Seducing the Wolf (9 page)

“I didn’t expect to see you today,” she admitted.

Manning shifted closer. “Why not?”

“It’s Saturday. I thought you’d have plans.”

“I do. With you.”

Taylor arched a mocking brow at him. “What about the woman whose perfume I smelled all over your clothes yesterday morning?”

Surprise flickered in Manning’s eyes, but he recovered quickly to give her a look of exaggerated innocence. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Taylor snorted out a laugh. “Yeah, right!”

Manning had the grace to look sheepish as he propped his shoulder against the windowpane, drawing Taylor’s gaze to his tattooed bicep.

Before she could stop herself, she reached out and touched his arm, gently tracing a horseshoe-shaped brand that represented the Greek letter Omega.

“Did it hurt?” she asked, fingering the raised scar with part fascination, part concern.

“Nah,” Manning murmured.

“Liar.”

“I’m not lying.” He chuckled softly. “The smell of burning flesh was more alarming than anything.”

“I’ll bet.” Taylor smiled, letting her fingers trail down his arm to trace another intricate tattoo. “So you became an Omega man, huh?”

“Of course. It’s in my blood.” His voice deepened. “Among other things.”

Taylor slowly lifted her eyes, meeting his gaze. Her heart pounded as he placed his hand over hers, holding her fingers against the sinewy warmth of his skin.

“I don’t think you know,” he said huskily.

“Know what?” Taylor whispered.

“How good it feels to have you touch me again.”

Taylor’s stomach clenched, and she felt a tug of heated pleasure between her thighs. She stared at Manning for a breathless moment, then removed her hand from his arm and stepped back, nervously licking her lips.

“Um, maybe breakfast isn’t such a good idea.”

“Why not? Afraid to be alone with me?” Manning gestured around the suite. “Too late for that, isn’t it?”

Taylor frowned. He had a point.

Manning chuckled, brushing a strand of hair from her cheek. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. No matter how hungry I am, I won’t bite.”

Said the Big Bad Wolf to Little Red Riding Hood!

“The thing is,” Taylor blurted, “I was just about to order room service and—”

“I’m taking you to breakfast, Taylor,” Manning said, calm and implacable. “Now, you can leave this room walking beside me or tossed over my shoulder. It’s up to you.”

Taylor stared at him, her mouth agape. She didn’t know what shocked her more: his outrageous threat, or the quiver of arousal that curled through her at the thought of being overpowered by him.

“I don’t remember you being this bossy,” she grumbled.

He laughed softly. “You ain’t seen nothing yet, darlin’. Now go take a shower and get dressed.” His eyes slid over her. “I don’t know how much longer I can tolerate seeing you in another man’s shirt.”

Taylor swallowed hard, then left to do as she’d been told before she got into any more trouble than she was already in.

8

S
he lingered in the shower, acutely aware of Manning waiting for her beyond the locked bathroom door.

As she slowly lathered herself with scented soap, she couldn’t help imagining his big hands on her body, sliding over her wet skin. She imagined him soaping her breasts and stomach and between her thighs. She imagined him kneeling before her with water streaming down his face and dripping off his thick black lashes as he explored her sex with deep, languorous strokes of his tongue.

The images turned her on so hard and fast that her nipples tightened and her clit swelled.

Biting her lower lip, she closed her eyes and tilted her face up, letting the hot water pour over her aroused body. When she was done, she turned off the water, then stepped out of the steamy stall and wrapped a towel around herself. Her pulse was beating erratically and her breathing was shallow.

Wiping the condensation off the bathroom mirror, she stared back at the reflection of a woman with flushed cheeks and hungry eyes.

And she wondered how the hell she was supposed to get through any meal with Manning.

Get a grip, Taylor
, she silently admonished herself
. You’re an accomplished violinist. You’ve traveled around the world and performed for kings and queens, prime ministers and sheikhs. You can handle having breakfast
with your childhood sweetheart!

God, she hoped so.

