She curls up on the sofa, tucking her feet beneath her. “You’re in a good mood this evening for a man who took a dunking.”
I sit down next to her. “Unless you trained the dogs to do that, I’m not going to take it personally.”
She gives me a wicked look. “Are you so sure?”
Suddenly, I’m not. I think it’s time to change the subject. “What are you doing tomorrow evening?”
She eyes me speculatively. “Why?”
“Do you still enjoy concerts?”
“Who doesn’t?” She acts as though the mere thought is inconceivable.
So far, she’s not pulling away. I plunge on. “Remember how you used to go around singing ‘Midnight Train to Georgia’ when we were kids?”
She cocks her head to the side. “Go on.”
“I got us two tickets to see Gladys Knight at Chastain Park Amphitheatre tomorrow night.” I wait for her response.
She shrieks loudly and throws her arms around me. I feel droplets of wine splash my shirt.
“Oh, no!” she runs to go get a cloth.
“It’s no big deal!” I yell after her. “At least it’s not red.”
She returns and dabs at my shirt. “I’m really sorry. I was just so excited.”
I take the cloth from her hand and place it on a table, still holding her hand to my chest. “I was hoping you would like it.” I can feel my heart beating rapidly beneath her hand. I wonder if she can feel it, too.
Her look is questioning. “Your heart is beating so fast...”
I pull her closer, our faces only inches away. “It shouldn’t be too hard for you to figure out why.”
Lightly, our lips touch. I am tossed back to the day before my seventeenth birthday, with all of the feelings and uncertainties of a teenager. However, I am not a young boy anymore. I thread my fingers through her hair, deepening the kiss. My tongue probes her mouth, reveling in its sweetness. I pull her on top of me, her fiery hair spilling around me in waves, tickling my skin. I can feel my erection pushing against her softness, wanting more.
I hear Barkley barking upstairs. Rebecca pulls away from me just in time as Holly runs down the stairs and hurls herself into my arms.
I hug her tightly. Her face is wet with tears. “Hey. What’s going on?” I ask, rocking her soothingly.
She tucks her face in my neck. “I had a bad dream.”
“What about, sweetie?”
“I dreamed someone hurt you,” she tells me as she curls her legs up, making herself as small as possible. Barkley and Elvis sniff her toes in concern.
I pat her head. “I’m fine. Nothing’s going to happen to me.”
She turns to look at Rebecca. “Rebecca, too?”
I hate making that promise. Rebecca takes the pressure off me.
“Of course not, sweetie,” she says as she sits back down, taking her in her arms. “We’re both okay. Don’t you worry about us.”
I share a look of gratitude with Rebecca. We need her.
Soon, Holly is asleep again. “I’m going to take her to bed.”
Rebecca nods. “I’ll let myself out.”
At the door, she stops. “What time?”
“Be ready by six,” I tell her as I pick Holly up in my arms. “Remember. It’s an outdoor venue, so dress for the heat.”
She smiles. ‘I always dress for the heat in Atlanta.”
With that, she is gone. I kiss the top of Holly’s head as I look after Rebecca as she leaves. It’s scary, being so close to something you want so badly and afraid of losing it. I can’t think about that. I just have to do it. I will never forgive myself if I don’t.
***
I knock on Rebecca’s door. I am stunned when she opens it. She looks beautiful. Her auburn hair is swept up behind her head, subtle gold earrings dangle from her ears. Her green sleeveless halter elegantly frames her bare shoulders, plunging slightly to reveal the shadow of her breasts. It is tucked into jeans that hug every delicious curve of her body. Her shoes are simple nude sandals, her toes peeking out in a neat French manicure. I have to hand it to her. Nice.
“You look great.” Why do I feel like a teenager again? I look down. “Nice shoes.”
She grins. “Did your mom teach you to say that to women?”
“No. My mom always taught me to tell the truth.” I laugh. “Let’s try this again. Nice shoes.”
She poses from one side to the other. “Thank you.”
I offer her my arm, “Let’s plow! ”
I lead her to the limousine.
“A limousine?” She looks down at her attire. “Are you sure this is okay?”
I take her into my arms. “You are perfect.”
She still looks uncertain as she slides in. “It just seems like so much.”
I take a seat after her, and the chauffer shuts the door. “When you see the traffic, you will understand.” I grin. “I just decided to take it up a notch.”
“You never were one to do things halfway,” she says, a far off look on her face.
“Penny for your thoughts?” I ask.
She gives me a sideways look. “Pennies won’t cut it.”
