Seducing the Playboy (A Hot Nights Series Book) (Entangled Brazen)

by Amanda Usen

  And it had been amazing. Incredible. Un-fucking-believable. He’d never felt so connected to another person in his entire life, but great sex wasn’t all they had going for them. It’s a damn good place to start, though. That’s why he was going to take it slow…and naked. When they got to Vegas, he’d show her what kind of a life he could offer her. Hopefully their dessert would be a smashing success, and she’d see how well they worked together, too. Then he would make his pitch.

  His conscience flared, reminding him he hadn’t responded to Cole’s text, but he wanted to report good news when he did. He wasn’t going to break her heart, but he also didn’t want to discuss what he was doing, either. He set the champagne glasses down next to her with a smile and doubled back into the kitchen. Quickly, he tossed the salad James had left in the fridge, and divided the seafood lasagna into squares. He heaped two plates with food, grabbed silverware and napkins, and carried it all back outside. He handed her a plate and settled next to her, pushing thoughts of Cole out of his mind.

  “This is the life,” she said, digging in. Her eyes widened, and she moaned. “God, I hope James is coming back to cook breakfast. This is fantastic.”

  “James will be working. I had him bring all this over from Gallagher’s in Burbank. He added a few nice touches of his own, though.” There had been a brand-new bottle of unfamiliar lube in the drawer next to his condoms, as well as a few other things he hadn’t taken the time to examine. Apparently James thought a romantic evening required batteries.

  “I hope you tipped him well.”

  Worth every penny. “There’s also a fruit tart in the fridge. I know you like the classics.”

  They ate in silence until she set her empty plate on the coffee table. “I can’t eat another bite.” He gave up, too, putting his plate beside hers and stretching out next to her.

  He tugged at the fastening of her robe.

  “Hey, we’re outside.” She retied the knot.

  “And completely fenced in, on a beautiful night, surrounded by candlelight.” He slid one hand into her robe to cup her full breast, not in the least deterred. He rubbed his thumb over her nipple, enjoying the way it hardened. He pinched lightly, and she gasped.

  He continued his assault, alternating gentle caresses with firm pinches until he knew exactly how she liked to be touched. God knew everything she did was fantastic for him. Everything about her was perfect. He couldn’t get enough of her. He slipped his hand between her legs, keeping her covered by the robe, groaning when he discovered she wasn’t wearing panties.

  She was silken to his touch, warm and welcoming. He took his time, learning her body again, and feeling himself stir. Women were infinitely superior to men when it came to the recovery period. He planned to exploit hers until she begged him to stop. Her hips bucked impatiently, and he chuckled, slowing the glide of his fingers through her folds. “Patience, Goldilocks. All in good time.”

  “I’d be having a better time if you—”

  “My timetable,” he reminded, silencing her with a kiss.

  Her eyes narrowed to glowing slits, then she smiled sweetly. She opened her mouth and yawned, then rolled over, dislodging his hand. She curled up with her back to him and began to fake snore.

  “Brat.” He smacked her ass, so tempting beneath his thin robe. She squealed, so he did it again. “I notice you’re not complaining. I like a woman with a kinky streak.”

  He sat up and grabbed her thighs, hauling her over his lap. Her torso was supported on the lounger, and her legs dangled over the side.

  “I swear nobody’s looking.” He yanked her robe up, exposing her ass. His blows had left a slight pink spot, and he traced it with his finger, feeling her shudder. “Not such a good girl, after all.”

  She craned her neck to look over her shoulder, a sultry smile on her face and a challenge in her eyes. “That’s your hang-up, not mine.”

  He braced his forearm on her lower back and gave her ass a teasing pat. “Most people wouldn’t mouth off in your position.”

  She snored again.

  “You asked for it.” He began to rain light blows on her lush ass, grinning when her thighs parted. She shifted, no doubt to make sure he knew she was aware of his erection. He swatted her harder, pleased when she yelped. “Too hard, too soft—there’s a Three Bears joke in here somewhere.”

  He slipped his fingers between her thighs, finding her soaking wet. “Ah…just right.”

