Thrill Seeker (Sinful in Seattle Book 1) Read online

  The dark tablecloth was perfect for my laser projection keyboard. I flicked out the little kickstand at the back of my phone case and the Bluetooth adapter that let my long fingers use any surface as a keyboard. I’d modified it for one-handed use and replied to emails as I ate the garden salad one of the waitresses brought over with the other hand.

  Multi-tasking was necessary in my business. Chapel Enterprise was an innovator in commerce, design, and technology. I was the head of the technology department. The geek of the family as my brothers liked to put it.

  My department was ever changing and evolving. We never worked banker’s hours so having a bistro across the street worked on a number of levels. But this week was more harried than usual. Kennedy had gotten it into her head that the lab, as well as my office, needed a makeover that was going to set me back weeks.

  A glimpse of blue in my periphery dragged me out of my thoughts. Even if I didn’t get to have Georgia under me or over me, catching sight of her as she moved around the restaurant eased the tension living inside me like a virus. Nothing seemed to dissipate it.

  Watching every move Georgia made was my last-ditch effort.

  Dinner was exquisite as always. I finished the wine and changed over to coffee as the night grew later. Busboys and wait staff bustled around me. Georgia and her effortless ease with her clientele soothed me like a balm. Sweet and a little flirtatious with older couples, friendly and bubbling with questions for more familiar guests, and briskly efficient with junior executives who were on the make.

  It was fascinating to watch.

  I was usually done with my meal and out the door within an hour so I only got a taste of Georgia in hostess mode. Some would think it was an easy job, but she was part manager, part emissary, and more importantly, the face of Bellamy’s—even more so than the owner who glad-handed his way through the room twice a night.

  The elder Bellamy, Edgar, wasn’t quite ready to give up the restaurant life. He knew his role and played it to perfection. Georgia looked at him like an indulgent daughter then cleaned up after him. She made sure all his promises were kept and people returned to the restaurant again and again.

  I had every confidence that Georgia could run a Fortune 500 company all on her own and it only exacerbated my restlessness.

  I sent off a few more emails and tucked my phone back into my pocket. I nodded to her across the room, tucked money into the leather bill holder, and stood. She gave an older gentleman a friendly pat on the shoulder and met me at the doorway to the restaurant.

  “When you said you were going to stay and work, you weren’t kidding.”

  I sighed. “I miss my office. If it’s not finished tomorrow, I might go mad.”

  She smiled. “I have every confidence you’ll have it back.”

  “Only because my sister doesn’t want me snarling at her.”

  “Again?” Her eyes sparkled. “I bet ‘again’ should have been at the end of that statement.”

  I smiled down at her. “Know me so well, Miss Barrows?”

  Her gaze drifted down to my lips and she swiped her tongue over her own. I tamped down the need to drag her into the vestibule and tuck her into the corner where the wood paneling would hide us. To taste what she was unwittingly offering until we both couldn’t breathe and her scent was burned into my skin.

  “No. I don’t think I know you that well, Mr. Chapel.”

  “Max.”

  Her relieved smile transformed her face back to the genial hostess. “Goodnight, Mr. Chapel.”

  Dammit. “Goodnight.”

  I passed the bar and nodded to the charismatic bartender who played ringleader to the active, younger set that came in for drinks. Two waitresses who could have been mine with a nod slid their arms around each other.

  Both of them evidently.

  Why did it have to be Georgia who turned my crank?

  I shot through the door and across the street to my building. It was almost ten in the evening so the only floor lit up was mine. Between the renovations and my team, there was little sleep to be had on the eleventh floor.

  Passkey in hand, I waved through the front doors and passed security with an absent nod. The elevator opened immediately after I flashed my badge. A secondary panel lit up when I stepped inside.

  We were security-conscious about the technology end of Chapel Enterprise. I leaned forward for the retinal scan and the elevator glided to the eleventh floor.

