50 Hidden Desires Read online

  “Seriously?” Dalton sobered, hardly able to believe Holly had attempted going out with a guy who A) worked for the Larsons and B) turned dorky into an art form.

  “Yeah, but he was smart enough to back off.” Jace grinned like he was taking credit and then left for the other side of the patio.

  Dalton turned to tell Holly he agreed that her brother was an idiot, but she wasn’t smiling. In fact, her sadness seemed to have returned tenfold.

  “You were saying?” Dalton said.

  “Oh. It was nothing.” But the way she looked at her shoes didn’t look like nothing. “I’ll catch up with you later.” She backed a few steps away. “I should say hi to Aaron. And you should”—she shooed in the direction of the girls, now being joined by Jace—“do whatever it is you do.”

  Her sad smile paired with a swivel on one heel. Dalton watched those gold glittery hips sway, leaving him to wonder what she’d left unsaid.

  Chapter 3

  IF HOLLY STRIPPED off her clothes and cannonballed into the pool, she swore she wouldn’t turn Dalton’s head. The brunette across the patio was still sending him a “come and get me” look, making Holly regret walking away and giving the other woman a chance.

  She pulled in a mouthful of champagne and scanned the room. Her eyes returned to Dalton Thomas like she was equipped with a damn homing device. He stood there, clueless and gorgeous next to her brother, wearing a smile for the brunette. Holly faced the other side of the patio instead, unable to watch Dalton flirt with the woman who was now twirling her hair. Ugh.

  Ever since Holly was a teenager, she’d been in love with one guy. A guy who couldn’t see her as more than Jace’s little sister. Pain ate a hole in her heart like acid.

  He looked as good in a T-shirt and denim as he did in a suit. And in a tux? Forget it. Devastating. Since her parents threw a charity event every year, she’d had the opportunity to see him in one several times. And because the heated pool kept them swimming even when the weather was slightly out of season, Holly had also had the privilege to witness Dalton without a shirt.

  That was when he looked best. All rippling abs and broad chest. And no one could beat that smile. Not when it was buried under a day’s worth of whiskers, or when the flash of his straight white teeth gave way to a laugh that tumbled through her like electricity before a storm.

  She had it so bad.

  Hence the attempt with Aaron the Super Nerd. Sure, not her brightest move to attempt a steamy car make-out session with the Larson finance guy, but in her defense, she was eager to cross item number one off what she was calling “The Lust List.”

  As of now, there were only three things on the list, the third being super-hot, sweaty, beautiful sex, but the three items she’d written down were enough to break any girl out of her life rut. The problem? There was only person she wanted…and she suspected he was the only one who would satisfy her.

  And he was currently charming a woman who was not her.

  Sigh.

  “Ah, perfect.” She flagged down a waiter, taking a full champagne flute from his tray as she chugged down the rest of hers. Her liquid courage had allowed her to start to proposition Dalton, but then she hadn’t been able to follow through.

  Well, screw that. She was following through. Tonight. As soon as she found the will to look into his paralyzingly gorgeous blue eyes and ask the question she’d tripped over in her mind at least a dozen times a day.

  Dalton Thomas, would you do me the honor of being my temporary sex slave?

  Or something like that. Saying anything resembling getting naked and horizontal with him was going to require a lot more alcohol. She drank down her refill, pausing for a less-than-ladylike burp and smiling demurely at a passing guest.

  She backed toward the kitchen, opting to snag a few tapas from the counter. Putting something in her stomach other than champagne wasn’t the worst idea she’d had. She may need liquid courage, but she didn’t want to be completely sauced when she approached him. She wanted him to take her seriously.

  As she took her third backward step, two warm hands grasped her waist to steady her.

  “Hey now,” came a low timbre so familiar her teeth ached. Eyes closed, she turned slowly. Dalton’s hands remained loose, skimming along her waist. Torture. “Where are you rushing off to?”

  “Dalton,” she started, her tongue going dry and sticking to the roof of her mouth. “You’re not over there anymore.”

