Yours to Savor

by Scarlett Edwards

  Brandon was friends with all the high-ranking city officials. He’d known some of them for nearly a decade. Charming them at dinners, clubs, and exclusive celebrity events was what he did best.

  In return, they left his network alone and focused on the less sophisticated dealers on the streets. Those were the ones who caused problems: the ones caught up in gangs and guns and violence. They dealt shit crack to junkies, lacing the drugs with detergents and other chemicals to drive their profits up. Those were the transactions that resulted in disputes; those were the transactions that could cause a scene; those were the operations that politicians and law enforcement were happy to concentrate on.

  Brandon’s network, on the other hand, ruffled no feathers. He and his business partner had designed it from the start to make it so. They focused on the needs of rich clientele: actors, movie stars, playboy millionaires, and whoever else had enough money to value discretion about their drug use above all. Bankers and plastic surgeons, Fortune 500 board members and professional athletes—all turned to his network to satisfy their needs.

  He stepped out of the car, consulted his reflection in the window, and straightened his suit. Satisfied, he leaned in to grab an aluminum suitcase from the passenger seat. He strode toward the entrance of the building while lowering his Tag Heuer sunglasses over his eyes.

  What would surprise most people, Brandon imagined, was just how flawed the entire drug enforcement system was. He opened the door to the building, and nodded to a security guard who punched in a code to let Brandon walk through the metal detector without tripping the alarm. Brandon smiled. Corruption seeped its way from the high to the low.

  Brandon passed some familiar faces in the lobby, and smiled at each one. All the high-level government officials were in on drugs. You couldn’t be around it for so long and not be tempted, no matter how strong your original morals were. Some resisted, of course, but they quickly found themselves on the outside looking in. Even the ground troops, the law enforcement agents conducting small-time seizures at traffic stops and raves, wouldn’t object to a colleague “destroying” some evidence by using it himself.

  Brandon chuckled as he waited for the elevator. What did it matter to them as long as the substance was off the street? It satisfied their superiors and satisfied the public.

  In fact, the only two people Brandon knew involved in this line of work who didn’t partake were his business partner and himself. Their abstinence, however, stemmed from different reasons.

  His business partner did not want to be tempted by their network’s inventory. Inventory brought money, and an impartial mind was needed to distribute it in ways to maximize profits.

  For Brandon, things were much different. He vowed never to use drugs after someone he’d dealt to had died.

  It had happened long ago, many years before he’d even met his business partner. He was still in high school. He’d been at a party, and a younger girl had come up to him after learning he had a “source.” He’d sold to her without hesitation. He’d just been getting started, and was thrilled to have made his first-ever real sale.

  After she’d died from an overdose that same night, Brandon understood the consequences of his actions. He’d never been able to forgive himself for her death, but he’d made peace with it to some degree by developing a strict set of morals that had guided him ever since. He vowed never to sell to anybody younger than he was. He vowed never to involve anybody younger in his network. And he vowed that the only people he would sell to—the only ones—were those sharp enough to understand the difference between an indulgent habit and an addiction.

  That was why it was important for him to be on the ground in Ocean Shores as soon as he was done in Seattle. Even if Brandon didn’t know the kid Mark was worried about, Brandon would not have him throw his life away in a vain attempt to make a bit of cash. As soon as he showed up on their radar, Brandon felt personally responsible. That was why Brandon had to find him, straighten his head, and make sure the kid never involved himself with drugs again.

  And that would be his final job before turning over control of the network to his business partner. He could go back to Chicago, see his family, and move on to ventures on the right side of the law. Real estate interested him next. He had more than enough capital available to make a splash in that world.

  All I need now is the right woman beside me.

  The elevator arrived at the highest floor, and Brandon stepped off. Just at that moment, his phone buzzed. He glanced down to find a message form Sandra. Speak of the devil…

  He opened the message:

  Meet me at the hotel bar tonight.

