Mine to Hold (Mine 3)

At eight p.m., Noah walked into Claire’s temporary D.C. office. They’d been in meetings all day. Talking with contractors, working with marketing staff. They’d barely stopped for lunch.

Claire had surprised him. He’d known that she was smart. After all, the woman had graduated at the top of her class, but she was also damn savvy when it came to the inner workings of the hotel business. And the woman sure had a gift for tact.

Noah wasn’t always so tactful. When he’d been ready to tear into the contractors, Claire had carefully interceded. Charmed.

She was sure charming him.

She was also not even aware that he was in the room with her. Claire was crouched over the laptop that he’d given her earlier, her fingers tapping furiously across the keys.

It was rare that a woman could ignore him.

But then, Claire was a very rare woman.

So he just crossed his arms over his chest and watched her. A small furrow was between her brows—a sign of her focus, he was certain. Her cheeks were pale, her lips bare of color. But Claire didn’t need makeup to shine. She was already so close to perfect that he ached just looking at her.

I don’t have lovers… I don’t have one now. I haven’t had one in nine years.

He’d taken that revelation like a punch to the gut. Claire truly was made for pleasure, and by locking herself off from the world, she was just giving that SOB Ethan Harrison more power over her.

Claire deserved pleasure. Noah was going to see that she got it.

Claire glanced up then. She saw him—and jumped.

“Sorry,” Noah murmured as he straightened. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

Claire surged to her feet. “Then you shouldn’t skulk in doorways.”

Skulk? He smiled at her. “You looked focused. I was waiting for the right time to interrupt.”

Her eyes narrowed, and he knew she was trying to decide if she believed his story or not.

Since it was a lie, he let his smile stretch a bit more. He hadn’t announced his presence because he’d just enjoyed watching her. “You need to wrap things up for the night.”

She pushed back her hair. “Ah, right…just give me—”

“We’re going out for dinner,” Noah added. Then, so she wouldn’t be so nervous, he said, “I want to check out the competition in town.” He’d just bought one of the historic hotels in D.C.—the hotel they were inside of right then. His crew was updating the hotel’s interior, while still working to keep the ambiance and the character that the clientele would love. He wanted to add a roof-top restaurant to the hotel, though. A new place that would be the talk of the town. He already had a celebrity chef lined up for the new venue.

So while he didn’t technically need to check out the competition, he did want to take Claire to dinner.

Their first date. Even if she didn’t know it.

Claire nodded. “I’ll change and meet you in the lobby.”

Sounded like one fine plan to him. He wondered what the odds were that she’d put on the sleek, black dress that had been purchased for her. One that dipped low in the back and would reveal Claire’s long legs.

She approached him slowly. Cautiously.

Noah realized that he was blocking the door.

If he didn’t move, Claire would have to brush against him as she passed.

I want her to get used to my touch.

He also wanted her to make the next move.

He slid to the side.

But Claire…she still brushed against him as she passed.

That’s it, Claire. Touch me. Do it all you want.

He turned, watching her as she left the little office. Hell, yes. Claire had been made for pleasure.

And soon, he’d give her so much pleasure that she screamed.

***

Noah was in the lobby, talking with the hotel manager, when the elevator doors slid open and Claire walked out.

She was wearing the black dress. It clung to every curve that she had.

And her legs…sweet hell, her legs seemed to go on forever. Her feet were clad in high, black heels. Fuck-me heels.

She’d put on lipstick. Slid color on her cheeks. Pulled her hair back into a little twist.

She also had black ribbon tied around her wrists. Sexy, silky ribbon that made Noah think of Claire…

Tied to his bed.

“Ah, Mr. York?” The manager, Chuck Collins, cleared his throat. “You were, um, you were telling me about the construction upstairs—”

He couldn’t remember a damn thing that he’d been saying to Chuck. “Carry on with your work.” He nodded curtly to the guy.

“But Mr. York—”

Noah stalked toward Claire. The woman looked good enough to eat. How was he supposed to keep his hands off her?

She put her hands in front of her dress. At that angle, it almost looked as if her wrists were bound together with the ribbon.

Noah swallowed. The woman had no clue what she was doing to him.

“Sorry it took so long,” Claire told him with a slightly nervous edge in her voice. “I had to, um…improvise a few things.”

He reached for her hand. Noah had to do it. That ribbon was driving him insane. How could something so simple be so sexy?

He lifted her hand. Turned her wrist and realized—

She’s not wearing this to be sexy. She’s using the ribbon to hide her scars.

“I improvise if I wear something without sleeves,” Claire said, her voice so low it was almost a whisper. “It’s just…people might ask questions, and I didn’t want to embarrass you.”

A growl rumbled in his throat. “You would never embarrass me.” He didn’t let her hand go. He knew exactly how Claire had gotten those scars on her wrists. His Claire had broken once.

Because of Ethan Harrison.

Noah would make sure that she never broke again.

Her lips started to curl. He waited for her smile to come. For her dimples to flash. He—

“Claire Kramer!” The snarl cut across the hotel’s lobby. The tall, arching ceiling in the historic hotel seemed to make the cry echo all around the space.

Noah turned at the cry, frowning at the fury he heard in those words.

An older man had just entered the lobby. His gray hair had thinned, his shoulders hunched, but a feverish intensity lit his eyes. Eyes that were locked on Claire.

“I’d know you anywhere,” the man snapped.

He advanced on Claire.

The hell, no.

Noah stepped in front of Claire even as he heard her gasp behind him.

“Mr. Harrison, no!” This cry came from the man who was hurrying to grab the older guy’s arm. A brown-haired fellow wearing a three piece suit. Probably in his late twenties, with one of those All-American faces.

But Harrison shook off the man’s hold. “You damn bitch!” He yelled at Claire. “You should be in prison! Not my boy! You should be—”

“You need to close your mouth,” Noah said, his own voice lethally soft. “Before I close it for you.” His hands were clenched, and he wanted to drive his fist into the old man’s jaw.

He knew he was looking at ex-Senator Colby Harrison. He’d seen photos of the guy, but those photos had been during the man’s time in office. Harrison hadn’t aged so well. Age spots and thick lines marked his face, and the stench of booze clung to the man.

Colby Harrison wasn’t a D.C. power player any longer. This jerk was about to find his ass kicked into the street.

“I’m sorry,” the man with Harrison muttered. “He got a call that she was here, and I couldn’t stop him—”

Harrison made a mistake then. He tried to lunge around Noah and actually touch Claire.

Huge mistake.