by L. Steele
"Sienna."
Jace's voice is loud enough to make me start.
"Open the door. I know you're in there."
I don't move.
Jace pounds on the door again.
"Goddammit woman," he roars. "Open. The. Damn. Door!"
Before he's completed the statement, I'm on my feet and at the door. I fling it open.
Jace's hand is poised to bang on the door again, the other thrust up against the door frame for support. He stands motionless, silver-green eyes wide and more opaque than usual.
His jacket is muddy, his tie half off. I wince on seeing the cut on his upper cheek.
All of which, of course, only makes him look even more appealing. A slow tug pulls at the base of my stomach. I take a deep breath to squash down that melting feeling.
"You're biting your nails," he says, voice husky.
"What?" I start guiltily.
Dropping my hand to my side, my fingers curl into a fist. I'm still wearing his ring. I shove my hand behind my back.
He brushes past me, holding himself stiff. Movements controlled. Jace takes one heavy step, and another.
The sharp reek of alcohol hits me.
He’s drunk out of his skull. Even as I think that, he trips over the carpet and goes sprawling.
What the—?
I leap toward him and sink to my knees next to his fallen body.
"Dammit. Did you hurt yourself?" I ask, my hands hovering over him.
When he doesn't move, I begin to fret in earnest. It's not like Jace to be so docile, so submissive. Unless...he's injured.
Worry twists my gut. Gripping his shoulders, I urge him to turn. When he’s on his back, I lean back on my heels and stare down. His eyes are still closed and his arms stretched out. The smell of alcohol hits me afresh.
"Did you roll around in a pool of booze?" My voice comes out sharper than I intended.
"Stag night," he says, his voice hoarse.
He swallows, and I notice the redness around his throat.
"You get into a fight as well?"
His eyes flutter open, barely enough for a gleam of silver to shine through. "Yeah."
His fingers creep up my bare thigh. I slap at his bruised knuckles.
"Who did you fight with? The bar staff?"
A guilty look steals up his face. He looks young, vulnerable. Reaching out, I brush the hair off his forehead.
"Eric?" I ask.
He goes still, his eyes slide away.
Lucky guess.
"Seriously?" I blow out a breath, "You've been brawling with your business partner?"
"Ex-business partner," he mumbles.
"You guys fought and broke up? What, are you five?" I ask in an impatient voice. "Now you're going to ask Mommy to kiss the wounds better. That's why you're here, right?"
As soon as the words are out, I want to take them back. But it's too late.
His eyebrows shoot up. It's the excuse he was waiting for.
"Will you?" His hands once more creep up the flesh of my thigh exposed by my shorts.
I gasp, try to back away.
But he grips my leg, squeezing the soft flesh.
A sliver of pleasure crawls toward my center. I shiver. My heartbeat goes up a notch.
When I try to edge away, his other arm winds around my waist.
"Kiss me." He pulls my head down.
His fingers brush the edge of my shorts. Sneak under it.
My lips are so close I can smell his breath. His alcohol-laced breath. I cough, pull back.
"Brush your teeth first," I gasp.
He looks stunned. The expression on his face is so comical, I chuckle.
"I'll help you up." Gripping his hand—the one still on my thigh—I get to my feet, heaving him up.
He doesn't protest.
Using my shoulder as leverage, he tries to get to his feet. Stumbles. I fling my arm around his waist and together we teeter to a standing position.
Jace leans his weight on me. Panting a little, I walk toward the bathroom, half-dragging him along.
Leaving him to rinse out his mouth, I go out to get a glass of water. By the time I come back to the bedroom, he's stretched out on the sheets, fast asleep.
I place the glass of water on the side table next to him.
In sleep, his face is peaceful, the moonlight flowing over those high cheekbones. He looks beautiful, his face all planes and angles.
Bending down, I brush my lips over his. He doesn't stir.
A wave of fatigue washes over me, and I crawl under the covers, on the far side of the bed. Won’t harm to sleep next to him, on our last night together.
Turning my back on Jace, I shut my eyes.
Big mistake.
* * *
A solid wall of warmth against my back, and I burrow against it. A hand snakes across my waist, pulling me closer. Heat spools over me, into my skin. Sinking in. I let the sensations wash over me.
A touch glides over my arm, leaving goose bumps in its wake. I push back against the unyielding wall of muscle at my back. His breath shudders over my neck, bringing with it that fresh sea-breeze smell. I know then where I am.
In bed.
With Jace.
And he's holding me.
I feel his hardness against the curve of my hip. He's so close, the feel of his skin surrounding me. His chest rising and falling in tandem with mine as if we were in synchrony.
Liquid desire pools in my belly, and a shudder runs down my back. I know then I must leave.
Now.
If I stay, we'll make love. I'll never get Jace out of my head after that.
But this is my last night here with him.
I hesitate, unsure what to do.
Jace makes the decision for me. He grips my hips and hauls me closer till I am pressed up against him.
His toenails scrape across the sole of my feet, and I shiver as the vibrations ripple over me.
His fingers slip under my shorts, under the lace of my panties, and a fresh wave of heat erupts inside.
