Addicted (Tempting Book 4)

by Alex Lucian

  Addicted

  Book Four In The Tempting Series

  Alex Lucian

  Contents

  Preface

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  Books by Alex Lucian

  Addicted (book four in the Tempting series) by Alex Lucian

  © 2016 by Alex Lucian

  All rights reserved.

  Cover Designer: Najla Qamber Designs

  Interior Designer: The Write Assistants

  Editing: M. Wiemer, Jon Perry

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, brands, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, actual events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  The author acknowledges the trademark status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

  Addicted is a standalone in the erotic Tempting series. You do not need to read Tempting, Beguiling, or Provocative in order to understand this story. Elias, the main character in this novel, was introduced in Tempting and continued in Provocative, however neither book is required reading for you to follow the events that take place in this book.

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  About the erotic Tempting series

  Book One: Tempting (Adele & Nathan, part one)

  A romance between a college student named Adele and her hot professor, Nathan, that is much deeper than just the forbidden aspect of their relationship. Released November 2015.

  Book Two: Beguiling (Scarlet & Leo, standalone)

  A romance about Leo, the all-star quarterback, and his pain-in-the-ass, preacher’s daughter neighbor, Scarlet whose bucket list will make their summer fly by a little bit faster. Released March 2016.

  Book Three: Provocative (Adele & Nathan, part two)

  The continuation and conclusion to Adele and Nathan’s tumultuous romance. Released July 2016.

  Book Four: Addicted (Ruby & Elias, standalone)

  Elias, a man haunted by his beloved sister’s death, hires an escort named Ruby who is much more than she seems. Released October 2016.

  To Kate, because your beauty and grace will always be timeless

  Chapter One

  I arrived twenty minutes early, scoping out the hotel’s lounge and reception for the usual suspects. I didn’t frequent the same places in order to avoid suspicion, which kept my guard up and my eyes alert. These were important things to remember.

  The lobby bathroom was decked out, black marble for miles, with itty specks that sparkled under the low lighting. I touched up my makeup and reapplied deodorant and lip stain. I gargled the mouthwash I’d brought, double checking that I had a toothbrush and floss for later. After smearing a good lot of lotion across my arms, I grabbed the hand sanitizer from my bag and squirted a glob of it into my palms. I didn’t want to dry out my hands with the hotel-provided soap.

  Ten minutes to go.

  I left the bathroom for the lounge and idly looked over the heads of the patrons.

  Tall, dark, and bearded. That’s what he’d told me. It wasn’t much to go on, but he’d also let me know he’d sit beside an aquarium if he arrived first. I debated going to the bar for a beverage when I didn't see him there. I usually brought my flask, filled with only a shot’s worth of vodka to keep my head level but still enough to chill my nerves. But in my haste to get downtown and not have to walk seven blocks to the hotel in my black stilettos, I’d forgotten the flask on my kitchen countertop.

  It didn’t matter how many times I did this; I was always a little bit nervous.

  As my eyes searched the lounge, I became aware of a gentleman at the bar, who was staring at me unabashedly.

  Refusing to meet his eyes, I made my way to another side of the bar while I waited. I pulled out my phone just to make sure I didn’t have a text message from him informing me he was late before tucking it away. I didn’t need my phone as a distraction right now.

  The bartender set a fruity-looking drink in front of me. The maraschino cherry on top bled into the whipped cream and I stared at it like the unwelcome intrusion it was.

  “From the gentleman down there,” the bartender said in a low voice as he cocked his head to the blond-haired man who’d been ogling me when I walked in. I regretted flicking my eyes to him because in doing so, I had to see the way he stared at me.

  There was no doubt that the dress I wore showed off my assets—it was why I’d worn it. It was black, with an opaque panel that covered my breasts and lower half. The panel was open between my breasts, but it wasn’t totally indecent, because over the panel was black lace fabric that covered the opening all the way up to my neck, stopping at my shoulders to leave my arms bare. The dress came to mid-thigh, and with my simple earrings and my midnight-black hair braided in one plait over my shoulder, nothing about me screamed that I was asking for attention. Especially not from the blond man, and his slug-like lips.

  Ignoring the drink, I looked to the entrance for the man I was meeting, but felt a little spike of urgency in my blood when the drink-buyer stepped into my sights.

  Always be alert: it was my mantra.

  “Helllllo,” he said, looking me up and down. In his hand was a short drink, and it sloshed against the sides as he leaned against the bar top. I took him in, the shirt that looked like it was inspired by a tropically located bathroom’s wallpaper. “You look lonely.”

  I wanted to ignore him, but seeing how he was none-too-subtly encroaching on my personal space, I couldn’t exactly pretend not to see him. “I’m not, thank you.” Pointedly, I looked over his shoulder at the entrance for the lounge.

