Thirty Nights with a Dirty Boy: Part 1: A Heroes and Heartbreakers Serial

by Shiloh Walker

  He looked at me from across a table of flickering candlelight.

  I went to rise.

  He held up a hand.

  “Let me guess,” I said. “You want me to stay.”

  He gave me a half bow.

  Sighing, I folded my hands in my lap and tried to find that easy sense of comfort I’d known just a few moments earlier. Staring at the television screen, I focused on the characters. I’d always loved this show. It was silly and foolish and funny. I’d always wondered if the things Tim did were even possible, and I’d always loved Jill. She wasn’t too different from Nora, and if there were Jills in the world, there could be Tims, I supposed.

  Movement from the corner of my eye had me turning my head.

  I watched as Sean sank down on the cushion next to me. He held a plate in one hand and two glasses of wine in the other. “Talented hands,” I said softly. “You look like you might have worked a bar at one point in your life.”

  I took one of the glasses and sipped, wetting a throat gone desperately dry.

  “You can’t imagine the things I can do with my hands.” He sampled his own wine, staring at me with intense eyes over the glass. “But I’d love to show you.”

  My breathing hitched.

  Before I could make a fool of myself, I looked at the plate. “There’s only one plate.”

  “That’s because I’m going to feed you.”

  “Ah…” I eased away, nerves rising to crowd me.

  Before I could formulate a reason why that wasn’t wise, he held up a plump shrimp. “Open.”

  The look in his eyes was daring.

  Slowly, I did as he said, and he made a production of slipping the small bit of food past my lips, pausing to sweep his thumb over my lower lip before pulling his hand away. As I chewed, he popped a bite in his mouth with much less fanfare.

  He continued that pattern up until we’d eaten a little over half the plate. For me, that was more than a healthy meal, and when he tried to offer me a stuffed mushroom, I turned my head. “No. I’m full.”

  “You barely ate anything.” He took the mushroom himself, chewing it with a thoughtful expression. “I don’t see the big deal about these, you know. Lobster, shrimp. Give me a hot plate of fish and chips any day.”

  “I love fish and chips.”

  He lifted a brow. “You ever had them from anywhere other than here?”

  “Yes.” Absently, I reached over and plucked a sliver of chicken from the plate. It had been the best thing from the meal, and I could have eaten more of that. “My … mother and I traveled often. She homeschooled me up until I was a junior, so we were always traveling.”

  “You mean you had tutors.”

  “No.” I glanced up. “She taught me.”

  “I’d have thought you would have had fancy tutors and the like.” He shrugged, the heavy material of his sweater hugging his wide shoulders. I found myself thinking about reaching over and stroking my hand across the hard ridge of muscles. It was such a vivid idea that I had to curl my hand into a fist to keep from doing it.

  Sean saw it and lowered the plate to the table before reaching for my hand. “What’s this for?”

  He coaxed me into uncurling my fist, but I stared down, unwilling to look up at him.

  He leaned in and whispered softly against my cheek, “You’re blushing, Your Highness. What brings such a pretty shade of pink to your lovely face?”

  Swallowing, I shook my head. “Nothing.”

  “It’s something.” His lips brushed across my cheek, up to my ear. I gasped as he nipped the lobe, catching the fleshy bit between his teeth and tugging. “I want to know what.”

  Need made me bold.

  I was still terrified he’d walk away before I’d had anything from him.

  He hadn’t yet signed the contract and I needed at least something.

  “I might tell you,” I said slowly, letting the thought trail off and meeting his eyes when he pulled away.

  He stared at me and I didn’t look away, wouldn’t let myself..

  A smile curled his lips, and I thought I’d surprised him. I’d surprised myself.

  I liked it. People were always startling me, scaring me, making me nervous. It was nice to be the one who’d surprised somebody.

  Although I’d surprised him more than once.

  It made me smile now, thinking of it.

  He reached up and touched my lower lip. “That smile makes me want to bite you, Your Highness.”

