Who Do You Love (Rock Royalty Book 7) (14 page)

Picking up her wine, she watched him over the rim. “I’m curious. How did you think it would go? Us? I mean before the situation with your cousin precipitated the end.”

The server came by and cleared their plates then tipped the rest of the wine between them. When she departed, Eamon twirled the stem of his glass in his long fingers, his contemplative gaze on the straw-colored liquid.

“I don’t know. I told you marriage isn’t a part of my future plans.”

“And you thought that’s what I would want?”

He shrugged. “I hope this doesn’t make me sound like an asshat, but I think that idea comes more naturally to your gender than to mine.” His gaze lifted to meet hers. “So what did you expect from us?”

“I was in the moment. Not thinking about…beyond.” His skeptical expression made her frown. “You don’t believe me?”

“It’s not that. I—“

“Let me tell you about how my mom met my dad. Just out of high school, she waitressed in a diner in Teeny Nowhere, Iowa. One day, a guy on a motorcycle comes in, his bike busted. He stays a few days in the motel next door while waiting on a part.”

Eamon’s eyebrows had risen as she set up the story.

She sent him a pointed look. “Sound familiar?”

“Here and there.”

“Well, the young lady was seduced…Yes, by the man, but more by the fantasy of the mysterious stranger riding into town. It’s a powerful one. So years later, like mother, daughter fell down a similar rabbit hole when there came a knock on her door. She…
I
enjoyed the slide.”

“You enjoyed the fantasy.”

“It was fun. A lark. A hoot. That’s not to say I wouldn’t have enjoyed all that hoot-ness to continue a while longer.” It was imperative she include that part, because the whole Satan’s Roadhouse, pleading for him to reconsider, the belting out of “I Can’t Make You Love Me” would make her a liar if she didn’t.

Cami looked down, cleared her throat, looked back up again. “But I wasn’t exactly demanding we set a date, was I?”

“No.” He studied her face as if looking for a crack in the account of her side of their affair. “So we’re…cool now?”

She nodded. Smiled—she was a professional showman’s daughter after all, and a performer in her own right. “Like ice.”

They decided to forego coffee and dessert for cognac on their suite’s terrace, just a friendly end to the evening around the blazing chiminea. As Cami rose from the table, she promised herself she’d exchange the lacy underwear for her regular cotton, wrap herself in the voluminous bathrobe, and exchange platonic chitchat as if Eamon was an old friend from a dozen years ago.

On the way out, he strolled just behind her, his fingertips touching the small of her back. At the hostess stand near the front of the restaurant there was a gathering, a back-up of people, apparently, waiting for tables.

“Shit,” Eamon said in her ear, halting beside a sturdy pillar.

He jerked them both behind it.

She glanced at him. “What’s wrong?”

His expression turned sheepish. “I forgot why we came here. We’re going to have to pass Gretchen—the woman I’m looking for. She’s on that bench by the entry, with two others.”

Cami peeked around the pillar. Four females close to thirty, in dresses and heels and with hair blown out. On each of their laps rested a copy of Donna Tartt’s
The Goldfinch
.

“Hmm. That looks more like a book club than a betrayal of marriage vows.”

“Yeah.” Eamon shoved his hand through his hair. “Voight is
such
an idiot.”

“Well, we can just swan on by, and if she notices, you can act all surprised.” She went wide-eyed and added a mock-gasp for effect, her hand at her chest. “Imagine meeting you here!”

“She’ll guess what’s going on,” he said in a gloomy voice. “He’s dumb as a brick, but she’s clever and knows him, me, what I do. It could ruin their chances for keeping their marriage together.”

“Is that such a—”

“Oh, hell.” He clutched one of her upper arms, drawing her tighter to him and both of them closer to the pillar.

“What now?” She glanced around.

“Don’t look. They’re coming this way.” He cursed under his breath and narrowed his eyes at her. “For the record, I’m going to blame this on you. You’re highly distracting.”

Hmm.
Inside, Cami’s ego preened. And as she sensed bodies approaching a plan formed. Her arms slid around his neck. Her hands forked into his hair, pulling his mouth close to hers.

“Pretend to kiss me.”

