Yours to Savor (30 page)

Sandra was struck by the powerful force of
need
that swelled inside her at Brandon’s cavalier
pronouncement. Her heart started racing from excitement and her nipples strained beneath her bra.

It made her feel unexpectedly beautiful and sexy, this newfound thrill of a public showing of affection by a man who could obviously have any woman he wanted. In a scant hour or so, Brandon had given her more adventure in her sex life than she’d accumulated by the age of twenty-five. And when she heard the unbidden words flicker from her tongue in a whisper, she knew she was lost to him. “I need you inside me.”

If she thought the fire in his eyes had burned strongly before, she’d been mistaken. An inferno erupted upon her admission, and those stunning green irises turned into something dark and quite frightening.

“Get in the car,” he commanded. By the time Sandra got to her door on legs that didn’t want to hold her, Brandon had already started the engine. She barely had time to buckle up before the screeching tires caused a nearby group of people to jump.

One look at Brandon’s face was enough to understand Brandon’s desire for her. The protruding bulge in the crotch of his black pants made it all the more evident.

A few minutes of death-defying speeds and running red lights later, Brandon pulled to an abrupt stop in front of an unfamiliar building.

“This isn’t our hotel…?”

Brandon cut her off. “It’s closer.”

A light went on in Sandra’s head. Brandon hopped out of the car, tossed the keys to an astonished valet, growled a warning of, “Take good care of her,” and came around to grab Sandra’s hand in a possessive
grip.

He led her straight into the lobby, which looked just as extravagant as the hotel she’d been in the past two nights. Sandra had to run to keep up with him, and when her foot slipped out of one heel, she stopped to pick it up—but Brandon tugged her forward without pause. “Leave it.”

Sandra knew better than to argue. She was much too consumed with steamy thoughts to pay too much attention to her shoes.

“Mr. Galliani,” the porter behind the desk smiled. “What an unexpected pleasure to welcome you to the Nine Zero
again.”

“Steve,” Brandon said, eyes jumping from the man to the far elevator and back again. “Is my room available?”

“Oh, certainly, certainly! Let me just check the computer…” Steve trailed off, intent on the screen. Sandra noticed that the concierge
made a point of not looking at her. “Here we go!” He scrolled down with the mouse. “Oh. Um, I’m very sorry, Mr. Galliani, but I’m showing a reservation in your room for tonight.”

Sandra felt Brandon stiffen. “Have they checked in?”

Steve tapped something on the keyboard. “Let me see… No. No, they haven’t.”

Brandon relaxed. “Good. Cancel the reservation. I need that room tonight.”

Steve paled, and for a second Sandra thought he was going to refuse… but the look passed and he started nodding like a bobble head. “Yes. Yes. I know our expected guests won’t be pleased with having their plans changed, but we take good care of our friends here.”

Brandon grunted, not an ounce of sympathy on his face for the people whose plans he’d disrupted.

“And how will you be paying for this visit, Mr. Galliani?”

“Same as always. Cash, when I check out.” He squeezed Sandra’s hand. She was dying from anticipation. She glanced at the front of his pants, and was pleased to see his excitement hadn’t faded, either.

Steve handed Brandon a keycard, which he snatched and started for the elevator. Sandra gave a little yelp as she was yanked after him.

“And Steve?” Brandon called out over one shoulder, “Give my regards to your manager.”

They reached the elevator, and Brandon hit the button to go up. The light came on right away, but Brandon pressed it again, then again, then again.

Desire burned through Sandra, the coils winding tighter and tighter in preparation of the ultimate gratification that would come upstairs. But the wait was impossible to bear. Brandon had shown her the thrill of a public display, and she was hungry for more. To hell with propriety. She’d never see any of the people milling around in the lobby again. None of them mattered.

Only Brandon mattered.

She turned to him. “Kiss me.”

Brandon’s eyes widened—he hadn’t been expecting that. “What?”

“Kiss me.” She was all but jumping from the amount of lust that throttled through her body. “Kiss me. Now.”

The last word was still on her tongue as Brandon’s head streaked down and caught her mouth with unsurpassed violence. There was nothing slow or languid about that kiss, only the fire-made-flesh that burned in his eyes.

Brandon twisted with her in his arms and shoved her against the cool metal elevator doors. Sandra’s fingers curled in his hair, pulling him into her and kissing him as hard as she could. She picked up the scandalized noises that people made around them. Instead of feeling ashamed or self-conscious, she only felt more wicked—and even more turned on. Her hand went to Brandon’s shoulders and she tugged him down, needing to have his hard chest pressed up against her tender breasts.

That was when the elevator doors decided to open.

One moment she was pinned against an impenetrable, solid surface; the next, that surface vanished, and she was falling back through thin air.

Brandon landed right on top of her, in a heap on the floor. He pushed up, a curious look on his face… and started to laugh.

Sandra blinked, bewildered by his response. The man had almost flattened her with the force of his weight, and instead of helping her up or inquiring about her well-being, he was…
laughing
?

