Strip You Bare Page 9

  He wrapped the towel around his waist and walked back out into the bedroom. And Sarah was gone.

  Fuck.

  He hoped to God she hadn’t walked herself home on those damn high heels. She was just stubborn enough—and blind enough about the city’s dark side—to do something like that.

  He didn’t want her to get herself killed.

  And, he just wanted her again.

  He was hard again and while he knew full well he could walk down Bourbon Street, pick up a woman in about ten minutes, and have her back here with her dress pushed up and her panties pulled down, that wasn’t what he wanted.

  Luxury. That was his weakness.

  Always had been.

  Sarah Delacroix was luxury personified. As exclusive as it got. He was the first man to get past the velvet rope, so to speak. He found that pretty damn irresistible.

  Of course, now he’d chased her off. He didn’t know how to deal with virgins. He imagined they took things pretty seriously, all things considered. It was just another reason he shouldn’t have touched her.

  He didn’t know how to take this stuff seriously.

  He also didn’t know how to defer his pleasure.

  And he also wanted to make sure she wasn’t fucking dead. Maybe an overreaction to a stroll through the Quarter at night, but even this early on a Saturday, there were people out tripping balls. They wouldn’t see a woman walking toward them, they would see a dragon.

  Though, honestly, she might be better off if they saw her as a dragon and not a woman.

  He dug through his stuff and found a pair of jeans, tugging them on, before pulling a black T-shirt over his head. Then he grabbed his phone and dialed a number he would rather not have to.

  “Travis. You at the Priory?”

  “Yeah,” Travis said, not bothering to ask who it was. Even with all the years, all the distance, all the everything, he knew.

  “Find out if Sophie can get me Sarah Delacroix’s home address.”

  By the time Sarah sat down on her couch in her sweats, with her glass of wine, she was shaking.

  This was her typical evening routine, a little silence, a little wine. Not usually preceded by hard, aggressive, amazing sex in her family’s beautiful historical home. That was new.

  She startled when she heard a pounding sound on the door, sloshing her wine over the edge of the glass, a dark red spot pooling on her pale sweatpants.

  She froze, because she wasn’t expecting anyone, and she wasn’t about to open the door for a stranger.

  “Sarah.” It was that voice again, that familiar, wonderful voice.

  The voice that had told her, absolutely, coldly, that he did not like to talk after.

  She was a little pissed at that voice, and the man attached to it.

  “What do you want?”

  She heard a clicking sound, and the rattle of her doorknob, and suddenly her door was standing wide open, Micah filling the doorway. “Not standing out in your hallway is the start of what I want.” He took a step into the living room and slammed the door closed behind him. “Getting you naked again would be the next thing.”

  “I didn’t say you could come in.”

  “I didn’t ask if I could come in. I don’t ask.”

  No, he didn’t. He took, he conquered. And standing there, he looked like every teenage fantasy of a bad boy. Ink on full display, that tight black T-shirt clinging to the muscles she now knew with startling intimacy, those tight jeans hugging his thighs like they never wanted to let go, she was having a hard time remembering why she’d been angry. Remembering why she didn’t just want this. Want him. Even if he was an inarticulate ass half the time.

  She didn’t want to marry him, after all.

  But a little more time with his body?

  Who are you? You stormed away from him because he was being an ass. Have some pride.

  Pride in what? That was the question. She took great pride in her last name, in her roots that ran deep beneath the swampy ground here in Louisiana, but right now she didn’t much care for them. Right now, she just wanted to live independently, live in the moment, live for herself.

  You have a luncheon tomorrow. You have to sit in front of Tansey, Jillian, and Louisa, and pretend this didn’t happen.

  Right. Somehow, she would have to pretend that the only thing of note in her life was the recent dissolution of her engagement, not the screaming orgasm she’d been given by a stranger. Not the fact that she’d just lost her virginity. Not the fact that she was having illicit fantasies of experiencing it yet again.

  She needed him out. She needed a more generous stretch of time between facing her friends and Micah having his hands on her skin. And she most certainly needed to put her foot down. Most certainly needed to figure out when this would end, and how. Probably now. Seeing as he had simply walked into her apartment like he had every right, ending it this very moment was likely the most logical.

  “Does the tough-guy, biker schtick ever get old?”

  “Does this fake, cold, rich-chick thing ever get old?”

  She snorted a laugh. “Touché.”

  “I think you still have a fundamental misunderstanding of what exactly a motorcycle club is.”

  “Enlighten me.”

  “I’m not here to enlighten you, baby. On the other hand, I’d love to fuck you again.”

  Her internal muscles clenched in response, and the heat that fired through her veins was from something different than the rage she had hoped might come to her rescue. Sadly, there was no anger, there was no fear. She just wanted him.

  That, however, made her angry.

  One time shouldn’t make her lose her head quite this badly. One man should not have this much power over her body.

  “That’s off the table,” she said, setting her glass of wine down on the coffee table by her couch. “But you are welcome to educate me about your little biker gang.”

  “No, you really don’t want that. The fact that you think you do only proves how little you know.”

  “You’re right. When it comes to your world, I don’t know very much. But that doesn’t make me ignorant.”

