The Keeper (7 page)

He had to come back. She wanted to
see his face again. To know he was safe. At least that. They'd work out the
relationship in good time. Just bring him home safely. That's all she asked.

Chapter Nine

Three months later

"Hey, Share, you tired?"
Pete gathered her close and dipped his hand from her waist to her hip, stroking
over the curve of her bottom.

She usually loved the way he
touched her, but this time, she barely noticed the direction his hand had
taken. The elevator doors opened onto a salmon-colored, marble-floored foyer
and a mahogany half round table with an immense arrangement of flowers gracing
the top.

"Pete, what in the world did
you do? Are you sure this is our room?" Blown away by the splendor, she
absently fingered a petal, sniffing the fragrance appreciatively. The flowers
were real. The room, she glimpsed through the arched entryway was as stunningly
beautiful as the ones in the pages of an expensive home décor magazine.

"Suite."

"Uh, yeah, sweet. And
huge." She angled her head for a glimpse into the living room.

"Suite. It's not a room, it's
a suite." He sounded rather pleased with himself.

She'd seen him slip the key card
into a slot in the elevator, but it really hadn't registered in her brain. Hank
and Nickie's wedding preparations and the drive to Chicago from Parkersburg
happened in a flurry of excitement. Being here with Pete was wonderful and
scary at the same time. She'd fallen hard for him. Did he feel the same?

"It's ours. Do you like
it?"

"Like it? What's not to like,
except the fear they're going to come up and throw us out."

"You saw me use the key card.
It's no mistake," he replied good naturedly, tightening his arm around
her.

"It's amazing, that's what it
is," she sighed. He ushered her through the entry hall and into the living
room. A highly polished, cherry wood floor was the perfect foil for pristine
white-on-white couches and jewel-toned chairs resting on faded antique Oriental
rugs. It was so lovely. All she could do was shake her head in admiration.

"You all right, honey?"
His wide palm comfortably cupped her hip.

"Yeah, I'm okay."
Nestling against his sheltering heat, she ordered herself to get control and
not act like a country idiot seeing her first hotel suite. Even if she was, and
it was, she didn't have to advertise her hick-ness.

"Well, I want everything to be
perfect for you," he murmured, turning her to face him. His white smile
was teasing, and his golden-green eyes sparkled with mischief.

Smiling at him, she thought, for
the millionth time, how good looking he was. Classic features: strong jaw,
straight teeth, vertical slash of a nose, black hair perpetually unkempt
because he always ran his fingers through it. Who would have imagined, in her
job as a dental assistant that cleaning the teeth of her boyfriend would be a
turn on?

When he opened his mouth and she
slipped in the saliva ejector, and even when she ordered him to spit, she had
to keep her mind firmly on business. It was a testament to his innate
sensuousness. Or her deeply-seated weakness. She tried not to roll her eyes at
that notion.

"It
is
October, and it
is
Michigan Avenue. The wind was pretty fierce out there."

"No, I'm fine," she
repeated.
Move on, Share. Get a grip and start acting as if you know what
you're doing.
She missed the heat of him when he left her to open tall,
louvered double doors leading into a palatial bedroom. She'd thought the living
room was outstanding. It was obvious the bedroom was the money room. A
king-size bed with four delicately carved posts shrouded with filmy, white
draperies, dominated the room. That was all she had a chance to see before his
arms slid around her waist. He stepped into her field of vision and turned her
face toward him.

"Share, are you sure you don't
need something? Warming up? Me?" he murmured, his voice resonant with
promise. His forefinger smoothed down the bridge of her nose and brushed over
her lips to tap her chin twice.

Just that delicate, sweet caress
spun curls of heat through her body. He did this to her, made her feel safe and
special. And scared the hell out of her with his intensity and sincerity. Her
body warmed and instinctively melted further into his embrace, into a kiss, a
sensuous, consuming onslaught of lips, teeth, and tongue.

"Mmm." She loved when he
kissed her, loved the brushing and massaging of sensitive lips, loved just
closing her eyes and relaxing into the heat of his masculine body. It was like
coming home. She could kiss this man for hours. He was good at it, too. He
didn't rush things.

