by J. Lynn
Chandler’s brows lowered. “No. What message?”
Popping the lid off the bottle, he took a quick swig before he answered. “In her home office, the words ‘You lying whore’ were carved into the wall.”
Chandler’s hand tightened around the glass. “No. She did not mention that.”
“Maybe she didn’t see it.”
Anger whipped through his insides with acid-tipped barbs. “Seems like a hard thing to overlook.”
Murray eyed him closely. “All depends on if she went into her home office and how shocked she was by seeing her apartment. I’m telling you, man. That placed was fucked up. She might not have noticed it.” He took another gulp of beer and then tossed the bottle into the garbage. “Are you sure she’s being honest with you?”
“About what exactly?” He finished off his glass of whiskey, reached for the bottle, and then thought better. Getting drunk off his ass wasn’t the brightest idea.
“Are you sure there isn’t an ex involved in this? I know she told you there isn’t, but the amount of damage was substantial. And calling her a lying whore? It all seems very personal.”
He wished Murray would stop saying “lying whore,” because it made him want to punch someone in the throat. And since Murray was the only person in front of him, he was the only target, and that sucked. He liked the guy.
“I know she apparently pisses people off on a daily basis, but this is personal,” Murray added.
“She doesn’t piss people off daily.” The back of his neck burned. “She helps people.”
Murray opened his mouth and then his eyes narrowed. Several seconds passed. “Where’s she staying?”
“Here.”
Silence. It stretched so long Chandler wondered if the man had lost the ability to speak, but finally Murray spoke. “Are you fucking serious?”
The burn on the back of his neck increased. “Are you?”
“She’s staying here?” Murray’s voice dropped low. “In your home?”
“Unless there’s a different meaning for ‘here’ that I’m unaware of, then yes.”
Murray stared at him like he’d whipped out his cock and started swinging it around. “Why not a hotel or somewhere less personal? Like we’d normally do in this situation? Or, I don’t know, have her go to family and we run detail outside?”
“She doesn’t have anyone else,” he said, acting on the urge to defend what he was doing and her. But the moment those words left his mouth, he regretted them.
“Does she have you?” Murray shot back.
Chandler’s eyes narrowed dangerously, but his voice remained level. “That’s really none of your business.”
Murray opened his mouth.
“I mean it, bud. Don’t fucking push me on this. She’s staying here with me and that’s as far as I’m discussing it.”
Holding up his hands, Murray shook his head. “Whatever. If you think this is a bright idea, then go with it. Not going to judge.”
Chandler didn’t respond and he didn’t relax at those words.
“Where is she anyway? Hiding from you?”
His lips twitched at that. “Maybe.”
“Wouldn’t blame her for that.” Murray headed for the door. “I’ll let you know if I find out anything else on the celeb and friends.”
“Okay.” He started to close the door but stopped. “Oh, and can you—”
“Call and get someone out there to clean up her place?” Murray smiled broadly, and for some reason, it made the guy look scarier. “Already did it. Also got a security system ordered for her.”
Muscles in his back eased a little. “You’re awesome.”
“I know.”
After Murray left, Chandler made sure his place was locked down, alarm set, and then grabbed the totes before heading upstairs. What Murray had said about an ex nagged at him. Had he been incorrect and Alana had held back important information?
Whatever it might be, he was about to find out.
He started to knock on her bedroom door but found it slightly cracked. Easing it open, he slipped into her room. Maybe he should’ve knocked, but what the hell? It was his house.
His gaze fell to the bed first, and it was empty. Shopping bags were stacked on the floor against the dresser. The room smelled of her—lilac and vanilla. His eyes moved to the door to the bathroom. It was also ajar and soft light edged around the bottom. Sitting the totes on the dresser, he was about to force himself out of the bedroom when a startled cry edged with terror erupted from the bathroom.
What the hell? What kind of trouble could she get herself into alone in a bathroom?
More than a little concerned, he moved toward the bathroom door. In the back of his head, he knew he should announce himself, but he pushed open the door.
And came to a complete stop, something tugging at his chest and causing the muscles to tighten in his stomach. Pulsing adrenaline coursed through him, and he couldn’t remember why he even came up the stairs to find her before he’d heard her cry out.
Never in his life had he met a more contrary woman, but right then, she was the embodiment of wet dreams. Go figure it was when she might be asleep.
She must’ve had a nightmare that had passed over her. Now she rested peacefully, but a storm was raging inside his body.
Alana was in the tub, her head resting on a rolled-up towel, facing the door. A practically serene look marked her expression. He’d never really seen her as such. The tug in his chest was stronger this time, drawing him closer.
Her hair was piled up around her head, but without anything to hold it there, several tendrils hung down, drifting over her shoulders and into the water. The scent of shower gel filled the bathroom, which explained the frothy white bubbles that obscured her body except for the sweet swell of her chest and a gracefully bent knee.
Seeing her like this was a punch to the gut and caused his already hard cock to pulse against the zipper of his jeans.
Goddamn, it was the sexiest thing he’d ever seen. And he’d seen a lot of sexy in his life, but this—fuck yeah—this was stunning. Maybe it was the white-capped bubbles drifting over her skin or the way her plump lips were slightly parted. It could be the innocence of it all. How she slumbered without knowing he was there, watching her.
