by Julia Harlow
Cody nestled his nose in her soft hair and breathed in deeply while his hand crept lower on her back and cemented her body to his. “Why don’t you come back to my ranch with me, sweetheart? I’ll show you around and you can learn a lot more facts about me there.”
Dorrie rolled her eyes up to the cobweb-strewn ceiling. “I don’t need to see you naked to write your biography, Cody.”
He threw his head back and laughed. “C’mon. We’ll talk about football and stuff, I promise. You can learn firsthand all about tight ends, deep drives, and penetrations.”
Just as she was about to shut him down, a big hand roughly yanked her away from Cody, and a deep, British accent penetrated her sensual stupor. “What the bloody hell do you think you’re doing?”
Chapter 20
Fists clenched and fury distorting his gorgeous face, Grant Maxwell looked like a volcano about to erupt. His bulging muscles strained beneath the fabric of his white dress shirt.
“What the fuck do you want, old man? You Dorrie’s dad or somethin’?” Cody’s voice had taken on a hard edge Dorrie hadn’t heard before, and he leaned menacingly toward Grant. They resembled two alpha rams rearing back to butt heads. Cody was taller by two inches, but Grant had him on weight; he was thicker and more muscular.
“Take your filthy hands off her, you bloody wanker.” Grant’s voice was loud enough to be heard over the country music, and heads jerked around to watch. Out of nowhere the five behemoths appeared behind Cody: his Praetorian guard off the field as well as on. Dorrie knew she had to act quickly before things got completely out of hand.
She stretched out her arms between them like a crossing guard in the intersection, separating them with a palm on each rock-hard chest, and tried to project her most commanding voice. “Everybody calm down. Nothing’s going on here. Show’s over.”
She grabbed Grant’s arm and dragged him outside, not an easy task in her heels with him holding back. Once outside, she turned on him. “What the hell do you think you’re doing coming here? How did you even find me?”
Grant took a stance in front of her, arms crossed on his chest and glaring down into her eyes. “I’ve been to Dallas before, Dorrie, and have heard about all the sleazy athletes’ hangouts. I checked out a few and here I am. The real question is what the hell do you think you’re doing?” His face was slightly red with perspiration on his forehead, and he was breathing hard.
“Working on my new biography. What business is it of yours?”
“You were draped all over him. And his slimy hands were all over you!”
“We were just dancing. And he’s not slimy.”
“I knew it! I fucking knew you’d fall for his act.”
“What are you talking about? I haven’t fallen for anything! And why is this your business, anyway?”
“Because I don’t want you to get hurt.”
“Oh, that’s rich. No one could ever hurt me as much as you did.” She couldn’t help her voice from breaking.
Grant winced as if she’d slapped him. His voice was softer when he asked, “What do you mean? You know I would never hurt you, Dorrie.” He reached for her, but she pulled back, holding up her hands.
“Never mind. We’re just friends, remember? You’re with Carly Ann now.”
“Doesn’t mean I can’t worry about you.”
“Grant, did you really just get on a plane and fly to Dallas because I took on Cody Carlton as a subject?”
He dropped his gaze, poking a shiny-toed boot at the crumbling asphalt and not meeting her eyes. “Maybe.”
“Well, did you?”
“Let me take you to your hotel. Where are you staying?” He fidgeted with the keys in his pocket.
“Answer the question, Grant.” Twangy music from the Country Corral filtered into the parking lot. The May evening had cooled off and Dorrie shivered.
Grant draped his heavy arm over her shoulders, and she caught his delicious scent. “You cold?”
Dorrie sighed. She knew he’d closed down and she wasn’t going to get an answer from him. “A little.” It took an effort not to curl into his chest as he led her to his rented anthracite gray BMW.
When they pulled in front of the Stafford Inn, Grant remarked, “This doesn’t look like a hotel Omni would book for you.”
“They didn’t. I wanted something less commercial, so I booked it myself. It’s homey and comfortable.” And doesn’t remind me of the places we stayed together: the places where we made love all night long.
