Tempt (Cloverleigh Farms Next Generation Book 4)

Since the moment I saw her enter the bar, I’d been struggling with temptation.

Everything about her was sexy.

That hair—it hung down beyond her shoulders in blond satin waves.

That body—those curves could make a grown man cry for mercy.

That mouth—it was heart-shaped and lush, with her lips painted stop-sign red.

The color was a good reminder. The girl was a knockout, but she looked kind of young, she was alone and vulnerable, and I wasn’t that kind of guy. I had literally just fucking told her she was safe with me, and I meant it. Much as I wanted to, I wasn’t going to touch her.

I was ninety-nine percent sure of it.

Picking up my whiskey, I took a couple swallows to numb the urge.

“So,” she said, her smile seductive. “Can I ask the name of the gallant stranger who rescued me tonight?”

“Zach.”

“Nice to meet you, Zach.” She held out her hand. “I’m Millie.”

I took her much smaller hand in mine—it was soft and pale and smooth. Touching her shot arrows of lust straight to my dick, which had felt like a rocket ready for launch since the moment I locked eyes with her across the bar. I didn’t hold her hand a second longer than necessary, immediately picking up my drink again.

“Are you in town on business?” she asked.

“Yes.”

After an awkward pause, she laughed. “Are you going to tell me what you do when you’re not saving women from creepers in bars?”

“I’m in private security.”

“You’re a bodyguard?”

“Sometimes.”

“What about the other times?”

I cocked a brow and gave her a sideways glance. “You ask a lot of questions.”

“I’m curious about you.” She took a sip of her drink, and I imagined those red lips rimming something other than her glass.

“I don’t like talking about myself.”

“Oh. Okay. I can respect that,” she said. But I’d disappointed her, I could tell.

We sat in silence for another minute or so, and I was beginning to regret agreeing to one more drink. Every second that ticked by, I noticed something else about her that drove me wild. The curve of her shoulder. The long black lashes. The smell of her perfume. She wasn’t even showing off much cleavage, but the silhouette of her breasts in that clingy dress had my mouth watering. I could practically feel the shape of them in my hands, her nipples under my tongue.

What the fuck was the matter with me? Wasn’t I too old for this?

Granted, the shitty end of my shitty marriage had me in a pretty long dry spell, but yesterday I hadn’t even cared. It was like I’d forgotten what it was like to have such a powerful attraction to someone. To feel desire burning through me. Lately I’d been feeling like maybe those days were over—but sitting here next to her made me feel seventeen again.

“Okay, one more question,” she blurted, holding her hands up. “And then I promise I’ll leave you alone.”

“Shoot.”

“What made you come over and save me from that guy?”

A better question was why I’d waited as long as I had. I’d seen the way he was eyeing her, and my protective instincts had kicked in. I knew it was only a matter of time before he made his move. “I know his type.”

“But you don’t know my type.” Her voice was teasing. “What if jackasses in blue blazers are my thing?”

“Are they?”

“No.” She laughed and took another drink. “I was very happy when you grabbed my wrist.” A pause. “For many reasons.”

I guzzled some more whiskey.

“I mean, I’d noticed you sitting by yourself over there and . . . I don’t know. You intrigued me.”

That made me smile. “Yeah?”

“Yes. I couldn’t stop staring.”

“I noticed.”

She laughed again, covering her pink cheeks with her hands. “Was it really that obvious?”

“Yeah, but don’t worry about it. I’m someone who’s always aware of what people around me are doing.”

She picked up her drink and swirled what was left of her vodka in the glass. “That probably makes you really good at your job.”

“Yes.”

She sighed. “I’m good at my job too. But you know what?”

“What?”

She finished the martini and set the glass down on the bar. “I don’t want to talk about my job tonight.”

“Okay.”

“And we don’t have to talk about your job either.”

“Works for me.”

“But we have to talk about something.”

“We do?”

“Yes. I promised my sister I would get out of my comfort zone tonight and talk—no, flirt—with a handsome, mysterious stranger. Guess what?” She gave me an adorably tipsy smile and pointed at my shoulder. “That’s you.”

A chuckle rumbled in my chest. “Lucky me.”

“So how am I doing so far?”

“Oh, I’d say nine out of ten.”

“Nine out of ten!” She shrank back, as if she was offended. “What do I have to do to get the last point?”

