Tycoon Takedown (7 page)

He wasn’t a man who stumbled over his words, but with her he found himself saying the most idiotic things.
Who the hell apologizes for sex? No wonder she hung up on me. What did I think she was going to do? Absolve me?

Especially when they both knew he wasn’t sorry.

Coming to a decision, Charles went to his closet and, merely out of habit, donned a suit. He gathered his phone and wallet, then called down to have his car brought around.

On the drive over to the hotel, he called his assistant. After giving her the moment she needed to wake up, he told her to clear his schedule for the next day.

“Is everything okay?” she asked, her voice tight with concern.

“Not yet,” he answered vaguely, “but I intend to remedy that.” He hung up and called Mason’s cell number.

“Hey,” Mason answered easily. “What do you need?”

“Some advice,” Charles growled and shifted the gears of his car forcefully.

“You have some nerve calling me at this time of night to discuss supporting your bill.” Mason covered the phone partially and said to whoever was with him, “I have to take this call, darlin’. It’s important. Call me next time you’re in town, though.”

Charles stopped for a red light, grunted with disgust, and raised a hand to press the disconnect button on his car phone. “You’re busy.”

“No, hang on.”

Charles rolled his eyes through the sound of Mason saying good-bye again to a woman. A moment later, Mason let out a relieved sigh. “Perfect timing. I did not think I could get her to leave tonight. This is why I don’t usually bring them home.” It sounded like he flopped down on his couch. “Now, let’s start over. What do you need?”

“I slept with Melanie, but I screwed it up.”

Mason said with some amusement, “Most of the process should come naturally. If you’re looking for pointers, though, I do have a few techniques I’m proud of.”

With a groan, Charles said, “Why do I call you?”

In a much more serious tone, Mason said, “Sorry. I’m just not used to you like this.”

“Like what?” Charles asked harshly.

“Unsure of yourself.”

“Every time I talk to her I say something worse.”

“Come on, it can’t be all that bad.”

“I apologized to her for sleeping with her.”

“No fucking way.”

“Twice.”

Mason laughed. “You do need my help.”

“She told me to stop calling her.”

“I can’t imagine why.”

“I’m driving over to her hotel now.”

“Because you’ve put the past behind you and it doesn’t bother you anymore that she has a child?” When Charles didn’t answer, Mason continued. “Or because you want to fuck her again?”

This was why h
e’d
called Mason. He might be able to lie to himself, but he couldn’t lie to someone who knew him so well. “I don’t know,” Charles said angrily, then repeated more quietly, “I don’t know.”

“I’m going to throw this out there and you do with it as you want. Most women don’t appreciate a two a.m. apology.”

“I have to see her. It’s all I can think about. You’ve known me a long time, Mason. What the hell am I doing?”

Mason didn’t answer at first, then he said, “I felt the same way about my first Ferrari. I had to have it. That first ride was sweet. I mean
amazing
. But after a while, any car is just that—another car. Date her. Get her out of your system. She’s exciting because you put her on the forbidden list, but once you spend more time with her, I guarantee you the fascination will fade.”

“I don’t want to hurt her.”

“So don’t lie to her. Lay it out for her and let her decide what she wants to do. You may be surprised by her answer.”

Charles nodded. “You’re right. I’m making this into a bigger deal than it is.”

“Exactly.”

“I’ll just tell her how it has to be.”

“And then it’s on her to stay or go.”

Chapter Seven

M
elanie had given up trying to sleep and was absently flipping between channels on the television as she ran through her last conversation with Charles for the hundredth time.

Why keep calling to apologize? Is he afraid I’ll run back to Sarah with a sob story? That’s not my style. I knew what I was doing when I went to his apartment with him.

He wanted me.

I wanted him.

There was nothing wrong with what happened.

The problem was in my head. I wanted him to tell me it meant something to hi
m . . .
that
I
meant something to him. Unfortunately, that doesn’t happen when you sleep with men you barely know.

A loud knock on the door startled her out of her thoughts, and her hand stilled on the remote. Her head snapped to the clock to check the time. Half past two in the morning.

Her hotel was in a decent area, or so the travel sites had claimed, but it was cheaper than many sh
e’d
priced and sometimes that meant a wilder crowd.

Melanie looked around the room for something she could use as a weapon if it came to that. She picked up one of her boots and held it next to her on the bed. If swung just right, the heel of it could knock someone back long enough to buy her some time.

There was another knock, this time louder. “Melanie. It’s Charles. Open the door.”

An entirely different kind of fear filled Melanie. She clutched the boot to her, went up on her knees so she could see herself in the mirror, and groaned. There was nothing sexy about the disheveled woman in the knee-length T-shirt who stared back at her.

She sat back on her heels and shook her head.

No way in hell am I answering the door like this. Wait him out. He’ll give up and go away.

“Melanie,” he said her name as if he were issuing an order.

So much for plan A. “Go away. I don’t want to see you.”

“No.”