“Let’s have a nightcap.” He held his hand out to help her from the car and then placed his hand at her waist as they headed to the entrance of the Stafford Inn. The small cocktail bar off the entry was buzzing, and they squeezed into the last available spot, a banquet seat with a small table in front. Unfortunately, it meant their bodies were pressed against each other, and Dorrie could feel the heat radiating off of him. The man was a furnace. Her heart was already thudding in her chest at the proximity to this man who held that very heart in his grasp and didn’t even know it.
~*~
Carly was beside herself. The cryptic call she’d gotten from Grant hours earlier had her twisting the strands of her silky strawberry hair. That morning she’d almost finished packing for their trip to London to decorate Grant’s renovated house, and her flight to New York left in three hours. She was sure this trip would seal the deal and finally end in a marriage proposal. The office was quiet except for the tapping on the keyboard as Tanya’s fingers flew over the keys in the office adjoining hers. Carly never ceased to marvel at how fast that girl could type.
But now the trip was apparently postponed due to some last minute trip Grant had to make to Dallas. What was in Dallas that could sideline a trip they’d planned weeks ago? He hadn’t said it was work-related. She stood up from her desk chair, smoothing down the silk fabric of her aquamarine dress, one of her favorites. It set off the color of her hair and complexion perfectly.
Staring out the window at the gurgling fountain in the courtyard outside her office, Carly remember how odd Grant had sounded, not at all like himself. He’d seemed out of breath, as though he’d been running, and was curt with her. He was never that way, always polite and gracious. Whatever was going on, she didn’t like it one bit and keyed in his number on the new phone he’d bought her with her perfectly French-manicured nails, determined to find out. When the call went to voicemail, she had to bite her tongue to keep from shrieking in frustration.
The last few weeks with Grant had been idyllic. He’d been more patient and gentle with her than ever, and she’d relished the attention, and for the first time felt completely certain of her conquest. Then this. Imagining all sorts of things she couldn’t control, she began to feel lightheaded; when he wasn’t with her, it could all escape her grasp just like sand sifting through her fingers.
The intercom buzzed. “Yes, Tanya?”
“Miss Thomas, there’s a call for you from Sheik Al Salahari. He wants to confirm the interior details of his yacht. Should I put him through to you?”
Turning toward her desk, Carly sighed. “Yes. Put him through.”
~*~
Grant glanced down at his phone display before silencing it and stowing it back in his pocket. Carly. Again. Even if he’d wanted to think about her, he couldn’t. With Dorrie’s luscious body pressed against his in the crowded cocktail bar, all his brain could focus on was sinking into her sweet tightness, dragging his tongue along her belly and up to those plump breasts. He’d been able to concentrate on little else since seeing her again, except for the incomprehensible fury that had coursed through him the moment he’d seen Cody Carlton’s fucking hands all over her. That bloody wanker better keep his distance.
Just then Dorrie leaned down to collect something from her bag, and her breast brushed against his thigh, causing him to harden even more. He winced, the throbbing in his cock becoming unbearable. He never felt aroused to this extent with Carly. Ever. Something about Dorrie made him pulse all o
ver with heat. Simply being near her undid all his signature British composure.
He held his hand up to the barman, indicating another round. He had to watch himself, but if Dorrie overdid it a little, it was fine with him. He was hoping to coax her upstairs. Hoping to spend the night with her. Inside her. All night. And tomorrow. They sipped their fresh drinks, and Grant let his hand fall, gently landing across Dorrie’s shoulders. When she didn’t flinch, he grinned to himself.
“What’re you doing, Grant?” The noise level in the lounge was so high she had to lean to his ear, her soft hair brushing his cheek and making him shiver.
Busted. Shit. “Just trying to give you more room. It’s so crowded in here.” Not sure how convincing that was, but she sat back and took a sip of her wine, so he might be okay. Watching her luscious lips on the rim of the wine glass made his cock twitch. He struggled to wait the ten minutes or so while Dorrie finished her drink before settling the bar bill.
