The Honeymoon That Wasn't. Debbi RawlinsЧитать онлайн книгу.
“Why are you still holding my wrist?”
“What? Oh, sorry.”
As soon as he let go, she knocked on the dividing glass.
“Yes, ma’am?” The driver’s voice immediately came over the intercom.
Tony pressed the response button. “Sorry, my mistake. We’re fine.”
“Hey, I wanted—”
Tony cut her off with a brief kiss, and then whispered, “When we get on the plane you can have all the champagne you want.”
She slipped her arms around his neck and pulled him closer. “What if I want something else?”
His breath warm and uneven against her cheek, he said, “Such as?”
She shifted so that her hip rubbed him right where it counted, and he tensed. She made him wait a few seconds and then whispered, “Chocolate.”
“Ah…” He chuckled softly. “When we get to the airport you can have that, too.”
“For now I’ll settle for a kiss.”
“You will, huh?”
She nodded, and then waited, surprised by the uncertainty in his eyes. Maybe it was a trick of the shadows, or maybe he didn’t want to take advantage of her because he thought she was drunk. The idea softened her and she tightened her arms around his neck, bringing him close enough that their noses touched. She slanted her head and met his lips.
His reluctance lasted all of a second before he kissed her back, going down with her when she laid back against the cushioned seat. The tinted dividing window prevented the driver from seeing anything and it would be easy to get carried away. Especially with Tony’s broad chest pressed to her breasts, his arousal growing against her lower belly. But they were too close to the airport and if she really wanted to torment him, now was the time.
He’d conspired with Dallas and deserved a helping of torture. Just a little before they got down to the good stuff, she reminded herself, when he parted her lips with his tongue and her determination started to evaporate. She moved her left thigh to rub his hard-on and he groaned against her mouth.
She hadn’t planned on torturing herself, too, but every pore in her body had come alive, her nipples so ripe they ached, and it was a good thing she’d opened her eyes in time to see the first sign for LaGuardia. Knowing they were about to be interrupted, she reached for his zipper. And then secretly smiled when he groaned, and stilled her hand.
“THE CAPTAIN HAS turned off the seat belt sign and you’re free to move around the cabin. However, if you remain in your seat, we ask that you keep your seat belt fastened. Thank you.”
The flight attendant had barely finished her spiel and Dakota reached for her seat belt.
Tony stopped her. “Where are you going?”
She gave him a sleepy smile and twisted around in her seat to face him. “Nowhere.”
Neither of them had a coat so he’d given her his jacket to wear over the dress but this particular position gave him a sneak preview that he didn’t need right now. She’d gotten him so damn worked up in the limo that he didn’t trust his cock anymore.
Getting checked in had cooled him off. Replaying the scene in his head helped do it again. The ticket agent looked as if she thought he was kidnapping Dakota. Fortunately she pulled it together long enough to provide her identification and tell everyone who’d listen that they were on their honeymoon.
“Where are we going?” she asked, and promptly covered a yawn.
“Dakota. You know where we’re going. Dallas talked to you, remember?”
She blinked at him. “Sort of.”
God, he didn’t like this. He cleared his throat. “What exactly do you remember?”
“She packed a bag for me, right?”
He nodded.
“Did she remember my toothbrush?” She yawned again. “My electric one.”
“I’m sure she did.”
“I think I’ll take a nap now.”
“Good idea.”
She shifted so that she could lay her head on his shoulder, and with one hand he shook out a blanket the flight attendant had given them earlier. He draped it over her, and she snuggled closer.
Man, he sure hoped Dallas knew what she was doing. She swore Dakota wasn’t drunk. Just a little tipsy. That she understood exactly where she was going. And who she was with. Because if she didn’t, this weekend or any chance they might have had was going to be so messed up.
4
“THANKS, OTIS. I’ll take it from here.”
“May I get you some ice, sir?”
Tony shook his head. “Nah, we’re okay.” He tipped the bellman three times what he normally would, hoping the guy didn’t call security. Or worse, the police. All the way up on the elevator ride, he’d eyed Tony as if he were Jack the Ripper. Not that he blamed the older man. The way Dakota was acting, everyone from the flight attendant to the cab driver had to be wondering if Tony had drugged her.
He’d practically had to hold her up just to get her off the plane. And then she was so disoriented she kept asking where she was up until three minutes ago when they’d arrived at the suite.
“Do I have any clothes?” Dakota asked, yawned and then stretched, before sinking onto the couch.
Otis stopped on his way to the door and slowly turned around. “May I assist you in any way, miss?” he asked solemnly, his gaze steadily on her and deliberately away from Tony.
She’d taken off his jacket in the taxi and the way she sat, her dress slightly askew, exposed a lot of cleavage. Her lips curved in a teasing smile. “I don’t think so. We’re on our honeymoon.”
The relief on the man’s face was almost laughable. “Ah, I see. Very good.” Backing toward the door, he looked approvingly at Tony. “Very good, sir. I’ll bid you good-night then.”
“See ya, Otis.” Tony hurried to double lock the door as soon as the man was gone. When he turned back to Dakota, she had her eyes closed.
She looked pale against the navy-blue-and-cream floral cushions. But a couple of days on a sunny beach would fix that. The problem now was whether he should leave her here in the living room.
“Dakota,” he said low enough not to wake her if she was sleeping.
She sighed and snuggled down deeper into the cushions, letting one of her high heels slide off her foot. Her feet were long, narrow but dainty, and shining through the sheer black hose her toenails were a bright red.
Her tousled hair looked more sexy than messy, and thinking of how soft and warm and willing she’d been in the limo had him itching to get down to business. But not when she was like this. Coffee. Strong and black. He wondered if that really worked.
He looked away and studied the living room. The tropic-styled suite had to have cost a small fortune. Tony was no expert on decorating or art but he knew about wood and carpentry and the hardwood floors alone had set the owner back a year’s rent for a Queens apartment. Anyone could tell that the rattan furniture was of the highest quality and the artwork on the walls and interesting native pieces casually set on corner pedestals weren’t cheap knockoffs. Expensive knockoffs maybe.
Even the bar area was no afterthought. At least ten feet across against a mirrored wall, the back shelf was stocked with full-size bottles of premium brands and not the miniature version. The refrigerator was full size, too, and loaded with different varieties of beer, according to Otis.