She reveled in his toying and
teasing. Even though he was always quickly aroused, his cock hard and
throbbing, she loved that he still cared enough to take his time to arouse her
to the very edge before tipping her over. There'd never been anyone like him in
her life, and she didn't think there would ever be again. So, shoving her fear
that
this too shall pass
down into the farthest depths of her heart, she
advised herself to enjoy what she had at this moment.

Tucking herself closely into the
hard, muscular plane of his body, flattening her breasts against the softness
of his suede blazer, she slid her arms around his waist and squeezed her
fingers inside the back waistband of his jeans, stretching, reaching for his
butt. She groaned at the flex of his hips, his rampant cock pressure-squeezed
against her belly. Their sexual energies meshed so wonderfully, their desire for
each other endless.

He'd rescued her emotionally when
Hank defected to Nickie, and physically when her father had shown up
unexpectedly. They'd been together for a few months now, but sometimes she felt
like such an inadequate mess she feared no one would ever truly care for her.
The abandonment by her father when she was a child left a huge hole in her
heart. Was Pete Rayne the man to fill that hole? Or would he come to his senses
soon and run screaming from the chaos that was her life.

Just enjoy the weekend.
When
she was with him, she forgot Hank's last name, forgot about every other man.

He, as usual, looked scrumptious.
In his thigh-hugging jeans and chocolate-colored blazer over a crisp pink—of
all colors—dress shirt, you'd never know he was a sheriff's deputy in a small,
hick county in Iowa.
Very
scrumptious, as a matter of fact.

He nudged her with his body, edging
her backward.

"Wait a second, Pete."
She giggled and placed a hand on the middle of his chest. "What time is
it?"

"It's about three, and, yes,
we have time for this," he whispered as he persistently prodded her toward
the bed.

"When do we have to be
there?" she asked in a breathy, uneven whisper, meaning the wedding
rehearsal.

"Seven." He nibbled along
her jaw, down her neck.

"And how long will it take to
get there?" It was so difficult to concentrate on getting the information.

"Nickie said ten minutes by
cab, so ten minutes plus five to get to the lobby and get a cab, makes fifteen
minutes. That means we leave at six forty-five. How long do you need to
dress?" His heated breath tickled directly over her ear.

"Oh, at least an hour."

"How about forty-five
minutes?" he teased, unbuttoning her blouse.

He hadn't even touched her bare
skin yet, and she was hot and aroused. "I don't know if that's enough."

"Thirty."

What'd he say? Thirty?
His
negotiating technique was exquisite. And shameless. "Forty," she
groaned. They haggled like this all the time. She was amazed how quickly she'd
learned to get ready, his mouth and his cock the perfect rewards for rushing
the makeup.

"I'll give you the forty-five
since I'm such a good guy, so we have three hours. Are you hungry?"

The switch in subject threw her for
a second. "Kind of."

"There should be a basket of
goodies out in the living room."

"I'm not
that
hungry.
Come here." She pushed him down onto his back and began getting him out of
his clothes, excited to have her way with him.

Chapter Ten

Pete awoke to an empty bed. Smiling
contentedly, he stretched his long body to lie on propped up pillows on the
four-poster. His girl, an expensive hotel suite, a long weekend, life didn't
get any better than that.

The sounds of the running shower
tempted him, but they'd never get to the rehearsal if he joined her there. He
cared too much about Hank to screw up any part of this wedding. Even though his
partner had played the field, he'd been emotionally isolated until Nickie came
along and turned him into a one-woman man. Pete couldn't be happier to see this
wedding. Now he needed to accept the fact he, himself, was becoming
domesticated. This weekend, he was going to confirm whether Sharon felt the
same.

The shower stopped, and a
towel-clad head peeked around the doorway. "Come on, slug," she
teased. "Time to get duded up." Then she whisked back into the
bathroom.

She's right, damn it.
He
levered himself out of bed and sauntered into the steamy room.

"Want some privacy before I
start my makeup?"

