by Erika Wilde
It was the biggest room in the apartment by far, with a pair of decorative sliding doors that were located right off the living room. She saved that to show him last, because it meant the most to her. During the planning stages of construction, she’d requested this expansive room with shelves and drawers and various build-outs, and the grumpy, closed-off man at the time hadn’t asked questions. He’d just kept his head down and gotten the job done, giving her exactly what she’d envisioned.
But now, Remy wanted to see what she’d created behind the double doors, and she was anxious to share her professional and personal aspirations with a man who already seemed to appreciate her business acumen and ingenuity.
She exhaled a deep breath, because this was the first man she’d ever allowed to see beyond these doors, except for her brothers, of course. And for some reason she couldn’t explain, his reaction, his approval mattered to her . . . and maybe she was hoping for something more, too. Because if he looked beyond the business concept, everything in this room also revealed the heart of who she was as a woman. Her sensuality. Her intimate thoughts. Her desire to please a man who would finally set free all the indecent fantasies and darker needs she kept locked away, because so far in her dating experience, no one had been worthy of that passionate side to her sexuality.
Remy might be the picture of a perfect gentleman as he followed her throughout her apartment, but over the years, she’d seen just enough of an underlying edge to him to make her suspect that he’d be able to satisfy those carnal hungers—if she could only get him to acknowledge and act upon their mutual attraction. Time to find out.
She placed her hand on the door but didn’t open it yet. Instead, she glanced back at Remy a bit nervously, though she kept her voice light and flirty. “So, this is where all the magic happens.”
The corner of his mouth quirked with a smile, giving her one of those rare glimpses of a playful Remy. “What kind of magic?”
The sexy rumble in his voice, intended or not, seemed to vibrate through her entire body, and she wasn’t surprised when her nipples furled tight against the silk material of her dress. “All the creativity for Wilder Passion.”
“Let me see,” he murmured, his interest clear in his eyes.
She slid the heavy panel open and walked inside the immense workspace, hearing Remy’s footsteps behind her on the hardwood floor. She took it all in, as she knew Remy was currently doing as he came to a stop beside her. In the far back of the room was an entire sewing area, with a cutting table, an ironing board to press fabric, drawers and cabinets for tools and supplies, and a few different sewing machines.
In this main area, she’d put in a long drafting table that was covered with her latest sketched designs in various stages of creation, along with other ideas that were pinned on the wall for future reference. There were even a few pairs of panties laid out on the surface, which she’d used for inspiration. On the opposite side were rows upon rows of bolts of fabric filling the many shelves Remy had built for her. All her fine silks, satins, and lace in dark, jewel-toned colors, and a few pastels mixed in for variety, all easily accessible while she was creating her pieces of lingerie.
“So, how does this whole subscription box process work?” he asked curiously.
“I design the lingerie, make the prototypes, then send it to a reputable manufacturer I have a contract with to make the pieces, which then go to a warehouse where I have employees who pack up the subscription boxes according to a person’s order.”
She followed his fascinated gaze to the three life-size female mannequins positioned side by side a few feet from where she and Remy were standing, each one wearing varying levels of intimate apparel that would eventually go into a future Wilder Passion subscription box.
She walked up to the first mannequin, which was wearing a dark purple full-coverage lace bra with a tiny embroidered butterfly between the two cups, and matching bikini panties. “So, every month there are three different lingerie sets to choose from, labeled as either sweet, sexy, or seductive,” she said, explaining her process. “The subscriber can pick one, or all three, depending on their taste and what they like to wear. This first bra and panty set is from the sweet collection, because it pretty much covers all the essentials but still makes a woman feel feminine and beautiful, which is the most important thing.”
“Very nice,” he said, the sound of his voice a bit rough.
He shifted on his feet and slid his hands into the front pockets of his pants, and Tempest wondered if talking about lingerie and female bodies was making him envision her in these creations. Oh, she hoped so. She moved on to the second mannequin, dressed in a red baby-doll nightie, with thin straps holding up the lace cups and a flowing, flirty hemline that barely covered the thong panties beneath.
“Then, we have the sexy collection,” she continued, determined to ruffle his feathers a bit, just to see if this man’s composure would crack under pressure. “These designs are meant to tempt and tease a lover.”
He cleared his throat. “Definitely sexy,” he agreed.
She bit back a smile and stood next to the last mannequin, smoothing her hand along the one-piece, all black, see-through lace teddy that molded to a woman’s curves and left very little to the imagination. “And here we have the seductive piece, which is always the most risqué lingerie for the month, for those women who like to be daring and feel confident in their sexuality. This one is designed so that a woman can wear it beneath her clothing to seduce her man when the time is right. It even has little snaps at the crotch for easy access. It’s currently one of my favorite pieces to wear beneath one of my business suits.”
He groaned, sounding like a dying man. “You’re deliberately trying to make me sweat, aren’t you?”
She laughed and sauntered over to the drafting table, the skirt of her gown swirling around her legs. “Maybe,” she admitted, and picked up a black satin G-string she’d recently sewn as a prototype and held it up for him to see. “I just designed and made this pair of panties. What do you think of them?”
