Devoted (The Recovery Series, #3) by JC Harroway

Author:JC Harroway
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Escape Publishing

Chapter 12

Tyler curled his fingers over the curve of Mallory’s hip, the possessive gesture drawing her closer to his side. Her light floral scent teased his nostrils, flooding his groin with heat. She glanced up at him, her attention leaving the dull conversation they found themselves trapped in with two of his father’s old business associates. Her blue eyes sparkled, transporting his mind back to this afternoon spent in bed. Not that he’d forgotten. Her whimpers still echoed around in his head, the scratches on his shoulder stung every time he moved and his scalp tingled from her persistent hair tugging.

Despite the diminutive stature and the librarian vibe she projected with her nerdy glasses and vintage outfits, Mallory was a hellcat. Ceding control to her—not his usual style—had unleashed her powerful femininity and he’d reaped the rewards. Her hesitant demands, a tantalising blend of tentative and tenacious such a turn-on he’d forgotten his own name. He hadn’t expected her to comply when he’d told her to watch him, but she’d released the voyeuristic vixen inside and he’d almost embarrassed himself.

She was astounding—a constant revelation.

A waiter paused at their group with a tray of drinks and Tyler took the two glasses of iced tea he’d ordered and handed one to Mallory. Her grateful smile and the delicate flush of her cheeks kicked him in the gut.

Where was that inquisitive, surprisingly open mind wandering? If he thought his parents wouldn’t notice, he’d drag her back to the guesthouse and divest her of that fire-engine red dress. Fortunately it was backless. His hand settled in the small of her back, his fingers, chilled from her glass, creating a tiny ripple of shivers up her spine.

Tyler zoned back into the conversation as Edgar Burgess, his father’s business partner introduced his third wife to the group. ‘Mallory, my wife, Delaney. Darling, this is Mallory Hughes.’ His junior by at least twenty years, the statuesque redhead teetered on six-inch heels and wore a wisp of a dress more appropriate for a nightclub than a backyard anniversary party.

The women shook hands, Delaney’s gaze sweeping Mallory from head to toe. Her assessment over, she settled her sultry eyes on him over Mallory’s head. Strong protective urges slammed through him, his muscles tense, ready for a showdown.

‘You’re Tyler Wentworth—I love your work. Are you filming at the moment?’

The last thing he wanted to do tonight was discuss work, his time off so scarce he held it sacrosanct. Mallory stepped sideways to accommodate the other woman and his hand slipped from her back. No way—time to graciously leave this conversation and get Mallory on the dance floor where he could touch her as much as he liked and ensure she understood she was worth ten Delaneys.

‘I am. But I’m off-duty tonight and I was just about to ask Mallory to dance—you’ll excuse us, Mrs Burgess?’

‘Of course.’ Delaney’s perfectly manicured hand gripped his arm, the overfamiliarity grating on his nerves. Releasing him, she turned to Mallory, an afterthought. ‘I love your dress.

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