"You aren't going to throw yourself at one of those bloody fools," he growled.
"Why? You won't allow it?"
"No. Because the woman I...know," he said, after a pause, "wouldn't sleep with an ass, just to spite me."
She took a deep breath. "You've got a high opinion of yourself."
"No. I've a high opinion of you."
He infuriated her. And heartened her. It was confusing. "Guess we'll just have to see."
He got out of the car, leaning down. "You haven't told me no," he said. "You said you're scared. And you said you want me. Last chance. Stay or go?"
She took a deep breath. Then frowned at him.
"I walked right up to Christian. I was an idiot. You want me? Work for it. Show me how much you want it," she challenged, surprising herself. "Then, we'll talk."
"I'll show you," he said, his voice a low promise. "Then, we'll do a lot more than talk."
Chapter 9
On the night of the ball, Rodney was standing in a camellia bush, dressed as a pirate, wondering if he'd lost his mind.
The crowd was still gathering, all of them moneyed, costumed, and presenting an invitation.
Had he given this more thought, he'd have found out where the invitations were printed and simply paid someone to create one for him, as well. He'd considered brazening it, as well, but apparently there was a pretty strict list. Bouncers were patrolling the main gates, and there was security everywhere. The Fielder House was a mansion, such as it was. It wasn't his family's seat, the great house in Surrey. Not by a long shot. But then, it was America. Few things came close to an 18th century castle.
He held onto his fake hook, feeling more and more foolish by the minute. He'd spent an outrageous amount on the costume, but he had to say, the tailor had done a good job of it. He looked just like Hook on that show Once Upon a Time, something he felt Stacy would fall for.
Between that and breaking and entering, he'd say he was putting in the effort, by God.
His chance finally came in the form of a rather slutty-looking Little Bo Peep.
"How dare you?!" the woman slurred, practically falling out her apron. Her curly blonde wig was cockeyed over her dark eyebrows. "Do you know who I am?"
"Madam," the woman checking names on the guest list said, as polite and monotone as a voicemail recording. "I'm afraid I don't, and I need to check your name on a list."
"I'm on the list," she snapped, then pushed her wig out of her eyes. "I'm...BO. PEEP."
Smashing, he thought, hiding a grin. He'd give her an extra hundred for the performance, no doubt about it.
"You're not on the list...Ms. Peep," the woman said, her tone never changing, even as she motioned imperceptibly to the security guards at the door.
"Don't you even think of tossing me... Hey!" She held up her shepherdess's crook, fending them off. "I'm goin' in there, damn it!"
With the men away from the door, he took the opportunity to step out, brush off the stray leaves, and blend into the crowd who had stopped to take in the spectacle. Then he simply walked inside the large double doors.
There were people everywhere, it seemed. There was music, bouncy classic rock, nondescript but festive. There were people who had gone all out on their costumes--and others who had simply opted for slutty versions of things, as his hired Bo Peep had been, only more expensive. There were Avengers and ball players. Others were wearing masks, like something from the Venice Carnival.
He only had eyes for one person in particular, however. He saw her and his breath caught.
She was wearing a full red ball gown with long sleeves. It showed cleavage, however tastefully, and her blonde hair was up in a loose bun with curling tendrils trailing the column of her neck. She was looking around the crowd, as well.
Looking for him, he hoped.
She was standing with her friends, who ran the gamut of costumes, including, surprisingly her female friend Mallory in an impressive gender-bent version of the Goblin King Jared from Labyrinth. He waited, watching for his chance.
He knew the moment she caught sight of him. She froze, holding herself in place, their eyes meeting, and he felt it--like a fire in his stomach. He wove through the crowd, barely cognizant of the people around him.
"You made it," she said.
"You doubted?"
"Past security?" She tilted her head. "How?"
"I'm inventive."
Her mouth curled into a seductive smile. "Oh, I'll just bet."
He held out a hand. The music had turned slow, something tender and romantic. "A dance, m'lady?"
