The By Request Collection. Kate HardyЧитать онлайн книгу.
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Ruby drove him wild and crazy with want. Yeah, he’d been without a woman for several months, but this woman was more than he’d ever dreamed of. This woman, he couldn’t have even imagined. She was the hottest female he’d met in his life, and she was exactly what he needed to...ah, hell, blow off steam. Her flipping that oaf on his back had been just the beginning. From then on, every word that came out of her mouth, every tempting gesture and coy smile, had been perfect. Brooks had it bad for her. Suggesting taking her to his room had been brash. Insane, really, since he’d known her less than an hour.
No one messes with Ruby unless she wants to be messed with.
Apparently he’d made the grade. ’Cause he was messing with her, and had her full approval.
He scooped her up from the bench, and she automatically wound her arms around his neck as he climbed the outside staircase that led to his room. She was petite and lightweight, and it wasn’t a struggle to carry her up the stairs in his arms. Darkness concealed them for most of the way. Once he slid the key card into the lock and shoved the door open with a hip, he moved inside and set her on her feet. She still clung to him.
Lord have mercy.
They were finally alone. Brooks’s deep sense of decorum kicked in big time. He knew what he was dealing with. She wasn’t some floozy who staked men out in a bar. She wasn’t an easy piece who’d consider him another conquest. He could tell that from the warm glow in her eyes now, from the way all the men at the bar respected her, from the way she’d chosen him and not the other way around. For all those reasons, he wasn’t going to take advantage of the situation.
He brushed a kiss to her lips. “Welcome.”
As antiquated as the inn was, at least the place was clean. There was no flat-screen television on the wall, no wet bar or cushy king-size bed for added luxury. Nor was there a spacious wardrobe closet or a sunken bathtub or any of the things Brooks was accustomed to. Ruby strolled over to peer out the back window. From where he stood, the view was hardly noteworthy or attractive: just a vast amount of unincorporated land. The lack of illumination was actually a plus since there was nothing to see out there. “I’ve never been inside one of these rooms,” she said.
“I figured.”
She whirled around. “You think you’ve got my number, Galahad?”
“Maybe. I know you don’t do this.”
Her bright laughter ended with an unfeminine snort. “You’d like to believe that, right?”
“I do believe it. So, why me?”
She glanced out the window again, gazing into the darkness. “Maybe I like you. Maybe it’s because you came to my rescue—”
“Which you didn’t need.”
She continued, “You came to my rescue with no thought of the danger to your own hide.”
He took a step toward her. “Are you saying I couldn’t take that guy?”
“Hold on to your ego. I’m only saying that you’re the one I want to be with tonight. Can’t we leave it at that?”
He nodded and inclined his head toward the door. “We were about to combust out there. That’s never happened to me before.”
“So, you’re saying you don’t like losing control and decided to slow down the pace?”
“What I’m saying is, you deserve better than that.”
She smiled, and the natural sway of her body as she walked toward him fueled his juices. “There, you see? Things like that are exactly what a girl wants to hear. So, what did you have in mind?”
Her scent filled him up, and the shimmering sheet of dark, straight hair falling off her shoulders gave him pause—was he crazy to slow things down?
Her eyes were on him, warm and soft and patient.
“A drink, for starters?”
Another survey of the room had her gaze landing on the amber bottle of whiskey he’d brought from Chicago sitting on the bedside table. “Okay.”
He grabbed two tumblers and poured the whiskey. The very best stuff. He’d figured he would need some fortification before meeting his biological father, but he’d never thought he would entertain a lady with it.
Standing before her, he offered her a glass. “Here you go.”
She eyed the golden liquid. “Thanks. What should we drink to?”
“To unexpected meetings?”
She smiled. “I’m glad you didn’t say ‘to new beginnings.’”
He wouldn’t. He wasn’t in the market for a lover or a girlfriend. And apparently, Miss Ruby—he didn’t know her last name—wasn’t looking for a relationship, either. She’d dropped enough hints about that tonight. Somebody must’ve hurt her along the way, but Brooks couldn’t delve too deeply into her past. He wouldn’t want anyone prying into his, and tonight was all about the present, not the past or the future.
He touched his glass to hers, and a definitive clink sounded in the room. “To unexpected pleasant meetings.”
She gave him a brief nod and then took a sip, taking time to relish the taste before swallowing. “This is pretty amazing stuff. It surely didn’t come out of any minibar.”
He was surprised she would notice the quality. “Are you a whiskey expert?”
“Let’s just say I know good whiskey when I taste it.”
She took a seat on the bed and continued to sip. He sat beside her, enjoying her quiet company. His heart was still racing, but he was glad he’d toned things down some. She wasn’t a woman to be rushed. And he wanted to savor her tonight, in the same way she was savoring her whiskey.
“Tell me,” she said, “aren’t you afraid that I’ll come to my senses and walk out on you?”
“I don’t think you’re a flight risk, Ruby. So, no. But if you think better of this, I would respect your decision. When I make love to you, I want you to be sure and all in.”
She smiled, and her eyes drifted down to the amber liquid in her glass. “You don’t mince words.”
“You don’t, either.”
She nodded, and her soft gaze met his stare. He reached out to touch her face with a sole finger to her cheek. She gasped, and a warm light flickered in her eyes.
“What do you want, Ruby?”
“Just a night,” she whispered, breathy and guileless. “With you.”
He sensed she needed it as much as he did. To have one night with her before his life would change forever.
Taking the glass from her and setting both of their drinks down on the nightstand, he cupped her face with his hands and gazed into her eyes. “One night, then.”
“Yes,” she said. “One night.”
And then he pulled her up to a standing position so they were toe-to-toe, her face lifting to his. He peered into warm, dark eyes giving him approval and then slowly lowered his head, his mouth laying claim to hers.
Their night together was just beginning.
Brooks’s touch was like a jolt of electricity running the course of her body. One touch, one simple finger to her cheek, one slight meshing of his whiskey-flavored lips with hers, was giving her amnesia about the other men in her life. Men who’d trampled on her heart. Men like Trace, who’d taken from her and hadn’t given back. Trace, the man she’d waited for all these months. She squeezed