by Silver James
“See? That’s exactly it. You said all that in a two-syllable word. A pet name. It’s...” She sighed. “How do guys do that?”
He laughed again, but she didn’t think he was laughing at her. He was simply enjoying the conversation. “Aren’t guys supposed to be the strong, silent types?” She caught his glance and nodded. “So we have to learn to communicate in as few words as possible.”
“Well, you do it well.”
He offered her a three-quarter profile, an arched brow and a smug smile. “I do everything well.”
“I’ve heard that.” That got her a dimpled smile, which sent a little quiver shooting through her.
“You hungry?”
Savannah wanted to throw her hands in the air in frustration. Two words. Two innocuous words. He was asking if she’d like to get something to eat. She would. Her stomach was about a minute away from growling. But she wasn’t thinking about food. She was thinking about him. And doing things to him. Him doing things to her. So yeah, she was hungry.
“I could eat.”
That got her a sideways glance. “Want to go out or head home and order room service?”
She should remain in public with him. Definitely. “Let’s do room service. I need a shower.”
And dang if that didn’t get her a full-face look and a slow, sexy grin. What was she thinking? And why wasn’t her mouth obeying her brain?
“I can work with that.”
Wisely keeping her mouth shut, she remained silent until they got to the hotel, rode up in the elevator and entered his apartment.
“Trust me?”
His question caught her off guard, and she gave him a narrow-eyed look. “Yeah...”
“Go grab your shower. I’ll order up dinner.”
“And what does any of that have to do with trust?” Oh, but he was devilish when his eyes twinkled like that. She breathed in deeply.
“Trust me to order something you’ll like.”
She wasn’t expecting that answer, and she blinked a few times in order to catch up. “Oh. Uh, sure.”
He flashed another smile, this one with only a hint of dimple, before he gripped her shoulders, turned her around and nudged her toward the hallway leading to the bedroom and master bath. “Take your time. In fact, if you’d like a bubble bath or—”
A snorting giggle escaped before she could smother it. “Uh, thanks, but I’m not really a bubble bath kind of girl.”
He paused a couple of beats before he said, “That’s too bad.”
Oh, double dang damn. The way he uttered those words made her want to be that kind of girl—to be girlie and sexy and the type of woman Chase would take to his bed and do really sexy things with.
Chase watched her, doing his best to hide his smile. He’d seen her hesitation, and he couldn’t help but notice the sudden added sway to her lush hips as she walked away. Definitely time to put his plan in action. He liked women. Understood them better than a lot of men. Savannah didn’t want to be a notch on his bed. She wasn’t. They were together for the next year. Married. Married people had sex. He’d make it good for her. Make her happy. Until it was time to make her unhappy so their split looked real.
A twinge of conscience nudged him, but he stuffed it away. Time for food and frolic. He wanted this woman. The more he got to know her, the more he wanted her. She knew who he was. What he was. She’d still signed on the dotted line. Was he cheating with this plan to get her in his bed for something more than sleep? Maybe. He refused to examine his motives too closely. Savannah Wolfe—Savannah Barron, he reminded himself—was intriguing. He wanted to solve the mystery of her, find out what made her tick. Find out what made her moan and beg, made her whisper his name in need.
Forty-five minutes later, he knocked on the closed—and locked—bathroom door.
“Yeah?”
“Food is on its way up, Sav.”
“Be right out.”
He’d taken the forty-five minutes to change clothes, stripping out of jeans, boots and Western shirt and getting comfortable in sweats and a T-shirt. This was his normal attire for a night in. Mostly. He was dressed as much for comfort as seduction. Wearing those sweats commando made stripping down easy.
Savannah strolled into the living area just as room service knocked on the door. She wore cotton drawstring pants and a slouchy pullover shirt with a wide neck. A spaghetti strap peeked out. Good. She was wearing the camisole tank she normally slept in. He liked the looks of her in that camisole. A lot.
“Grab me a beer, hon?” he called over his shoulder as he answered the door.
