Seductive Nights Trilogy

by Lauren Blakely

  She shook her head in amusement. The things men said in bars never surprised her, nor did she ever put any faith in them. Something about his name felt familiar though. Glen Mills. The named nagged at her brain for a spell, and she turned it over several times, like a strange object she could decipher if she looked at it from another angle, but she couldn’t recall where she’d heard it before, so she let it go.

  * * *

  She could picture him perfectly when he told her he was crashed out on his couch, his shoulders sore in the way he liked from a hard workout tonight. She imagined him freshly showered, in shorts and a T-shirt, a combo she rarely saw her sharp-dressed man in, but a fantastic look nonetheless.

  “Tell me why you like boxing,” Julie said, as she closed the door to the tiny office at Cubic Z, slipping away for a short break while Kim handled the bar during a quiet time. She was spending her rare free minutes her favorite way. Talking to Clay. It wasn’t the same as being in the room with him, but he was a far better phone date than any in-person date she’d ever had with another man. Though, he didn’t call these stolen chats dates. He didn’t call them anything. Maybe because the two of them were so undefined right now. They took what they could get from each other, but didn’t push too far.

  “Because I have to use my mind and my body,” he said.

  “Mmm. Two of the things I like about you.” She sank down into the office chair, leaning back against it, letting his voice warm her. “And how do you use your mind when you’re hitting a bag?”

  “You have to focus with boxing. You have to know exactly where to land a punch, and then deliver on it.”

  “How did you get into boxing in the first place?”

  “In high school.”

  “I thought you played football in high school?”

  “I did. But I had no choice about boxing. Brent did it.”

  “And that meant you had to?”

  “Can’t let my little brother beat me. I had to keep up with him. Wouldn’t let him have the chance to win. So I took it up too.”

  “I can beat McKenna if I have to,” Julia joked.

  “Girl fight. Don’t get me excited,” he said playfully.

  “But I like getting you excited.”

  “And you’re very good at it. You excel at that,” he said, then paused and she heard the slightest rustling sound.

  “You stretching out on the couch?”

  “I’m making myself more comfortable.”

  “Do your shoulders still hurt?”

  “A little.”

  She sighed wistfully, her eyes fluttering closed as she imagined being there with him, soothing out the soreness from the punches he’d thrown. “If I were there I’d rub your shoulders for you. You could lean back into me and I’d make you feel better.”

  “Mmm…I bet you would.”

  “You can rest your head between my legs while I massage you.”

  He laughed. “If I’m between your legs, there’s no massaging going on. Unless it’s of you and with my tongue.”

  She smiled and rolled her eyes. “Always able to make things dirty, aren’t you, Clay?”

  “If you’re going to start talking about being between your legs, I’m going to start telling you what I’d be doing if I were there, and it wouldn’t be lying still.”

  “What would it be?” She asked, unable to resist drawing out his naughty mouth.

  “Wait. I would be lying still, now that I think about it,” he said, quickly correcting himself.

  “Oh really?”

  “Yes, really. Because I’m tired, but I’m never to tired to eat you. I’d just need you to ride my face,” he said. Hot tingles roared down her body at the memory of the ways he’d buried his face between her legs. On the chaise lounge in her bar after closing time the night they met, in the town car when she’d arrived in New York for their weekend together, and tied up on his bed, her ass in the air. Heat flooded her center, and she was going to need to change her panties before she went back out to work if this kept up.

  “But maybe I want to do things to you,” she said, taking the reins, so she didn’t turn into a puddle of molten heat.

  “All right. Have at me. What do you want to do to me?”

  Her ears tuned into the noises from beyond the door. It sounded like more customers had just come in. She’d need to get back out there soon.

  “Besides rub your shoulders and run my fingers through your hair?”

  “Yes. Besides that.”

  “My favorite thing,” she said in a sexy whisper, closing her eyes and picturing exactly what she wanted to do to him.

  “What’s your favorite thing, Julia? Tell me. I want to hear you say it.”