  Her giggle turned into a low moan and she held perfectly still, although he doubted she’d learned her lesson. At least, he hoped she hadn’t. However, the time for teasing was gone. He circled her clit. Her thighs tensed. He flicked his middle finger back and forth, gathered moisture from her opening. She whimpered and arched her back, giving him better access. He focused on her clit, rolling it between two fingers and using his thumb as a backboard.

  She broke with a soft scream, pumping her hips, and he slid his thumb inside her, applying pressure to her G-spot as she rode his hand. When her only movement was the occasional spasm, he gently rolled her onto the lounger. She offered no resistance, landing on her back, splayed out, with the robe askew, exposing more of her body than it covered.

  “Definitely just right,” she gasped with breathless laughter.

  He bent to lift her in his arms. “There are some things I won’t do on the porch.”

  “After that performance, I’m not sure I believe you.”

  He carried her into his bedroom and laid her on the bed. She wriggled out of his robe while he opened the drawer to get a condom. One by one he pulled items out of the drawer.

  Jenna’s eyes shot wide. “What on earth?”

  “James is a funny guy,” he said dryly, tossing a cock ring onto the bedside table. His staying power was fine, thank you very much.

  She giggled and sat up, casting a glance over the toys. “Some of those things have possibilities, but I’ve got what I want right here.” Her hand closed over him.

  She guided him to stand in front of her. Her hand moved up and down in a lazy caress, thumb gliding across the head of his cock. She bent her head and took him in her mouth. He groaned as a shudder shook him from the soles of his feet to his scalp, every synapse firing at once when he felt the warmth of her mouth, the firm pressure of her lips, and the teasing strokes of her tongue. He gathered her hair in his hand, holding it on top of her head so he could watch her work him, suddenly appreciating the advantage of a cock ring. He was going to blow, the sensation and the view a powerful combination that shot straight to his balls, currently cupped in her palm.

  He saw red, then white as his climax barreled toward him. He reached down to squeeze the base of his cock, hard. “If you keep doing that, we won’t need a condom.”

  She looked torn, so he made the decision, donning a rubber and flopping onto his back on the bed. She climbed on top of him.

  “Are you a breast man?” she asked, sliding down with taunting slowness before she rose up onto her knees again. He gasped as he slipped out of her body.

  “Or an ass man?” She reversed her position and took him into her body again, this time facing his knees.

  “I’m a yes man,” he groaned. Especially since there was a mirror over the dresser at the end of the bed and he could see everything.

  “This is where one of those battery-operated devices would come in handy, but I’ll make do.” She licked her fingers and pressed them between her legs. Fire raced up his spine. There was no way in hell he was going to be able to wait for her.

  “Next time,” he promised, grasping her hips as he lost control.

  Chapter Ten

  By Monday morning, they’d worked their way through every item in the drawer but one, and he was saving it for the drive.

  “Limo’s here,” he called to her through the bathroom door.

  She opened it, steam billowing out. “What? I thought we were driving.”

  “We’re traveling by car, but mine doesn’t have a backseat or enough trunk
space. I hired a limo. Huge backseat.” He leered at her.

  “You’re insatiable.”

  “Damn straight. Wear these, okay?”

  “Vibrating panties? You shouldn’t have.”

  “First stop is your place so you can pack. Then we’ll swing by the Beach House.” He’d checked in with Max several times yesterday, and business had increased exponentially. “We’ll be in Las Vegas by dinnertime, and I have reservations at a cute little French bistro where we can watch the Bellagio fountain. Do you like to gamble?”

  “I have no idea. I’ve never had enough money to be willing to risk any.”

  “We’ll have to see if you like risking mine. I also have tickets for Cirque du Soleil, the sexy one. And our room has a stripper pole, in case you get inspired by the performers.”

  “Wait—what?”

  He grinned. “The last one was a joke.” But it did have a hot tub, a balcony, a fully stocked kitchen and a king-size bed. He’d taken Max’s advice and pulled out all the stops. Giving one hundred percent had been beaten into him from an early age. He’d show her how much he cared and give her the trip of a lifetime. Then he’d find the right time to talk to her about making it permanent.