Ushering the waiter in, Chase waved him toward the couch and coffee table. “Set up there.”
“Sure thing, Mr. B.”
Something about the waiter’s demeanor tripped alarms, and Chase watched him closely. It took a moment, but he found the miniature video camera the waiter hadn’t hidden very well under the lapel of his jacket. Chase had his phone in his hand, texting Security while the guy off-loaded—rather clumsily—the service trolley. The fake waiter made another mistake when he held out the ticket for Chase’s signature. Savannah hadn’t come out of the kitchen yet and was still out of sight. The guy was lingering to catch a glimpse of her. That was good. It meant Security would be at the door when he walked out.
Chase’s phone pinged. Security was in place, so Chase opened the door and shoved the paparazzo out. The man would be banned from all Barron properties. He’d be marched down to the security office, the camera footage erased. He’d be photographed, turned over to Las Vegas police and charged with trespassing.
When Savannah joined Chase, carrying two beers, she had no idea their privacy had been invaded. At some point, he’d need his security people to give her a briefing. Perhaps he should assign a bodyguard. He’d think on that. He didn’t want to scare her, but he didn’t want the tabloids getting too close. For now, though, it was all about beer, finger food he could feed her and then far more intimate pursuits. Chase had definite plans for his bride, and those plans meant she’d not only be sleeping in his bed, but she’d be sleeping with him. In other words, sleep didn’t enter into the equation at all.
She settled into the deep cushions of his couch—close but not close enough to suit him. Still, he couldn’t push. Wouldn’t, truthfully. It was important she want him as much as he wanted her. He had a clue she did, given her reactions every time he kissed her. He enjoyed her breathless sigh when he broke off a kiss, the quick tensing of muscles before she relaxed into his embrace.
Putting his plan into motion, he filled a plate with cheese, crackers, meat and fruit. Leaning back into the soft leather of his couch, he held out a bite of sharp cheddar cheese. “Open up, kitten.”
Her expression was distrustful. “I can feed myself.”
“So?”
“So... I can feed myself.”
He schooled the smile wanting to crease his cheeks and tickled her lips with the point of the cheese wedge. “Take a bite.”
She opened her lips and nibbled at the cheese before her jaw unclenched, and she allowed him to feed her. It wasn’t wedding cake, but he got a thrill from feeding her. As she chewed and swallowed, he picked a slice of green apple. He took a bite, swallowed—crunchy tart with a hint of sweet. Then before she knew what he was doing, he kissed her. As he’d anticipated, the two flavors mixed on their tongues.
Her sharp inhalation caused one breast to collide with his arm. He cupped her jaw in his palm, caressing her cheek with his thumb. She watched him, her expression slightly dazed.
“What are you doing?” she whispered, her lips remaining parted and wet from his kiss.
“What does it look like I’m doing?”
“Chase.”
Man, but the sound of his name sighing between those full lips of hers set him on fire. “Not gonn
a lie here, kitten. I want you. A lot. We’re married. We sleep in the same bed. I’m yours for the next year. You’re mine.” He kissed the tip of her nose before shifting back a few inches so he could watch her without his eyes crossing. “Gonna be honest. I had every intention of keeping our bargain, of not touching you. But, baby? I gotta say, you’re driving me crazy. You’re beautiful. You’re sweet. Waking up with you in my arms the other morning was...” Was what? he wondered. Perfect? Yes. Wonderful? Yes. Something he wanted more of? Most definitely. But he was not about to admit any of that to her.
He kissed her again, one arm slipping around her back, the other holding her head until she sank into the kiss. His hand dropped to her shoulder, then trailed lower to skirt the swell of her breast. When she sighed into his mouth, he moved to cup her, thrilled that the nipple under his fingers pebbled when she pressed into him.
“Bed,” he murmured. “Want you in bed.”
When she didn’t argue, he sat up, taking her with him, then pushed off the couch, holding her cradled in his arms. He didn’t quite run to the bedroom, but he was full speed ahead until he dropped onto the huge king, keeping her in his arms.
