Insatiable (11 page)

Without seeing his eyes clearly, she couldn‟t be sure of his reaction, but his suddenly tense posture said volumes. Then he swiftly rolled on the condom and, without a word, buried himself inside her.

Knowing he was pissed should have blunted the pleasure. Reduced the quaking in her thighs. Stifled the need to pump her hips against his to meet every thrust. But with each scrape of her bare ass against the cold stone as he pummeled into her, she tumbled closer to the point of no return.

She moaned, and he silenced her with a rough, brutal kiss, his tongue surging deep into her mouth. Overcome, she threw her arms around him, channeling every long-repressed impulse she‟d ever had in his direction into that single mating of lips.

God, there were so many. So very many.

His heart slammed against hers, beat for beat, and his fingers scored her hips as he pumped his cock deep into her snug channel. Her robe fell all the way open, her chemise twisting under her breasts. Still, she shoved at the material separating them.

She craved the feel of skin on skin.
His
skin,
his
body heat,
his
muscles bunching tight under her hands.

Her orgasm burst inside her, a bright flare of light that subsided far too quickly. Arching, she dug her nails into his shoulders, then dragged them down the back of his suit coat.

“Come.” She needed to feel him climax. She‟d never needed anything more.

“God, now.”

As his release shook him, she kissed him deeply enough that his groan rumbled through her as if they were one. But even the incredible sensation of him coming inside her didn‟t soothe the ache or abate the emptiness she couldn‟t seem to shake.

A cold shiver crept over her skin. Fighting it, she rode him harder, driving him on as his still semihard cock pulsed within her. Even if he was mad at her for real or imagined slights, he couldn‟t deny his body‟s reaction to hers.

Could he?

She closed her eyes so she couldn‟t see the way his face tensed in the shadowy glow from the fountain. That wasn‟t part of the fantasy.

“More. I need more.” Her whispers were frantic. “Please.”

It wasn‟t until she‟d ridden him to a second orgasm more blistering than the first that she realized Shawn had stilled completely under her hands, as if she were making love to a statue rather than a man.

54

Cari Quinn

Rachel pressed her lips together as he lowered her legs, ever so gently, to the ground. While she wobbled on the one heel she hadn‟t lost, he bent to retrieve its match from the dewy grass.

He grasped her ankle, slipped on her shoe. Then her Prince Charming zipped up his pants and pivoted away, leaving her trembling in her drenched panties and her wrinkled chemise.

Insatiable

55

Chapter Seven

Damn his father and his stupid plan.

Leaving Rachel had been one of the hardest things he‟d ever done, if not
the
hardest. But if it meant one day he‟d get the opportunity to hold her after sex, to brush his lips over her hair and kiss her before she drifted off to sleep, then this would all have been worth it.

If not, he‟d played himself in a way he doubted he‟d ever get past.

In the men‟s room, Shawn faced his bleary-eyed reflection in the mirror. He‟d taken a few extra minutes to clean himself up, hoping the added time would level off his skipping heart.

Hadn‟t worked.

He must‟ve looked a sight when he wandered in a short while ago: hair mussed, mask crooked, and ruby red lipstick smeared around his lips à la the Joker.

Luckily, he‟d ducked into the bathroom before coming upon anyone he recognized from the gala, but imagining his father‟s chagrin had him smothering a wince.

Not only did he relish the idea of making love to Rachel in an actual bed, without handcuffs or similar accoutrements, he figured it would go miles toward keeping the heretofore sterling Griffin and Cooper reputations intact.

Although he had to admit he‟d begun to find adventurous sex addictive. Maybe they could enjoy themselves in a few more memorable spots before they retired to the bedroom.

Shaking his head, Shawn pushed open the restroom door and peered out like a guilty child before strolling, hands in pockets, back to the grand ballroom. He scanned the dancing couples for Chrissy, telling himself Rachel was fine and had probably already met up with Ryan again.

Ryan. The guy she was buying condoms to have sex with, in between furtively doing
him.

“Not going there,” he muttered.