  “I’ll be right out.”

  He finished cleaning up the kitchen and carried his stuff out to the car, feeling energized. Taking a day off had been a great idea. They’d spent every moment together, and he couldn’t wait to get everything settled into the kitchen in Vegas so they could continue having fun. She came out of the house wearing her chef pants and one of his T-shirts. “I hope you don’t mind. I borrowed your shirt.”

  “Not a bit.” He helped her into the car. “But you look better naked.”

  After a quick stop at her house so she could pack a bag, they hit the Beach House. Once again, he was amazed by her organizational skills. She moved through the kitchen with a list, tucking items into a bus tub. Once that was stowed in the limo, she pulled out another list and began handing the cooks boxes of frozen chocolate cream puffs to carry out to the car. Then she packed the mousses in coolers, and pulled out another list for caramel ingredients. “I think you forgot towels, gloves, and the kitchen sink,” he teased.

  “Towels and gloves are packed.” She raised an eyebrow. “You can’t talk your friend Alex into letting us use a sink? What did you do to her?”

  His mouth fell open, and he shut it with a snap. “Nothing.”

  “I bet.” She left him standing at the limo, filled with dread. Of all the women in his past, Alex probably had the worst opinion of him. Introducing her to Jenna wasn’t going to help his cause at all, but there was no way to get out of it.

  After a last trip through the kitchen, Jenna declared them ready and they headed for the interstate. She yawned. They’d stayed up most of Saturday night, slept much of Sunday away, and repeated the process. It was no wonder she was tired. Luckily, they had plenty of room, a four-hour ride, and he had an excellent wake-up call planned for her.

  He put his arm around her and kissed the top of her head. “Naptime.”

  …

  When Jenna awoke, her body was on fire. She was sticky with perspiration, and her hair covered her face, neck, and shoulders in a suffocating cape. She moved to brush it out of her eyes and realized the heat wasn’t only external. She was aroused, hovering on the edge of orgasm. She kept her eyes shut and rubbed her thighs together, feeling as if the hum of the road was driving her. It wouldn’t take much to send her over the edge. What on earth had she been dreaming?

  Roman. Of course…always Roman.

  Bits and flashes came back to her. In the shower…on the porch…touching her, even in sleep…always hungry for her, every waking moment. She gazed at him, whispering…I love you…

  Her eyes flashed open and Roman was staring down at her, blue eyes intense, just like her dream. She cried out, waves of pleasure breaking over her, sweeping from her groin to her belly and breasts, arms and legs, lapping at her toes. She writhed, helpless in the grip of climax, and he held her, keeping her from falling off the limo seat, until she stopped shaking.

  She panted, body humming, and Roman chuckled. She heard a click, and the hum abruptly stopped. Her body sagged with relief. She had forgotten about the vibrating panties. He must have turned them on while she was sleeping, and the subtle stimulus had invaded her dreams. On its own, the vibrator might not have been powerful enough to do the job, but combined with her imagination, spectacular—and a little terrifying during that last bit. However, she had better things to think about while her cheek was pillowed on his erection.

  She stretched, rubbing against him.

  “Have fun?” he asked. “You slept the whole way.”

  “I did? We’re here?” Sure enough, tall buildings surrounded them. Flashing billboards reached to the sky, and people streamed everywhere. They moved through traffic at a snail’s pace. She checked to make sure the divider was up, blocking the driver’s view, and then slid into his lap, straddling him.

  “No time for that, I’m afraid.” The limo darkened as they pulled under the awning of a hotel.

  “That hardly seems fair.”

  “It shouldn’t take long to get our stuff settled into the kitchen, and I reserved a very special room.”

  “Let me guess…another well-stocked bedside table?”

  He smirked. “Something like that.”

  A polite knock sounded on the door. Jenna slid out of Roman’s lap just as the door opened and the sound of honking horns filled the car. Roman slid across the seat and got out of the limo, obviously eager to get started.

  She would have enjoyed another ten minutes alone with him, but she was ready to get this over with as well. Her mousses had turned out even better than she had hoped, and she couldn’t wait to send the finished desserts into the dining room. Since the menu was made up of classic French foods with whimsical touches from other cultures, she had continued the theme.

