Cherish Hard
Page 13
Ísa watched her friend freeze as she came face-to-face with the man at whom she’d been staring earlier. The scruffy-jawed hunk smiled and said, “Here.” He handed over a flute of champagne. “I’m Raj.”
When Nayna shot Ísa a frantic look, Ísa gave her “wild devil women” messages with her eyes before deliberately melting back into the crowd. She didn’t go far, wanting to be there if Nayna needed her. It wasn’t as if she had anything else to do—unlike Nayna, she wasn’t interested in breaking the rules with a single man at the party.
None of them had the right blue eyes. Or the right sinful smile.
She was going backward as she moved away from Nayna and the scrumptious Raj, so it was hardly surprising that she bumped into someone. Something cold and wet splashed against her bare upper shoulder.
Shivering, she turned to apologize since it had been her fault. “I’m sorry, I wasn—”
Blue, blue eyes looked into her own.
* * *
SAILOR HAD ONLY TURNED UP to this party because he’d promised Raj the company. His friend wasn’t a big party person—like Sailor, Raj was more interested in putting his spare time into his business than in frittering it away with random strangers. However, the couple hosting this party were clients who’d turned into good friends, and they’d really wanted Raj to attend.
Sailor had come along so that Raj wouldn’t have to talk to too many idiots—his friend had less patience with said idiots than Sailor—but Raj had been swarmed by women the instant Sailor stepped away to grab a beer from the bar on the other side of the room. Sailor himself hadn’t escaped unscathed. Apparently, word had gotten around that Raj was in construction and Sailor a landscape gardener.
All these filthy-rich women apparently found that a turn-on.
Sailor barely stopped himself from growling at them like the feral beast they considered him. He wasn’t about to become some woman’s rough-sex fantasy, especially not when his own fantasies were going sadly unfulfilled. He’d have a few things to say to his cute redhead when he saw her again. She’d done some voodoo on him—he was comparing every woman he met to her. And all the other women were coming up short.
Their hair wasn’t bright enough.
Their curves weren’t dangerous enough.
Their lips not kissable.
It took a little fancy footwork, but he finally managed to disengage himself from the heiress who was trying to put the moves on him by complimenting him on his “delicious” biceps—why did that make him feel like a piece of meat when, if his redhead had said the same, he’d be strutting around like a peacock?
Probably because there had been no calculation in those gray-green eyes when she’d pounced on him. Just want. Open, naked, unsophisticated want. His cock threatened to harden under the memories as he began to make his way back through the crowd. He’d just turned slightly to check if a red-haired woman he’d spotted out of the corner of his eye was his redhead when someone ran smack-bang into the front of his body.
It was instinct to catch her around the waist so she wouldn’t fall.
His first thought was that she had a gorgeous ass, his second that her hair was exactly the same color as his redhead’s. And his third, that maybe, just maybe, he’d found a woman who might banish his redhead’s voodoo spell.
“I’m sorry,” she was saying as she turned, “I wasn—”
Sailor’s breath rushed out of him. He saw her eyes flare, read the tension in her body, and tightened his hold around her waist just in case she was thinking about running away again. Heart thundering at having captured his elusive prey, he leaned down to murmur in her ear, “I got beer on your shoulder. Let me clean that up.”
He didn’t give her a chance to respond before he leaned down to lick up the drops of beer that had hit her shoulder and collarbone, her breasts pushing into his chest and the soft puffs of her breath hitting his neck. He knew he shouldn’t be doing this, but his redhead wasn’t trying to pull away. Her breath had gone fast and shallow while her skin was soft and creamy under his mouth.
When he raised his head, he saw that her pupils were dilated, much as they’d been after their kiss. “My name,” he said, “is Sailor. And I brought my truck.”
Her throat moved as she swallowed… and one of her hands, it came to rest on his chest. After downing the champagne in her flute in one shot, she said, “I can’t leave my friend.” She looked back over her shoulder even as Sailor’s brain scrambled to unravel the meaning of her words.
Then he got it, and every cell in his body roared to readiness.
She was going to come with him.
