Undercover Engagement by Samanthe Beck
Chapter Nineteen
Swain lassoed his wandering attention and reeled it around to the opposite side of a polished oak desk in the fussy rose-and-lilac office where Sarah Whelan gushed over the various wedding reception packages offered by the Riverview Inn. Eden, for her part, was doing the job like a pro, oohing and ahhing about linen choices, meal options, live band versus DJ, full host bar versus beer, wine, and champagne only.
He ought to get his head in the game and start grumbling about cost, but was his head in the game? Nope. His head was all the way back over on the edge of the county line, back to where he’d rented that cabin he’d yet to move into, wondering again how tough it would be to break the damn lease and find a place in Bluelick proper.
A place closer to Eden.
Because the assignment wasn’t going to last forever, despite his joke last night. If Dobie and Kenny didn’t take the bait tonight, Buchanan and Malone might give them another few days—a week, max—to try again, but after that, they’d pull the plug. Writing up misdemeanor possessions until somebody cracked wouldn’t get the ideal result, but it would get a better result than the nothing at all he and Eden had delivered thus far.
“Baby, you’re awfully quiet,” Eden said, aiming a pointed glance at him. She tapped a brochure on Mrs. Whelan’s desk. “What do you think about the Platinum Package?”
“What’s the cost on that package, ma’am?”
Sarah Whelan, with her neat cap of dark hair, beauty-pageant makeup, and slightly soft build smiled warmly. “It’s our premier package and offers the most customizable upgrades. Clients and guests are uniformly pleased with the results. ‘Worth every penny’ is a phrase we hear a lot.’”
“Yes, ma’am. I’m sure that’s true. But exactly how many pennies are we talking about?”
“Well.” Sarah sent Eden a reassuring smile and opened a brochure in front of him. “Here’s a summary of all that’s included, which I think you’ll agree encompasses everything you could wish for.” She ran the end of a pen down the lengthy listing. “Tables, chairs, linens, tableware, entertainment, flowers, food and beverage, event management to keep everything running smooth as silk. As I mentioned, some of the elements are customizable, so we provide a range for the cost, depending on which selections you make.” She sat back and beamed. “So, the ultimate cost is within your control. Spend more on what’s important to you. Go with our standard offerings for the items that don’t define the day as far as you’re concerned. And”—her gaze shifted to Eden—“please keep in mind, our standards are very high.”
“I’m sure they are,” he said, “but, again, if you could just give me an idea of the price range…”
“Of course.” She slid a fancy sheet of what he called resume paper toward him, which listed all the packages, and tapped her pen to the last entry. “Based on the number of guests Eden mentioned, this would be the range, but—”
“Holy shit.” He didn’t have any idea if the range listed was reasonable or exorbitant, but it mattered not at all, because his reaction wouldn’t change. He let his eyes widen and his mouth fall open. “Excuse my language. I-I apologize, ma’am.” He ran his palm over the back of his neck and shook his head. “We’ve been wasting your time.”
Eden grabbed his arm. “Wait. Just wait, baby.” To Mrs. Whelan, she said, “Can you please tell us about the discounts you mentioned earlier?”
“Yes, I was just getting to that.” She folded her hands together on her desk and smiled brightly. “Seeing as how Ms. Eden is a true hero around here and y’all are close with my boy Kenny, I can offer you the friends-and-family discount. That’s twenty-five percent off your grand total. An attractive deal, I think you’ll agree.”
“We do,” Eden said quickly. “And we can’t thank you enough. Can we?” She aimed an impatient look at him.
“Would you like me to prepare a contract?”
Time to tap the breaks. “I appreciate the discount, ma’am, but…choux, we gotta talk before we sign anything. There’s some serious figuring to do, and even then, I don’t see how we pull it off.”
Eden aimed pleading eyes at him. “This right here”—she waved the brochure—“is everything I ever dreamed of. Everything.”
He let out a long breath. “I know, choux. And I want you to have it.”
“Us,” she corrected and clasped his hand in both of hers, putting her sprained wrist on display in the process. “I want us to have it.”
