How Sweet It Is

by Dylan Newton

  Drake kept tight hold of her hand until they meandered through the tables, nodding at various people here and there, but not stopping for handshakes or conversations until he’d finally cleared the gauntlet of well-wishers and pushed open the doors to the hallway outside the ballroom area of the Niagara hotel.

  “Well, that went well, I think,” Kate said, and was relieved when Drake laughed, pulling her into a one-armed embrace as they strolled away.

  “I’m sorry to tell you this, but you can likely kiss that EVPLEX goodbye this year,” he said, genuine regret in his face. “And I’d planned to give you the whole VIP experience tonight and make sure you got an outstanding dinner. Maybe even…a dance. The band, I’ve been told, is pretty good.”

  Kate’s eyebrows rose. A dance? She glanced at her phone, noting the time. Eight o’clock. She was going to recommend they take a cab to a nearby restaurant when suddenly Drake began to chuckle.

  “Hold up. Do you hear that?”

  Kate put her phone back in her purse, pausing to listen. “What? The music?”

  “That’s the sound of me keeping my plan intact,” he said, reversing course toward the other set of ballroom doors. “Now you get to say that Rachel and Evan didn’t ruin our evening. It’s time to meet…Mr. and Mrs. Paul Jonas. The newlyweds.”

  “Wait. We’re…going to crash a wedding party?”

  Drake clutched his chest with mock outrage.

  “Absolutely not! We’re going to crash a wedding event.”

  He pushed open the doors before she could object, and Kate saw the dinner had just been cleared. The décor was subtle but effective, with scatters of faux fall leaves and tea lights in cute homemade votive holders flickering at every table. Lovely, hand-drawn chalk signs indicated table numbers and various activities around the room, like the signature album and photo booth.

  Couples were already on the dance floor. The DJ was doing an outstanding job getting the crowd into the event, playing Lizzo’s “Good as Hell.” Kate was delighted to see that in addition to the twenty-somethings joining the bride on the dance floor, a handful of gray-haired women left their tables to join them, belting out the lyrics, tossing their hair and checking their nails with the rest.

  Drake was tugging her in toward what appeared to be a cash bar, but Kate stopped him.

  “Wait. Before we go in, we need to do one more thing,” she said, going up on tiptoe.

  She leaned against him to slip off his glasses, folding them and putting them in her clutch. Her hands trembled slightly as she reached up to adjust his hair where she’d accidentally mussed it, spending more time than was necessary in getting it perfect, enjoying that look of intense languor on his face. She was reminded again of that tiger at the Bronx Zoo, looking innocent and relaxed as he waited for his prey to come closer…and her voice sounded a little breathless to her own ears when she finished.

  “There. Now, maybe nobody will recognize you. For a little while, you’re just a regular guy about to dance with a regular girl.”

  Drake wrapped his arms around Kate’s middle, preventing her from going down from her tiptoes. He touched his forehead to hers.

  “There’s just one problem,” he said, and Kate could feel the rumble of his voice in her own chest. “You’ve never been a regular girl to me, Kate.”

  Just then, the DJ announced he was going to “slow things down a little,” and Kate’s heart cartwheeled in her chest as Drake released her. The ladies left the dance floor, scattering to snag their guys from their table or the bar, everyone coupling off for the slow song.

  She walked with him to the tiny, parquet-floored area next to the bank of windows overlooking the falls. The natural wonder was lit up, filling the sky with changing colors of water spray, taking her breath away almost as much as her dance partner. Drake enfolded her in his arms, his hand cupping the small of her back as he led to an old song Kate recognized, “Unforgettable.”

  Drake spun her far from the listening ears of the other dancing couples and right next to the speakers so they had to lean in close—really close—to talk. Which was exactly what Kate did, pressing against him a little more than was necessary…and miles more than what was appropriate for a client.

  “I heard what you said to Rachel,” he said in her ear, his voice low and giving nothing away. “Her look of shock as you walked away was worth everything.”