He hastily fastened two gaping buttons over his midsection. He‟d known the parameters of this little op before he‟d jumped in with both feet—and other vital parts of his anatomy—so he could hardly claim to be surprised she was double dipping.

56

Cari Quinn

Being hurt was another story. Someday, he‟d tell her the special kind of hell he‟d endured while he was surrounded by the wet, rippling glove of her body, knowing she‟d intended to suit up Ryan‟s commander that very night.

Maybe she still would.

As he passed the bar, he nearly ordered another martini, which, naturally, made him think of his favorite olive addict. But he couldn‟t think about her anymore, not if he wanted to maintain his facade of disinterest for the rest of the night.

So he kept going.

Shawn came upon his date sitting at their table, staring glumly off into space while she twirled a teardrop pearl earring that didn‟t match her slightly slutty costume. He dropped down across from her, his guilt increasing tenfold when she didn‟t spare him a glance. “Chrissy, I‟m sorry.”

She lifted a shoulder. “Hey, shit happens.”

“I caused this particular shit.” He rubbed his forehead. “Uh, I should explain—”

“Please don‟t.” She held up a pale hand that looked delicate enough to shatter in a stiff wind. “Just tell me this. Did you get lucky?”

Just as he was about to deny it—he wasn‟t a
complete
jerk—he noticed her plaintive expression, almost as if she hoped he had. “Yes,” he ventured, praying he hadn‟t read her wrong.

“Good.” She gave a brisk bob of her head. “After that scene I saw at Fielding‟s today, if you hadn‟t, I would‟ve lumped you into the same sorry category I‟m in.”

Again, he massaged his temples. “Which is what?”

“You‟re in love with the geisha chick. I‟m not totally blind, Shawn, even if I tend to be in my own personal life.” She sucked down a swig of her lime-garnished blue drink. “She‟s hanging with Tall, Dark, Sex Machine, and you‟re left hugging the sidelines, waiting for her to notice he only wants one thing.”

“Uh…”

“I understand. Denial‟s my favorite river too.” She hiccupped and clamped her fingers over mouth. “I should lay off the blue pussies. They‟re killing me.”

“Might be a good idea.” In case she wavered in her resolve, Shawn slid her mostly empty glass toward him and took an experimental sniff. “What‟s in this?”

“Turpentine, I think.” She giggled. “Anyhoo, how‟d you get her away from Tight Pants?”

If he hadn‟t already disliked Ryan for his misdeeds in Rachel‟s past, hearing a cute girl like Chrissy fawn over him might have tipped the scale. Deep down, Ryan might be a decent guy, but from the way his gaze had roved over every woman in the room the minute he‟d left Rachel‟s side, Shawn had his doubts.

“Tight pants are a weakness of many women,” Chrissy continued, patting his hand. “Drop down half a size, and you‟ll get the same response.”

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57

“I‟ll remember that.” He had to grin as he risked life and limb by trying her drink. “Wow.” His eyebrows rose. “That‟s—”

“Yummy?”

“I was going to say putrid.”

She shrugged. “Did the job of helping me get trashed. They had sex on my desk.”

He didn‟t need clarification of who she was talking about and was immensely grateful she‟d changed topics from his own love life. Err, sex life because, Lord knew, love hadn‟t yet entered Rachel‟s equation.

“I‟m sorry.”

Her weary blue gaze lowered to the table as she smudged away the water ring around her glass. “I didn‟t want to see the signs because it hurt too much. I wanted to be wrong, to be the paranoid bitch he accused me of being. You know?”

Did he ever. “Yes.”

“So I got what I deserved.”

“No. You didn‟t,” he murmured, reaching for her hand. “You loved him, and you trusted him. Or you tried to trust him, even when your gut told you not to.”

“That‟s it exactly.” Chrissy gazed at him steadily. “What‟s your gut telling you?”

His stomach knotted at the question. “Don‟t ask.”

“Uh-oh.” Chrissy‟s mouth rounded. “There she is again…”

Though Shawn didn‟t release her hand, his back braced at the sudden zap of awareness. When he turned his head and saw Rachel watching him from the doorway, her eyes as dark as the shadow of the moon, he thought he‟d prepared himself for the requisite jolt.

