But after a few days of hanging with Keaton along with the rest of the group, it was clear women were drawn to him. Not a surprise. Women were drawn to all the rugged, sexy Renegades. But according to the stories, the women who flocked to Keaton were all at the extreme end of the rough, risqué, and wild scales. The Renegades joked that the women Keaton had dripping off every limb were every man’s fantasy—ridiculously hot, overtly willing, and eager to be wickedly naughty.
The real surprise had been learning Keaton had been wanting Brooke, little Miss Vanilla, the same way she’d been wanting him.
The door closed behind them, and Brooke rolled her head on his shoulder to press her lips to his neck. Tonight, vanilla was going to blend with rich
, exotically spiced rum from some remote corner of the world where women like her rarely tread.
“I think this is bigger than my place in LA.” His voice vibrated beneath her lips, and his view of the suite made her smile. She always left a light on somewhere in her hotel rooms, because she never knew what time she’d be back. This morning, she’d left on a small side table lamp, which was barely enough to throw a shadow.
“Probably costs as much for a night as you pay for a month,” she said.
“Why?”
She laughed, knowing he was asking why anyone would need to stay somewhere so extravagant, not why it was so expensive. And she loved the way he didn’t dwell on what just happened in the elevator. She hated men who were so insecure, they had to constantly check in for reassurance on their performance. Or worse, gloat over it.
She glanced over the living area, complete with a dining table and four chairs, a sectional sofa big enough to seat six, and a sixty-inch flat screen covering the wall over the fireplace. “Because this is where the high-maintenance stay. You have to pay people well to put up with annoying eccentricities.”
“Well then, you…” He eased her to her feet, slid his hands up her back, under her hair, and cupped her head, “should stay everywhere free, because I’ve never met anyone easier to be around.”
And he kissed her. “Can’t believe how lucky I was to find you here.”
And kissed her. “You’re so beautiful.”
And kissed her. “God, I love your mouth.”
He made her feel like she was floating. Made her mind disconnect from everything but him. And with all the stress and turmoil in her life, that was the biggest gift anyone could give her right now.
When he pulled back again, she said, “Good. Because this mouth is going to be all over your body in about sixty—”
He growled and kissed her again, licking into her mouth with a strong, skilled, hot, playful tongue she couldn’t help but want between her legs.
Inch by inch, he pulled her skirt into his hands, until his palms found her bare ass. He gripped her with both hands, and her skin tingled and heated beneath his fingers. A fresh wave of desire flooded her sex. His hard erection and rough jeans rubbed against her sensitive spots, covered in nothing but a thin layer of rayon.
She definitely needed to get him out of his clothes.
Pulling out of the kiss, she dragged at his shirt. “Naked, Holt. Now.”
He laughed and let the shirt slide off his shoulders, over his head.
She leaned in to press her mouth to his chest, but paused and pulled back, looking at all the ridges over his abdomen. She’d seen him in swim trunks at least a dozen or more times in the weeks they’d been in California together. When he wasn’t working, he seemed to live in them, but she’d given up hope of ever getting the chance to touch them or kiss them or lick them.
So she started by skimming her hands over his abdomen and experienced the unique sensation of warm skin over steely muscle…
Swoon.
God, she never swooned.
Over anything.
Or anyone.
After so many years in the music industry, it took a lot to impress Brooke. And Keaton knocked her for a loop in so many unexpected ways, she’d lost count.
His hands had found their way under her dress again, and stroked everywhere he could reach. His lips and tongue laid hot trails down her neck and across her chest as he stepped her backward until her thighs pressed the arm of the sofa.
With his hands at her waist, he leaned her backward over the arm.
“Keaton…” She laughed his name, clinging to his arms, but that didn’t keep him from laying her back.