by Kendall Ryan
Even as I drove Emma through the streets I used to wander, I found myself growing increasingly quiet. I couldn’t bring myself to burst her bubble. She’d grown up so differently, probably hadn’t known this life existed, which was fine by me. I didn’t want to see the pity in her eyes, didn’t want her to know about the struggles, the weeks we ate nothing but hot dogs because we’d run out of money, the schoolyard fights I’d gotten into when a classmate accused my mother of sleeping with his father.
Maybe it was stupid to come here, but reflecting on the fact that I’d pushed her so hard on our date and she’d given in so beautifully, I’d wanted to do something different this time, something to let her into my world just a tiny bit more.
I stopped beside an alley that was filled with garbage, broken-down furniture, and an overflowing dumpster. It was quite a sight.
“Gavin?” she asked, her voice steady but filled with questions.
“I know you think you know me and you’ve got me figured out, but it wasn’t always like this. I told you that I came from nothing.”
Emma nodded, her eyes widening as she took in our surroundings again. “Where are we?”
My very humble beginning was splayed out for her to see, and instead of making me feel bare and exposed, I simply felt numb.
I pointed up ahead to a decaying seven-story red brick building. “We grew up right there. Third floor, middle unit.”
All three of us boys and my mother had shared a two-bedroom, one-bathroom apartment. We’d lived that way until I was seventeen. Only when my mother passed away did we finally leave the projects and the government-subsidized housing we’d grown up in. Seeing it all again felt surreal, and suddenly I doubted my decision to bring Emma here.
Christ, this is depressing.
I pointed up ahead to the next block. “We walked to the school two blocks down. I used to hang out on that street corner with a pack of hoodlums who are all probably either dead or in jail today.”
Why in God’s name we’d stayed here all those years, I had no clue. During the good years, my mother had enough funds to move us away, yet we’d stayed. Then the money slowed—or rather, my mother got older and her clients became fewer and further between—and we were stuck.
When Quinn hit sixteen, he’d gotten a job doing manual labor at a nearby construction site, and I’d started bagging groceries at the local supermarket. We’d shielded Cooper the best we could, funneling him lunch money or his favorite gummy bears when we could. Even at age fourteen, I’d had my priorities straight. The rent payment came first, groceries next, the electric bill and so on. New clothes and shoes weren’t even on our radar. Now, of course, I tended to overindulge and spoil myself. Growing up without, I definitely enjoyed the finer things.
Gazing off into the distance, I could still remember my mother strolling down the street in her chic wool coat with its fuzzy faux-fur collar tucked up under her chin, tramping through the snow in her high-heeled boots. She’d loved this dilapidated little neighborhood. She knew every shopkeeper, every neighbor, and made sure they all looked out for us.
She was a single mother of three boys doing her best. She never spoke of my father, and the few times I’d tried to ask about him, she’d barked, He’s not here now, is he? So, forget about him.
My mother pushed hard work and education above all else. She hadn’t graduated from high school, but demanded our attendance and good grades. I knew it was her unconventional example of work ethic that pushed me today.
Emma watched a drunk stumble past our car, cursing loudly and waving his fist. She turned toward me, concern in her eyes. “I don’t know what to say. Why are you letting me in like this?”
Looking straight ahead, I took in one last glance at the place that had been my home for so many years. I’d heard the city planned to tear this building down in a few months. It was filled with lead paint and asbestos, and the housing authority had deemed it unfit.
I shrugged. “Just felt like reminiscing, I guess.”
It might not have been the most romantic gesture, but it was all I had. Emma could have said no that first day in my office, but instead she’d agreed to our arrangement. This was my way of reciprocating and letting her in too.
Emma’s eyes widened as she took in our surroundings. Not missing a single detail, she gazed out on the street. “Thank you for showing me.”
“Ready to get out of here?”
She nodded.
I drove us toward the highway, punching the accelerator harder than necessary, eager to leave this part of the city in the past where it belonged.