He went still a moment, then laughed softly as his lips descended. His wine-scented breath touched her face, and then they were locked together, one of his palms sliding to her hip to tuck her closer as his tongue teased the seam of her lips. She opened for him and he plunged inside, the kiss going from zero to sexy in two seconds.

She didn’t care. Her mind spun away on his taste, his scent, the delicious feel of his heat and strength surrounding her. When she started to go dizzy from lack of air, he broke the kiss, but his lips found her throat. Her hands clung to him, and she shivered as he licked a line toward her ear.

“Oh, God,” she whispered.

He stilled again, sucked in a quick breath, then straightened to press his forehead to hers. “Okay. Well.”

They both were breathing hard. “Did she…did we…” Cami couldn’t gather her thoughts. “It’s the suit,” she blurted out. “I might have a thing for guys in suits.”

He smiled, but his gaze held a serious intensity. “Is this thing a dark stranger thing?”

“Maybe.” Her head was still whirling. “Yes.”

“You know…” He bent his head again and kissed the side of her neck.

Her body felt like it had been dipped in heat then sprinkled with icy, ultra-sensation. Her nipples had hardened to tight points, and she felt swollen between her thighs. Her flesh pulsed there.

“You know?” she managed to prompt him, her voice a husky whisper. “You know… what?”

His mouth trailed to her ear. “We could play it again, Cam.”

She laughed—it sounded giddy—at the corny play on the old movie line, then groaned when his teeth grazed her lobe. “I don’t…we’re not together…”

He straightened to look into her eyes once more, and his forefinger slid beneath the strap of the dress to caress her bare shoulder. “I’m in a suit this time. I could be a different stranger than the one who showed up at the salvage yard.”

Oh, God. Temptation feathered down her spine, tickling her already sensitized skin. He could be another fantasy man, and Cami, like her mother before her, was a sucker for them. And would it be such a surprise to find herself a chip off Bean’s block? Her father had never been one to refuse his impulses, no matter how rash.

Maybe Eamon knew her answer without her saying so, because he took her by the hand and started leading her to the exit.

“I’ll be your dark stranger,” he said, in a voice promising shameless sin and potent reward. “And you can be the sweet lovely who brings me in from the cold.”

Chapter 7

Eamon keyed open the door of the suite and Cami stepped inside. When he lingered in the doorway, she turned to face him, all big eyes and soft lips. His sex went harder, pressing against the fly of his pants.

“Are you going to ask me in?” he said, his voice low and rough.

That’s how he felt, low and rough, because lust was grating on the ends of his nerves and he was that low…willing to bed her after breaking up with her.

But, God, he needed it. The stress of the last few days—the stress of every day since the Savage Sons had delivered their threat—was bottled up inside him. He needed an outlet.

He needed Cami.

“Are you going to ask me in?” he repeated.

She backed up a step, the space she left for him the invitation he wanted, but he hesitated another moment, long enough for her to grasp the end of his tie and yank him over the threshold.

An interesting show of aggression.

Then more true to form, she dropped the fabric, her expression turning uncertain. Biting back his smile, he pushed the door shut behind him without breaking eye contact with her. Their gazes locked, she moistened her lips with her tongue, the nervous gesture making him feel tender and even hornier.

Driving Cami past her doubts and inhibitions had always aroused the hell out of him.

Sometimes it took just a touch—a firm grip around her wrist or his palm sliding beneath her hair to cover her nape.

Other times required more finesse. Now, he went that route, keeping his distance from her and breathing slowly to calm his lust. “So…” He glanced around the room. “Do you come here often?”

It took her a minute, then she recognized the play, and he saw some of her tension abate.

“A guy I…I used to date brought me here.”

Skirting her, he walked farther into the living space, dimly lit by a lamp beside the couch and another over the small bar. As he moved, he shrugged out of his suit jacket and tossed it over a nearby chair. His tie followed, and then he unfastened the top buttons of his shirt.

Cami stared as if he’d stripped down to skin.

He raised an eyebrow at her then nodded toward the bar. “Something to drink?”

She bobbed her head. “Sure.” Then, as if remembering her role was as hostess, she gestured toward the bottles and glasses. “Please. Pour what you like for both of us.”