  “The thing is, if I’m ignorant about your world, it just means I’ll use the wrong fork at dinner. You stay stupid about mine? You could end up dead.”

  A shiver scampered down her spine. “Are you threatening me?”

  “I don’t have to threaten you. I wouldn’t threaten you, Sarah. We don’t know each other that well, but I hope you know that. I’m not part of this anymore. But I’m back in it for now. Trust me when I tell you I associate with some men who would. I told you, I’m looking into some things here, and whoever is involved doesn’t think anything about killing people. Wouldn’t think anything about killing you. You may not understand it, you might think it’s stupid. But the rules for clubs here run deep. You’re protected by society, by the rules you have here. By the law. We are under all that. Deep underground. It doesn’t touch us. We have to fight for our own, protect our own. And you can be damn sure there are those of us who kill. This isn’t a game, and no one is playing at being tough.”

  She swallowed hard. “I thought you were going to protect me,” she said, her voice small.

  “How can I do that if you don’t understand what’s in the shadows?”

  “Okay, I get it. You’re talking about seriously violent guys. You aren’t going to protect me any better if you’re sleeping with me. So, I’m going to go ahead and say it’s not a necessity.”

  “Considering the reaction you had to me earlier, it’s pretty necessary.”

  “How did you come to that conclusion?”

  “Because you won’t be able to resist.”

  She let out a sound that was halfway between a laugh and a snort. “You think?”

  “I think,” he said, crossing the room, stalking toward her, his dark eyes intent, “that if I told you to get on your knees right now, undo my belt, take out my cock, and suck it, you would.”

&nbs
p; She was frozen then, her heart trapped in the middle of a beat, her stomach twisting painfully. She tried to suck in a breath, but she couldn’t. All of her words were scattered, and she tried to chase them around her brain, collect them so she could form a sentence. But it proved impossible.

  “Yeah,” he said, filling the silence for her. “I could have you right now if I wanted to. Any way that I wanted. I could bend you over this couch and be inside you before you even had a chance to protest. And you would like it. Because you want it. I don’t care what you say, we both know it’s true.”

  She tried to speak again, but no sound came out. She was pinned to the couch, the force of his gaze holding her there. She could only sit there, could only wonder what he might do next. What she would do in response.

  She knew that being with him again was a bad idea. But he might take the choice away. And if he did . . .

  She thought back to how good it had been. How good it would be if he closed the distance between them, grabbed hold of her wrists, held her hands behind her, laid her back on the couch, and had his way with her.

  Instead, he took a step back. Then another.

  “I think,” he said, “that would be a little bit too kind of me. You want me to do that, don’t you? You want me to do it so it isn’t your fault. But I don’t think you deserve that. If you want it again, Sarah, you have to ask me. You have to beg me.”

  He turned on his heel and started to walk out of the apartment.

  “Wait,” she said.

  He stopped, but he didn’t turn. And now she had to figure out why exactly she had stopped him. If she was going to confess to wanting him, or if she was going to let him keep walking.

  She couldn’t confess to wanting him.

  “What?” he asked, his patience clearly short.

  “Are you still going to . . . be around if I say no?”

  She hadn’t meant to ask that, but she supposed it was relevant. Because it was just cruel of him to try to scare her with all of the dark things that lurked in the alleys here in New Orleans, things she had somehow touched now—because of the mansion, because of him—only to then withdraw his protection.

  “I’ll keep following orders.”

  His words were hard, definitive. And after he spoke them, he walked out, slamming the door behind him, leaving her alone.

  She picked her wine back up and lifted it to her lips, half expecting him to come back. He didn’t.

  She got up and walked to the door, locked it, taking another drink of her wine. She took a deep breath and turned, pressing her back against the hard surface. She needed to relax. She needed to figure out what she was going to wear tomorrow. And she needed to not waste any time regretting the fact that he had left, the fact that he hadn’t taken what she had so desperately wished he would.

  You’ll have to beg.

  Well, she wasn’t going to do that. So that was done. A temporary, insane diversion on the straight and narrow road that was her life. End of discussion.

  She was wearing pearls. Because pearls always made her feel particularly put together.

  Combined with the pearls was a cream-colored sheath dress that hugged her curves without hugging them too tightly, because she had to look like a lady, after all. She had pantyhose on her legs and some classic black velvet pumps on her feet.

  She felt every inch Sarah Delacroix, the Southern belle she’d been raised to be, and not that dirty whore she’d been back at the mansion yesterday.

  She wasn’t even going to think about that. No, she was not, because she was sitting at a table surrounded by her friends, and she didn’t even want a sexual thought flitting through her mind, lest they somehow read it clearly.

  “I bought a horse,” Tansey was saying. She had been holding court for the last twenty minutes, which was nothing unusual. But it seemed worse now than usual.

  She had her champagne glass raised, halfway, her gigantic engagement ring glittering on her left hand. Sarah was beginning to wonder if she was holding her glass that way for the sole purpose of showing off the rock. As if the three of them hadn’t spent the past six months admiring it every time they saw her, to help appease her.

  “I just drove by the stables and happened to stop,” she continued. “I was just going to look at him and then the next thing I knew I agreed to ride him, and then . . . well, I just had to have him.”

