He didn’t bother asking Stonewall who her was. “Do I?”
“Yes. You don’t have it.”
Dalton wondered how Stonewall knew that. And he was right. He didn’t have Jules’s address, because he’d never been to her home before. Just her office. “You got her address?”
“No, but I can get it.”
“Then do it.”
Dalton didn’t care that he and Jules had agreed not to pursue anything further once they returned to Charlottesville. On their last night together, she’d made it pretty damned clear that there would not be a repeat of Miami. However, at the moment, he didn’t care that he was probably the last person she wanted to see, or that the courteous thing would be to call her first and not just drop by unexpectedly. But he was too horny to be courteous. Besides, he wanted the element of surprise on his side.
And he also wanted something else.
* * *
Jules rubbed her eyes, tired of reading yet another document. She had remained at her office well after Manning had left to take his dad to the doctor and decided sometime after seven to head home with the last of the files. Once there, she had showered, put on her pj’s and decided to sit on the sofa in front of her fireplace and do some more reading.
By now, she knew that Imerson had worked alone out of an office on North Sampson, which was a ritzy area in Charlottesville. That meant his clientele was high-end and could afford the exorbitant fees he probably charged. Clients like Richard Granger.
Imerson had a good track record of solving cases other PIs couldn’t, and since he worked alone, it took him a little longer. But he had a reputation for being thorough. Jules couldn’t help wondering what he’d uncovered about the Sylvia Granger murder that could have gotten him killed...if that was the case. Sheppard Granger certainly thought that it was.
She had planned to read until ten o’clock and then stop to watch her favorite television show. But the show had been preempted by media coverage of a small earthquake in California. With nothing else to do, she had continued reading. It was either that or let those memories of her days and nights in Miami get the best of her.
An hour later, she was tired of reading but not sleepy enough for bed. She could call and chat with her father but figured he was occupied with Mona. And, of course, Shana probably had her hands full of Jace. She smiled at the thought. Naughty, naughty thoughts.
Jules figured she would enjoy a glass of wine and surf the television channels for a decent movie, and she was about to head for the kitchen to get the wine when there was a knock at her door. No one would be visiting her at this time of night and definitely not unannounced. She quietly padded across the room to retrieve the Glock, which she kept in a decorative ottoman beside the fireplace. In her line of business, you could never be sure who might come calling.
She eased to the door and looked out the peephole. WTF? Dalton! How dare he show up at her place? And how did he know where she lived? She was certain Shana would not have told him. And even worse, he was reneging on their agreement. She snatched open the door. “What do you think you’re doing, coming here?”
He stood leaning in the doorway the same way he walked...with casual arrogance. He acted like he had every right to show up at her house at this hour, unannounced...not that it would have mattered if he had called first. The point was that he should not be here.
His tie was loose around his neck, and his sleeves were rolled up. The jacket of his Armani suit was thrown over his shoulder and, to her downfall, he looked too sexy for words. Tall, dark and predatory. Way too predatory, and she couldn’t help noticing his focus was entirely on her.
“You plan on shooting me, Jules?”
She realized then that she was holding her gun, although it wasn’t pointed at him. “I might,” she said, placing the gun on a table near the door. “I thought we had an agreement, Dalton.”
“We do.”
“Then why are you here?”
Instead of answering, he said in a deep, husky tone, “Invite me inside, Jules.”
A part of Jules wanted to slam the door shut in his face at that request. But then another, the one that recognized an electrical current flowing between them, wouldn’t allow her to do that.
“I brought you something.” She watched as he pulled a bag from behind his back. A bag from Parker’s, known for their delicious apple pies. When they were in Miami, why had she mentioned her addiction to them?
“I thought you would like a slice.”
She frowned. He hadn’t thought anything. He had known she would want a slice. But that was no reason for him to default on their agreement. “I was just about to have a glass of wine.”
“Then think of just how more enjoyable your glass of wine will be with this,” he said, holding up the bag.
“Hmm, you’re right.” She snatched the bag from his hand and was about to slam the door in his face when he stuck out his foot and stopped her.
“I forgot to mention that I come with that bag.”
Devious bastard. She should have known he hadn’t appeared on her doorstep with a Parker’s apple pie just because he was a nice guy. Dalton Granger had an ulterior motive for just about everything he did.
She looked at the bag and then back at him. Both, she knew from experience, were sinfully delicious. She licked her lips while wondering which she preferred tonight.
“Jules?”
She gave him an assessing glance. “I’m thinking.”
“Fine, you’re a thinker and I’m a doer, but we need to do it inside because it’s cold out here.” And then he brushed past her and walked into her home.
She frowned and closed the door behind him. “I don’t recall inviting you inside.”
He chuckled. “You’re holding my entry card in your hand,” he said, indicating the Parker’s bag. “I’d like a glass of wine, as well, and there’s enough apple pie for us to share.”
When she gave him a dirty look, he smiled and said, “I see you’re probably not too keen on sharing the pie.”