He hadn‟t.

“You should go to her,” Chrissy said quietly, withdrawing her hand from his as the moment lengthened.

“I can‟t.”

“Why not?”

“Because I need her to come to me.” As he rose, he again offered Chrissy his hand, not so Rachel would see it, but not caring if she did. “You ready to blow this pop stand?”

“Yeah.”

“Great.” Keeping her hand lightly in his, Shawn ushered her past Spidey and Marilyn. He squeezed her fingers when he heard her take a slow breath, then opened the door for her and shot a glance toward where Rachel had stood.

But she was gone.

* * *

58

Cari Quinn

Rachel left without speaking to anyone, including Ryan. She owed him an explanation for her disappearing act, but until she could speak without annoying drops leaking out of her eyes, he‟d just have to deal with wondering what had happened.

Earlier, the cab ride from her hotel to the gala hadn‟t intruded on her buzz of anticipation, but now, the twelve-block ride back to the Meridian seemed to take hours. She stared out the window at the garish lights of Times Square with her throat raw from pity tears and her eyes swollen and grainy. Added to that, her body throbbed as if someone had pulverized her with a mallet.

Or their very enthusiastic hips.

Rubbing her sore eyes, Rachel shook her head at her behavior. She‟d been bumped against a stone wall repeatedly and was too dazed by her multiple orgasms to remember her body-slamming would hurt like a bitch later. So here she was, weepy and lonely, and she couldn‟t even whine to—

She struggled to swallow.
To no one
. Her supposed best friend had proved he now only wanted one thing from her, and he didn‟t even want
that
enough to stick around while she pulled up her panties.

After the cabbie swung up over the curb at her hotel, she shoved a twenty into his outstretched hand and stumbled out of the car. Without acknowledging the concerned looks she received from the other guests, she rushed across the lobby to the elevator and stabbed the button for her floor.

Great. Just when she‟d thought things couldn‟t get worse, now total strangers were on the verge of offering her tissues. Keeping her head down, she hurried from the elevator and down the hall to her suite.

She‟d so had enough. Screw Shawn Griffin.

A smile ghosted around her mouth as she shoved her key card into her door and pushed it open. “Already did, Rach,” she mumbled, flinging the door shut.

Crying wouldn‟t help. What she needed was a good, long soak. And since she couldn‟t get Ben & Jerry‟s from room service, half the bar of imported Swiss chocolate she‟d stashed in her travel first-aid kit.

She didn‟t even look at her reflection before shedding her clothes and slipping into the shower. Thankfully, the warm spray managed to drum most of the stress out of her temples. Soon her headache diminished to a nagging reminder of why having sex with your best friend was a big honking mistake.

After scrubbing every last hint of Shawn‟s ridiculously pricey cologne off her skin, she stepped out, bundled herself in a towel, and went to work with her makeup remover. But when she finally faced her squinty-eyed reflection, her head began to pound again.

With fury.

How dare he? Did he really believe he could treat her as if she were some toss-away sex buddy? Did he think she‟d
let
him?

Rachel shoved the remover into the cabinet above the sink. Like hell.

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59

She blew her hair partially dry, then worked her fingers through her curls as she contemplated her closet. She shoved aside hangers, smiling at the slinky black halter dress that all but jumped into her hand.

If any dress would slay him, that was it.

After using mascara, shadow, and lots of red lipstick to repair the damage crying had wreaked, she checked her watch. It was nearly eleven thirty, meaning she‟d be arriving at Shawn‟s at just about midnight.

Her lips curved. Fitting she‟d timed her arrival to the witching hour. Shawn Griffin was about to realize he‟d never tangled with one quite the likes of her.

* * *

Hell, that any of them had managed to laugh tonight was a minor victory in a night of bloody battles.

At a quarter to twelve, he e-mailed his father the rough ideas he‟d drafted for the auxiliary wings of the complex, then rose to take a hot shower. Since the air conditioning was going full blast in his suite, he figured using the tried-and-true warm water trick to send himself into blissful unconsciousness just might work.