Yours to Savor

by Scarlett Edwards

  Before he could go any lower, though, she tugged him up, and his mouth found hers again. She wanted to see him, to touch him before he could do the same to her. She flipped them over and straddled him on the bed.

  The buttons on his shirt were a problem. Her fingers didn’t seem to remember how to work properly. Desire soaked her brain in promise of unfathomable pleasure. Brandon let his hands fall to the sides and watched her work her way down his shirt.

  She was already trembling in anticipation.

  One by one, the buttons came undone. Sandra pulled his shirt open. And had to stop.

  “Oh, wow,” she murmured.

  He moved to kiss her again, but she held him down.

  “Let a girl enjoy the view, first.”

  She put her hands on his strong chest, lightly grazed with hair, and moved down to trace the outline of his abdominals. She’d seen him shirtless before, that first time they’d met, but never had she had a chance to just savor his beauty before. She rubbed her hands over his stomach almost reverently, sucking in a staggering breath. His muscles rippled as he lay under her.

  Suddenly his hand grabbed her neck and brought her to him again. She found the wild passion of his mouth exhilarating. Her hands were all over his upper body, reaching, grabbing, exploring his skin without the barrier of clothes. And his were all over her, as well.

  She ran her hands along his back as he kissed her, and he stroked her legs, her lower back, her neck. He grabbed a handful of hair near the nape of her long her neck and pulled back firmly, causing her to arch her head back and moan with pleasure.

  That was when his phone rang.

  She felt the vibration against her leg from his pants pocket. Brandon tensed, but ignored it, continuing to kiss her.

  The ringing only got louder.

  Sandra stopped, lifting her mouth from his.

  “Should you get that?”

  “No,” Brandon scowled, and pulled her back down. The ringing died, and Sandra lost herself in Brandon’s passion again.

  Not two seconds later, it started up again. Sandra stopped. The sound was very distracting.

  Brandon growled beneath her and shifted to reach into his pocket. Then, instead of answering, he threw the phone against the wall with a roar. The ringing stopped.

  The act surprised Sandra, but she was too caught up in her lust to really consider it. Her mouth clasped back over Brandon’s, exploring, searching, tasting.

  That was when the ringing started from his other pocket.

  Sandra stopped, and pulled away, looking down at him in confusion. “What is that?”

  “I have two,” Brandon muttered. “Very few people know the second number. If they’re calling, it’s important.”

  “Oh,” Sandra said stiffly.

  “I hate myself for doing this,” he grumbled.

  “No, no, go ahead.” Sandra slid off him. “If it’s important, you should take it.”

  Brandon closed his eyes. “I can’t believe this is happening.”

  “Really. If someone’s calling you and it’s important, you need to take it. I won’t be going anywhere.”

  Brandon sighed and rolled off the bed. “I’ll be back,” he promised her, and walked out of the room shirtless, bringing the phone to his ear.

  “Clarisse.” Brandon hissed as he paced the hallway outside Sandra’s suite. “You know I’m with Sandra. What do you want?”

  He heard a tsk from the other line. “You know I wouldn’t be calling you if it wasn’t important.”

  Brandon sighed, and took a deep breath to steady his irritation. “I know. What is it?”

  “It’s Mark.”

  Brandon froze. Mark was something of a loose cannon.

  “What about Mark?”

  “He got the name of the kid you’re looking for. And his picture.”

  Shit. “How?”

  “It doesn’t matter how. He told me he got it tonight. And he’s not happy with how lenient you’ve been with the kid.”

  “I haven’t even seen him yet!”

  “I know. Mark, however, is impatient. I’m afraid he’s about to take matters into his own hands.”

  “Fuck.”

  “That’s what I thought you’d say. You need to go calm Mark down, Brandon.”

  Brandon exhaled. “When?” He knew the answer before he even asked the question.

  “Tonight.” The word was like a punch to the gut.

  “Alright. I’ll deal with it.”

