CHAPTER NINETEEN
Shane
We agree to meet in the lobby at 30 Rockefeller Center at seven thirty, a little later than the rest of the guests invited for dinner and dancing. The elevators there chug away at all hours, carrying tourists to the observation decks high above the city and Rainbow Room patrons to the cocktail lounge and restaurant on the sixty-fifth floor. Tonight, though, both the lounge and the restaurant are rented out for the private event and the lobby is unusually deserted.
I arrive early—a curse inherited from Aunt Tansy, who insisted early was on time and on time was late—to find Jake already waiting for me.
Damn. The man is fine, sexy, and obsessively punctual.
Be still my beating heart.
My dragon leans against the far wall in a black dress jacket that hugs his broad shoulders. The golden lamplight caresses the elegant angles of his face, making him look just a little bit dangerous—like a 1920’s crime boss, or the detective who takes down the bad guys while remaining one risky decision above the law. He is fucking stunning, so gorgeous he literally takes my breath away.
I stand just inside the doorway, mouth opening and closing, lungs protesting being asked to process oxygen when there is a red-hot, five-alarm sex god smoldering at me a dozen feet away.
Jake seems to like what he sees, too. Or to like the idea of ripping the glittery silver cocktail dress off my body with his teeth and having me for dinner—forget the lobster and steak waiting sixty-five floors up. And oh do I relish that idea, too, so much I have to bite my bottom lip to keep from saying something completely inappropriate, like “let’s forget this party and go have crazy sexy times in the coat check.”
But as our eyes meet and hold, a thousand dirty thoughts flash through my mind, each one raunchier than the last. I’m so deep in the lust zone that I trip over my own feet and stumble a few steps toward the elevators.
Thankfully, the near-fall jumpstarts my lungs, sending oxygen rushing into my hormone-addled brain. By the time Jake’s fingers close around my upper arm, holding me steady, I’m only slightly light-headed.
His fingers squeeze gently. “You okay?”
“Yep. Yes,” I say, my voice breathy. “All good.”
“Are you sure? You seem nervous.”
I shake my head. “Nope. Not nervous. All fine.”
He lifts a brow as his fingers skim down my arm in a caress I feel everywhere, all at once.
Christ, does he have any idea what his touch does to me?
“Are you sure?” he asks. “Because you misplaced all the nouns in those last few sentences.”
I laugh. “Sorry. The first sighting of Man Pretty has the tendency to wreak havoc with my vocabulary,” I say, making an effort to form a complete sentence as I express my approval for everything he’s got going on. “You have taken hot to a new level tonight, my friend.”
His answering grin is a mixture of cocky and happy-to-please that is absolutely adorable. “I’m glad you approve.”
“Oh, I do. I really do.” My gaze flicks from the dark hair swept back from his forehead, to the clearly custom-made black jacket hugging his broad shoulders, to the gray slacks that leave absolutely nothing about Jake Falcone’s powerful thighs and stunning backside to the imagination.
But that’s just fine with me.
No feat of imagination could top the real life majesty of this man’s thickly muscled ass. Someone should make a cast of his backside and display it at the Met, title it “World’s Most Maximus Gluteus,” and preserve that posterior for posterity.
“Would you like me to turn around?” He smirks as he catches me leaning over to take in more of the view.
My cheeks heat as I shake my head. “Nah, that’s okay. I’ll have plenty of time to ogle you later, after you’ve had a few glasses of champagne and aren’t paying attention.”
His arm circles my waist, pulling me close until the heat of his body soaks through my clothes, warming all the places that got chilled in the cab on the way over. “You don’t have to wait. I like feeling your eyes on me. Gives me confidence.”
I huff as I roll my eyes, trying to pretend my heart isn’t beating between my legs and all my thoughts aren’t jumping the one-way train to Let’s Get It On-ville. “Because you’re soooo lacking in confidence.”
“I have my moments. Like anyone else.” His arm tightens around me. “But seriously, are you ready for this?”
“Am I ready for this?” I echo, thoughts heading off the rails again as I feel, hard against my hip, the evidence of how much the Dragon enjoys what I’ve got going on.
Jesus, the man is impressive, and it’s getting harder and harder to play it cool—pun intended. But do I even remember how to have wild, crazy, fuck-me-brainless sex after over a year of celibacy? For all I know, my vagina could be full of cobwebs or spider webs or actual spiders.
I mean, aside from Shrek-the-magical-green-vibrator and some tampons, it’s been a ghost town down there. Nothing sentient has done an exploratory mission in quite some time.
