Two years ago

Always the bridesmaid…

This was the fourth wedding where Sasha had been forced into a horrific, frothy, itchy gown that looked terrible on her and she would have never chosen to wear.

If she was ever the bride, she wouldn’t make such awful choices.

She shoved the thought aside. The way her dating life looked, Sasha would never receive a proposal.

Leah, today’s bride, insisted there was a reason Sasha found every man lacking. She was measuring them against an impossible standard, one that had been set more than a decade ago.

Sasha had shaken her head as she’d informed Leah she was wrong. But deep down, in a place she didn’t want to acknowledge, Sasha recognized she was lying to herself.

Around her, the ballroom of the upscale boutique hotel in downtown Denver buzzed with conversation and laughter.

A band played in the corner. Obviously, the quartet with their smooth melodies had been chosen by Leah’s grandmother, who was paying for the whole shindig. Sasha hadn’t recognized a single tune yet. The music was too refined for her tastes. She craved something with a beat, something she could lose herself in, maybe even a line dance.

Nursing a glass of champagne, she stood at a tall, round table off to one side.

Her whole life, she’d been a misfit. She wouldn’t be here tonight if she hadn’t been paired with Leah on a college project, when they’d become fast friends.

With a sigh, Sasha took a sip, and the bubbles tickled her nose. The stuff was okay, no doubt uber expensive, but she had little appreciation for life’s finer things.

On the dance floor, the bride and groom swayed together, oblivious to everyone. They looked so happy, so in love. What would that be like?

Part of her envied them—a little.

But not enough to settle or give up the life she’d chosen.

“Sasha. Would you…would you like to dance?”

She glanced up at Tristan, the groomsman she’d been matched with for the festivities.

He sidled up to her, his shoulder brushing against hers. His expensive cologne was just as cloying as it had been earlier.

Tristan seemed harmless enough, even if all he talked about were his trips and cars. They had less than nothing in common, and in other circumstances she doubted he’d do anything other than look down his patrician nose at her.

Still, what harm was there in spending three minutes in the arms of a man good looking enough to pose for the cover of a Hampton’s fashion magazine?

“Sash?”

Maybe it was the sudden melancholy, a longing for something she might never have or the urge to hurry time along, but she gave him a fake smile. “Sure.” She slid her glass back onto the table.

The itchy fabric chafed her inner arms. With a sigh, she attempted to adjust the bodice of the gown.

“Let’s go.”

Instead of waiting for her, he headed to the dance floor. She trailed, seemingly an afterthought.

A pity dance for the wallflower?

Had Leah or her groom put him up to this?

With a movement that wasn’t as smooth as she expected, he turned to her then pulled her into his arms, a little too close for her comfort. His breath smelled of something much stronger than champagne. Whiskey, maybe, or bourbon. No wonder he’d taken a bath in his cologne. Something had to overpower the scent of alcohol.

How much of this song was left, anyway?

Without asking her anything about herself or making polite conversation, he extolled the virtues of his latest purchase, a car reported to cruise along at over two hundred miles an hour.

“Isn’t the top speed in this country eighty or eighty-five?”

“My car can be shipped to other places in the world. Or tested on racetracks.”

Schooled by the trust fund baby. “I see.”

Resisting the urge to roll her eyes, she tuned out as he launched into his next soliloquy.

“What do you say…?”

Realizing she’d completely tuned him out, she shook her head. “Sorry?”

Impatiently, he expelled a breath. “I said we should head somewhere quieter.”

Before she could respond, the tiny hairs on her nape stood up, warning of danger.

Someone was watching her.

Surreptitiously, she looked around, scanning the crowd, but she noticed nothing amiss. And yet, the feeling persisted. It was like an itch between her shoulder blades, a prickle of awareness she couldn’t shake.

“Are you paying attention?” He pulled her closer, his hand sliding lower on her spine.

She stiffened and eased back a little, not quite ready to bring her heel down on his instep, but getting closer.

From nowhere, a hulking presence appeared and forcefully tapped Tristan’s shoulder.

“Get your fucking hands off her.”

Both she and Tristan froze.

Sasha would know his voice anywhere. The deep, rich baritone danced through her dreams, echoed through her fantasies.

Gregorio.

God save her.

No.