Damn, she’d gotten good at this. “I want us to have it, too, but this is a stretch. A big one. I have to find a chunk of money, and I’m not sure where it’s going to come from.”
“Where there’s a will, there’s a way.” She smiled up at him. “I just know you’ll find it.” To Sarah, she said, “Go ahead and print us up a contract. That way,” she went on, deliberately cutting off his objection, “we’ll have all the information in front of us while we do our figuring.”
Mrs. Whelan nodded. “That’s a wise idea.” She winked at him. “This bride of yours is smart and brave and pretty as a picture. You’re a lucky fellow.”
“Yeah.” He offered her a smile. “That is a fact.”
“It’s going to take me some time to prepare the contract. Go ahead and stroll around a bit more to get a real feel for the property. In fact, if you speak to Randi at the reception desk, she’ll give you the key to the honeymoon suite if you’d like to have a look. I’ll track you down when I have everything ready. Maybe ten minutes or so?”
“Thanks,” Eden said as she stood. She ran a hand down the short, flowy skirt of her pretty white sundress and turned to him, smiling. “C’mon, baby. Let’s go check out the honeymoon suite.”
They were playing him, ruthlessly, and on behalf of men everywhere, he ought to object on philosophical grounds, but he had to admire the technique. Did any reluctant groom actually manage to say no to the Riverview Inn after being offered an “exclusive” discount and a preview of wedding-night adventures in the honeymoon suite?
He followed, docile as a therapy pony, while Eden crossed the gracious, dark wood and gleaming brass lobby to talk the key out of reception-desk Randi. A short ride in the gate-front elevator to the third floor, a lazy walk down a narrow hallway, and they arrived at their destination. Eden raised a brow at him as she turned the old-fashioned key in the ornate lock. “Just a quick peek, in case there’s a quiz later.”
“Hold on, now. Let’s do this right.” Without further warning, he swept her into his arms, bounced her once while she cried “Swain!” and then carried her over the threshold. After kicking the door shut behind him, he walked deeper into the room. “I heard ten minutes.” He let go of her legs and placed her on her white sandaled feet. “That ought to be just enough time for the obligatory oh-baby-anything-you-want blow job.”
She laughed. “You hopeless romantic, you.” Smoothing her skirt, she turned and took in the room—which was, in his opinion, a tasteful mix of antique and modern. Respectably erotic, with its big, old four-poster bed covered in clouds of white bedding; curvy cheval mirror nearby, offering lots of interesting angles for viewing possibilities; and wide French doors leading to a wrought iron balcony overlooking the Ohio River—in case one felt outdoorsy at any point. Despite all the allure of the appointments, Eden was, by far, the most erotic thing in the room. He watched as she crossed the suite and placed her sort of baskety-looking shoulder bag on the bed. From there she wandered to the French doors, opened them, and stepped out onto the balcony. The sheer, figure-skimming dress showed off the graceful lines of her body. The skirt danced around her thighs, leaving her slender legs endless and bare.
A beach. A white sand beach, showered in sunshine, sloping to a calm blue-green sea that stretches to the horizon. Jamaican honeymoon following the Platinum Package.
And…whoa. Where the hell had that thought come from? Never mind that he could practically feel the warm sand between his toes, smell the tropical flowers.
She glanced over her shoulder at him. Her look said, What’s up?
Hewas. Suddenly and painfully. She turned away to take in the view, giving him her back—her long hair cascading in soft waves past her shoulders, her narrow waist, the weightless skirt catching the mild breeze and flirting with decency, the sliver of space between her thighs visible through the thin fabric.
Something primitive inside him took the helm and steered him the few steps to the balcony. She looked over her shoulder again, a smile ready, but then her eyes widened. “Seriously?”
He lifted her skirt and accepted the quick stutter of his heart at the sight of the lacy white thong before he tangled fingers in it and tugged. The lace slid down, down, down her legs to dangle around her high-heeled sandals.
