Brandon already knew about her sordid past of growing up with an unwed teenaged mother and an unknown father. At the time, he hadn't seemed to care, but as it turned out, that was because he never intended to marry her. She couldn't believe he expected her to accept a position as his whore on the side once he was married to someone his snobby family considered worthy.
All the time they'd spent together the past few months came into her mind. She remembered all the intimate dinners in all those out of the way places. Now, she knew their secluded dining choices were not because Brandon wanted to romance her, but instead he was hiding her from his regular rich life with his social equals. The worst part was that she'd fallen for it.
If she were truthful with herself, she recognized the unsettled feeling she'd had these past few weeks with Brandon was warranted. Bits of information sifted through the embarrassment of their break up which, in retrospect, should have warned her that something was not quite right. It hadn't been quite right for some time now. She realized it was foolish to have expected him to propose to her tonight.
Brandon had never introduced her to any member of his family. Her boss Mr. Warner was a good friend of Brandon's, but she was not allowed to advertise their relationship to him. Brandon told her it was crass to flaunt their association publicly. Ellie had gone along with his strict, old-fashioned ideas regarding public displays of affection. She thought he loved her. In his own snobby way, Brandon probably did love her. However, she was proud enough not to accept the position of mistress where he'd thrust her. She never wanted to see him again. She wouldn't be anyone's mistress.
And then her gorgeous new neighbor had stepped in and graciously carried her all the way inside her apartment. She had taken the opportunity to kiss him.
Ellie told herself it was to soothe her bruised ego, but in truth, she'd wanted to put her lips on this gorgeous man for weeks, ever since the first time she'd seen him in the entry way and asked him if he wanted to dance. She didn't know his name, but she watched for him thereafter. She hadn't seen him again until tonight when he emerged from the darkness like a guardian angel dressed in black leather to rescue her from her own clumsiness.
The first time their lips touched, the feeling had been very sedate and nice. The second effort was very different.
During the most delectable kiss of her life, something happened, something extraordinary. She'd let him walk away as if he should be ashamed of what he'd done.
He told her he wouldn't apologize for it, but Ellie wasn't looking for him to say he was sorry. She just wanted to know how he made her come with a single kiss.
Her knight hadn't removed any of her clothing. His large hands hadn't even dipped below her belt. Unbelievable.
Women didn't climax during kisses. They just didn't. Still she shouldn't have freaked out and chased him away. He didn't do anything wrong.
Ellie owed her neighbor a huge apology. Embarrassed, she realized she hadn't bothered to get his name. She knew Keller and Gabrielle moved to a larger place, and her hero had sublet the apartment from them. She dug around her junk drawer, looking for the scrap of paper on which she'd written Gabrielle's new phone number.
He'd been her knight is shining black leather tonight. He helped her when she fell. He carried her after she was injured. Best of all, he kissed her all better and made her climax.
She should at least find out his name.
Chapter Four
Crag entered his apartment and paced the floor of his living room, trying to decide what to do. Did he need to do anything? Perhaps. He needed to know what to expect. Knowing he might live to regret it, he called Keller to ask his advice. The ingrate laughed out loud when Crag explained everything that had happened. He included the damning information of the second time he mouth touched Ellie, the one without his barrier in place.
"Do you remember what you said when I mouth touched Gabrielle the second time?” Keller asked.
Crag sighed. “No, but I'm certain you'll remind me right now."
"Okay, the truth is, I don't remember either, but you were very angry with me, and you sported a look like I was crazed or foolish. Now, perhaps you understand what drove me to it."
"Perhaps I do, but it doesn't help me. How can I explain to her? What should I do?"
"We're going to have to consult with Gabrielle..."
"No.” Anything but that.
"Crag, don't be foolish. There is no one else to ask."
"Well, then, tell her to be civil."
"Ha. That's a good one. You tell her. You're the one who mouth touched an earthling with your barrier down."
