Craving You

by Calista Fox

  “You were right about how good we’d be together.”

  “Even hotter than I’d thought.”

  “Yes,” she breathed. “Tague…yes!”

  Again, he felt her shatter all around him.

  His release was imminent. He let go and exploded deep in her pussy, coming so hard he lost cogent thought for several suspended seconds. His heart hammered in his chest, his pulse pounded in his head. He filled her with his hot seed, the climax echoing throughout his body.

  And yet he was still in need of her.

  “Loralai. Baby.” He held her in a firm embrace.

  She wriggled against him, still riding his cock. A ripple along her spine, a soft gasp, followed by a small cry told him she’d just come again.

  Despite the tension that would not be sated, he grinned. Pleased he’d given her exactly what she’d wanted.

  23

  L.L. raised her head and stared at Tague.

  “Feeling pretty damn impressed with yourself?” she asked, euphoria rushing through her veins, every inch of her still ablaze.

  “You seem to have enjoyed yourself.”

  She smirked flirtatiously. “And you didn’t?”

  His grin faded, to be replaced with a more serious expression. “What I experienced, baby, was too fucking amazing for words.”

  Emotion suddenly stung the backs of her eyes at his blatant honesty. The intensity behind his words. “Tague.”

  “Loralai,” he countered. “I knew from that night in the club that what’s happening between us isn’t like anything else I’ve had before. It’s different because you’re different. We’re different.”

  She swallowed hard. Nodded.

  Tague said, “I want you to remember that this evening. No matter what the hell happens, you have to know that I’m my own person, not someone who can be controlled or influenced by my parents.”

  Dread encroached on her elation. She said, “Maybe I shouldn’t go into the Waldorf.”

  “You’re absolutely going.” He lifted one strap on her dress and slid it up her arm, then the other, moving the bodice into place. His arms encircled her waist and his fingertips grazed her bare back. Up to her neck. Down to her tailbone. As though he simply couldn’t resist touching her.

  Continuing, he said, “The class difference will mean something to them. They’ll think all you’re interested in is my money and status.”

  “Those are the last things I’m interested in,” she assured him.

  “I know that. And again, we don’t care about the stance they take. Especially since…” He drew in a long breath, let it out slowly. Ground his teeth.

  “Especially since, what?” she prompted.

  He stopped the sensual caressing of her back and instead tenderly cupped her face.

  Staring into her eyes, he said, “I never would have guessed on Monday morning when Chip asked me to meet you that I’d not only be instantly attracted to you, but that I’d be emotionally invested as well. So damn fast. So solidly. This entire week has been unexpected, and yet… I’m absolutely crazy about you, Loralai. So fucking crazy about you.”

  Her heart fluttered. “That’s just the orgasm talking,” she tried to tease.

  Tague said, “It’s not about the sex, Loralai. We click. We spark. We…smolder. In every way, not just physically, but intimately. I feel it.”

  Fear crept around the fringes, as it had when she’d been talking with Jace; as it had that night in the club after Tague had delivered a powerful climax that had felt so much like possession.

  She pulled in a long breath. Let it out slowly, keeping the anxiety at bay. Then she took an enormous leap of faith and said, “I feel it too, Tague.”

  “Then here’s the deal. You’re going to stick close to me tonight, and I’m going to deflect as much as I can, and anything that slips through the cracks, you’re going to let roll off your back. Promise me?”

  He was damn serious about protecting her from his parents.

  She realized it was an inevitability that she meet them, despite her once telling him she didn’t believe anything was inevitable. But they were a part of his life and a part of his career. It was Tague’s name as much as his father’s that comprised the prominent firm. A business that was Tague’s legacy. So, of course, any woman in his life would have to be subjected to his family.

  A hint of nerves made her say, “They can’t know what I do for a living, Tague. You’ll have to deflect emphatically when it comes to those kinds of questions.”

  “No,” he said without hesitation. “It’s okay, baby. What you do for a living doesn’t bother me in the least. You need to believe in that. You need to believe in me. And you need to understand and accept that I’ll defend your profession to the death. A lot of the attorneys at the firm already know you and know your business. No one has anything derogatory to say about it, I swear. And if my parents do, then you can trust me to make sure they won’t tear you down. Please believe in me.”