“There’s no probably in it,” she said, heading toward her kitchen.
He followed. “Don’t you know there’s pleasure in sharing?”
That one particular word stopped her short. Pleasure. She placed the bag on the kitchen counter and turned around. “Why are you here, Dalton?” Like I don’t know.
He leaned against the breakfast bar that separated her kitchen and dining room areas. “I’ve been thinking about you.”
Her lips twitched. Had that admission come grudgingly? Definitely sounded like it. “And just what have you been thinking about?”
“Do I have to tell you?”
No, he didn’t, but she wanted to hear it, anyway. “Yes, tell me, Dalton. What have you been thinking about?”
He held her gaze. “How good it felt being inside you.”
She believed at that moment her heart missed a beat. And if that wasn’t bad enough, a deep throb had started at the apex of her thighs. That’s what she got for asking. “We agreed that—”
“Do you think I don’t know what we agreed, Jules?” He rubbed his hand across his head, clearly frustrated. “Do you think I want to be here?” he asked testily. “But damn it, I like being inside you. I love the feel of your muscles clamping down tight on me while I thrust in and out of you. I love how easily your nipples slide between my lips and fit under my tongue. And I definitely love the feeling I get when my head is buried between your legs. And your taste...”
Trying to pretend that she wasn’t affected by his words, she opened the cabinet door to retrieve two wineglasses, while squeezing her legs together tightly. She fought the urge to put the glasses aside and cross the room to him, strip off her pj’s and spread her legs, because she loved the feeling she got whenever his head was buried between them, as well.
And his taste...
“Jules.”
She jumped. He was standing right there in front of her. When had he crossed the room? She should be piqued he had done so, but at that moment, she was so filled with awareness of him that she couldn’t. He was staring down at her, focusing on her with an intensity that should disturb her. But strangely, it didn’t. Instead, she knew how it felt to be totally desired. Wanted. She would even go so far as to say craved. She knew, because as much as she didn’t want to admit it, whenever she thought about him, she experienced those same things. Although she doubted she would have given in to such a weakness as making a booty call like he was obviously doing. But, she had to admit, the thought had crossed her mind a couple of times since she’d returned from Miami.
She stared back up at him, feeling the heat radiating off him. She heard a scraping sound and realized it came from him pulling one of her chairs back away from the table. Then she watched as he eased down into it, facing her. “You liked doing it this way, Jules.”
He’d spoken in a sexy tone, reminding her of the time in Miami one night when they had been on the hotel room’s patio. He had sat naked in a chair, and she had sat naked, straddling him while he thrust in and out of her. She had definitely liked that position. While sitting in the chair facing him, she was able to look into his face and see each and every one of his expressions. She hadn’t experienced anything as erotic in her entire life. And it seemed each and every thrust had met its mark, hitting right on her G-spot. She didn’t want to remember just how many orgasms she’d had that night.
“Don’t you?”
His question hung between them, brushing against her skin, soaking memories into her flesh. Her self-control was slipping, and she didn’t like it. When he calmly sat back in the chair and slowly eased his legs apart, she saw what he wanted her to see. His huge erection.
She closed her eyes for a moment, trying to breathe in slowly as she fought to regain her control. A racy, hot fire was inching through her body, wrapping around her like a cape. Tightening like a band around her, making it impossible for her to escape a need Dalton could so easily generate within her.
“You might as well open your eyes, because it’s not going anywhere.”
She opened her eyes, and it seemed the moment she did so, lust, as edgy and intense as it could get, took over her mind, and all she could do was stare at him, especially at his bulging crotch.
“You’re thinking too hard, Jules.”
Yes, she probably was. “And you’re getting too hard, Dalton.”
He smiled. “Making it just right for you,” he said, answering easily.
She shook her head. “This is crazy.”
He chuckled. “No, this is man wanting woman and woman wanting man. Nothing crazy about it.”
Jules sighed, not so sure. “I don’t even like you.”
“You could have fooled me in Miami, and I’m sure, given how I felt a few months ago, I could have fooled you, too. Sex has a way of changing people.”
“Not people,” she countered. “Attitudes.”
“Same difference. And have you finished thinking yet? Because when you stop thinking, then I can start doing.”
He had said she was the thinker and he was the doer, and considering her time with him while in South Beach, she believed him. “Yes, I’ve finished thinking.”
Dalton nodded slowly. “And what have you decided?”
Jules briefly considered how she would say this and decided to just be frank. “I’ve decided to see whether this chair is as sturdy as the one in Miami.”
She wasn’t sure what she saw first—the darkening of his eyes or the sexy smile that curved his lips. “There’s only one way to find out,” he said huskily.
Twenty-Four
Dalton concluded that although Jules might be the thinker and he the doer, when it came to this, they were of one accord. He could barely sit still watching Jules strip off her clothes in front of him. It amused him that whenever he’d seen her enter a nightclub, she’d always worn some sort of scandalous, barely there outfit. But here in the comfort of her home, beneath her robe, she was wearing flannel pajamas. However, he had to admit they were a cute pair, and she looked sexy in them.