  Each of four cream puffs would be filled with a different mousse, caramel infused with green tea, white chocolate imbued with saffron, frangipane paired with vanilla bean, and her favorite, a chocolate, raspberry, and Brazilian coffee mash-up that was out of this world. She and Roman had spent hours perfecting the plate presentation and figuring out how to make spun sugar without covering the entire kitchen with sticky spiderwebs. Hence the newspaper she had gathered at the last minute and shoved in with their supplies. Sometimes the only way to get a job done properly was to make a huge mess and clean it up afterward.

  She got out of the limo to find Roman had commandeered a luggage cart and was loading their supplies onto it. She was awed by the hustle and bustle surrounding them, but he seemed perfectly at ease and focused. “Kitchen first.”

  She followed him as he guided the luggage cart into the hotel. Lights flashed and a solid wall of noise hit them as soon as they stepped into the casino. “Holy shit.”

  “No kidding. We’re in Vegas, baby.” His grin got wider. “Overstimulation is the name of the game.”

  He seemed to know exactly where to go, and her unease grew as he led her through the frenetic casino to an unmarked door. He gestured for her to open it while he maneuvered the cart into a long corridor. The door shut behind them, blocking out the noise, and she sighed in relief.

  The peace and quiet only lasted until they reached the kitchen, but at least this was a familiar kind of chaos. White-coated chefs called back and forth to one another as they chopped, stirred, and plated. There were several separate operations going on at the same time, and she wondered where they would fit into the mix.

  “Incoming,” Roman said under his breath, a second before a chef broke free from the busiest section of the kitchen and walked toward them.

  “Well, if it isn’t my favorite blast from the past.” The droll voice raised Jenna’s hackles even before she noticed the perfect makeup, sleek brown hair pulled back in a French twist, and perfectly tailored, white chef coat emblazoned with Alexandra Banks, Executive C
hef of the Castle, sharp counterpoints to Jenna’s zero makeup, limo-induced bedhead, and soaking wet panties. “I heard your good news. I suppose congratulations are in order, but I’ll just wait and send a sympathy card instead.”

  “Damn, Alex. Give it a rest,” Roman said sourly as she leaned up to kiss his cheek.

  “Never.” She winked then gave Jenna a broad smile. “You poor thing. Not too late to change your mind.”

  “It’s so nice to meet you, Alex,” Jenna said sweetly. She pointedly ignored the remark and linked her arm through Roman’s, staking her claim.

  The other woman laughed. “Let me show you where to store your things. What are you making again?” Alex asked, casting a glance over the boxes, as if they contained poison apples instead of innocuous puffs.

  “Individual chocolate croquembouches.”

  Her expression was easy to read. She wasn’t impressed.

  Jenna felt Roman stiffen beside her, and tension throbbed up the back of her neck. A cream puff, even a chocolate one, was unimpressive at first glance, but it was her favorite kind of dessert—ordinary on the outside, full of awesome on the inside. She’d wipe that supercilious smile off Alex’s face tomorrow night.

  It took another fifteen minutes to get settled in the kitchen, and Jenna was grateful for her lists because Alex’s scrutiny grew sharper every moment. When the puffs were safely in the freezer, the mousses refrigerated, and their other supplies stowed on an empty rack with a lock, Jenna and Roman retreated.

  She remained silent, fuming, following him as he rolled the luggage cart out of the kitchen, through the corridor, across the casino, and up to the front desk. Of course Alex was gorgeous. Jenna had anticipated that. But she hadn’t expected Roman to be so chummy with a woman he claimed to dislike. They’d chatted the whole time Jenna was putting away their supplies.

  Jenna gazed at the insanity surrounding them, feeling utterly lost. She never would have guessed she’d be intimidated by the loud casino and huge kitchen, and she didn’t like it.

  “Roman Gallagher.” He gave the clerk a big smile and her eyes brightened. Jenna sighed and shook her head in disgust while the clerk typed information into the keyboard. Roman Gallagher, playboy of the West Coast, strikes again.