Forcing his thoughts into some sort of order, his body wrenching at the reins, he followed her gaze. “The pretty Indian woman in the dress that looks like it’s made of bandages?” It was hot, but nothing compared to his redhead’s painted-on gift of a dress.
Or to her come-to-bed tumble of hair and soft, lush lips.
When she nodded, he said, “Your friend will be fine. Raj is probably the safest man in this room.”
Her eyes focused once more on Sailor. “Not you?”
“Oh, when it concerns you, spitfire,” Sailor murmured, “I’m about as safe as a volcano.” After putting her empty flute and his mostly full beer on the tray of a waiter heading back to the kitchen, he used his free hand to caress the luscious cream of her skin, stroking his way over her shoulder and down her arm. “Tell me your name.”
A sudden, determined glint in her eye. “I don’t want to have a name tonight.”
Fire sizzled in his veins. “Are you looking to be bad tonight?” He’d get her name out of her, but he was more than willing to play a sexy game with her in the meantime.
When she nodded, he crushed her tighter to his body so she couldn’t mistake just how much he wanted her. “Any particular kind of bad?” He’d take anything that involved him devouring her.
“I was considering skinny-dipping.”
The ravenous thing inside him baring its teeth, Sailor released her only to link the fingers of his left hand with her right. “I think the pool is a little public don’t you?” No way in hell was he sharing her centerfold-ready body with anyone else; she was his redhead, and Sailor decided he had a distinctly selfish streak. “This property has access to a private beach.”
Their hosts hadn’t announced that, no doubt because they didn’t want beer bottles and champagne flutes ending up on the pristine sand, but Raj knew because he’d worked on building this property. He’d given Sailor a short outdoor tour before they’d entered the party. “I dare you.”
She held his gaze, sparks in her expression. “I have to tell my friend. For all I know, you’re a serial killer in your spare time.”
Calmer now because she wasn’t going to run away—not that she’d get far before he caught her, Sailor released her wrist. “Do you want to take a photo to send her?” he asked, resisting the temptation to bite down on her lower lip as he stroked his hand up under the temptingly high hem of her dress. “Just in case I do away with you?”
“Hmm, good idea. It’s always the ones who don’t look like serial killers.” With that pert comment, she reached into her small and glittery black purse and took out a phone.
When Nayna shot Ísa a frantic look, Ísa gave her “wild devil women” messages with her eyes before deliberately melting back into the crowd. She didn’t go far, wanting to be there if Nayna needed her. It wasn’t as if she had anything else to do—unlike Nayna, she wasn’t interested in breaking the rules with a single man at the party.
None of them had the right blue eyes. Or the right sinful smile.
She was going backward as she moved away from Nayna and the scrumptious Raj, so it was hardly surprising that she bumped into someone. Something cold and wet splashed against her bare upper shoulder.
Shivering, she turned to apologize since it had been her fault. “I’m sorry, I wasn—”
Blue, blue eyes looked into her own.
* * *
SAILOR HAD ONLY TURNED UP to this party because he’d promised Raj the company. His friend wasn’t a big party person—like Sailor, Raj was more interested in putting his spare time into his business than in frittering it away with random strangers. However, the couple hosting this party were clients who’d turned into good friends, and they’d really wanted Raj to attend.
Sailor had come along so that Raj wouldn’t have to talk to too many idiots—his friend had less patience with said idiots than Sailor—but Raj had been swarmed by women the instant Sailor stepped away to grab a beer from the bar on the other side of the room. Sailor himself hadn’t escaped unscathed. Apparently, word had gotten around that Raj was in construction and Sailor a landscape gardener.
All these filthy-rich women apparently found that a turn-on.
Sailor barely stopped himself from growling at them like the feral beast they considered him. He wasn’t about to become some woman’s rough-sex fantasy, especially not when his own fantasies were going sadly unfulfilled. He’d have a few things to say to his cute redhead when he saw her again. She’d done some voodoo on him—he was comparing every woman he met to her. And all the other women were coming up short.
Their hair wasn’t bright enough.
Their curves weren’t dangerous enough.
Their lips not kissable.
It took a little fancy footwork, but he finally managed to disengage himself from the heiress who was trying to put the moves on him by complimenting him on his “delicious” biceps—why did that make him feel like a piece of meat when, if his redhead had said the same, he’d be strutting around like a peacock?
