Lauren Blakely - After This Night

He crinkled his nose as if her words didn’t compute. “My friend?”

“The lawyer who runs people down for you? You said he tracked down intel on people you weren’t sure about.”

“Yeah, my friend Cam. He can get the goods on anyone.”

Julia dug into her small satin clutch purse and grabbed her phone. She thrust it at him. “Call him. The guy is Charlie Stravinski, he owns Mr. Pong’s restaurant in China Town,” she said, rattling off the address. “He also owns Charlie’s Limos. I’m sure your friend can verify who he is. That’s the guy who owns me.”

“Julia,” he said softly, his voice strained, and that sound was terribly familiar. It felt lethal. It was the sound of his voice when he ran. It was the way he’d spoken to her on the street. She tensed all over, and she wished she could unwind the last fifteen minutes of honesty, zip them up and toss them in a body bag into the ocean. She should have continued leaving him in the blissfully ignorant state that made him jet out to San Francisco to see her. He’d been falling for her; she could see it, feel it, sense it. Now she’d shattered what they could have had. Whoever said honesty was the best policy didn’t have the mob on her tail.

He breathed out hard, pressed his lips together, and seemed to be debating. “Julia,” he said again, his expression softer. “You don’t have to prove it. I came out here because I trust you, and if we’re going to be together the way we want, the way I want, the way you want, I’m not going to ask you to prove who some guy is.”

But she needed him to know she wasn’t making up Charlie. “It’s important to me that you know this for certain and not just because I said so. I need to have proven myself to you. Call your friend, give him the info, and you’ll know I’m not lying. I have a price tag on my head.”

It was almost too crazy to believe, but the truth was messy. Lies were ironclad. They added up too neatly. Lies were padded so thick they became airtight and couldn’t breathe. The truth was frayed, like the tattered end of a rope. The truth was full of holes that were evidence of its veracity. Still, he could tell proof was vitally important to her, so he pulled his own phone from his pocket and dialed Cam.

“Hey man, can you run a quick check on someone for me?”

“Abso-fucking-lutely for you,” his friend said in his gregarious voice.

Clay gave him the basic details. “Just let me know what kind of business he’s running. Doable?”

“This is easy. I’m in front of my laptop right now, and will run a few quick searches. That is, if my lady friend doesn’t come back and try to distract me.”

Clay smiled briefly. “Have fun with Tess. But take care of me too.”

“You bastard, you owe me so much. I love it when you owe me. I love running down shit for you because it gives me one more thing to add to my totals. There’s only one other person I do this for free for,” Cam said, his voice stretching across the country like a big old Texas-style hug.

“Who’s that?”

“I’m not saying but she’s a lot prettier than you.”

“I should hope so.”

He hung up, and returned to Julia. She looked different than she had before. She’d always been tough, strong, a woman of the world. Now she looked empty, as if she’d shed all her emotions and replaced them with cool blankness. He reached for her, gripping her arms gently but firmly as he kept his eyes fixed on her. “That story is crazy, and I hate what he did to you and I hate that anyone wants to hurt you, and here’s the thing—I won’t let them now. You know that, right? You’re with me, and that means I’m here to help you. You tried to protect me and that was the most adorable, sweetest, sexiest thing anyone has ever done, but you don’t have to because that’s my job. Got that?”

She said nothing, just stared hard at him. She was shutting down, and he was having none of that. Not after she’d finally opened up. “I’m not running,” he said firmly, refusing to let her look away. “I’m here for you. I’m here with you, and I want to help you. That’s what I do. That’s what I want to do for you.”

“Why?” She crossed her arms over her chest.

“Why?” he said, his voice louder. He was going to have to make this abundantly clear. “Because I flew here to see you. Because you are under my skin. Because this fucking bastard left you with a shit ton of problems and if I ever find him I will make sure he pays. And because you have the mafia after you.”

“That doesn’t scare you? Make you want to run?” She shot him a challenging stare, almost as if she were daring him to walk away.

“No,” he said crisply.

There wasn’t a chance in hell that was happening. He straightened his spine, planted his feet wide, making it clear in every way that he was staying. “It makes me want to stay.”

“Why do you want to help me?”

He shook his head in frustration, but deep down he understood why she was behaving like this. She’d admitted something terribly private, and self-preservation was familiar ground for her.

“May I remind you of your toast in there?” He tipped his chin to the reception. Through the glass, the guests were still spinning on the dance floor, the twinkling lights illuminating their steps. Waiters moved nimbly about, passing out appetizers. “Common interests and passion? Ring a bell?” he said, waiting for her to acknowledge what she’d said a mere hour ago. She nodded once. “I feel the same.”

She didn’t answer him, so he reached for her hands, unpeeled them from her chest, and drew them behind her back.

“Now, don’t go cold on me. If you do, I will have to tie your hands the next time I fuck you,” he said, fixing her with an intensely serious look.

Her lips quirked up, as if she were trying hard to hold in a smile. “That’s a promise, gorgeous,” he added.

“But that’s a promise I like,” she whispered, and her words were a straight shot to his groin. They had to have set some kind of record for most hours being near each other without tearing off clothes. He pressed his hips against hers, holding her in place, watching her eyes go hazy as she felt him.