  “Well, if you ask me, Rachel had it coming to her. I know it’s catty, but, God, did that feel good! I hope I didn’t embarrass you. I got a little…carried away.”

  When he moved his mouth up to her ear to respond, she stumbled. He caught her, steadying and righting her without missing a beat. Then, as if he knew the torture his breath and the maddening touch of his whiskers were to her neck, he bent his head again, bringing her a little closer until her breasts were only a bare millimeter from his chest before he spoke.

  He gave that dark laugh again—the one that made her knees weak.

  “Never, Ms. Sweet. It’s never too much with you.”

  Drake’s head was bent, allowing Kate to speak into his ear, and his breath fanned her bare shoulder, making her shiver as her nerve endings came alive. Her whole body seemed to strain to be nearer to him.

  “Well, now that we’ve both kicked karma’s ass into gear tonight,” she said, breathing in the warm, woodsy tones of his cologne and feeling the heat of his skin through the thin fabric of his dress shirt, “I’m pretty sure this will be an impossible VIP experience to top.”

  Kate knew she should be backing away from his hard body. She should be telling him that it had been a great day, that she appreciated the helicopter ride over the falls and the star treatment, and with the launch only four days away, she should be reminding him—and herself—that she needed to get back to her room. Just as she’d done before, she needed to stop things before they eclipsed the boundaries of a “working relationship.”

  The entire speech was on the tip of her tongue. But then, Drake leaned in, the day-old whiskers on his face tickling her cheek as he bent to speak in her ear.

  “Do you want to get out of here? Maybe go back to my room and order room service…or something?”

  “Yes,” she breathed, nodding her head, her body responding before her mind vetoed things. “I approve of that plan. All of it.”

  Drake’s golden eyes darkened at her words, and his hand dipped slightly on her back, slightly south of the “just friends” area, but well north of creating a spectacle on the dance floor. He lowered his face until it was barely an inch above hers, his gaze glued to her lips. He seemed to be waiting for…what? Her permission?

  Kate tipped her weight onto her toes, her hand curling behind Drake’s head. Unlike the time at the Harvest Festival, and then again in the hotel when the kiss had been more of an impulse, this time, Kate was determined to put her all in it. Her fingers threaded themselves into his hair as she tugged him to her lips. Forgetting all about Rachel and Everstone, and the EVPLEX and her reputation, Kate kissed him, putting every bit of her pent-up emotions into the kiss, wanting to show him he was worth more than what a couple of losers thought of him. That he was kind, and good, and damned hot.

  Drake had stopped dancing as soon as she’d kissed him. His hands lifted to cradle her face, and when she finally lowered herself down from her toes, breaking off the kiss, he stood there, cupping her face, his eyes closed, and a small smile on his lips. He looked as if he was…savoring her.

  Then Drake Matthews opened his eyes, his gaze dark and hungry.

  “Tell me there’s an encore, Kate.”

  At his words, the last shred of Kate’s self-control vanished just like the final notes of the slow song playing behind them.

  “Take me to your room, and let’s find out.”

  Chapter 18

  It took every ounce of Drake’s willpower not to tug Kate off the dance floor immediately after she’d kissed him.

  All he could think of, all that he wanted to think of, was taking that
dress off Kate, kissing every inch, every sweet curve revealed as he peeled the fabric from her body. If science fiction were reality, he’d have transported them immediately into his hotel room—no, immediately into his bed, naked and with every light blazing so he could watch her beautiful green eyes when he entered her.

  But this wasn’t science fiction. And it took a hell of a lot longer to get to his room, what with having to put his damn glasses on so he could find the wishing well to toss some money in for the newlyweds—crashers or not, Kate insisted not to gift them would bring bad wedding juju for her business. Once they’d done all that, the people in the reception began to recognize the Knight of Nightmares dancing among them.

  Kate snorted. “So much for being with the regular guy.”

  Yet he was gracious as they made their way to the ballroom doors, taking selfies with guests, signing a couple of napkins, until finally they spilled out into the hallway, making a beeline to the elevators. But they weren’t even alone in the elevator, and he felt his jaw clenching as Kate smiled and chatted with everyone and anyone, as if she weren’t just as distracted.