“Birth control?” he demanded, hoping she was on the pill. He wanted to take her bareback. He was clean and as he throbbed with the need for her, he didn’t want to bother with a condom.
“No.”
He inhaled around the breath he’d been holding.
“I...” She swallowed, and he got lost watching her throat. “I haven’t dated in a while.”
What? He didn’t care if she had...oh. A part of his brain kicked in. Sort of. In her shy way, she was admitting she’d had no man in her bed. But no pill meant he needed to suit up. As he grew harder and his craving for her grew more intense, he almost forgot why it mattered. He rolled over her, jerked out the drawer in the nearest nightstand, grabbed a handful of foil packets.
“We’re good.” He wanted her and wanted her now, but he took the time to keep them both safe. Now naked and protected, he moved back over her.
In a long, slow movement, he rolled her onto her back. He kissed the soft hollow where her jaw met her throat. Trailing his lips down the slim column, he kissed his way along her collarbone. His hands skimmed up along her side and removed first her pullover shirt and then her camisole. Impatient at the sight of her breasts, rising and falling with her quickened breath, he stripped off her pants and panties. He pushed his thigh between hers, tangling their legs before settling between hers, his erection pressed against the heat at the V of her thighs. He could see her now, the shape of her face, the gleam in her eyes. He slid into her, and there was a quick hitch of her breath, followed by a slow exhale as he remained buried deep inside.
The moment stretched as he held still, watching her, waiting. Her eyes, at first wide and shocked, softened. Her expression followed, her lips curling at the corners, her jaw relaxing. He had her now. Had almost all of her. Before the night was done, he’d have everything.
He pulled back, watched her eyes narrow, hid his smile as her inner muscles clutched at him, working to keep him inside. He gave her what she wanted, pushing back in. Her eyes widened again, then her lashes fluttered closed to paint half-moon shadows on her high cheekbones.
“Don’t.” He murmured the entreaty. “Look at me, kitten. I want to see your eyes.”
She did as he requested, hesitantly, her skin tingeing with embarrassment.
“Don’t.” An order this time. “This is just us, Savannah. Just you. Just me. Nobody intrudes here but us. You’re beautiful. This is beautiful.”
“I...” She swallowed hard, not finishing the sentence.
He watched her throat work, thinking of her mouth, and the part of his body currently buried inside her. That would come later. There were all sorts of things he wanted to do to and with this woman. She swiveled her hips, and he forgot to think at all.
Long, slow and deep. Over and over again. In. Out. He held her gaze, studied her, devoured the range of emotions disclosed there. Her body was rising toward him, his falling toward hers. She shuddered and groped for his hands. Their fingers linked, their mouths met, their breaths mingled.
He watched desire suffuse her face, felt his own climax climbing up his spine. “With me, baby,” he ordered. “With me.”
They exploded together, and the look in her eyes undid him as he watched. Passion. Need. Want. Hope. Trust. Those last two froze him. What was he doing? This was business. Sex usually was for him, but this woman made him feel things—guilt, contentment, protectiveness. He had no room in his life for those things. Especially not with this woman.
He rolled away to divest himself of their protection. A moment later, he snugged her in close to his side, her head on his shoulder. “Go to sleep, kitten.”
He listened as her breathing deepened, soft puffs of air teasing the hair on his chest. This was good. He liked this. He’d enjoy it tonight and tomorrow would take care of itself.
She was warm and naked, still soft from their lovemaking and sleep. Here in the dark, running his hands over her curves, he wondered if this was a dream. Touch. Fragrance. Sighs in the shadows of his darkened room. Savannah stretched, rolled into him, her lips leaving a damp trail across his skin. Fingers stroked over him, stirring him back to life.
He nudged her to lie across his body, her legs trapped between his. He cupped her face, stared into her eyes, looking for...something. He wasn’t sure what. Acceptance? Desire? Maybe even a hint of love. She lowered her head, pushing against his palms. Her mouth sank to his, her body melting around him.