“Now listen. I made the phone call you asked me to make. I don’t care right now about what Cam is doing, or finding out, or anything. I care about you, woman. And I haven’t fucked you in a month, so if I were you I’d be thinking about how you’re going to spend the rest of the reception without any underwear on because it’s about to come off.”

“Is that a promise too?” she asked, and the playfulness he knew and longed for had returned to her voice.

“Yes. Now I’m going to deliver on it.” He grabbed her hand and linked his fingers through hers, guiding her across the lawn, past the reception hall, and to a back door that led down a carpeted hallway. This was the kind of place that had swank bathrooms, and that was what he needed right now. He walked quickly, scanning the area for an opening. When he spotted a bathroom, he knocked once, opened the elegant white door, and locked it quickly behind them.

The bathroom was small with marble floors and a sink that had just enough room for Julia to perch on. He lifted her up onto the edge of the vanity.

She was trembling.

Concern sliced through him. He lifted her chin gently. “You okay?”

She nodded, but didn’t speak.

“Julia, what is it?”

She shook her head, and seemed to swallow back a tear. “I’m sorry, I’m just super emotional today.”

He leaned into her, resting his forehead against hers. “It’s okay to be emotional. Your sister got married, and you shared something intense with me.”

She reached her arms around his waist, her hands gripping the back of his white shirt. She still wore his suit coat and looked unbelievably hot in it. “And I want you to make love to me right now,” she said in a breathless voice, her cheek pressed against his.

“Then I will make love to you,” he said, bringing his hands to her face. He cupped her cheeks, and raised her chin so she met his eyes. “You’re so fucking beautiful,” he said, the words spilling out without control. He had to say it, had to tell her over and over.

“So are you,” she said, and ran her hands down the buttons on his shirt, her fingers reaching his waistband. She unhooked his belt, then in seconds she was unzipping him, reaching a hand into his briefs.

His head fell back when she touched his cock for the first time in a month. He groaned as her soft, nimble fingers gripped him. She stroked him up and down, and he could almost stay like this because the feel of her hand on him was like a quick dive into a zone of white-hot pleasure. He rocked into her hand, and she gripped him tighter, making a fist that felt so fucking good wrapped around him.

Far too good.

Somehow, the part of his brain that wasn’t drugged out on her sent a message to his hand, and he wrapped it around hers, making her stop. He shook his head, narrowing his eyes at her. “Now, Julia. You’re not playing fair, and when you don’t play fair, it means I’m going to have to take matters into my hands.”

“What do you mean?”

“It means,” he said, sliding off his belt, watching her eyes widen with lust as he dangled it in front of her, “that you’re wearing this.”

A wicked grin played across her lips and she wriggled closer. “Where?” she said breathily and he loved how she went with it. She didn’t freak out. She wanted this kind of play. With his free hand he traced a line down her cheek, savoring her reaction as she shivered, leaning her face into his touch.

“Your hands,” he said, reaching for them and placing a kiss on the inside of each of her wrists before he ran the leather along the outside, wrapping it around once, twice, and carefully pulling the end through the buckle. He gave it a good tug to make sure it was secure, but not so tight that the leather would dig into her skin.

“Now what?” she asked, holding out her bound hands in front of her.

“Now this,” he said, gently pushing up the fabric of her dress, inch by inch, revealing more of her delicious skin. When he reached the apex of her thighs, he breathed in deep as a bolt of lust slammed into his body. “Keep your hands in your lap, Julia. Don’t move them,” he said, and kneeled down in front of her. “Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“Don’t move your hands at all.”

“I won’t,” she said, and her soft voice was a promise.

“Open your legs for me.”

She parted her legs wider, spreading open for him as she sat perched on the sink, her immobile hands against her belly. He pushed the skirt to her waist, and ran his nose along the outside of her underwear, inhaling her, and letting her flood his senses completely. She gasped sharply. The sound of her pleasure tore through him like electricity.

He looked up at her to see her eyes floating shut. “Watch me,” he commanded, gripping her thighs in his hands. “Watch me as I make you come with your panties on.”

“What are you going to do to me?” she asked breathily.

“I just said what I’m going to do to you. Did you think I was joking?”

She shook her head, and he flicked his tongue across the panel of her panties, wet already with her heat. “I can taste you even with your underwear on,” he murmured, his mouth against her. “I can make you shudder and writhe without even touching your pussy.”

She moaned, a desperately needy whimper of desire. “You can. Yes, you can.”

“You are so hot for me right now, aren’t you?” he said, flicking his tongue against the swollen outline of her clit. She cried out a yes, and tried grabbing at his hair with her tied-up hands, managing to brush a few strands. He looked up at her. “Let me,” he growled. “Let me control your pleasure.”

He returned his mouth to her legs, tasting her once more through the cotton. She was so wet her panties were soaked through. The scent of her arousal washed over him, desire coursing thickly through his veins. He pressed his hands on the inside of her thighs, spreading her wider, lavishing fast, quick flicks against her wet center. It was as if the scrap of fabric was no longer there. He could taste her juices on his tongue, her desire so intense that she cried out loudly with every touch. Panting hard, she tried to grab at his hair again. He gently swatted her hands away. “Let go,” he said roughly. “Let go so I can bring you there.”

“Bring me there, Clay,” she groaned as she wriggled her hips into his face, trying to get closer to the source of her pleasure. “Please bring me there.”