Insatiable (Unrated! Book 6) Page 6

  “Well, far be it for me to make a promise and not keep it. I figured you were worn out after getting such a small amount of sleep last night, but...”

  She waggled her brows. “I’m never too tired for that.”

  “Guess I’d better get back to work then,” he said, rolling toward her, an indulgent smile on his face.

  “It’s work?”

  He nuzzled her neck, enjoying the brush of her silky hair against his cheek. “Only because it’s a job worth doing well.”

  She rolled onto her side to face him, sliding one long, slender leg between his, draping an arm across his shoulders. “I don’t want to be any trouble. I mean, heaven forbid you hurt yourself or something.”

  “Baby, if what we did on the desk didn’t hurt me, I should be able to handle one more round of ‘make a greedy woman come.’”

  Swatting him, she said, “I’m not greedy. I just appreciate a person who keeps his promises.”

  “Okay,” he said with a laugh, “but I fear you’re the one who’s math-challenged.”

  Licking her lips, she admitted, “The quantity was right.”

  He stiffened. “You complaining about my quality?”

  “God, no,” she said, vehemently shaking her head. “But I distinctly remember you saying twelve different ways.”

  Ahh, now he got it. “So I did.”

  “And while your tongue has a score of four all by itself, I don’t remember twelve completely unique situations.”

  Hmm. That was an interesting challenge. He did a quick recap in his mind, remembering the elevator, the foyer, the bar, the desk, the shower and the bed. Oh, this bed. It—with her nestled beside him—was rapidly becoming his favorite place in the world. They’d rolled around on it in position after position, pausing to sleep, stopping for a snack sometime around midnight, then playing and sleeping some more. It had been a night he would never—ever—forget.

  He intended to make this morning unforgettable, too.

  Twelve.

  “Well, I’ll have to do something about that, won’t I?” he said, already interested again in doing just that. His cock was still wet from their last joining, yet he was growing hard again. He felt like Superman, like a male virgin in a harem, like...like a thirty-year-old man who could still get it up eight times in a night. Christ, he might not be able to walk or take a piss for the next few days, but any sacrifices were entirely worth it.

  “I’ll understand if you’re just not up to it,” she said with a pitying smile.

  “Anybody tell you you’ve got a smart mouth?”

  “Only everybody who’s ever met me.”

  He leaned over and busied that mouth with a slow, deep kiss. They’d kissed over and over during the night hours, but still, every time his lips met hers, he felt a jolt of excitement course through him all over again.

  He wasn’t sure what to call it, but there was no doubt he’d fallen hard and fast into a sexual addiction for the woman in his bed. Her beauty had stunned him at first sight, her wit had interested him, her intelligence intrigued him. Her sensuality, however, had captured him, holding him in its grip, until he wasn’t sure if he was ever going to be the same again.

  Sex, certainly, would never be the same—not with anyone else. Right now, he couldn’t imagine of another woman on the planet who could tempt him away from the arms of his bewitching Vixen Viv. She had somehow made him forget all of his problems and daily stresses. With her, he became a creature of pure sensation. Damien couldn’t remember another night in his life when he’d been as sexually satisfied, as well as simply happy.

  “Roll over,” he murmured, suddenly envisioning a unique way he could pleasure her.

  She smiled lazily. “Well, as much as I like that, it’s not exactly something we didn’t do last night.”

  He managed to bite back a wolfish howl at those memories. “It’s not that. Just roll over.” He nibbled her jaw. “I’ll make you glad you did.”

  She licked her lips, eyeing him through a strand of soft, blond hair. “If you mean, uh...that is, I’ve never...”

  He laughed softly, immediately understanding what she was getting at. Embarrassed Viv was utterly charming. “No condoms, remember?” he reminded her. “No, I don’t have to fuck your gorgeous ass to make you come again.”

  She hissed out a breath, that flush rising higher. Now, though, it wasn’t embarrassment. She was interested, intrigued. Holy shit, the woman continued to amaze him. Admitting flat out what he wanted turned her on, and could say the same thing about himself. But he hadn’t expected her to be so open to utterly any possibility. Even one he hadn’t really been talking about.

  “You really are wicked, aren’t you?” he asked, admiration mixing with laughter in his tone.

  “You’d better believe it.”

  “Good. Then roll over.”

  Sighing happily, she did, presenting him with a beautiful back, each delineated vertebrae demanding attention. The curves of that pert butt stopped his heart, and her shapely legs seemed long enough to wrap around him twice.

  He moved over her, nudging her legs apart and lying between them. But while she lifted her hips invitingly, silently inviting him to slide right into all that juicy heat, he had something else in mind.

  Not that he hadn’t loved taking her like this last night. His front to her back, both of them on their knees, or once while they stood outside on the patio, overlooking the Potomac and the Capitol dome. She’d gripped the railing, he’d gripped her hips and they’d done all but bay at the moon.

  Still...that lucky number twelve called.

  He began to kiss his way down her spine, tasting the tiny indentations, nibbling each curve and line. When he reached the base, he paused, tormenting her. He knew she was wondering what he was up to, that she was waiting for him to move up, to glide into her soft heat from behind.