When we pulled up to the French restaurant I’d chosen for dinner, I parked right in front.
Emma peered out the window. “Are you sure it’s open?”
I nodded. “I rented the restaurant for the evening. The chef is a friend of mine. A client, actually.”
Emma’s eyes widened and her mouth lifted into a smile. “So, it’ll be just us?”
“Indeed.”
Once inside the dim restaurant, I led Emma back to the table near the fireplace, my favorite spot. Quite the dichotomy, from the projects to fine dining. I could tell by Emma’s expression that the irony wasn’t lost on either of us.
We had a simple meal of perfectly cooked steak and green salad. I was pleased the conversation flowed easily between us, hints of that sexual chemistry I’d come to expect zapping between us as we spoke.
“Will you tell me more about your childhood?” Emma finally asked.
I’d been wondering if she would after what I’d shown her tonight.
“Another time.” My mind had had enough of exploring memory lane, and my blood was burning for Emma. I left a stack of bills on the table and rose. “Let’s get out of here.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Emma
Tonight, Gavin had shown me a side of himself that I was still coming to grips with. Inexplicably, he’d let me into his world—shown me a painful glimpse of his past, treating me to a front-row seat to all of it.
I knew from Cooper that they’d had a rough childhood, but I never could have imagined what our little tour entailed. Driving through those streets, seeing his run-down neighborhood and the desolate apartment building he’d called home, I still had chill bumps on my arms just thinking about it. Graffiti-littered streets and women waiting on street corners weren’t a part of my upbringing. But they had been his, and he’d entrusted me with that knowledge.
To know that even now he only lived thirty minutes away from it all, it made me realize that his painful past might not be so distant after all. I knew it wasn’t something he’d share with just anyone. As strange as it sounded, that was special to me, and for that reason, it was a memory I’d cherish.
It probably hadn’t been the best idea to go touring the slums in a brand-new Mercedes, yet I’d never felt unsafe. With Gavin by my side, I’d felt secure in the knowledge that he could handle anything that came our way.
I would never forget his expression when he’d parked. The hard set of his jaw, the feel of his warm palm on my knee, the sleek, luxurious interior of his car where we sat safely cocooned against the stark poverty outside our windows. It was an experience I’d never expected.
But then again, with Gavin I was learning to expect the unexpected.
As close as we’d grown, I knew he was still holding a part of himself back, but I had a feeling tonight was going to change that. Maybe it was because of the way he’d made himself so vulnerable today, or because of the sweet dinner date he’d planned. But with the way his voice had gone husky and his eyes had blazed with passion when he asked if I was ready to leave—I knew he was taking me home.
My skin tingled with the desire for his hands, my body warm and flushed with the secret knowledge that tonight was going to be the night we’d have sex for the first time.
I certainly wasn’t a virgin, so none of this should have felt new or nerve-racking to me, but it did—
incredibly so. Gavin wouldn’t be like my other lovers; I knew that for certain. And the anticipation was killing me. I wanted my hands on him, wanted to feel the weight of his body on mine.
And there would be no going back.
We drove on, turning right onto an almost-deserted street lit with pretty streetlights for another few minutes, until finally pulling into an underground parking garage. Gavin used a keycard to gain entrance, and the mechanical gate slid open silently to admit us.
After pulling into a designated spot right next to the car I recognized as his driver’s, Gavin killed the engine.
“Are you ready?”
I nodded and unlatched my seat belt.
Outside the car, I swayed in my heels, the wine we’d enjoyed at dinner catching up with me. Gavin reached for my elbow, steadying me. He took my purse, holding the strap in his free hand, and led me toward the elevator.
The sight of Gavin holding my deep purple clutch—this big alpha male, well over six feet of solid muscle—it made my heart swell. He certainly knew his way into my panties, but my heart? Was that open to him too?
