Secrets to Hide 2: Naughty Little Christmas (13 page)

“What?” His tone was sharp, edgy. When he swung around to face Harley, the quirk of her lips told him exactly what she thought of his impatience. Damn it, didn’t she realize how much he wanted her? But then she glanced up shyly, her questioning look taking in the fluorescent ball of mistletoe hanging from the ceiling in the hallway entrance, and his impatience fizzled into anticipation.

Harley raised an eyebrow. “I’ve never been kissed under the mistletoe,” she said, a hint of uncertainty coloring the words.

God almighty. “No?”

“No.”

He squeezed his eyes shut. She really was going to be the death of him. Swinging her around so that his back was to any passersby, he opened his eyes and met hers. Anticipation, need. Life. So much life glinted in those eyes. He cupped her jaw. “Well, Wonder Girl,” he said, the teasing nickname somehow sensual, reverent, “under the mistletoe it is.” And he kissed her.

Her lips tasted of strawberries and cream. Perfect. Fucking fantastic. He swirled his tongue in the richness of her mouth and felt his knees go weak. Their bodies lined up perfectly when he dragged her into him—thank God for stilettos. The soft triangle of her pelvis cushioned his aching erection, and when she wiggled even closer, he thought the top of his head might just blow off. Which head was a matter for debate at the moment, and frankly he didn’t care as long as something on him exploded, and soon.

Harley met his tongue with her own, dueling for ground until she sneaked in, licking the roof of his mouth, nipping his bottom lip with her teeth. The quick bite of pain made the room spin. He choked on a gasp and pushed against her, needing a surface, any surface, as long as it meant he could get inside her now. Only the sudden crackle of the sound system, the DJ’s booming “Ladies and gentlemen, your attention please!” kept him from stripping her right there in the club.

“Shit!” Nerves jangling with need, he stepped back, shaking his head in the hope that it would finally get on straight. Over Harley’s moan came a second interruption.

“Ladies and gentleman, we will now make our way to open seating for the night’s main event.”

But Damien had a main event of his own in mind. He was done waiting. Lenore could close up the club, and he’d text Daniel in a bit to say good-bye, assuming he could think by then. He sincerely hoped he and Harley would be blowing each other’s minds, among other things, late into the night. His whisper in her ear was husky with all the things that fantasy did to him, all at once. “Let’s go.”

Harley nodded her assent, making him feel about ten feet tall. He didn’t lead her this time; instead he nudged the small of her back, urging her forward—and giving him time to calm the hell down. He was so primed, so desperate that the mere touch of her body against his might set him off like a teenage boy at the first sight of a
Playboy
centerfold—and he had no intention of ending things between them anywhere near that fast, not if he had anything to say about it.

The twenty-yard hallway seemed to stretch out forever. When they finally made it to the door to the employee parking lot, Harley fumbled the knob, hands shaking too much to get a good grip. Damien did it for her, his hand over hers, and together they opened the door and moved out into the night. A confetti of snowflakes dusted them immediately. The crystals settled in Harley’s hair, diamonds that sparkled in the dim light of a streetlamp on the far corner. She shivered in the chill air, and he reached out, wrapping an arm around her bare shoulders, pulling her securely against his side, into his heat. Her arm circled his waist, their steps settling into a matching rhythm that kept them close together.

Approaching the rental car, Damien fished in his pants pocket for the keys. Before he could grasp them, Harley swung around in front of him, blocking his path, and glanced up from under long, snow-damp lashes. “Let me.”

Deft fingers skimmed his wrist, his hand, inched into his pocket to grasp his key ring. Damien’s brain was frozen on the fact that her hand was inches away from his dick, which jumped at the knowledge. Harley showed no such paralysis. Dragging the ring from his pocket, she let a smile curve her lips. “Looking for these?”

“What do you think?” Without reaching for the keys, he stepped close. His chest brushed her breasts, that single touch enough to push him right back to the brink of release. Clamping down hard on the need, he backed Harley up until her hips met the hood of the car and his hips met hers. Yes, perfect alignment, he thought as he began to rock his rigid shaft against her heat.

