She was thinking of something, staring out the window as she tapped her pen against her lips in utter concentration. Her eyes squinted, as if she could conjure her imaginings to life right before the scenic view. Her lips moved slightly, trying to figure out the correct order of words, making a little oval shape. My cock twitched in my jeans, so I flattened the book on top of it. The shape of her mouth would be perfect if she dropped to her knees and…
I thumbed through random pages in my book to give my shaky hands something to do. She readjusted herself, putting her pen down and picking it back up again. Then she sighed, and her full breasts rose and fell with the strength of her breath.
I’m a goner.
We remained in the same positions for over an hour. Lydia eventually switched from her notebook to her laptop, and soon, my office became filled with the sounds of her clicking away. She hummed to herself as she typed, something I would have found annoying if it were anyone else. I didn’t recognize the song, but I didn’t want to interrupt her and ask.
We had spent a very nice afternoon together. I didn’t want anything to ruin it. It felt like we’d stepped into a protected bubble, the outside world eons away from us. Nothing could hurt us if we were together. Even him.
Lydia and I didn’t need the outside world.
I hadn’t read more than ten pages and realized that I had spent the greater part of the past hour drinking in every nuance of her face and body.
Not that she had noticed.
Maybe she had noticed but was ignoring me. I couldn’t tell. She had amazing concentration skills, something I envied. Since my stress level had been so high at work due to the King James renovation, I could have done with harnessing a little of Lydia’s focus.
“Hey,” I said. The clock read three when I finally couldn’t stand it anymore and interrupted her. She jumped as if she’d forgotten she wasn’t alone. Lydia raised a hand to her chest and exhaled.
“Scared me,” she said, but her answering smile dazzled. “I got a lot of work done. Thank you for just being beside me. I felt so safe. I slid right into the zone and was really productive today.”
“Why don’t I make us something to eat?” I asked.
She raised an eyebrow, obviously impressed. “Sure, I’ve been ignoring the rumble of my stomach. I haven’t had much appetite because…well, I haven’t been hungry.”
I appreciated her attempt to save my feelings, but she needn’t have bothered. He’d ruined my appetite at every family dinner since freshman year. The year he’d returned from his first drama camp and announced to the entire family he just knew he was the next Marlon Brando.
Lydia followed me to the kitchen and placed herself on a barstool at the quartz counter, in a position where she could watch me. I placed a chopping board in front of her, and she raised her eyebrows at me.
“Oh, you’re helping,” I teased as I handed her a knife. I gave her a wink. “There are no free rides at chez Markham. Unless it’s a free ride from a runaway horse and carriage.” I rubbed my ribs that suddenly wanted to give a little throb at the memory.
“If that’s the only kind of free ride I can have, I think I’ll just pay the fare. I like how you trust me. You are a fearless man,” Lydia teased right back. I loved our witty repartee, but I should have expected it from a writer. She had a way with words.
I turned on the stove, getting the gas flame just right and turned back to her.
Enough time had passed that I felt safe in addressing the elephant in the room. “Don’t worry about my asshole brother. I’ll handle him.” She nodded, then pressed her lips together into a thin line, and I could tell that she didn’t want to discuss Tristan. She probably didn’t even want to think about him. But I wanted her to be okay, and I had to be sure.
“I don’t plan on ever seeing him again.”
“Good plan. Besides,” I wanted to make her smile again after taking it away, “you wouldn’t be the first girl to file a restraining order against him. Or the second. Honestly, you wouldn’t even make the top ten.” I exaggerated for comedic effect, and her lips started to turn upward at my blatant joke.
“Really? Have there really been restraining orders?”
“No. But I know he’s been inappropriate before. My mother once got a call from an actress named Glenis Stradivarius with her hand out, claiming Tristan was the father of her love child. She thought she deserved a payday.” I couldn’t stop myself from talking, words falling from my mouth as if my brain had suddenly lost control.
She looked me up and down and then gave a little giggle. “Glenis Stradivarius? Is that for real?”
“Stage name. Her real name was Jane Smith. Scouts honor,” I said pausing to perform the Boy Scout oath. “From Enid, Oklahoma.”
Conversation came as easy as ever. I poured glasses of wine as we chopped and diced. It also helped that we had common interests. We talked about biking, about politics. Only one topic remained off limits. And again, I wondered what this intelligent and talented woman had ever seen in my brother beyond his good looks and charm. Other than a shared passion for the arts, they had nothing in common.
“I’m not sure I should be drinking wine and doing this.” One elegant hand raised her wine glass in a salute, and I admired the rosy glow on her pale cheeks. Tendrils of Lydia’s hair had fallen from the messy bun, and she looked like an angel dropped out of the heavens to land at my kitchen island.
“Oh, come on,” I said. “It’s not like you’ve never chopped a vegetable.”
Our eyes met for a split second. Lydia’s expressive green ones were wide, her full lips pouting. An invitation to get closer if ever I saw one. I sighed, stepping behind her and placing my hands on hers. I felt electricity run through me as our bodies deliberately touched for the first time. My heartbeat accelerated, and all the cells in my body tingled.
“I don’t usually wield a knife in one hand and a glass of wine in the other.”