  Her hand covered one of his, still framing her face. Tears pooled in her eyes. “I must have done some pretty incredible shit in my past lives to deserve this. To have my own knight in shining armor.”

  “Baby, I’m no Prince Charming,” he told her. “But I do stand up for what I want and what I believe in. At the end of the day, I’ve found that my parents respect me more for that, but it’s one hellacious challenge getting there when I step off their beaten path. Which is pretty much all the goddamn time.” He chuckled softly, no doubt to break the tension.

  L.L. smiled sweetly at him. “You’re better than Prince Charming.”

  Her head dipped and she kissed him. Passionately. Heatedly. Felt him swell inside her.

  They began moving together again, quickly finding the groove they’d previously established, knowing each other intimately now.

  L.L. rose slightly on her knees and Tague pumped into her, sending her soaring.

  She broke their kiss and gasped for air. He kept at it and L.L. could not fathom on a reasonable level how fabulous he felt.

  They didn’t last long this time, each needing to share that fevered release to bond them further.

  “I’m going to come,” she whispered in his ear.

  “Yes. Now. With me.”

  All of the erotic and emotional sensations burst wide open inside her. She held him in a vise grip and Tague erupted, calling her name.

  She knew they played a high-stakes game. She knew his family standing and her heart were at risk.

  But she hoped what they shared was worth weathering any storm.

  Because it was entirely possible L.L. had just fallen in love.

  24

  They stepped out of the limo to the flashing of cameras. L.L. had not anticipated that. Nor had she realized it’d started to snow. Hard. She’d been too wrapped up in Tague.

  They’d tidied up in the backseat and she’d applied a fresh coat of lip gloss and slipped into her coat, as Tague had done with his. Now they made their way into the hotel and she was shocked by the conglomeration of media.

  “The paparazzi follow you?” she asked.

  “Society pages. My parents, the Hoffmans and the Steins fill them. I do, too, when I’m in town.”

  “I always skip those pages. Sorry.”

  He chuckled. “No worries. But since I’ve been away, I suspect I’ll get a bit more coverage this evening.”

  Sure enough, a lovely brunette equipped with three cameras approached them with a smile on her face. “Tague, so nice to see you. Welcome home.”

  “Thanks, Shanna,” he politely said.

  “You look as handsome as ever,” she told him. Somewhat suggestively. Then her attention shifted to L.L. “May I ask who your date is?”

  “This is Loralai Branson,” he announced for all those with press passes to hear.

  “Can we see the dress?” Shanna asked her.

  L.L. spared a quick glance at Tague. He gave a nod. Then helped her out of the coat. Hotel staff swooped in to ta
ke the fur from him, as well as his overcoat and scarf.

  The photographers moved in and snapped dozens of photos of L.L.’s dress from every angle.

  “Wonderful,” Shanna said. “That dress will leave jaws dropping when we run the pictures this weekend. Thanks so much to both of you.” She gave Tague another smile. L.L. surmised the other woman had a crush on Tague—and couldn’t blame her for it. Shanna said to L.L., “It really is a sensational gown. You’re stunning in it.”

  “Thank you.”

  Tague placed a hand at the small of her back and guided her to the Empire Room.

  Despite the fact that she did, indeed, know a number of attorneys at the firm, that she was aware of, no one other than Chip knew she was Tague’s date for the evening. So apprehension had her stomach twisting into a pretzel and her heart beating a bit too fast.

  “Relax, baby,” he murmured.

  Apparently, her body had gone rigid.

  “I feel like shark bait,” she confessed.

  “I told you I’d take care of it—and you. I don’t hide things, Loralai. I keep everything out in the open.” His dark-blue eyes turned nearly black as he added, “Which reminds me, I get so distracted by you that I keep forgetting the discussion we need to have about—”

  “Tague.” A silver-haired man with a well-coiffed blond on his arm greeted them as they moved through the entrance into the stylishly gold- and blue-decorated Empire Room. The chandeliers glowed with warm light, casting glittery rays. A hundred or so people filled the space, sipping champagne and enjoying the passed hors d’oeuvres and appetizer stations.

