CHAPTER THREE

‘I GUESS THAT ’ S my cue to leave,’ Charley murmured as the last of the red, white and blue fireworks died in the night sky.

‘So soon?’ Cade replied, his hand warm on her lower back as he pulled her against him to avoid the couples heading back into the garden.

‘It’s nearly midnight,’ she said, basking in the focussed gaze she had been basking in all evening...the jolt of awareness getting harder and harder to ignore.

Who knew? Cade Landry really was Sir Galahad.

He’d shepherded her around for over two hours, introducing her to female entrepreneurs and businesspeople—as well as a number of wives and girlfriends of the male business people he knew—whose contact details she now had safely secured in her phone. The boost to her business from this evening’s networking offensive would be invaluable, and Cade Landry had facilitated it. Even though she’d realised he wasn’t much of a social animal. He didn’t seem uncomfortable so much as aloof. And from the surprise on a lot of people’s faces—including their hosts when Charley had eventually thanked Cassandra in person—she’d gathered he rarely showed at events like this one.

But she had to admit it wasn’t her business initiatives she had been thinking of every time he rested his palm casually on her waist, or smiled that sensual smile full of masculine approval while telling people to check out her dress.

‘Which makes it approximately eight in the morning UK time,’ she finished, trying to focus on all the reasons why she needed to leave now.

She had a cheap motel booked near the marina which was calling her name. Even though she didn’t feel remotely tired, because the giddy excitement of being the sole focus of Cade Landry’s attention for the evening had become more than a little addictive.

But Cade hadn’t made a move, and she wasn’t entirely sure now if she had read his signals all wrong. Was he into her, or was he just being helpful to a fellow businessperson? Because apart from those small, incidental touches, he hadn’t made any significant attempts to come on to her since they’d danced their hearts out.

She’d assumed he wanted her...but what did she really know about reading signals? Given that she’d always been so awful at sex? And she hadn’t even had any since the first time she’d tried to kiss him...which had been a complete disaster.

‘I appreciate everything you’ve done for me this evening,’ she said, her excitement deflating. ‘I wouldn’t have had the guts to approach most of those people. It was very generous of you. You’re actually a nice guy, Sir Galahad,’ she teased, covering the flicker of inadequacy.

You don’t need his approval, Charley.

His lips twisted in a wry smile. ‘The one thing I’m not, Charlotte, is nice,’ he said. ‘But I made you a promise earlier in the evening, and I never break my word.’

‘Okay,’ she said, the tension almost as delicious as the sudden spurt of anticipation.

He ran his knuckle down the side of her face. The possessive touch had the endorphins she’d been keeping in check exploding through her system like the fireworks display they’d just witnessed.

‘I’d like you to come home with me tonight,’ he said, his gaze filling with the molten heat she’d noticed while they danced but had since assumed she must have imagined. The sensual smile made her insides clench. ‘But if you’re too jet-lagged, or you’re just not that into me, I can escort you wherever you want to go.’

‘That’s...direct,’ she whispered, trying desperately not to throw herself at him—something she could acknowledge now she had wanted to do, ever since he had guided her so sensually through the dance. And she’d let him.

That she hadn’t read his intentions wrong was even more intoxicating. But something about the insistent pulsing in her sex felt too much like that out-of-control girl.

‘Direct is how I roll,’ he said. ‘When I want something.’ He hooked a tendril of hair behind her ear. The casual, oddly possessive gesture made the hunger flare and throb. ‘And tonight I want to taste every inch of you and make you moan.’ His voice dropped to a husky purr. ‘But you need to be sure that’s what you want, too.’

It was supposed to be a question. But it didn’t sound like one, because her body was already desperate for his touch and had been ever since she’d turned in the garden hours ago to find him watching her...maybe even before that. Maybe even dating right back to that reckless girl who had looked for approval in sex and never found it.

He was the only man who had ever said no to her, she realised—which made his desire for her now all the more exciting. And validating.

‘I want you, too’ she admitted, because she’d never been coy.

‘Thank God,’ he said, the scorching heat in his gaze making her realise it had cost him to hold back. ‘Then let’s get the hell out of here.’

But when he clasped her fingers and strode from the terrace, heading through the house towards the front lawn, the swirl of anticipation in her gut tangled with familiar insecurities.

As they arrived at the valet station and a shiny black SUV appeared, she tugged her hand free.

The sound of the band starting the late-night set floated over the night air but did nothing to calm Charley’s nerves. Her life had come full circle since their meeting in Vegas. But it had been years now—four years, to be precise—since she’d been intimate with anyone. And she’d never been any good at it.

