by Maya Rodale, Caroline Linden, Miranda Neville, Katharine Ashe
“You okay?” His voice wasn’t steady.
“So okay.” She moved on him and laughed in exultation. This. This pleasure. This intensity. This completely, irresponsibly wild act of rebellion from her careful, cautious life. She needed this. He held her butt and pulled her snugly onto him and she clung to his shoulders. But he was so big and in this position she couldn’t feel him where she needed it the most. She pressed to him in frustration. Closer. Closer. Not close enough.
“Oh, ohh. I can’t—I—Take me down.”
“Take you—”
“To the ground. Please.”
He took her to the ground in the grass beside the path. All around were night sounds, and him between her thighs and inside her, and crazy, unbelievable pleasure. He thrust into her fast and hard, just like she wanted it, their mouths ravenous and hands urging. It didn’t take her long. She came in a frantic frenzy of pleasure. He drove into her and groaned deeply.
“California Blake.” He dipped his head beside hers. “Where have you been all my life?”
Chapter Ten
Heaven
She had prickers in her butt. Rather, in her ass. Whatever the terminology, this would not be easy to explain at the Free Clinic.
She winced as Piers helped her to stand.
“What’s wrong?” he said. “I didn’t hurt you. Did I?”
“Nope. Not in the least. The opposite.” She tried not to cringe. “It’s embarrassing. But I think I’d better go back to my room and take care of it.”
His hand tightened around hers. “What is it? Tell me.”
“I think I got some … well … prickers … in my … um…”
He was obviously trying not to smile.
She glowered “Don’t you dare laugh.”
“I won’t. I’m really sorry.” He drew her into his arms. “However sorry I am, though, I’m not letting you go so quickly just because of this.”
“Just because of this? It stings like crazy.”
“Did I mention that I’m a doctor?”
“A doctor?”
“Mm hm.” He kissed her temple, then beside her mouth.
She tilted her face up to let him. “You are not.”
“Sure am. Got my MD right before the MBA. Figured it’d make me more marketable.”
“You’re a Prescott. That’s all you need to be marketable.”
“Okay, I’m not a doctor.” He kissed her below her ear in the place that made her unsteady inside, and hot, despite her stinging butt and the remnants of orgasm lingering in her.
“Would you believe I was pre-med in college?” he asked.
She shook her head. “You weren’t.”
“For three years. I wanted to be a doctor. Every summer during high school and college I volunteered at my uncle’s free clinic.”
Her throat was abruptly thick. “Your uncle has a free clinic?”
“In North Philly. Always in the red. Family scandal. Nobody mentions it.” His hands on her back felt like a dream. “Now let me doctor your battle wounds,” he said low and seductively. “Then we’ll come up with some ways to entertain you that won’t disturb the—ah—area.”
“Entertain me?”
“And me.” He grinned, a gorgeous smile of pure sexy fun. It should make her laugh, not sweep the air from her lungs. She forced herself to chuckle. In response, he kissed her on the mouth, a long and increasingly lush kiss, his hands holding her tightly, as if he actually enjoyed simply kissing her. He was the perfect hookup guy. The perfect wedding party fling.
“Let’s go to your room,” she whispered.
“Right this way, ma’am.”
He took her hand and led her into the house through a back entrance. They ended up in an unlit stairwell in the part of the building that was still under renovation. As she ascended the first step, he touched the small of her back.
“Take care,” he said, his palm secure on her.
She stalled. “What are you doing?”
“Nothing. Supporting you.”
“S—Supporting…?” Air wouldn’t come.
“California?”
She couldn’t see his face very well. She reached out and found him in the dark.
His chest. Her fingertips. Only that contact. But she felt it everywhere. Beneath her ribs.
“Wow,” she whispered. “Wow.”
His chest expanded roughly beneath her fingertips.
He pushed her back to the wall and covered her mouth with his. She put her hands in his hair, then all over him. In less than two minutes, a condom wrapper was open, her thighs were wide, and he was brushing aside her flippy skirt. He picked her up and pushed inside her.
“Ohh.” She closed her eyes on the darkness. He filled her entirely. Perfect.
“California,” he said gutturally, and shoved her up against the wall with the force of his thrust.
“Again,” she moaned. “Please, again.”
He gave it to her again, and again, rough and fast, his hands gripping her hips, forcing her onto him. Sweat slicked the insides of her thighs. She slid, rode him, and came hard in a shower of sensation. He strained into her, and she felt him jerk inside her.
Loosing one hand from her hip, he grabbed the back of her head and kissed her hungrily, like he wanted her. Still. After orgasm. She wrapped her legs around his waist. Their kiss devoured.
Eventually she had to gasp for air. He pressed their brows together.
“Best”—she panted—”wedding party sex”—smiling deliriously—”ever.”
His breaths seemed to catch. In the close silence of the stairwell, she heard him swallow hard. “Right.” The word sounded short.
With great care he drew out of her and set her feet on the floor.
Oh, no. What kind of jerk was she?
“Um. What I mean is…” She smoothed her skirt over her thighs. “I’ve never done this before. Wedding party hookup sex, that is. This is a first for me.”