Mercy.
I want him, I do. And it's not the money, or his status. It's the man himself. Who he is. The vulnerable man I'd glimpsed confused about his feelings for Asher. The one who yet misses his mother, yet portrays that tough, hardened investor to the world.
My very own fallen angel.
And I want him to want me.
I become aware of a hollow feeling deep inside. A pulse springing to life, pushing me to seek him out. The molten feeling grows, wetness pooling between my thighs. I lock my knees together, mouth going dry.
Without opening my eyes, I try to turn, only to find he's holding me in place.
That secret core inside me pulls at him, and I can smell his arousal. A deep, warm, musky scent that sends another spurt of molten heat through me.
I moan and try to turn again. As if understanding what I want, he pushes his finger inside me. I gasp and almost come with the shock.
"Shh." He blows against my ear and I shiver, even as he slides another finger inside. The heel of his hand brushes against my soft curls, tugging at me, pulling, and I moan again.
Hearing myself is so erotic, it turns me on even more. I lock my thighs around his hand, holding him captive. My muscles clench, and I try to pull him deeper inside.
His fingers dip in-out-in and I groan, bringing up my knees almost to my chest, curling around that throbbing in my center.
My fingers grip his forearm, feeling his muscles move. In and out, in and out, till it feels as if he's holding me with an invisible thread that runs all the way inside, deeper inside than I've ever let myself feel.
He turns, sliding me over so I am on top of him, my back on his chest, my thighs still wrapped around his hand. His other hand cups my breast, massaging it gently before squeezing the nipple.
The pulse throbbing inside me speeds up, slamming my heart against my chest. I pant as if I've been running for miles. Fling my arms up and around his neck. When his bea
rd scrapes against my forearm, it only maddens me further.
He slips a third finger in, still rhythmically thrusting in and out before reaching deep inside. I arch my back as something inside me pushes through, sweeping aside the wall I've been trying to build between us from the first moment we met. Reaching, reaching, till the desire explodes out of me. I cry out as I come, the keening sound strange even to my own ears.
When I open my eyes, I'm on my back with Jace's face hovering over me. His hair is mussed, silver-green eyes narrowed. He's watching me, waiting for my reaction to what happened.
My arms are splayed out on either side. Remembering how I'd climaxed makes me flush.
His eyes widen, and the green of his irises seems to grow brighter, rising in waves till his eyes glow with an intensity that makes my mouth go dry.
My heart pounds, the pulse beating at my temples, and my breath comes in short gasps.
His gaze falls to my chest before sliding back to my face.
Silent, he touches my cheek, tucking a stray strand of hair behind my ear.
"I won't hurt you," he says.
"I know," I stutter.
"But you don't trust me," he sighs softly, his breath shuddering over my throat.
"No, I don't," I say, my voice coming out rough. "But I still want you."
His eyes widen, the silver in them clashing with the green. He's turned on by what I said.
He leans close enough for me to feel his heart thud against his chest. Or perhaps that's my heartbeat moving up a notch.
It doesn't matter. Not when he's looking at me as if I am the only thing between him and certain death.
Placing his arms on either side of me, he supports himself on his forearms. Muscles straining to hold up his weight.
"Say that again." His voice whispers over my skin.
"That again," I say, half teasing.
He leans in, pressing his erection against me, and I gasp aloud. The heat pours off him, surrounding me. Sweat breaks out over my forehead, and I grit my teeth to keep from reaching out and hauling him into me.
"Say it," his voice soft yet threatening.
"I want you—"
Before I complete my sentence, he captures my mouth.
33
Sienna
* * *
Jace kisses me, sliding his tongue into my mouth with an ease that has me shuddering. I surge up against him.
Scissoring my legs around his waist, I fling my arms around his shoulders and haul myself against him.
I bite down on his lips, drawing blood. The metallic tang fills my mouth and I break away, gasping, looking down to where a drop of blood seeps up through the broken skin.
Grasping my T-shirt, he pulls it off, throwing it aside. Before bending down and capturing my erect nipple. A pulse of light shudders through my skin.
That arouses me even more, driving me a little over the edge. Blind with desire, I lean in and bite his shoulder.
This time, I feel the shudder go through him.
Sliding to his feet, he sheds his pants. He's back again and before I can draw breath, he pulls of my shorts and my panties with it. Then he's inside me. One minute I am empty. The next, he fills me.
It's like he's possessing me.
A moan wells up, only to be swallowed by his mouth.
He's still for a second. Absorbing the sound. Drinking of my essence. Of me.
Then he angles himself, going deeper, more inside than anyone has ever been before, into that secret emotional part of me I've always held back, hidden even from myself. And when I cry out, he's already there, his mouth on mine to absorb the sound of pain and anger and something more, an emotion I can't quite understand myself.
My hand grips his hair, the other holding his upper arm, feeling his biceps flex. His shoulders clench as he pulls back, thrusts again. And again. I scream as I come, waves of pleasure travel up my spine.
Jace groans, climaxing with me. Then his body collapses on mine, pinning me to the bed. I hold him to me.