"Hi, Crag. Gabrielle here, I've been listening in on the extension. Of course I'll be nice to you. Just as nice as you were to me. Would you like a cup of tea for starters?"
She once again referred to the distant past when Crag had drugged her beverage and sent her back to Earth to save Keller from having to life partner with her. She brought it up at every opportunity. Crag understood she liked to provoke him as well.
"Gabrielle, are you going to help me or not?"
"Bring her flowers."
"Flowers?"
"Get a bouquet of flowers and take them to her tomorrow morning. Let her sleep on it for tonight. She'll fill in the blanks and figure out her own explanation for what happened. You need to let her do this. Are you planning a long-term affair with her?"
"I wasn't planning anything with her. I just don't want what's already happened to ... end badly."
"It may be too late, you know."
"Perhaps, but she seemed so upset..."
"Crag, you must listen to me. It's obvious you care for her. I watched you slobber over her when you stayed with us,” Gabrielle said.
"I did not slobber over her, puny earthling."
"Sure you did. You stared until my son finally captured your attention. That's the very definition of slobbering, Mr. Superior Militant Alien."
"I thought you said you were going to be nice."
Gabrielle's long-suffering sigh reached him over the communication device. “If you're planning a long-term affair, you will need to do different things, say different things, than if you merely wish to clear up the one body-rocking kiss you already delivered. Do you understand?"
"Yes, I think so."
"In the short term, take her flowers tomorrow and let her do all the talking. It was late. She'd just broken up with her boyfriend. You came to her rescue when she hurt her ankle. Her emotions were heightened when you carried her to her apartment."
"If you want me to repeat anything you just said, I'll need to take notes."
"No, it's what she will think up to say to you. You just nod and smile a lot, whatever she says. Agree with her in this one matter. Okay?"
"What if the relationship were to continue?"
"Are you going to tell her where you're from?"
"Of course not. I don't plan on making Earth my permanent domain."
"Then take care to keep your barrier in place if you put your lips on her anymore."
It was his turn to sigh. “As you wish."
"Would it really be so awful to make Earth your home, Crag?"
"I am the Commander at Arms for the Royal House of Tiburon. I come from a long line of warriors who have faithfully served the Queen or King through the last millennium. I'm not Keller. I will never give my post up permanently."
"Never say never, Crag,” she said. “And good luck tomorrow. I hope everything works out. I like Ellie. She's a very sweet person."
"I appreciate your thoughts on the matter, Gabrielle."
"You're welcome..."
In the background noise of the device he held, Crag heard the wail of an infant. Crag's heart contracted a little at the sound of Keller's domestic life. A loud click on the communication device terminated the connection.
The twin infant girls Gabrielle delivered the month before were wrenchingly beautiful. Keller was very fortunate in the choices he'd made. Crag staunched an immediate pa
ng of regret with a sudden fearful notion that he'd die alone with no one to miss him or carry on his line. This was completely foolish. He'd simply go back to Tiburon and find his life mate. How difficult could it be? He'd already mouth touched an earthling and felt more than ever before in his limited past. Surely there was a woman on Tiburon who could make him feel the same way.
Because he knew in his soul he wouldn't remain on Earth. Not for anyone.
Moments later Keller returned the call to ensure all of Crag's questions were answered. He then began a lengthy, unneeded repeat discourse on all the procedures and components for carnal activities on Earth. Crag managed an affirmative or negative grunt now and again as Keller lectured him.
Then he heard a noise. Was that a knock at his door?
* * * *
Ellie managed to knock on her hero's door before losing her nerve. She hugged closer to the doorframe to hide from other nosey tenants who might pop out and catch her. Her ankle was still tender, but she could walk on it without limping. She still trembled from the orgasm she'd experienced in the muscular arms of a total stranger.