“Is it?” His voice was very low. He hadn’t moved away. She wished she could see his eyes.
“Yes.” She tried to keep her tone casual. “Have you?”
“No.” In the dark he touched her cheek with unerring accuracy, as though he knew exactly where her face was. He kissed her mouth. Softly. On her swollen, sensitive lips, the gentleness was breathtaking. “Only with you,” he said and kissed her again tenderly.
She told herself she didn’t need to believe him. She just needed him for the weekend.
Praying he couldn’t feel her hands trembling, she flattened her palms on his chest. “What do we do now? Next?”
“Whatever we want.” His lips brushed hers, softly again, as if he were trying to seduce her. “How’s your ass?”
“My ass?”
“The prickers?”
“I—I forgot about them.”
“You forgot about them.” She practically heard him grin.
She slapped a palm over her mouth. “I can’t believe I just admitted that. Your ego—”
“Is feeling mighty fine at this moment.”
“Do you still want to play doctor?” She could feel her cheeks flaming.
“If you’re the patient, most definitely.”
This time they made it to his room. He opened the door and touched her elbow to guide her inside. The moment when he hadn’t done so—last night in the limo—bothered her more than ever. He seemed too confident to be the jealous type, and she’d made it clear she thought Dick was a creep. But Piers had been so distracted—upset?—that his habitual gentlemanliness had disappeared.
He switched on a light. Decorated with historical elegance like hers, his room however was a suite: luxurious, with a king-sized bed, a separate sitting area, and a gorgeous antique desk upon which sat only a sleek laptop. No clothes littered the floor. No coats hung on the backs of chairs. No half-finished bottles of water dotted the dresser, only the room key he’d just placed there.
“Wow. You’re so … neat,” she mumbled.
&n
bsp; From behind, he slipped his arms around her waist and bent to kiss her neck. “I travel all the time,” he said against her shoulder. “I hate hotel rooms.”
She turned her head and he lifted his.
“You travel all the time but you hate hotel rooms? What kind of life is that?”
“Not much of one.” He curved his hand around the lower part of her butt. The skirt bunched in his fingers. “Take this off and lie down on your stomach.” He released her and went into the bathroom. “I think there’s a first-aid kit here.”
Abruptly nervous again, she did as ordered. She shouldn’t be nervous, but she now discovered that furtive, explosive sex in public places was a lot easier to handle than a bedroom scenario. “Find anything?”
“No antiseptic.” He came back into the room, halted, and looked directly at her bare behind with such stark appreciation that she couldn’t help smiling.
“So…?” she said.
He seemed to shake himself from a stupor and opened a cabinet. “How about vodka?”
“I’ve had more than enough to drink already today.”
“I mean for the prickers.”
“You’re going to bathe my wounds in vodka?”
“They do it in Russia.”
“Is that true?”
“I don’t know. Probably. I’ve never been wounded in Russia. I said it to impress you with my worldly experience.” He palmed two tiny bottles. “Chopin or Grey Goose?”
“What’s the difference?”
“One was a composer. The other is a bird.”
“Chopin.”
He sat on the bed beside her, and she watched the fluid flex of muscles in his chest as he passed his fingertips over her lower back.
“Nothing here now but red marks,” he said, dousing a cotton ball and dabbing it lightly over her lower back where her skirt had ruched up while he’d been driving into her on the ground. The alcohol was cool on her heated flesh, and only stung a little. “Would you like me to call the desk for some Benedryl?”
“It’s not that uncomfortable now. Does it look bad?”
“Not too bad.” His touch was incredibly gentle.
“You’re an excellent medic. Thank you, Doctor.” She smiled against her shoulder.
“You are so beautiful.” She could hear the restraint in his voice.
“Even with a rash from prickers?”
“Even so.” His hands bracketed her thighs near the top.
“What are you doing?”
“Entertaining you. As promised.” His fingers dipped to strafe her clitoris. She sucked in air. “And me,” he said and caressed again. She watched him, her body tightening as he stroked. He circled her entrance and her eyelids fluttered closed as she tilted her hips up, feeling him. Wanting him moving in her again.
“Let’s do it again,” she whispered, astounded at herself. She’d never been this forward about sex. Apparently throwing caution to the wind meant abandoning it entirely. “Now.”
“I could mount you like this,” he said. “From behind. It would be easier on the area.” His voice smiled.
She’d never done it like that. There was something dominating about it that’d always made her squeamish. But her world was spinning from his caresses. “Do you want to?”
“I want to be with you any way you’ll allow it.”
“Yes.” She pushed into his touch. “Yes. Do it.”
“What happened to ‘Do me’?”
“Me. It. Just do. Please. Now.”
“Your wish…”
He did it. He did her.
He reached for a condom. Then, pressing her knees apart and drawing up her hips, he penetrated her in one, steady, agonizingly slow thrust. They groaned together.
He stroked into her again, and again, caressing with his fingers, trapping her between his hand and his cock. She heard herself panting and backed against him hard. But he drew out, controlling the pace, never giving her everything, taking her slowly from needing him to craving him.
“Wow,” slipped through her parted lips. “You’re good at this.”