Or maybe it was just because it was her.
Alana shifted slightly. She let out a soft, contented sigh that boiled his blood. Her knee slipped under the water, stirring the bubbles. The peaks of her breasts broke the surface. Nipples dusty pink and tightened into little nubs, they were absolutely perfect.
Holy hell, he was…he was absolutely undone by the mere sight of them.
He must’ve made a sound or she finally sensed his presence, because her eyes suddenly flew open. She sucked in a startled breath.
Their eyes locked.
Alana jerked up, tucking her legs under her. Bubbles sloshed over the sides of the tub as she rose. Water sluiced down her body in thick rivulets, drawing his heated gaze.
For the best seconds of his life, she froze before him, completely and splendidly naked. Her arms to her sides, tiny bubbles gliding down her skin, and all that beautiful flesh on display for him to devour. And boy, did he ever eat her up with his stare.
My God.
His mouth went dry as his balls tightened. As he suspected, she had been hiding a lush body under the shapeless suits. True, her breasts were small, but they were perfect for her narrow waist. Her hips flared out, sweetly rounded, and her thighs were shapely. In a second, he could picture them wrapping around his hips. She was bare between the thighs, with the exception of a neatly trim thatch of dark curls.
His once dry mouth watered. He wanted—no, needed—to touch her, to taste her. Every glorious inch of her. He needed to be on her, inside her. Especially between her thighs. He wanted to dive in with his tongue and then his cock.
Surprisingly, there was a small tattoo beside her hip to the right of her navel. It was a red rose, slight bent at the top.
Three petals lay at the base of the green stem. Something about the design was familiar to him.
He dragged his eyes up, and there was no mistaking the lust in her gaze. The flush racing across her cheeks and down her throat told him that she saw his hunger. Her nipples tightened even more, and he groaned.
“You’re the most fucking magnificent thing I’ve ever seen,” he ground out.
Then those wonderful seconds came to an end. She reached over, snatched up a towel, and hastily wrapped it around her body. Her mouth opened and he knew she was about to give him an ass-chewing for the ages, but he wasn’t going to let that happen. Not yet.
Chandler was on her before she took her next breath.
Chapter Nine
Holy fuck a duck…
Anger and embarrassment had flooded Alana’s system, but so had something a hell of a lot more intense. Rife, intoxicating lust seized her—the same wild, out-of-control feelings that had taken her over the night before, when he’d kissed her. Knowing how quickly she’d lost herself in a simple kiss had dumped her in a bad mood all day. There was no reason for her to have such a strong reaction to a damn kiss and she shouldn’t be that attracted to him.
But she was.
Now those feelings were back, stronger than before. Her breasts ached, her legs felt like jelly, and she was incredibly damp between her legs.
Alana knew she should have been pissed at Chandler and she was, but the hunger she felt inside her had been reflected in his brilliant blue gaze. And that yearning was more powerful than anything else she was experiencing.
Her fingers had tightened around the hasty knot she’d made in the towel above her breasts. She couldn’t breathe. He’d been staring at her like she was the only woman in the world and he’d shuddered.
When he’d moved toward her, fast and graceful as any predator stalking its prey, there was no place for her to go. She wasn’t even sure she wanted to run. No man had ever looked at her like he had.
It made her feel brazen and wanton and she liked it.
There was a brief moment when she’d wondered if this was how her mom had felt, if this was the first symptom to the slippery slope that was obsession. Then Chandler’s large hands landed on her bare, damp shoulders at the same moment his lips met hers.
The kiss wasn’t about a slow seduction or exploration. His mouth fused to hers and when she drew in a breath, he delved in. She felt his body tremble against her and she was amazed that he was the one who was shaking with need—need for her. That awed her, and as a hand swept to the back of her neck, she was carried away in the exquisite sensations he was opening in her.
Alana needed to tell him to stop. This wasn’t appropriate. A relationship of any sort between them would never work. She placed her hands on his chest, but instead of pushing him away, she gripped the soft material, holding him to her.
She kissed him back, just as fiercely and with the same need that he claimed her mouth with. Her breasts tightened and swelled, aching with the want of his touch.
He groaned against her lips, causing a chill to skate over her flushed skin. “You have no idea what you do to me.”
She had a feeling she could say the same about him, but then he kissed her again, and she wasn’t thinking anymore. All she was focused on were the sensations he was dragging out in her, and there was something beautifully freeing in that. She fell headfirst into it, praying that when he was done with her, she would be able to resurface.
His hand slid down her bare arm and then dropped to her cloth-covered hip. He guided her head back and his lips left hers. A disappointed whimper escaped her lips, and Chandler chuckled deeply.
“I’m not done with you. Nowhere near it,” he said, nipping at her chin. “I’ve only just gotten started.”
Her stomach fluttered like a thousand butterflies had taken flight. “Really?”
“Oh yeah.” He grinned and tilted her head to the side. He nibbled a path along her jaw to her ear, catching the lobe between his teeth. She gasped. “You like that, don’t you?”