Twenty minutes later, Taylor emerged from the bathroom wearing a pink tank top paired with a fitted black maxi skirt and flat sandals. Her hair was twisted into a loose topknot with a few wispy tendrils framing her face. She’d applied makeup sparingly—a swipe of mascara to her long lashes, clear gloss on her full lips and a dusting of blush to accentuate her high cheekbones. She’d deliberately gone for soft and pretty rather than sultry and sexy, because the last thing she wanted was to send the wrong signal to Manning.

After tossing a few essential items into a braided handbag, she took a deep breath to shore up her courage, then stepped from the bedroom.

Manning sat on the sofa thumbing through messages on his cell phone. When Taylor appeared, he glanced up and froze.

“All set,” she announced brightly.

Manning rose from the sofa, never taking his eyes off her. “You look beautiful,” he said, low and deep.

“Thank you.” Taylor willed her pulse to slow. “Ready?”

His eyes glittered. “Absolutely.”

They left the suite and walked down the corridor to the bank of elevators. As Manning pressed the call button, Taylor’s cell phone erupted with Bach’s Double Violin Concerto, a stately and dignified piece that reminded her of Aidan. Which was why she’d made it his ringtone.

Her face heated with guilt as she dug the phone out of her handbag. After hesitating for a moment, she hit the answer button. “Hey, there.”

“Hey, sweetheart,” Aidan greeted her. “Just wanted to let you know that I arrived.”

“Oh, good. How was your flight?”

“Short and sweet.”

Taylor smiled. “The best kind.”

“You can say that again.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Taylor could see Manning watching her, blatantly listening to every word. Feeling self-conscious, she discreetly angled her body away from him.

“Are you on your way to the hotel?” she asked Aidan.

“Yeah.” Hearing the ding of the arriving elevator, he asked curiously, “Where are you?”

“Um”— Taylor glanced back at Manning —“I’m just heading out to get some breakfast.”

“From where?”

“Oh, um, I haven’t decided.” Taylor stepped into the elevator with Manning close behind her. He smelled so good, she felt slightly intoxicated. “Somewhere nearby.”

“Sounds good. And speaking of good,” Aidan added, his voice dropping to an intimate register, “I really enjoyed last night.”

Taylor swallowed. “Did you?”

“Thoroughly.” Aidan chuckled. “Didn’t you?”

“Of course. Always.” Taylor met Manning’s eyes, then quickly looked away.

“I didn’t want to leave you this morning,” Aidan told her. “I miss you already.”

Fresh guilt swept over Taylor, stinging her cheeks. “I miss you too.” The lie sat heavy on her tongue, and she hated herself for that. “Listen, I’ll call you when I get back to the hotel.”

“All right,” Aidan said. “Enjoy your breakfast.”

“Thanks, baby.” Taylor hung up and put away her phone, then trained her gaze on the electronic panel above the elevator doors.

“Why didn’t you tell him the truth?” Manning murmured.

Taylor reluctantly turned her head to meet his dark, knowing gaze. “What?”

“Why didn’t you tell your boyfriend you were having breakfast with me?”

She blushed, biting her lip. “I…I didn’t want to upset him,” she admitted.

“You don’t think he’d approve?”

“Would you?” Taylor countered.

Manning lifted his eyes from her glistening bottom lip and slowly shook his head. “Not a chance in hell.”

They stared at each other.

The space between them was so thick Taylor marveled that she could breathe the air.

When the elevator doors opened onto the lobby, Manning placed his hand at the small of her back and gently steered her forward. The heat of his touch sent shivers down her spine. She’d never been more acutely conscious of her body, of the delicate skin between her thighs. As she walked she could feel the plump folds of her sex, warm and moist. She’d worn a thong to prevent panty lines, but she might as well have been naked beneath the snug skirt.

Aidan never made her feel naked. Not the way Manning did.

When they emerged from the hotel, there was a Bentley limo waiting in the circular drive. An older black gentleman in a crisp black uniform held the back door open.