‘If you’ve changed your mind, I can take you home,’ he said, more perceptive than she would have expected.

‘I haven’t changed my mind...’ she managed around the growing ball of embarrassment wedged in her throat. ‘I’m just...’

Good grief, how do you explain to a man who could probably make most women come at thirty paces that you have never had a satisfying sexual experience?

‘I’m just not very good at one-night stands...so if you’re expecting a sex goddess,’ she babbled, ‘you’re going to be disappointed.’

Rather than looking appalled, Cade’s gaze sharpened, and the heat in his eyes flared. The hot brick between her thighs started to pound.

‘Just to be clear, Charlotte.’ A confident smile curved his lips. ‘No one’s going to be grading you on your performance in my bed, either.’

‘Good to know,’ she mumbled.

Fabulous, Charley. Why not just tell him you’re a terrible lay without telling him you’re a terrible lay?

‘And I happen to be a goal-oriented overachiever who always rises to a challenge,’ he added. ‘So we’re good.’

A laugh burst out of her mouth, his comment so arrogant it somehow managed to be self-deprecating at the same time.

‘And let’s not forget an ego the size of Pluto,’ she said, the knot of embarrassment in her throat releasing.

‘Yup,’ he said. ‘Which, luckily for you, happens to be well-earned.’

She was still chuckling as she climbed into the passenger seat—and the hot, liquid rush of anticipation gushed into her panties.

It was a thirty-minute drive from the Broussards’ place to Cade’s condo in the Embarcadero. It might as well have taken ten years.

Cade kept his eyes on the road, inhaling Charlotte’s intoxicating scent—which had been torturing him all evening—as he wound through the leafy suburbs of Marin County, passed over the Bay on San Francisco’s iconic Golden Gate Bridge, then took the 101 through the Presidio, up and down the famous streets of Pacific Heights and Nob Hill and into the built-up areas of downtown. By the time he pulled into the parking garage behind the Ferry Building, the tension in his gut was on a knife edge...

The vintage R&B station he’d found on the radio had done nothing to chill the heat in his gut ever since Charlotte had climbed into his car.

Hell, ever since she’d agreed she wanted him, too. And then told him, with that wary candour, she was no sex goddess—which had to be code for All the guys I’ve slept with have been selfish bastards.

He hadn’t lied. He loved a challenge. And he had always been goal-oriented, plus the chemistry between them was nothing short of explosive.

But the hunger which had gripped him ever since they’d danced together had only got worse over the last couple of hours. He had to get a handle on it before he got her naked if he was going to make good on his promise and show her a good time.

He switched off the ignition. Marvin Gaye’s sweet soul voice dropped into a charged silence. The heat surged as Charlotte released a careful breath.

‘San Francisco is a beautiful city,’ she murmured. ‘How long have you lived here?’

‘I don’t,’ he said. ‘I mostly live in Manhattan, but I keep the condo for when I’m working on the West Coast, because I hate staying in hotels.’

‘So do I,’ she said. ‘It was one of the things I hated the most about modelling. Having my home in a suitcase, being constantly jet-lagged, ordering bar snacks off room service menus because I hadn’t eaten all day and that was all I could get at stupid o’clock in the morning. Watching the light blinking on the smoke detector, unable to sleep...’ The nervous rush of information cut off abruptly, and she sent him a self-deprecating smile. ‘The soulless grind of luxury living has to be the epitome of first-world problems for the spoilt little rich kid I was then, right?’

Her defensiveness, though, told a different story. He’d dismissed her as a spoilt brat that night, just like everyone else, but he could see now it must have been tough getting thrust into that whirlwind when she was still a kid.

‘Were you spoilt?’ he asked. ‘Or just young and unprepared?’

She let out a hollow laugh. ‘Who knows.’ She shrugged. ‘But I’m glad that girl is long gone.’ Leaning across the console, she cradled his cheek. ‘Are you finally going to kiss me now, Landry?’

He chuckled, the moment of introspection dispelled on a wave of want. Placing his hand on her waist, he dragged her closer and whispered, ‘You don’t have to ask me again, Charlotte.’

He captured her lips at last. She tasted sultry and sweet. But when her mouth opened on a shocked sob, the kiss went from provocative to carnal in a heartbeat.

He feasted on her, cupping both cheeks, and threading his fingers into her hair to release the soft mass from the chignon which had started to collapse while they danced.

