Taste (2 page)

His mouth found my nipple again and he pulsed his tongue in rhythm with the thrust of his fingers inside me. Then he moved his thumb to flick over my clit, and with the scrape of his nail over the sensitive nub, I was pushed over the edge, screaming his name as my climax tore through me. I shook violently for a long while until I slowly came back down to earth. He flipped me over and I expected—
hoped
—he’d slam his cock into me and go for number two. Instead, he peppered my chest and neck with soft open-mouthed kisses, slowly bringing me down from the high of the past few minutes.

He shocked me when he kissed my forehead, then my nose, then placed a soft, closed-mouthed kiss on my lips and pushed himself up until he stood beside the bed. His shirt was ripped, his pants intact—although they were sporting a healthy bulge—and a conflicted look was stretched on his face.

“You deserve better than this.”

“What?” I asked dazedly.

“There’s nothing more I want than to take you right now. I loved hearing you call out my name, and you’re fucking beautiful when I make you come, Lys. But you need more than just
this
,” he said, gesturing to his crotch.

I propped myself up on my elbows to stare at him, my brows narrowed. “Barrett, whatever you were paid to do, you’re not going to get it from me. You can have my body and we can finally have the hot fuck we’ve both been wanting for the past twenty-four hours or else you can walk out that door and never see me again. So either come here and finish what you started or walk out that door. What’s it to be, Barrett?”

Never have I felt a thick wave of anger hit a room so quickly as I did then. His mouth contorted into a snarl. “You have no
fucking
idea what I was paid to do. You have no
fucking
idea who the hell I am either. The worst thing to come out of all of this, Lys, is that the moment I saw you, I knew that this was never going to be just another job.”

“Just tell me then!” I yelled as I sat up and grabbed at my robe to cover myself up.

“I can’t!” he roared back.

I stood up and moved toward him until we were nose to nose, and I hoarsely whispered, “Then don’t let the door hit you on the way out.”

Without looking back, I walked to the bathroom and slammed the door shut. I locked it behind me and slid my back down the wood until my knees were bent and my ass hit the floor. A dull, delicious ache between my legs reminded me of what Barrett just did to me, of how he’d made me feel and how crazy he’d driven me with just his mouth and fingers.

Then the tears hit, and they hit hard. The sound of the hotel room door shutting set me off as I realized that he had, in fact, left the room and left me, and proved that I was just a job after all.

And that hurt more than I ever thought it would.

The next day I left Las Vegas, my thoughts torn between the events of the day—and night—before. I was resolute in my decision to find out what Barrett had been paid to do and what Gavin had to gain from it.

Thanks to two nights of very little sleep—albeit for two different reasons, both caused by the same man—the moment I walked through my bedroom door, I dumped my bags on the floor and crawled into bed.

I’d called my mother from the airport departure lounge, apologizing that we didn’t get to spend more time together.

“Mom, are you sure about this?”

“About what dear?” she asked.

“Are you ready to get married again?”

She laughed, “I wouldn’t have said yes to Gavin’s proposal if I wasn’t ready, Alyssa.”

“But do you really know him?”

“I’ve been with him for over a year. At my age, you know when you’ve met the right man.” Knowing what I knew and fearing what I didn’t, I was worried that neither of us knew Gavin—the real Gavin—at all.

That last topic left a somewhat sour taste in my mouth. She sounded so happy. I didn’t want to ruin her newly engaged buzz by casting shade on her new fiancé. Until I knew what was going on and what the conversation I’d overheard meant, I had no reason to burst her bubble.

I had nothing to go on. I couldn’t tell her that I was suspicious of her husband-to-be. All I knew was that he’d paid Barrett to get something out of me—whatever that may have been—for reasons still unknown to me. Not for long though.

Having already decided that I needed to investigate both of them, I had given myself the task of hiring a private investigator once I had at least something to go on. I had hopes that Aiden’s background check on both Gavin and Barrett would give me a good starting point but after that, I wasn’t sure what I was even looking for.

The only connection I could deduce was that Gavin was the owner of the Sovereign Hotel, and Barrett seemed to have unlimited access through his ‘contacts’ to make things go his way—like rooftop dream dates. That told me the
how
, but not the
what,
or more importantly—the
why
.

Finding a needle in a haystack would’ve been an easier job than the one I had ahead of me, but if it meant protecting my mother and myself, then I planned on leaving no stone unturned.

The day after I got back, I buried myself in my work while I waited to hear back from Aiden. I’d hoped that by keeping busy, I wouldn’t have any time to think about Barrett. It was semi successful but that was better than the alternative, which would’ve been driving myself crazy with conspiracy theories.

Working long hours and late nights was my solution. You could say it was one of the advantages of being the boss; I could work for as long as I wanted, whenever I wanted.

Even five years after being unexpectedly thrust into the top job, it still kicked my ass on a daily basis. After finishing high school, I had gone to Berkeley studying English and Media Studies, moving straight on to my MBA after that. It was in my blood; my father shared his passion with me as a child, and that love of the press and writing carried through to my adult life. Taking over the family business was a foregone conclusion; unfortunately it just happened far sooner than any of us ever thought it would.