  He didn’t. Instead, he moved down, sliding his tongue along her coccyx, and farther.

  She hissed. “What are you...?”

  “Shh. I’m going for the even dozen here.”

  She glanced over her shoulder at him, and he offered her a wicked smile as he lifted her hips up. His steady gaze demanded she let him do what he wanted. She held his look, silent, her expression torn between shock and primal hunger. Her throat worked as she swallowed, hard, and she caught her lip between her teeth. Convention was telling her to close her legs, roll over, create some distance.

  Excitement made her remain exactly where she was.

  He smiled at her, nodding his approval that she was following him where he led.

  “You taste delicious, every inch of you is sweet,” he whispered, meaning it.

  Then he got serious, exploring her with his lips, his tongue, his fingers. She was whimpering into the pillow. But he knew by the way she arched her spine, lifting herself for him, that she loved every naughty bit of what he was doing to her. She was shaking with it, her body a quivering bowstring of tension and heat. By the time he slid his lips against her warm, wet opening, she was moaning, and when he moved down to tongue her hard clit, she let out a tiny scream.

  He doubted she even heard him whisper, “Twelve.” But then, considering he immediately moved up to plunge into her, losing himself in the delights of her body, there was no need to brag.

  This was lazy and slow, slippery limbs entwining as he pressed kisses to her neck and her shoulders. And after they climaxed again, she turned in his arms and curled in close, yawning and nuzzling against him like a sleepy cat that had drunk up all the cream and now just wanted a nap.

  He stared at her for a while, watching her beautiful face relax in sleep, wondering how it was possible he hadn’t even known she existed twenty-four hours ago. Because, right now, he feared his mind would crack if she walked out the door and he never saw her again.
>
  For a man who’d long ago decided he wasn’t cut out for relationships, the realization stunned him.

  Eventually, he drifted off, falling into a heavy sleep, their bodies still glued together. When he next opened his eyes, he was shocked to glance at the bedside clock and see it was after ten. He hadn’t slept this late in years.

  “Oh, my,” she said, following his gaze toward the clock. “I guess there won’t be any sneaking out of here at dawn, avoiding that walk of shame through the lobby in my rumpled clothes.”

  He frowned, not liking the image for any number of reasons. “Don’t say that. Shame has no part in this.”

  “Because I’m shameless?”

  He chuckled, letting her get away with keeping things light and sexy. He suspected she’d heard the serious note in his voice and knew he’d been about to insist they give up on the idea of this being some kind of one-night stand.

  “Maybe we both are. Maybe that’s what makes us so well matched.”

  She licked her lips. “A perfect pair, huh?”

  “Something like that.”

  “So what’s the next step?”

  “I don’t want you to walk out of here.”

  “Are you planning to carry me? Because I’m not a lightweight.”

  He chuckled. She wasn’t going to give up easily. “I’ve already carried you, remember?” A warm, sultry smile said she did. But it disappeared when he added, “I want you to stay.”

  “Indefinitely? The hotel might have other people who want this room at some point.”

  “I’ll extend my reservation.”

  “What if somebody’s already claimed it?”

  “I’ve heard if you don’t leave a hotel room, they can’t kick you out as long as you keep paying.”

  She giggled. “I suspect your credit card would max out pretty quickly at these prices.”

  He would eventually explain his connection to Black Star, and the fact that he always had a penthouse reserved in any location, but still wasn’t quite ready to bring his money into their relationship. “Maybe.”

  “And sooner or later you have to return to...where did you say you’re from? Miami?”

  “Yeah,” he admitted with a sigh, not wanting to think about going home. Because the address imprinted on his driver’s license wasn’t home to him in any way, shape or form, and hadn’t been for a long time. Not since his world had been upended by his dad’s death twelve years ago.

  Being only eighteen when he’d lost his father, Damien had immediately set out to get away from a home that had lost its heart and soul. If his mother had been cold before, she’d hardened into a piece of ice by that point. But she’d been particularly frigid to Damien. So he’d had to get away. He’d gone to the best schools—all out of state—and had then traveled from city to city, country to country.

  He didn’t require a shrink to tell him it had all been an effort to avoid returning to the place so strongly associated with the person he missed most in the world. A place that had been coopted by someone he simply couldn’t get along with—his own mother—and her subsequent succession of husbands. Each relationship proved even more to him that his bloodline just wasn’t capable of true love and lifelong devotion.

  So, no. The Miami estate where he’d been raised wasn’t home. It was merely an address. Frankly, living out of this hotel room for a year, with the woman lying beside him, sounded much more appealing than spending a single night in a house he was no longer comfortable in, even if his grandfather’s will had given him full ownership of it. Something else his mother had never forgiven him for.

  Maybe that was why he was so anxious for his new business to succeed. The resentment his own mother had exhibited toward him—even though he’d kept the family hotel dynasty in the black, and her in diamonds as icy cold as her personality—was hard to take. Though he’d loved them both, he’d felt trapped by his father and by his grandfather. Trapped into fulfilling their dreams, and not his own.

