Red-Hot Lover Page 2

  Two men guarded the private elevator. She nodded to the older one. “Hello, Thomas.”

  He frowned for a moment, confusion written all over his swarthy face. “Zee, is that you?”

  She smiled. Zee was the name Saul had used and it had stuck. “Who else?”

  He shook his head, his stare openly roaming up and down her body. “You haven’t changed one bit.”

  Yeah, immortality will do that.

  “Thanks Thomas.” She dipped her head toward the elevator. “If you don’t mind.”

  “Let me call the boss first.”

  She shook her head. “No. I want to surprise him.”

  Thomas quirked a brow, his nut-brown eyes almost disappearing with his grin. “Oh, he’ll be surprised all right. And you too, no doubt.”

  Don’t count on it.

  Thomas pressed the elevator button. As she stepped inside, she turned to him and said, “I never expected him to be a saint while I’ve been away. But I’m here now. There isn’t any need for his other women.”

  Thomas saluted good luck as the glass doors swished shut and the elevator shot upward, stopping at the floor beneath the penthouse suite. It was here Saul conducted much of his business, legitimate and unlawful. What few people knew was that much of the profits here went to many different charities.

  Her lips quirked. She’d often teased him privately about his secret Robin Hood status—taking from the rich to give to the poor. And he’d loved that she wasn’t intimidated by him, that she said what she thought.

  But suddenly she was intimidated. She wouldn’t blame him if he despised her now.

  A shiver slid up and down her spine. But she shook off further doubts as she stepped out of the glass elevator and onto the polished marble of a huge sitting room, where black leather recliners and a large entertainment unit took center stage.

  She could hear the murmur of voices, the roar of excitement alongside low grumbles of disappointment. Saul and his men were in his private room, high-stakes gambling in progress.

  She pushed open the wood-paneled door, viewing the scene before her. Cigar smoke billowed into the air, a haze of bluish purple surrounding the dozen or more men sitting around a large round card table, where hundred-dollar bills were piled high.

  Saul had his back to her. A brunette languidly massaged his shoulders and a blonde leaned in close from a chair nearby.

  Two women?

  So this was the surprise Thomas had mentioned. Jealousy stabbed at her heart like an ice pick, then gave way to reluctant admiration. Saul always had been sexually dynamic, she’d not expect that to have changed just because she’d left.

  One by one the men looked up at her, openly gawking. Saul’s shoulders stiffened, despite the massage. It seemed he knew exactly who stood behind him even before he slowly turned to face her.

  Her heart stilled as his intense, dark stare isolated her, drank her in. “Zee,” he said huskily, almost uncertainly.

  Love swelled from somewhere deep inside. “Saul,” she whispered.

  He stared at her for what seemed like an eternity. “You came back.”

  She took a half-step forward. Heat flooded through her body like a raging fever, flushing her skin with its warmth. Oh, god. Her feelings for him hadn’t changed. Not one bit. She nodded. “Yes.” She only wished she could have come sooner.

  Her answer seemed to rouse him, to send him into action. “Everyone out,” he said hoarsely. “Now!”

  All the men except Lewie, his second-in-command, scattered, leaving behind their winnings. The women stayed put. The blonde threw Zahlee a poisonous glare but she was all honeyed sweetness when she turned back to Saul. “What about us, sweet cakes?”

  He brushed her off and then shrugged free from the brunette’s clasp on his shoulders. “Our business is done.” He snapped his fingers to the much-older Lewie. “The girls are yours now. If they’re willing,” he warned.

  Zahlee all but shuddered at the idea. Odds were, the girls would stay. They weren’t about to give up their lavish lifestyle anytime soon. She only hoped the blonde and her brunette friend enjoyed rough sex. In the time, many years ago, when she’d been with Saul, she’d seen plenty of women bruised and sore from Lewie’s sexual peccadilloes.

  Lewie nodded, not bothering to hide the wicked gleam in his eyes as he ushered the women out.

  Zahlee stepped away from the old thug. She was aware that age probably had not mellowed Lewie’s sexual penchant for violence, and was even more aware that displaying anxiety would only invite his interest.