Her head tipped back to rest against his chest. “I thought it was an obligatory blow job?”
He ran his palm up the back of her leg, over her ass, around her hip to come to a rest along the inside of her thigh. “Nothing’s obligatory,” he said and kissed the side of her neck. “But if the choice is mine, I choose this.” He cupped her center, grateful to find her already wet for him.
She inhaled quickly and let the breath out slowly. “Someone might see…”
“From the river? That’s yards away. Three hundred. Five hundred.” He pressed his fly against her ass, hoping for skin against skin. Soon.
“We…oh, God, Swain…” She digressed when he pushed the tip of his middle finger inside her in the subtlest of penetrations. “We only have ten minutes.”
“Five,” he gasped and released her to fumble with his belt, his fly. Freeing his greedy cock, he pressed up on her again. “We’ll only need five. At most. Bend over, choux, just a little…just a little more…
Their sighs merged as he slid into her. He wrapped his arm around her waist and eased her slightly more upright. Looking down, he saw that cocktease of a skirt bunched up between them, watched it flutter as he bent his knees and lifted her with his thrust. She wrapped a hand around the iron rail and parted her legs as far as the fragile shackle of the panties around her ankles would allow. “Maybe just three, for me,” she panted and squeezed his cock with interior muscles. “But you take five if you need them.”
“Three works.” He snuck his hand around front again, eased it between her legs, and cupped her where they joined. Pressing her firmly against him, moving them both, he thrust, and thrust again, and thrust once more through her choppy whimpers and the fluttering caresses of her impending climax. “Fuck,” he groaned as those flutters drained an orgasm from him before a long, breathy sigh of relief poured out of her. Awash in that sound, he rested his forehead along the curve where her neck met her shoulder. “Fuck, that was…not even two minutes.” He nuzzled her neck and kissed her temple. “I owe you three more minutes.”
Laughing, she reached around and squeezed his ass. “I’ll collect at a later date.” Her words ended in a little moan as he pulled out.
“Don’t move.” He dropped another kiss on her shoulder, yanked his pants up, and hurried to the bathroom. Grabbing a fluffy white hand towel, he returned to find her leaning over, good hand holding the railing for balance while she untangled her panties from the straps of her sandals.
Kneeling behind her, he slipped the towel between her legs, moving it back and forth slowly. She froze. Her eyelids blinked slowly closed. “Swain. What are you doing to me?”
“Can’t have you blaming me for ruining this dress.” He used his face to nudge her skirt aside and kissed the warm, smooth ass cheek he’d bared. “Give me three minutes.”
“Oh, jeez. Okay.”
Three minutes later, he deposited one last kiss over the damp, red mark on her buttock where he’d kissed, bit, and licked to his heart’s content while she’d grinded out another orgasm for him with the help of the Riverview Inn’s finest cotton towels.
He hiked up her thong and fitted it into place as she caught her breath. Finally, she straightened and turned. Blotting her forehead with her forearm, she stared at him. “What brought that on?”
You. Everything about you. I can’t get enough of you. He forced his lips into a grin. “Why let the honeymoon suite go to waste?”
She smiled back at him and fanned her dewy cheeks with her hand. “Why, indeed?”
He folded the hand towel in half, then rolled it tight. She approached him, slid past, and retrieved her purse from the bed, then frowned as he put the towel in her purse. “What are you doing?”
“I’m taking it. Souvenir of our honeymoon.”
“You’re stealing the towel, Deputy Swain?”
“Technically, Officer Brixton, you’re stealing the towel. But yeah.” He took her chin, tipped her face up, and kissed her lips. Against them, he said, “I’m keeping it.”
She laughed and shook her head. “Lord, you really can’t be trusted.”
Well, shit.
He held the door to the suite open for her. “Choux, you can trust me with the important things.”
She patted his cheek as she walked out. “When it comes to a five-minute orgasm, there’s nobody I trust more.”
Okay. This was going to require more work. He let the door shut behind him, then took her hand and kissed it. “That was two orgasms in five minutes, as long as we’re counting.”