  Was it so wrong to want to steal a few days out of his own life to do something he really wanted to do?

  “Where did you go?” she asked softly, sensing his distraction.

  “Just...memories.”

  “Not very happy ones?”

  He shrugged. “It is what it is.”

  “That’s such a cop-out phrase.”

  He rose onto an elbow and stared down at her, unable to prevent a grin at her eye roll and huffy breath. “Is that so?”

  “That’s so. Nothing is what it is, not if you’re willing to work hard to change it.”

  “You believe there’s nothing that can’t be changed...fixed?”

  “Nothing.”

  “I’ll try to keep that in mind,” he said, making a mental note. Then he shook off the family memories; there was no place for them now. His business in Arlington was only supposed to take a day or two. He’d have to return to Miami to deal with the company, and the Black family, sooner or later. But he’d make it as late as possible if it meant he could indulge himself with this beautiful woman for a while longer.

  “To the point,” he said. “I’m not in a huge hurry to fly home to Florida. You could stay with me while I’m here.”

  “Hmm. A wealthy businessman wants me to stay with him in his opulent hotel suite while he’s in town.” A wry grin tugged at that lush mouth. “That sounds awfully familiar. I think I saw it in a movie starring Julia Roberts and Richard Gere.”

  He immediately caught the reference and barked a laugh. “Well, you are a very pretty woman.”

  “Plus my name is Viv, just like hers, and I’m unemployed and broke. Unfortunately, though, I’m not a hooker.”

  “I’m glad. I’d never be able to afford you.”

  She smiled, hearing the compliment. “Lucky for you I’m an amateur, then.”

  “Doubly lucky. I’d die if I weren’t allowed to kiss you on the mouth.”

  It took her a moment, then she realized what he meant. “You really know your chick flicks. I’d forgotten about that part of the movie.”

  “I have sisters, remember? And speaking of kisses...”

  He leaned toward her and pressed his mouth to hers, kissing her good-morning, trying to distract her from where he suspected she was taking the conversation—toward their one-night-stand agreement and her determination to leave. Goodbye was the last thing he wanted her to say. Good morning, good afternoon, good night...hell, Merry Christmas and Happy New Year. It might take months to get her out of his system.

  That didn’t mean he was contemplating forever. Months was about the longest commitment he could possibly envision, even with a woman as intoxicating as this one.

  She tasted warm, soft and sweet, and reminded him that he really—really—enjoyed kissing. When it finally ended and they drew apart, she let out a tiny sigh and returned to the unpleasant topic at hand.

  “We had a deal. One night. Remember?”

  “You know what they say about deals...”

  “Never welsh on one?”

  “Anything can be renegotiated.”

  “You sound like a businessman.”

  “I am a businessman.”

  He kissed her again, holding her close, tracing his palm down her spine, caressing each soft curve and vulnerable hollow.

  “You’re trying to distract me,” she eventually whispered.

  “Is it working?”

  “Depends on what you hope to accomplish.”

  “I’m hoping to get you to stay,” he admitted.

  “I do still have a home. I’m not desperate.”

  “Never thought you were. But maybe I am.” He kissed her again, demanding, trying to get her to take a chance. “Don’t go,” he insisted. “Just stay and we’ll see what happens.”

  She didn�
�t immediately relent. Viv, as he’d already realized, was no pushover. “I can’t think when you kiss me like that,” she said, sounding disgruntled. “Go do something and let me pull my brain cells back into place.”

  He barked a laugh. “What should I do?”

  “How about you call room service and get us some breakfast while I take a shower.”

  “That shower is enormous. Plenty big enough for two. Remember?”

  She should. They’d taken a long, steamy shower last night.

  She swatted his arm. “I’ll take my own shower this time, thank you very much. I’m pretty sure I still have soap in my, uh...in some uncomfortable places from last night. You’re good at lathering but not so hot at rinsing.”

  “There wasn’t an inch of you I didn’t take care of.”

  Licking those swollen, kiss-reddened lips, she breathed deeply. Remembering. Silently admitting he was right.

  But she didn’t relent, and instead scooted toward the opposite side of the bed.

  He didn’t argue or try to restrain her. Damien knew he had to give her what she was asking for. Space. Hopefully enough space so she wouldn’t feel pressured and would decide to stay. “All right, you win.”

  This battle, anyway. Damien, however, intended to win the war. He usually got what he wanted, and right now, there was nothing more he wanted in the world than Viv Callahan—at least for the near future.

  “Thank you,” she said, her long lashes drifting half-closed over those startlingly blue eyes. Her tiny smile said she was glad he hadn’t pressured her.

  While she went into the bathroom to shower, he pulled on a robe and glanced over the room service menu. Calling down for breakfast, he ordered a bit of everything, since he wasn’t sure what she would want. Adding Bloody Marys and champagne to the order, he hung up and went into the living room to wait. He doubted the delivery would take long. The staff was aware of his identity, and had been trying to impress him since the minute he’d arrived. Case in point—the elevator security guys.

  He might just have to give them a bonus.