She smiled, putting her hand in his. He swung her around softly, then held her in his arms, gently resting his temple against hers. "You look wonderful," he breathed.
She held his hook, and chuckled. "And you look like a dashing rapscallion."
"Just what I was going for."
"What are we doing?"
"Dancing, I believe."
She shifted back, her jade eyes serious. "I have never been this attracted to anyone in my life," she said. "Is there any way this can end well?"
"Now there's an optimist," he said, nuzzling her neck. "I've never been this attracted to anyone in my life either, but I'm not waiting for the other shoe to drop."
"Well, what do you think it is?" she asked, sounding adorably grumpy.
He felt a slow smile creep across his face. "I think," he said, "I finally got something right."
Her answering smile was like honey and sunlight, and God, he wanted to kiss her.
"Take me home," she said.
"Absolutely."
Chapter 10
This is crazy. This is crazy. This is crazy.
This is hot.
Stacy couldn't keep her mind focused, but thankfully, she didn't need to. She'd never felt like this, not even with Christian--this white hot need to be with someone, to feel his body against hers, to simply damn thinking altogether and let everything burn.
She took him down a side exit and they ran like thieves to where he'd parked his car, down the street, past where the valets were parking cars. Her parents' mansion was at the foot of Mount Si, out in the middle of the woods. She didn''t feel the cold, because it felt like she was burning from the inside out. They took his car – a classy but understated BMW, rather than Esmerelda, she noted with surprise -- and she directed him to the townhouse she lived in, up on the Snoqualmie Ridge. Thought it was only ten minutes away, she felt like they were the longest ten minutes of her life.
He parked in her driveway, and wordlessly she headed to the front door, trying not to sprint. She felt like she was going to explode if she didn't get her hands on him immediately. She fumbled with the key, her hand shaking.
She felt his hand cover hers, steadying her, easing the key into the lock. Well, that's Freudian, she thought, with a hysterical giggle.
"Are you all right?" he asked, as they stepped in, closing the door behind them. "I want you, no question. But I don't want you to do anything that you don't feel comfortable with."
She dropped her keys into the bowl by the door, then turned to look at him. His eyes were dilated and his breathing was ragged. He looked like a scoundrel, she thought, with the elaborate pirate costume. In fact, it was as if they were really just a pirate and a maiden--her, taken captive by this dashing, dangerous man.
Except the dashing, dangerous man was obviously a gentleman. She'd never been into roleplaying before, but she'd certainly give it a whirl tonight.
She took him by the hand, leading him upstairs to the master bedroom. Ordinarily, it was just someplace she changed clothes and slept – she hadn't had any man over since she moved in, and she'd moved in after the Christian disaster. Now, the warm amber painted walls and the rust and ruby comforter seemed unbelievably sensual, the glow from her stained glass lamp adding to the ambiance.
She batted her eyelashes at him, smirking. "Now that you have me, Captain, what are you going to do with me?"
He looked surprised fo
r a second, thensmiled devilishly. "Oh, it's like that, is it?" he asked, his voice warm with humor and laced with passion. "Well, lass...I think that I'm going to do things you've never even dreamed of."
"I don't know.... I've dreamt about it quite a bit," she murmured, slipping off her shoes and reaching to her back.
He stripped off his embroidered jacket, leaving him in a white linen shirt, which he quickly peeled off as well. Her eyes popped for a second--the guy was surprisingly ripped, a nicely muscled chest with just enough definition. Yum, her body thought, her heart racing.
"Oh, the look on your face, love," he murmured, smiling. "It's enough to make a man feel ten feet tall."
"Are you planning on ravishing me, Captain?" she shot back.
"I'm planning on torturing you," he said, still grinning. "Both of us, perhaps."
He stalked over to her, crushing their lips together. Her hands smoothed up the broad expanse of his chest as his tongue tangled with hers, his lips massaging hers with passionate abandon. She whimpered with need, pressing her chest against his. The problem was, she had too many clothes on, she thought.