  His eyes flicked across the patio and then back down to her. “Nah. I went over to say hi. Didn’t want to be rude, but I’d rather hang with you.”

  He would? She swallowed, her throat thick. Now was her chance. He wanted to spend time with her.

  “Do you…want to…um…”

  One eyebrow cocked, he waited for her to finish.

  Curl my toes?…Draw me like one of your French girls?…Take me to pound town?

  God. Say something! Anything! But she couldn’t. She’d gone mute and now she was imagining all the ways he could tell her no. And no wasn’t an option.

  “Do I what?” he asked, interrupting the panic in her brain.

  “Do you…want to join me in the kitchen?” Lame. Super lame.

  “Hell yes.” His hands left her waist and covered his own stomach. “I’m starving.”

  “You’re always starving,” she mumbled, her courage wilting.

  “True story.” He walked with her, still clueless. Still gorgeous. Still seeing her as Jace’s asexual younger sibling.

  Damn.

  The catering staff had left trays of cheese and finger foods as well as quite a few half-empty champagne bottles. Jace had been palming the caterers money to leave the “mess,” but in all actuality, he was saving the “mess” for their after-party.

  Since then, her brother had vanished with the tray of crab puffs, a half-empty bottle of Moët, and the redhead he’d been schmoozing all evening.

  “What was her name?” Holly asked, tipping the champagne and drinking directly from the bottle. “The girl Jace took off with? He sort of mumbled it.”

  Holly had given up her tall shoes and was now sitting on the sparkling tile floor in the massive kitchen, Dalton by her side. He had one leg bent, one wrist resting on his knee, and his collar was open, revealing his bitable neck.

  Yum.

  And here she sat, too chicken to ask him if he’d like to take her home tonight.

  “You want to know what I need, Hol?” Dalton asked instead of answering her. He accepted the bottle of champagne. She watched his lips meet the bottle, wishing that pucker was for her. Hoping his next words would be You, right now, on this floor.

  “What’s that?” she asked, her voice reed-thin.

  “Nothing.”

  “Nothing?” The word stabbed her in the chest, the end of the “g” snagging her heart like a hook. Especially since she wanted something so bad she couldn’t see straight—and he was sitting directly next to her.

  “I have it all.” Dalton licked a drop of champagne off his top lip and handed over the bottle, a satisfied smile on his face. His broad chest expanded with a breath. “I have friends, a great job. I have you guys.”

  You guys. The collective Larsons. Would he ever see her as separate?

  “Your family’s awesome.” He confirmed her assumption. “A little creepy in a Stepford way, but overall, awesome.”

  After another drink, Holly frowned. “I’m not a Stepford.”

  “You’re not. I’m kidding. You know I love you guys.”

  Wow. That hurt. All he had to do was add a teasing jaw-punch and she’d go ahead and curl up on this floor and sleep here tonight. Being rejected before she had a chance to ask was demoralizing.

  “What about girls?” she forced herself to ask, knowing she’d never forgive herself if she didn’t.

  “I like girls.” Dalton chuckled, the low tumbling sound rocking her insides. “Girls like that brunette and her friend, whose name was Bette by the way, are fun for a few hours. Noth
ing wrong with a few hours of fun, but the most important things in life are family and friends. A future you can count on. No offense, but girls are a pain in the ass.”

  Worse than the jaw-punch came the elbow-jab.

  Yep. She might as well finish the champagne and pass out on the kitchen floor. At least she’d be close to the coffee pot come morning.

  “Not all girls.” She pulled on her heeled shoes and stood. “I should probably go.”

  “Hey, I didn’t mean—sorry.” Dalton stood next to her and plunged his hands into his front pockets. “Easy to forget you’re one of ’em.”

  Oh yeah, this kept getting better and better.

  “Well. Congrats again,” she said. “Thanks for hanging out with me.”

  “Anytime, Hol. I should get going, too. I have a busy weekend.” He ate one more croissant-wrapped cocktail wiener off a silver tray before heading for the exit.

  “Me, too,” she lied. Maybe she’d reorganize her books. Sort them by spine color instead of alphabetical. Big, big plans this weekend.