  Saul stood then, tall and striking. He wasn’t classically handsome but he possessed a powerful aura that drew the eye. Even now, so many years later, his whole persona screamed danger—perhaps more so. But it didn’t repel. He was utterly charismatic.

  He strode toward her. His brilliant gray eyes studied her, ate her up, as he clasped her hands and drew her farther into the room. “Tell me this time you’re staying,” he croaked.

  Her breath caught. All these years later and he still really did love her, despite what she’d done. She’d hurt him so much, possibly even more than she’d hurt herself when she’d left him. Left her son. “I am.”

  Some of the tautness left his face as he nodded once. But determination as quickly set his face into tough, uncompromising lines. “Promise you won’t leave again.”

  “I…yes. I promise.”

  His eyelids swept low, concealing his thoughts. His doubts? Then he leaned forward with a throaty growl, claiming her mouth with his.

  Oh, Saul. She settled into the hard planes of his body, her mouth opening under his like a flower in full bloom. It’d been so long, too long.

  Had he lain awake at night, every night, thinking about her? Had he touched himself, wishing it was she who touched him, wishing it was she who brought him to climax? Had he gone to sleep with her name on his mind, her face in his dreams?

  Somehow she knew he had, in just the same way she had for him.

  She couldn’t withhold a moan as his tongue found and tangled with hers. He tasted of Cuban cigar smoke, whiskey and spices. She sighed, savoring his vitality, his maleness, even as the stubble on his jaw scraped over her delicate skin in a familiar caress.

  No one else had ever made her feel like that. No one else had ever really made her feel. Period. She’d never connected with anyone emotionally, mentally, as she did with her human lover.

  Saul’s large hands cupped her ass, his fingers brushing up and down the slippery texture of her dress. He pulled back, his dark eyes alight with desire. “I never imagined lime green could look so damn good.”

  “You like?” she asked a little breathlessly.

  “Oh, I like.”

  “Prove it,” she whispered, holding his gaze and letting him know, really know what she wanted. And to hell with the consequences.

  His breath hissed out. “Is that what you really want?”

  “Yes.” Oh, yes.

  His hands tightened. “You do realize there’s no going back now? No leaving me ever again?”

  At her jerky nod he did a half-turn then propelled her backward. He lifted her up onto the card table, his confined cock grinding against her damp panties.

  She couldn’t stop an urgent gasp as every nerve ending in her pussy, her clit, lit up in pleasure. She wished almost desperately that she hadn’t worn underwear as she leaned back and twined her legs around his hips, the hem of her dress slipping to her hips.

  His stare burned into her, hot and possessive. “Zee, I want you so much,” he growled. “Damn it, I want to fuck you so good you’ll never want another man but me.”

  “Then do it,” she breathed.

  Please!

  His laugh was strained. “You never really were one for foreplay.”

  Bunching her panties in a white-knuckled grip, he wrenched the lacy material apart. With unsteady hands he unbuttoned his pants and jerked the zipper down, thrusting his boxer briefs down, along with his pants. Clasping the bun
ched dress at her hips he tugged her closer to the edge of the table and spread her wide.

  Her throat dried at the sight of his engorged shaft, the head of his cock already glistening with pre-cum. She whimpered when he massaged her exposed clit with his hard, wet knob. “Fuck me,” she said, her voice strangled. She wanted—needed—every inch of his big, thick cock inside her cunt.

  She wanted to be connected to him, owned by him.

  Triumph glinted in his stare when he rasped, “You know I love it when you talk dirty.”

  Then he slid inside her in one long stroke, her muscles sheathing him tightly, holding him in. She closed her eyes at the heady friction, the utter perfection of their joining.

  How did I live without him for so long? I shouldn’t have left.

  Their breaths were heavy as they waited long seconds for her inner muscles to adjust. Saul was big, almost too big. But she’d been built for gargoyle lovers and even in human form her body was made for him.

  With a groan Saul pulled out almost all the way. He plunged back inside her slippery pussy, the noisy, wet slapping sound as he began rocking in and out, a turn-on all its own.