“Who the hell do you think you are?” Tristan demanded.

Protector. Lethal warrior. Her fiercest defender. And biggest nemesis. The man she’d been certain she’d never see again.

Rather than answering, Gregorio leaned toward Tristan, getting in his face. When he spoke, his tone was controlled and steely, filled with threat. “Do you need me to repeat my question, pretty boy?”

Tristan’s eyes widened, but ego—and maybe whiskey—propelled him toward recklessness. “Look, dude, I’ll have you know—”

“Tristan,” she urged, finally able to shake off her paralysis in order to act. “Don’t.”

He opened his mouth again, but then he looked at Gregorio, who stood several inches taller and was much broader.

His massive biceps strained against the sleeves of his suitcoat.

No polite, civilized veneer could possibly hide the power coiled in his frame, the barely restrained violence.

A diamond earring winked from one ear.

In a past life, he could have been a pirate.

Gregorio was thrilling and terrifying all at once.

Even though Tristan was lean, in a yoga or runner-type of way, they all knew Gregorio could take him apart in a single move.

What he didn’t know was that Gregorio would do just that, no matter the setting.

“You’re trying my patience, pretty boy. I’ll give you the count of three to get lost.”

Immediately, Tristan released Sasha and stepped back.

He adjusted his tie as he cleared his throat. “Uh, yeah.” He looked her up and down. “Bitch like you isn’t worth the effort anyway.”

Her mouth dropped from shock as he pivoted and strode away.

Before she could recover, another song started. Gregorio swept her into his strong arms and moved them closer to the band, away from prying eyes.

“Interrupting my dance…” She could handle herself, and a man like Tristan wouldn’t have posed much of a challenge. “That was uncalled for.”

“Was it?”

He sounded appallingly unconcerned.

For most of her teenage years, he’d repeatedly stuck his nose in her business. He’d been her constant shadow, always watching, always intervening. It had been equal parts comforting and infuriating.

He swept a searing, appreciative gaze over her.

Then before she could protest, he nudged her in closer, leaving her no choice but to inhale his spicy, outdoorsy scent. It was familiar and foreign all at once, bringing back a rush of memories—late night conversations, shared laughter.

“I mean it, Gregorio.” She tried to pull back, but he tightened his grip. “You had no right to do that.”

“Hmm.” He flicked a casual glance toward Tristan, who was making a beeline to the bar. “Pretty boy insulted you. He should drop to his knees and thank his lucky stars I didn’t tear him apart limb from limb.”

She shuddered. Not from fear, but from a sudden, visceral awareness of his strength, his power. It was like being caught in the gaze of a predator—exhilarating and paralyzing all at once.

“Furthermore, you should be thanking me.”

“Thanking you?” He thought he could show back up in her life and tell her what to do? “You need to get over yourself.”

“He’d have been fun until he fucked you, then abandoned you. He’d have sweet-talked you into not using a condom, then refused to take responsibility.”

She gasped.

“You’re in investigations, supposedly.” He lifted a shoulder in a casual shrug. “Look up the men you’re considering inviting inside your home.” He paused. “And your body.”

“Jesus.”

“Tell me he didn’t try to take you upstairs.”

Flushing, she looked away.

“He’d be good for a minute, maybe two.”

She opened her mouth to speak but no words emerged.

“If he could get it up after consuming all that alcohol.”

Sasha longed to argue, to tell him he was wrong, but the words stuck in her throat.

“You seem remarkably well informed.” She narrowed her gaze. “Or are you merely jealous?”

He chuckled, immediately dismissing her taunt—his sound one of pure male superiority.

“What I do and with whom I do it is not your concern.” She paused, then breathlessly rushed on. “And it never was, actually.”

“Still telling yourself lies, Petal?”

Petal?

The nickname hit her hard, a flashback, a timeless moment. It was so much more suited to the teen she’d been than the fully capable adult woman she was now, and yet she liked it more than ever.

“You’ve always needed a protector.”

Fuck off. “Just because—”

“Obviously, you still do.”

That she didn’t have an instant comeback was likely because she was reeling in shock from seeing him again. Leah had talked endlessly about the people who’d be in attendance, and Gregorio’s name hadn’t been mentioned.