I breathed in her scent as my hands caressed the softness of hers. “Let me help you then.”
She relaxed against my chest. “Don’t hurt me,” she whispered.
Never.
I stopped for a moment and just held her in my makeshift hug. Both of us understanding the deeper implications of those three simple words. Both of us reaching out to each other and asking for the safe space to trust. I wanted it known to her that I would never, ever hurt her.
“I promise you can trust me,” I said.
“Just...gently.”
My mind raced, knowing that her vulnerability in the face of what had happened with Tristan was a fragile gift that I couldn’t take for granted. This woman just kept surprising me in the best ways. A few hours around her, and I had turned into a completely different person. One that I actually liked.
With my body against hers, I surrendered to tender emotions long buried and just smelled in her unique scent, allowing the heat between us to escalate.
Intense longing ripped through my body. It had been so long since I’d felt anything close. Not for years. Not since Charlie. Of course, it was my own damn fault the way I obsessed over work and threw myself in so deep nothing else mattered but closing the next deal. I pressed myself up against her back, wanting to feel every inch. Wanting every breath, every touch to relay to her how much I wanted her. Even more, how much I wanted to keep her safe from the cruel world and every asshole in it.
After several long, drugging moments, I wrenched myself away. It wouldn’t be appropriate to remain this way. In her fragile emotional state, if something were to happen between us, she needed to make that decision without pressure from me. The rational part of me argued that after dinner, I should put her in a cab.
The irrational part of me won. Silence reigned as she turned toward me, watching me as if she wanted to burn every plane of my face in her memory. She picked up her glass and drained it in a long sip.
Lydia stepped closer to me, nearly closing the gap. She reached up, and I noticed the height differentia
l with nearly a foot between us. She rose on her bare tiptoes, reaching. I snagged my arm around her back to close the rest of the distance and swooped my lips down to capture hers.
A chill swept over my skin, like I’d been doused with cold water. Shock overtook my system for a millisecond before I reacted, pulling her even closer. God, I wanted her so much. Too much.
I kept the kiss gentle at first, just a feather light touch of lips. After a few seconds, my body cried out for more, and I deepened the contact, breaching the barrier of her lips with my tongue. She met me stroke for stroke. I almost lost it when she reached up to wrap her body around me and string her arms around my neck as if hanging on for dear life.
If asked, I wouldn’t be able to articulate how long we remained in the frantic embrace, yearning, reaching and tasting each other until she pulled away. I immediately felt the loss of her heat and passion. And I wanted it back.
I exhaled.
“We should finish this,” Lydia said. “Late lunch.”
I nodded. A few minutes ago, I hadn’t been able to stop myself from speaking. Now I was unable to make myself do anything outside of desire her.
“You should stay. The night, I mean. It’s safer. In case he didn’t get the message. I want you to stay the night,” I said, babbling and too tied to the outcome. The answer. “Tomorrow’s Sunday.”
Tomorrow’s Sunday? Nice one, dipshit. I’m pretty sure she knows the day of the week.
I waited with my breath held and my heart racing. Not knowing what to do during the awkward silence, I turned and resumed cooking. Anything for a distraction. I was grateful to turn back to the stove, throwing ingredients into the pot, trying to make what I just said seem less ridiculous. We hardly knew each other. Was I acting like Tristan, just in a different way? No. There was an amazing connection between us. Something deeper. I knew it, and she knew it. So why deny it? I could feel her eyes on my back. As she considered my offer, the ensuing silence became sweet torture.
“You think?” The words were soft.
“You should.” Mine were equally low, and I couldn’t stop myself from pressing, “It’s the responsible thing to do. What if he comes back to your place?”
Lydia sighed. “I’m usually known as the responsible girl in my social circle.” I turned to her, leaving the pot on the stove to simmer. I leaned on the counter across from her.
“It would be reasonable and rational as well,” I agreed.
She giggled, and I knew she was tipsy. She tried to hide it, but she was such a lightweight. An utterly adorable, sexy one.
“What will we do?” Lydia asked with a smirk.
I raised an eyebrow. “I’m sure we can find something to pass the time.”
In vain I have struggled. It will not do. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you.
– Fitzwilliam Darcy
Chapter 11
Lydia
I sank into the downy softness of Callum’s duvet, running my fingers along the Egyptian cotton, then fisting them in the plush fabric. His huge hands, warm and strong, pulled at my jeans, leaving a trail of kisses down my stomach. And I wanted him. I wanted him to rip my clothes off and sink so deep inside me he’d own my body just like he already owned my soul.
But he toyed with me. It was a fine line between pleasure and pain. My heart pounded, my skin tingled, my pussy clenched with abject yearning. Callum worked me up in a way I’d never felt before. As if he knew the hold he already had, he smiled. Those talented hands seemed to be everywhere at once. He’d bring me to the brink of sensation and then pull back, making me wait for it. He’d make me beg for it. Our eyes met as he teased me.
My entire body tightened with pleasure.
I almost wondered if complete surrender was evident. I didn’t want it to be apparent, didn’t want him to know how long it had been for me. Such an admission embarrassed me. Years of nights spent alone.