  “You good to drive?” he asked, hand on the doorframe.

  “Sober as a nun,” she answered. He waved and left while she stood in the kitchen listening to his car engine turn over.

  Sober as a nun and every bit as adventurous, she thought with a sigh. Now that he’d gone, there wasn’t any reason for her to go anywhere. She found another bottle half-full of champagne, slid down the wall, and reclaimed her seat on the floor.

  Chapter 4

  THE ALARM ON Dalton’s phone pinged, and he looked up from the plans for the Brownsboro District. His meeting in Holly’s office was in five minutes.

  He packed up the papers and shoved his phone into his pants pocket. He was so damn proud of her for moving up the ranks to this position. Despite what everyone thought, she’d earned her way here. He knew it better than most, since he’d earned his slot right alongside her. This would be their first project together.

  Working with her would be more fun than working with her dad. Clark may be a hell of a guy at a party, but he kept his nose down and his mind on business when he was here. With Holly, Dalton could relax. He didn’t have to sweat over screwing up every thirty-five seconds. He’d like to have this position for a good long while.

  Until retirement would be nice.

  “Come in!” she called through the door after he knocked lightly. He popped it open to find her standing behind her desk in a simple black skirt and white blouse. Her blond hair was in a knot at the back of her head, a curl falling over one eye. She looked professional, and since he was a red-blooded male with functioning eyesight—hot.

  “A departure from your usual, but I like the outfit.”

  “Usual?” She blinked long lashes at him, her mouth forming a tempting O.

  “No sparkles.”

  “Ah. Well.” Her glossed lips parted into a smile and she stepped out from behind her desk. At the end of her long, bare legs were a pair of high heels, shiny pink matching her mouth.

  God in heaven.

  “I stand corrected.” His voice was laced with gravel. And misplaced lust. He cleared his throat and refocused. “Okay, so. The plans you asked for.” He unrolled the drawings on her desk, aware of her slinking over to him. Had she ever walked toward him in a slink?

  “I need to talk to you,” Holly said, her voice hard. He looked up to find her mouth a firm, flat line. “Sit.”

  “Sit?”

  “Please.”

  He palmed a chair on the guest side of her desk, his hand sweating. This situation had felt off since he’d stepped in here. The air crackled with a weird sort of tension.

  “No, wait. Don’t sit.”

  “Oh-kay.” He let go of the chair.

  “Wait. Do sit. But…” She pointed at the couch against the far wall. “Over there.”

  “Holly. What’s going on?”

  “Please, Dalton.” Her teeth stabbed her shining lips and he sucked in a deep breath. She shut her office door, crossed the room, and sat on the couch. He joined her, sitting on the end, his forearm on the armrest. Holly sat forward, her hands folded in her lap, her gaze straight ahead.

  “Dalton.” She cleared her throat. Rethreaded her hands. “There’s something I need to talk to you about and it’s important and I don’t want you to say anything until I’m done speaking.”

  Wow. Formal. What gives?

  He sat straight and wiped his palms on his legs and down again, nervous and not understanding why. This was Holly. She wasn’t going to fire him, for God’s sake.

  He hoped.

  “Let’s hear it,” he said through clenched teeth.

  “I’m a new me. The promotion, the apartment, the separation I needed so badly from my family. I love being a Larson.” She finally faced him. “I love my family, my brother. I love working here.”

  He felt his brow crinkle in confusion, but she’d asked him not to interrupt so he didn’t.

  “So. I’ve decided to shed my inhibitions this year and actually have a love life. I’ve earned it. I want to experience really hot sex, the kind that curls my toes and makes me forget my name.”

  “Holly, for Christ’s sake.” He couldn’t listen to her say things like that, especially while she was decked in a tight skirt and silky shirt. His cock jerked to life and he had a silent argument with it.

  “No interrupting.” Her lips pursed. “I’ve decided I’m going to have it this month. And I’ve decided I want to have it with you.”

  She…what now? He blinked, dazed.

  From a very dry throat, he spoke. “You want to have what with me?”