  Reservations are at eight.

  Brandon smirked. She’d copied the wording from the card he’d sent.

  He glanced at his watch, and saw that he had a few hours left.

  They promised to be the longest hours of his life.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Time dragged by at a snail’s pace as Brandon wrapped up his meetings for the day. Every few minutes he found himself glancing at his watch, willing the hour hand to move faster. He couldn’t get Sandra’s mysterious message out of his mind.

  When he walked into the hotel lobby at eight, his heart was pounding in anticipation. He turned toward the hotel bar, and stopped.

  He saw her immediately.

  Sandra was turned away from him. She was sitting in a decadent, low cut blue dress that exposed much of her elegant shoulders and back. He was dazzled by the beauty of her pale, smooth skin, by the delicate structure of her body.

  He didn’t know how he’d given himself away, but somehow, mere moments after he’d spotted her, Sandra tossed her head and looked right at him.

  Time ground to a halt. The gaze she directed at him was raw, unadulterated hunger. A smoky haze filled the sides of his vision; all he could focus on was her. A slow, sensual smile graced Sandra’s lips. He stared at her, transfixed. She pivoted on the stool so that her body faced his.

  Very slowly, and very deliberately, she repositioned her legs, crossing them over each other, silky smooth skin gliding against silky smooth skin.

  Brandon exhaled heavily. Did she know what that type of display did to a man? An older gentleman passing by gave him a strange look, but Brandon didn’t pay any attention. His eyes were on Sandra.

  She traced a finger around her lips. Her mouth parted slightly, and the finger dipped inside. She leaned back against the bar, arching her back to expose her neck and chest, and slowly slid the finger down her body.

  Brandon was about to lose control.

  She stopped just short of her breasts, allowing her hand to linger there a moment. Then she closed her eyes and leaned even further back, taking a deep breath that heaved her breasts up. In a flash her head snapped back up. Brandon realized that she held her keycard in one hand.

  She reached out, letting the card dangle from her fingertips. And ever-so-casually let it fall to the floor. Her brows rose in faux-surprise, and she seemed to mouth, Oops, as she pursed her lips.

  No way in hell, Brandon thought. If she—Oh, God.

  Sandra leaned forward for the card, reaching down in a graceful motion to expose her cleavage completely for him. His eyes went to the magnificent swell of her breasts, to the spidery silk black lingerie peeking out from beneath the dress. Had she worn that last night? No. This was something new.

  God, watching her like that was like a private show. Brandon dared to take his eyes off her for a second to look for anyone else enjoying the view. Luckily, the hotel was nearly empty.

  Lucky, because he was growing hard just looking at her.

  She retrieved the card, slowly trailed it along one calve, up her thigh, and over the skin-tight fabric of her blue dress. Then she reached down and placed it in her bra. Suddenly she giggled, breaking the spell for a second—and then resumed the seductress air.

  There was too little blood left in Brandon’s head to think.

  The moment lasted only seconds, but
to him it felt like hours. The walk toward Sandra was the longest he’d ever made. He strode to her, barely managing to hide the growing bulge in his pants.

  Her eyes were locked with his as he moved. Those eyes… they looked ready. It was the first time he’d seen her like this. There were no secrets there, tonight.

  This night was all about her.

  The smell of her perfume hit him, causing him to stagger like a drunk. He knew it was hers through all the smells of the bar, because he knew her scent beneath it. He took a deliberate, slow breath to savor the smell.

  Blood simmering, every step bringing it closer to a boil, he narrowed the final torturous gap between them.

  “Hello,” he tried to say. His brain wasn’t functioning well enough for him to know how he did. He had the vague impression that the word came out as a growl.

  “Hello, stranger.” It was a low, sultry voice that left Sandra’s lips. Oh yes, Brandon thought, she’d practiced.