Melanie stepped off the bed, still clutching the boot to her stomach, and approached the door. “I won’t tell anyone what happened between us, Charles. You don’t have to worry about that.”

“Open the door.”

Melanie peered through the peephole in the door. He was dressed in a business suit. Nothing in his hands.
What did I expect? Flowers? When am I going to learn?
She looked down at her unpainted toenails and shook her head.

Might as well get this over with.

Boot still in hand, she opened the door impatiently, placed a hand on her hip, and glared at him. “What do you want?”

He stepped forward, cupped her face between both of his hands, and pulled her into a kiss. She had been hurt by this man mere hours ago. She should throw him out. Tell him to go to hell. Anything but give in to the kiss. But the second his lips were on hers, common sense and caution shook hands and left the room. Passion swept through Melanie and she came alive beneath his touch. He kissed her with the passion of a man returning to his woman. No excuses. No hesitation. And she couldn’t help herself. She gave herself over to it. In that kiss she was his and they both knew it.

At the sound of her boot hitting the floor, he broke off the kiss and lowered his hands. “I want you, Melanie—like I’ve never wanted anyone in my life.” He stepped past her into the room and closed the door behind him. He picked up the boot sh
e’d
dropped and tossed it across the room. When he looked up at her, she saw desire churning in his eyes.

It would have been ridiculous to claim she didn’t feel the same. Whatever was between them was mutual.

But that didn’t mean giving in to him again was a good idea.

“Please. Just go.”

He pulled her into the solid comfort of his embrace and buried his face in her hair. “I can’t,” he said simply.

She pushed against his chest angrily. “Why?”

His eyes burned. “Because I don’t want to be anywhere else.”

This time when he kissed her, it was a gentle request and one she didn’t try to deny. She met his lips hungrily.
I don’t know how to fix yesterday and I don’t know what tomorrow holds—but I need this.

“I don’t, either,” she said baldly.

With that, he swung her up into his arms and carried her to the bed. He lowered her to her feet just before it. With one sure move, he whisked her long T-shirt up over her head.

Melanie gasped and sputtered at his almost overwhelming forwardness, but all protest died on her lips when she saw the expression in his eyes. Never before had she felt adored by a man, but his gentle touch followed his gaze in an act of worship. He ran a hand down her exposed neck, the side of one breast, and settled on her still panty-clad hip. She shuddered in response.

“How long are you in New York?” he asked softly.

“I planned to leave Monday.” Her voice sounded husky to her own ears.

He buried a hand deep in the curls of her hair at the nape of her neck. “That gives us four nights.” He arched her, exposing more of her to his hot lips. Wherever his mouth went, fire followed.

She fought for sanity. Charles was a guilty pleasure, a luxury she shouldn’t allow herself. Hadn’t she learned the price of being impulsive? Of giving in to desire?

Stop. This doesn’t have to be as dramatic as I’ve made it. I need to stop overthinking it and let myself have some joy for a change.

Don’t romanticize it and you won’t get hurt.

She dug her fingers into the strong muscles of his back. “I may not stay that long.”

He picked her up and tossed her onto the bed. She righted herself into a seated position quickly as he shrugged off his suit jacket and tossed it onto the chair beside the bed. He flashed a wicked smile at her—one filled with dark promise. “Oh, you will, and I’ll enjoy every moment I spend persuading you to.”

Melanie swallowed hard as he slowly unbuttoned his dress shirt and threw it on top of his jacket, then reached for his belt, never taking his gaze from hers. “Tell me to go and I will. Or give me four nights.”

“All or nothing? You set the terms and I’m supposed to agree to them?”

“Yes.”

Bold. Unyielding. And sexier because of it. “Four nights. Then what?”

His hand stilled on his belt. “I can’t offer you more than that.”

There was a vulnerable and tormented undertone to his declaration that took Melanie by surprise. He wasn’t married. As far as Sarah had said, he wasn’t even dating anyone seriously. What was it that prevented him from being able to consider anything beyond their short time together?

Was the pain in his eyes linked to the loss of his little brother? Sarah had spoken in length about how that tragedy had affected her life, but Melanie hadn’t looked at Charles in terms of how it may have affected his.

Underneath his expensive clothing and arrogant persona, could he be as lonely as she was?

She took in the powerful muscles of his chest, his broad shoulders, the lean waist and flat stomach. Her gaze dipped lower, long enough for her to blush as she remembered the satisfying size of him thrusting into her.

He’s not promising me forever. Hell, he’s not even promising next week, but what if that’s okay? What if we can find something in our short time together that we couldn’t have found on our own?

I’ve spent years locking everything away—this may be exactly what I need to put the past behind me.

“Melanie,” he said, his voice thick with desire.

She lifted her hips and slid her panties down her legs, crushing them into a ball in one hand before she threw them at him. He caught them midair. She said, “I swear on all that is holy that if you apologize for this tomorro
w . . .
”

He was naked and beside her before she could finish her threat. Between kisses, he promised, “I don’t intend to do much talking tonight or tomorrow.” His hand slid down her stomach and cupped her sex possessively while he kissed his way across her collarbone and down to one breast.

