BRIAN (The Callahans Book 1) (80 page)

              Convincing One World that she would be in a position to negotiate privately with Taylor Montgomery if only they packed up and left the site felt strangely like a lie. In the past, Rose had always fully disclosed her negotiations with her team and never backed down from a fight. The fact that she was ordering her group to retreat without explaining the full picture made her feel conflicted, but she had no choice. If the executives found out that Taylor was slipping into the throws of an affair, he’d surely cut it off and kill her chances of shutting down the pipeline. And if Rose’s team found out her negotiations would include canoodling the handsome billionaire, she’d lose all respect.

              As conflicted as she felt about telling half-truths and dodging prying questions, she pressed on, and within an hour, One World had completely vacated their site twenty yards off from the Starlight trench and were holding steady in their motel rooms at the Travel Lodge on the north side of Bellevue.

              The conflict inside her didn’t wane as she showered and got ready for Taylor. On the one hand, she was growing increasingly nervous about him coming here. What if Carter or Layla or any of the others spied him pulling up? A limo would stick out like a sore thumb in this part of town. On the other hand, she felt increasingly thrilled to be alone with him. She’d replayed their evening together in her head countless times while drifting asleep last night, as well as this morning. She’d thought about who he was, what he did for a living, where he really lived. She had been absolutely blown away when he stepped into the trailer that morning. What did it mean? It couldn’t amount to mere coincidence. It felt bigger than that.

              As she stood over her suitcase, feeling the sting of cool air conditioning on her damp skin, she realized her clothing options were limited. She couldn’t wear the black jeans and sweater she’d met him in. And everything else amounted to her activist gear—simple cotton tees, cargo shorts, sneakers. Taylor gravitated towards suits and ties, and here she was dressing like a refugee.

              She decided on a pair of blue jeans that were tight enough she wouldn’t look ratty, then threw on a black sweater. As soon as she stroked on some mascara and brushed her teeth, her cell vibrated against the porcelain sink.

              “This is Rose.”

              “Someone’s going to knock on your door and give you a bag,” said Taylor. “I hope it’s the right size.”

              “Huh?”

              He hung up right as she heard a knock on her door.

              Cautiously, she opened it to find a young man in a dark suit holding a Versace bag, which he handed to her.

              “There’s a checker cab waiting for you,” he said. “It’ll take you to Mr. Montgomery.”

              “I can’t walk out of here in a dress like this,” she said, peering into the bag.

              “There’s a long Burberry coat in there, as well,” he said with a wry smile. “Mr. Montgomery thinks of everything.”

              “He certainly does,” she said, easing the door closed.

              She set the Versace bag on the bed and lifted a stunning, emerald-green cocktail dress out, then noticed black heels beneath it that were resting on top of the Burberry coat that the assistant had mentioned, as well as a sparkling silver clutch.

              “How the heck would he know my shoe size?” she asked herself, as she wriggled out of her jeans and sweater.

              The dress fit her like a glove, and after a brief struggle, she got the back zipped up and stepped into the heels. The coat was certainly long and concealed the frilly hem on her dress, but glancing down at the black heels on her feet, she still felt apprehensive about padding out to the cab without being seen.

              She moved the contents of her purse into the clutch, then peered out of her motel door, glancing up and down the walk at the neighboring doors.

              The checker cab was idling with its back door open. She had no choice but to make a run for it and hope for the best, so that’s what she did, scurrying with shallow steps, heels clicking across concrete, until she jumped into the back seat and whipped the door closed. Her gaze locked on the row of motel doors, then scanned their windows.

              She breathed a sigh of relief that no one had seen her, as the cab pulled out of the parking lot.

              Not five minutes down the street, the cab pulled into a gas station where a black limousine was idling. Again, Rose glanced around to check that no one from One World had driven down to the gas station. When she saw no one familiar, she stepped out of the cab as the limousine driver opened the rear door.

              “Ms. Cole,” he said with a nod. She smiled when realizing he knew her last name, then eased into the limo.

              Taylor angled his dark eyes on her, as his lip curled.

              “Are you cold?” he asked.

              Rose glanced over her shoulder when the driver shut her door, then said, “No, it’s nice out.”

              “Does the dress fit okay?”

              “Yeah, how did you know my size?”

              “We spent enough time with our clothes off. It gave me a decent sense of your dimensions, but I can’t take credit. One of my assistants made a lucky guess after I relayed your height and weight.”

              “And my shoe size?”

              “If those heels fit, it’s a miracle.” He laughed. “That was a total shot in the dark.”

              Rose straightened her back, untying the sash around her waist and peeling the trench coat off. Then she slid a bit closer to Taylor, asking, “So where are you taking me?”

              The limousine bounced, rolling over a pothole, and Rose fell closer to Taylor, whose hand immediately pressed her stomach, holding her to the seat. When the pavement was smooth again, he rested his hand on her leg.

              “We can’t go back to my hotel since some colleagues are staying there, but I have a little place in Seattle that’s private. I think you’ll like it.”

              Rose glanced out the window at the stark late-morning sun, then returned her gaze to Taylor, whose eyes brightened in the light, turning into their natural slate-blue color.

              “So we have a bit of a drive on our hands,” she pointed out.

              “We do. And everything we need to discuss is much too important to go over in the back of a limousine.”