  From up close, Brandon noted the beauty of her bright red lips, her long lashes, her pale silver eyes. He was blown away by her natural splendor, by how little makeup she actually wore. It was nothing at all compared to the girls he usually associated with. She didn’t need any of that.

  “Sandra—”

  “Hush.” She placed a finger on his lips. “Don’t say a word. Tonight, you’re all mine.”

  He could feel his pulse quickening, could feel the press of his jeans against his growing erection. Sandra didn’t miss it either.

  “I must be doing something right,” she murmured to herself, sounding impressed. Then, without warning, she grabbed the front of his shirt and yanked him in for the most exciting kiss of his life.

  She offered no resistance when their lips met. Unlike the other times he’d kissed her, she was the one initiating; she was the one taking control. Sandra’s other hand slid around his neck and she moaned against his mouth as his tongue pressed down to ravage hers. Those plump, full lips were searing fire in his mouth, and the smell of her beneath the light sprinkling of perfume made his heart pound like a wolf that’d caught the scent of its quarry.

  The way she brought him in, the hungry way that her hand tore at his hair told him Sandra was willing to be more than kissed tonight. She was ready for him, and—God help him—he was helpless to resist.

  One of his hands found her outer thigh, the warm flesh searing under his touch, and he couldn’t stop himself from gripping her tight. But he didn’t need to stop tonight. He was certain Sandra already knew she was worth more to him than a one-night stand.

  Hell, this was the longest he’d desired a woman and not fucked her.

  His hand clamped on her knee, slid up the outside of her warm, smooth thigh, graced over her full hip and stopped in the curve of her lower back. He held her, pulling her toward him as he continued to explore her mouth with his. And fuck, did her body feel good beneath that lace-thin dress!

  He was on the verge of lifting her onto the bar and fucking her right there, and to hell with social norms and decorum.

  That was when she broke away.

  She looked at him in a daze, both vulnerable and triumphant.

  But surely, she wasn’t as dazed as Brandon felt.

  Suddenly she giggled again, almost like a little girl. Her cheeks were flustered from the powerful kiss. Her red lips appeared larger than before to his primal brain.

  The next thing he knew, she was leading him away from the bar, through the lobby, and into the elevator. The entire walk was a blur. All he knew was her. All he could focus on was her.

  They got in the elevator, and as soon as the doors closed, he pounced. He pushed her into the corner, and she gasped as her skin hit the cool metal mirror behind her. But she pulled him in right away, arching her back and opening her mouth for him to lay waste to. Their lips met again, and this time Brandon showed no restraint. His hands travelled up the sides of her body, pressing against her firm, smooth waist, and finally—finally!—found her breasts. She gasped into his mouth as his thumbs came upon her tight nipples, and he was acting on pure instinct as he let one hand trail down her body toward the growing heat between her legs.

  The elevator dinged to announce their arrival on the eleventh floor.

  Sandra pushed him off immediately, adjusted her hair. She gave a knowing smile before strutting down the hallway by herself.

  Brandon watched from the back of the elevator, mesmerized by the sway of her hips, by the clip-clop of her heels, by the gracious curve of her back and calves. When she realized he wasn’t following, she stopped and whipped her head back, cocking her hip to the side to rest one fist on it.

  Then she sent him the clearest invitation of his life by raising one eyebrow slightly.

  She was all sensual femininity. He all but ran out of the elevator to reach her.

  “You’re not going anywhere tonight,” she told him firmly by her door. “You’re not leaving me on the doorstep again.”

  “I wouldn’t dream of it,” he promised.

  “Good.” She retrieved the keycard from inside her bra and slid it through the lock. “I have everything set up for you.”

  “Everything?” he started to ask, but stopped as the door came open. Music flowed from within. It was a dreamy kind of song, low and sultry and perfect for seduction. Something he would have picked for her if he’d had the chance.

  “Everything,” Sandra repeated, walking in.

