by Casey Hagen
She was softening. He could feel it. She leaned into him more. More often than not, her hand would rest on his thigh or his forearm. He enjoyed every brush of her fingers, even though the sensations left him in agony, leaving him roaming Fiji with a raging hard-on.
They checked out several shops with local crafts. He watched as Corrine pondered a variety of carved shells with intricate orchid designs. Finally, she settled on a large shell on a display stand the size of his hand, and a long oval medallion with carved orchids running along the curves.
After shopping, they ducked into a cozy little restaurant where they found a private corner. He decided this was the perfect opportunity to see just how far he could push into her personal space. She slid onto the flowered bench seat, her head snapping to his when he slid in right next to her.
"What are you doing?"
"Sitting with you." He picked up his menu, smiling when he spotted her glare from the corner of his eye.
"There is a bench on the other side."
"I'm good."
She sighed and pulled out her phone. He glanced over and saw twenty-six text messages. She quickly scrolled through without reading a one and dropped her phone back in her purse. Then she made him smile by picking up her menu and promptly ignoring him.
"Is the fiancé harassing you?"
"It's not the EX-fiancé."
"It's someone who bothers you."
She sighed. "It's my mother."
"Is she okay?" He laid the menu down on the table and turned to her.
"If you call being a controlling pain in the ass okay, she's in tiptop shape."
"Ouch! Is she mad about the wedding?" He reached out and wrapped his fingers in a lock of her hair, watching the waves slide over his hand.
"Mad, disappointed, and on the ex-fiancé’s side."
His hand stilled. "Seriously?"
"Oh, yeah!” She turned to him looking weary and disappointed. "My mother thinks I should have overlooked what he did. She kept throwing out excuses. 'Men have needs' and how, 'I'm lucky he doesn't look to me to satisfy his more erotic needs' and, my personal favorite, 'Wives have to make sacrifices sometimes to land such high-profile men.' She made me sound like the unreasonable one because I expected the man I was marrying to be faithful."
"And to that you said?"
"I've told her repeatedly I'm not going back to him, but she keeps viewing me as a child having a tantrum instead of a woman who knows she deserves better."
The waitress came over and took their orders. After their iced tea arrived, Everett picked up where they left off.
"Real men don't cheat, Corrine. At all. You did the right thing, no matter what your mother thinks."
"I should have known I wouldn't be enough for him. It was silly to think so. He's dated a small army of women, and I—" Her lips snapped shut.
"You what?"
"Nothing. It doesn't matter."
"I think it does."
“You’re not going to let this go, are you?”
“No, I’m not.”
"I don't have much experience. Happy now? I couldn't hold on to my fiancé because I don't know how to do all the things he apparently likes."
So many thoughts crowded Everett’s brain it was a wonder he didn't short-circuit. Shaking his head, he took hold of her shoulders. "First of all, this isn't your fault. No matter how inexperienced you are." That explained why she looked so unsure whenever he touched her.
"Second, you're supposed to learn those things. It's not like we turn into adults and know what feels good.” This discussion was doing nothing for the growing problem in his pants.
"Third, being horny isn't a reason to cheat. Ever!" Her eyes went wide at the word "horny," making him smile. He really didn't want to know, but had to ask. "Did you and your ex have an active sex life?" He tensed, waiting for her answer. The image of another man touching her slammed, unwelcome, into his head.
She shook her head. "No."
"If not active, how often?"
"We didn't," she whispered.
"At all?"
"No."
"Not even once?"
"Jesus! I said no. We never had sex!"
Everett glanced around at the raised eyebrows looking their way.
Corrine covered her reddening face with her hands. "Oh, God. I did it again. This is your fault! First, the plane, and now, here."
Laughing, he pulled her hands away from her face. "Hey, don't hide. Not from me." He kissed her knuckles on both hands. "Why didn't you have sex with your ex?"
She sighed and closed her eyes. "He said it would be more romantic to wait. He said I deserved the perfect wedding night."