              “I agree,” she said, feeling the warmth of his hand on her leg. “How will we spend our twenty minutes, I wonder?”

              “I know how I’d like to spend it,” he said softly, leaning in so close that his lips brushed her cheek. “But let me give you the options.” Easing off, he indicated a console across the way. “I can pop a bottle of champagne.”

              “I never drink before dinner.”

              “Smart woman. I have The Weekend’s latest album.”

              “You like The Weekend?”

              He frowned boastfully. “Ever since they performed at my birthday party I’ve been hooked.” He reached for the remote in the door console and turned the music on, but kept it low.

              “That’s nice,” she said, “but hardly constitutes what we could be doing.”

              “I couldn’t agree more,” he said. “I have a number of Mad Libs—”

              “Shut up and kiss me.”

              His hands were slow and smooth, one scooping around her lower back, the other sliding across her waist, until he was cradling her. Rose leaned her head back, relaxing into his arms, as he neared and touched lips with her softly in a light kiss.

              “Did you think about me?” he whispered.

              “Did you want me to?” she asked playfully.

              “I’m not sure I knew what I wanted, but I think not getting involved has flown right out the window.”

              “Did you think about me?” she countered, turning the tables.

              “I did.”

              As he brushed his lips across her cheek in a series of gentle kisses, working his way to her mouth, she asked, “What?”

              “I thought about this mouth,” he said, then kissed her softly. “And these lips.” Again he kissed her. “And I thought about your other lips that I didn’t get a chance to kiss.”

              A rush of heat stirred deep inside, and she smiled, exhaling breathily.

              “Did you think about that?” he asked.

              “Mm-hm.”

              “Did you think about me licking you? You on your back on my bed, my hands gripping your waist, sliding down to your ass, squeezing you and holding you steady, while I lick and suck between your legs?”

              “Oh,” she sighed.

              Taylor grazed his fingertips up her inner thigh, tracing a slow pattern until he reached the cloth strip between her legs. Her knees drifted apart in response. As he teased her, gently brushing his fingertips back and forth, he went on.

              “And I thought about feeling you come on my mouth, the subtle clenches of your climax around my tongue, and the sound you might make when I thrust into you after. Did you think about that?”

              If she answered, she couldn’t hear it, and then his mouth was on hers in a deep kiss, as he pulled her panties aside and began gently exploring between her legs.

              “You feel so warm and wet,” he whispered. “God, your breasts in my face as I filled you, as you rocked and thrust me deep inside you, was unbelievably perfect.”

              “I want you, Taylor,” she whispered on a heavy breath.

              Her hands padded down his chest then found his belt in a scramble to free him. With his belt undone, she pulled his fly down and reached in his slacks, feeling him harden in her hand, though a thin layer of cotton separated them.

              “You know why I can’t stop thinking about you?” he asked, then groaned when she firmly grasped his erection.

              “Why?” Rose began kissing his cheek and feeling the scruff of his dark stubble against her lips as she traveled the length of his jawline, breathing in his scent.

              “Because I could feel you giving yourself to me. I sensed you’re the type who needs to be in control, who needs to direct a man on how to touch you—which is hot, don’t get me wrong. But you trusted me, and you let me work your body into coming, and that is so much hotter.”

              “Well, you were good at it, and quite frankly, I didn’t think you’d succeed.”

              Charmed, he laughed quietly in her ear.

              “The second I held you I knew I was gone,” he added.

              “What do you mean?”

              Instead of responding, he guided Rose to straddle him, pulling the hem of her cocktail dress up around her waist.

              “Won’t we be there soon?” she asked.

              “I can’t wait. You have me too turned on.”

              “Oh,” she moaned. Why did she melt every time he said something sexy? It was nuts.

              He helped her pull his boxer-briefs down and his thick erection sprang out. She grasped and stroked it as he rested his head back, gazing up at her.

              “Goddamn, you little rebel,” he groaned. “What’s wrong with me that the fact you’re here to stop my pipeline has me all the more hot for you?”

              She laughed. “There’s nothing wrong with you. But I will stop you.”

              “Oh is that right?”

              “That is right,” she said, pulling her panties aside and angling his erection against her slippery sheath. “We should get a condom on you.”

              “We should,” he whispered, but seemed too in a trance from feeling her wetness against him to make good on the idea. “For the record, I’m clean. I get tested often.”

              Rose was getting swept up in the lusty logic. She knew she was clean, as well, and the thought of feeling him, hot and hard, thrusting into her with nothing in between was intoxicating.

              When she hesitated, he asked, “Are you on the pill?”

              “Yeah, but is this a good idea?”

              “It feels like a good idea,” he groaned as she lowered, helping his tip slightly penetrate her.

              “It does feel too good,” she moaned.

              “Baby, I need all of you,” he said, holding her face and making her meet his gaze. “So if you want a condom, you’re going to have to get it in my wallet.”

              “Where’s your wallet?” she asked halfheartedly as she lowered farther, expanding around his hard shaft. “Oh, God.”

              “Rose, God,” he groaned. “I’m holding myself back from pulling you onto me all the way.”

              “Me too,” she said, rising up a fraction, but the shift stirred up a burst of heat and felt so good that she had to lower down again, helping the friction build.