She pushed him away.
"Are you all--" he started to ask, then went silent as she quickly unzipped and stepped out of the red dress, leaving only her lacy white strapless bra and high-cut panties, as well as white stockings on a white garter belt. He made an unintelligible sound.
She leaned back on the bed. "Let's see what you've got," she challenged, feeling deliciously wanton, unbelievably free.
His look was one of almost reverence. Instead of leaping on her as she expected, he stretched out beside her. "You're better than I imagined," he breathed. "God, you're stunning."
She started to reach for him, but to her shock, he stopped her. "Remember? Torture. Don't make me tie you up."
She'd never been into that, either...but hell, tonight, with this man, she was into anything. "Maybe later."
She saw the second of shock, but then his quick, hugry smile...just before his head leaned down, taking her nipple into his mouth, licking her and suckling her through the lace. She felt the contrast of textures, the wet heat of his tongue, the smoothness of the silk versus the slight abrasion of the lace. He cupped her other breast with his palm, squeezing gently, with a gradually escalating roughness that seemed to take into account what her body craved. She felt her hips lifting off the bed, her thighs rubbing together restlessly. "Rodney..." she gasped, aching.
He didn't stop. He tugged down the cup, licking her directly, suckling harder until she was arching her back to fit herself more deeply into his mouth. She made a soft sound of protest as his hand moved away from her breast, only to quiet immediately as she felt his palm stroke down the plane of her stomach, resting on the soft mound over her clit. She took a ragged breath as his teeth softly grazed her nipple.
He shifted from one breast to the other as his fingers delved beneath the waistband of her panties, parting her curls, finding her narrow opening. He flexed his fingers, spreading her open, stroking her. She felt the wave of wetness in response and started moving, her hands reaching for his shoulders, her fingers moving to weave themselves into his hair.
"Now, now..." he said, tugging her up and removing her bra. "Torture. I'm going to take my time."
The man had more patience than she did, that was for damned sure. She felt his every heated breath as he pressed kisses down her chest, moving lower. He started to tug her panties down, then realized they would get caught up on the garter belt. He paused for a second, frowning.
"Hurry," she said, her head lolling on the pillows.
"I'll bloody well buy you new ones," he muttered as he simply tore her panties off, leaving the garter belt on. He tossed the ruined undies to one side, gripping her hips, keeping her still as his head went down...
She couldn't help arching as that hot, seeking tongue of his found her swollen clit and started circling it, suckling hard. Her breathing was harsh and broken, her hands making fists in her sheets as her head moved from one side to the other. She could feel it...that delicious pressure, building.
"Please," she whispered mindlessly, her body tensing beneath his ministrations. "God, please...oh! Yes..."
He started working faster, his tongue dancing, flicking and pressing against her sex. Then he reached down, pressing two fingers inside her.
She came in an explosion, shouting as pleasure overwhelmed her. She was breathing hard, feeling floaty and almost numb, as she heard him rip a condom package open. His hands were the ones shaking now, she noticed, as he stripped off the rest of his clothes and rolled the condom onto himself. His cock jutted out impressively, she noticed, and she felt her body start to hunger for the feel of him against her.
When he turned back to her, she smiled, holding out her arms. "Now," she said simply. "I want to feel you inside me."
He let out an incoherent moan and fitted himself over her, the heat of his body melting against hers. His chest hair rubbed against her sensitive, pebble-hard nipples as he kissed her deeply. She sighed and reached down, feeling the heavy hardness of him, guiding him to where she was already wet and dying for him.
He glided in, stretching her, filling her to the point of bursting, but it felt wonderful. It felt better than anything she could ever remember feeling. She lifted her legs, cradling him, wrapping them around his waist, encouraging him to go deeper, deeper...
He groaned, pressing his face against her neck. "You are so lovely," he said, his British accent making the words even sexier, the deep, rasping timbre caressing her just as much as his body. He withdrew, then pressed deeper. She lifted her hips to meet his.