His gaze dropped to the black fabric stretched between her hands, at the little triangle of material that would barely cover a woman’s mound, and all the many thin straps that crisscrossed over and around her hips yet left her ass completely bare.
He rubbed a hand along the back of his neck. “I can’t imagine that they’d cover much.”
She rolled her eyes playfully at him. “That’s the point, Remy.”
He shook his head, a confused frown furrowing his brow. “There are so many strappy things attached to that G-string. How does it even go on?”
“Would you like me to show you?” she asked, deliberately keeping her tone casual and oh so innocent.
His eyes darkened, and his jaw clenched, as if he’d just envisioned her in those skimpy panties. “Jesus Christ, Tempest. No.” His tone was brusque. Painfully so.
“I meant on the mannequin, Remy,” she said with a laugh, though she found his reaction enlightening and encouraging.
He swore beneath his breath and narrowed his gaze. “You are such a goddamn tease,” he said, his tone more exasperated than angry. “I never know what to expect from you.”
She liked keeping him on his toes and getting under his skin. “Keeps things interesting, don’t you think?”
He didn’t answer her and instead exhaled a harsh breath and changed the subject completely. “You said you wanted to discuss business with me. That’s why we came up to your apartment. Not for you to try and seduce me.”
The fact that he felt seduced was a win in her book. “Okay, let’s talk business,” she agreed.
“Not in here,” he said, waving a hand through the air. “It’s too damn distracting.”
“Fair enough.” She led the way back out to the living room and indicated the red couch with black and gray throw pillows. “Want to have a seat?”
He shook his head. “No, thanks. Business, Tempest,” he reiterated in a tone of voice that was al
most growly. “And then I really need to go.”
Since he remained standing, she did, as well, and leaned a hip against the back of the sofa. “So, I’m currently in the market for a building that will most likely need to be completely renovated so that the first level is an upscale bar and the floors above it are fantasy-themed hotel rooms for exclusive guests to enjoy. The place is going to be called Wilder Things.”
His brows raised incredulously. “Are you opening a sex club?”
He was completely serious and she laughed at the glimmer of shock in his eyes. “No, Remy, nothing so scandalous. Just a regular bar, albeit a classy and trendy one, and a boutique hotel that will provide couples with a romantic, seductive getaway without even leaving New York City. And once I purchase the right building, which hopefully will be soon, I’d like to hire Lowell Construction to help design and build out the space. Specifically, I want to hire you.”
“Sounds like a fairly large project.”
“It will be. But if anyone can handle the size and scope, it’s you.” She smiled at him. “I saw firsthand what you did with this building we’re standing in, which was once a run-down warehouse that nobody wanted to touch.”
“It helped that your brother gave me an astronomical budget to work with,” he said pointedly.
“It’ll be the same for this project,” she assured Remy, who was probably already going over figures in his head. “I want the best of everything so the bar is a showpiece and the fantasy-themed rooms are jaw-dropping.” While Wilder Things was her baby and she’d be running the business and making all the design decisions, both her brothers were silent partners, which provided her with the finances to make this dream of hers happen.
“Are you interested?” she asked him.
“Absolutely,” he replied without hesitation. “I’m in the finishing stages of a few sizeable projects, but if you’re able to find the building you want within the next couple of months, I could definitely get our schedules to align and make it happen.”
Excitement bubbled up in her at the realization that the concept she’d envisioned for years was finally falling into place. “Perfect.”
“You can contact me once you’ve purchased the building,” he said, his demeanor, along with the tone of his voice, purely professional. “And on that note, I think it’s time for me to leave.”
Not if she could help it, she thought, and decided to flip the script, to reverse the situation by doing something completely unexpected. She might want Remy Lowell for her business venture, but she desired him for her personal pleasure and she’d made no secret of that fact over the past few years. And before he managed to skip out on her, she figured it was finally time to see if that spark she felt between them could turn into a flame if she dared to turn up the heat a bit.
He was looking at her expectantly, as if waiting for her to wish him a good night or start toward the elevator as a good hostess would do so he could follow her. Instead, she pushed off the back of the couch and strolled toward the hot, sexy man who’d kept a respectable distance between them during their conversation. She’d never been the kind of modest woman who’d sit on the sidelines waiting for a man to make the first move. No, she was a bold, confident woman who took chances and went after what she wanted.
And she really, really wanted Remy Lowell.
His posture tensed as she neared, as if he was steeling himself for whatever she intended to deliver. Stopping inches away, she tipped her head back to look in his dark eyes that were filled with a mix of emotions. “Remy, do you find me intimidating?” Her question was a deliberate dare, because strong, commanding men like him were not daunted by a self-assured woman, thank God.
He stared down at her, a muscle in his cheek ticking—the only indication that her standing close enough to touch affected him. “No.” He hesitated a handful of seconds, then shocked her by admitting something honest and real. “Truth be told, I find you too fucking tempting.”