We stay there unmoving, for seconds, minutes. I feel like he's become a part of me. His muscles bunch, and I know he's going to pull away. Panic grips me.
I don't want to let go.
If I do, I know I won't let myself back.
Don't go.
I brush my lips against his. My inner muscles shiver up against him, groaning in my throat.
And then he's kissing me back.
It's a long time before we fall asleep.
By the time he opens his eyes again, I’ll be gone.
34
Jace
* * *
When Jace reaches for Sienna, there's no one there. No warm skin flowing under his. His eyes fly open. That warm-honey essence of hers is still flowing through his blood and making him hard. He's erect, thirsty for her. He looks over to her side of the bed to find it empty.
"Fuck." Jace swings his feet to the floor, looks around.
Nothing.
The T-shirt and shorts that he'd torn off her last night and thrown to the floor; her cosmetics from the dressing table, all gone. So is her suitcase.
Going to the bathroom, he flings it open. He can't stop himself from hoping. Then, still naked, not bothering to get dressed, he walks across the living room space to his room on the other side.
She's. Not. There.
Walking back into the bedroom where they'd made love, he's struck anew by the mussed-up bed, the scent of sex still in the air. And below that, her perfume that lingers.
The now familiar black coffee and vanilla. Mysterious, addictive. It still pulls at him and he's surprised to find himself harden again.
He swears at his foolishness. At his inability to hold back when it comes to her.
From the moment, the PI had sent him her pictures, he'd been attracted to Sienna. He'd wanted her even before he'd met her. Liquid fire: her essence tugged at his gut in a way that had him wanting to both shake some sense into her, yet protect her.
And when he'd gotten to know her better, that feeling had grown. Her moods, which changed by the minute, her temper often catching him unawares. He'd been unable to pin her down. And that had only challenged him to go after her.
All she had to do was unleash those sparks in her tawny eyes, and he'd be begging at her feet, ready to do whatever she wanted. He'd tried to hold back, bury what he felt deep inside in a place she couldn't get to. He'd almost succeeded in hiding the emotional part. His physical reaction had been far more difficult to disguise.
He laughs, a humorless chuckle, and runs his fingers through his hair before dropping them to his side. It’d been her secretiveness that had made him pursue her. Those unspoken secrets buried inside her. Secrets she hadn't admitted to herself. Submerged behind walls so deep she probably didn't know they existed. But he'd tasted them, those flavors of her that pulled at him.
The hint of loneliness, the vulnerability that was also her strength, made him want him to lean into her. And sometime in the last few days, he had submitted himself. Allowed himself to be taken in by the charade.
Or perhaps it was the surprise of meeting Asher after all these years that had made him weak. Reminding him again of his mother's death. And along with that, the emotional kick of meeting his father had hit him in the gut.
It had lowered his barriers. Had made him turn to her. His own solace in a world overwhelming him with emotions. His fiancé. He'd come to see her as his own.
Except she'd never been his.
Sienna is an employee, someone hired to do a job. One she hadn't completed.
Jace stares out the window. Tonight is Natalie’s wedding, and Sienna wouldn't be there.
The one thing he'd asked her for, and she'd failed. She'd known he needed her there. Only a few more hours, and he would have convinced his father about his suitability for the inheritance.
As the reality of his situation dawns, anger pours through him, churning his guts.
He's going to make sure Sienna doesn't receive th
e rest of the money. But first, he is going to find her, and make her pay for hurting him. For leaving him the most vulnerable he'd ever been.
He starts to head out of the room, only to hesitate at the threshold. He's not even sure what he's looking for, not till he sees the table on her side of the bed. It's empty.
And the tightness in his chest fades somewhat.
She's taken the ring with her.
He doesn't question why that sends a pulse of reassurance through him.
35
Sienna
* * *
I shouldn't confuse the physical with the emotional. I've told myself that a hundred times before, and yet, as I stare out of the window of the plane, all I can relive are those moments.
A gaze.
A touch.
A kiss.
His fingers splayed out on my waist, reaching out to where the skin dips down to my core. His lips brushing mine, tongue thrusting inside. His fingers running over my skin, in me.
The heat from his body coiling around me, making me feel safe, protected, cherished.
A dream. It was all a dream. Unreal.
A business transaction, that's all it was for him. But it had become so much more for me.
If I had stayed, could I have convinced Darren that Jace was serious about settling down and starting a family? Would it have kept Darren from disinheriting Jace? I'll never know.
I am on the flight en route to Bombay. I had to leave. That call left me no choice.
Accepting the glass of wine from the stewardess, I notice the ring on my finger. His ring. In my hurry to leave, I'd forgotten to take it off.
Or perhaps I'd wanted to keep it a little longer. There's no doubt in my mind that I'm going to send it back to him. But for now I can still pretend I had a connection with him, right?
You'd slept with him, that's all. It's not like you are his fiancée. Or that one night meant anything to him.
Yet I'd sensed a depth of emotion from him when we made love. He couldn't have been faking it. Not all of it. He couldn't have been.
