Oddly, Lucy’s voice sounded like an infant’s squeaky toy when she spoke. “He told you that?”
“Of course not, silly. It was Pipsqueak who told me all about it—he knows everything, dear.”
Lucy thought that for a discreet butler, Mr. Pimwick sure knew how to pass around the gossip. “You two seem to get along just fine, Irene,” Lucy said, smiling to herself.
“Ha! He’s insufferable is what he is.”
Both women laughed and minutes later, while they were sinking their feet into a tub of delicious, hot bubbling water, Lucy replayed Irene’s words in her mind and felt hopeful. Perhaps Holden wasn’t the womanizer Lucy had assumed him to be. And now that she thought about it, she clearly recalled that out of the dozens of articles published about him over the course of ten years, not once had she read anything about him being involved with anyone.
The knowledge made her heart soar. Because if it was true, it meant Lucy was not his entertainment, was not one of hundreds of other women, and was definitely not the uncomfortable “kept” woman.
Suddenly she was swamped with the memory of Holden’s kiss earlier and she had to press her legs together in an effort to still the sudden, stinging ache in her sex. He’d looked so despicably gorgeous this morning when she’d entered his office that her heart had skipped a beat. His black hair had been mussed, his tie skewed sideways, his cheeks stubbled with a day’s growth of beard. And when he’d kissed her…
“You know? I’m glad he didn’t marry Katrina,” Irene said thoughtfully. “Now I’m lighting all my candles and cheering for you Divine, so please don’t ruin this for me. I want to have grandchildren soon, and so does Pipsqueak.”
Lucy nearly fell off her chair as she turned, wide-eyed, to stare at Irene, who was calmly scrutinizing her nails while a pair of magic hands massaged her feet. “Irene, you couldn’t possibly mean what I think you mean?”
“Why yes, dear. Didn’t I mention that Pipsqueak and I are getting married?”
The devil was right on time. He wore all red, but conveniently forgot the ridiculous tail and the mean-looking little horns at his apartment. Now, the fork he didn’t forget, and he carried it proudly, using it to tap on the front door of his princess’s place in the Upper East Side of Manhattan.
Lucy opened the door of her small apartment wearing a plush robe and a big smile. Before Holden could even open his mouth to speak, she lifted three fingers and said, “Three minutes, that’s all I ask for.”
In a hurry, she disappeared inside, leaving the door wide open for him. Holden felt like he grew four sizes when he followed her into the apartment, closing the door behind him. Her place was…quaint? Yes. Clean? Yes. Extremely tiny? Hell yes.
He waited patiently in the living room, stifling the urge to hunch because of what he thought was an extremely low ceiling height, and instead leaning on his tall plastic devil’s fork while he considered the wisest course of action. The wisest thing would be, naturally, to stay home and kiss her, hold her, make slow, sweet love to her. The way he saw it, he had two choices. He could either wait. Or he could make a move.
Narrow-eyed, he scanned his surroundings. If he took two steps, he’d reach the little kitchen. And if he took five steps he’d be in her bedroom…
Suddenly realizing there were only five steps between him and heaven, he set his fork down over the living room table and headed determinedly toward the partly closed doorway.
His abort-the-benefit-party-and-instead-make-love-to-Lucy mission went up in flames when she pulled the door open, dressed and ready, before he finished the fifth step.
“What do you think?” she asked from the doorway, looking all flushed and beautiful.
Well. First, he never thought someone could look so damned sexy, like a Kama Sutra princess, in such a strange costume. Second, he knew for certain he was going to have a pretty hard time keeping his hands off her for the duration of the event. Third, if she even thought he was going to allow her to prance around Manhattan with that cleavage…
“It’s too tight on top,” he said gruffly.
She laughed and, linking her fingers with his, pulled him toward the door, dragging him across the sidewalk and to the limousine parked outside.
They sat side by side in the back of the limo, his hand firmly settled on her thigh. As the car slowly moved through the darkened streets, Lucy said something about how fun the evening was going to be and Holden forced himself to smile. His entire body felt so tense he could barely even breathe. Every nerve in his body seemed to ache at her nearness, at the feel of her warm body so close to his. He felt weak with it, with the need to touch her.