The irony of running into him at a wedding didn’t escape her, considering the last time they’d seen each other, she’d been seated in the front row of the divorce proceeding between him and her older sister—a place she wished she’d never gone.

It had been the worst day of her life, watching two of the people she loved most in the world tear each other apart. She’d clenched her hands, body frozen, as the lawyers laid out the sordid details of their failed marriage—the lies, the betrayals, the slow, painful unraveling of a love she’d once thought was forever.

“I was hoping for a memorable experience tonight.” Probably wouldn’t have happened with Tristan, but Gregorio didn’t need to know that.

“Memorable? Maybe I can help you out.”

You?

Almost missing a step, she blinked and searched his face for some hint of mockery, but found only an intense sincerity that made her breath catch.

In an instant, he released her, only to immediately clamp a hand around her wrist and all but drag her from the packed ballroom and down the hall into a janitor’s closet.

Never pausing, he kicked aside a bucket, sending the mop clattering to the floor, the noise so loud it echoed in her ears and covered the sound of a lock being ratcheted home.

In a single move, he slammed her up against a wall and raised her hands above her head to pin them in place.

“Gregorio…”

He leaned in closer.

Suddenly, the only sounds were her frantic breaths and thundering heart.

She was a competent bodyguard and security agent. People counted on her to protect their lives. But this close to Gregorio, she was helpless, ensnared by his masculine prowess. “What the hell are you suggesting?” And why aren’t I running away screaming?

“You want something memorable, Petal? I’ll make damn sure this is an evening you won’t soon forget.”

Slowly, he traced his thumb down the column of her throat, bringing it to rest on the frantic pulse that thundered there. His touch was electric, shooting wildfire through her veins.

“Open your mouth.”

Desperate to save herself, she shook her head.

“I won’t force you.” He quirked an eyebrow. “I won’t need to.”

What cocksure arrogance.

“You want this,” he stated. “You want me.”

Once more, she frantically shook her head. But even as she denied it, she knew it was true. She’d always wanted him, always craved his touch, his attention, his approval. It was a secret she’d carried for so long it had become a part of her, as essential as breathing.

He pressed lightly on her throat. “Your actions say one thing but your body says another. It’s speaking to mine, isn’t it?”

She should deny what he said.

“Right now, this moment, you’re feeling compelled to spread your legs as wide possible, right after you pull up your dress and show me your secrets.”

“No.”

As if she’d said nothing, he went on in his hypnotic way. “Once you do that, you’ll want me to slide my fingers inside your panties and give you an orgasm that would make you scream if we weren’t in public.”

He leaned impossibly closer and she stared at him, unable to look away. His eyes were dark, almost black in the dim light of the closet, and filled with a hunger that matched her own.

Protests sprang to mind, and each died before emerging. Instead, she was captivated by his air of confidence, worn as easily as the suit hugging his powerful frame.

“But since anyone walking by could hear you, I’d have to silence your cries with my mouth.”

Sasha didn’t want this. Shouldn’t. Yet her body betrayed her. Her clit throbbed with need, and an ache built deep inside her.

“Tell me to let you go, Petal. Or use your pretty little mouth to ask me to kiss you and bring you off.”

His crudeness made her gasp.

“Or I can walk away right now and leave you wondering, turned on and frustrated.”

Embarrassed, she worried her lower lip. But beneath the embarrassment was a thrill, a dark excitement at the thought of surrendering to him, of letting him take control.

Something she’d spent years longing for.

“I’m betting you’d stay behind for a while to masturbate to the fantasy of what you could have had but didn’t have the courage to ask for.”

Damn you.

“You and I would both know what you were doing, wouldn’t we?”

He was impossible.

“Since I’m a gentleman…”

What an absolute lie.

“I’ll offer you the same courtesy I gave pretty boy. You’ve got three seconds to respond.” He waited. “Three.”

She vowed to remain silent.

“Two.”

To keep herself from whimpering with need, she pressed her lips together.

“One.”

True to his word, he released her wrists.

Helplessly, she left her arms in place. “Gregorio.”

He turned toward the door.

Need consumed her. “Gregorio!”

Hand on the lock, he stopped.

“Kiss me?”

He turned to face her. “Now you’ll have to use your manners.”