“We really should be talking, Dalton.”
He watched her, captivated by how she was slowly easing her pajama bottoms down her legs. “Talking about what?”
“Why this shouldn’t be happening.”
In that case, she wasn’t about to hear a peep out of him.
“Dalton?” she called out to him when he hadn’t responded. Now his gaze was fixated on the area between her thighs. And from where he was sitting, it was at eye level. He forced his gaze to her face. “Yes?”
“I said we should be talking.”
“We should be doing just what we’re doing.”
She rolled her eyes when she began unbuttoning her shirt. “You would say that.”
Hell, he didn’t know a man alive who wouldn’t...considering the view he was getting. And when she tossed her flannel shirt aside and stood stark naked in front of him, his gaze latched on to her breasts. He thought the same thing now he’d thought the first time he’d seen them, tasted them, fondled them and sucked them. Her breasts were perfect.
His gaze dropped back to the apex of her thighs. He could feel his entire mouth tingle and couldn’t wait to get his tongue on her clit.
“You’re not going to take your clothes off?”
Instead of answering her question, he said in a low growl, “Come here.”
Their gazes met, held. He knew that by nature, Jules didn’t like to be ordered around. But she knew what walking over to him could mean. Pleasure beyond measure. However, he wasn’t surprised when she asked why. Like she really didn’t know.
“I want to taste you.”
He saw the flare of desire that lit her eyes. She was no longer thinking. She was ready to become a doer, as well. He watched as she shortened the distance between them. But she did not shorten it enough. “Closer.”
She took a few more steps. That still wasn’t good enough. “Closer, Jules.”
“If I come any closer, I’ll be in your face.”
Exactly. “Come closer and spread your legs.”
* * *
He certainly had a way with words, Jules thought, moving closer. And when he grabbed hold of her thighs, leaned forward and rubbed his face right in her center, she felt weak in the knees. And then she felt him lifting her off her feet, hefting her up by the hips so that his mouth was right there.
And the moment she felt his hot tongue slide inside her, she screamed out an orgasm. She was sure he could taste it, but he didn’t stop working his tongue inside her, holding tight to her thighs, securing her firmly against his mouth.
Suddenly, his tongue went deeper, touched that particular spot, and she could feel new sensations invade her body, spreading from where his mouth was to other parts of her. She began writhing against his mouth, and that seemed to make his tongue delve deeper still. He was consuming her like he intended her to be his last meal. Instinctively, she arched her back as she became caught up in the most intense degree of lust that could ever exist.
And then she was screaming again, but he wouldn’t let up. He didn’t let up until the last wave of her orgasm had washed through her. It was only then that he eased her back down to let her feet touch the tile floor. And she watched as he licked his lips. “You taste better than any wine that’s ever been created.”
Those words stayed with her while she watched him stand up and begin removing his clothes, and while she watched, she felt hunger build up inside her body once again. He was supposed to be out of her system, like she was supposed to be out of his. What in the world had gone wrong? Something had definitely backfired on both their parts.
When he had removed every stitch of his clothing and had sheathed his erection in a condom, he sat back down in the chair. “Now we’ll see how sturdy this chair is.”
She swallowed deeply. “We haven’t already?”
“We haven’t come close.”
She looked down and saw that his erection appeared larger than ever. And she knew at that moment that was what she wanted. Without waiting for an invite, she moved toward him and straddled his lap, widening her legs just inches above his shaft. She wanted to be looking in his face when they made the connection. She wanted to see every single expression of both greed and pleasure.
“Ready?”
She held his gaze. He didn’t know how ready she was. “Yes, ready. All systems go.”
“Then, baby, let’s blast off.”
And when she banged down on him, his shaft automatically thrust inside her. She could actually hear him grit his teeth, moan some unintelligible words, curse under his breath and growl deep in his throat, while thrusting in and out of her. And she simultaneously rode him with flawless precision and perfect timing. She held tight to the back of the chair, which gave his mouth access to her breasts, and all she could do was throw her head back and moan.
He continued thrusting inside her over and over again. She heard the chair squeaking, and at one time thought they might fall out of it and tumble to the floor, but it held firm...at least almost until the end. A leg was the first to go, but Dalton still didn’t stop; he just shifted his angle to put pressure on the remaining three chair legs.
And that was when she screamed, which was at the same time he threw back his head and shouted her name. He jumped up. Holding tight to her hips that were wrapped around him just seconds before the chair went crashing to the floor. He still didn’t stop. Pressing her against the table, his thick pulsating shaft continued to beat down, pound into her in long, deep and feverish strokes.
Her entire body shivered; her mind went blank except for the feelings tearing through her. How could her self-control compete with this? And when her body joined his in yet another spasm, she knew she was in serious trouble. She hadn’t counted on this. Hadn’t counted on Dalton Granger being the one man she couldn’t seem to get enough of. His yin to her yang...at least where sex was concerned.
A Lover's Vow Page 18
