Collared for a Night (Crimson Romance) (23 page)

“I want to feel you come all over my dick. Tonight,” he said in a low growl. “I could lick you all damned day. You are coming back home with me tonight?”

“Yes. If you’d like.”

He lifted up and walked toward his private bathroom. He returned with a warm washcloth and hand towel. “Let me,” he said. He wiped her and then patted her dry. “Do you want company for your meeting?”

“How long have I got?”

“About fifteen minutes if Peter Ikashi is on time. Which I suspect he will be.”

She’d never conducted a meeting on the cusp of climaxing. Standing up, she pulled down her skirt, wondering if her face was as red as it felt.

“You look beautiful. I wouldn’t worry. Peter will just want to share his magnificent vision and get a round of high-fives for being a genius. He loves attention and will be too consumed with himself to notice anything else. If you had a mirror in your office, you could position him in front of it and he’d be pleased as punch.”

Her hands fell away from smoothing her hair. Shawn came up next to her, his expression as feral as it was the night they’d first fucked. He owned her, and gazing into his fiercely seductive and powerful face, all she could do was wonder how long until this game was over and her heart shattered into a billion pieces.

• • •

Sitting in first class on the short flight to Vegas, she tried to concentrate on typing an acceptance speech. She’d put it off and only now, after Shawn insisted, did she consider the possibility that she might win. The American Design Award nomination had been a fluke. She’d come up with a design by chance, unlike the other nominees who had a consistent history of award-winning designs. She was the youngest artist ever selected, and Shawn’s decision to close up shop and take all of his staff only made her more apprehensive about the expression she’d have to plaster on her face, clapping and accepting everyone’s “better luck next year” wishes when she lost.

The plane began its descent and she saved her speech, gazing over at Shawn as he read the
New York Times
. He arched a brow, and folded the paper. “An acceptance speech is more than ‘good evening’ and ‘thank you’. Shall I write the damned thing for you?”

“No. Of course not. I was merely considering my choice in words.”

“The seasons will change at this rate before you’ve named the project and your client. It’s not that difficult. Just view it as good coverage for your client and throw in some tidbits on how you came up with the design. I know you don’t like drawing attention to yourself. Make it easy, then, and don’t look at it as spotlighting your work. Think of it as opening a door into the design firm in which you, my dearest, are partner. On every level, I think you’re awesome.”

She reached out, caressing his arm that rested between them. “You’re less than objective, but thank you. That makes more sense. I hate the idea of talking about myself. It was so much fun dealing with Serena on the project. She should really be recognized. Her products could sell themselves.”

“I think not. But you two made an explosive team, insofar as clients and designers go. A certain type of synergy.” He raised her hand to his lips, making her gasp. “No one can see us here,” he whispered, and ran his tongue along her index finger, nibbling the end.

“Synergy.” She repeated the term, floating in the erotic sensation of his mouth on her finger, and his evocative expression. That’s what she felt when she was with him. What would she be like without him? The opposite of Teflon.

Then she knew, no matter how hard she’d tried to stay aloof, she’d fallen. Fallen so hard, the only thing she could do was try to keep a superficial distance when all she wanted was to feel him. On her skin, between her legs, and more importantly, swim through her thoughts without fear that, one day, she would be alone without him.

Shawn interlaced his fingers between hers, bringing her closer to him. It was impossible to keep him at arms’ length. No one was around, and she wasn’t even certain she cared any more if anyone knew. The staff at Matrix didn’t care about gossip unless it had to do with the best technology or how to obtain cutting-edge info.

The only comment came from one of the fellow designers who unexpectedly came upon Shawn and her in the hallway. Shawn had caressed her face absentmindedly and she nearly jumped out of her skin upon seeing the designer. He had come up to them and said, “It’s about bloody time you guys came out of the closet. Now, can we get on to the real issue at hand?” The man had proceeded to target an ad campaign that he was running.

“And you’re certain about the luggage?” Coming out of the terminal, she was struck by a wave of dry heat bouncing off the blacktop, and the glare from the surfaces had her squinting. Shawn loosened his tie. “Yes. The driver had instructions. The staff is catching a ride from the hotel transport. You and I have a car waiting. Do you remember Santo?” He steered her over the sidewalk toward a private car.