  Brandon followed. The lights were off in the long hallway, but he could see flickering shadows cast against the wall at the very end. Sandra led him there. He discovered that she had laid out an array of candles along the sides of the room, over the windowsills, across the dining table. He could smell their light, wispy aroma. The lights of the city shone through the windows, but somehow did not overtake the dancing flames.

  “What do you think?” She had her hands clasped behind her back, and was teeming with barely-suppressed excitement. Hell, she even did a twirl as his eyes found the table, set with dishes of food. “I cooked,” she explained. “For us. And I have the music picked out, and the candles. I didn’t know what you liked, so I made a little of everything. I haven’t cooked in a long time, but I still remember how to do it, and then I went out today to prepare everything, and…”

  She was babbling. Brandon could tell. Somehow, after that whole display in the bar below, this precious, sensual woman was babbling, which meant she was nervous. She’d set all of this up for him, with clear knowledge of where it would lead… yet she was still nervous. She’d worn that man-killer outfit down below, conducted that obliterating display at the bar, kissed him shamelessly in public, but now that they were alone, she was nervous.

  It was an excellent sign.

  It was excellent because it meant he’d had an effect on her beyond raw physical desire. It meant, he hoped, that she was starting to carve out room for him in her heart.

  “I don’t want everything,” he said gently, cutting her off. “I only want you.”

  She blinked, surprise flashing on her face. Then she leaned her head to the side and regarded him with all the grace she’d shown downstairs. “Is that so?”

  “Did you cook in that dress?”

  “No.” She stepped toward him. She brought a hand to her back, and Brandon heard the slide of a zipper. The next thing he knew, the dress was a pile of blue fabric on the floor. “I cooked for you in my lingerie.”

  He staggered at seeing her like that, at hearing those words. He had to catch his balance against the wall.

  His eyes soaked Sandra in. He’d been teased by her body before, had spent many hours imagining just what her curves and beautiful, soft skin would look like. But seeing her in person in front of him, as a living, breathing, willing woman, was like nothing his imagination could have ever conjured.

  It wasn’t even fair. Her long legs curved lusciously where they met her hips, before her body contracted perfectly into a tight belly and narrow waist. Then her shape flared out in the deli
cious swell of her breasts, pressed against her chest by the tight bra. Her hair fell past her shoulders, framing a face even more beautiful in the shadows, and those enticing dark roots blended so well with the smooth, luxurious, beach-blonde strands.

  She was a real woman, not one embellished by surgery and operations.

  Her skin was perfect, too. How he longed to trail his tongue over it. Some of the women he’d been with looked good while fully clothed, but when the clothes came off the illusion ended. Then it would be a disaster of old tattoos and unsightly scars from a troubled past.

  Sandra was nothing like that. She was pure. Unadulterated. Unspoiled. And she was here for him.

  The silky black lingerie gave rise to breasts that were perfect by every standard. Brandon hardly noticed the candles in the background, the soft hum of the music, or the smells of the food. They were all nice touches—but they were all distractions. He didn’t want everything.

  He wanted her.

  By the way her chest heaved in quick, successive breaths, he knew she wanted him, too.

  Sandra gasped as Brandon’s body slammed into hers. The feel of his roughened clothes scratching against her bare skin heightened her arousal. His mouth met hers, and she leapt up to wrap her legs around his waist. She could feel the bulge in his pants.

  Brandon had barely paid attention to what she’d prepared. She’d wanted to create the perfect atmosphere for tonight’s seduction, but when she saw him in the lobby that night, desire for her clear in his eyes, she knew he wasn’t going to leave her wanting again.

  Not that it hurt to prepare, though.

  That thought was fleeting as Brandon carried her to the bedroom. All conscious thought disappeared when her back hit the firm mattress. Brandon’s lips trailed down her neck, over the space between her breasts. She moaned in pleasure as his hands moved over her chest, lingering for a moment on her tight nipples. And then his tongue found her bellybutton, circling it lightly in preparation of what was to come. She gasped in anticipation.