Authors: Rachelle Vaughn
Dillon’s hand crept dangerously low on my back. There was just too much of him. I was drowning in his scent, yet I knew I had to cling to him like a life preserver to save me from myself.
Partway through the evening and after several exhilarating dances, I’d forgotten I was paying him for a good time. It was nice having someone by my side while I made necessary small talk with my father’s associates and the charity’s committee members.
Last year, I had danced an obligatory dance with my father,
then
sat at our table watching everyone else make fools of themselves before ducking out early to watch old Katharine Hepburn movies upstairs in my room.
Tonight, Dillon and I danced until I was out of breath and my feet ached. He knew a little bit of every dance style to make it fun.
The tango, ballroom, salsa.
Knowing how to dance must have come in handy in his line of work.
When the event started winding down, we said our goodbyes and Dillon walked me to the elevator.
“Well,
Dillon,
thanks so much for tonight,” I said, stabbing at the elevator call button.
He smirked at my lame attempt to end the evening. “Are you trying to get rid of me already?”
I blushed and looked down at my shoes. “No.”
“Let me at least make sure you get up to your room all right.”
“Are you sure?” It wasn’t like there was a lot that could happen to me from here to there.
“Yeah.
I have a few hours left.”
That’s right. He was still on the clock. I had just assumed he’d have his car brought up and then drive away into the Nevada desert. At least that would have saved us an awkward goodbye.
“Okay,” I said meekly. I wasn’t sure why he needed to come back to my room. I’d already paid him in advance, so what was there left to do exactly?
The door of my suite closed with a click and I leaned against it. It was good to be back in my sanctuary.
“You really pulled it off, Dillon.”
Actually, Dillon had charmed the pants off of everyone at the dinner party. I
immediately
blushed at the thought of Dillon with no pants on.
“You sound surprised,” he said, loosening his tie.
“Well, yeah.
A little.
I mean it wasn’t like anything I’ve ever done before, so I wasn
’
t sure.” I walked over to the window and looked down at the glowing city.
“It wasn’t difficult. I actually had fun,” Dillon said from behind me.
I’d had fun, too. Dancing with Dillon’s warm body was something I
’
d remember forever.
“Me too.”
“The food was pretty good.”
I turned around and looked at him. “At a thousand bucks a plate, I’d hope so.”
Dillon nearly choked on his own saliva. “Wow,” he finally said. “In that case it was excellent.”
I shrugged. “It’s for a good cause.”
“What cause is that? Finding Mr. D a suitable mistress?”
I laughed and followed Dillon to the sofa.
“Or finding Mr.
MacTavish
a toupee that actually fits.”
Dillon laughed and we continued to make fun of almost everyone at the dinner. Dillon Milano made me feel comfortable and as much as I liked it, it scared the hell out of me.
“Would you like a drink?” I offered, figuring it was the hospitable thing to do.
“Sure. Here, I’ll make it. You sit down and get comfortable. I’m sure you’d like to get out of those shoes.”
I
blushed,
embarrassed that he’d even noticed my shoes. It was so thoughtful of him. Then again Dillon had been polite and thoughtful all evening. Corny cliché aside, he was the perfect gentlemen.
I kicked off my shoes and took the drink he held out to me even though I had no intention of drinking it.
Dillon sat in the chair across from me and stretched out his long legs. I tried to swallow but my throat had gone mysteriously dry.
I sat down on the sofa and took a sip of the drink. It wouldn’t hurt to have something to take the edge off. And here I thought dinner was going to be the nerve-wracking part. There was a beautiful, pre-paid man in my room and it looked like he had no intention of leaving.
“So where’d you learn to dance like that?” I asked.
Dillon paused and thought about it like he wasn’t sure if he wanted to answer me truthfully or not. “I had a client who wanted to take dance lessons and needed a partner.”
Oh, that was why. He didn’t want to talk to me about his other clients. That was understandable.
“Well, you
’
re very good at it.”
I stifled a yawn and set my drink on the coffee table. Fatigue hit me like a stack of phone books. The dinner was the most excitement I’d had in quite some time and I didn’t know how much longer I could keep my eyes open. Even if it just was to look at Dillon’s gorgeous face.
Dillon stood up and put his drink down next to mine. “Let me help you into bed,
Livi
. You must be exhausted.”
I mumbled in agreement and shuffled into the bedroom. Between the excitement of the night, the heady dancing and the champagne, I didn’t care that Dillon was following me into my private bedroom.
When I reached the edge of my bed, I turned around and Dillon was standing a breath away from me. He was so handsome and I was so lonely. If only I could have had the guts to do at least one of the billion things I was thinking.