  “Malcom, Grace. So good to see you.” Tague shook the older gentleman’s hand and kissed the blond on the cheek. “I hope Katie’s doing well after giving you a third grandchild.”

  “She’s fully recovered from the C-section, but not getting a lot of sleep with this one,” Malcom said. “Grace and I warned her that she got off easy with the first two. They slept through the night without fail. Now she’s hit pretty hard with reality.” He laughed. “But so happy.”

  “I’m sure,” Tague said. Then added, “I’d like to introduce you to Loralai Branson. Loralai, please meet Malcolm and Grace Hoffman. Malcom’s great-grandfather was the first partner to come onboard when the firm was established over eighty years ago.”

  “It’s a pleasure,” L.L. said.

  “That gown is beautiful,” Grace told her. “If I still had a figure like that…” She sighed wistfully.

  “You’re gorgeous,” L.L. assured her. And meant it.

  “Well.” Grace beamed up at her husband. “Don’t I keep telling you that, darling?”

  He laughed again. “No. I keep telling you that, darling.”

  L.L. found them absolutely charming, and envied how loving they were, how unencumbered by drama and dark clouds hovering too close to the horizon.

  They all chatted some more, then the Hoffmans continued to greet the others. Tague snagged a glass of champagne from a silver tray held by a server. He handed it to L.L. and she sipped.

  “Very nice.” She nodded with approval. And felt a flicker of excitement along her clit over the tasty bubbly and the pearls. More so over Tague, in general. She gazed up at him and said, “This is all very lovely. Your event planners go all out.” There were bouquets of white roses everywhere, shimmery gold accents, a dance floor laid out, and the food was to die for as L.L. sampled practically everything that came her way.

  They wound through the crowd, Tague making sure she knew everyone.

  All of the conversations were pleasant and it was quite clear to L.L. that Tague was revered by his colleagues. They told a few stories of him pulling crash-and-burn cases from the flames, and Tague congenially relayed his side, a hint of pride showing through, sure, but he gave credit to his associates where due. Traits L.L. admired. She liked the fact that he was strong, confident and successful. But he also had a clear appreciation for his coworkers.

  As they moved deeper into the throng, they came upon Chip and Helena. She looked striking in a liquid gold dress and L.L. gushed over her.

  “So your color,” she said. “You’re breathtaking.”

  Helena gave her a careful hug while the men engaged in conversation. “Same to you,” she said. “And it’s so good to see a familiar face. This is a little overwhelming.” Her delicate Swedish accent buffered the apparent anxiety she suffered.

  L.L. told her, “Be glad that you’re not meeting Chip’s parents this evening—and on their territory.”

  “Oh, gads. I forgot. Tague is Harper Mason’s son.”

  “Indeed.”

  “Have you run into them yet?”

  “No.” L.L. sipped some more, steeling herself. “But I’m mere minutes away, I’m sure.”

  “Well, I don’t envy you, I’m sorry to say. From what Chip has caustically imparted here and there, Harper Mason rules with an iron fist and wants things the way he wants them.”

  “Tague warned me. I won’t make the cut with his parents, but…” She shrugged. “Tague does not strike me as the type of man who lets anyone rule him.”

  “One look at him, and I’m inclined to agree.”

  “And things are going well with you and Chip?” L.L. wagged her brows.

  “He’s positively dreamy. There is something about him that I am so grateful other women have not latched onto. They appreciate his trustworthiness and even temperament, but they have no idea of the passion simmering below the surface.” Helena’s gaze swept over Chip and she smiled. “I’d like to keep that all to myself.” Returning her attention to L.L., she winked conspiratorially.

  L.L. laughed softly. “Your secret is safe with me. And let me say, Chip is equally smitten.”

  “I hope so. I’ve wanted to believe that was why he brought me here tonight.”