  The man stepped closer. “That drink looks like Hawaii, don’t you think?” Ah, Hawaii—explained the shirt. I sized him up. Six foot, two-hundred and fifty pounds. Mid-forties with leathery-looking skin most likely thanks to repeated sun exposure.

  Glancing at the fruity beverage, I said, “It looks like a diabetic coma.”

  “You’re too good for a piña colada?” He sounded displeased and I pushed the drink to him.

  “Not too good, no. Just not in the mood for sugar-laden drinks or the strangers who buy them for me.” My eyes were steel as I looked up at him. “I’m waiting for someone.” Get a hint, buddy.

  “Let me keep you company while you wait,” he inv
ited, sitting in the seat beside me and effectively blocking my view of the lounge entrance.

  “I don’t need company,” I said as calmly as possibly. I’d dealt with pushy men like this guy, men who couldn’t take a hint if it slapped them across their smug faces. But it usually got my guard up, regardless. We weren’t in Hawaii, and this man wasn’t someone who was a genuine threat, which made him easy to dismiss.

  “I’m just going to sit here anyway.”

  “Then you’ll be sitting alone,” a deep voice said at my back. The mere proximity of him set my skin afire with goosebumps and I reigned in any reaction I may have had for the sake of professionalism. I felt the man’s presence come to my side and when he said, “Hi, Ruby,” I recognized his voice immediately. I liked the way he said my name, his voice all rumbly and warm.

  I turned my head, already curving my lips in welcome. But then I took him in—as much of him as I could, at least.

  Christ.

  He was huge. And dark. And daunting. Dark hair covered his head and wrapped around his jaw in a beard that made me think of flannel and wood smoke. His eyes were direct and intense, like he was memorizing my face.

  One bead of sweat slid slowly down my spine. He was … wow.

  His dark eyes searched me before he looked beyond me, to the man whose jaw had likely collapsed to the bar top. “Get lost.”

  Two words. Two one-syllable words and the Hawaiian-shirted man was gone before his shadow could catch up.

  “Elias?”

  He nodded once, slowly, hailing the bartender over with the lightest beckon if his hand. There was power in him, something I immediately found alluring. This was a man who owned not just the room he walked into, but the people in it as well.

  “Get rid of this,” he motioned to the whipped cream monstrosity before turning to me. “What would you like?”

  I smiled politely as I contemplated. I normally might have ordered something stronger. But something about Elias’ presence made me change my mind. “Martini, three-to-one ratio of vermouth please.”

  “Dirty?” The bartender wiped down the counter where the fruity drink had sat, and placed a small, blood red napkin in its place.

  I shook my head and the bartender disappeared down the bar.

  “Dirty martinis are for rookies.” Elias sounded impressed, even pleased.

  I angled my head and smiled softly. “I like to taste my alcohol.”

  “I’m surprised by the three-to-one ratio, though. Isn’t it usually five-to-one?”

  “Wet.” I didn’t need to tease this man with sultry words. He’d seen me before I’d seen him—he was already interested. But that didn’t make my answer any less sexual-sounding. “I like my martinis to be wet.” The low light masked his eyes, but I sensed a shift in his gaze nonetheless. “What about you?”

  “I prefer wet, too.”

  Considering he hadn’t actually ordered any alcohol, I knew he was alluding to something else. It gave me a genuine smile, not the practiced, carefully crafted smile I usually wore for situations like this one. He had a warmness that the Hawaii man had lacked, a sort of wry sense of humor at our situation.

  The bartender set the drink in front of me and Elias laid a shiny black card on the equally black bar top. But still, his eyes were on me. He was taking every single inch of me in, like he didn’t already know what I looked like. His eyes trailed over the braid and I registered his swallow. He’d told me over the phone, he liked the photo he’d seen of me with a braid.

  “Start a tab?” the bartender asked. Elias looked at me with a question in his eyes.

  I subtly shook my head to Elias. “Just the one drink for me.”

  “No tab,” Elias said, not taking his eyes off of me. “Just the check.”

  I shifted on my seat, pressing my thighs together. “Thank you for the drink.”

  “You’re welcome to more.” He gestured an arm out and I took in his clothing. He was as he’d described on the phone—tall and dark. But he was much more than that. He was early thirties, deeply tanned, with lips that held just a bit of a pout in the lower lip. And he was in excellent health, judging by the whites of his eyes and the fit of his body. There was no hint of muscles—oh no, the muscles were obvious, but not in a way that was meant to distract. The dark charcoal sweater wrapped around his arms with just enough slack to show the curves of the muscles that coiled around his thick arms. He wore dark jeans and black dress shoes. His clothes insinuated money, which was a good sign. The heavy silver watch at his wrist touted money too, but not flashy in the way of diamonds or a large logo.