He put his arm around her, pulling her to him, and kissed the top of her head. "The problem was his, Corrine, and his alone. He was right about one thing…you deserve the perfect wedding night."
She looked up into his eyes. Her gold-flecked eyes softened. "You're making me crazy," she said, her eyes locked on his mouth.
He cleared the thickness from his throat. "Same goes, Corrine Anderson."
Their dishes arrived. Corrine ordered Palusami, a dish with fish wrapped in taro leaves and cooked in coconut milk. When the first bite hit her tongue, she moaned, and her eyelids fluttered shut. Everett found the vision so erotic he swallowed hard. Everything she did and said was sex. Living, breathing sex. Her ex was a damn moron for letting her get away. How the hell had he not noticed the sexual being under that reserved demeanor?
Corrine held out her fork. "You want to try it?"
Wrapping his hand around hers, he guided the tender morsel to his mouth, keeping his eyes on her as he took the fish into his mouth, taking his dear, sweet time dragging his lips on her fork. He watched her swallow hard, satisfied he had as much effect on her as she did him.
"Your turn." He held up his fork, and she eyed it with slightly narrowed eyes.
"What is it?"
"Fish, just like you ordered."
She hesitated before wrapping her lips around his fork. She hummed and smiled as she slowly chewed.
"You like?"
"Mmmm, very much. Are you sure that's fish?"
"Yeah, raw fish." Everett had braved Kokoda, a raw mahi-mahi marinated in coconut milk. The rich flavor helped him forget that he’d actually opted to consume raw fish. People did it all the time here, so he would be fine. At least that's what he told himself.
She choked, then laughed and washed the bite down with cold iced tea.
Lunch turned into a pleasant affair despite the rough start. He couldn’t deny he had a knack for getting her to confess intimate details. The Corrine at Indigo wouldn't have batted an eye at the conversation of sex, but this Corrine was shy and a bit reserved. He found he liked the contrast. He had a feeling he would find the other Corrine again, hopefully soon.
He didn't know when it would happen, but as she warmed up to him, his confidence grew. He had no doubt she would take him up on his challenge. Eventually. He had shown her in a million ways how much he wanted her, and he would continue to show her, but the first move had to be hers. Especially after the way her ex-fiancé treated her. She needed to find the confidence to ask for what she wanted. Until then, he would maintain control.
9 A Taste
When they stepped out into the bright sunlight, Everett pulled out his phone. "Ready for another adventure?"
She’d been wary when he slid in next to her. It seemed as though he surrounded her at times. She’d be lying if she said she didn’t like it. Her sensitive skin felt too tight, and the hum of arousal racing through her veins made her desperate to do something crazy.
Why did she keep fighting it? Jordan didn't want her. He’d annihilated her self-esteem with his vile act of betrayal, making her question every thought and feeling. Well, no more, dammit! She was taking her life back, starting now. With Everett. They were both young, healthy, unattached, so why shouldn't she enjoy the attraction simmering between the two of them? As long as she kept her hear
t out of it, she would be fine. Men did it all the time, right? Sex with no strings. So why not her?
She linked her arm with his and smiled. "Let's do it."
He clicked the button and waited.
Flora Tropica Botanical Gardens
"More colors!"
"You have a thing for lots of color, don't you?" He opened the car door for her.
"I should. I design jewelry for a living."
"Really? What kind?" He pulled out of the parking lot and headed north.
"Well, right now I work for Ross and Dunham Jewelers in San Francisco. About seventy-five percent of the pieces in their Stella line are mine."
He glanced at her in surprise. "I've seen your work. My friend Davis bought his fiancée Karen's ring from your line. Huge, emerald-cut, and surrounded by sapphires."
"Yes! I remember him. Nice guy. Nervous as all get out. The ring didn't originally have sapphires. That was all him. Great idea too!"
Everett shook his head and laughed. He had a wonderful laugh. All low and gravelly. "She was a mess when he proposed. He said she cried for three days whenever she looked at it. You do excellent work."