She couldn’t answer. Her senses were spinning.
Chandler chuckled again as he dipped his head lower, blazing a line of hot, wet kisses down her neck. When he reached her pulse, his tongue flicked over her skin. She shifted restlessly, wanting more, knowing there was more.
His lips moved along the edge of the towel as his one hand moved up, resting at her rib cage, so close to her breasts. He didn’t touch her there. No, he teased her with the lines of kisses, with the way his thumb moved in a circle over the towel, coming close to the swell but never quite touching her.
“Tell me you want this,” he all but growled. Lifting her head, he kissed the corner of her parted lips. “Tell me you need this as badly as I do and you will not regret a second of this.”
But wouldn’t she? When it was all over and the heat of lust faded, how would she feel? There was already a part of her that was drawn to him, beyond the physical attraction. Would things be like they were before? Could she separate an act of lust from meaning anything else? Her mother had never been able to do that, so how could she be any different?
Chandler kissed her again, and panic clawed at her chest. From everything she knew about him, he wasn’t the type of man to settle down, and from what she knew about his needs, she wasn’t sure she could ever fulfill them. And she was also sure that every moment she allowed this to continue, the further she slipped under Chandler’s sensual control. But she wasn’t the type to settle down, either. And she was no coward.
She wanted to feel this—whatever this was. As long as she kept her head on straight and above water, she could handle him and her own conflicting feelings. Couldn’t she? The flutter moved from her stomach to her chest. Maybe she wasn’t even thinking straight, but who could blame her? This man was walking, breathing sin.
“Alana,” he murmured, brushing his lips over hers. His breath was enticingly hot. “Tell me.”
Blinking her eyes open, she barely contained a sigh when her eyes met his. “You are really impatient.”
He grinned, and her chest spasmed at the almost boyish quality to it. “You have no idea.”
Her hands smoothed out against his chest and trembled. He didn’t look away, holding her stare with a level of passion that stirred tendrils of yearning deep inside her. “Should we be doing this?” she whispered.
“This is the only thing we should ever be doing.” He pressed his forehead against hers and slid his hand through her damp hair, twisting his fingers into the mass. He captured her in his hold. “I can promise you that there won’t be a second of this you won’t enjoy.”
She wet her lips nervously and his gaze heated. “What about afterward?”
“What about it?”
Good question, but a dull ache pierced her chest. She pushed it away. “I don’t just sleep around.”
“I wasn’t planning on doing any sleeping.”
Her fingers curled as his words sent a spasm through her. “I don’t have sex with just anyone.”
Chandler made a deep sound in his chest. “I’m happy to hear that.” He shifted slightly, drawing her closer to the edge of the tub. “You want this just as badly as I do.”
God’s honest truth, she did. Her body trembled with the thought of it, but it had been so long since she’d been with anyone that she doubted her vagina would even know what to do. “I do, but…”
His tongue flicked over her lips with a dark promise as the hand under her breasts slid around the small of her back. “How about this. No sex.”
“No sex?”
He laughed. “Let me clarify. No penetration. We’ll take this slow.”
Alana understood what he was saying, but her brain was slow to process it. He didn’t want to have sex with her? At least not full-out sex? There was a tiny part of her that was stupidly disappointed, but she refused to give much thought to that.
The hand on her back slipped lower, and she bit down on her lip to stop the moan building in
her throat from escaping. What did she have to lose by taking what he was offering? They weren’t going to actually have sex and she was a grown adult, more than capable of having a little fun.
As their eyes met, Alana was struck again by the hunger in his gaze. He wanted this—wanted her—and there was something unequivocally powerful in that. Before she could change her mind or let common sense intrude and leave her aching all night without fulfillment and in an even worse mood tomorrow, she nodded.
Chandler froze, his mouth inches from hers. “Is that a yes?”
She nodded again.
“Say it,” he said in a low, almost dangerous voice. “Say you want me to please you.”
“Yes.” Her voice was barely above a whisper and she was unable to look away from those dark-lashed eyes of his. “I want you to please me.”
Chandler didn’t hesitate.
Those words seemed to unlock something primal in him. He snaked an arm around her waist and lifted her from the tub. His strength shocked her, though she shouldn’t have been surprised. While she’d hid—i.e. sulked—upstairs after returning from their shopping trip, she’d seen him disappear into a room downstairs full of weights and exercise equipment. The man was all muscle.
Her feet didn’t touch the floor until they were beside the bed. With a barely contained urgency, he stripped away the towel, and cool air rushed over her flushed skin. She moved to cover herself, but he caught her arms.
“Don’t hide from me.” His gaze traveled over the length of her body, lingering in some areas longer than other. “You’re beautiful.”
She let out a nervous laugh. “I’m already naked. You don’t have to ply me with compliments.”
“I mean it.” He took her hand as he sat on the bed. Lifting his head, he stared up at her. Staying before him completely naked while he was clothed had her at a disadvantage. He tugged her between his thighs and then settled his hands on her hips. “I want to look my fill, so when it’s later and I’m alone, all I have to do is close my eyes to see your body while I make myself come.”
Holy God, her ears were scorched.
“Do you do that a lot?” she asked, breathless.