Positively certain he couldn’t endure this torment a second longer, he shifted his hand upward, slowly stroking it up her inner thigh as he bent his head and softly planted a kiss on her ear, another on the soft skin of her temple. Surprised, she twisted her face to his, and having expected the move he swiftly captured her lips. She gave a startled gasp, presenting him with a golden opportunity to thrust his tongue inside her. He took it, flicking his tongue inside her mouth tentatively at first, then sliding it out and dipping it in again.
Settling his free hand on her jaw, he brushed his thumb over her cheek and kissed her slowly, his lips tender on hers, his tongue slow and gentle as it stroked the insides of her mouth, every inch receiving his full attention. He feasted on her lips, drank in a delicious coffee taste with just a bit of vanilla and a hint of cinnamon.
While he continued to kiss her, he gently took her hand and pressed it to his erection, groaning when she cupped him fully. He’d already rolled up the tinted window that separated them from Carlos and that gave Holden the freedom to kiss her, touch her. He’d sworn to himself a couple minutes ago that he would only kiss her—and maybe grope a little—but now he wanted more. Wanted to grope much more, grope her everywhere.
Gently, he pulled down the fabric covering her chest and growled in delight when it gave way to reveal her glorious round breasts, ripe and ready for him. It would have probably been impossible for her to wear a bra with the damned dress, but now, with the utmost reverence, he mentally crossed himself and blessed it—blessed that holy cleavage.
Bending down, he laved and sucked a pink, swollen nipple, and when he did, he felt a clenching pressure in his cock, felt it throb and pulse while Lucy slowly rubbed it through the fabric of his red devil pants. With her other hand she clutched the back of his head and pressed his face against her breast, writhing in her seat as he sucked her tits, expertly switching from one to the other. He snarled in hunger when he grazed his teeth over a nipple, softly biting the taut crest, fervently wishing he could eat it whole.
“Patrick,” she whispered.
It was the first time she’d actually said his name. It sounded like a prayer, like something sacred. God, he needed her. Like water or air to live. Slowly, his hand returned to her inner thigh and began to inch the silky yellow fabric upward. It rustled as it slid over her legs until it gathered in folds around her hips—and surprisingly revealed the dark, sweet-scented valley between her legs.
“Forget your underwear, Miss Divine?” he asked hoarsely.
She nodded breathlessly, her golden eyes shimmering like jewels in the darkness of the car. His answer was a painful grunt as he briskly dipped his hand to that spot he craved until he held her essence, grinding a slight pressure there with the heel of his palm. She was flooded with hot, slick juices, pooling like cream on his palm. His throat suddenly turned dry. Did they still have a couple minutes so he could haul her up and delve inside her or… She was touching him so expertly, he was shoving his cock against the gentle touch of her hand and practically begging for it. Though Holden never begged, he was willing to make plenty of exceptions with Lucy.
Shifting his hand, his middle finger found her delectable little pearl and slowly began to toy with it, making her buck her hips like a wild one. Grabbing his forearm in a death grip, she sank her nails into his skin and threw her head back ag
ainst the seat, gasping for air.
He groaned at the temptation the luscious curve of her neck posed and went after it with a vengeance, swirling his tongue over every inch of skin. She squeezed his dick through his pants as if she wanted to break it, tearing a raw groan out of him. Seconds later, she yelped in pleasure when he thrust his middle finger inside her. Honey oozed around his finger as her muscles clenched him, drawing him deeper, up to her center. Smoothly withdrawing, he touched the tip of two fingers to the slick outer folds before screwing them inside her with a harsh twist of his wrist. She cried out, the walls of her cunt opening then tightening around his fingers as they buried themselves as far as they could go. The scorching feeling of her swollen muscles so tight around his fingers made the sweat glisten on his brow and the burning flames in his body become unbearable.