“Santo, it’s good to see you again,” Diana said.

“Likewise. Ms. Hambre?” The driver moved forward, taking hold of their attaché cases. His half-lidded eyes were similar to Fin’s, quicksilver laced over expansive black. Steady. Deadly.

“Thank you,” she said, the hairs all over her body rising.

He nodded, a slight curve to his wine-colored lips. He pulled his lip upward, for less than a second, and she gasped softly, noting the capped canines behind his lips. Santo was no shifter. He was a most unusual
man
, with tanned and smooth olive skin; café latté came to mind.

“You’ve been outdoors, it seems. Vegas weather seems to agree with you,” Shawn remarked.

“Surprising what can be purchased out here.” Santo’s eyes skimmed over her momentarily, then around the sidewalk. Diana got the impression he was openly on guard, even though she had not sensed any threats in their vicinity.

“Either way, you appear more in your element here than in the mountains of Colorado.”

Shawn inquired if the baggage had been collected. “Yes, three pieces as you indicated. Here are the tags.” The tickets were pinched between Santo’s long, elegantly-tapered fingers. Santo spoke in a low European accent. Spanish or French. She couldn’t decide.

“Then get us to the hotel. I hope you’ll reconsider the insanity of staying out here without a break and return to Denver for a visit. I’ve something that needs your attention. We can discuss later.” Shawn directed Santo back to the limo, and indicated that he’d get the door.

“Assuredly,” the driver said. Silence swathed the man in an aura of ferocious loyalty. The word
relentlessness
came to Diana’s mind. She’d never met a man — other than Shawn — around whom she was completely secure, yet somehow she knew Santo could physically maim her in countless ways if he chose. Turning, she noticed, below his severe military haircut, he sported a tattoo similar to Fin’s on the back of his neck.

Shawn had followed her gaze and she arched a brow as if in question. He held her gaze, “Something wrong?”

“Fin, Tristen? And Santo? A club?” She shrugged her shoulders. “Features that all three men possess.” The added similarity made her realize they were of the same clan. It was unusual that they’d all be working for Shawn, who wasn’t part of their club.

“They all served in Afghanistan. He’s actually European, but you know war heroes. They seem to congregate.”

“Probably seen too much blood,” she said.

“From what I know, they’re blood brothers, of sorts. But then there was a falling out. When they’re together, they are a force to be reckoned with. They party hard, but they’re all heart. I trust them with everything I own.”

“The graphic design is one of yours?”

“Yes.”

“And the one on your body. How many other people wear your ink designs?”

“Let’s not discuss it. I don’t know. Is it important?”

“No. But now look who’s eating humble pie. The tats are stunning.”

Inside the car, the air conditioning alleviated the dry air that smelled of smoky brush fires, and kept her from openly panting. She was mid-cycle and her hormones were on a rollercoaster ride, unlike anything she’d experienced. Smooth sailing was what she’d expected after Shawn took care of her and continued to provide sexual release, not once but several times a day. Now, going on the third week, she was seeing signs of her leopardess wanting to be free.

Stress — whether it was work, hunger, and now she understood, even heat — made her want to shed her clothes and be free. She supposed good stress would also provoke this reaction. So much change, and she was scrambling to find a calm place. Home had become Shawn’s mountaintop retreat or downtown apartment, or the firm, and she’d not had a moment to herself to just relax. She worked the knots of tension in her neck with her fingers.

“Let me,” Shawn said. His warm fingertips miraculously damped the stress down to a workable level. They drove along the Vegas Strip, pulling into the MGM Grand.

“We’re here.” The car sat in the queue coming up to the hotel entrance. Vegas had an energy that keyed her up. Even Shawn looked like he was consumed by the place.

Excitedly she contemplated the hotel. “The Sky Loft has a tremendous view. I looked at the suites online. Wish all the staff could stay up there. What a party.”

“No. I want some alone time with you. We’ve tickets for a couple of shows and the awards ceremony. The after-party follows at XS. A popular nightclub.”

“Are we all going together? It’s a private party at the Encore Hotel. Isn’t it?”