He angled her face, and she opened for him, allowing him to thrust deep and take more. But as she tried to get closer, the seat belt restrained her.

He lifted his head, traced his thumb over her flushed cheek. ‘How about we take this upstairs. Making out in a car is overrated.’

‘Good plan, Galahad.’

He jumped out and headed round the hood to meet her at the passenger door. But as she got out, he scooped her into his arms.

She laughed. ‘Nice catch.’

She placed eager kisses across his jaw, his chin, his cheek as he marched to the elevator and stabbed the call button with his elbow. The doors opened immediately, but it seemed to take another eternity of torture to finally arrive at his penthouse.

She was still wrapped around him as he walked into the foyer and through into the main living area. The glass walls of the corner penthouse gave him a staggering view of the Bay Bridge and the sprinkle of Oakland’s nightlights in the distance, but it wasn’t the view which made his breath hitch when he set her on her feet.

She choked out a stuttered sob as he dragged his hands up her thighs under the short mini dress to fill his palms with her soft, responsive and— what the hell? —naked butt.

A thong! Lord, help me.

‘Were you wearing this the whole time we were dancing?’ he accused her, the knife edge becoming painful.

She nodded. ‘I love thongs. They’re so comfortable.’

He groaned. ‘You could have flashed the whole party every time I sent you into a spin...’

‘And your point would be...?’ She chuckled, giving him a tantalising glimpse of the reckless kid who had once danced on a table.

He laughed too. So the reckless kid wasn’t dead and gone—but her bad girl energy was so much more intoxicating now.

Her fingernails rasped across his nape—and sensation arrowed into his groin.

‘I think I should punish you,’ he murmured, holding her hips. ‘For risking getting us both arrested.’

‘I agree,’ she teased with a throaty purr.

He was still chuckling as he buried his face in her neck to lick the pummelling pulse in her collarbone, while massaging her bare butt and riding his thumb under the string. She shifted, cradling the ridge of his erection against her belly.

He sucked in the musty aroma of her arousal, but then she stiffened.

He pulled back, and saw both giddy need and wary tension in her lust-blown pupils. Small white teeth dug into her bottom lip, making him aware of the reddened skin around her mouth, and on her neck, where he’d given her beard burn.

Slow down, man.

‘Hey, are you still with me?’ he asked, resting his hand on her neck to stroke the delicate skin with his thumb.

‘Yes, yes, of course,’ she said too swiftly, as if she was trying to convince herself as well as him. ‘I want this,’ she added, but she sounded less sure than she had when they’d been devouring each other in the elevator.

He forced himself to loosen his hold a little.

‘There’s no rush, Charlotte. We can take as long as you need. Tell me where you like to be touched?’ he asked, determined to take this at her pace.

She blinked, her eyes dark with arousal, but also wary. Emotion tugged hard under his breastbone.

‘Honestly, I’m not sure,’ she said. ‘No one’s ever asked me that before.’

The forthright response was both adorable and kind of sad. He’d bet good money she had lost her virginity long before she’d met him four years ago, but the puzzled frown on her face made her seem like an artless girl—learning about her own desire for the first time.

Right about now, he wanted to murder every guy who had taken from her and given so little back. But the weight of responsibility was also a novel feeling. Could he be the one to show her she had always deserved so much more?

Aware of her nipples standing out like bullet points against the bronze silk, he thumbed one rigid peak. She jolted, her eyes widening.

‘How do you like to touch yourself?’ he asked, his throat raw as he continued to caress her lazily, not wanting to lose the connection, but careful not to push. ‘Can you show me?’

Her pale skin darkened. ‘I like what you’re doing right now...’ she managed. ‘But I think it would feel even better if I was naked.’

He let out a strained laugh, the bold comment crucifying him a little.

‘Then let’s remedy that,’ he said.

Gripping the hem of her dress, he drew it gently over her head and threw it away. She quivered, her small, firm breasts barely disguised by red lace.

He found the back hook of her bra, released it. She sighed as he took off the lace. He skimmed his thumb over one ruched nipple. Her vicious shudder rippled through his overwrought body.

Damn, but she was gorgeous. And so responsive...

Lifting the quivering flesh, he dragged his tongue over the swollen peak. She moaned as he drew the hard tip into his mouth and began to suck gently.

She grasped his head and arched her back, instinctively pushing herself into his mouth. Her panting breaths encouraged him as he learned what she liked the most, tormenting and torturing her until the hard peaks elongated even more.