  She collapsed back onto the table, hundred-dollar notes wafting all around them and fluttering to the floor like expensive confetti. But she hardly noticed.

  Her mind was attuned to the man who’d held a piece of her heart from the moment they’d met. She was linked to him in more than just the physical. Even after all these years their union was a meshing of two people who were meant to be, who were bound to one another.

  He stilled just long enough to arrange her legs up over his torso, her feet resting behind his shoulders. His hot stare feasted on her exposed cunt, filled to capacity with his cock. He closed his eyes for a moment. A muscle flexed in his jaw. Then he rocked into her again, angling his cock so that it hit her G-spot dead center.

  Holy shit!

  She jackknifed on the table with a shrill gasp as an orgasm hit almost brutally. “Saul!” And this time she knew exactly whose name she called out as toe-curling shudders of bliss overtook her body.

  Saul’s face twisted with rapture as his seed exploded inside her in pulsing waves. Long seconds later, he released a slow, steadying breath, then smiled and said huskily, ”Welcome back.”

  Her breath hitched as he slowly, deliberately withdrew his cock from her heat. She pushed up to her elbows, feeling sexy, slumberous and jubilant all at once. “Thank you.” She cleared her throat. “That was most…unexpected.”

  Oh, she had hoped to seduce him, just not quite this soon.

  He cupped her chin, pressing a warm, lingering kiss to her lips. “I’m sorry, of all the scenarios…” He shook his head. “I imagined so many times the perfect reunion when—if—I found you. But when Pascal disappeared too, I almost gave up hope.”

  Her heart plummeted, drowsy contentment instantly dissolving. She’d regained the love of her life but in doing so had lost the son she’d never really known. Her chest ached. Her throat felt thick. Tears formed, one sliding down her cheek before she could rein in her emotions.

  Her only consolation was the fact Pascal would live eternally. She’d be able to make up at least some of the time she’d lost with him…after she lost Saul to his mortality.

  Pain lanced through her heart at the thought. More tears threatened. Somehow she choked them back.

  “Sweetheart, are you okay?” Saul murmured huskily, concern softening his stare. He blotted her tear with his thumb. “Is Pascal okay? Did he find you?”

  She nodded, forcing a smile. “Yes, he found me.” She swiped her face. “And he’s fine. Though I…I never got to see him before I left.”

  “You didn’t?” His eyes immediately hardened, glittering dangerously. But then he shook his head, dousing the fire. “I’m sorry. Enough of my questions. Pascal is alive and well and you’re here with me. That’s all I care about for now.”

  He tugged up his pants and boxer briefs before clasping her hands. “Come, let’s take a shower and get some sleep. In the morning everything will make more sense.”

  She nodded, their footsteps echoing eerily as she walked unsteadily beside Saul out of the card room and toward the large bathroom with views to die for. “We are alone, aren’t we?”

  Saul chuckled at her question, though there was an underlying note of possessiveness to his voice that made her shiver and burn all at the same time. “We are, my love. I have you all to myself.”

  A spasm of lust created wet heat between her thighs. And as he led her across the bathroom’s gleaming expanse of tiles her voice trembled only a little as she asked, “You don’t use the penthouse suite anymore?”

  “No. That is Pascal’s.” Flipping a lever, jets of hot water struck the white tiles below. He turned to her. “I keep it free for his return.”

  She bit her lower lip, nodding. “Thank you.”

  “Don’t thank me,” Saul half growled. “I consider him my son. When you left, he was the only spark in my otherwise dark world.”

  Oh, Saul. Guilt tore at her. “I never meant to hurt you, to hurt my son.”

  He nodded. “I know. I’ve had plenty of time to forgive you for leaving me. To accept that you are who you are. Keeping you from the skies was like asking an angel not to sing.”

  Tears again pricked her eyes. Saul did something to her beyond the physical. He made her feel things too long repressed.

  He kissed her, gently, thoroughly, deeply. Then he was peeling her dress up and over her head and arms. She stood naked before him, luxuriating in the way his eyes feasted on her bare flesh, his stare heating her blood, her womb.