But then the absurdity of the moment struck her, too. She realized how ridiculous she must look, sprawled on the floor in a flashy yellow dress, half her body in the elevator and the other half not, straddled by a powerful man in a night-black suit. She began to laugh, too. That’s what she got for making out like a horny teenager in the lobby of a fancy boutique hotel!

When Brandon finally stood and helped her up, Sandra took a moment to compose herself. She smoothed the front of her dress, pushed the hair out of her eyes—and realized for the first time that they were not alone in the elevator.

A man dressed in the crisp hotel uniform stood by the elevator panel, grinning like an idiot at both of them.

A sudden flare of humiliation scorched through Sandra. Heat rushed to her cheeks. Brandon—as always—remained unfazed.

“Will you be going up to your usual suite, Mr. Galliani?” the man asked, entirely too much suggestion in his voice.

Brandon gave a curt nod, and clapped him on the shoulder. “Yes, but this time, I won’t need you to take us there.” He reached into his back pocket, withdrew his wallet, and took out a paper bill. Sandra caught a glimpse of Franklin’s face as the money changed hands. “You’ll give me the key and make sure we’re not disturbed?”

“Of course!” The man pulled out a small, flat key from the inside of his vest, and gave it to Brandon before stepping out of the elevator.

The doors closed, and Sandra was alone with Brandon. “What was that all about?” she asked.

“Well, you see, the suite I got us tonight is very particular.” Brandon pushed the key into a keyhole at the bottom of the panel, then swiped the keycard through the reader. “And highly coveted. I gave the doorman
a nice tip in exchange for the staff key that grants access to it. The only other one is with the manager, and he’s a good friend.”

“Why?”

“Because we took someone else’s reservations tonight,” Brandon smiled. “Getting the key was just another way to make sure there won’t be anybody banging on our door tonight.” He took a bold step forward. “Although,” he whispered, “There’s going to be plenty of banging
inside
the room.”

He dipped his head down, opening his mouth to feast upon her neck. Sandra sucked in a breath and arched forward at the feeling of his tongue on her skin. In the privacy of the elevator, Brandon’s hands explored her body freely, squeezing her breasts, trailing down her abdomen, pressing through the dress onto her sex. She moaned as a ripple of pleasure cascaded through her body at the feeling of his hand there again. She bucked her hips forward, urging him to give her more.

“Jesus,” Brandon breathed, his voice hot and steamy, “you’re already wet for me
aren’t you, Sandra?”

Without warning, both his hands grasped her hips, and he hefted her up, pressing her high against the mirrored wall. Sandra loved him handling her like that. She wasn’t tiny, but the way Brandon lifted her so effortlessly made her feel especially feminine. She adored the way his hard arm muscles flexed when he used his strength.

Sandra wrapped both legs around Brandon’s waist, and he used one hand to slip the shoulder of her dress down, exposing her lacy bra. His mouth dropped down to place hot kisses on her chest—first above her breasts, then right in between. Sandra buried her hands in his hair and he pushed her dress up, exposing her bare legs and the thin lacy fabric of her panties, as his mouth continued to delight her skin with sinful kisses.

“
Mmm
, Brandon,” she purred, squirming with pleasure under his touch. “Yes, just like that…”

Before she knew what was happening he pushed off her, and gently lowered her to her feet. Sandra had to blink a few times to resurface, but once she did, she realized the elevator doors had opened.

“This,” Brandon announced, sweeping an arm in front of them, “is my favorite suite.”

Chapter Twenty

The elevator doors opened to a vast penthouse suite. Now Sandra understood why Brandon had taken the key. These rooms took the entire upper level of the hotel. The elevator did not go any higher, and served as both the lift and the entrance.

The space looked like something out of a luxury real estate magazine. The furniture all matched in gleaming steel and supple black leather, complemented by glass figurines so clear and smooth they looked to be made of running water. Lights from the shimmering city outside illuminated the walls through enormous windows, casting a soft, urban glow on the starkly modern, minimalistic furnishings of the suite.

“Come,” Brandon beckoned, “there’s a view I want you to see.”

Sandra followed him, running her hands over the smooth glass statues as she walked. She liked one in particular: a carving of a polar bear, taller even than Brandon, with its claws bared and teeth set in a menacing growl. It guarded the entrance to one of the hallways. Two dark jewels encrusted the eyes, but that was the only feature to lend it color. Otherwise, the entire beast was clear, shimmering glass.

The city lights did not reach the hallway, so Sandra followed Brandon in the dark, almost bumping into him when he stopped in front of a doorway. He motioned for her to go inside.

She complied, taking careful steps in the dark. Her eyes had started to adjust, and she saw a black chaise longue made of tubular leather pillows in the middle of the room. It faced the far wall, which was made entirely of glass. A white cube stood beside the daybed, presumably as a side table, and when Sandra ran her fingers over it she realized it was made of marble. Those were the only furnishings in the room.