  Jillian laughed, and for some reason the sound grated on Sarah’s nerves. “I bet David was mad.”

  “Daddy bought it for me,” Tansey said. “In a few months, I’m all David’s problem, but for now . . .”

  “How are you doing, Sarah?” Louisa asked, turning her sharp blue eyes and vaguely ferrety face in Sarah’s direction. “You know”—she lowered her voice unnecessarily—“since the breakup.”

  Three sets of eyes were now glued to Sarah. She put her hands flat down on the table, suddenly conscious of her bare ring finger. And it might’ve been just her imagination, but she was almost certain that Tansey raised her glass higher, all the better for the light to glitter more intensely on that diamond.

  “Fine. Discovering just how many deposits are absolutely nonrefundable. Even when your grandfather’s secretary makes threats about people never working in this town again. A lot, in case you’re wondering,” she said.

  “Oh dear,” Jillian said, frowning. “Poor Sarah.”

  “I can’t even imagine,” Tansey said. “My parents have put so much into my wedding. They would be devastated if it were called off. We’ve sent out invitations, my dress is being made . . . I would feel too guilty. I could just never do it.”

  “I couldn’t reconcile with Charlie,” Sarah said. “Not after what happened.”

  She had always spoken about it in vague terms with her friends, and now she wasn’t sure why. Protecting him? Even when he didn’t deserve it? Probably protecting her pride more like. Not wanting to reveal unsavory details, not wanting to make too many ripples.

  She hated that about herself. Right then she really hated it.

  “I think it’s great,” Tansey said, setting her glass down and flipping her hair back, making that ring glitter even more. “It’s just, I can’t fathom how easily you decided not to care. I could never do that. I care too much about my family. Good for you. You did what was right for you.”

  For a moment, Sarah couldn’t speak. And her friends took that moment to ramble right on through the silence and find a new subject. To pretend that Tansey hadn’t just insulted Sarah on the back of a strange and false compliment. Sarah wasn’t shocked. Not shocked that everyone was pretending it hadn’t happened, and not shocked that it had happened.

  Because this was how Tansey talked to people. This was how they all talked to each other. This was their version of friendship. Their version of communication. Subtle one-upmanship at the expense of other people’s feelings. And everyone was expected to take it in turn, so that nothing was spoiled, and carts weren’t upset.

  And normally Sarah went along with it. It was who she was, what she did.

  Or, it had been. Had been before she’d met Micah Carpenter. Before she’d dropped down to her knees in front of him and done dirtier things than she’d ever even fantasized about before. Until he’d shown her a completely different part of herself. One that was wild, untamed. When they didn’t care about propriety and expectation, but about satisfaction.

  She had decided to forgo more of that last night in preparation for today. She had chosen to put that part of herself back inside its carefully locked box all for these people. These people who didn’t like this version of her anyway, at least not all that much. Why was she doing this? Why had she been doing this all of her life?

  She looked around the restaurant, at the beautifully appointed tables with smooth, pristine linen. At the perfectly dressed diners and the pristinely outfitted waitstaff. And then she looked back at her friends, perfectly coiffed, elegantly presented to the world.

  She hated all of it.

  B
ut not any more than she hated her part in it.

  “I can’t believe you would say that to me,” Sarah said, the words leaving her lips before she had a chance to process them. That was happening a lot lately. She blamed Micah for that too, but right now she wasn’t sorry.

  “Oh,” Tansey said, waving a hand. “Don’t be offended. I meant it as a compliment.”

  “No, you didn’t.”

  Tansey blinked. “Yes, Sarah, I did. You were looking out for yourself instead of worrying about the welfare of your family. I admire that. It takes strength.”

  “No, you’re implying that I’m selfish. Selfish because I didn’t want my future husband sleeping with other women. That’s what he was doing. He was having sex with other women,” Sarah said, not bothering to modify her tone out of deference to the hushed, upper-class atmosphere around them.

  “Sarah,” Jillian said, her tone gentle, “I think you’re overreacting.”

  “I’m just tired,” Sarah said, standing, taking hold of the napkin that had been pressed smoothly in her lap and putting it back on the chair. “Tired of this. Tired of pretending. Which is why I broke up with Charlie, really. I don’t like playing this game. I’m not going to play it for the rest of my life. I hope you love David, Tansey. Because if it’s just part of this charade, you’re making a very big commitment to it. I wasn’t willing to do that. Maybe I don’t care about everyone else as much as you do. Maybe I am selfish. But happy with it.”

  She turned away, starting to walk out of the restaurant.

  “Where are you going?” Tansey’s angry question hit Sarah in the back.

  Sarah turned, heat rising in her cheeks, her heart pounding so fast she thought she might pass out. “I thought I might go fuck a biker.”

  The words hit their mark just as she intended, turning several heads at nearby tables and causing her friends’ mouths to drop open. She had never felt so grateful for the shock value of swear words in her entire life.

  And had never found one quite so satisfying to say out loud, either.

  Then, she turned back on her heel and walked out, relishing the image of their shocked faces, relishing the feeling of freedom that was firing through her blood.