With Aria in the middle of having virtual sex and Renee probably sleeping off what sounded to be one hell of a climax, Jaime knew she was left on her own. “Their nuts won’t kill my show,” she said, reentering her room to remove the black satin short set she wore to bed. She made her way past the head of the bed to reach the adjoining bath behind it for a quick shower.
Thirty minutes later, she was dressed in a black strapless bikini with sheer black wide-leg pants, her braids up in a dramatic topknot. It was a lot for so early in the morning.
“Fuck it,” Jaime said as she turned this way and that in the mirror before leaving her suite.
She paused in the doorway at Renee and her lover sharing a kiss at the end of the hall. He was still in his white swim trunks and she was naked as the day she entered the world. Coolly, she cleared her throat as she leaned in the door jam. She gave them a tight smile and a little wave as they both looked at her in surprise.
“We were just saying our goodbyes,” Renee explained, not bothering to hide her nudity as she looked up at him. “This is Sanders.”
“Mornin’,” he said with a toothy smile as big as his island accent.
“Good morning,” Jaime said, looking away as they shared another kiss with a deep moan.
“Maybe we’ll see each other again before the week is out,” Renee said.
“Maybe,” he agreed, with his voice sounding more like “most definitely”.
Renee chuckled lightly. Flirtatiously. She whispered something to him. He laughed.
Jaime felt as if she was intruding.
His footsteps sounded against the wood floor before he walked past her.
“It’s nice to put a face with the . . . sounds, Sanders,” Jaime called behind him as Renee walked down the hall to stand beside her.
He glanced back at them with a smile and shake of his head before walking across the den and out the French patio doors toward the beach.
“What a night,” Renee sighed.
Jaime arched a brow as she looked down at Renee’s nudity. “I have seen—and heard—way more of you than I needed to, friend,” she drawled dryly.
“I might stay naked all week long,” Renee said, running her hands over her close-shaven head before spreading her arms wide as she walked backward down the hall.
“Stay ready so you don’t have to get ready, huh?”
“There is no getting ready for the goodness—the hardness—of a thirty-year-old dick.”
Jaime’s eyes dipped. “Well on behalf of your thirty-year-old one-night stand and myself... thank you for waxing,” she said, reaching back to pull her bedroom door closed.
Renee took a bow.
“I’m off to explore. Be back in an hour,” Jaime called over her shoulder before she made her way across the suite to the front door. Immediately, the wild blend of sweet tropical flowers, succulent spices the islands were known for, and the crisp scent of the nearby ocean was intoxicating. She took a deep inhale as she appreciated the beauty of the land and the colonial architecture of the white structures against the pale beach, the towering almond, palm and lemon trees, turquoise waters, and green mountains in the distance.
It truly was beautiful. Relaxing. Serene.
After the last few years of growing her business and outgrowing drama of the past, this week was just what she needed. She was looking forward to the vibe, surroundings, amenities, and excursions. And Luc gave it all to her without asking for anything in return.
She eased her phone out of her pocket to call him, knowing he was up—maybe even still in an all-night studio session with one of his newer artists. She paused as she eyed the large beachfront wooden yoga pavilion. Yesterday, upon their arrival, Charmaine had taken them on a personal tour of the resort and the large rear wall of the structure had been covered by curtains. But those were now opened revealing a mural in the works.
Peaches, turquoise, and blue abstracts served as the backdrop for serene-looking people in varying shades of brown with bright eyes that on second glance showed more defiance than humor.
It looks so real. More like a photo than a painting.
Slow steps carried her up the stone-paved path to the steps. Somehow the mural was skillfully muted enough to not overpower the yoga studio or the surrounding island but still vibrant enough to draw and hold the eye. Tantalize. Intrigue.
It was masterful.
And although incomplete she took out her phone and captured several shots.
“So beautiful,” she said aloud, fighting an urge to stroke it but knowing by the strong smell of oil paints that it was still wet.
“Thank you, Jaime.”
She froze. Her phone fell from her hands. She trembled. Her heart pounded wildly. “No,” she whispered with a lick of her lips.
But she knew—her body knew—even before she turned around and laid eyes on Graham Walker standing at the foot of the steps that it was him. Her entire body felt like one open and exposed nerve. Raw and vulnerable. Their eyes held and she hated the tears that rose with a quickness as each inhale and exhale of her breath echoed harshly. It had been six years since that day on the rooftop. And of course, the time had done nothing to dull his beauty. Not one thing at all. Instead, it had enhanced it.
Long, waist-length dreads framed a face that used to haunt her. The hardness of his high cheekbones and jawline were softened by supple lips and bright eyes surrounded by long and lush lashes that she knew firsthand grazed his face when he slept. Still tall, muscular, and fit. That was clear even in the loose, paint-stained shirt and drawstring pants he wore.
As they continued to stare at one another, she raced through so many emotions. Feeling each one. Swiftly. One after the other.
