J. Kenner - Heated

“Lived here,” Tyler said. “Kept his office and a suite of rooms. That was in the ’30s and ’40s. Later—” He cut himself off with a laugh. “Sorry. The Outfit is one of my obsessions.”

“It’s interesting stuff,” I said, filing that tidbit away for future reference. Not that it was very telling. All you had to do was look at Hollywood to know that most of the population was fascinated with organized crime.

“Architecture and real estate are my other obsessions,” he continued. “Put them together and I’m known to get carried away. The Drake is like a perfect storm. But that’s also one of the reasons I decided to stay here. This way,” he added, pushing open a door and revealing a hidden set of stairs. I eyed him curiously, but didn’t ask. And when he headed up the stairs, I obediently followed.

We emerged onto a landing for the next floor. As I followed him down the hall, I was going to ask why the elevator didn’t go this far, but he’d already unlocked the door to our destination and pushed it open. The moment I got a look inside that room—although the word “room” didn’t do it justice—all other thoughts left my head.

“Good god,” I said.

“Spectacular, isn’t it,” Tyler said, the appreciation clear in his voice.

“That pretty much sums it up.” The suite was decorated in shades of white and cream. The furniture looked old, and I assumed it had been selected to complement the hotel’s heritage. Or, for all I knew, maybe it was original. If so, it had been incredibly well-maintained.

Fresh flowers dotted all the surfaces. Artwork—mostly portraits and landscapes—hung in decorative groupings on the walls. Everything seemed rich and opulent, yet nothing seemed overdone.

“Wow,” I said.

Tyler nodded. “To be honest, it’s not my style. The architecture, yes. But my taste in furniture and interior design is more contemporary. But I can’t deny this works.”

“Yeah. It really does.” I stepped farther into the living area, trying not to be overwhelmed. Growing up, my dad’s idea of a fancy hotel for vacation was the Holiday Inn. And although my stepfather had money, I felt lucky if he remembered to give my mom cash for groceries.

Now I earned my own money, but I rarely had a reason to stay in a hotel, and when I did, I usually defaulted to the Holiday Inn. I was Daddy’s little girl, after all. And considering my skimpy cop paycheck, the price was right.

That’s not to say I hadn’t been in some pretty fancy apartments and hotel rooms. I worked homicide, and murder wasn’t picky about the price tag. But this room was beyond anything I’d ever seen. As far as I was concerned, I wasn’t standing in a hotel room at all. Instead, I’d been transported to an alternate universe.

I allowed myself one long, low whistle before turning to Tyler. “Let me guess. You’re really a foreign prince traveling incognito.”

“I’m not,” he said. “Nor would I want to be. I made my own way in the world. Family had very little to do with it.”

I heard the hard edge in his voice. “I’m sorry,” I said sincerely. “I didn’t mean to push a button.” I knew better than anyone that discussions of family could spiral down into unpleasant and unwanted territory.

I saw his chest rise and fall. “No, I’m sorry. My childhood should have been idyllic. It wasn’t.”

I nodded. I knew the feeling.

“It’s taken me a long time to cut loose from all those threads. But that has nothing to do with you and nothing to do with this room.” He took an appreciative look around. “It really is over the top, isn’t it?”

“Just a bit.”

He gestured toward a pristine white sofa that I realized was upholstered in silk. “Would you believe me if I told you that a prince really did live here once?”

I let my gaze linger on the various small treasures. Vases. Paintings. Fancy bric-a-brac. “I think he left behind some of the royal treasure. Wait, you’re serious?” I added, seeing the smug expression on his face.

“Cross my heart. A prince and a princess. They had a long-term lease, but decided not to renew when it came due about a year ago. The rumor is they’re going to spend a few years in a similar property in Paris.”

“So you decided that you needed to crash here after the engagement party? Soak up a little of that regal buzz?”

“Oh, it’s much worse than that,” he said. “I live here.”

I gaped at him. “Come again?”

“I needed a place to stay. And this was available. I love the convenience of living in a hotel. I love The Drake. And you have to admit, it’s got a stunning view.”

I glanced toward the window where Michigan Avenue’s lights twinkled like Peter Ustinov’s diamonds. “Yeah. It does.”

“Besides,” he added with a boyish grin, “it was too fucking cool to pass up.”

I laughed. “Can’t argue with that. But I thought you ran more contemporary. You don’t strike me as the kind of man who compromises on what he wants.”

“No,” he said, looking at me so intently I wasn’t sure if we were still talking about the room. Then his face cleared and he smiled. “But I’m only leasing the place for another six months.”

“And then?”

“Then I’ll see where the wind blows.”

“Away from Chicago?”

“No. I love it here. I grew up here.”

“Then surely you already have a house?” From my research, I knew he owned several properties across the city, and his current residence was listed in Old Irving Park. I was curious, though, what he was going to say.

“I did,” he said. “An awesome Victorian that I refurbished.”

“Did?” I repeated. “You sold it? Like a flip?”

“I still own it. But I won’t be moving back in.”

“No?” I moved to the couch and sat down. I leaned back, feeling more comfortable and at ease than I’d anticipated, all things considered.

“Sounds like there’s a story there. Care to share?”

“Let’s just say that I’m a sucker for a woman in need.”

“I’m intrigued. Tell me the rest.”

For a moment, I thought he would. Then he slowly shook his head. “No,” he said. “I don’t think so. I rather enjoy being the dark and brooding man of mystery.”