I don’t know why that makes me feel odd, but it does.
We drive the next few miles in silence. As we approach the site, the traffic thickens.
Rebecca begins to look about anxiously. “Are we going to be able to make it in time?”
I reassure her as I text a few “business details” to my assistant.
“That line is long!” she exclaims as we begin circling the venue. She turns and gives me a curious look. “Why are all of those people carrying flower arrangements and candelabras?’ She takes another look. “They have coolers, too.”
I just smile. “Don’t worry about that.”
We pull up to a separate entrance. Rebecca looks at me questioningly, and then an understanding seems to dawn on her. “This is the VIP entrance,” she says.
I extend my hand, helping her out of the car. “Would you prefer to go back and stand in the lines we saw?”
She shakes her head with a smile. “I think I could get used to this.”
We enter the amphitheater. It is built naturally into the hillside; the rows along the embankment are huge slabs of stone.
“It’s beautiful,” she says beside me, her eyes full of awe.
“Did you know it was built in 1944?” I ask her. “It’s Atlanta’s oldest music venue, my favorite.”
I lead her down to the front where the tables are.
She grabs my hand. “I’ve never seen anything like this before.”
Tables fill the pit and orchestra section. Many sport white tablecloths and candles with elaborate spreads. “So now you understand the flowers and coolers.”
She looks at me, her eyes wide. “But we didn’t bring anything.”
I lead her to one of the front tables. A wine bucket sits off to one side, a bottle of chardonnay chilling. Roses create a fragrant centerpiece, the lights from the candles on either side flickering on the petals. Several covered trays line the edge of the table. There are two place settings, the china and silver, an elegant accent to the white tablecloth.
“Is this our table?” she asks in wonder.
I nod as I pull out her chair. “Do you like it?”
She looks around the amphitheater, taking it all in. Lights from the other tables create a warm glow, almost like Christmas lights during the holidays. “It’s all so surreal.”
I take my seat next to her and pour us both a glass of wine. “I love concerts here. The patrons truly make every performance an event. Everyone tries to one-up each other. It’s kind of a thing to show off and have the best table. I’m almost surprised they haven’t added an award for the best table to each show,” I say with a laugh. “Some people can get crazy competitive.”
She glances at me. “I think you may have won this one.”
I give her a sheepish grin. “I may hav
e had a little help.”
Rebecca feigns surprise. “Really? Do tell.”
“My assistant, Kris, may or may not have had a hand in putting this together.”
Rebecca gives me a reproachful look. “So she spent her Saturday off making our evening lovely?”
“Don’t feel too sorry for her. Gladys Knight is one of her favorites, too. I bought her a table in the orchestra and paid her overtime.” I smile as I look up to see Kris waving to me from her table. Her husband, mother, and three children are with her. From the looks of it, she has a nice spread, too. I give her a “thumbs up”. I need to remind myself to thank her on Monday. She really outdid herself.
Rebecca looks around. “All of the other tables have several people. Ours is just two.”
I shrug, trying to be nonchalant. “I bought the whole table for us. I wasn’t much in the mood to share you with anyone.” I cringe as I hear my own words. I think I sound like a rich snob.
She gives me a sideways look, obviously catching that. “You don’t seem the type to flaunt your wealth.”
I feel a blush staining my cheeks. When you strip all of the money and props away, I’m still that seventeen-year-old kid who’s trying to get the girl.
Rebecca grabs my hand. “It’s lovely. Thank you for making this evening so special.”
I feel relieved. At least she understands why I did it.
I pass a tray of cheese and olives to her. “Dig in. We have coq au vin, baby carrots, and seasoned potatoes to follow. Last of all, crème brûlée.” I hold up the torcher. “Here’s hoping I don’t burn the top!”
She giggles. “Maybe you should let me handle that part.”
I pass the torch to her. “I’m not going to argue with you.”
“Smart move.” She grins wickedly. “It’s been a lovely evening, so far. I’m not in the mood to see you fail on my favorite dessert.”
“So you’re doing it for selfish reasons?”
Rebecca pops an olive into her mouth. “Yep! Don’t you dare screw up my dessert!”
At that moment, the curtains open and the crowd erupts in applause as the seventy-five-year-old woman struts out onto the stage in stiletto heels and with an attitude.
For the next two hours, we are in our own little bubble amidst all of these people. How can it be to feel like you are the only one in the room with 7,000 people in the same place? I don’t know, but it seems like it is just the two of us.
