by Pamela Yaye
“You take my breath away,” he said in a throaty voice. “And I’m crazy about you.”
He kissed from her chin to her collarbone, and a shudder passed through Geneviève’s body. Her thoughts spun and her limbs quivered. An orgasm rocked her with such force she collapsed onto the counter, panting. Her mind was spinning, so hazy she wouldn’t have been able to remember her name if Roderick asked her what it was.
Clenching his teeth, he tossed his head back and gripped her waist. Roderick moved, fast and furious, each thrust deeper than the last. He groaned, grunted and cursed. Seconds passed, and the scent of their lovemaking perfumed the air. Pressing his eyes shut, he kissed her hard on the mouth, as if he couldn’t get enough of her lips. His body went completely still, then he let out a long sigh.
Geneviève stroked his face with her hands, tenderly caressed his skin as she admired his chiseled features. Everything with Roderick was easy, effortless. There was no drama when they were together, no stress, and Geneviève couldn’t help imagining a future with him. What was he thinking about? Had he finally changed his mind about them dating, or was this just a one-time hookup that meant nothing?
His naked, glistening body was a sight to behold, and Geneviève drooled when he winked at her. Roderick strode over to the garbage, opened it and discarded the used condom. He had a flat, washboard stomach and a firm, hard ass her hands were itching to squeeze again. He pulled on his boxers, but that didn’t stop Geneviève from lusting after him.
“Can I get you something to drink?” he asked, gesturing to the stainless steel fridge.
Standing despite the dull ache in her thighs, Geneviève found her sweater dress beside the decorative lamp, put it on and leaned against the sofa. “If anyone should be getting drinks around here it should be me, not you. You’re my guest—”
Roderick cocked an eyebrow. “Are you inviting me to spend the night?”
“That depends on what you have planned for the rest of the day,” she said with a coy smile.
“You mean besides making love to you in every room inside this cabin?”
Please do! she thought, suddenly breathless. I’d love that.
Roderick slid his arms around her waist and held her tight, close to his chest. “We’ll have dinner at the best restaurant in town, and when we get home I’ll have you for dessert.”
“Or we can start with dessert,” she proposed, draping her arms around his neck. Feeling his hard, muscled body pressed against hers was a turn-on, and Geneviève couldn’t think of anything but making love to him again. “Follow me, Counselor. We have to get clean before we can get dirty.”
A grin curled his mouth. “Lead the way.”
Chapter 15
“Wake up, beautiful. Your breakfast is getting cold, and I don’t want the tostadas to get soggy.”
Geneviève opened her eyes, spotted Roderick standing at the foot of the sleigh bed holding a wooden tray in his hands and smiled. Stubble covered his chin, giving him a sexy, rugged vibe. His sleeveless T-shirt showed off muscled biceps, and his sweatpants were a perfect fit. Wanting to kiss him, she hungrily licked her lips. Images of his naked body consumed her thoughts, but Geneviève changed the channel in her mind. They’d made love twice last night, and although she yearned for him, she didn’t want to give Roderick the wrong idea. She cared about him, and wanted to have an honest conversation with him about their future before he returned to New York.
The curtains were open, allowing sunshine to pour through the windows and fill the master suite with natural light. A delicious aroma filled the air, and her stomach growled at the scent tickling her nose. Warm and snug in the fluffy duvet blanket, Geneviève pulled it up to her chin and rolled onto her side. “What time is it?”
Roderick glanced at his stylish sports watch. “Quarter to one.”
“No way.” Geneviève yawned. “I haven’t slept this late for years.”
“I didn’t want to wake you, but I got bored after my workout and wanted your company.”
His words warmed her heart. Sitting up, she belted her purple satin robe and crossed her legs at the ankles. “Breakfast in bed is a cliché, don’t you think?” she teased.
Roderick shrugged. “I wouldn’t know. I’ve never done this before.”
“But you were engaged for over a year.”
The grin slid off his face. “I know. Don’t remind me.”
Roderick set the tray down on her lap. Geneviève loved listening to his stories about his family and his colleagues at the law firm, but she wanted to hear more about his ex-fiancée. Roderick was genuine and honest—except when she asked him questions about his broken engagement. His behavior troubled her, making her doubt their connection. Was he still in love with the perky blonde? Did he want her back? Geneviève didn’t want to upset him, but she wanted to know more about his past relationships.
“How come you never cooked for your ex?”
“Because she was always on a diet, and basically lived off salads and protein shakes.”
“I can’t imagine. I love food too much to starve myself, and the last time Demi forced me to do the liquid diet I only lasted two days!” Geneviève said with a laugh.
“Good. You’re perfect just the way you are.”
She smiled her thanks. “Do you miss your ex-fiancée?”
“Yeah, about as much as I miss having chicken pox.” His gaze darkened, and he spoke through clenched teeth. “I don’t want to talk about her.”
“Why not? Because you love her, and wish you were still engaged?”
The silence was deafening. He stared at the bedroom ceiling, as if the answers to her questions were written there, and spoke in a solemn voice. “No, because every time I think about her I get a migraine, and I don’t want anything to ruin our fun-filled day in Baqueira-Beret.”