  “Tasting you.”

  He groaned, and she was sure his hand was already on his cock.

  “Taking you in my mouth. Doing all sorts of things to you with my lips and tongue.”

  “What sort of things?”

  “Taking you deep the way you like. Licking you all over. Using my hands everywhere on you.”

  “Everywhere?” he asked, and she could practically see him arching an eyebrow.

  “Everywhere you’d want me to,” she said, and soon his breathing intensified. “Are you touching yourself?”

  “You leave me no choice when you talk about sucking me. I love those sexy lips of yours wrapped around my dick.”

  “And you love using your hands on me too while you’re in my mouth. Grabbing my hair, pushing your fingers through it, pulling me closer to you.”

  “Making sure you take me hard,” he growled.

  “Of course. I want to make sure I rock your world with my mouth.”

  He drew a sharp breath, and she could tell he was getting close. “You do, Julia. You do.”

  “I can almost taste you right now,” she said in a hot whisper, wanting to bring him there.

  “You should be able to any second now,” he said, breathing out hard, and groaning loudly.

  She grinned widely, thrilled that she’d gotten him off like this. “You taste so fucking good,” she said.

  He sighed deeply, the sound of a contented man. She loved that she’d found a way to satisfy him even from this kind of distance. “Your turn,” he said in that deep, sexy voice that sent sparks through her.

  She shook her head even though he couldn’t see her. “I need to get back to work. It’s getting busy.”

  “Next time then. Because I want to hear you let go,” he said, and a hot wave rolled through her as she pictured their nights on the phone, and how he drew out her cries of pleasure. “I love how you let go when you touch yourself.”

  “Why would I do anything else?”

  “I want you to let go with me.”

  “I do, Clay. I’ve never held back.”

  “I don’t mean sex. I mean other ways. I want you to be as free with me in other ways as you are when you’re naked.”

  “I want that too. I swear I do,” she said, and she was sure her neediness was coming through loud and clear. But she needed him to know. “I miss you.”

  “Yeah?” he asked, sounding doubtful.

  “So much. I wish you were here with me.”

  He sighed heavily. “I wish I could be,” he said, but it didn’t sound as if he were wishing he could be there right now so he could touch her. More like he was wishing he would allow himself to be close to her again. Because in spite of all their late-night chats, and all the things they shared, there was a distance between them more palpable than the miles. She’d been getting to know him better, and yet, she had never felt farther away from him than she did now. “I have to go,” he said, and now it was possible to feel even more distant.

  When their call ended, she knew it couldn’t go on much longer like this; this in-between state was wonderful and thoroughly unsatisfying at the same time.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Before the wedding she played another poker game. She was on some kind of streak the last few weeks, and she won most ni
ghts. “I only have $10,000 left,” she said to Charlie at the end of the cash out. She couldn’t hide the smile that curved her lips.

  “You can count. But I also gave you a deadline and you have two more weeks to clear it.”

  “May isn’t over yet,” she said through gritted teeth.

  “You could always ask your sister. I did a little research on her business. Seems she sold it for a pretty penny. Or perhaps you could just transfer your debt to the peppy Fashion Hound,” he said, narrowing his eyes as he crisply punctuated the name of McKenna’s fashion blog, making it clear he knew everything about the people she cared about. “I could find all sorts of ways for her to work for me. She has a nice dog, too.”

  Julia snapped, lunging for Charlie’s throat in the restaurant. “Leave my sister and her dog out of this.”

  He cackled, grabbing her hands and flicking them off his skin. “I won’t have to involve anyone if you do your job, Red.”

  She was tempted to ask McKenna for a loan, but she’d gotten this far on her own. She’d managed to keep her sister and Kim and everyone she loved out of Charlie’s crosshairs. You don’t run the first twenty-five miles of a marathon to send reinforcements in to finish the last mile. Even if that last mile feels like five hundred.

  “I will do my job if it’s the last damn thing I do,” she said, and some days it felt like it would be. Like she’d be under his thumb until the day she died.