“Taylor, I’d like you to meet Mr. Haley,” Manning introduced the driver.

Taylor smiled warmly. “How do you do, Mr. Haley?”

He bowed gallantly. “It’s an honor to finally meet you, Miss Chastain.”

Before Taylor could wonder what he’d meant by
finally
, Manning gently helped her into the backseat of the limo.

She looked around the luxurious interior, stunned into speechlessness.

Sumptuous black leather bench seats curved around a romantic table set for two. The table was draped in white linen and adorned with fresh-cut white roses and candles flickering softly in small glass bowls. There was champagne on ice, and a delicious mélange of aromas wafted up from an assortment of covered dishes.

“Wow,” Taylor whispered as Manning slid into the seat beside her. She shook her head dazedly. “I wasn’t expecting this.”

“No?” Manning’s eyes twinkled. “What were you expecting?”

“I don’t know. I thought we’d just—” She broke off as the melodious notes of a violin concerto began playing softly in the background. A thrill of pleasure ran through her when she realized that the original piece was her own.

Observing her delighted expression, Manning smiled quietly. “I love all of your recordings, but ‘Transcendence’ is one of my personal favorites. It’s beautiful...evocative...triumphant.” He shook his head. “I get chills every time I hear it. Which is often.”

Taylor stared at him, awash with memories of him sitting in the front row during her recitals. She remembered how intently he’d watched her, never fidgeting, barely seeming to breathe as he listened to her play. She’d instinctively focused on him, letting him be her anchor as her fingers flew over the strings of her violin. And when she’d strummed the last chord, he was always the first one on his feet, his eyes shining with fierce pride as he applauded for her.

The memory brought a lump to her throat, and she swallowed hard to clear it as Manning gazed at her. When he reached out to brush his thumb along the line of her jaw, her skin tingled and her pulse raced.

“I’m glad you’re here, Taylor,” he said softly.

“Me too,” she whispered, meaning it.

His eyes roamed across her face, tracing her features. “Why don’t you put any photos of yourself on your album covers?”

The question caught her off guard. “Photos?” she repeated blankly.

He nodded. “Most artists do, don’t they?”

“I suppose.” She paused for a moment. “I’ve always felt that it’s not about me. It’s about the music. Unlike pop artists, I’m not necessarily trying to sell an image. The people who enjoy my music don’t care how I look, for the most part.”

Manning nodded slowly. “You don’t have any pictures on your website either.”

Taylor stared at him. “Have you been searching for pictures of me?”

His small smile was rueful, shadowed with pain. “No, I haven’t,” he murmured. “I generally try not to be a glutton for punishment, though I’m not always successful.”

Taylor swallowed hard. She knew all about being a glutton for punishment, didn’t she?

Manning stared into her eyes a moment longer, then said softly, “Let’s eat.”

She nodded, watching as he reached across the table and began uncovering the silver dishes arranged on the table.

“I hope you’re hungry,” he told her.

“I am now,” she said, surveying the lavish selection of crêpes drizzled with chocolate, lobster quiche, eggs Benedict, seasoned home fries, bacon and fresh fruits. “Everything looks and smells delicious.”

Manning smiled as he prepared a plate for her. “I thought we could have breakfast on the way to our destination.”

Taylor eyed him curiously. “What’s our destination?”

“Someplace I think you’ll enjoy.”

“So mysterious,” Taylor teased. “You’re not going to tell me?”

“Eventually.” Manning set the plate down in front of her and winked. “
Bon appétit
.”

“
Merci
.” Taylor smiled at him as she picked up her fork. “
Tu parles français
?”

“Do I speak French?” He chuckled, filling her wineglass. “Not enough to impress you.”

She gave him a saucy look. “Are you trying to impress me, Manning?”

“I thought that was obvious.”

Taylor laughed, cutting into a red velvet crêpe filled with mascarpone cream. She slid the fork into her mouth and let out an appreciative moan. “Oh. My.
God
.”