His confession made her blood sing and her body heat in all the right places. “And why is that a bad thing?” she countered. “I find you equally tempting. I don’t think I’ve made a secret of that, and if this attraction between us is mutual, why are you trying so hard to resist me?”
“Because I’m all wrong for you,” he said gruffly, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. “In a dozen different ways.”
She lifted her hand and splayed her palm just inside his unbuttoned tuxedo jacket, right over his rapidly beating heart and his rock-hard chest. She gave him a flirty smile and tried to lighten things between them. “Lady and the Tramp figured out a way to make it work.”
Her comment did nothing to erase the frown on his face. So, she shamelessly slid her hand a little lower, appreciating the six-pack indentation of his firm abs beneath his dress shirt. She could feel the latent power in him in the way he was holding back and shivered at the thought of him unleashing all that aggression and her being the recipient of that dominant force he kept so carefully concealed. And just as she decided to test his restraint and let her hand wander into more interesting territory, he circled his fingers around her wrist and jerked her hand away.
“I don’t live in a fairy-tale world like you do,” he said through clenched teeth, even as he swept his thumb across the pulse point in her wrist. “Do I want to bend you over that couch and fuck you so hard and deep you’ll scream my name?” he asked, deliberately being crude, most likely to offend her, but his words thrilled Tempest instead, tapping into that part of her that wanted to be taken, hard and rough. “Yeah, I think you already know the answer to that, princess, but I’m not your polished and refined prince, and I guarantee that there is no happily ever after with me, so it’s not going to happen. Not to mention that your brother, Maddux, would cut my balls off if I messed around with his baby sister, who is seven years younger than me.”
A throaty, amusing laugh escaped her. “For God’s sake, Remy, I’m a grown woman. Maddux doesn’t get a say in who I date or sleep with.”
“Yeah, well, I’m not going to test that theory.”
She wasn’t deterred. If anything, she took it as a challenge. “Then maybe I will.”
Leaning into him, she rose on her heels a few inches and lightly brushed her mouth against his, enticing him with what she was offering. He stiffened, but to her surprise, he didn’t pull away, but he didn’t actively participate either. Emboldened, she ran her tongue along his full bottom lip, tasting the faint hint of bourbon and something inherently, arousingly male. When she gently tugged that same lip between her teeth, his fingers tightened around her wrist, and he groaned like a man on the verge of breaking.
The chime of the elevator arriving on her floor startled not only Remy but Tempest, too. He dropped her hand and immediately stepped back, seconds before the doors slid open. She couldn’t imagine who’d venture up to her apartment with the fairy-tale ball still going on downstairs. She hadn’t locked out her floor from visitors, and only a few people had a key card to her place.
She expected to see Hunter or Maddux or both, arriving to deliver the news of Theodore Cole’s fate. Instead, Kyle strolled out of the elevator, looking way too cocky and as though he had every right to be in her apartment, which he didn’t. She’d never given him a key card, and she was more than a little pissed that he thought he had the right to invade her privacy.
She walked toward him, ready to wipe that arrogant look right off his face. “What are you doing here, and how did you get up to my apartment?”
CHAPTER FOUR
One minute Remy was trying really fucking hard to resist Tempest’s bold, seductive advance so he didn’t do something stupid—like push her down onto the couch and take what she was offering—and ruin his working relationship with her brother. And in the next jarring second, he was delivered a soul-deep shock he’d never seen coming as Kyle Jenkins—his half-brother—sauntered into the apartment. A sibling that Remy was ninety-nine-point-nine percent certain didn’t even know he exist
ed thanks to a selfish, gold-digging bitch of a mother who’d abandoned Remy at the age of seven to marry a wealthy businessman.
She’d cut all ties to Remy and her former life on that heart-shattering day she’d walked out on him and his father, and he hadn’t heard from Crystal Lowell—now Jenkins—or seen her since. But as an adult, out of morbid curiosity that had collided with his better common sense, Remy had looked her up on social media. He’d seen pictures of Crystal with her husband and the grown son she seemed to adore. And that son wasn’t Remy but Kyle. Remy had been completely erased from Crystal’s life, while Kyle had reaped the benefits of being part of a family that should have included Remy.
His stomach churned as his past crashed into his present in a spectacular way, bringing on a wave of painful memories he had no desire to revisit when he’d thought he’d managed to compartmentalize them into a neat little box. But all that torment of feeling inadequate—for both his mother and his ex-wife—seemed to mock him as he stared at his half-brother.
He had no idea what Kyle’s connection to Tempest was, but the awful intuition knotting in his gut, along with the smug, self-assured way Kyle entered her apartment and the intimate way his gaze raked over Tempest’s body in her red dress, made Remy more than a little nauseous. Were they dating? Were they a couple? He couldn’t imagine that Tempest would come on to him if she was in a relationship with Kyle. Christ, could this triangle get any more twisted?
While Remy remained rooted to the spot in the living room as he tried to deal with this unexpected and unwelcome encounter and process all the shitty emotions it had dredged up, Tempest walked briskly toward Kyle, her posture indignant.