Harley gasped. She tilted her pelvis to cradle him, countering his movements with a sinuous advance and retreat of her own. He watched the pleasure flicker in her eyes, watched her head fall back and her mouth fall open as he bent his knees and notched his shaft into the apex of her thighs to hit her just right. To hit him just right. His eyes rolled back in his head as the burn of impending orgasm settled at the base of his spine, urging him into hard, driving strokes that spread the flames beneath his sensitive skin. One more thrust, just one more, and he might very well go insane—or die one very happy man.

Desperate to keep control, he shifted quickly, turning Harley to face away from him. Pressure in the middle of her back eased her lower, onto her forearms, draping her body over the hood of the car. Leaning into her, his groin pressed to her backside, he ran his hands from her shoulders to the narrow dip of her waist, around to her flat belly, mapping the beauty before him like a blind man desperate to see. He cupped the heavy weight of her dangling breasts and pinched the taut nipples until they stabbed his palms. The evidence of her hunger met its match in his rock-hard shaft nestled right in the cleft of her ass. The sweet squeeze of her cheeks surrounding his dick forced a groan from deep in his throat.

Breathe. Breathe, damn it!

For a moment he thought he’d be okay, thought he could keep control, but then Harley did this little shimmy that hit the so sensitive spot just under the head of his erection, and Damien lost it. His fingers flexed, dug deep into the flesh of her breasts to pull her down and back, grinding her against him, a move he was helpless to curb. All he could think about, all he knew was the shattering release pounding through his groin. Instinctively he thrust forward, some small, still-conscious part of him shocked, but he needed the friction, needed the contact to silence the crashing orgasm that held him in its teeth. Only when the last pulse squeezed his shaft was he capable of gentling his touch, but instead of drawing away, he pressed his chest to her back and slid his hands down to flatten across her belly, keeping her close, keeping the contact that had suddenly become just as necessary as breathing.

A hard shiver racked Harley’s frame, dragging him from his postorgasmic haze. “Jesus, you’ve got to be freezing.” He drew her with him as he stepped back, then released her to slide off his thin silk shirt. It wouldn’t help much, but anything was better than bare skin in the snow. He silently cursed himself as his flesh goose pimpled in the cold air. The shirt could’ve wrapped Harley twice, but he simply slung it over her shoulders and tucked it closed in front before rubbing vigorously at her now covered arms.

Ignoring his rough hands, Harley stepped into his body. Her breath misted in the snowy air as she sighed at the contact. Damien wanted to step back, wanted to hide the evidence of his shameful loss of control, but Harley was having none of it. At his slight shift back, she raised her head, grabbed his jaw on both sides, and pulled his mouth down to meet hers.

Her taste exploded on his tongue, and hunger rose all over again. Tart like coffee, sweet like candy, she was as much a contradiction here as she was in the office. He ate it up, driving his tongue between her lips to delve deep, to find the source of what made him so crazy for her. All he found was Harley. She opened to his demand, meeting him force for force, seeming as desperate as he was to get so far inside each other that the boundaries between them disappeared.

Harley rose on tiptoe, aligning their bodies perfectly. Damien helped, cupping her ass in his hands and pulling her in tight. The action pressed the damp heat of his clothes against his crotch—and hers. Seeming to finally notice his predicament, Harley broke their kiss and stepped back.

“What…?”

Embarrassment locked his tongue, keeping him silent, even when Harley rested her tentative fingers against the evidence of his lack of control. She glanced up at him, but what he read in her eyes wasn’t amusement; it was amazement.

“For me?”

He swallowed the instinctive
who else?
, knowing it was a product of his mortifying predicament and not how he truly wanted to address her question. Instead he nodded, forcing himself to hold her gaze despite the blazing inferno lighting his cheeks.

The longer they looked at each other, though, the more her reaction seemed…off. Harley had practically grown up around groupies and horny musicians and probably just as much sex as drugs and alcohol; it was inevitable in the music scene. She should either be blasé or joking about what had happened, but instead she seemed…stunned. A snippet of conversation from their time in Denver crossed his mind, and he couldn’t keep himself from choking in surprise. “You were telling the truth that day, weren’t you?”