  My crew was working around the plastic dropcloths, tucked into bean bag chairs, and sitting on the carpet. Loyal to the end. I didn’t have to threaten in my department. Everyone wanted to be there or they were gone. Simple logistics. I wanted Chapel to be synonymous with innovation, not an evil taskmaster.

  Some said I was an idiot, but none of them could deny the results.

  The cubicles were all glass. There were no secrets here. My office was at the back and the pinstripe-etched design on one of the glass walls made me smile. Kennedy understood my department.

  Unfortunately, she knew me far too well.

  “Fucking Batman,” I muttered. The huge, old school logo for the Batman comics was behind my head. A sticky note was in the middle of the bat.

  I thought Gotham fit your band of misfits.

  I looked around and saw other touches of the comic book, both old school and the newer designs in the glass. Small touches. Nothing overt.

  This was my playground and no one, not even the clients, came up here.

  I was glad to see the new gray carpeting was done in the offices and the outer area was almost finished. I could go back to normal tomorrow.

  My laptop was locked into a drawer for the evening and my briefcase full of notes and future projects was there, staring at me.

  I needed to go home. As much as I loathed to do it, I should take the papers home and work at my table until I was exhausted enough to fall into bed. Somehow I was pretty sure I was going to see dawn. I was far too revved up from the displacement, the needs crawling under my skin that were never quite answered, and Georgia.

  I hated that she was eighty percent of the buzz.

  She was unattainable.

  I could push. I might even get what I wanted, but the slim chance that she’d tell me to go to hell always stopped me.

  A little Georgia was better than none at all.

  With a growl, I grabbed my briefcase and strode back down the hall to the elevators. The ride down was interminable, and the street sounds annoyed instead of comforted.

  I loved this city. Loved our place in it.

  Tonight I would go back to the silence of the hills and quite possibly drink her out of my mind and start over tomorrow.

  I exited the elevator, crossed the lobby to the front door. We shared the parking garage across the street with the restaurant and few specialty shops on the corner. Seattle had grown faster than the streets could hold and the ever-present dampness made concrete the only viable option in city living.

  The night was quiet and helped to ease the tension living in my temples. I frowned at the parking attendant’s empty booth as I stepped up onto the sidewalk. It wasn’t unheard of for the late shift to be doing a walk-through of the structure, but that was usually after midnight.

  The soles of my shoes scraped over loose wet gravel and shards of glass. The hairs at the back of my neck spiked and my palms tingled. Just in case, I dipped my hand into my pocket for the all-purpose tool that I always had on me for taking apart various tech projects.

  I flicked back the handles until I felt the pointy edge of the small knife. It wouldn’t do much, but it was better than nothing.

  I was probably just overreacting. I pulled out my phone and cursed. The cinderblock parking structure left me with barely a bar of service. Seattle wasn’t exactly the mecca of crime, but it was like any big city.

  Shit happened.

  I picked up my pace. My BMW was dead ahead.

  A shriek echoed through the night. I spun around, my hand on my phone. No fu
cking service.

  “Just take my purse, please.”

  I took off for the corner of the parking garage. A large man with shoulders that belonged on a football field was standing over a woman.

  “Hey,” I called out.

  The man struggled harder and I heard the rip of material as I went from a cautious lope to a full-out jog.

  He pushed her to the ground and dark hair flowed around the woman’s shoulders. One strap of her top was ripped and her skirt was rucked up.

  Jesus, no.

  I was ten feet away and the floor fell out from under me. I knew that blue top, that dark hair. “Georgia,” I shouted.

  The man turned. He wore a dark coat, flipped up at the neck and a slouchy black hat pulled down low on his brow. He took off with her purse at a dead run.

  I couldn’t focus on anything but Georgia.

  I slid onto my knees and pulled her up. “Are you hurt?”

  Her hands shook and her vivid brown eyes were huge, the pupils a pinpoint in fear. Her fingers curled into my suit jacket as she hiccupped and buried her face in my chest.