Before I had time to ponder that, the doors to the elevator closed and Gavin’s muscular frame was pinning me to the wall, his mouth descending firmly over mine. As he nipped at my bottom lip, I knew as long as I lived, I’d never tire of his kisses. The way his tongue moved expertly against mine, the way he coaxed soft moans from my throat despite my best efforts to remain as neutral as he seemed, it was intoxicating. I was drunk on him, and still I wanted more.
The elevator doors opened to an atrium with skylights that I was sure were beautiful during the day, but tonight they were almost eerie, revealing midnight-blue sky and the soft glow of the moon up above.
Gavin stopped in front of a large pale gray door, the only one in the atrium, and entered his code until I heard the lock click.
“I’m surprised it’s not the penthouse.”
“That’s a bunch of overpriced nonsense. I have the entire floor to myself. I do have some limits, pet.” His mouth pulled into a smirk that made my belly flip.
His home was immaculate. A kitchen greeted us first, outfitted with black granite, chrome fixtures, and gray cabinetry that looked so high-end, I was afraid to touch anything. Next, we passed by a formal living room and dining room that I wondered if he ever used. Soft gray silk drapes hung from the ceiling, framing huge picture windows that overlooked an impressive cityscape.
Gavin led me deeper into his apartment, past well-appointed furniture and art. Apparently, he wasn’t kidding about owning the entire fifteenth floor of the building. He stopped in a cozy den with an oversized sofa, a worn leather ottoman, and a flat-screen TV mounted to the wall above a gas fireplace. A side table was strewn with magazines like The Economist and Architectural Digest, along with his laptop.
Part of me wondered if this was where he spent his evenings—the hum of the TV in the background while he worked on his laptop until exhaustion overtook him and he wandered alone to his bedroom. Then again, why did I assume he was alone? He was young, wealthy, and strikingly handsome. He probably had a harem of women available at his beck and call.
All this time I’d assumed I was the only one, but perhaps that was foolish. A weight settled in the pit of my stomach.
“It’s a beautiful place,” I murmured absently.
Gavin continued past the den, hardly acknowledging my compliment. “I had it remodeled, gutted to the studs, before I moved in last year.”
“Did you pick everything yourself?”
He nodded. “Mostly. Sonja helped too.”
The woman I’d met at his office. I briefly wondered if she had a crush on him. Then again, how could she not?
“A guest room.” Gavin pointed to a door on our left as he led me down a hallway. “There’s a loft upstairs with a media room.”
“You have a theater?”
He nodded, smiling at me. “Would you like to come over and watch a movie sometime?”
“I would love to.” Somehow, I couldn’t picture myself sharing a bowl of popcorn with him while a silly comedy played in the background.
Gavin pressed on, continuing the tour. “Guest bath.”
“Nice.”
“And the master suite.” He stopped at the threshold. I guessed that this was it—the tour was over.
“Can I see?” I tried peeking around his shoulder, but the room was concealed in utter darkness.
“Where I sleep?”
I nodded.
His lips quirked up just a fraction. He was waiting for this moment. Apparently, he wanted me to be the one to ask, to give him permission for whatever was about to happen in this room.
He flipped on a small lamp on his dresser as we entered, and my eyes took a moment to adjust. It looked like a high-end hotel room.
A large iron-framed bed dressed in fluffy gray bedding was positioned between two round side tables that each held sparkling crystal lamps. A chaise lounge sat beneath the window, its velvety charcoal upholstery soft and inviting. A door led beyond to his closet and a large bathroom. It was elegant and masculine, perfectly fitting for him.
“Are you . . . seeing anyone else?” The words popped out, sounding immature and childish, even to my own ears.
His mouth tilted into a smile. “You want to know if I’m fucking someone else. Is that it, Emma?”
Biting my lower lip, I nodded.
Gavin turned to face me, taking my face in his hands. “No. I’m not. Are you?” His eyes met mine, and I could tell that my answer to this question mattered greatly to him.