  The thought chilled his frontal lobe, and Drake gave a start. Maybe she wasn’t as distracted? She’d told him this wasn’t a good time for either of them to complicate things. It wasn’t likely the past three days had changed her mind. Had they?

  A niggle of doubt tamped some of his desire, until Kate caught his hand and tugged it around her waist, snuggling closer to him in the crowded elevator as it practically crawled up the forty floors to the penthouse suite.

  He was busy watching the numbers go by with infuriating slowness, when a young blonde entered the elevator dressed in a short leather skirt and a shorter matching top that ended in a place that seemed to indicate she wasn’t wearing a bra. When she turned around and saw him, she immediately shrieked, the sound reverberating in the small space, causing an older couple to duck, putting their hands up as if warding off an active shooter.

  “Holy shit! You’re Drake Matthews—the Knight of Nightmares, himssself!” the blonde said, her words slightly slurred. “I’ve read Creature Crypt fifteen times, I sssswear! Can I get an autograph? I’m your number one fan!”

  Kate mumbled something beside him that sounded an awful lot like, “Your timing sucks,” but he wasn’t sure. The drunk blonde was shrieking to the other five people on the elevator, telling them who he was and badgering them for a pen. Some Samaritan produced a Sharpie, but nobody had any paper to sign.

  Undeterred, the blonde handed him the marker. Then she whipped up her minuscule shirt, showing him that, indeed, she hadn’t been able to fit a bra underneath the skimpy leather top.

  “Sign my boobs!” the woman shrieked, and then nudged the old lady next to her, handing over her cell phone. “Take a picture of him signing my boobs!”

  Drake’s mouth hung open, and his ears felt like they were going to combust. He’d never wished for an elevator catastrophe so hard in his whole life. He had averted his gaze when she’d flashed him, and stood with a Sharpie in his hands, staring at Kate in astonishment, wondering what the hell he was supposed to do next.

  Lucky for him, Kate knew exactly what to do. She hit the button for the next floor, although it wasn’t the penthouse suite. Just as the elevator dinged and slowed for the twenty-first level, she snatched the Sharpie from Drake’s hand and used it like a dagger, poking the blonde in the chest with it.

  “Put your shirt down. Mr. Matthews will not sign your boobs. He and I are getting off on this floor, and if you exit with us, I will assume you pose a threat to his well-being, and as his bodyguard, I will use whatever force is necessary to knock your ass out. Do you understand me?” Kate glared at the blonde, who tugged her shirt down, hastily backing away.

  The doors opened, revealing the twenty-first floor, and Kate glowered at the group on the elevator.

  “And the same goes for the rest of you.”

  She glared down the length of the Sharpie as if it were a sniper’s rifle, meeting the gaze of every stranger, including the older couple, all of whom looked as stunned as Drake had been a few moments earlier.

  Drake followed Kate’s lead out of the elevator, moving a respectful distance from her as she stood, stance as wide as a gunslinger in her spaghetti-strap dress, pointing the marker at the people in warning until the elevator doors finally closed.

  Then she turned to him, dipping the tip of the Sharpie until it focused on his crotch, her beautiful lips crooked in a mischievous grin.

  “Tell you what, Mr. Matthews. You’d better be worth all this trouble, that’s all I can—”

  Drake swooped in, kissing her mouth. She tasted like wine and sweetness, and her tongue when it met his was hungry and urgent. The marker dropped from her hands and bounced off his shoe as Kate wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing her breasts into him in a way that made him groan with need.

  “I promise you, Ms. Sweet. I’ll make it worth all your trouble tonight. For a really, really long time.”

  He backed her against the marble wall of the bank of elevators, blindly pushing the Up arrow, and when the doors to their right opened, revealing an empty interior, he almost shouted with joy. Instead, he guided them both inside, returning Kate’s fierce kisses with his own, and fumbled with the numbers until he’d finally hit the button for the penthouse floor.