Within moments, they were moving, arching together, straining in a furious rhythm. She clawed at his back. He circled his hips ever so slightly, the base of his shaft colliding with her clit as he rammed into her willing warmth. Soon, they were both breathless, both mindless to everything but pleasure.
The pressure was building again, amazingly--and it felt like it would be even stronger, if possible. She struggled, her whole body clenching around him. "I'm...I'm going to..."
He groaned and grabbed her hips, spearing into her, striking her in that elusive spot that he seemed to find unerringly. She screamed, tugging at his hair, and she felt him shudder, heard him shout his own completion as he came inside her, her own convulsions gripping him tightly.
When it was over, he collapsed to her side, twisting her against him. They lay that way for a long moment, him still buried inside her, their sweat-slicked bodies so close they were practically one as they both let out gulping, gasping breaths.
"Bloody hell, woman," he finally said. "You are a goddess."
She stretched, smiling. "And you, sir, are a pirate."
He smiled. "Give me a few minutes, and maybe we can go again?"
"As soon as I can feel my limbs," she promised, before twining her fingers into his dark hair and dragging him down for another languid kiss.
Chapter 11
Rodney woke the next morning to find himself in a strange bed--a comfortable bed. With the enticing form of Stacy, spooned up against him. It felt like warmth and home and everything he'd ever wanted.
He nuzzled at the back of her neck. "Happy New Year," he whispered. I'm falling in love with you, he thought as he pressed a kiss on her shoulder, on her neck, where her jawbone met the back of her ear.
She sighed. "I'd say we're off to a great start," she breathed, stretching, deliciously rubbing against parts of him that were already awake. "And my, you're lively when you wake up."
Which was ridiculous. They'd gotten perhaps three hours of sleep, and they'd been...energetic, to say the least. He simply couldn't get enough of her.
She rolled over, facing him, her grey eyes serious. "What are we doing, Rodney?"
He nuzzled a little more. "Well, I was going to say shower and breakfast, but now I'm thinking of something else, then shower, then breakfast."
She giggled as he tickled her collarbone wi
th his tongue. "No. I mean...is this a relationship? Or is this just...you know..."
He lifted his head. "What's 'you know'?"
She shrugged, looking like she was doing her best to keep her face casual. "Having fun. Breakfast with benefits. That sort of thing."
He leaned back on one elbow. "Are you asking my intentions, Ms. Fielder?"
Now she looked pained. "I know, I know. Everybody says, don't scare a guy off, don't say anything about the dreaded 'R' word, and we've only been together one night," she said. "One incredible night, that will probably set the bar impossibly high for any future men in my life."
The term "future men" soured his stomach.
"But the fact is, I'm not really a fling sort of girl," she said, her smile heartbreaking with its sweetness. "That was how I got in trouble with my ex. I let things get serious too quickly. I need someone who's at least willing to entertain the possibility of a commitment--a long one. And if he's not ready for that...well. It's probably better not to waste our time."
She looked resolved. He smiled, stroking her cheek, cupping her face as she leaned in with a sigh.
"Love," he said, his voice steady with promise, "I already told you: we aren't going to be a one night stand. I don't know that I'd promise forever, it's too soon for that, and you wouldn't, nor should you, trust anything that was that immediate. But believe me, this is no fling. I want to get to know you and I want you to get to know me. I want to spend as much time as I can with you, only you. For as long as you'll have me."
She blinked, and he watched her throat clench as she swallowed. "Wow. That's...more than I was expecting."
"Too bloody right," he muttered, making her laugh out loud. "I have to say, Ms. Fielder, I have never had anyone ambush me as neatly as you appear to have--and you weren't even trying. Does a number on a fellow's ego."
Now she grinned. "Well, we can't have that."
Before they could pursue it further, he heard the jingling tone of a cell phone. He frowned. "That's not mine."
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