Probably because there had been no calculation in those gray-green eyes when she’d pounced on him. Just want. Open, naked, unsophisticated want. His cock threatened to harden under the memories as he began to make his way back through the crowd. He’d just turned slightly to check if a red-haired woman he’d spotted out of the corner of his eye was his redhead when someone ran smack-bang into the front of his body.
It was instinct to catch her around the waist so she wouldn’t fall.
His first thought was that she had a gorgeous ass, his second that her hair was exactly the same color as his redhead’s. And his third, that maybe, just maybe, he’d found a woman who might banish his redhead’s voodoo spell.
“I’m sorry,” she was saying as she turned, “I wasn—”
Sailor’s breath rushed out of him. He saw her eyes flare, read the tension in her body, and tightened his hold around her waist just in case she was thinking about running away again. Heart thundering at having captured his elusive prey, he leaned down to murmur in her ear, “I got beer on your shoulder. Let me clean that up.”
He didn’t give her a chance to respond before he leaned down to lick up the drops of beer that had hit her shoulder and collarbone, her breasts pushing into his chest and the soft puffs of her breath hitting his neck. He knew he shouldn’t be doing this, but his redhead wasn’t trying to pull away. Her breath had gone fast and shallow while her skin was soft and creamy under his mouth.
When he raised his head, he saw that her pupils were dilated, much as they’d been after their kiss. “My name,” he said, “is Sailor. And I brought my truck.”
Her throat moved as she swallowed… and one of her hands, it came to rest on his chest. After downing the champagne in her flute in one shot, she said, “I can’t leave my friend.” She looked back over her shoulder even as Sailor’s brain scrambled to unravel the meaning of her words.
Then he got it, and every cell in his body roared to readiness.
She was going to come with him.
Forcing his thoughts into some sort of order, his body wrenching at the reins, he followed her gaze. “The pretty Indian woman in the dress that looks like it’s made of bandages?” It was hot, but nothing compared to his redhead’s painted-on gift of a dress.
Or to her come-to-bed tumble of hair and soft, lush lips.
When she nodded, he said, “Your friend will be fine. Raj is probably the safest man in this room.”
Her eyes focused once more on Sailor. “Not you?”
“Oh, when it concerns you, spitfire,” Sailor murmured, “I’m about as safe as a volcano.” After putting her empty flute and his mostly full beer on the tray of a waiter heading back to the kitchen, he used his free hand to caress the luscious cream of her skin, stroking his way over her shoulder and down her arm. “Tell me your name.”
A sudden, determined glint in her eye. “I don’t want to have a name tonight.”
Fire sizzled in his veins. “Are you looking to be bad tonight?” He’d get her name out of her, but he was more than willing to play a sexy game with her in the meantime.
When she nodded, he crushed her tighter to his body so she couldn’t mistake just how much he wanted her. “Any particular kind of bad?” He’d take anything that involved him devouring her.
“I was considering skinny-dipping.”
The ravenous thing inside him baring its teeth, Sailor released her only to link the fingers of his left hand with her right. “I think the pool is a little public don’t you?” No way in hell was he sharing her centerfold-ready body with anyone else; she was his redhead, and Sailor decided he had a distinctly selfish streak. “This property has access to a private beach.”
Their hosts hadn’t announced that, no doubt because they didn’t want beer bottles and champagne flutes ending up on the pristine sand, but Raj knew because he’d worked on building this property. He’d given Sailor a short outdoor tour before they’d entered the party. “I dare you.”
She held his gaze, sparks in her expression. “I have to tell my friend. For all I know, you’re a serial killer in your spare time.”
Calmer now because she wasn’t going to run away—not that she’d get far before he caught her, Sailor released her wrist. “Do you want to take a photo to send her?” he asked, resisting the temptation to bite down on her lower lip as he stroked his hand up under the temptingly high hem of her dress. “Just in case I do away with you?”
“Hmm, good idea. It’s always the ones who don’t look like serial killers.” With that pert comment, she reached into her small and glittery black purse and took out a phone.