  She stepped closer, dragging his tailored black jacket from his shoulders before unbuttoning his white dress shirt and discarding it too. When he stepped out of his pants and boxer briefs, she couldn’t help but sigh with appreciation.

  For a man just shy of his fiftieth birthday, he kept himself in peak physical condition. Lightly rippled abs, broad shoulders and powerful thighs revealed his love of the lap pool and the gym.

  And lots of sex, a sly voice whispered.

  She ignored the taunt—just. She hadn’t exactly remained chaste since she’d left either. But now that she was back, it was as certain as night following day they’d remain true to one another.

  Steam cocooned them in their own private world as they stared at one another, taking their fill.

  Saul’s cock jerked. He clearly liked what he saw too. He grinned, unabashed. “I think you’ve had enough cock for the moment.” He gestured to the glass sliding doors. “After you.”

  She nodded, ignoring yet another ripple of lust that was somehow heightened by his restraint. But she was a little sore. Saul knew better than any that the size of his cock could only be taken in moderation.

  Warmth drummed all around her as she stepped under the spray. Saul followed her inside the stall and she all but mewled in pleasure when his strong hands gently lathered her hair with vanilla-scented shampoo.

  Her hair rinsed, she closed her eyes as he smoothed soap all over her body, like silk sliding over glass. Her skin shivered in response, her spine quivering at the sudden need to shift to gargoyle, to allow her wings to break out and wrap around them, keeping the rest of the world completely at bay.

  The impulse weakened as she fought it. She was human now, for as long as she had to be. Like it or not, while she was with Saul, her gargoyle side had to be put away, forgotten. She came to him knowing to fully live in his world this time around she’d have to live her life as a human.

  Never mind his insightful words about her needing the skies. Her love for him was strong enough to bear the sacrifice and stay grounded.

  “Come,” he said huskily, flipping off the water. “Let’s get you dry.”

  She stood motionless as he dried her and she fought off waves of tiredness at his gentle strokes. Though fiercely independent as a gargoyle, there was something warm and fuzzy about letting this man take care of her.

 
After drying himself with the same fluffy bath sheet, he scooped her up into his arms and strode to the sitting room.

  Moving into his large bedroom, he carried her to the bed and tucked her beneath crisp white sheets before pulling a soft, velvety bedcover up almost to her chin. “Sleep now,” he said. “We’ll talk some more tomorrow.”

  But tomorrow is your birthday. No words made it past her lips. Her eyes drifted closed and the shadows of sleep beckoned.

  Chapter Three

  Zahlee woke to the scent of breakfast and Saul’s face creased into a pleased grin. “Good afternoon, sleepyhead.”

  Afternoon? She glanced through the wall of glass that was Saul’s window. Late afternoon sunlight was losing its fight against the shadows outside, the tall city buildings looking dreary beneath the darkening overhead sky.

  She sat up, the bedcovers falling to her waist. Her nipples pebbled under his hot gaze, her breasts growing heavy and hard. She swallowed past her dry throat. “I can’t believe I slept for so long. Why didn’t you wake me?”

  “You evidently needed the rest.”

  When he placed the tray beside her on the bed, she noted his impeccable tuxedo, his neatly groomed salt-and-pepper hair. She put a hand to her mouth. Damn! She’d almost forgotten! “Happy birthday, Saul.”

  His grin deepened. Then he leaned in for a kiss, his mouth this time tasting of mint and exotic spices. She leaned into him on a sigh, savoring the moment. Savoring him.

  When they finally moved apart, she said softly, “I’m sorry. I…I didn’t get you anything.”

  “Are you kidding?” He curled a hand beneath her chin, his thumb tenderly tracing over her kiss-swollen lips. “You are the best present I could ever ask for.”

  Her heart stuttered. She’d left him. How could he possibly love her after she’d abandoned him all those years ago? Anguish tore at her. She didn’t deserve him.

  Her belly abruptly gurgled. He barked out a husky laugh then pronged some pancake, dripping with maple syrup, on a fork and lifted it to her lips. She opened her mouth and accepted his offering.