He rescued her from humiliation, carried her home, kissed her until she came, and she let him walk out without a word. She hadn't found Gabrielle's new number, so she still didn't know his name. The man who gave her the most powerful orgasm in literally a year walked away after her petulance, and she'd let him go. She was probably a fool to be chasing him, but she couldn't stop herself.
After several minutes of severely berating herself, she'd gathered her courage and trailed him down to her friend's old apartment. A smart woman would have already tackled him at the front door, hauled his unconscious body into the apartment, and chained him to the nearest bed.
She raised her hand to knock again, but he opened the door abruptly. His eyes registered surprise. He motioned her inside while grunting brief responses into his cell phone.
Whoever he spoke with on the phone seemed to be doing all the talking. He closed the door behind her and leaned on it, effectively barring her escape should she change her mind.
Ellie pretended serenity and stepped further into his apartment, looking around the austere room. The furniture was sparse and obviously left from the former tenants. She recognized Gabrielle's old sofa. The rest of the space was neat if not full of worldly possessions. This man had ‘temporary resident’ practically stamped on his forehead. Ellie tried to back off on her judgment of him. She had no right to judge. He'd saved her from the humiliating result of her break up with Brandon, a pompous snob born with a silver spoon crammed in his mouth. The man who'd told her he loved her, and in the same breath, actually expected her to live as his mistress because he needed to marry someone more worthy of his social station.
Ellie glanced around her hero's space again and relaxed slightly. She was here to apologize, not rate him on the austere decorations of his apartment.
His seemingly temporary life only registered because, in some ways, she was reminded of the men who had shared her mother's life on a regular basis. Ellie never knew her real father, and her mother never talked about him.
Motorcycles, sparse furnishings, leather, and especially dangerous dark looks encompassed many of the traits her hero shared in common with the men frequenting her childhood in the form of ‘Uncles.’ If this stranger possessed a tattoo and planned on leaving in the near future, the picture would be identical.
Although she did notice his temperament was less abrasive than any of the men in her mother's past. And he was sexy as hell, too.
He completed his call and turned his ferocious gaze to her. His expectant look filled the space between them. She didn't know who looked more uncomfortable.
"I ... um ... wanted to say ... sorry..."
"Don't. You owe me no apologies. I'm sorry if I acted inappropriately."
"No, it was rude of me to chase you off. I don't even know your name.” She felt a blush warm her cheeks and looked away.
"That's because when I watch your mouth, I forget what my name is,” he said with self-deprecating humor.
Laughter bubbled through her.
"My name is Crag ... Tyler."
"Crag,” she repeated his name. “That's unusual. Crag. I like it."
"Thanks.” He was absolutely, hands down, the sexiest man she'd ever seen.
"I'm Ellie Granger,” she replied, then resisted the urge to stick out her hand to him. If he took it, she didn't think she'd be able to stop herself from planting her needy lips on him.
Somewhere. Anywhere. Everywhere.
And that wasn't why she'd come here. Was it?
"Pleased to meet you, Ellie.” He didn't extend his hand either. The thought of his hands on her, accompanied by a vivid sensual picture, slammed into her mind, and familiar heat rose in her face again.
"Is your ankle still sore?” His gaze ran down her body to her feet. Ellie remembered his warm hands stroking her calf directly before that amazing kiss. She felt the blush come into her cheeks again.
"No. It doesn't even hurt anymore."
"Good."
This man was dangerous to all of her aroused senses. If she were smart, she'd run like the devil was after her and lock herself in her bedroom. But she'd established earlier, she wasn't smart. Otherwise, this intriguing man would already be chained to her bed. This vibrant thought made her suck in a breath at another very erotic picture now playing on the movie screen of her underfed libido. It was time to change the subject to something more mundane.
"So, I see you haven't redecorated since Gabrielle and Keller moved out."
"No, I'm only here temporarily."
Of course he was only here temporarily. That left only the tattoo question to be resolved.
"Are they friends of yours, Gabrielle and Keller, I mean?"