She’d been told that before, but from him it meant so much more. "Thank you."
"Did you ever think of starting your own jewelry company?"
She looked away, taking in the passing scenery. Businesses gave way to residences, and eventually lush vegetation. Dense tropical foliage burst from between swaying palms. "I have, but I don't know if I can."
He locked one arm on the wheel and reached over to her, settling his hand over her own. He dipped his fingers between her knotted hands, taking her left hand. "What don't you know, Corrine Anderson?"
She ran her free hand over his forearm covered in soft blond hair. She traced her fingers over his knuckles, enjoying the quiet strength he offered. "My family, my mother in particular, isn't thrilled with my career choice. I have hundreds of sketchbooks loaded with designs. I haven't produced a single one."
He slowed the car as they neared Flora Tropica. "Don't you think it's time you did?"
"My mother would have a coronary if I leave the most prestigious jeweler in San Francisco to sell the type of jewelry that inspires me."
"I guess the question is—why are you worried about what your mother thinks? Or your family, for that matter?"
"You don't worry about what your family thinks about you?" she snapped, embarrassed that she still craved her parents’ approval.
He gave her a long look. "Easy there, Corrine Anderson. It's not a criticism. Of course I worry what my family thinks…to an extent. I don't let their opinions decide my life, though. They get to live their lives the way they want. I get to do the same."
"I'm sorry. It's a sore subject for me."
"Yeah, I got that."
"The truth is I don't know why I care what they think. Habit, I guess. I've always had to do the right things. Say the right things." And wasn’t that the kind of thing she was tired of and trying to change?
He lifted her hand to his lips, knocking another hole into her defenses. "How about you just be Corrine and see where it takes you?”
They entered the garden through a stone walkway leading to more wooden walkways and bridges winding through lush greenery. Flowers in deep reds, eye-catching pinks, and bursts of orange curled over handrails. Vibrant red birds with green wings, purple crowns, and bright yellow beaks flew overhead, landing just out of reach. The collared lory, according to the sign. Several families, a few couples, and a few larger groups of people milled about. Kids squealed at the birds’ antics, making Corrine laugh.
Everett and Corrine walked hand in hand through a winding series of stairs into a secluded area of greenery. Striking colors inspired design after design in her mind, forcing her to consider what Everett said. Had anyone ever wanted her to just be herself? Her family and their demands tugged her in so many different directions, each with its own required etiquette.
Corrine loved her sister, respected her, and missed being close to her. As children, they were best friends. Now, they never managed to spend time together. Hannah had immersed herself in corporate law, passing the bar six years after she graduated high school. Now with a baby on the way and a devoted husband, her success cast a spotlight on Corrine's failures. Not that Hannah intended it to. She had a genuine passion for law. It just so happened her career choice fell in line with her demanding parents’—er, mother's—expectations.
Corrine couldn't fault Hannah for that. If anything, maybe it was time for her to learn a lesson from her baby sister and reach for her dreams. If she wanted it enough, she didn't have to wait for her trust fund. She made an excellent living working at Ross and Dunham. She had minimal bills. She’d bought her car outright. She had put a hefty down payment on her condo, leaving her with only a small mortgage.
She’d saved enough so she could live comfortably for two years. What if she cut it down to one and used the other year's living expenses to launch her own line? She could do it. Maybe she could stay with Ross and Dunham on a part-time basis, as a freelance designer, or as a consultant.
"You're awfully quiet over there."
She laid her head on Everett’s arm as they walked through thick growth forming a canopy over a russet arched wooden bridge with intricate scrolls burned into the handrails. Unable to resist, she trailed her index finger over the curls of the design. "Just thinking."
"About?"
They stopped in the middle of the arch under a blanket of yellow and purple blooms fragrant with sweet, pungent scents. Secluded in this natural tunnel, Corrine leaned back against the railing and faced him. "You're right. It's time to be me."