Sasha squeezed her eyes shut. Do you have to make me beg?

“The words, Petal.”

With a gulp, she nodded. “Please. Please kiss me.”

“Nice start.”

Still, the determined bastard didn’t move.

“Now, repeat after me—please use your hand to bring me off.”

For years, she’d had a case of hero worship for this forbidden man—since he’d saved her entire family. If it weren’t for him, she would never have gone into the personal security field, wouldn’t have had the courage to take the risks that made life worth living.

This moment thundered with danger.

If she gave in and asked for what she needed, would her sister see it as a betrayal?

Yet she lacked the conviction to send him away.

“What will it be, Petal?”

She was powerless to resist the sway he held over her. Softly, she said, “Please use your hand to bring me off.”

“Very nice.”

His approving purr thrilled her, made the awful words worthwhile.

“Now lift your hem and bunch the dress around your waist.”

No man had ever been this outrageous with her, yet there wasn’t a single part of her that considered denying him. Her hands shook as she reached for the hem, her heart pounding so loudly he had to hear it.

With a deep swallow, she lowered her arms to gather the ridiculous amount of pale pink chiffon and tucked it into place.

“Very nice.” He swept his hot gaze over her, taking in her legs, her tummy, then settling at the apex of her thighs. The heat of his stare was like a physical caress on her skin.

Trying not to betray her nerves, she took a breath.

“The thong’s unexpected. In a nice way.”

Sasha much preferred panties or boy shorts that offered full coverage, but Leah had been very vocal, insisting her wedding pictures would not be ruined by panty lines.

“Now take it off.”

Heat flooding her face, she worked the material down her legs. Her hands trembled as she turned over the scrap of silk, the intimacy of the gesture making her feel exposed and vulnerable in a way she’d never experienced before.

“Good girl.”

His approval made the room spin.

“Smell it.”

The man offered no respite. Before she was finished being scandalized by one request, he made another. “What?”

“I want you to smell yourself.”

Wishing the floor would open up beneath her, she followed his command.

“Now tell me about the scent.”

In the distance the party raged, music reverberating off the walls. An occasional conversation or giggle from the hallway affirmed how absurd being in here with Gregorio was.

“I’m waiting.”

The musky, heady aroma made her body flame with embarrassment and desire. After momentarily squeezing her eyes shut, she replied. “It’s, ah…” She cleared her throat. “My arousal.”

“Mmm.” He nodded. “Is the material damp?”

You already know the answer.

Silently, he approached her, something that should have been impossible with a man as large as he was. But Gregorio had always been able to move with silent grace, a stealth that belied his size and strength.

And she’d seen him accomplish the impossible before.

“Now hold it to my nose.”

Ready to die from his demands, she followed his scandalous direction.

“Intoxicating, Petal.” He then plucked her thong from her and dropped it into his pocket. “I could mainline your scent and feed on it for days.”

Who the hell are you?

She’d known he was lethal, but she’d never seen this side of him before. His raw, primal sexuality weakened her knees and made her heart gallop.

“Now, put one hand on the wall next to you and use the other to spread your labia, holding yourself open to me.”

This time, she didn’t protest. She couldn’t, not when her body ached for his touch, taste, possession.

Right now, they both recognized the sway he held over her. She would do anything he wanted.

Once she’d complied, she remembered what he’d said earlier. Without being prompted, she spread her legs wide, made more difficult by her heels and the way her body wavered.

“You really are a good girl. My good girl.”

She was indecently exposed to the man who’d once been her brother-in-law, and she’d never wanted anything as much as she wanted him in this moment, never needed anything as much as she needed his approval, his praise, his possession.

“Now open your mouth.”

He claimed her lips, making it impossible to breathe. He plundered, taking before she offered, as if he had every right to do so.

Exactly the way it should be.

Burying the unwelcome thought in the darkest recesses of her mind, she closed her eyes and surrendered.

A moment later, he changed the tempo to make love to her with his tongue.

When her knees buckled, he was there for her, holding her wrist tight and keeping her steady. Then he slid a finger between her slick folds.

She gasped into his mouth at the sensation of his rough, calloused finger against her most sensitive flesh.

He pulled back long enough to gently nip at her earlobe and whisper, “You have such a beautiful little pussy.”