"Yes, Keller is my very best friend from childhood."
"Where are you from again?” He had a slight accent she didn't recognize. Not Irish, but something European maybe.
"Far, far away.” He smiled as if it were a game not to let her know where he came from. It probably made it easier for him to make a clean getaway. Jeez. What was wrong with her? She'd come down to apologize for her rude behavior, not judge him for his apparent drifter lifestyle.
"Would you like something to drink?” he asked.
"Sure.” What the heck? She followed him to the kitchen.
"Where do you work, Crag?"
"I teach a class at the college."
"You're a professor like Keller?” She knew her voice sounded incredulous. She never had a teacher in college who looked like Crag, or Keller for that matter. Wherever they came from, the folks must be Amazon-like in height. Both men were nearly six and a half feet tall.
"No, not exactly. I help teach a night class in self defense three times a week.” He reached into the refrigerator and pulled out two bottles of Snapple strawberry lemonade.
"Is this acceptable?"
"Sure.” Never in her wildest dreams would she expect Snapple from a man like this. She'd been prepared to gag down a sip or two of beer.
"So, if you work part time, what do you do full time? Do you go to school?"
"No, I'm on what you call ... a sabbatical from my regular life."
"Trying to find yourself?” His quizzical look told her he didn't understand. The acrimonious childhood she'd led with her mother caused her to equate the phrase finding oneself immediately to, I'm too lazy to get a full-time job.
She twisted the lid off her drink and took a sip. It was sweet and tart, like her attitude tonight.
"No, I recognize precisely where I am,” he said as though he didn't like it here. She should quit judging him. She didn't know him.
A flash of their earlier kiss and her resulting physical response skated through her brain. Wouldn't you love to ‘know’ him though, in the biblical sense? asked a voice from her dark side. That same voice continued to throw vivid erotic pictures into her consciousness.
He wrenched the lid off his bot
tle and lifted the beverage to his mouth. Tilting his head back, he drank deeply. She watched, mesmerized by the movement of his muscles as he drank.
The kitchen light caught the glint of the blond in his hair, drawing her gaze to his head. What was the significance, she mused, of having the streak of blond in his dark hair? To make some sort of statement? Blatant rebellion? Because it was so sexy? Definitely, door number three.
He lowered the bottle and directed a rapacious gaze her way. She recognized that look. It was just like the one he'd given her earlier before kissing her breathless.
Ellie stepped closer to him as if magnetically drawn. What would he be like in bed? Based on her experience earlier, she suspected she'd need days to recover from a single night with him. She took a step closer to him, and the true reason she was here lodged in her brain.
She wanted ... no, needed to spend a night with a man like this. A man who could give her pleasure with no strings attached. She refused to be a mistress, but she was warming to the idea of a quick rebound relationship right about now. Then she could walk away without guilt.
She wasn't usually attracted to a man such as this, but she certainly could be. She never had the opportunity to meet knights in shining black leather in her daily life. She was the director of a prestigious and very exclusive art and antiquities gallery. She'd scraped herself up from nothing to acquire the life she enjoyed.
Rich influential people with surly attitudes surrounded her every day of her life. Why was she so attracted to this dark, dangerous looking man? Because he saved you after the humiliating break up with Brandon, and because his kisses make you climax, said the dark voice.
Right.
Why couldn't she allow herself this one night to experience a man simply because she wanted him? It wasn't like she had to marry him. It didn't make her a slut or a mistress ... or like her mother.
She missed the tender loving care of a man who knew what to do with a woman in bed. Had she ever felt that? Fleeting memories from too long ago faded in and right back out again. It was long past time for a new memory.
If Crag's kiss was any indication of his prowess in bed, well then, she wanted to be able to keep up and not disappoint him. She took a final, determined step, which placed her directly in his personal space. He didn't stop her, just watched her thoughtfully.
Just One Embrace [The Tiburon Duet, Book 2] Page 4