Feverishly, her hand pulled on the drawstring of his pants, diving past the elastic of his cotton underwear. He made a sound of stark need when she touched his iron-hard erection and cupped him in her palm. His cock burned, and Holden could feel the tip of it already damp with his own come—almost spilling before she’d even touched him. She pressed his cock with the heel of her hand and splayed her fingers over his balls, driving him crazy with need.
He sought her mouth and kissed her, their lips parting in unison and their tongues meeting halfway. Curling her fingers around the base of his shaft, she began to jerk it upward, intuitively knowing just how he liked it. They both groaned when they began a slow, endless rhythm, his fingers sliding in and out of her sex, her tight grip moving up and down the length of his hardness. They moved in perfect accord, their tongues playing wildly inside each other’s mouths while their hands moved over their sexes in a blissful, blessed rhythm.
He climaxed in her hand, spilling his semen over her knuckles, and she came in his palm, her desire spurting in his hand in orgasm. Their mouths remained locked together as tremors rocked their bodies for what seemed like an eternity, until they fell back on the seat, limp and breathless.
For the remaining ride to the Four Seasons Hotel and its sumptuous Cosmopolitan Suite, they rode so close together their bodies occupied only the slightest space on the long leather seat.
Fully relaxed now, Holden closed his eyes and rested his cheek against her velvety blonde hair, while Lucy pressed her face to his chest and held his hand above her lap, her little fingers entwined with his.
Suddenly tempted by the tiny piece of heaven that was her hand, the one that moment’s ago had driven him so damned crazy, Holden lifted it to his lips and turned it, pressing a kiss on the center of her palm, and before he knew it he was kissing each fingertip, each knuckle, every inch of skin in between. Lucy was giggling, weakly attempting to break free.
“A little ticklish are we, Miss Divine?” he asked gently as he grazed his lips over the heel of her palm and began to trail a path of kisses up the sensitive skin on her arm.
“Yes!” she squealed, writhing over the seat and futilely pulling on her arm. “Stop, Holden…let go!”
But of course, Miss Divine didn’t realize Holden had no intention of letting her go. Ever.
The event space was noisy and crowded by the time they arrived, and Lucy was blissfully overwhelmed among such decadent splendor. Light beech-paneled walls and magnificent backlit onyx panels surrounded the room, the ample space further enhanced by high ceilings boasting dozens of modern dark-iron chandeliers. The round tables bespoke of elegance, with their glinting silver place settings and sumptuous floral arrangements overflowing with exotic blooms. Long, white tapered candles flickered daintily as a band at the far end of the room played a soft rock song to which couples danced on the crowded dance floor. The guests and benefactors—who had paid two thousand dollars a head for their dinner tonight—wore an assortment of amazing costumes, from medieval kings to swaggering pirates to werewolves, maids and witches.
Lucy knew none of these people, and yet her rebel devil—who’d conveniently lost his only devil prop by now—seemed to know them all, and it seemed as though everyone knew her rebel devil.
“Mr. Holden.”
“Patrick Holden, how are you this evening?”
“Good evening, Patrick.”
“Holden, my man!”
Lucy heard his name dozens and dozens of times in a vast array of voices. She didn’t really mind, of course, for it was her very favorite name in the whole world now, but after a while she wished these people could leave them alone. He was her devil tonight, after all.
After someone had abducted him for an eternal two minutes to greet someone else, he returned to her side, glowering.
“Remind me to decline next time,” he said gruffly, making her smile.
A pimp-like character with gold chains, fur coat and a cigar approached, patting Holden on the back. “Congratulations on Skytek. Good move, Holden.”
Lucy agreed. That had been a good move. Great move, in fact. But she didn’t blurt it out, for all the partygoers seemed to have one thing in common—they ignored Lucy’s presence completely. The pimp was no exception so she dutifully waited, like a good Nine of Pentacles would have waited for her bird. Calmly.
By the time a tall, breathtakingly beautiful Dorothy, including basket and plush Toto, walked up to them, Holden had just turned his attention back to Lucy and he seemed ready to bolt.
“Why hello, Patrick,” she said in an oddly familiar voice. She was the only person at the whole bash who seemed interested in Lucy—inordinately so. Her blue eyes took in every aspect of Lucy’s appearance in one swift, single motion.