  “See that you do, Brandon. You know how important it is for us to avoid scrutiny. If Mark does something rash because of his temper, well, a lot of what you and I have worked to achieve for so many years will go to waste. You might be moving on soon, but that doesn’t mean I won’t need the proceeds from our network.”

  “I know, Clarisse. I know.” It was crucial that their network remain completely inconspicuous. There could never be any discord amongst their distributors and associates. Discord led to stupidity, which led to violence, which led to kidnapping and murders and a plethora of other idiotic things that could jeopardize the business. Staying clean meant staying on the good side of the law. It was the only way politicians and federal officials could afford to turn a blind eye… with the proper bribes, of course. “I’ll take care of it,” Brandon promised.

  “See that you do. I am sorry for interrupting things between you and Sandra, but this couldn’t wait.”

  “I know. It’s just—never mind. I’ll deal with it.”

  “You always do.”

  When Brandon came back into the room, Sandra could tell something was wrong. He walked in stiffly. There was a distant look in his eyes.

  When he moved for his shirt and not for her, Sandra’s worst fear was confirmed. “You have to go, don’t you?”

  “Yes.” He picked up the shirt and threw it on. “I don’t think I can return tonight.” He started buttoning the shirt. He avoided meeting her eyes.

  “I figured.” She felt dangerously exposed, and reached for the blanket to cover up her nearly naked body.

  “It’s not… your fault.” Brandon’s words were clipped. “I can’t tell you how much it pains me to leave you.”

  “I’m sure your business is very important.”

  “It’s not that—”

  “Then what? You don’t want me?”

  “Sandra.” He turned and looked at her. His green eyes seared into her soul. “I want you unlike I’ve wanted any woman before.”

  “Then why leave again? Why walk away? You say you want me, Brandon, but you don’t act on it!”

  He flexed his fists in obvious frustration. “You’re not… like others. Have I told you how many proper dates I’ve gone on before meeting you?” He held up his index and middle finger. “Two. Two full dates. And with you, I’ve already doubled my count.” He sat on the edge of the bed. Sandra curled away from him so he couldn’t see her disappointment. “Not because I couldn’t, or because I didn’t have the opportunity. Simply because I never wanted to. Not with anybody else. I haven’t ever had a relationship that’s lasted more than a week.”

  “I get it,” Sandra said. She could feel moisture building behind her eyes, and looked away so he wouldn’t see. “It’s all about sex for you. But not with me, and not tonight, is that right? You can’t say you don’t want me to my face. Instead, you’re just leaving me again. But there’s one thing I don’t understand, Brandon. Why string me along? Why have Clarisse take me shopping, why put me in this hotel room, if you never wanted me? Is it some twisted game you play, where you flaunt your money for the poor, pathetic young girl? Where you tease her with your touch, only to leave her hanging at the end?” She couldn’t stop a sob from coming out. “It’s cruel.”

  “Sandra, no.” She felt his hand on her shoulder, and jerked away. Her skin still responded to him, but she couldn’t let him know how helpless he had made her feel.

  Or how vulnerable she was right then.

  “Just go,” she spat. “Take car
e of your business tonight. Whatever it is. I’m sure it makes you feel very important.”

  Brandon exhaled audibly. “Sandra, you’re not listening. If you were any other woman, I wouldn’t even be having this conversation with you. I would have already left. But you’re different. You matter to me. You matter to me more than I ever expected. That’s why I had to leave yesterday. I didn’t want you to assume I was only after sex. It’s more than that, with you.”

  “Then stay.”

  “I can’t. I wish I could, but I can’t.” He leaned over, placed a kiss on her neck. She began to turn even further away, but her stiffness melted under his gentle touch. She squeezed her lips together, then turned her head to look at him.

  His eyes widened in surprise. “Are you crying?”

  “No.” She started to wipe away the tears in her eyes, but he gripped her face in his hands before she could reach.

  “I never want to make you cry again.” He gently, sweetly trailed away the wetness on her cheeks with his thumbs. “I promise you, right here, right now, that I never will.”

  “But you’re still leaving.”