Her musty scent filled his nostrils—sweet and spicy. But he took his time, determined to draw out her pleasure and contain his own—even as her eager, artless responses battered his self-control.

At last, he could wait no longer, cupping her sex, delving beneath the satin shield of her thong. She gasped, so ready and tender each stroke made her buck against his fingers.

He circled the stiff nub, grazing over and around it as he gauged her responses. The pants became sobs, her chest heaving beneath his mouth as he continued to tease her breasts.

‘Oh... That’s...’ She strained against him, her head falling back against the glass wall, the lights of the bay sparkling in her glossy hair.

He lifted his head, blew across her damp nipples, reddened now from his attention, and continued to work her clitoris with his thumb. He pressed one finger, then two inside her—his breathing becoming ragged at the realisation of how tight and wet she was. For him.

‘Relax, Charlotte, and let it take you...’ he coaxed, focussing his caresses on the slick heart of her at last.

She jerked, bucked against him, her hands grasping fistfuls of his shirt as she shuddered through the climax—the tortured sounds she made part pleasure, part pain.

Her body sank against the glass as the orgasm ebbed. He withdrew his hand, rested it on her hip. And waited for her eyes to open.

The green gaze locked on his, her expression dazed. Something pure and strong cinched tight around his ribs.

She seemed fragile and strangely vulnerable in that moment—her hair a soft, tangled mess, her breasts reddened from his lips, her sultry fragrance filling the room, and her face unable to hide her astonishment. As if the bad girl had been stripped away to reveal the needy, neglected girl beneath.

‘How...how did you do that?’ she asked, perplexed. ‘I’ve never... Well...’

The swell of affection and pride—because he had given her something precious—made his lungs tighten. How could she be so bold, jaded even...and yet also so unsure?

She was much more complex and fascinating than he could have imagined.

‘It’s not hard to pay attention...’ he said, then pressed his palm to her flushed skin. ‘How do you feel about another round?’

The chance to explore all those facets, unravel more of the puzzle she represented, excited him beyond bearing.

It occurred to him he’d become impossibly jaded about sex too, because her unguarded response to each touch, each caress, was somehow more erotic than the most practised seductress.

A grin split her features. ‘Much more enthusiastic now.’

Gripping his shoulders, she leapt into his arms—the reckless girl returning. He caught her with a huff, his hands gravitating to her backside.

‘But I want you naked too, Galahad.’

‘No problem,’ he said, enjoying her demanding tone.

He strode into the master suite and dropped her on the bed, then ripped open his shirt.

Her eyes flared with excitement as she watched him strip.

‘What’s the tattoo on your shoulder?’ she asked.

He paused as her avid gaze roamed over the ink he’d got at seventeen to celebrate flipping his first house—a broken-down two-storey Arcadian in Breaux Bridge, Louisiana, which he’d gutted and remodelled over one endless, back-breaking summer.

‘A phoenix,’ he said, embarrassed by the dumb decision now, made when he’d been drunk with excitement about the big fat profit burning a hole in his wallet. ‘Kind of a cliché, but it seemed appropriate at the time,’ he added, because he’d come to despise that ink in some ways, and the naive kid who had thought he’d be accepted, just because he had money to invest.

‘It’s cool,’ she said as she kicked off the ankle boots she still wore. ‘And very hot!’

He smiled. Maybe that decision hadn’t been so dumb after all?

He ripped open his pants, shoved them down. But as his erection bounced free, thick and long and impossibly hard, surprise flared across her features.

‘That’s impressive,’ she said, the bold tone husky with desire, but also unsure again.

He’d had compliments before about his physique—he was a man who women had always liked the look of, even when he’d been broke—but something about the stunned yearning in her gaze when it rose to his, the captivating mix of awareness and shock, had him feeling like a real knight in shining armour for the first time in his life.

A knight who planned to show Charlotte Courtney exactly what she had been missing.

Cade Landry is actually a sex god!

Excitement vibrated in Charley’s gut as she devoured the sight of Cade’s heavily muscled body—in all its naked glory. The small scars, the flamboyant tattoo in faded red and gold of the mythical bird flaming across his left pec and shoulder, the defined lines of his hip flexors, the washboard abs, and the sunburnt bronze of his skin which paled at his groin, framing the massive erection that jutted out from the nest of dark hair.

She swallowed around the new blockage in her throat. And stared.

But as he fished a condom out of the bedside dresser and rolled it onto the mammoth erection with casual efficiency, it occurred to her he was a lot more experienced at pleasuring women than she was at pleasuring a man.