“You don’t seem dark to me,” I said, and I meant it. Oh, I had no doubt he had his hands in a number of illicit pies. And he definitely had an edge. I’d seen it myself when he’d rescued me from Reggie. But Tyler Sharp was a charmer at the core. Sophisticated. Smart. A hustler, not a thug.

“Everyone has a dark side,” he said. “Some people just hide it better than others.”

“That’s a rather pessimistic view of the world,” I countered.

“You disagree?”

I thought of my own dark side and the things that I kept hidden. I thought of my stepfather, and how the world had seen a hero when I had seen a monster.

“No,” I admitted. “I don’t.”

“And that sounds like a story as well. Don’t worry,” he added. “I’m not going to ask you to reveal your secrets.” His mouth curved up in the faintest of smiles. “Not yet, anyway. But I am going to ask you to do something else for me.”

He’d taken a step toward me as he spoke, and his voice took on a low, commanding quality. “Stand up, Sloane. Stand up, and take off your clothes.”

I had to take a deep breath and replay the words back in my head. “My clothes,” I said stupidly. “You want me to take off my clothes?”

“Oh, yes,” he said, as his gaze drifted over me with the same gleam of anticipation as a man about to unwrap a present. “I want it very much. But first things first. Stand up, Sloane.”

He held his hand out, gesturing for me to rise. I complied, though my legs were a bit unsteady, and once I was upright, he turned away from me and picked up the house phone. I heard him hit the button for the operator and then speak to someone, but the conversation was too fast and too low for me to make out.

Throughout it all, I simply stood there, a little shocked, a little frazzled, and, yes, more than a little aroused.

When he turned back, his eyes were flat, and his mouth curved down in the slightest of frowns. “My rules, Sloane. And though we got a little sidetracked, you did say that you wanted to play.”

I swallowed, but I lifted my chin. My body was flush, my skin hot. My fingers twitched as if reaching for my weapon, but at the same time I could imagine the dress sliding to the floor. Me stepping out of it, going to him, and folding myself in his arms.

Could imagine it—the touch of his mouth upon my breast, the caress of his fingers over my sex—and wanted it.

I was nervous. I was overwhelmed. But god help me, I was desperately turned on.

But we were playing a game now, and I wasn’t ready to concede victory quite yet.

For a moment, we just stood there at an impasse. Then he took a single step toward me.

“There are consequences for breaking the rules.”

I shivered as memories sliced through me, potent enough to cut me to pieces. Consequences. Yes, there damn sure were. But I wasn’t a child anymore. And I wasn’t hiding. Not now. This wasn’t about pain or about fear or about monsters who hid in the dark.

“Sloane?”

That was all he said, just my name. But I heard the worry underneath it. I didn’t want that—didn’t want him wondering about the secrets I held close, and didn’t want him backing off now, afraid that he’d pushed too far. That I’d changed my mind.

I hadn’t.

No matter what else, I wanted this. And not because of Amy. Not because I’d planned an op. But because I liked the way he made me feel, and because I wanted more. Break the rules? Yeah, where Tyler was concerned, I think that’s exactly what I wanted to do.

I lifted my head, managed a teasing smile. “Consequences?” I repeated. Slowly, I dragged my teeth over my lower lip. “Are you going to punish me?”

The corner of his mouth twitched. “I’d say that’s a fair assumption.”

His eyes roamed over me, the worry now gone, replaced by control and anticipation. We were playing now, and knowing that sent swirls of heat reeling through me.

“I wonder if that sweet ass of yours has ever been spanked.”

Oh. I felt an unexpected tingle at his words, but I wasn’t about to admit that. Instead, I casually lifted a brow. “So that’s the fetish.”

“No. Just a delight.”

The dark intensity of his voice kicked casual out the window, and that tingling increased to a low vibrato. “I wouldn’t know.”

“Wouldn’t you?” He closed the distance between us, then stopped in front of me, so close I caught the scent of him. The fading earthiness of his cologne was overpowered now by a sensual musk that made me want to lean closer and taste him.

“Interesting. And I like knowing that mine will be the first hand to redden that sweet backside,” he continued, as he reached behind me to briefly stroke my rear through the thin material of the dress.

I gasped, the sound both pleasure and surprise, and when Tyler smiled, I knew that I had lost this round.

“There’s another rule you broke,” he said. “Don’t lie to me about what you want. About what makes you hot.”

“I didn’t—I’ve never—”

“Maybe not. But you know you’d like it. You may not have been spanked yet, but I see the flush on your skin, the way your nipples are straining against your dress. You can imagine the sting, then the warmth after. You can almost feel the heat spreading through you. The way your body clenches with desire. You can imagine being naked across my lap, not knowing if I’m going to spank you or fuck you, but simply desperate for my touch.”

He paused, and I gulped in air, realizing with some surprise that I’d forgotten to breathe. “Jesus,” I murmured.

“Tell me I’m right. Tell me you want that.”

“Yes,” I whispered, because how could I lie when he’d already seen the truth?

“Then you’ll have it. But not now. Now, you’re going to strip.” He pulled the folded napkin with my note out of his pocket. “You said you wanted to play.”

“I did. I do. But I also expected you to keep your promises.”

He lifted a brow. “I see. And what promise have I broken?”

“In the corridor. You said you were going to strip me naked.” Desire cut across his face, and I took a step toward him, emboldened by victory. “You said you were going to stretch me out,” I said, as my blood burned with the memory of his words. “You said you were going to taste every delicious inch of me.”

I was right in front of him now, my head tilted up to see his face. His hands were in his trouser pockets, and he still wore the suit. He looked commanding and powerful and incredibly sexy, and I craved his hands upon me.