  “Yes. But I’ll be back in the morning.” He pulled her forward and kissed her on the forehead. “I won’t be able to stop thinking about you while I’m gone.”

  “And I’ll be thinking about you,” she admitted. Then she giggled, suddenly feeling giddy again. “Look at me. Tearing up like some lonely teenager.” She tried to smile, and found that it came easier to her than she’d expected. “If you say you’re going to be back, I believe you.”

  “That means a lot to me.” Brandon got up, spared one last look at her, and walked out the bedroom door.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Sandra slept poorly that night. The nightmare didn’t trouble her, but the feeling of coming so close to the edge with Brandon did. She’d been so close to what she wanted, needed, desired… only to have it scatter away like oil on a frying pan.

  Well, Brandon had said he’d be back. And she believed him. Maybe she shouldn’t, not with his track record, but was it her fault she’d become undeniably vulnerable to the mysterious man?

  Besides, he was all over her last night. And she’d reveled in being the object of his desire. If it weren’t for that blasted phone call, the night would have ended like it should have.

  Sandra rolled over and tried to find some sleep. It came, though only in short bursts. When the sun’s rays started to peek through the blinds hours later, Sandra knew it was time to get up. Her decision was sealed when she glanced at the clock and saw that it showed 6:55 a.m.

  After her sister’s death, Sandra had never been able to sleep more than seven hours at once. If she ever tried, her mind would immediately transport her back to the fire sixteen years ago. It didn’t matter how tired she was, or how little sleep she may have gotten the night before. If she tried to sleep for more than seven hours, the nightmare was guaranteed to come. It was the only surefire way she knew to induce the terrible dream.

  She pushed herself out of bed and walked to the shower. As the cold water cleansed her skin, she found a budding excitement building within her about seeing Brandon again. This time—really this time—she’d get what she wanted.

  She wrapped herself in a robe and went to the kitchen, made herself a coffee, and curled up on the generous recliner to read the paper that had been left outside her door.

  Brandon found Sandra fast asleep on the leather recliner when he returned a few hours later. He smiled as he watched her. The poor girl must have exhausted herself staying up all night waiting for him. It would be a shame to wake her now.

  He glanced at the dining table. Last night’s dinner was still set. Sandra had really gone all out to impress him. It was touching how hard she’d tried.

  If she had known how he felt, she would have realized that she didn’t need to do a single thing to impress him.

  The candles from last night had all burned out. It was too bad they didn’t get to use them. Brandon had some experience with games involving candles, chocolate, and leather belts.

  But that didn’t seem right for a girl like Sandra. At least, not at the start. He wanted to make love to her slowly, to make her come alive with the unheralded pleasure he could offer.

  So that she would know how much she meant to him.

  Last night, if Clarisse hadn’t called, he would have ravaged Sandra’s body. Sex with her would have been a release for all the pent-up emotion and feelings he was harboring for her. Last night, in that dress of hers, she had been pure sex in blue.

  Today, with the sun shimmering off her pale skin through the windows, Brandon felt different. Today, he vowed to take his time with her.

  And she’d been right about what she told him before he left. He had played games with her—without even realizing it. Not only was it cruel, but it wasn’t fair. To him, or to her.

  He eased himself quietly onto a chair by the table. He didn’t want to wake her while she slept. He’d dealt with everything that needed doing last night, and today, he had made sure that there would be no interruptions.

  Suddenly an inspiration struck him. Searching through the kitchen counters, he found a pad of paper and a pen. Scribbling a note, he lowered it on Sandra’s lap, careful not to rouse her, and tiptoed out of the hotel room and into the hallway.

  Sandra pretended to be asleep when she heard Brandon moving through the room. She opened her eyes just a slit to see him lower himself by the table. He sat there, watching her, a faint smile on his lips. Then he suddenly rose and rifled through the kitchen drawers. Sandra watched, careful not to give herself away, as he scribbled something on a piece of paper and stepped toward her. She shut her eyes then, and felt him lower the paper on her lap. She heard his footsteps moving away, and then the opening and closing of the suite doors.