He stepped right up into her space. His body lined up with hers as he towered over her. She forgot to breathe. "You're amazing," he said.
She looked up into those deep blue eyes. "I think you're pretty amazing too."
Her gaze dropped to his mouth. A shiver of awareness stole her breath. Tingles burst to life at the feel of his big hand threading through her hair. Her eyes drifted shut as her breath stuttered in her lungs. He tilted her face up, and his firm lips met hers. He kissed with confidence, giving and taking with every brush of his masterful lips on hers. The sensuous glide of his warm tongue brushing her bottom lip convinced her to open for him.
She squeaked when he cupped her backside and pulled her up on her toes. The hard length of him lined up with her center. Desperate to relieve the hot ache between her thighs, she pressed tighter to him. The slow slide of his tongue against hers ignited her. Aroused and desperate, she whimpered. Burying her hands in the curling, soft hair at his nape, she sought more. She couldn't help herself—she bit his plump bottom lip and reveled in victory when he growled low in his throat.
He pulled away and pressed his forehead to hers, their gasping breaths the only sound in their private oasis. Dragging her fingers over his firm pecs and the ridges of his stomach, she took satisfaction in the way his breathing grew harsh.
"If you keep it up, it won't matter that we're in public. I'll bury myself inside you right here."
She gasped. No man had ever said something so crass to her. As much as the words shocked her, her body responded. She grew damp and wanting. Her breasts ached. Why wasn't she just taking what she wanted?
She pulled his hand from around her waist and laid his palm over her breast. "Touch me."
He hissed as his strong hand flexed on her sensitized flesh. "God, Corrine—you're so damn beautiful!" Locking his free hand in her hair, pulling just enough to excite her, he captured her mouth again. The way his fingers teased her eager nipple and the thrust of his erection into her belly made her desperate. Pressing closer, she reached down and curled her fingers along the firm length of him. His size made her shiver.
He broke the kiss abruptly and pulled her hand away. "No more, or I'll embarrass myself." Linking her fingers with his, he rained a series of light kisses over her face. He cupped her chin and raised her face to his.
"Look at me, Corrine Anderson."
Her eyes fluttered open. "You deserve to be happy and to have all of your dreams come true," he whispered.
"Even if it hurts the ones I love?"
"The ones you love are supposed to love you enough to want you to have your dreams. Come on. I want to see these sketches you were talking about."
10 Missteps
He struggled to be patient. He’d never had issues biding his time before, but the idea of getting inside Corrine kept him in a near frenzied state.
Kissing her…sweet Jesus! He expected heat. He expected growing desire. He didn't expect the knowledge that she was absolutely, no doubt, the one to slam him in the gut the minute he tasted her. No woman had ever turned him inside out with one kiss. Until Corrine.
When she put his hand over her breast, his mind shut down completely. A first for him. Ever. From as early as he could remember, his mind had raced. He sought knowledge in everything. He studied, read voraciously, took electronics apart and put them back together—you name it, and he did it. When he discovered a love for numbers, he shifted his focus to learning every aspect of math and finance.
Numbers calmed him. Numbers were orderly, logical, and based on fundamental rules. Finance allowed him to use math and formulas as multiple components to an overall puzzle. He needed those puzzles like he needed air. A few days ago he firmly believed he would always need numbers to settle him. Now, he wasn't so sure.
He found Corrine fascinating. She was a puzzle all of her own. Her creative inner self warred with the loyal daughter she had been raised to be. Her fierce loyalty was a rare attribute, but in her case, it was eating her alive. She would forget herself, and in those moments, her enthusiasm for color, for jewelry, for her own designs would shine through, but in the next breath she tempered those desires.
Until he kissed her. There was nothing tempered about the way she responded to his kiss. The greedy whimpers, the way she pressed herself against him, and how her aggressive little fists pulled at the back of his hair showed him just how much passion she caged inside. She shocked the hell out of him when she cupped her hand around him.