She sighed into the kiss, something wistful in the sound. Or maybe that was him. Maybe he wanted something more from this woman, from this relationship. Something he’d never have, never hoped to have. As she lay over him, he traced the curves of her heart-shaped butt, brushing his fingers up her spine, enjoying the shiver his action invoked. He cupped her shoulders—broader, stronger than those of the women who normally shared his bed. His hands swept down her back, the long, muscular line of it, until his hands once again cupped her. He smiled, remembering how he’d wanted to put his hands in her hip pockets to do just this. Skin to skin was infinitely better.
He hooked the backs of her thighs, repositioned her to straddle him, then reached for a condom. “Ride me, kitten,” he commanded, once he was sleeved up.
“Yeah. I like that idea.” She pushed off her knees, got him situated and sank down on him. Slow. Oh, so very slow. His hands gripped her thighs, her muscles bunched beneath them, giving her exquisite control. Lots of dirty words swirled in his brain. Crude words for what they were doing. He didn’t say them. Not out loud. This moment between them was too divine for the vernacular.
She rode him slow. Rode him hard. Her heart galloped beneath his palm where he cupped her breast. He looked down, watching where their bodies remained connected. It was one of the sexiest sights he’d ever seen. Then his gaze traveled up her body. Golden tan skin, flushed with a tinge of pink. Dark hair tousled and playing peekaboo with her full breasts. Head thrown back, tongue kissing her lips and leaving them moist. He’d been wrong. This was the sexiest thing he’d ever seen.
They both came, again at the same time. She collapsed over him, her face buried against his neck and shoulder. He pushed one of her knees until she straightened her leg. Then he rolled them to their sides, holding her close, caressing her back with slow brushes of his fingertips. “Sleep, kitten. Sleep now.”
When he awoke, sun teasing his eyes from the partially opened drapes, Savannah was still curled against him, and he liked it. Liked it a lot. Liked it maybe too much.
Twelve
Sunday afternoon, Savannah stood in the rodeo office, check in hand. She’d won all the go-rounds in the barrel racing and placed in the calf roping. Since she was out of practice at roping she was pleased. Kade hadn’t lied about Big
Red. The horse was cow savvy. The problem had been her inconsistencies with her loop. Well, that and Chase’s presence in the stands cheering her on. Friday night. Saturday. Saturday night. And Sunday afternoon. He’d been sitting in a box right behind the chutes, cheering and whistling each time she competed. It had been distracting. But in a good way.
She offered the rodeo secretary a big smile over her shoulder as she pushed open the office door and walked into a barrage of camera flashes. She stopped dead, hand up to cover her eyes, blinking rapidly. When her vision cleared, she found Twyla Allan, the rodeo queen, draped across the chest of Savannah’s husband, posing for photos. The urge to bang her head against the wall was almost overwhelming. Idiot. She was a complete idiot for getting involved with a player who attracted women like Chase did.
Mouth tight but her head high, she attempted to evade the crowd of paparazzi. She got about four feet when Chase looked up and saw her. She was caught flat-footed when Chase disengaged from the sexy woman with her arms around his neck, strode directly to Savvie and folded her into his arms. He laid a big, fat wet one on her mouth, leaving her breathless and clutching at his shoulders when the kiss ended.
“Oh, wow.” She blushed when a cocky grin spread across his face. She hadn’t meant to say that aloud. Plus, she was supposed to be angry. He’d been flirting with that woman. After making love to her last night. For hours.
“Definitely wow, kitten.” Chase murmured the words against her temple after he tipped her Stetson back. “Smile for the camera, darlin’. A few pics, then we’re out of here. I’m taking my girl out for dinner to celebrate.”
She did as he instructed, curling into his side and smiling as they were peppered with questions about their sudden marriage and other things. Savvie caught a glimpse of Twyla through the crowd. The girl stood on the edge of the group, hands fisted on her hips and an ugly expression on her face. A real beauty queen in her tight jeans and spangly top. Savvie understood why the girl stared daggers her direction. Sav was nothing to write home about.