Jacobs Publishing was started by a Jacobs, and as my father stated in his will, needed to be run by a Jacobs. It was always going to be me. It has to be me. The company was my father’s pride and joy—his biggest achievement in life, other than marrying my mom and creating me.

He’d started his company with one of his friends straight out of college. His friend gave up on the business, telling my father it was never going to work. Dad being stubborn and determined dedicated every waking moment to making the company a success and ensured it happened. It went from a small eight-page double spread newspaper they would hand deliver to two thousand letterboxes every month, to a million-dollar publishing company. We now had a collection of community newspapers and a monthly magazine that had a circulation in the hundreds of thousands. It was on the back of this success that I’d decided to branch out into new titles and interest areas.

Five years ago, fresh out of college and expecting to work my way up to the top, I’d received the phone call I would not have wished on anyone. My father had gone out for his morning run and never returned. A few hours later, the police were on my mother’s doorstep telling her that her soul mate was gone.

Until she met Gavin, my mom had been living under a shadow of grief.

And after that weekend in Vegas, I now suspected her happiness was under threat because of an overheard conversation and the connection of two men.

After racking my brain on it all week, by Friday night I’d decided it was
that
connection that I needed to focus on. I stepped out of the elevator on my floor with a plan to call Aiden when I got to my apartment, but stopped mid step when I saw the man himself standing at my front door.

“Aly,” he greeted, his smile just as big and as beautiful as I remembered. He was wearing a pair of well-fitting jeans that hugged his thighs, an unzipped hooded jacket and a 49ers T-shirt—his standard off-duty attire.

“Hi. This is a nice surprise. You said you weren’t coming back up for a month.”

“I found time to make a special visit,” he replied. He looked tired but even so, looked as handsome as ever.

“Should I be worried that you’re delivering the background checks in person?” I asked as I got closer.

He ignored my inferred question. “I wanted to check that you were okay,” he said, and my heart melted a little. Aiden had always been a sweetheart, albeit one with a sexy masculine edge that he often used to his advantage.

“I am a big girl, Aiden.”

“Oh believe me,” he said in a low husky voice, his gaze scanning my pencil skirt and tailored white blouse before returning his eyes to meet mine again. “I’m well aware of that.”

It took a lot of effort to not buckle at the knees, his heated expression a direct hit to my newfound resolution to stay away from men.

As soon as I was within reach, he reached out and linked his hands around my waist. I dropped my purse to the carpet and wrapped my arms around his neck. The warmth and comfort of his arms instantly relaxed me, my body leaning into his.

It was as if Aiden was exactly what I’d been needing, even when I had no idea I needed anyone.

He was more than that, though. He had always been more than a man I would spend time with, a man I slept with. It was deeper than that. I knew that the friendship between us would last even after the physical side of our relationship eventually stopped.

“Forgot how good you smell,” he replied, pulling his head back.

“And I forgot how good you are for me in
all
ways.”

“You’re good for a man’s ego, Aly,” he said with a grin and a squeeze of his arms. “Now, are you gonna make me stand out here all night, or are you going to invite me in?”

“Detective Lawrence,” I said in feigned shock, holding my hand over my heart. “Shouldn’t you be warning me against inviting strangers into my apartment?”

He pulled my body hard against his, dropping his lips first to my mouth then dragging them along my jaw before he stopped just below my ear. “I’ve been inside you more times than I can count, Aly, and I still can’t get enough of you. Doesn’t that tell you something?”

Every word he said, every stroke of his fingers on my hips as he said them, sent jolts of electricity through me. My breathing sped up and my heart raced. He
always
had that effect on me and in that moment—and the head space I was in—it was exactly what I needed.

I turned my head and ran my tongue around the curve of his ear before sucking his lobe between my lips and letting it go. “Wanna come inside, Detective Lawrence?” I rasped.

He stepped back and bent down to pick up his duffle bag and my discarded purse. “Thought you’d never ask.”

We stood there staring at each other for a moment or two. “So . . . are you going to do that then?”

“What?” I shook my head to snap me out of the Aiden-appreciation haze I’d gotten lost in.

He smiled knowingly at me. “Are you going to open the door, Aly?”

“Oh, yes. Right,” I said. Then my eyes dropped to his hands and back to his face. “I . . . uh . . . need my keys from my purse.” I nodded down to the bag he was holding and bit my lip to hold back a giggle.

“I think we both need a drink, don’t you?” he said after handing me my keys.

I opened my door and turned around to face him, grabbing his hand and walking backwards into my apartment. “I think I need more than one.”

“With what I have to tell you, I think I agree.”

“So, now you can be honest and tell me how you’ve really been?” Aiden said, leaning back into my sofa, his body angled toward me.

He’d taken control as soon as we’d closed the front door, ordering me to sit down and navigating his way around my kitchen before returning to my side with two wine glasses and a bottle of Cabernet from my wine rack. He’d then poured two rather full glasses and handed one to me.