  “That’d be my guess. I think he’s interested in a hell of lot more with you than this sexy foot fetish he’s suddenly devel—”

  “Good evening,” a refined, cultured feminine voice cut in.

  L.L.’s heart launched into her throat. She shot a look over her shoulder. The woman who’d all but snuck up on them was perfection personified—and every fiber of her being told L.L. this was Tague’s mother.

  Oh. My. God.

  25

  She had meticulously styled pale-blond hair—a chic and refined bob not everyone could pull off without the correct bone structure. Just the right makeup to enhance all her aristocratic features, complete with cornflower blue eyes, a slim nose and high cheekbones. Her lips were painted a soft peach. Her dress was a shimmering, satin sapphire. Long-sleeved, wrapped at the waist with a large diamond-encrusted brooch.

  “Mother.” Tague stepped away from Chip.

  L.L. cringed inwardly.

  Oh, Jesus.

  Why’d every fiber of her being have to be right?

  And…holy hell. How much of her conversation with Helena had Mrs. Mason overheard?

  “Son,” his mother said as she offered her hand and Tague kissed it lightly on the top.

  A very distinguished looking man in his mid-fifties approached, using a sleek black cane with a gold-accented handle. His appearance held enough of Tague’s dark hair and coloring for L.L. to presume he was Harper Mason.

  He shook his father’s hand, then turned to L.L. “I’d like you both to meet my date, Loralai Branson.”

  L.L. had to do the dainty handshake thing with Mrs. Mason that always felt pretentious.

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” L.L. said.

  “Charmed, I’m sure,” Tague’s mother replied in a smug tone as she unabashedly took L.L. in from head to toe.

  L.L. did everything in her power to keep from fidgeting under the scrutiny, including turning to Harper Mason and shaking his hand. She didn’t miss the fact that he was a strong presence viscerally, but not physically.

  Tague’s words about how difficult it had been for him to see his father weakened by his illness flitted through her mind. But then Mr
. Mason demonstrated the other facet of his personality that had rubbed Tague wrong.

  “We didn’t know you were a plus one this evening, son,” the older Mason said. “Your mother invited Brianna to fill the seat next to you.”

  Tague didn’t even flinch. He told his parents, “I informed my assistant on Monday morning that Miss Branson would be joining me. I’m sure the seating arrangements have been appropriately handled.”

  His parents exchanged a look. And it suddenly felt as though all the air had been sucked out of the room.

  Though Tague didn’t seem to notice. Or perhaps he was just used to the razor-vibe these two people so easily incited.

  He added, “Brianna will be very happy to sit with another junior partner, I’m sure. Now, if you’ll both excuse us…” He flashed L.L. a grin and said, “We need a fresh glass of champagne.”

  They moved away.

  L.L. waited until they were out of earshot to tell him, “Your mother might have overheard some of my conversation with Helena. We were talking about Chip and—”

  “Loralai,” he interjected. “Chip made the choice to bring Helena. Don’t carry every burden on those beautiful shoulders, baby.” He lifted another crystal flute from a passing tray and handed it over. “Deep breath. Deep sip. Be calm. Enjoy.”

  She gazed up at him. “How is it so easy for you to say that? You can’t honestly tell me that your parents’ perspective doesn’t impact your position within the family—and the firm.”

  “It does and it doesn’t,” he admitted. “Yes, my father would like to keep me under his thumb as a matter of principle and arrogance. My mother wishes for it as well, all related to her social standing. But above all else, the success of the firm matters most. As long I’m winning top-dollar cases, they stay out of my personal affairs.”

  “Hmm. Are you sure?” L.L. challenged. She took a drink, then laid two thoughts on the table. “First, who’s Brianna? And second, is money really everything to your family?”

  Tague grimaced. “Not exactly simple answers to give. Brianna Carlisle is a family friend. I’ve known her since I was six. We went to the same prep school. She didn’t make it into Harvard, and went to Stanford instead. She’s very smart and very pretty. But I never actually dated her, though we were thrown together for every social engagement. Did Brianna buy into the we belong together theory because of this? Yes. Did I? No.”