Geneviève stared down at her plate, admiring the impressive spread, but she couldn’t stop thinking about what Roderick had said about his ex—or rather, what he didn’t say. But before she could question him, he spoke, and his genuine excitement quieted her doubts.
“It’s a traditional Spanish breakfast,” he announced, gesturing to the tray with a nod. “So dig in and tell me what an incredible cook I am.”
“You made all of this? Wow, I’m impressed. I’m going to start calling you Master Chef.”
He had the biggest smile Geneviève had ever seen. Roderick had a charming personality and a generous nature, and she loved having him at her private hideaway in the mountains. For months, she’d felt as if a dark cloud was hanging over her head, but now that Geneviève was in Vielha, she didn’t have a care in the world.
Everything was better when Roderick was around, and it didn’t matter if they were watching movies, playing cards or cuddling on the couch—they had a great time together. Opening up to Roderick about her fears and insecurities last night in bed had brought them even closer together, making her feel as if they were a team, and Geneviève was glad she had him in her corner.
“This is a lot of food, Roderick. I can’t eat all of this right now—”
“You better. We have a full day ahead of us and you’re going to need your strength.”
“We do?” she said, tasting the spicy vegetarian omelet. “Where are we going?”
“We’ll go skiing this afternoon, then enjoy a world-class zarzuela show at the...”
Geneviève forced a smile. She loved the cozy rental property, and was content being indoors with her favorite attorney. For the past three days, they’d been holed up inside the cabin, and if it were up to Geneviève they’d stay in bed for the rest of the week. She relished sleeping in, taking bubble baths, writing songs and making love to Roderick whenever she was in the mood.
“We’re hitting the slopes at three, so eat up.”
His lopsided grin made her skin—and her sex—flush with heat.
&nb
sp; “And sharing is caring, so join me,” she said, patting his side of the bed.
“If you insist.” Roderick plopped down on the bed, kissed her cheek then picked up the utensils from the tray. He picked up a piece of quince with his fork, raised it to her lips and said in Spanish, “Open up, beautiful. It tastes almost as sweet as you.”
His voice tickled her ears, and he smelled so good Geneviève had to restrain herself from diving into his arms. She parted her lips and tasted the fruit. Taking turns feeding each other, they discussed their plans for the weekend, their favorite places in Madrid and the worst dates they’d ever been on. Sitting side by side with Roderick in bed, Geneviève couldn’t help imagining them living as husband and wife, and beamed when he brushed his lips against her ear. His touch was invigorating, his stories excited her and his jokes made her laugh out loud. They had shared values and interests, but above all she wanted to be with someone she could rely on, and Geneviève trusted Roderick explicitly.
Loud noises drew Geneviève’s gaze to the window. Icicles dangled from the roof, clouds sailed across the sky and the fir trees surrounding the property were covered in snow. Geneviève heard shovels scraping against the sidewalk and the distant sound of male voices. Her heart stopped. Were there reporters outside? Were they spying on her? Had someone tipped off the local press about where she was staying? Geneviève dismissed the thought. She’d sworn Roderick to secrecy, and he’d promised not to tell anyone she was renting a cabin in Vielha and she hoped he kept his word.
Geneviève wondered how her mom and sister were doing. She loved her family, but these days she felt as if she was being pulled in a hundred different directions, and she needed time to figure out her next move. Spending time with Roderick made Geneviève think about her hopes and dreams, and she was determined to regain control of her career, even if it meant making hard, life-changing decisions. “I almost forgot. I have a gift for you.”
Surfacing from her thoughts, Geneviève winked at him. “I bet you do.”
“You have a one-track mind,” he teased. “Do you ever think of anything besides sex?”
Not when you’re around, she thought, her gaze sliding down his broad shoulders.
Roderick took the tray off her lap, set it on the mahogany side table then marched into the closet. He returned to the bedroom seconds later with a grin on his mouth and a white, oversize box in his hands. “I was planning to give this to you on Tuesday night, to celebrate the success of your final show in Madrid, but you wouldn’t talk to me...”
Heat burned her cheeks as she lowered her eyes to her lap. Geneviève didn’t want to discuss what happened at the WiZink Center, but she felt compelled to defend her actions. “Do you blame me?” she asked, even though her mouth was suddenly dry. “I fell onstage in front of fifteen thousand people, and I was roasted on social media for days. I always want to give my fans a thrilling, memorable show, and I did, but for all the wrong reasons.”
“You’re being too hard on yourself. A fan grabbed you. It wasn’t your fault you fell on stage.”
Taking her hand in his, he squeezed it, then kissed her palm. Feeling his mouth against her skin made Geneviève wish they were making love again, moving together as one body, but she restrained herself from acting on her impulses, and listened intently as he spoke.
“I’ve been to dozens of concerts, but you’re the best performer I’ve ever seen,” he confessed, with an earnest expression on his face. “You’re likeable and relatable, and people root for you. I root for you, and I always will. You’re important to me, Geneviève, and I care a lot about you. Never, ever forget that.”