Thank God.

Melanie arched her back with pleasure when his teeth closed on one of her nipples and tugged gently. His hand rubbed her mound, then moved down to stroke the outside of her thigh. His touch explored and warmed every inch of her. His mouth teased and worshipped. He laved her breasts with his hot tongue until she was writhing beneath him.

He sat back on his heels and pulled her up into his arms, kissing the last of her reservations—as if there were any left—away. He moved onto his knees and took her hair in one of his hands, gently guiding her mouth toward his hard cock.

Melanie struggled to accept the size of him. He waited, then pushed the limits of what she would accept and groaned when she started to suck him deeper still. He closed his eyes and moaned again when she cupped his balls and rubbed the sensitive area behind them. The power of being in control of such a man was such a turn-on, and Melanie whimpered and moved closer to him.

Sucking. Licking. Loving the feel of him inside her mouth, jerking uncontrollably. His breathing became ragged, and he stopped her by holding her head on both sides. “I’m going to come,” he warned, giving her time to withdraw if she chose.

Melanie didn’t stop laving her tongue around him. She felt him tense, heard him make an animallike grunt as he climaxed, then welcomed his release and swallowed, licking at him with the same feverish hunger h
e’d
tasted her with earlier.

He rolled onto his side and pulled her down with him, and there was a giddiness to their embrace. She kissed his chest spontaneously.

He rolled on top of her, settling himself between her legs and holding both of her hands above her head in one of his. His cock was already coming back to life and nudging against her wet lower lips.

“You make me feel like a teenager again,” he said and kissed her deeply.

Melanie laughed. “Teenage sex was
never
this good.”

He grinned down at her, so damn handsome. She felt her chest tighten.
This
Charles was even more dangerous than guarded and demanding Charles. He looked younger, more playful, more
open
. Not checking the impulse, she reached up and brushed her hand through his hair. Frowning when he pulled away, he reached into the pocket of his slacks and retrieved a strip of several condoms.

“How many of those are you packing?” Melanie asked with a laugh. “Are you sure you brought enough?”

“Only one way to find out,” he said while expertly sheathing himself and bending to kiss her neck.

Sweet Jesus, I’m in.

He took one of her legs and put it over his shoulder, then rammed his cock in her readied pussy. He withdrew, then thrust powerfully inside again. Melanie cried out in pleasure as he drove into her again and again with increasing speed. He filled her, positioned her so his intimate caress found her G-spot, and took his time bringing her to the most exquisite orgasm sh
e’d
ever experienced. It came in waves, one heated tingle after the next, until she was sobbing from the intensity of it, grabbing at him to pull him deeper. He took her to the edge of what she could handle, paused long enough for both of them to suffer, then took her to the edge again.

When he finally increased his rhythm and came within her, she joined him in a vocal and convulsive release. This time, he didn’t immediately withdraw from her. He lowered her leg, released her hands, but stayed on top of her, intimately connected.

After a few minutes, his breathing returned to normal. He got up and disposed of the condom, then returned to the bed.

Melanie’s heart beat painfully in her chest as he did everything sh
e’d
hoped for the last time the
y’d
been together. He slid in beside her, flipped off the light, and pulled her into his naked embrace.

For a long time, breathing was the only sound in the room. Eventually he said, “I took the morning off, but I have a charity dinner I committed to before I knew yo
u’d
be here. Attend it with me.”

“Like a date?”

He hugged her to his side. “Whatever you want to call it.”

Melanie stiffened against him. “
I’d
rather not. I didn’t bring anything suitable to wear to something like that.” She wasn’t sure she wanted to attend a public function with him.

In the dim light of the room, he looked down at her, his expression unreadable. “It’s a formal event, but I don’t care what you wear.”

He wouldn’t. His arrogance was part of what she found attractive about him. He didn’t give a damn what others thought of him. Still, she couldn’t help but test his limits. “Really? You’re okay if I go in jeans and my boots?”

He took her chin in his hand and turned her face so sh
e’d
have to meet his eyes. She couldn’t read them in the shadows. “Why are you angry?”

She tried to pull back from him, but he held her to his side. She didn’t want to admit it, but the idea of attending something with him intimidated her. She told herself she didn’t care what others thought of her, but that wasn’t true. And this was his world. She didn’t need to be reminded that she didn’t belong in it. “I’m not one of your fancy New York girlfriends. I don’t wear makeup. My nails are chipped from hard work. What will your friends think of me?”

“These people aren’t my friends. I can’t promise you that no one will wonder why you chose jeans over a gown, but I can guarantee that none will have the nerve to say anything.”

“Because they’re too polite?”

A hard expression darkened his face. “Because you’re mine.”

His words ricocheted through her in the most wonderful way. Her pride whispered that she should throw his words back at him.

But the fact was, she didn’t want to.

Yours?
Since when does belonging to someone have an expiration date shorter than most lunch meats?

I shouldn’t let him talk to me that way.

Yep, I should stomp on out of here.