  “Really hot, dirty sex that makes me forget my name.”

  “Holly!” He bolted off the couch and moved away from her like she’d caught fire. He sure as shit felt like he had. Right now there was an inferno in his chest leaching to his limbs and one part of him in particular residing below his belt buckle.

  “You know what you’re doing. I don’t. You’re my best bet.” Holly shot off the couch, sending her breasts moving against the soft material of her blouse. He noticed. He shouldn’t have noticed.

  “No.” He cut the air with a karate chop. “We’re not—you’d better be kidding.” He paired an eyebrow raise with a finger-point and tried to look intimidating.

  Didn’t work.

  “Why not?” She took another step toward him while he stepped away again. “You’re good at it, if I believe all the bragging you’ve done to Jace over the years. And I’m single. I’m attractive.”

  “Sweetheart, you’re gorgeous,” he agreed before he could stop himself. The issue was not whether she was good-looking. “The answer’s still no.”

  “Then why not?” she asked, her voice quieter than before. Ah, shit. Now he hurt her feelings?

  “Because.”

  “Don’t say Jace.” She grimaced.

  “Your brother is my best friend and has a hell of a right hook, Hol, but I’m not saying no because of him. Look around. We work together. I value my job.” And he enjoyed not being a eunuch.

  “I can be like that brunette at the party.”

  “No, actually, you can’t.”

  That girl wasn’t like Holly. She was…well, she was predatory. Though right now, Holly seemed predatory herself.

  As if to prove it, Holly took a bold step toward him. He matched it with a retreating one of his own.

  “You said she’d be fun for a few hours. I can be fun for a few hours. Think of me like one of those girls.”

  “No, Holly…” He swiped his hand over his face. He hadn’t meant for her to take the way he’d blown off the brunette as gospel. First off, he’d barely meant it. It’d been a crass and a roundabout way of stating the truth: He wasn’t settling down anytime soon.

  Holly opened her mouth and he held up a hand to keep her from speaking. To his shock, it worked.

  “I value you.” He came a step closer to her, his libido stretching out to mingle with her scent and wide, innocent eyes
that were way less innocent than they were thirty seconds ago. “You’re precious, Holly. You deserve the best.”

  “Precious.” Her lip curled like he’d insulted her. “I’m the ring to your Gollum?”

  God. She was cute.

  “You know what I mean.” He smiled. “You’re the type of girl who should be cherished. Protected. Not”—he gestured at her generally—“taken advantage of.”

  With a little pout, she asked, “You wouldn’t take advantage of me?”

  “No,” he agreed.

  She put her hand on his on his heart and slid her fingernails over the placket of his shirt. His skin prickled with awareness. “I trust you.”

  He didn’t realize he’d leaned in until she tipped her chin and found his lips very close to hers. Sweet mint rolled off her breath.

  “I haven’t had a man in my bed who’s been able to satisfy me, but I bet you would. Please, Dalton?”

  Eyes glued to her parted lips, his gut tightened into a knot. Every ounce of him wanted to lean forward and kiss her, thrusting his tongue against hers in a warm, wet tangle.

  “Oh, my,” she gasped, her slim eyebrows hitching. He sucked in a breath of shock at the feel of her fingers sliding down his stomach and hooking his belt loop.

  His hand shot out to capture her wrist. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

  She raised an eyebrow, her eyes still downcast and focused on the part of him that hadn’t received the memo that his answer was no. With his other hand, he tipped her chin.

  She closed her eyes. Moved in on him.

  Then he came to his senses.

  He was in Holly Larson’s office. In Larson Land Management, better known as his place of employment.

  And this was his best friend’s goddamn sister.

  With superhuman willpower, he managed to let her go and not taste her willing mouth. “Holly.”

  His voice came out hoarse, so he cleared his throat. One look into her rounded, pleading eyes told him she was serious, and that seriously freaked him out.

  “I, uh…I have to go.” He snagged the plans from her desk while trying to make sense of what just happened. Without turning, he waved the plans as he exited and promised Holly, “You can review these at the job site.”