His voice, like his gaze, was strong, and his words heartfelt. It was hard to keep her head, to keep her wits about her when Roderick brushed his lips against her cheek, and she pressed her lips together to trap a moan inside her mouth. Roderick was part of her life now, and thinking about him leaving for New York next week made her heart ache with sadness.
“Go on,” he prompted, gesturing to the gift box. “Open it. You’re going to love it.”
I can never love anything as much as I love you. The thought made her heart race, and her pulse pound.
Her hands were shaking, but Geneviève opened the box and pushed aside the colored tissue paper. There were art supplies, Spanish audio books, a jewelry-making kit and the largest container of sweet and spicy wasabi popcorn Geneviève had ever seen. “Wow, Roderick, this is great,” she gushed, blown away by his thoughtfulness. “Especially the watercolor paints. Now I have everything I need for the class I’m taking next month at the Philly Art Center.”
The grin faded from his lips. “You’re going home? But you have concerts scheduled in Berlin, Paris, Rome and a half dozen other cities.”
“No, I don’t. I canceled the rest of the European tour, and I posted an official statement on my website and social media pages last night.”
“Last night?” he repeated, an incredulous look on his face. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because it’s my life, not yours.”
Raking a hand through his hair, Roderick blew out a deep breath. “Can we discuss this?”
“There’s nothing to discuss. I thought I could push through and finish the tour because I didn’t want to disappoint my record label, my mom or my fans, but I can’t. I’m exhausted, and if I don’t take a stand now I never will.”
“I wish you had talked to me first before you posted a statement online.”
“Why?” Geneviève tossed aside the blanket, jumped to her feet and met his dark, troubled gaze with her own. “I don’t have to consult you, or anyone else about what’s best for me. Furthermore, you’re no longer my attorney.”
“You signed a contract, and it’s legally binding.”
“And,” she prompted, “I’m not the first artist to cancel a tour, and I won’t be the last. I already feel horrible for disappointing my fans, so please don’t make me feel worse about it.”
“That’s not my intention. I know this can’t be easy for you, and I don’t want to upset you.”
Really? she thought, rolling her eyes. You have a funny way of showing it! Geneviève yanked open the closet door, selected an outfit then slammed it shut. His words confused her. One minute Roderick was telling her to do what made her happy, and the next minute he was pressuring her to finish the European tour. Why wasn’t he supportive? What had changed? Why was he making her feel guilty for finally taking control of her life?
“I only want the best for you,” he said, his hands outstretched. “I hope you believe me.”
Geneviève moved away from him. Roderick’s opinion mattered to her, but she wasn’t going to change her mind about returning to Philadelphia just because he disagreed with her. “I’m not going to apologize for putting myself first. This is long overdue, and I won’t let you or my mom or anyone at Urban Beats Records make me feel guilty for listening to my body. I’m tired and overworked, and I need a break.”
Lowering his head, he rubbed the back of his neck with a hand.
“Roderick, I’m disappointed in you.”
He stared at her for a long, quiet moment, but he didn’t speak.
“I thought you’d be more supportive,” she confessed. “Since the day we met, you’ve been encouraging me to take control of my life, and I did, so why are you giving me grief about it?”
He touched her arm, but his tender caress didn’t comfort her. Maybe I don’t know Roderick as well as I thought I did. Maybe he doesn’t care about me like he says he does. The thought troubled her, but she listened to him with an open mind.
“Geneviève, I’m sorry. I’m not trying to be an ass, but I don’t want you to do anything to ruin your career—”
Annoyed, she cut him off midsentence. “I’m more than just a pop star, Roderick. I’m a talented songwriter, and if I decide to retire from music I can still earn a comfortabl
e living.”
His eyes widened. “Retire from music? Is that on the table?”
“I don’t know,” she said with a shrug. “Maybe. I’ll decide in a few months.”
“Please don’t make any rash decisions.” His cell phone rang, but Roderick didn’t answer it. “Talk with your team before you post any more announcements on social media. You have a lot of great people in your corner, and they deserve to hear the truth from you, not online.”
Geneviève stared at him in silence.
“How much time are you taking off?” Roderick asked, scratching his jaw.
“The rest of the year. I’ll reevaluate my career once I’ve had some me time.”
Roderick whistled. “Nine months is a long break. What are you going to do with yourself?”
“All kinds of things. Improve my French, take fitness and art classes, and volunteer at after-school programs.” Giving his question more thought, Geneviève wore a sheepish smile. “I’d also love to meet Mr. Right, move to the suburbs and have a baby.”
“A baby!” Roderick repeated, raising his voice. “You’re joking, right?”
“No, I’m serious.”
“But, I thought you loved being a pop star.”
“I’ve wanted to sing and write songs since I was a kid, but I never longed for fame or fortune. It was never about that. For me, it’s always been about the music.”
Roderick wore a thoughtful expression on his face. “And now the music isn’t enough.”
“No, it’s not. I want to settle down and have a family,” she said, speaking from the heart. “Most of my cousins are either engaged or happily married, and I envy them.”