  * * *

  “Perfect.”

  Gayle rested her hands on Julia’s shoulders, admiring her work in the mirror. “Want to see the back?”

  “Hell yeah,” Julia said, and Gayle swiveled her around and held up a silver hand mirror for her to use to see the French twist.

  “I love it,” she said, carefully touching the tendrils that fell on her neck.

  “You do?”

  “Of course! I love everything you do.”

  “Don’t mess it up on the drive to the Presidio,” Gayle said, wagging a finger playfully in admonishment, though she surely meant the directive too. Hairstyles were to be taken seriously.

  “It’s fifteen minutes away! What do you think I’m going to do? Hang my head out the limo window like a dog?”

  “If you do that please make sure everyone knows I was not responsible for the mess. I only want credit for the good hair days,” Gayle said.

  “Thank you for coming in early for me on a Saturday to do this, when you’re not even working,” Julia said, gesturing to the empty salon. The front door was locked.

  “Anything for you. Now I’ll walk you out. And by the way, I want an update on your guy.”

  Her guy. Was Clay her guy? She didn’t know what he was, except a sexy voice on the end of the phone. She’d gotten to know more about him in this last month from their easy chatter and conversations, and everything she learned made her long for him more. They never talked about a relationship. Never brought up seeing each other. Actual contact was off the table; they were only phone buddies.

  But she didn’t have time to fashion an answer to Gayle’s question because when she opened the door to Fillmore Street, Skunk was pacing on the sidewalk like a big bored lion, walking back and forth in a zoo.

  The hair on the back of her neck prickled in worry. Of all the days for Charlie to harass her. The bastard. A sister’s wedding day should be a sacred one. A day even Charlie could respect.

  Gayle didn’t notice him at first while she locked up. Then she turned around, and Skunk spoke to the hairdresser.

  “I was hoping I could get a haircut,” he said gesturing to the salon with its pretty feminine windows decorated with silhouettes of women. This was clearly a salon catering mostly to the fairer sex, though Julia had seen a few men inside from time to time. They didn’t look like Skunk, though. They weren’t big beefy men with faces like slabs of meat, and ankle holsters holding guns. The men who walked through these doors were metrosexuals. Her eyes darted to his feet, and she saw the barest outline of his weapon. He never left home without it.

  “We’re closed now. Open again in an hour,” Gayle said. “Someone will be here then to cut your hair.”

  “I’d really like one now,” he said, then scrunched up his nose, squeezed shut his eyes, and covered his face with a hand as he sneezed so loudly it sounded like a honk. His forehead was sweaty, and he looked pale.

  “I’m sure you do, sweetie, and ordinarily I’d open right up for you,” she said in her best calm voice as she dipped a hand into her purse. She quickly found a tissue, and gave it to Skunk. He took it and muttered a thanks. “But I need to get some coffee in me, and if I don’t my hands might be unsteady. So why don’t you come back and someone else can take care of you then?”

  He blew his nose, then rubbed the tissue across it. His eyes looked red and watery. “Or, maybe go home, take a hot bath and have some tea and come back tomorrow? You might be getting a nasty cold, honey.”

  “I think I have the flu,” he said.

  “Here.” She reached in her pocket for a slip of paper and handed that to him. “A twenty percent off coupon, just for you. For when you’re feeling better. You go get in bed and take care of that flu.”

  Skunk relented, nodding. “Thank you. I’ll be back.”

  He lumbered away, and Julia had a sinking feel that I’ll be back referred to something other than where he’d be an hour from now.

  They were circling her, trying to trip her up however they could.

  Charlie had sent this message—his sick way of letting her know he’d uncovered another soft spot of hers in her friendship with her stylist. His subtle, or not-so-subtle way of reminding her that he had no mercy. He was willing to do whatever it took to get his money by his deadline.

  The deadline was looming ever closer.