“You ready?” he asked, trying to keep his voice casual. How was he ever going to stand up with his pants tented?
“Okay.” Dorrie reached for her bag and stood. He placed his hand around her waist and led her to the lobby.
“You know I’m not sure I should drive. I’m definitely over the limit.”
Dorrie narrowed her brown eyes at him. “Do you want to see if they have a room available here?”
“No, that’s not what I want. Where’s your room?” The middle-aged woman at the front desk was eyeing them. “C’mon. You don’t want to make a commotion in front of her, do you?”
She nodded to the staircase on the left. “You can sleep on the couch in the sitting room.”
Yeah. Like that was going to happen. “Thanks, Dorrie.” He leaned down to kiss the top of her head, and she jerked around to stare up at him.
“What?”
“Watch it, Maxwell. I’m on to you.”
As they made their way up the carpeted staircase, he eyed the opening of her blouse and caught a glimpse of a lacy pink bra and the creamy swell of her breasts. The groan that slipped out couldn’t be helped. It had been far too long since he’d been between her thighs.
She stopped outside room number four to riffle through her bag for the room card. He leaned his shoulder against the door frame and let his eyes meander all over her from her black spiked heels, up to her full thighs, and on to her breasts straining the fabric of her blouse with every breath.
“Here we go.” When she slid the card into the slot and even that aroused him, he knew for certain he was a lost cause where this woman was concerned. He grabbed the handle and pushed the door open with the flat of his hand, breathing her in as she passed inside.
The buzzing of her phone temporarily sidelined him.
“Hello. Cody? Is that you? What? I can’t hear you.”
Grant took the phone from her hand, turned it off, and slapped it none too gently on the chest by the door. “I’m here, not that jackoff Carlton. I flew all the way from New York just to make sure you were all right.”
“You’ve had too much to drink, haven’t you? Come on. I’ll get you a pillow and blanket.” Grant watched her enticing ass as she sashayed into the bedroom, stopping to flip on a light. He followed her into the bedroom, drinking in her clean scent. The big four-poster bed looked like something from an erotic dream.
“Here you go.” She turned to hand him a pillow and blanket. He took them and set them down on the upholstered bench at the foot of the bed. Moving toward her, he took her face in his hands.
“Not so fast, Dorrie.” He felt her breath pick up as he lowered his lips to hers. Almost there . . .”
Then her palm met his chest, and she pushed him away. His eyes met hers, and he was taken aback at the yearning in them. Instead of it making him feel triumphant, he felt a surge of warmth. Her eyes mirrored the same exact yearning he felt.
“Look me straight in the eye and tell me you don’t want me, and I’ll go in the other room.” He moved toward her until her back was against the bedpost.
Dorrie sucked in a deep breath and barely whispered, “How could I ever not want you, Grant.” Then she rose on her tiptoes and reached his mouth with hers in a light kiss. The instant her lips brushed his he crushed her to him and ravaged her mouth with all his pent-up arousal until neither of them could breathe. Her fingers gripped his hair and held his head to her, not that he was ever going to let her go.
When her soft fingers let go of his hair and settled on the back of his neck, he started unbuttoning her blouse all the while trailing kisses across her jaw and down her throat. Making quick work of her blouse, he slid it off her shoulders and started on the button of her slacks. At the same time, Dorrie unbuttoned his shirt and pulled up his T-shirt. He helped her lift it over his head. Panting, she leaned back just enough to stare at his body. Then her fingertips trailed over his shoulders and down his chest. Panting little puffs of air, she took her time, as if she were worshipping him. Her head bent, and he closed his eyes when her moist lips met his skin. It felt so fucking good. He palmed her lush ass and pulled her flush to him, his hard cock pressing against her, eliciting a gasp.