  “Why are you calling me that?” Scowling at him, I shifted away, twisting so that I was facing him, my back squarely against the padded arm of the couch. The position forced the narrow skirt of my dress higher.

  I went to tug it down.

  Sean caught my hands, held them steady. “Leave it,” he said, his voice rough. “I like seeing you like this. A little less put together. So fucking sexy.”

  Heat exploded through me, and it just got steadily worse as he leaned in, closing the distance between us until little more than air remained. He hovered just a few inches away. “You said you might tell me … It sounds like you’ve a bargain in mind, love. What is it you want?”

  A ragged breath wheezed out of me. I seemed to have developed some odd issue with breathing, so I sucked in another, but it didn’t help.

  Sean’s gaze roamed down from my face to linger on my breasts.

  “Kiss me,” I said, the words escaping me in a rush.

  Frosty gray eyes shot up, all but skewered me. “What was that, lass?” he asked, his voice a harsh rumble.

  “I’ll tell you … after you kiss me…?” It came out a nervous squeak of a question.

  His response was a wolfish smile. “Oh, Your Highness. I’d be delighted.”

  He went to lower his head.

  I pressed my fingers to his lips. His mouth was silken—firm and hard, yes, but soft at the same time. The heat blistering through me grew even worse and I thought I’d die if he didn’t touch me soon.

  “A real kiss.” I licked my lips, staring at his mouth. “Not those pecks you’ve been teasing me with.”

  “A real kiss, then.”

  Chapter 5

  I should have been careful what I asked for.

  Sean, apparently, put a great deal of thought into his kisses.

  We didn’t stay on the couch. No, he scooped me up into his arms and we ended up on the wide chair that faced out over the balcony.

  He sat down with me sprawled on his lap, and when I tried to wiggle upright, he just wiggled me back into place and shifted me until he had me where he wanted me.

  That had me sitting astride his lap, my skirt so high that one more nudge would bare my ass to the whole world. Well, the world outside the window of the presidential suite of the Waldorf Astoria, that is. I doubted anybody could see. But it was still slightly embarrassing.

  Then he cupped his hand over my hip, and thoughts of discomfort and almost everything else faded.

  He flexed his hand, tightened it, his fingers digging lightly into my flesh.

  “You’re incredibly lovely,” he whispered, his mouth against my neck. “All elegance and steel on the outside. Soft and vulnerable under that icy exterior. It’s enough to drive a man mad, Your Highness.”

  Steel?

  There was no steel to me.

  I barely held it together on the best of days. My exterior was nothing but brittle desperation, if that.

  But then he lifted his head and studied me, his eyes holding me captive.

  If he chose to see me as lovely, or even if he chose to just tell me that, then I could choose to believe it. At least for tonight.

  I slid my hand up his arm, hardly daring to believe I was doing so. I’d left my gloves in the car. It had taken more strength than I thought I had to do so, but I’d done it. Paul, my driver, had promised he’d have them with him when he returned in the morning.

  Without them, all that stood between my skin and Sean’s was the nubby weave of his sweater. I wanted to pu
sh it out of the way.

  “Come here,” he said, his voice hard, rough. “I’m finding myself rather desperate to hear just what it was that had you smiling. You’ve the same look in your eyes now.”

  His lips brushed against my chin.

  I closed my eyes.

  They slid across my cheek.

  I opened my eyes.

  He kissed my other cheek.

  I huffed out a breath.

  This was hardly — His mouth closed over mine and I gasped. That seemed to seal his lips to mine.

  His tongue swept into my mouth, a slow, driving surge that brought the smoky taste of bourbon and fire and heat. A low, hungry noise filled the air. It could have been me. I didn’t know.

  Hesitant, I reached up and placed my hand on his cheek.

  He had both his hands curled around my waist, holding me steady. They tensed, and I braced myself, ready to feel him plaster me against him. I wanted it.

  But he just kissed me.

  His mouth made love to mine.

  I can think of no other way to describe it.