“No.” It was the complete truth. There was no one else but him.
“Undress,” he demanded.
After a moment’s hesitation, I shed my blouse and pencil skirt. With a flick of his wrist, my bra came next.
My hands moved to the hips of my panties, and I moved to pull them down until Gavin stopped me.
“Leave the panties. I want to take those off myself.”
I paused, weighing his words.
“Good girl,” he said, taking my breasts into his hands and sending my heart spiraling.
Letting my eyes close briefly, I steeled myself and my strength for what was to come.
Then his mouth crashed urgently against mine. Fiery sparks exploded beneath my closed eyes, and in that moment, I would have given him anything he asked for.
He kissed my lips, then trailed hot kisses down my neck while I rubbed my pelvis against his. His arousal felt so big and so hard, it could have been a baseball bat.
“Gavin . . .” The groan ripped from my throat as raw need raced through me. I clung to his powerful shoulders for support as the urgency of my need made me dizzy.
“Open my pants, Emma.”
I obeyed at once, pulling down the zipper to his gray trousers and letting the weight of his belt pull them to his knees.
“Touch me,” he commanded, his voice filled with more need than I’d ever heard before.
I brought my palm to his shaft and stroked the length of it, savoring the velvety feel of his hot skin.
“Use both hands.”
Fisting him in both hands, I pumped up and down more firmly this time.
“There,” he said, his voice controlled and measured. “Like that.”
He pushed my panties down my thighs, and they fell to my ankles.
While my hands continued to work his large shaft up and down, Gavin placed his index finger in my mouth. Once I had wet it with my tongue, sucking lightly, he brought his hand between my legs, rubbing my own saliva on the sensitive bundle of nerves with feather-light touches, teasing me until I was moaning and rocking my hips toward his hand.
As we remained rooted to the center of the bedroom, I couldn’t help but wonder if we’d lie together in his bed. Surely, he didn’t mean for us to have sex right here on the floor.
“On your knees, pet.”
Sinking to my knees on the plu
sh carpeting before him, I waited, my eyes watching Gavin’s.
He pumped himself in long, lazy strokes, watching me with a dark, lust-filled gaze. Then he placed the broad head of his cock against my lips.
“Open for me.”
I obeyed. My mouth created a warm, wet suction over his flared head, and I could feel his eyes on me, watching, surveying my work.
Licking and sucking against him, my mouth made obscene noises, and occasionally I’d let out a little moan. Gavin stayed still and quiet. Ever controlled, ever calm.
Pleasuring him felt like a gift, a privilege. He’d made me work to earn his trust, always holding a part of himself back, and now, here in his bedroom, he was more mine than he’d ever been before.
Gavin’s large palms on either side of my face forced my mouth deeper onto his cock. “All of it.”
“So bossy,” I murmured around a mouthful of cock.
“You like it.”
He was right. It was almost as if I couldn’t become aroused without his barking commands. Poor Cooper never stood a chance. Dear God, why was I thinking about Cooper while Gavin’s cock was halfway down my throat? I was pretty sure I needed therapy. But then Gavin surged forward, pushing past my gag reflex, and all thoughts of the younger Kingsley were forgotten.
Forcing a breath through my nose, I relaxed my throat. I was aroused, slightly alarmed. And a whole lot turned on.
Gavin was so patient, too much so, while I felt ready to combust.
“Good girl,” he said. “Love the way you suck me off.”
Just when I began to wonder if this was the only thing on this evening’s agenda, Gavin pulled me to my feet, his hot erection pulsing between us.
“Turn around.” His voice was raw, urgent.
I faced the bed and Gavin pressed his chest against my back, the wall of firm muscle guiding me to the edge of the mattress where I bent forward, resting my upper body on the bed while he loomed over me.
I heard the tear of a condom packet and imagined him wrestling a condom onto that beast of a cock. No easy feat, to be sure.
A sharp smack sliced through the silence as his palm made contact with my ass.