  My sense of professionalism was never far, however and I was reminded that this wasn’t what it appeared to be. I was almost sad when I shook my head. “I don’t make a habit of getting drunk,” I said, not adding in situations like these to the end of my sentence. It wasn’t necessary, just like the alcohol wasn’t.

  I was already excited. That’s what the little curl in my blood was from. Elias projected just enough masculinity and a certain kind of peace—despite his massive height and the broadness of his shoulders. Like he could keep me safe.

  Shaking my head slightly, I told myself I wasn’t looking for a bodyguard.

  “Sorry, I was a couple minutes late.”

  “It’s fine,” I assured him, touching a hand to his arm just because I wanted to feel the muscle beneath. I touched just his forearm, but even that smallest bit held a powerhouse of muscle shifting under my hand.

  And I didn’t let go for several seconds.

  “You’re stunning, Ruby. I regret not telling you the second I sat down.”

  It caught me off guard. He said it with complete sincerity. I didn’t doubt him, but I didn’t often indulge in compliments like that. Too many and they’d go to your head; make you lazy. “Thank you.” I took the opportunity to eye him up and down. “I have to say, I’m pleasantly surprised.”

  He laughed lightly, his shoulders moving up and down. I couldn’t stop staring at him. I couldn’t wait to see what was under the sweater, beneath the dark jeans. “I feel like I’m at a slight advantage. I knew what you looked like.”

  My fingers played with the end of my braid. “That’s what this meeting is for, so I can determine if this is going to work.”

  His eyes were dark when he asked, “And?”

  I smiled. “I’m feeling confident tonight.”

  He licked his lips and it was so sexy—so primal— that I took another sip of my martini to keep from fanning my face.

  “I’m glad you were willing to work with my schedule,” he said, touching my hand when I brought the glass down.

  It wasn’t a line, and I hadn’t meant to lower my voice with its delivery when I said, “I’m quite flexible.” But he smiled nonetheless, a kind of big bad wolf smile as his lips spread. His beard was thick, but not so much that I couldn’t make out the sculpted jaw underneath. I swallowed hard, feeling my pulse race a little. There was heat and more than a little danger in that grin. I was little red riding hood and he was out for me. He pressed his forefinger against the back of my hand, and I felt a shiver up my arm from the contact.

  The air around us was electric as I pushed the drink away from myself, indicating to us both that I was ready. But before we left our seats, Elias reached behind his back and revealed an envelope. I blinked at it several times as my brain fired off little reminders to pay attention under the cloud of lust that was coating us both in a heavy fog.

  “Oh,” I said, breathy and very, very warm. “You just leave that in the bathroom once we’re in the room.”

  “Are you sure?” I looked down at his hands, his very large, very masculine hands, and because I wanted to, I reached down and touched them. This put my own hands inches from his crotch, a fact that made me stutter a little.

  “Ye—yes, please. Just leave the donation in the bathroom.”

  “Donation.” His mouth curved just enough to make me feel warm all over. This was the first time, in recent memory, th
at a client had made me this excited. But that’s who he was, I reminded myself as he helped me down from the bar stool.

  I had to remind myself again as he led me to the elevator, with the tips of his fingers on the small of my back. He was a client.

  When he opened the door to our room for the night, or the hours we’d agreed on, rather, I looked him in the eyes and reminded myself that he was a client.

  He was still a client when his fingers slid down my arm like he was gliding across piano keys, before his hand wrapped around mine and he pulled me, all too willingly, into the room. The door closed quietly behind me and he stepped forward, so that I was backed up against it.

  As his mouth descended and his breath warmed my face, my insides shivered and I once again reminded myself he was a client.

  And I was his escort, paid to give him a thorough fuck.

  Chapter Two

  Right before my lips hit hers, I stopped. Just to see what she’d do. To see if I could. Because fucking hell, Ruby was so goddamn sexy that it was almost obscene. The fact that she was being handsomely compensated to look at me as if she wanted to go at my dick like it was covered in chocolate didn’t even matter, because I could already tell she was worth every penny. The sleek lines of her black dress couldn’t conceal the luscious swell of her tits or the tight, long curve of her waist. Her lips, holy hell, her lips. They were indecent. Oh, the things I’d do to them before she left the room.

  So when she let out a soft huff of air through her nose—the smallest level of frustration that she could have possibly shown—I grinned.

  “When you smile like that, like you did at the bar,” she said, her impossibly dark eyes trained on my lips, “you remind me of the big bad wolf.”

  My smile dropped and I braced my hands on the door on either side of her face. Her lips pursed when I still didn’t kiss her. Using the tip of my nose at the edge of her jaw, I pushed so that she tilted her neck to the side. She smelled like spice and sin. Then I whispered into her ear.