  He dipped his head down, kissing her neck, breathing in the perfume of her skin and nibbling his way from her ear to her collarbone. When she moaned and clutched his back as he got to the hollow of her neck, he paused, focusing on the spot until her breath came fast and hot in his ear.

  “Drake,” she panted, pulling slightly away to look at him. “Your hand is in my bra.”

  Glancing down, he nodded slowly. “It’s nice in there.”

  Kate gave a short laugh, yet when his thumb brushed over her nipple, she gasped, her face transforming into an expression of need. She pressed herself into his hand, filling his palm with her soft flesh, and then she groaned, her leg rising up his hip as she ground against him.

  “Your hand feels…so good. But…” She opened her green eyes a fraction, spearing him with a sultry gaze. “It would be amazing if it were to go…lower.”

  Drake’s erection jumped, and he was so hard he had to take a minute to think of baseball and Christmas trees and how to conjugate Latin verbs. Anything except his hand sliding down her side, and then under the dress to her silky thighs and between them where she was wet and hot and eager. And in a thong.

  Drake groaned. He said a quick prayer of thanks that he hadn’t known that the beautiful woman handling his ex like a boss at the table downstairs had been in this lacy thing all along. No way would he have been able to dance upright with her, had he known all there was between his hand and her was a wispy piece of fabric. But now that they were here, all alone in this elevator, he could—

  Suddenly, a thought slammed into his libido like a battalion of tanks.

  What if the elevator had a camera?

  The last thing he wanted was for Kate to be embroiled in some leaked video where she was caught in a compromising position with the Knight of Nightmares.

  What he wanted to do was back her against the wall and use his mouth and hands to worship her. He wanted to slide a finger into her, palming her mound, drinking in her gasp or groan, then finding her sweet spot, caressing the deliciously wet inside of her, learning her body, learning her rhythm. He didn’t want to stop until he felt her shudder against him, the little muscles inside of her pulsing around his finger as she climaxed in his hands.

  Instead, drawing on resources of endurance and willpower he hadn’t tapped since Marine boot camp, he managed to slip his hand out of her thong. Gritting his teeth against Kate’s moan of disappointment, he used his body to block the view of any hidden cameras as he adjusted her dress. Tipping her chin, he captured her gaze and he kissed her once, then again, barely brushing her soft lips.

  “You are so beautiful,” he said, drin
king in the rising flush on her cheeks and chest, confusion mashing with need on her face. “But with your track record with chaos, and my crazy fans…I don’t want this to be anything other than perfect for you. We’ve got four floors to go, and then I’d like to invite you to my suite. I want to lay you on my bed where we can slow down. Enjoy each other.”

  “Drake,” she gasped, her green eyes squeezing shut. Her hands fisted in the fabric of his jacket, whether to hold him to her or hold herself up, he wasn’t sure. “I’d like that. Very much. Tell me, did you bring…any protection?”

  The elevator dinged for the fortieth floor, and he cursed.

  Kate’s words were like ice chips down the front of his jockey shorts.

  At home, he’d bought some condoms recently…just in case. But he hadn’t thought to pack any, his mind having basically dismissed anything physical until the launch was over, just as Kate had requested. Now, here he was, up against a rock and a very, very, very hard place.

  The doors opened, revealing the short hallway to the penthouse suite, and he turned, shamefaced, to her.

  “Uh, I,” Drake began, his ears piping hot with embarrassment, “I didn’t. I didn’t want to be…presumptuous.”

  “Then I’m going to have to decline that invite to your suite.”

  Drake started to talk until Kate put her index finger on his mouth, pressing softly. He wasn’t sure what he’d been about to say, but the words died in his throat as he saw Kate’s sexy mouth cant up on one side in a half smile his writer’s mind immediately categorized as: wicked.

  “And,” she continued, tugging him out of the elevator by a hand, leading him down the hallway to the suite doors on each side of the hall, “I’m going to have to ask you to come to my suite instead. You see, I presumed. A lot.”

  Drake stumbled in the hallway. “Wait. You brought a condom?”