“Hello Miranda,” Holden said, wrapping his arm around Lucy’s waist and pulling her to his side. “Lucy Divine, Miranda MacFadden.”
He spoke his introductions matter-of-factly, as if there was nothing odd about this situation and nothing uncomfortable about the fact that he’d cancelled his date with Miranda to attend with Lucy. Naturally, the women’s eyes clashed and their smiles as they looked at each other were so false they could have been glued to their lips.
Lucy greeted her out of pure politeness, something that apparently Miranda wasn’t taught when she was a little girl.
In answer, Miranda’s eyes swept over Lucy’s dress slowly, deliberately, and Lucy inwardly winced at the blatant disgust on her face. “What on earth do you call that costume? Old Maid?”
“I’m the Nine of Pentacles,” Lucy said proudly, as if it were obvious.
If she’d refrained from speaking at all, Miranda MacFadden would have ignored her equally.
“Patrick?” She turned and blinked at him, her lips twitching at the corners. “Isn’t she your secretary?” She spoke the last word in the same tone one would use to say “excrement”.
Before Lucy could open her mouth, Holden said, “As a matter of fact, no. She’s the new head of mergers and acquisitions at Holden and Investors. Now if you’ll excuse us, I owe Miss Divine a dance.”
And with that, he dragged her onto the dance floor and pulled her into his arms just as the band began a slow ballad.
Wow. Her falcon had sure come back with some startling news.
“You did not just say that,” Lucy said, wide-eyed, wrapping her arms around his neck as his hands settled on her hips and hauled her close to him. It felt completely right, to be held this way by him, to lose herself in the dark depths of his eyes.
“You make a lousy princess anyway—or Nine of Pentacles. Or whatever,” he said, his eyes glinting as his lips spread into a grin. “You’re much better at mergers.”
Lucy laughed, fleetingly garnering the attention of a few curious couples dancing nearby. Then she sobered and shook her head. “Holden, I’ve got no experience whatsoever. You cannot possibly be serious.”
“I’m dead serious.”
No, he couldn’t be. “There are millions of other people much better qualified for the job than me.”
“Really? And as honest and dedicated as you? I don’t think so.”
She shook her head, her smile
barely fitting her face. “I can’t accept this.”
“This is purely professional, Lucy,” he said, tightening his grip on her hips.
He really made the most handsome devil. There was a darkness to his face, a stubbornness to his chiseled features, a power in his stance. He was, quite frankly, just as dark, powerful and mesmerizing as that Wall Street bull he’d purchased. Wasn’t there a saying about people’s likenesses to their pets?
“This job was meant for you. I read your résumé Lucy, you can do this.”
Was she dreaming? She could always pinch herself, but she’d be loath to move her hands from his nape, where they’d settled so contentedly. “Oh God, I…” Dazed, she shook her head slightly in an attempt to clear it.
He caressed her face with his eyes. “Just say yes.”
“Holden, I’m…flattered really…but…”
“I swear this has nothing to do with the way I feel for you—my gut just tells me you’re right for the job, and I always follow my instincts.”
Lucy felt the blood rush hot and heady through her veins, and she pretty much knew it had nothing to do with the fact that she was being offered her dream job, the one near the very top rungs of that tall, seemingly endless corporate ladder. It had everything to do with what he’d said before that, something that made her feel breathless and speechless and wonderful. What did he mean, “how he felt about her”? Suddenly, everything and everyone around her seemed to fade away until there was only Holden, his lips unbearably close to hers, his legs and thighs brushing against hers as they danced.
“Say yes,” he urged softly, his eyes shining like moons in a pitch-black night.
“Yes,” she breathed against his lips, silently vowing never, ever to disappoint him, as she stood on tiptoes so she could confirm the answer with a kiss.
Some funny person thought it would be a good time to interrupt, and through the haze and heat of his nearness and the fleeting touch of his lips against hers, she heard someone say, “Heard about your offer for Finrod Tech, Holden. You think it’s really worth that much?”