Did he ever. "Just a minute,
okay?" The bathroom itself was immense—green marble counters, a black
floor which must be heated because his toes were toasty, separate shower and
giant tub. He had plans for that tub. Later.

He showered and shaved at the
second sink while she finished her hair. He had to remind himself to be careful
with the razor, because his ogling was too distracting. Standing at the sink
next to her, doing mundane tasks like getting ready to go out, felt so
comfortable.
Ho boy, am I whipped.

"Fifteen minutes, pal."
She tapped the counter to get his attention, a smug smile stealing across her
features. In the mirror, he held her gaze for a long moment—promising things,
sensuous things, before she strolled out.
Hank. Hank and Nickie's wedding.
He had to keep reminding himself why they were here.

"Holy shit," he blurted
when he came out of the bathroom a moment later. The dress she was zipping up
lovingly hugged every one of her gorgeous curves.

"Is this all right?" she
asked, peering at herself in the mirror. "Is it too tight? Too low
cut?" She tugged at the line of material across her breasts.

He had to shake himself. As
beautiful and stacked as she was, he had to remember she was uncomfortable with
compliments, especially about her breasts. Unbelievable, but true. She was a
girl who looked good in anything she wore, but put her in a sexy dress and
stilettos, and she was breathtaking. He wasn't sure, though, why she didn't see
it.

"There's absolutely nothing
wrong with that dress. You look beautiful, honey. Classy. Mouthwatering, as a
matter of fact." He moved toward her as if being pulled by velvet ropes.
Mm,
now there's an idea. Tie her arms above her head and feast on her spectacular
naked body. Later.

The contrast in the mirror aroused
him even more. His larger body, standing right behind her, dwarfed her petite,
curvy one. "Jesus, you're making me hard just looking at you. I gotta back
off, or we'll never get out of this room." He placed his hands lightly
around her waist and winked at her reflection. "You're sure we have to
go?"

"Yes, baby." She rolled
her eyes, but smiled back. "We're getting down to the wire. You'd better
hurry."

"One thing, Share, are you all
right with this? I don't want you to be uncomfortable."
After all, he
got her on the rebound from Hank.
A pink flush grew from her breasts up her
neck. Her lips parted, and he saw a flash of embarrassment in her eyes. He
really wanted her to be all right and held his breath at his
need
for
her to be okay with this wedding.

She gazed back at him, her deep
blue eyes intensely calm and serious. "I'm just fine with the way things
turned out, Pete."

"Me too." Relieved, he
angled his head to brush his lips over her shoulder and nip at her neck.

"Hey, do not be leaving any
hickeys on me, sweetheart!" She giggled and scrambled away. "Not to
mention, I don't want any wet spots on the back of my dress."

"Baby, if there are any, it's
your fault." He gazed down the length of his body to his cock, already
jutting out, a small drop of pearly liquid oozing on the crest. Without raising
his head, he watched her watch him. Her breasts rose and fell roughly, and a
flush of arousal tinted her cheeks.

God, she'll outshine the bride
in that dress.
The dark, icy blue color set off her pale skin and dark
hair. He loved it when she wore her hair loose and full around her face and
shoulders. She was so hot. And sweet. Beautiful, with a combination of shy
sensuality. He held his breath, ground his back teeth, and tried to quick
freeze his libido.
Hank and Nickie. We're here for their wedding. Focus on
that.

Chapter Eleven

After the rehearsal and dinner, the
boys and girls separated. Nickie's sister was an actress in the Chicago theater
scene and knew all the hot drinking and dancing spots. Bobbie took them to a
specialized bar and introduced Sharon to chocolate martinis.

By the time she got back to the
penthouse, she felt extremely buzzed, her joints relaxed, her libido shrieking.
The place was so amazing and glamorous. Pete wasn't in yet, so she prowled
around the living room, glancing out the French doors at the skyline. Wouldn't
making love on the terrace in the summer be awesome? Wandering into the
bedroom, she grazed her fingertips over the luxurious bedding, noticing a maid
had neatened the bed and nestled a tray of chocolates and fruit in front of the
pillows. It was much more than the wrapped mints at lesser hotels.