Everything that came to mind was unspeakable. Sit on my face. Put your hand in my pants. Let me rub the tip of my cock on that little dimple that appears in your cheek when you smile.

Tossing back the rest of my drink, I plunked the glass onto the bar. “Nothing. I’ll give it to you free—ten out of ten.”

“I don’t want your pity point, Zach. Tell me what you were thinking.”

I rotated my empty glass with one hand, sneaking a sideways look at her. “How old are you?”

“Why? Are your thoughts age-restricted?”

“They should be.”

She lifted her chin. “I’m thirty-two. How old are you?”

“Older.”

“Older like ninety?”

“Older like forty-seven.”

Her eyes raked me over head to foot. “Wow. You’re in great shape,” she said. “You don’t even have suspenders holding up your pants. I mean, you could be wearing sock garters, but who can tell? Maybe I should check your wallet for an AARP card.”

I gave her a menacing glare. “I’m taking my pity point back.”

She tossed her head back and laughed, while I entertained unholy thoughts about my mouth on her throat and my hand up her dress. “Sorry,” she said, trying to compose herself. “I couldn’t resist. But I’m not giving back the pity point. I want a perfect ten.”

Perfect ten. That described her to a T.

The bartender came over and asked if we’d like another round.

Millie sighed. “I shouldn’t. I make very questionable decisions if I have three drinks. And I’ve got an early flight tomorrow.”

“We’re all set,” I told the bartender. “Just the check.” He returned a moment later and set it in front of me.

“Are you sure you won’t let me pay?” Millie asked. I wondered if that was a nickname, short for something else.

“I’m sure.”

“You know, I really do need to thank you.” Her voice was sincere. “I was in a terrible mood earlier. You not only rescued me from a jerk, but you lifted my spirits.”

“Why were you in a terrible mood?”

She smiled. “Look at you being curious.”

“Forget it.” I picked up a pen and signed the check.

“Oh, come on.” She poked my arm. “Don’t get grouchy on me now. I was just feeling a little unlucky is all. Things haven’t been going my way lately.”

“Well, if it makes you feel any better, you did not look like you were having a bad night when you walked in here.”

“You watched me walk in?”

Words tumbled out before I could stop them. “I couldn’t take my eyes off you.”

“Why?”

“Why?” I laughed. Did she really not know how beautiful she was?

“Yes.” She leaned toward me, placing one hand on my leg. “Why?”

I rubbed the back of my neck, taking a time out. However I answered this would likely determine the rest of the night.

Option A: I could do the right thing—the one that kept her safe with me—and say something complimentary but not provocative. Something that would effectively end this standoff with a polite handshake before I went back to my room alone and jerked off while I fantasized about her.

Option B: I could say something obnoxious about wanting to take her back to my room and fuck her with my tongue.

I looked at her hand on my leg and wanted one thing.

I looked in those sweet amber eyes and felt guilty about it.

In the end, I went for something in between.

“Because it’s been a long time since a woman took my breath away.”

Her heart-shaped mouth fell open. Her eyes smoldered. “My heart is beating so fast right now,” she whispered.

I glanced at her chest—a mistake.

Should I invite her to my room, even after telling her she was safe with me? Would she say yes because she was drunk? A guy had to be fucking careful about that. I didn’t know her at all—would she come after me in a month, accusing me publicly of taking advantage of her? In my line of work, I had to keep a spotless record.

But I wanted this perfect ten in my bed tonight.

“Would you like to continue this conversation in my room?” I asked quietly.

“That depends,” she said with a coquettish tilt of her head. “Earlier you mentioned I’d be safe with you. If I go up to your room, does that mean you’re going to keep your hands to yourself?”

“No. My hands will be all over your body.” Leaning closer, I put my lips against her ear. “My hands, my mouth, and my cock. Baby, if you say yes, you’re going to be up all fucking night.”

She sucked in her breath. “Yes. I say yes. Yes.”

For the second time that night, I grabbed her wrist.

The last vestiges of my gentlemanly control went extinct. My manners, which had been on glittering display at the bar, disappeared in a hurry. I shouldered people aside as I pulled her through the crowd. I punched the up arrow button five times in a row, hard. When someone attempted to get on the elevator with us, I stood in their way and growled, “Take the next one.” And the second the doors were closed behind us, I turned around and put Millie’s back against the wall.