  His tongue stroked and teased mine, coaxed me into tasting him the same way he’d kissed me. It was the first time I’d ever had a man kiss me—really kiss me—because, as I’d told Sean, those pecks didn’t count.

  This was delirious and delightful and dangerous.

  My nipples ached, my breasts felt heavy, and in a desperate attempt to ease myself, I leaned against him.

  The movement shifted my weight.

  I gasped at the feel of him between my legs.

  Slick wetness coated me and I could feel myself sliding against him—

  His mouth tore from mine.

  Dazed, I tried to follow, but his hands held me locked in place.

  “There…” Sean closed his eyes, a smile ghosting around his mouth. His lips were red, swollen.

  Mine felt the same. I licked them and realized I could taste him now. Really taste him. And I’d hate it when I no longer could.

  “One kiss.” He cracked an eye open and studied me. “Your turn, lass. Now you tell me … What had you fisting those pretty hands up? Were you thinking of laying one on me already?”

  Surprised, I shook my head. “What … oh. Well, maybe.”

  His hands smoothed down my thighs. The sensation had me shivering.

  He noticed. Of course he did.

  He did it again, and I would have wilted against him like a flower, except now that I was thinking, I was nervous again. Slowly, I eased away. He let me and I squirmed free, taking the time to smooth my skirt back into place. I moved to the window and stared outside. “You’ll think I’m foolish, of course. This is … easy for you.” I shrugged. “But I was…”

  I cleared my throat. “I was thinking about touching you. I wanted to. It was easier to ignore it if I was…” I shrugged.

  He was quiet.

  I focused on the window. That was how I saw him moving. His reflection was indistinct, but I saw him rise from the chair. He came up behind me and rested his hands on my hips. “You can touch whatever you want.”

  “Not yet.”

  “No?” He nuzzled my neck. Then he sighed. “Ah … yes. Your contract. There’s something you owe me first, Your Highness.”

  He’d placed a hand on my belly. As he tugged me back against him, I closed my eyes. I let him hold me. It was nice, sharing the warmth of another. I never expected I’d be able to bear having somebody stand so close, touch me. That I’d be able to … to … to tolerate it.

  But here I was.

  And I enjoyed it.

  Swallowing, I lifted my gaze and focused on the wavering reflection of Sean’s face. “I don’t like being touched,” I said, hoping that would be enough of an explanation.

  “I’m touching you,” he said. His voice was lower, rougher, and the music of Scotland was thicker. As if to demonstrate his point, his hand pressed more firmly against the slight swell of my abdomen. “See? And I think you like it well enough.”

  Then he skimmed his lips along my right shoulder, left bare by the halter cut of my dress. Goose bumps broke out, and I shivered.

  Worse, my nipples tightened and stabbed into my bra. The lined fabric kept that from showing, but I suspected he knew.

  “I think you enjoyed that.”

  Slowly, he turned me around, and I held my breath as he backed me up against the window. The hard, cold surface was a startling contrast to his hard, warm body, and I had to keep reminding myself to breathe. Just breathe.

  “Did you?” he murmured, dipping his head to rub his lips against mine.

  I opened my mouth, hungry to taste him again.

  But he pulled back.

  A soft, mewling noise filled the air and my eyes flew open. I hadn’t even realized I’d closed them. And that noise … that was me.

  “Did you?” Sean asked again, this time pressing his mouth to my ear.

  “Did I what?”

  “Enjoy me touching you?”

  “Oh.” Blood rushed up to stain my cheeks red. I swallowed and nodded. “Yes. I … yes.” I couldn’t explain why, but nothing about his touch sent me flying back. Nothing about his touch made the voices from the past rush up at me. I was too caught in the here and the now and the total heat of everything that was him.

  Sean’s hand was on my waist, and I shivered as he started to stroke up, moving with almost exaggerated slowness. When the heel of his hand brushed against the curve of my breast, I felt my toes curl, and then slowly, my hands followed suit, curling into tight fists. “Are you still with me?” he asked, his breath ghosting over my skin.