He couldn’t know.
“I love your laugh,” he said. “Most of all, I love the rapture on your face when you look at me as if you could devour me. Could you, Lydia? Could you devour me?”
Words were inadequate, so I laughed again, not because of his compliment but because I found I really wanted to. It just felt good to laugh with him even in the most intimate of moments. It felt like we’d known each other for years. He planted his lips on mine, rolling until I lay flush with his rock–hard body. I could feel his stomach muscles against my own softness. He unhooked my bra, tossing it to the side. I heard it hit the plush carpet in a flutter of lace.
I felt raw. Vulnerable. Exposed. He toyed with me again, his hands exploring every part of my body. I thrashed, the longing and desire nearly overwhelming. It was as if an Amtrak train had left the station, chugging along at maximum speed, but instead of reaching its destination, it hurtled toward a cliff. I didn’t want to fall.
I wanted to fall.
I lifted my head to capture his lower lip with my teeth. I tugged, sweet and seductive, then moved down his jawline, leaving a path of kisses down his neck and shoulder.
In my books, the men were always ideal specimens of male perfection with six packs and rippling muscles. Although such physiques existed in my personal fantasies, I’d never really believed it existed in real life outside of celebrities and personal trainers. But here he was. An enigma. A contract lawyer for a real estate development company with abs of steel and everything a woman could ever want in a naked man.
My hands trembled as I undid his belt. Since I’d already been disrobed, I felt exposed and vulnerable. He needed to be just as bare. Callum watched me with appreciation and something else. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but I breathed a silent sigh of relief that he liked what he saw writhing beneath him. I couldn’t read his thoughts. I never could. A soft little smile tugged his lips upward, and that alone set my heart to racing.
I licked my lips, delighting in his answering groan. I was the one underneath him, but he made it sound like he’d been placed in a prone position, naked and at my whim. I tugged his pants down and then his boxer briefs, taking precious seconds to stroke my hands down his flanks. His answering hiss set my blood racing.
Even the tiniest sound from his mouth heated my passion to the point I felt no longer in control of my body. Or my raging need.
Once Callum became as bare as me, I sighed in pleasure as his hard body covered my soft one and he gave me the delicious friction of skin on skin contact.
“Come here.” I almost didn’t hear his whispered command, but my body snapped to attention with the primal part of me that wanted to do everything he said.
Everything.
“Put your hands over your head, Lydia,” he told me, and I didn’t hesitate. He caressed his big hands over my body as if he couldn’t stop touching me. Didn’t want to. Callum propped himself next to me on an elbow to give himself greater access to every inch of my skin, and I swore I could feel his heartbeat. Or maybe it was mine, thudding so loudly it consumed every rational thought. My trembling hands itched to sink into his thick head of hair, but I didn’t dare. I remained still for his pleasure.
I hissed in a breath, struggling for control. Because I had to. I wanted this to be so good for him in spite of how long it had been since I’d been intimate. I wanted it to be good for me. I wanted to brand him with my scent, my touch so that every single time he was in this damn bed, he thought of me and only me. Maybe if Callum held me close to his heart and soul, it would heal the scars on mine.
“Do you want me?” he asked.
Only with every fiber of my being.
“Yes.” A breathy whisper stole my voice. I took a cleansing inhale to calm my nerves and reached out to stroke his cheek with the tip of my finger. He turned his face to lean in and kiss it. It seemed that every millimeter of my skin tingled with a thousand nerve endings.
“How much?” he demanded, dragging his own hand down the length of my torso, down the gentle swell of my hip and over my rounded stomach
. “Be careful not to lie. If you do, I’ll know. I don’t want to have to punish you.”
Punish me? Yes, please. I stiffened the slightest bit at his warning, or was it from the wandering hand that now rested right above the place I wanted him to touch me most of all. My breasts strained, wanting his touch as well, the tips tightening into hard peaks. The thought of him punishing me excited me. Pleasure superseding pain.
As if he could read my mind, his hand left my abdomen to travel up to my breasts. Callum rubbed the ball of his thumb over the turgid nipple, circling it. I flung my body upward, striving for a firmer touch. I could feel the length of his erection against my side. I wanted to touch him, I wanted to flip over and press him down into the mattress. All I could manage was to clamp my eyes shut against the force of the sensation.
Behind the darkness of my eyelids, I felt him capture the same nipple in his mouth, sucking and nipping until I could barely stand another second. My core flooded with wetness as he blew a gentle gust of breath on the dampened flesh. I fisted the duvet with both hands to keep from thrashing. He wasn’t playing fair. Payback’s a bitch, and I couldn’t wait to get my own mouth on his fevered skin to drown him in the same swell of torment.
He let me have a moment where my ragged inhales eased, my fingers unclenched and just when I thought he’d stopped, he bent his head to repeat the same ministrations to my opposite nipple. I lifted my hips in time to the sucking motion, straining. Seeking. My legs trembled as I sought the pleasure he withheld.
“You’re very impatient, Lydia. I would have thought an author of romance would want to savor every last caress, every last kiss as if it were a…word.”
Line: Alpha Billionaire Romance Page 12