“And when I saw Pleasure – I mean Graham—today I told him to stop hiding from you and reach out. Didn’t he call? He might be busy, being back in business and all,” Jessa had said with a lick of her lips.
“You’re a liar,” Jaime replied.
“No, I saw him today. It was good to see him . . . and feel him . . . and fuck him. ”
That memory of Jessa Bell taunting her six years ago landed her on anger.
“It’s good to see you, Jaime,” Graham said, wiping his damp hands on a cloth as he climbed the few steps into the open-air building,
She bit her bottom lip and stepped back from him as she shook her head. “No,” she whispered, feeling strangled by his betrayal, and hating how the pain lingered even after all the years. It was visceral. And deep.
Damn.
He smiled and his dimples deepened as he walked over to where she felt frozen. “I can’t believe it’s you,” he said, his voice still deep and strong as black coffee. The scent of his signature Tom Ford cologne still warm and intriguing.
“To hell with you,” she said snidely, before moving past him.
She nearly stumbled as she took off down the front steps, running from him and everything she felt at seeing him again. This man she once loved. This man who swore off being a manwhore. This man who slept with her worst enemy.
A strong hand clasped around her wrist to stop her retreat. She grimaced and grunted as she snatched away from his touch and turned to land her free hand solidly against his cheek. “Stay the fuck away from me, Pleasure,” she spat.
His face hardened and their eyes locked again as he held her in place with just inches between them. His jaw clenched and unclenched and the look in his eyes changed as he wrapped an arm around her waist and lifted her with ease up against his body. Her struggle against his strength was futile.
“Put me down, Graham!” she shouted, not caring who heard.
But the area of the beach around them was empty.
With long strides, he walked them to the rear of the palladium where there was an attached small shed. It was filled with shelves of yoga mats, blankets, towels, and bolsters. The scent of candles was overwhelming in the long and narrow space, but not more so than her body being pressed against the closed door by Graham’s.
A coldness entered his eyes. “There was a time you couldn’t get enough of all I had,” he volleyed back.
“I was a fool to think you had anything more going for you than that,” Jaime said, her voice soft but her intent to strike out against him very clear.
Graham squinted as he looked at her and his grip on her upper arms tightened a bit. “If sex was all we had then why are you so angry I didn’t reach out to you?” he asked, his eyes searching her face.
She released a bitter laugh, keeping her eyes on his. “It’s you reaching back out to Jessa Bell that has me pissed.”
He frowned in confusion. “Jessa Bell?” he said, releasing her and taking a step back. “I haven’t seen her since the day her ex-father-in-law tried to kill her.”
“Yes, I know.”
“No, I don’t think you do if the fact that she appeared out of the blue, tried to seduce me, said some cruel shit, and then flew out of there when whatever the hell she was hoping to go down did not,” Graham stressed, resting his hands on his hips as he looked over at her.
“Liar,” Jaime said, fighting the childish urge to mush him in the face. “She told me you fucked her, Plea-sure.”
He shook his head in disbelief. “I’ve never fucked that lady. When does she claim I did?” he asked.
“That night.”
“What!” he exclaimed in surprise.
Jaime rolled her eyes. “Save the masterful performances for the bedroom, Graham, because I’m not buying it,” she said.
In one large step, he was back before her and gripping her upper arms to hoist her body up a bit off the floor. “And I’m not selling a damn thing but commissions of my art,” he said through clenched teeth.
“Once a whore . . . always a whore,” she said with deliberate slowness.
If she was honest with herself, she wanted him to make her believe he no longer sold his body and that he never shared it with her enemy.
“That could go both ways,” he returned in a cold voice, reminding her that she was married to another man when she used to pay for his sex.
Jaime gasped in shock and eased her hands up between them to press against his chest before she used all her might to put space between them with a push. Her might was nothing against his strength because he barely budged and was still in her personal space, sucking the very air from around her with his presence.
Just like always.
“Look at me,” Graham demanded, giving her arms a little shake.
She did, casting her eyes up at him.
He leaned down. “I am many things, Jaime, but I’m not a liar,” he said, his voice hard. “Am I?”
She said nothing, denying him the confirmation he sought more out of stubbornness than disagreement. She felt the coolness of his breath against her face and the heat of his body against her own.
“I never slept with Jessa,” he insisted.
I believe him.
Jaime grunted in derision. “Too bad you can’t say that for all the other women you’ve screwed over the years,” she said, holding on to her anger because any other emotion—at this moment—was dangerous.
As hell.
Silence reigned. Her breathing increased pace and depth. Each exhale seemed to echo. Her pulse sped and the pounding of her heart was thunderous. When his eyes dipped down to her mouth with longing and caused her nipples to tighten, she roughly pushed against his chest trying not to take in the familiar hardness of it as she did. He gave her a slow and wicked smile that caused her clit to throb with renewed life. She jerked her hand up to pop against his cheek.
WHAP.
Graham captured her hand, keeping it pressed against his face before he turned his head and pressed a kiss to her palm. “Jaime,” he said softly.
