his intense response as he groaned loudly. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw his fingers curl into the upholstery. Nice.

A low moan shuddered through his body as she enjoyed learning every inch of him with her lips and tongue. When she knew he was close, she stopped and moved to kiss the inside of his thigh, nipping him there, feeling him jerk in response.

“That’s enough, you siren,” he growled playfully, rising up to standing, and carrying her to the bed where he towered over her.

“You’re wicked,” he accused, his eyes hot, jaw tense as he reached for the box of condoms he’d bought on the way back to the room.

“You have no idea,” she said, wanting to play up the fantasy as he sheathed himself. They’d agreed that a little extra protection never hurt. Tiffany also secretly liked the extra texture a condom could provide—and they typically made men last longer. She so wanted this to last.

Touching her hands to her breasts, the look on his face as he watched encouraged her to do more, his cock nudging the entrance to her body and then slipping inside as their eyes met. She arched to take more of him, sighing again as he pushed deeper.

He took it slow, the fullness of him gradually filling her completely. She gasped when he was planted completely inside, her fingers grasping his shoulders as he lowered down to kiss her.

“Wow, that’s good,” he said, the words choked from him, as if he was also feeling the unbearable pressure that held back pleasure she could only guess at; the heat and need to move stalled only by the amazing feeling of fullness that she didn’t want to lose just yet.

“Better than good,” she managed to agree, her body accommodating him, adjusting to him as he pulled back slowly, then thrust forward again, making her cry out, lifting her hips up to meet his rhythm.

Heat suffused the space between and around them as their movements became more focused and intense. Wordless, he pulled her legs up around his hips, fastening her to him even tighter, and rocking against her clit so that she felt herself tipping quickly over the edge.

“Yes, yes,” Tiffany panted as she gripped his shoulders, losing track of everything but the release that seemed to be building through her whole body.

When he kissed her, his tongue doing to her mouth what his cock did inside her body, her mind blanked, her body clenching and trembling as they groaned into each other, never breaking the kiss and not slowing their movements until the last ripple of climax had faded.

The heat they’d generated left them sweaty, tired and, Tiffany thought, more satisfied than she could ever remember being in her life. Garrett rolled to his side, but brought her with him, his arms still around her.

It was impossibly sweet and made her feel all kinds of things you weren’t supposed to feel for a guy you were having a wedding hook-up with.

“That was…” he started to say.

“Yeah, it was,” she agreed, interrupting, and not wanting to talk about it. Her body could still feel him, his touch, inside and out. The heat from release pulsed through her blood, like embers of a strong fire still simmering under the spent coals. She liked—too much—how his arms wrapped around her.

This was dangerous. Her impulsive heart wasn’t listening to her newly logical brain, and she didn’t need to be a detective to figure out that she could fall hard for Garrett, given the chance. Her body had its own agenda altogether.

She discovered this as she started lazily sliding the arch of her foot up and down the hard column of his ankle and shin. They were both spent, but she felt his semi-erection twitch against her hip, as if wanting more.

Unbelievably, she wanted more.

She kissed him once and pulled gently away, sitting up, taking the sheet with her.

“Where are you going?” he asked, frowning.

“Shower and home. I guess. Wedding in the morning, remember?” she said with a smile, wanting nothing more than to go back to bed with him for the rest of the night.

But she was going to be smart—and strong—for once in her life.