What if Jake discovers an entire colony of naked mole rats has set up shop in my vagina? Or something grosser than mole rats? Though I’m having a hard time thinking of something grosser than mole rats right now. They are so creepy and hairless and have those claws that—
“Shane?” Jake gives me a gentle shake.
“What?” I swallow, brow furrowing. “Did you say something?”
“I asked you if you thought we should bail before it’s too late?” he asks, casting a pointed look at the well-dressed couple ambling past us on their way to the elevator. “It’s okay if you’ve changed your mind.”
“No, I haven’t changed my mind.” I squeeze his arms through his coat, willing myself to pull it together and give him the reassurance he clearly needs. “I am so ready for this. We are so ready for this. Seriously, don’t worry. As soon as we get up there, I’m going to be the perfect girlfriend. I just…spaced for a second.”
While I was thinking about having wild, crazy, fuck-me-brainless sex with you, I add silently because confession, even silent confession, is good for the soul.
“You’re already perfect,” he says. “Just be yourself.”
“Damn.” I sigh, melting all over again. “I’m starting to see why you have such good luck with women, Falcone.”
That’s right, Shane, the less horny voice inside my head pipes up, remember how many women he’s had in his bed before you.
No matter how charming he is, the reality is that Jake Falcone is a hardcore womanizer, and the last woman he womanized is now completely unhinged. Men who sleep with unhinged people are not good first-lovers-after-a-long-dry-spell material, not to mention that he’s your client.
Client, Shane. This is business. Business!
I take a deep breath and am on the verge of finding my center when Jake cups my cheek in his big, warm hand and my blood starts buzzing all over again.
“I don’t want to talk about other women,” he says, the humor gone from his voice. “I don’t want to talk about them or think about them. I want to be here, with you, the only woman on my mind. And I’d sure like it if I were the only man on yours.”
“You are.” I shiver as his thumb brushes across my bottom lip. “I can safely say there isn’t a thought in my head right now that isn’t Jake flavored.”
His eyes darken. “Good. Let’s keep it that way.”
And then he kisses me, and I catch fire the way I always do. His tongue demands entrance to my mouth, and I melt into his heat, his hunger, into the magic of his hands pulling me closer and the mind-muddying electricity he sends dumping into my bloodstream.
Damn, this man can kiss.
He kisses me until I’m boneless, breathless, and spiders and mole rats are the furthest thing from my mind. I don’t have to worry about anything like that. Because Jake fucking Falcone is clearly a man who can handle anything that gets in his way.
“God, you drive me crazy,” he says as he pulls away, his jaw clenched tight and his hands tangled in my hair. “Absolutely fucking crazy. For the rest of the night, you’re mine, princess. Nothing is off-limits as long as it makes people believe in the fairy tale. You on board?”
“So on board.” I lean into him, body humming as I give up the fight to hold on to rational thought. “Yes. And double yes.”
“Yes, what?” His hand drops to my hip.
“Yes, to the fairy tale. Yes, to making people believe.”
“And yes to being mine.” His palm skims higher, his fingers molding to my ribs, making my nipples ache. “That’s what I want to hear, princess. That you’re mine.”
“I’m yours,” I say, the few semi-solid bones left in my body turning to lust mush. I’ve never been a fan of the “alpha male claiming his woman” bit, but I’m a fan of it now. A big fucking fan. Such a fan that I wouldn’t put up a fight if Jake lifted up my skirt and fucked me from behind on the way up to the Rainbow Room, just to prove how completely I belong to him.
God help me, but the thought of it is enough to make my panties even wetter.
“Good girl.” His teeth catch his bottom lip as he nods. “Though, I could stand to hear that a few more times on the way up.”
“And I could stand for you not to bite your lip anymore,” I say, allowing him to lead me over to the elevator bank.
“Why’s that?” He glances over his shoulder, smolder still in full effect.
“Because it makes me want to bite it,” I confess. “And maybe bite a few other parts of you while I’m at it.”
“I’ll want a complete list of those parts for approval later, but as of now all biting is on the table.” He smiles—a wicked, shameless smile that makes me laugh even as it contributes to the further ruination of my panties.
“Bad dragon,” I murmur as the elevator chimes. “Very bad.”
He winks. “I haven’t even gotten started yet, princess.” He takes my hand and pulls me into the empty elevator. Seconds later we’re zooming into the air, the car moving nearly as fast as the blood rushing through my veins.