Just the sound of her name being whispered from his lips sent every one of her senses into high alert. The scent of his warm and spicy cologne. The touch of his hand against her pulse. The very sight of his beautiful face. The sound of their rushed breathing that blended in the brief space between them.
He lowered his head and she hungered for the taste of his mouth.
It had been seventeen years since she’d first laid eyes on him and had felt undeniably drawn to him. At that moment, her awareness of him was just as strong—maybe more so.
The kiss never landed. Her disappointment stung.
“Damn,” Graham swore, pounding his fists against the door before he turned their bodies so that his back was braced against it as he guided her back from him, outstretching his arms.
Jaime fought to slow her breathing and steady her pulse as she took several more steps back. She closed her eyes, feeling freed from the draw of him. At his continued silence, she opened her eyes to find him staring at her as he raked his fingers through his dreads and bit his bottom lip.
The look in his eyes?
Hunger.
She shivered.
“What are you doing here, Graham?” Jaime asked.
“Trying not to strip you and make love to you on the floor.”
I believe him.
Her heartbeat was fast and wild as she swallowed over a lump in her throat while he took her in from head to toe. Slowly. Deliberately. She thought of the bikini and sheer pants she wore but felt naked. He knew her body. Intimately.
And she knew his, remembering it well. Every pleasure spot. Each nuance to make him roar like a lion.
Like massaging his inner thighs while I licked the pulsing vein running the length of his thick and long dick.
“I better go,” Jaime said, pressing her fingertips to her neck and finding it heated.
“That might be best,” Graham agreed. “You are tempting me and it’s getting harder to fight the urge.”
She nodded several times before walking toward him.
Graham remained leaning against the door, blocking her retreat.
Their eyes locked once more.
The tension in the small space was thick and heavy. Pulsing between them and around them. A creation uniquely their own.
“It was good to see you, Graham,” she said.
“You too, Jaime.”
She reached past him to grip the doorknob. “Excuse me,” she said, looking out one of the glass panes at the beach.
“Don’t go,” he implored, covering her hand with his.
Jaime gasped at his electric touch.
“The very sight of you makes me want to throw it all away,” he whispered down to her.
She made the mistake of glancing up at him. It was her undoing.
And with one final shake of his head, Graham slid his arm around her waist and pulled her body in front of his before he buried his face against her neck. “Jaime. Jaime. Jaime,” he moaned against her skin.
Madness set in quickly.
She felt transported back in time and closed her eyes as the wave of pure desire poured over her. “Graham,” she gasped as she dropped her head onto his shoulder.
“Fuck it,” he said before he gripped the back of her neck and turned her face to capture her mouth with his own.
The first stroke of his tongue against hers brought up a cry of hunger from deep within her. She splayed her fingers on the sides of his face and kissed him back with fervor as he turned them again to press her back to the door. She brought each of her knees up to clasp his side and rolled her hips as he pressed his hardness against her belly.
Everything was so familiar. Time meant nothing. The hum of their chemistry was steady and their passion blinding. Every pulse pounded. Her head spun.
This was an addict feasting on their drug.
It was damn good. Glorious.
Graham kissed her deeply as he grabbed the rims of her pants
and bikini bottoms into his fist and jerked them down over her hips and buttocks. She felt it all. The trembling of his hands against her soft skin. A rush of desire that made her heady as she lowered each leg for him to finally remove the garments. The draft of air when he flung them away blew against her. The mix of its coolness against her skin. The heat of his kisses that caused her to whimper.
As he shifted his pants and boxers down around hips and buttocks to pool around his bare feet, she cried out as he hitched her up higher against the door to level her breasts with his face. Graham used his entire tongue to lick one taut nipple and then the other before dragging it up the deep valley of her breast and her entire neck with a wildness that thrilled her.
“Graham!” she gasped, arching her back from the door.
He turned her body, pressing her breasts against the warm glass of the door. “Bend your legs,” he ordered.
She did, bringing each one up with her inner thighs against the door and her knees as high as her waist. She didn’t know his plan for her. She did not care.
Graham held her up with his arms as he bent his body to lick and bite each buttock.
She cried out when his tongue licked at her core from behind. Quivering in heat, she curved her back, raising her bottom and giving him access to more of her intimacy to taste and suckle. “Shit,” she swore with a moan from the back of her throat as she closed her eyes at the first wave of her climax.
He moaned and grunted as he sucked at her sweet juices as if thirsty and starved. “So good,” he moaned against her flesh. “So. Good.”
Jaime fought the urge to hotly lick at the glass plane of the door.
With one last deep bite of each of her soft buttocks, he rose and guided his hot and hard inches inside her as he gripped her hips to slide her down against his upward thrust.
They gasped.
Jaime dragged her fingers against the door into a fist that she pounded against the wood at the feel of him pressing against her inner walls. Hot. Hard. Throbbing. Filling her completely.
Her Pleasure Page 3