His eyes narrowed and if I didn’t know better, I’d have thought he was leaning in for a kiss.
My gut wrenched in that old familiar way and I shook my head. “I can’t. I…I just can’t.”
“It’s okay.” He straightened and squeezed my hand to tell me he understood. “We don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with.”
I sighed and leaned my cheek against his chest. He was so warm and solid. My body wanted his hands roving over it, his lips on mine, but my poor overworked analytical brain screamed
no
.
The past was not going to be easily ignored, no matter how much I found myself wanting to move on from it.
“Can you just hold me?” I asked. It wasn’t something I would have said in a gazillion years, but it just sort of slipped out. “I know that probably sounds cliché, but you’re so…warm. You’re arms…they’re nice.” I blushed from nose to ears. Because I’d only had one glass of wine and a few sips of brandy, there was no blaming the liquor for choosing my words for me. How corny could one person be?
Oh well, I was the one paying for this. I could be corny if I damn well wanted to.
Dillon smiled. “Sure. I’d love to hold you,
Livi
.
Any day of the week.”
“Let me go change,” I mumbled.
I went to the dresser, grabbed out my biggest, baggiest, comfiest tee shirt and went into the bathroom to change.
Feeling slightly ridiculous, but now much more comfortable, I tiptoed back to the bed and climbed inside. He snuggled in next to me and I sighed when those big, warm arms came around me.
There was no reason to feel foolish, I decided.
This was exactly what I wanted.
As I lay, waiting for sleep to come, I wondered how something so broken could ever be fixed.
Chapter Four
The next morning when I woke up, Dillon Milano was gone. It was like I had dreamed the last few days. The only thing that remained of him was his masculine scent on my pillow. I closed my eyes and breathed deep. Oh yeah, he
’
d been here all right.
I hadn’t imagined his bright smile or his big hand holding mine.
Or the sound of his laugh
,
or the feel of his chest against me while we danced.
There was no way I could have dreamed up those shadowy blue eyes looking at me like I was the only one in the room.
Here I’d had a real flesh and blood man in my room--in my bed!--and I hadn’t done a damn thing about it except curl into the fetal position and fall asleep.
Berating aside, I still had to admit I’d done a lot more than I ever thought I could, starting with calling him in the first place. I’d hugged him, danced in his arms and snuggled up to him in bed. Not too shabby for an agoraphobic nutcase.
I yawned and stretched and climbed out of the big empty bed. For a minute, I stood and looked at where he’d laid and pictured the two of us there together, our heads resting next to each other on the big puffy pillows. I smiled and patted myself on the back for being brave and taking a chance. It was an evening I would always cherish.
I went in to the bathroom and drew myself a bath in the giant whirlpool tub. I didn’t think my wobbly legs could hold me up for the duration of a shower. My knees were still a little weak thinking about how muscular and powerful Dillon was while being kind and tender at the same time.
As water gushed out of the faucet, an idea came to me.
A naughty idea.
Before I could analyze it, I was scooting my thighs down and under the spout. Since my fingers never seemed to do the trick--I could never get the touch or tempo quite right--it seemed worth a try.
I spread my legs and positioned myself under the flood of water. The pounding flow was just enough pressure to massage me in all the right places. It soothed everywhere I ached with longing. Before long, my clit throbbed and my hips bucked, but I needed more. More pressure. More heat.
More
everything
.
I needed a firm, warm hand. I needed Dillon‘s arms around me.
On
me.
The thought skittered into my head and I shook it off and tried to clear my mind of distraction. My body wasn’t the problem, it was my head.
Always calculating, never silent.
I focused on the whooshing sound of the water, letting it soothe me.
I reached down and spread my outer lips so the water would reach deeper. So it could flow inside of me, fill me with its heat. It sluiced over my slit, pounding and then caressing.
Bruising then laving.
I clenched my butt cheeks and jerked my drenched body up closer to the spout. Water ran down my belly and neck and into my ears so that all I could hear was the roar of my heartbeat as I sucked in air.
Everything tightened and I clenched my teeth as sweat broke out on my forehead. I was almost there. Just a little bit more. Just a little to the left, no
,
the right.
I couldn’t wait any longer for it to happen. I needed it. I commanded it. But my body didn’t respond to orders. It just hummed and throbbed in a nice steady buzz with no coup de grace in sight.
The sensation was so overwhelming I thought I might actually, finally, have an orgasm, but my brain took over before that could happen. Here I was in the middle of the desert wasting gallons of water trying to get myself off. Maybe I didn’t deserve to have one.
I should have had the patience to coax my body into completion, but the events in my past were too monumental to overcome. There was no use. No hope.