  “Georgia.”

  She shook her head, her entire body trembling.

  “Please tell me he didn’t hurt you. Please,” I said hoarsely.

  Her lips brushed against my neck, her cheek rubbing against my shoulder as her arms went around me. “Just don’t let me go. Just for a minute. I’ll be okay in a minute.”

  “Did he hurt you?” I clenched my jaw. My fingers dug into her hip at an awkward angle. I was on my knees, crouching over her. Adrenaline blew out every one of my pores. I’d never been so close to her before. She was all softness and curves and smelled of tangerines. Her half-bared breast pressed into my chest.

  For the love of fuck, I had to get myself together. It was just the response to the situation. I tried to tell my rigid cock that and lean back at the same time.

  She was going to think I was some sort of pervert.

  I swallowed. “Your dress is ripped.”

  “No. No, he just wanted my purse. He tried to rip it off me and pulled on both straps. But his eyes.” Her hand shook. “He had such cold, dead eyes. I didn’t mean to react. I should have just let him have the purse. But-t-t it was all of my identification. All I could think is God, so much to cancel and take care of. S-s-o s-t-tupid.”

  Her teeth chattered against my neck and I tried to concentrate on comfort, not that it was just my silk dress shirt between her breast and my skin.

  I was a fucking bastard.

  “It’s all right now. Easy.” I rubbed her back, feeling her silky warm skin then the back of her top, and then more skin at the dip of her spine until I got to the edge of her skirt. I kept up the gentle touch, stroking up and down. I concentrated on comfort, not how she felt under my hand.

  Not the raging anger alive inside my chest that made me want to chase after the bastard who had scared her.

  But common sense prevailed. Beating on a heavy bag was not the same as fighting a man. The bag didn’t hit back, but a thief would.

  I tried to ease her away when she stopped shaking but she tightened her hold around my waist. Her nipple burned into my skin. “Just another minute.”

  I rested my chin against her temple. “Anything you need.”

  “Thank you, Max.”

  I groaned. Hopefully it was internally. Now she used my name? With her breasts flush against me, her strong hands holding me like I was her savior.

  Her hero.

  How the hell had I ended up here?

  The cold and the wet was seeping into my skin. I gathered her closer and stood. She swayed into me and I tried to angle my lower half to the side so she couldn’t tell just how hard I was.

  Her hand slid lower on my back. “Max, I—” She dragged her mouth against my neck. “I can’t settle. My fingers are numb. Everything feels numb.”

  “Shh, it’s okay. We were on a cold floor. Just let some of my body heat inside you.”

  Her lips brushed over my jugular. The flick of her tongue against my skin and the racing pulse there was dangerous. “I need...” She tugged up my shirt until she got to my flesh. “I can’t stop shaking.”

  I started to shrug out of my suit jacket and she stopped me.

  “No. Warmer this way.” She breathed against my neck, her body plastered against me.

  I wrapped my suit coat around her as much as possible. Her tangerine scent was branded into my head, filling my nose until it was all I could focus on. I expected her to smell muskier. Not so fresh. Not similar to the tart sweetness of citrus.

  I should have known better.

  When had Georgia Barrows ever fit the slots I tried to place her in?

  Her hand slid under my shirt and widened against the curve of my spine, then traveled higher. The low hum in the back of her throat rumbled through my chest and went straight to my dick.

  I was a dead man.

  She was going to know.

  She tipped her head back, those huge brown eyes full of something I couldn’t identify. Not fear. Not like before. There was a wildness there that echoed inside of me. I wanted to answer it.

  With every breath in my body, I wanted to answer it.

  Timing, son.

  The timing was so wrong.

  She slid one hand out from the back of my shirt to lay flat against my chest. At least we didn’t have skin to skin contact now. She curled her fingers into the buttons and up to my neck.

  She pulled me lower. “What’s wrong with me?” Her gaze bounced from my neck, to my mouth, to my eyes and repeated the loop until I was ready to beg for mercy. She licked her lips. “I can’t focus on anything but touching you.”