Instead of two snifters, he made a generous pour from the brandy into a single balloon glass. Putting a wide berth between them again, he approached the doors that led to the private terrace. Walls on either side made it a cozy outdoor space, though the latticed roof allowed for glimpses of the night sky and the diamond-bright stars.

“I’ll light the fire,” he said, reaching for a knob.

“Good idea.” She followed him out.

He set the liquor on the small table between two cushioned chairs and reached for the matches to light the freestanding clay fireplace. The fuel in its belly quickly caught, and flames cast orange and yellow shadows around the small area.

“Warm enough?” he asked, casting her a look.

“I’ll be fine.” She perched on a seat.

He took the other, then picked up the glass.

“I’ll test,” he said, and took a swallow of the aromatic spirits. Then he passed her the glass, turning it so her lips would touch the same spot as his.

Hokey as shit move, but he liked the idea of it, and so did she because she made sure that her mouth drank from the same side. Then she set aside the glass, and he noted the trembling of her hands.

“You’re cold,” he said and, frowning, patted his knee. “Come sit with me.”

Whether she needed comfort from the night temperature or from her nerves, she practically dove into his lap.

Ahh
, he thought, as his arms closed around her.
This is right. This is good.

Inhaling, he breathed in the scent of her hair and felt another shiver wrack her body. His arms tightened. “It will be okay,” he said, whispering into her ear.

She grabbed up the snifter, took another bracing swallow.

Eamon extracted the glass from her hand. “Not so fast,” he chided. “We have all night.”

Bending his head, he placed his lips against the side of her throat, giving the tender skin a slight suck.

“Oh, God.” She leaned into him. “You’re good at that.”

“Was the last guy so bad?” he teased.

“No, he was good, too,” she said. “But before that, paper doll sex.”

Huh?
He craned his neck to look at her. “What’s paper doll sex?”

“Flat. Two flat figures mashed together. Tab A into Slot B.”

He laughed. “I thought it might be some kind of weird kink you learned in the Canyon.”

Cami shook her head. “I tried spying a time or two, but I made too much noise moving around in the dark. I was always apprehended by Gwen, or the people I wanted to catch scampered off before I could get a real eyeful.”

“I can see the source of your curiosity and frustration,” he murmured. He nuzzled her temple. “You needed more experiences. More dimensions.”

“I—
oh
.” Her head tilted to give him better access as his mouth feathered over her throat to her ear.

One hand slipped into the bodice of her dress to cup her breast. “What do you want me to do to you, baby?”

She squirmed, her ass pressing against his cock. “I can’t…”

His fingers slid into the cup of her bra to enclose her nipple. Her body froze, and he didn’t hesitate to squeeze.

“What turns you on?”

She moaned, wiggling as he continued to work the tight nub. “You…know.”

“How could I?” Now he used his free hand to push the dress’s straps down her shoulders. Then he worked the bodice below her breasts until her lacey bra was exposed to the air and his eyes, his other fingers still teasing her nipple beneath the stretchy fabric. “We’ve only just met.”

The back of her head pressed hard to his shoulder, and he could tell she was riveted by the sight of him in possession of her flesh. But he wanted her to see better. More.

Yanking down the cup of her bra, he tucked it so the fabric plumped her breast to prominence. Firelight played over her creamy skin and peachy nipple. He strummed it with his thumb and then plucked it with his fingertips. Cami’s hips rolled, her bottom unwittingly stroking the column of his cock.

Closing his eyes, he swallowed his groan, then tried recalling his place in the script.

“Have you ever had stranger sex before now?” he asked, and placed kisses on her cheek, on the corner of her mouth, and on her jaw.

“Once,” she said faintly. Her right hand clutched his knee, the left gripped the arm of the chair. “One time, I had sex with a man I’d never met before.”

“Yeah?”

He worked the second bra cup over the other breast. They were both exposed now, but her arm movements were hindered by the straps of her dress that rode just above her elbows. A minimal restraint, but still her breath shuddered in and out of her lungs, causing the sweet mounds of flesh to tremble.

Eamon leaned down to nuzzle the soft side of one. “Was he a suit like me?”

“A suit?” she repeated faintly. “No.”

“Tell me about it.”

He adjusted her on his lap then sucked a nipple into his mouth, nursing at it softly. Cami’s hand wove into his hair, clutched. Pulling away, he kissed the wet tip.