Dorrie lowered herself to her knees and slid down the zipper, kissing his rock hard cock through his briefs. He jerked at the contact. “No, Dorrie. There’s no time.” Lifting her up by her shoulders, he kissed her again. “I want you so bad I can taste it.” Then he pushed down her slacks and steadied her while she stepped out of them. In less than a second, her bra and panties were off. But instead of lifting her onto the big bed, he stood back and let his eyes take in her hourglass beauty, the supple curves and roundness of her. Her soft curls kissed her shoulders and fell like ribbons over her breasts, and her rosy skin glowed with desire. There was nothing fake or phony about Dorrie. She was the real deal, and she wanted him as much as he wanted her. That knowledge made him desire her more than he could ever have imagined.
Leaning down, he grasped her under her knees with one hand and gently lifted her onto the high bed. In a flash, his trousers and briefs went flying. Grant stretched his big body next to her, loving the warmth coming from her body and the feel of her velvety skin against his. As much as he wanted to plunge into her wet tightness, he also wanted to make this last more than five seconds. So he collected himself while he played with her breasts, squeezing her tight buds and watching her reaction. Her head went back into the pillow, and her hands reached for him. If she touched him, he’d lose it, so he whispered, “Just let me look at you, touch you. I’ve missed this, Dorrie, missed you more than you know.” He dipped his head and took a nipple in his mouth, gently sucking. Her soft moan was all it took to undo his hard fought control, and his knee separated her thighs. He trailed his big hand down her belly and in between her legs, sinking one finger into her and then another. When he realized she was soaked, he drew his fingers out and sucked them.
“Christ, Dorrie. You’re so wet for me.” He stopped to roll on a condom then hovered over her for only a second before taking his stiff cock in his hand and dragging it up and down her cleft, making sure contact with her slick clit. Her fingers grabbed his ass and yanked him to her.
“Now, Grant. Fuck me now.”
Her whispered demand was his undoing. The moment he slid into her, he stopped to gain some control, twitching and jerking inside her. But Dorrie wasn’t having it. She arched her pelvis up to him and clenched his thick cock, sucked him inside her, and completely took his breath away.
As he thrust in and out, he slid his body up further on hers so his cock was perfectly placed to drag across her clit with each stroke. He knew she loved that. Her breathing quickened as her body stiffened. She was close, he knew.
“Let go, baby. Just let go.” Those husky words were all it took. She fell apart, pulsing in ecstasy, reveling in the intense, exquisite release. One final balls-deep thrust and his body sagged on top of hers, their hearts thudding wildly as one.
~*~
Dorrie kissed his shoulder while run
ning her hands over the muscles in his back. After they’d recovered, she wiggled under him, his full weight making it hard for her to breathe, and he pulled out, settling beside her after pitching the condom in the wastebasket. She rose up on one elbow, surprised they’d been so enthralled they’d forgotten the lights were still on. One of Grant’s arms was tucked behind his head, the other relaxed at his side, and his eyes were closed.
“You really are perfect, aren’t you?” she whispered.
“Pardon?” One eye peeked open.
“Your body, that is. Did you ever play doctor when you were a kid?”
“Don’t think so.” He closed his eyes again.
“Well, it’s time for your doctor to give you a thorough check up.” Dorrie eased back so that she had an unobstructed view of the absolute perfection that was Grant Maxwell’s body. Not a single imperfection anywhere. Or an ounce of fat. Clear, lightly tanned skin. Her fingers glided over every inch of him. “Didn’t you have stitches as a kid, or any broken bones?”
He slowly lifted his hand. “I had stitches on my thumb, right here.” He nodded with his chin. Dorrie took his hand and peered closely but couldn’t see anything at all.
“Where?”
“Right there.” He held his thumb at an angle, sounding irked. “And there’s a scar in my left eyebrow where I had six stitches. See it?” He titled his chin down for her to examine his brow.
She still couldn’t see anything. Then she purred, “Okay, turn over.”
“I can’t move.”
Her lips lowered to kiss him. “Do as the doctor orders.”