With my mouth hovering less than an inch from hers, I slid one hand into her hair, gripping the back of her neck. I slipped the other hand inside the slit of her dress and ran it up the outside of her thigh. I could feel her breath on my lips.

“You are infuriatingly, indecently beautiful,” I told her. “And I might never forgive you for making me want you so badly.”

She put a hand over my cock, which strained against the denim. “Are you going to punish me for it?”

“Hard and repeatedly.”

The elevator dinged, and the doors slid open. I took her hand and strode down the hallway so fast she could hardly keep up. My key card didn’t work the first two times, and I cursed with impatience. Did this fucking door not realize I was about to get laid for the first time in a year by the goddess standing beside me? I knew how to break into a hotel room, and I was about to do it when the light flashed green. I opened the door for Millie, hung the Do Not Disturb sign on the handle, and let it slam behind me.

Inside the room, we rushed for each other, our bodies crashing like lightning. For a few minutes, it was nothing but chaos and heat. My hands on her ass. Her moans against my lips. My tongue in her mouth. Her tits on my chest. My dick growing harder beneath the heat of her palm as she stroked me over my jeans.

I ran my hands all over her body, skimming every delectable, feminine curve. I moved my mouth down her throat, inhaling the scent of her sweetly perfumed skin. “God, you smell so good.”

She tugged the bottom of my shirt from my jeans, and I took my hands off her just long enough to wrestle out of it and whip my T-shirt over my head.

Millie murmured sexy little sounds of approval as she swept her hands over my shoulders, down my arms, up my back. She brought her lips to my chest and teased my nipple with her tongue as she slipped her hand in my pants and wrapped her fingers around my cock.

Groaning, I thrust into her fist as long as I could before a warning bell went off in my head, reminding me that coming in her hand would not be cool. I needed to slow down. Catch my breath. Focus on her.

Yanking her dress up to her hips, I forced her backward onto the bed. Then I dropped to my knees in front of her and spread her legs.

Braced on her elbows, she watched me lift one ankle and kiss my way from the strap of her high heel to the inside of her knee to the firm flesh of her thigh. Her skin was soft and smooth. Her breaths came hard and fast. When I reached the apex of her thighs, I placed her leg over my shoulder and used my tongue to caress the scrap of lace covering her pussy. She gasped, her fingernails scratching at the hotel comforter. I hooked one finger around the lace and pulled it aside, licking up the seam at her center slowly, again and again, tasting her, teasing her, fucking her with my tongue. She was sweet and warm, like melted butter.

“Oh my God,” she whimpered. “I didn’t even have to ask.”

“You should never have to ask.” I barely took my mouth off her to get the words out.

“That feels so good. Oh, my God. This is—how do you know exactly—fuck, I’m so—”

Her words trailed off, becoming moans as I stroked her clit with long, slow swirls and sucked it into my mouth. I eased a finger inside her, groaning as I imagined sliding my cock deep into the slippery, swollen warmth of her pussy. I added a second finger, gratified when her moans turned into escalating cries of desperate need.

“Yes! Don’t stop! I’m so close, please, please, please . . .”

Her begging made me wonder for a second if she’d been with an asshole who not only had to be asked to make her come this way but had stopped before it happened. What the actual fuck was wrong with young guys? It made me even more determined to take her all the way there.

Mere seconds went by before she was coming in quick, fluttering pulses against my tongue, her core muscles contracting around my fingers, her leg tightening against my back, pulling me closer. Greedy for as much as I could get, I continued to devour her until her body relaxed and her cries quieted into breathless pants.

“I want you,” she whispered, “now. Please.”

“I like hearing you say that word—please.” I dragged the black lace thong down her legs and tossed it aside. “It makes you sound like such a good girl. It’s almost enough to make me forget what a bad girl you are.”

“You think I’m a bad girl?” She sounded sort of impressed with herself.

“Yes.” I removed her shoes and stood up, ditching the rest of my clothes. “Walking into the bar tonight looking like that. Putting your eyes on me. Coming up to my hotel room. Letting me taste you. Making my cock so hard it hurts.” I wrapped my hand around my dick and gave it several long, slow pulls. “Do you think that was nice?”

Millie’s eyes were wide as she watched me. Her red lipstick was smeared around her mouth. She was still ungodly beautiful—like a fallen angel. “No.”

“What am I going to do with you?”

She appeared to think about the question somewhat seriously. And it’s not easy for people to surprise me, but what she said made my jaw drop.

“Spank me.”