He couldn’t be wrong. The thought scared the shit out of him, but he had to know. “Not just that you hadn’t slept with customers, but you haven’t…haven’t—”

Now it was Harley’s turn to blush, embarrassment a dark stain across her cold skin. “No, I haven’t.”

Not even with Hank?
he wanted to ask but didn’t. Her expression confirmed the truth. Something suspiciously like satisfaction settled in his chest. Beneath her fingers, his dick firmed, hardened, and he watched her eyes round with surprise. Jesus. This night was gonna kill him for sure.

“Can I let you in on a secret?” he asked, forcing himself to a teasing whisper instead of the dark, possessive growl he wanted to use.

Harley’s laugh had brittle edges, but it was still a laugh. “Sure.”

Damien reached down and forced her hand more firmly against him. “I want to fuck you so bad I ache.” To put it mildly.

She squeezed him, just a little, just enough to make him swallow his tongue. Anticipation filtered back into her gaze. “I don’t think that’s exactly a secret.”

“Maybe not, but it’s true. So…”

“So…” A tiny grin tipped the corners of Harley’s mouth.

“So”—he glanced at his crotch, then back into her eyes—“let’s get out of here before I forget where we’re at and insist on a repeat performance.”

“Sure thing, boss.”

Chapter Six

Snow trickled down on them as Damien led her to the passenger side of the car. Harley wanted to stop, to let the soft flakes settle on her upturned face and figure out what the hell she was doing. Part of her screamed that tonight would change everything between them, that it was a risk—to her daughter, her heart, even her livelihood. A risk not worth taking.

Another part of her disagreed. It craved the experience with a savage fervor. That part could not get beyond the look on his face when she’d cupped him in her hand and experienced his hardening along with him. In a fundamental way she would not be the same woman after tonight. Their relationship would not be the same. The question was, could she be the woman she needed to be if Damien walked away from her—and Klio, once he learned of the baby’s existence—after he’d been a part of her?

She didn’t know. The only thing she knew was that sharing her body with him was going to happen, and she’d have to face the aftermath no matter what. For now, the “after” would have to wait.

She hesitated as a fleeting thought of Sonny crossed her mind, the twin she’d wished so desperately would be the soul mate Harley wanted. But Sonny had been unable to bond at the most fundamental levels. Harley never thought she’d be thankful for that, but tonight she was. Sonny had never connected with Damien the way Harley had. She never truly knew him. She’d had sex with him, but with no meaning, no depth. Hell, Damien didn’t even remember what Sonny looked like. Her sister had certainly been straightforward in her journal about her lack of connection to Damien, even to the point that his child had meant nothing to her, not even enough to make a phone call to let him know. What Harley and Damien had, whether deep or shallow, was already more than Sonny’d wanted. So no, Harley didn’t feel guilty or squeamish or jealous. Sonny was the past, as much as that fact tore her up inside. Her twin wasn’t a factor in whom Harley chose to have sex with, first time or not.

Damien had flushed red with embarrassment over his climax before they got in the car, but for Harley, it made him a little bit human. It relaxed something uncertain deep down inside her. He wasn’t perfect or perfectly controlled, and the fact that he wanted her enough to come just from making out with her? Wow.

She had a few moments to buckle and get more than a little nervous before Damien settled in the driver’s seat. Watching him maneuver the car, she felt her heartbeat accelerate. Soon she would see him naked, touch him, have him touch her. A shudder racked her, and not from the cold. She’d waited years to connect with someone deeply enough to be intimate with them, but right this moment, waiting thirty more minutes seemed impossible.

The drive to the hotel was short and silent but not strained. Damien held her hand in his, warm and secure. It was as if he knew her mind was buzzing a mile a minute and she needed to process it all before they arrived. All too soon, however, they pulled into valet parking, Damien handed over the keys, and she found herself in the elevator listening to the tick of each floor’s passing. When theirs finally came, it took all her control to step through the sliding doors and walk calmly toward the room that was Damien’s.

The heavy door closed behind them with a solid
kerthunk
. Harley advanced blindly, feeling young and stupid and uncertain. She could manage a two-band, thousand-seat concert, but having full-on sex for the first time appeared to be a whole other story. She didn’t realize how tightly she’d wound herself until Damien’s hands settled unexpectedly on her shoulders, causing her to jump.