  “Yes.”

  His face turned to mine, and this time, when he kissed me, I recognized the soft whimper as mine. He made a hungry, rougher noise deep in his throat when I opened my mouth. His tongue rubbed over mine, and a moment later, his palm cupped my breast.

  My nipples, both of them, tightened into stiff, aching peaks, and I wanted nothing more than to strip away my bra. It hadn’t been this abrasive before, but now it was miserable and rough, scraping against my sensitive skin.

  The kiss ended, slowly, and his hand fell away. I wanted to grab his hand, wanted to tug his mouth back to mine. But I didn’t have the courage, and a moment later, he stepped away.

  “It seems to me you like being touched just fine, Your Highness.”

  Frustrated desire burned inside me.

  He paced away, giving me his back. I glared at him, feeling an irrational anger welling within. He detoured by the coffee table where we had eaten, fetching his mostly empty wineglass. His movements were casual, his mannerisms laid-back and confident. What I wouldn’t give to have that much self-assurance, to move through life with the sort of ease he clearly had.

  The anger continued to build as he refilled his wine and tossed it back like it was some two-dollar shot of tequila. When he glanced over at me, he crooked a brow. “You haven’t given me a real answer, Ella,” he said, gesturing with his glass. “You say you don’t like being touched, and I’ve kind of gathered that idea meself, true. But just a few seconds ago, I had my hands all over you and you were wrapped around me.” He shook his head. “I don’t think you’ve as much trouble with being touched as you might think. You ought to go out and find yourself somebody who would take you out to dinner, take you dancing, take you to bed … and eventually take you to the bloody church and marry you. That’s what a woman like you looks for, Ella. A woman like you isn’t looking for a few nights with a whore.”

  It wasn’t until he was dodging that I even realized what I’d done.

  We stood there, the two of us, staring at the heavy glass globe from the accent table between the chair and window. I’d grabbed it and thrown it at him.

  It hadn’t hit him, but it could have.

  I swallowed and slowly forced myself to meet his eyes. He looked up at the same time.

  I told myself to apologize. But the words that came out weren’t words of apology. “A woman like me,” I said. “
You’ve no idea what kind of woman I am.”

  I curled my lip at him, taking one step toward him. Sean tucked his hands into the pockets of his trousers and said nothing.

  “A month ago, I went into a bookstore. I like bookstores,” I said, trying to smile. “A little boy got lost, so I took him up to the manager. The boy … I handled him fine. I was even able to pick him up and hold him. He was crying.” The smile I’d struggled to find wobbled and fell away. “It broke my heart. His father came rushing up, and he touched my arm…”

  I was going to hyperventilate. I could feel it coming on even now.

  A look of concern crossed Sean’s face, and I held up a hand when he started to come to me. “Don’t!”

  I turned away, pressing my hands to the window. “All he did was touch my arm. My driver had to sedate me and carry me out of the store. He’d been standing by the front door and he…” I stopped and shook my head. “All of my staff are trained in what to do when I have my episodes. That’s what we call them. Episodes. They are given strict instructions to never touch me, strict instructions on what to do if they find me having one of my panic attack.”

  Sound came to my ears, and I turned my head. He’d moved. Closer now, although nowhere near as close as he’d been.

  “My first year attending school … It was a private school.” I laughed quietly. “That makes it sound as though there was only one. I went through nearly every private school in the city before I finally managed to stay in one. The crowds, people touching me, bumping into me…”

  When he moved this time, I did, too. I looked at him, glaring. “Do you think I enjoy being alone?”

  “No.”

  “The last person that I could trust enough to relax around was my guardian—the only real mother I’ve ever known, although we weren’t related. She was my best friend, she was my anchor, she was my world. She’s been dead for years, and she’s the first and only person I could tolerate touching me.” I hesitated, frowning at him. “Until you.”

  “And what is it that makes it different with me?” He lifted a hand, scraping his nails lightly down his jaw, along the faint growth of five o’clock shadow that darkened his face.