Instantly, he took her mouth again and toyed with her clit, igniting pleasure in the tiny bundle of nerves.

Her body went rigid as he stroked and circled and teased, driving her higher and higher.

Suddenly, an orgasm overtook her, more powerful than anything she’d ever experienced.

Bucking her hips, she sought even more as the waves crashed over her. She rode his hand, grinding against him, chasing the pleasure only he could offer.

If it hadn’t been for the way his tongue filled her mouth, she would have screamed aloud, as he’d known she would.

On and on he went, slipping a finger inside her, angling his wrist to find her G-spot.

Desperate for him, she lifted onto her tiptoes and rocked her hips, simulating sex. Her body wanted him to enter her, stretching her, filling her, completing her in a way no other man ever had.

Reading her as if they’d been together dozens of times before, he eased a second finger inside her channel, filling her, fucking her.

Her mouth and pussy were full of him, and the world began to spiral.

As if sensing her need, he pumped his fingers faster, harder, driving her toward the edge.

Gregorio pressed the heel of his palm against her clit and rubbed hard.

She was swimming in sensation and pleasure. In him.

Disobediently, she pulled her hand from between them and wrapped her arm around his neck, hanging on with desperation, praying the moment would never end.

How many years had she fantasized about this dark, enigmatic man who was more of a stranger than a brother-in-law? Someone she had probably never truly known, even though she thought she had.

Impossibly, he deepened the intensity by adding a third finger, spreading her wider, forcing her to accept his penetration.

The stretch, the fullness, the sheer presence of him overwhelmed her. But he was also perfect, everything she’d ever wanted.

God.

She was gone, surrendered in bliss.

A shocking, powerful climax rocked her.

Wave after wave of pleasure crashed over her, and she writhed, her pussy clenching him as she drenched his hand.

Only then, when she was shattered, did he release her mouth. “Yeah. My girl.”

Still dizzy, she opened her eyes, struggling to bring the world into focus.

Gregorio filled her vision and her senses. In this moment, he was her everything.

Taking his time, he withdrew his fingers, then held them to her mouth.

“Lick them. Taste yourself. Know that I did this to you…brought you this pleasure.”

His request was so sensual she almost came again. Her pussy tingled, craving more of him, all of him, in every way possible.

Part of her was shocked that she’d done what he said, but how could she deny him anything when he’d just given her everything?

Once his fingers were clean, he lowered his hand to pull down on her dress, sending the chiffon tumbling back into place.

She blinked.

Are we finished?

He leaned forward to kiss her lips. Tasting her orgasm?

With unbelievable slowness, he traced the plunging neckline of her dress, making her breasts throb with desire. Her nipples tightened, straining against the sheer fabric of her bra, begging for his attention.

For as satisfied as she was, he’d left her wanting and emotionally bereft.

He lowered her arm, and good thing he thought to do so because it seemed to be frozen in place.

Then, in a thoughtful gesture, he rubbed her shoulder, bringing sensation back into it.

“Ready to rejoin the party?”

What the hell had he just done to her? “Wait. I need my underwear back.”

“No chance.” Gregorio left her to unlock and open the door, then he checked the hallway in both directions.

When it was safe, he beckoned her.

On wobbly legs, her body still vibrating from the physical and emotional aftermath of what they’d shared, her mind reeling with the implications, she walked past him.

Possessively, Gregorio pressed his fingers against the base of her spine, his touch seeming to sear her even through the gown’s fabric as he guided her back toward the reception.

His simple touch, the small claim, made her heart squeeze with longing.

“Remember not to make mistakes with pretty boys.”

“So I can make bigger ones with dangerous men?”

His quick smile promised sin and salvation.

“Shall we?” He ushered her back into the ballroom.

Then moments later, his touch was gone.

She glanced over her shoulder, but he was nowhere to be seen…vanished into the crowd as if he’d never been there at all.

Stunned, she shook her head.

Gregorio had shown up unexpectedly, turned her life upside down, then disappeared as if the event in the janitor’s closet had meant nothing to him.

If it weren’t for the fact that her panties were missing, the ache between her thighs, the lingering taste of him on her tongue, and the ghost of his touch on her skin, she might have believed she’d made up the entire event.

How am I supposed to go back to my real life now?