  “It’s the adrenaline talking.”

  “Is that what this is?”

  “Intense circumstances produce all sorts of hormones in the bloodstream.” I groaned as her lips buzzed along my neck. “It’s just a chemical reaction.”

  She pulled my shirt tighter until I had no choice but to lower my head and our lips lined up. Neither one of us moved any closer. At least not our mouths. The rest was another matter. “I want it. I like it. I’ve never felt anything like this.” She traced my lips with the pad of her finger. First my upper lip, tracing over the divot at the center then swiping across my lower lip until the tip grazed my teeth.

  She went up on her toes and flicked her tongue over my lower lip. All the while she watched. Her eyes were brutally honest. Open and guileless as she studied my reaction.

  Like I was a goddamn test subject.

  “If you go any further, I won’t be held accountable for my actions, Georgia. I’ve got just as much lust and adrenaline surging under my skin as you do. I watched him manhandle you. Touching what isn’t his.”

  “I’m not yours either.” The defiance in her eyes heated my blood. As if I didn’t want her enough to begin with. Now I had to see this side of her.

  The answering dark that lived in my heart.

  “Then why are you touching me like this?” I challenged.

  She tried to yank her fingers back, but I wouldn’t let her. I lifted her hand so I could swipe my tongue over the racing pulse at her wrist. I nipped at the fragile flesh then sipped along the delicate web of veins under her skin.

  “This, what you’re feeling between us, is the same thing that rescue workers, cops, and firefighters feel. When the danger is gone and only the adrenaline remains, what else are you supposed to do with it?” Her eyes widened as I lowered my mouth. “Tell me, Georgia.”

  Her breath came fast, her chest lifting and falling as if she’d run miles. “I don’t know. I’m not a rescue worker.”

  “No. You were almost a victim.”

  She gasped. “Not a victim.”

  “You were robbed and he violated you. He touched you.”

  She scrutinized my face, my mouth and neck, then returned to my eyes. Our gazes locked. Did she see my hate? My anger?

  Did she feel my need to brand?

  To tou
ch until she knew nothing but me?

  “Erase it.”

  Surely I’d heard wrong. She couldn’t know.

  “Erase him. Touch me. Fuck me, Max.”

  3

  Georgia

  Oh, God.

  Oh, God.

  What had I done?

  My body had gone haywire. I couldn’t breathe around the need and the firing jumble of emotions that were trying to break out of my skin.

  All I knew was that it ended with Max.

  Max, whom I’d wanted for so long. Max, who’d charged into the parking garage like an avenging angel with his black suit and glowing white shirt stuck to his flawless body.

  For me.

  He’d come for me.

  He gripped the back of my hair, holding my head still as he stared into me as if he intended to ferret out the secrets in my brain. There were no secrets. Just this. Just him touching me and reminding me that I was still alive.

  That I was fine.

  That I was wanted.

  That fire inside him. Those moments I’d seen at the restaurant were nothing compared to the man who was in front of me. Nothing at all.

  He lowered those last few precious inches until his mouth was on mine. Not sweet, not tender, not even close to the elegant man who sat in my restaurant night after night.

  No.

  This was raw. He sucked the length of my tongue into his mouth like he owned it. Owned me.

  The kiss was as dark as the parking garage we were in. The shaft of light from the overhead fixture didn’t illuminate him.

  It framed the darkness until he was a chiseled set of angles. His dark eyes were hooded and shadowed with a glimmer of something more. Something I didn’t want to identify, just wanted to experience.

  He pulled at the strap of my halter top until they both loosened and my breasts were bared to him. That light in his eyes, more candle flame than anything else, seemed to dance as he took me in.

  The devil?

  Or everything I never knew I wanted?

  My nipples tightened. They were too sensitive. I shied away from his touch. Everything seemed too big, too much. He’d come for me. He’d saved me.