And she’d never had any satisfaction at all from penetrative sex.

The truth was, all her sexual encounters up to now had been furtive and rushed, crude and unmemorable...

She forced herself not to tense up, tried to concentrate on the epic orgasm she’d just had—which had been as surprising as it had been exhilarating.

Cade had taken his own sweet time and devoted himself to her pleasure first and foremost. Which just went to show, the few guys she’d slept with before him had been incredibly selfish, dating right back to the forty-something photographer who had slammed into her in a studio bathroom when she was sixteen and convinced her it was her fault she hadn’t enjoyed it.

She wanted to believe she’d just turned a corner—with Cade Landry’s expert help. But as he climbed onto the bed and gripped her ankle to tug her towards him—fierce possession in his eyes—her breath hitched. She did not want this to be another encounter she ended up regretting.

She pressed a hand to his chest. ‘Wait.’

‘Problem?’ he asked, his hands stroking her hips in a way which made her heart thunder against her ribs.

‘Not specifically...’ she said, far too aware of the thrusting flesh brushing against her thigh. Being in that state had to be uncomfortable, but in her experience, men found it a lot harder to slow down once they got it inside you.

‘I just... I don’t want this to be over too soon.’ She gripped the hot length as carefully as she could. ‘So how about I take care of you?’

He jolted as she stroked the turgid flesh, but then he pressed a kiss to her cheek and grasped her wrist to remove her hand from the powerful erection.

‘I’m in no rush, Charlotte,’ he said, the amusement in his voice belied by the intensity in his expression. ‘Let’s make this all about you. Because believe me, I’m already being taken care of...’

‘You are ?’ she asked. But she felt gauche and insecure when he chuckled.

‘Do you have any idea how captivating you are?’ he countered without answering her inane question. Before she could come up with a coherent answer, he murmured, ‘How about I show you...’

It wasn’t a question, as he held her firmly in place to nuzzle her neck, then proceeded to kiss his way—with infuriating patience—down her torso.

He worshipped her with his mouth, his tongue, his teeth. His lazy focus made her aware of each sweet, sensitive spot he discovered. The maddeningly slow caresses turned her collarbone, her breasts, her nipples, her belly into one enormous erogenous zone. Her back bowed as he awakened every nerve ending—building a new maelstrom of need. She grasped handfuls of the sheet as he finally blew across the soaked satin of her thong.

She gasped, desperate, devastated as he traced the edge with his tongue.

‘Please...take it off...’ she begged, the thin swatch of fabric a frustrating barrier.

‘Why yes, Mizz Charlotte,’ he teased, the husky edge in his voice vibrating against her skin before he eased the thong off.

She lay hesitant, expectant, the mix of brutal pleasure and vicious anticipation making her desperation increase, as he parted her swollen folds and lathed his tongue across the needy flesh.

She lurched off the bed, her fingers fisting in the luxury linen sheets again, her eyes screwed shut.

‘Easy, Charlotte, hold on to it this time,’ he murmured, the tone arrogant but full of a confidence which only made her feel more alive, more needy, and more secure. And very happy to let him lead. ‘We’ve got all night.’

She parted her thighs, brushed the silky waves of his hair she could reach with her fingertips to urge him on, as he went to work, devouring her with his tongue, but retreating every time she edged too close to another glorious release.

Pleasure swelled and twisted—taut, tight, painful—building her desperation.

The wave barrelled towards her just as he rose above her, his broad shoulders cutting out the night.

Clasping her hips, spreading her wide, he surged deep in one powerful, all-consuming thrust. The thick erection stretched her unbearably, but her body was so slick, so ready, he impaled her with ease.

She sobbed, shocked by how the thick intrusion made the climax intensify. He established an undulating, unstoppable rhythm and forced her to follow, reminding her of the dance. She clung to him again, trusting him to show her the way.

She dug her heels into the mattress, her knees gripping his hips, and rode the brutal wave, which rose to crest again as he pounded into her, the pleasure so much, too much...much more than enough.

She cried out, her voice hoarse, as she dived into the hot vat of stunning sensation.

‘Look at me,’ he growled, his tone raw.

Her eyelids flew open, and she found him watching her with that fierce intensity—but he was lost now too in the maddening pleasure... His movements became jerky and frantic. His gruff shout of completion pierced the thick fog of afterglow.

Triumph filled her—sweet, visceral, overwhelming—as he collapsed on top of her, following her head first into the abyss...