  * * *

  Julia pet her sister’s dog over and over, as if the animal might have a calming effect. Dogs sometimes did that, right? Settled nerves and made people happier. She needed some of that right now, so she sat on the edge of the antique white couch stroking Ms. Pac-Man’s soft fur, hoping it would turn these jitters inside her belly into a thing of the past.

  She wasn’t even the one walking down the aisle. She was the damn maid-of-honor and she was supposed to reassure the bride. But McKenna was ready, eager, and not a wink nervous, while all Julia could think about was the ticking clock. She’d texted Gayle a few times, ostensibly about her hair, but really to make sure her stylist was fine. Gayle was getting ready for an Arcade Fire concert, she’d said, so all was well.

  Still, Julia couldn’t help feeling as if someone was watching her. Waiting for her. Poised to take her down.

  Focus on the bride.

  Decked out in a vintage-style tea-length dress, McKenna applied her lip gloss then twirled once in front of the antique, gilded mirror in her suite at the swank Golden Gate Club in the Presidio, a coveted venue for weddings with its view of the San Francisco Bay and the Golden Gate Bridge.

  “You look so beautiful, and this dress is so completely you,” Julia said, even though she’d seen it many times. But that was her job—to shower the bride with extravagant compliments on her wedding day. It would also force her mind off the heightened state of panic inside her body.

  “You’re next, Jules,” she said, and Julia scoffed.

  She didn’t even know how to respond. The notion of her being married was so foreign, her sister might as well be talking about orbiting Saturn right now. “Let’s get you down the aisle,” she said.

  Julia washed her hands one final time. Yes, Ms. Pac-Man had had a pre-wedding bath, but even so she didn’t want scent of a pooch on her as she held a bouquet. She grabbed her daisies, the perfect flowers for McKenna’s sunny disposition, and held open the door for the other bridesmaids: McKenna’s good friends Hayden and Erin, and Chris’s sister, Jill, who had flown out from New York for the weekend, taking two days off from her starring role in the musical Crash the Moon.

  They headed to the expansive grounds, across the
rolling green hills, to the bluff overlooking the water. The waves lolled peacefully against the shore in the distance, and the afternoon sun warmed them. The weather gods were on their side today—the sky was a crystal blue, and there was no wind. A rare blessing in this windiest of cities, and Julia was grateful.

  White chairs were spread across the lawn, and their friends and family were there. Julia spotted Davis in the second row, and instantly her thoughts flicked to Clay. The two men were best friends, and she found herself wondering if her name had ever come up in their conversations.

  The music began and the other bridesmaids walked down the white runner spread out on the lawn. Julia turned to McKenna and whispered in her ear. “I love you. I’m so happy for you,” she said, then she squeezed her hand.

  “I love you too,” McKenna said, and her voice threatened to break. Julia reached out, and gently wiped the start of a happy tear from her sister’s eye. “Don’t ruin your mascara.”

  “I won’t.”

  Julia took her turn down the runner, thrilled to finally see this day arrive. Though it hadn’t been a lengthy engagement—in fact it had been markedly short, clocking in at two mere months—this was a day that she’d longed to see. Nearly two years ago, the man McKenna had been involved with dumped her via voicemail twenty-four hours before their wedding, leaving her with a houseful of mixers, pasta makers and place settings she’d never use. Her sister had been devastated. Chris wasn’t like that, not in the least, but Julia had asked a few days ago if she’d had any lingering worries.

  “You nervous at all now that it’s so close?”

  “Nope. I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life,” McKenna had said.

  She looked it, too, radiant in her joy today.

  When Julia reached the raised stage, her throat hitched, and a tear slipped down her cheek as she turned to watch McKenna walk down the aisle. She delighted at the song that filled the air. McKenna hadn’t picked Pachelbel’s Canon or the wedding march. She’d chosen hers and Chris’s song—Can’t Help Falling in Love.

  That was the best kind of love, wasn’t it? The kind where the love was its own entity, a living, breathing presence between two people, demanding to be felt. A life force of its own. That’s what her sister and Chris had, and her heart soared with happiness that McKenna had found the one.