“I was thinking the same of you.” His voice was low, strained. “I’ve got to have you.” He gripped her hips in both hands and dragged her onto him and finally let her have his entire cock. She shuddered uncontrollably. She couldn’t believe it, but she was coming. Already. With nothing but him inside her and the rhythm of their thrusts. He went deep. Incredibly deep. Touching her core. She clutched him. Tightening. Tighter. Imploding. Pleasure everywhere. She cried out.
He withdrew from her. But she hadn’t felt him finish.
She turned onto her back. Taking her up in his arms like a rag doll, he dragged her onto his lap. He entered her again and tangled his hands in her hair, and his gaze claimed her features one by one. Gripping his shoulders, she sank onto him. He kissed her.
They did it like that for a long time. She didn’t know how long, but she’d never had a man inside her for more than the few minutes it took them both to come, and sometimes only him. Piers didn’t seem to be in any rush. He stroked her hair back from her face and kissed her mouth and neck and moved in her in a long, slow, sensuous rhythm, as if the pleasure for him wasn’t in orgasm but in being joined with her like this. When finally she climaxed again, he was watching her face.
“California, you are incredible. I can’t get enough of you.”
She clung to him and let the shudders ripple through her and told herself that they were only words and that words couldn’t hurt her.
“Did you?” she said softly beside him.
Piers’s veins hummed with energy. He couldn’t sleep. No rest for the wicked. Especially not for the wicked whose years of wickedness were swiftly coming to an end.
But he’d thought he was alone in wakefulness.
Hands tucked under her cheek, she had curled up on her side beneath the sheet, disguising the beauty of her body. The lids drooped over her dark eyes. But wariness lurked in them.
“Did I what?”
“Did you really throw the chair through the fifty-seventh-floor window?”
This was it. Truth time. And when he told her, there was every chance she’d bolt.
“No. I left the building and told the driver to take me anywhere in the city that my grandfather had never been. Turned out he’d never been to a lot of places.” His smile arose from deep in his chest. “That was a good day.”
She stared at his mouth. “Tell me why you went to work for your grandfather.”
He looked up at the ceiling. “When my brother was fifteen, he ran away from home. He was an unusual kid, genius intelligence and always acting out against our grandfather. Still, Grandfather was already grooming him to become his successor, enticing him with gifts and driving in the guilt one toy, one bike, one expensive electronic gadget at a time.” The anger he’d felt on behalf of his little brother back then stirred again in him. “But J.T. wasn’t wired that way. When he disappeared, my mother flipped out. My father was still recovering from his first heart attack, so I left Stanford in the middle of the semester and drove to every place I could imagine my brother would be. It took me weeks to find him. He was in a very bad way. On the edge of doing serious harm—to someone. So I promised him I’d take over his destined place in the family’s business if he promised to never disappear again. We made a deal: if he always told me and our parents where he was, we wouldn’t tell Grandfather.”
“You saved his life.”
Piers ran a hand over his face. “I don’t know. Maybe. He’s still unpredictable.” He chuckled. “But he’s okay now.”
“When did he get okay?”
“He joined the Marines when he was nineteen. When his tour ended, he went into the Secret Service. And three years ago he saw our grandfather for the first time in years. It went fine.”
“So.” Her voice was soft. “After that, why did you keep working at Prescott Global?”
He turned his face to her. In the dim lamplight that shadowed her eyes, wit
h her hair falling over her shoulder, she took every word he knew and made them mean nothing.
“Maybe you like it,” she said, “or you wouldn’t have stayed for so long.”
“I like winning.”
“You could win at something that’s good for other people. People who aren’t rich stockholders, that is.”
“You make it sound simple.”
“It is. You have no idea how fortunate you are, Piers. You have money, education, and influence. Unless you turn into a lying drunk like my father did, I don’t see how anything stands in your way of doing what you want.”
“I’ve been thinking that lately, actually.” She had inspired it. But he had to end the worst lie right now. “How did you get so smart?” he murmured instead.
“I read.” She shrugged a naked shoulder and he wanted to bite it. Then the rest of her. He wanted to win her.
“While you’re working?” he asked, because otherwise he’d say, “I funded your project and bought you the ticket to England,” and he would not win her. This independent, wary woman would not like having been played as his party favor. That’s how she would see it, no matter how he apologized. His gut ached.
“It’s one of the perks of the job.” She gave him a sparkling smile. “The bookmobile is much more work for the same pay. And the hours are insane. I’m doing a lot of overtime.”
“I give you back your question: why do you do it?”
“A few years ago our house burned down and we lost everything. Other than my sister’s beautiful face, the only things I missed were my books. There are people out there who can’t afford an e-reader or a trip to Barnes and Noble or even Wal-Mart. Those people deserve to be able to escape their troubles for a few hours in stories, just like the rest of us.”
“This is the first time I’ve escaped in years.”
“If you read books you could escape every day.”
He smiled. “Pride and Prejudice?”
A tingly dance started up in Cali’s stomach. He paid attention to her when she spoke. Men didn’t often pay attention, not even when they wanted to have sex with her, and never after sex.