“Yes. Every one of the staff and some clients in town are invited. So you’d better win. We’re not staying there since I figured it would be overrun with the design industry. You said you wanted privacy.” He smiled at her provocatively, hinting about his plans, none of which brought to mind drinking or schmoozing. His hand snaked around her hip, patting her bottom.

Santo opened the car door; fumes and a blast of dry, hot air rushed inside, and Shawn released her, stepping free of the car. He bent and held out his hand, waiting for her to rise. “If it were up to me, I’d shout from the roof top that you were mine.”

“I don’t think I’d mind,” she murmured into his surprised face. “Really.”

“Jesus, what was in your soda?” He pulled her to him as though testing the strength of her words. She came to him willingly, more than she’d ever imagined possible. Maybe there was something in the water in Las Vegas. Home of the drive-through wedding, complete with Elvis officials.

If he wanted to shout, well, she’d join him. Regardless of the relationship expiration date, she wanted to live fully in the moment with Shawn. No more hiding. She came to Vegas ready to lay it all out on the table. Chips or no chips. Black, red, green, white. The odds didn’t matter; with Shawn, every second was a winning hand.

“Let’s go get checked-in and then we need to talk. Seriously.”

She smiled up at him, intertwining her fingers with his. He kissed the space over her knuckles, shaking his head. “Women,” he muttered, pulling her along with him toward the hotel entrance.

• • •

He came to her as soon as the door of their suite was closed. “Tell me what changed your mind.”

“I don’t want to waste whatever time we’ve got. Nothing lasts forever and I’m tired of regrets. You were right. The people at Matrix have bigger concerns than my romantic life. They don’t care. I didn’t realize it, but there are several department staffers that are in bed together. No one talks nonsense because time is precious. Sex is only interesting when it sells a design scheme. Otherwise, stow it. You’ve a fascinating atmosphere built up at Matrix. No backstabbers.”

“If no one talks about who is sleeping with whom, then how did you find out there were other couples?”

“People let down their guard when talking. The last week, I decided to do as you suggested and get to know the other designers over lunch and coffee. I found out I’m more ‘approachable’ to co-workers. You marketed me well to the Matrix design team. Branding par excellence, at least for me. I don’t know about you. I’m climbing the charts.”

“I think that’s because you’re a partner. Not because we’re a unit.”

“Maybe. But people talk
with
me. Not
to
me. I like the interchange. Prior to this, I felt like an outsider.”

“Perhaps it’s your training. Did you ever think that as an alpha you’d naturally have this essence or quality that others would pick up on? Humans haphazardly perceive the non-verbal. Shifters would know. Stick that feather in your cap as well. But I’ve got a more important question. Care to take in the view?”

“Oh, lets. I’ve eagerly wanted to take in our view from up here.” He ushered her into the living room and continued toward the terrace. A
whoosh
of the French doors and they were standing outside, up so high the breeze caressed her face and skin, making her body automatically unwind as though massaged. “This is gorgeous. Up here you can see in every direction.”

She held up her hand, shielding her eyes from the sunlight, and stopped. Shawn was down on his knee, holding her hand, and gazing up into her face. His amber eyes glinted in the light, making her swallow unsuccessfully around the lump wedged inside her throat.

He began, “It’s not merely east or west, north or south, that I want you to see. Baby, look into my eyes and into my heart. I love you. You fill me completely. Diana, marry me. Mate with me and we’ll be as one. You and me, sweetheart, forever.” He opened his palm, holding out an aqua box tied at the top with a white bow.

Joy welled up inside her. A geyser ready to overflow. She flung her arms around his neck and he stood crushing her body against his.

“Shawn, I love you, too. Yes. Yes.”

“Tell me what you think of this.” He took hold of her hand and placed the box within her grasp.

She stared at the box, her fingers trembling. “I know it’ll be perfect.”

“Open it. I was going to wait, but then, given what you said downstairs … it felt right to ask and I didn’t want to put you on the spot in the driveway of the hotel.”

“Darling, it would have been just as special.” She pulled at the ribbon, tears welling in her eyes. Lifting the top off, she gazed at the black velvet box inside.