  Puzzled, she opened her eyes and realized he was gone. But he’d left the folded piece of paper behind. She took the note and read it through sandy eyes.

  You looked so beautiful I couldn’t wake you.

  Thought of something you might like. Gone to get it.

  Be back soon,

  Brandon.

  Sandra smiled and brought the note to her chest. She had no idea what Brandon intended to bring to her, but she couldn’t wait to see it

  “I got you something,” Brandon announced as he walked into the suite.

  Sandra opened her eyes to find Brandon standing before her with his hands behind his back. “Oh?” she mumbled. She’d dozed a little while she waited, so it took her a second to comprehend his words fully. But when she did, she bound to her feet. “Let me see.”

  “You have to guess first.”

  “Guess?” She tried to peek around him, but he laughed and stepped back.

  “I’m not giving it to you until you guess.”

  “Well, I’m not very good at riddles.” She made a pouty face. “Can you give me a hint?”

  “A hint? Well, you could say it’s symbolic of our relationship so far.”

  Sandra narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “Oh, this I have to see.” She feigned left, and went right, trying to get behind him. Grinning, Brandon kept his distance, matching her step for step.

  “You’re not even trying to guess!”

  “It’s more fun this way.” She tried to jump around him. “I like to see you frazzled.”

  He laughed, and held out one hand, the other still gripping the mysterious object behind his back. He stopped her in place. “Don’t laugh, now.”

  “I wouldn’t dare.”

  He smiled, and slowly—ever so slowly—brought his other hand around.

  In it he held a lidded paper cup.

  Sandra frowned and reached for it, but he jerked it back. “Nuh-uh,” he warned. “You have to guess what’s inside, first.”

  “Um, coffee?”

  Brandon tilted his head to the side. “Come now. I’ve got more creativity in me than that.”

  “Come on, you’re just teasing,” Sandra
accused. “It can be anything!”

  “Maybe you’re right. But I wanted some way of marking one week of knowing you.”

  “So you got me a coffee?” she asked.

  Brandon shook the cup, and Sandra heard something solid rattle inside. “Oh, I don’t think I’d trust you with any hot liquids around me after what happened when we met.” He wore a grin of pure mischief. “The cup is just a symbol. It’s what’s inside that matters.”

  “Brandon! Just tell me.”

  “See for yourself.” Without warning, Brandon tossed the cup to her. Sandra fumbled to catch it. She gave a sheepish grin before peeling back the lid. Inside were two tickets.

  She took them out, but before she had a chance to see what they were for, Brandon stepped up to her. He covered her hand with his. “I figured I owed you at least a single coffee for the one you wasted on my shirt. But then I had a better idea. Two tickets, for a show tonight. At the Pacific Northwest Ballet. I thought I’d show you I have some culture in me yet…” The final words were a bare whisper against her ear. “The dancers are beautiful, just like you. The costumes, the music, the performance will take your breath away. Like you take my breath away.” Brandon swept around her, and Sandra suppressed a groan and shuddered as he brushed her hair aside and began to place soft, sweet kisses on her neck.

  “Brandon…” Sandra moaned. She closed her eyes and reveled in the feeling of the powerful man behind her. Her hand went back to take his, and he gripped hers tight.

  “You stayed up for me. Did you think I wouldn’t come back?”

  “I trusted you—Oh!” His hands went to her hips, and he tugged her into him. Beneath his warmth, she could feel him growing hard.

  Shivers ran down her back, and her eyes fluttered closed as the parade of kisses turned into sharp, small bites. She took a breath in, and was swept away by the all-encompassing aroma of Brandon: the musky scent of his cologne, the faint hint of aftershave, and—underneath it all—the pure masculine essence that was him.

  “Sandra,” he whispered in her ear, “you’re trembling.”

  “I am?” The question came out as a near-moan as Brandon’s hands slid up the sides of her body and stopped just on the outside of her firm, supple breasts.