Rebecca leans into me, resting her head upon my shoulder as Gladys Knight sings “Memories”. Her fingers curl into mine. I hear her sigh. This moment is everything to me. I love being able to make her happy. I hope it’s not just the concert that is the reason for her contentment.
When she begins to sing “You’re the Best Thing That Ever Happened to Me,” I know what I have to do.
I reach my hand out to her. “Shall we?”
Her eyes show her cautious happiness. I don’t want her to be cautious. I want her to know that we can be happy together. “Trust me.”
I pull her close, tucking her head into my shoulder as we start to dance. Other couples around us begin to do the same.
We sway and twirl together in unison. I breathe in the scent of her hair as we dance. It is clean, with a musky undertone. Her cheek is soft against mine. For a brief moment, I feel complete.
Once the concert is over, we walk hand-in-hand to the car that is waiting for us, saying nothing. In the limousine, I take her hand and give it a gentle kiss. “Did you enjoy it?”
She turns shining eyes to me. “It was perfect. I never knew you were such a romantic.”
“You bring it out in me,” I tell her. It’s true. I’ve never been much of a player, and most women have been more interested in my money than in me. This is real.
We arrive home. I walk the babysitter out and pay her. When I return, Rebecca is nowhere to be found. I wonder how I could have misread the situation so badly. I could have sworn she was feeling the same way, too.
I rake my fingers through my hair, wondering if I should go to the guesthouse and talk to her. I decide against it. If this is how she feels, what is the point? I’ll just be making a fool of myself. I already feel foolish enough.
I as I near the master bedroom, I notice a soft glow coming from the doorway. The light flickers subtlety, dancing on the walls. I enter the room to find Rebecca standing by the bed wearing nothing but a black lace bra and panties.
“I thought you should see them on me and not the lawn,” she says provocatively.
I can’t think of anything to say. She moves towards me with deliberate sexuality. I feel myself harden with desire. Her nipples jut through the peek-a-boo lace. She runs her hand down the side of her neck to her breast, her fingers tracing the outline of her nipple.
I can no longer stand the distance between us. I reach for her, pulling her into my arms and lowering my lips to hers, tasting their sweetness and needing more. I trail kisses down the side of her neck. Her skin is soft and smooth as I run my hands along her back, pulling her closer so that she feels my need pulsing against her.
She steps away. I feel barren without her. Why is she pulling away? “Did I do something wrong?”
She smiles knowingly. “No. I just can’t unbutton your shirt with you pressed up against me.”
The light bulb goes off in my head. I believe I need to trust her and follow her lead.
With steady hands, she begins unbuttoning my shirt. I feel the rush of air against my skin as she pushes my shirt aside, tossing it to the floor. Slowly, she undoes my belt, unbuttoning my jeans and lowering the zipper. I am almost free. She kneels on the floor, pulling them down, and I kick them off, finally rid of the restrictive clothing.
She gazes up at me. Her eyes are dark with desire. Her hand envelopes my shaft, sliding in a steady motion, coming to rest at the base. I watch as she takes me into her mouth. I feel the warmth of her lips, her tongue flicking against the tip. I thread my fingers through her hair, reveling in the sensation of her lips around me. She draws me into her, sucking on me until I feel as though I am about to explode.
I stop her, even though I don’t want to. “You need some attention, too.”
She rises to her feet. “How can I argue with that?”
I toss the covers on the bed aside as she searches for something in her purse. It seems odd to me. “What are you looking for?”
She whips out a condom. “This!”
I get it now. I’m glad she thought of that. I’m not even sure if I have any. In my rush of need, I don’t think I could have stopped myself to look for one.
She places it on the nightstand as she lowers herself to the bed, leaning up on one elbow. “Where were we?”
The candlelight basks her body in a warm glow. I trace the outline of her collarbone with my fingers, trailing down to the mounds of her full breasts. “You seem to have too many clothes on.”
She rolls over on her back and gives me a devilish look. “What are you going to do about it?”
I pull the strap of her bra down to expose her bare breast, taking it in my hand. Her nipple is taut between my fingers. I lower my mouth to it, sucking it in. My teeth graze the tip. She moans in pleasure. I unhook the front clasp, freeing her breasts to my hungry gaze.
Her hips begin to move rhythmically, begging to be satisfied. I cup a full mound in my hand, toying with the nipple as I suck on the other. Her back arches in an instinctive urge to be closer, deeper.
I feel her hands run along my back, her fingernails digging in with each rush of pleasure. I feel her hips rocking against me in need. I want to be in her, too. I need to be in her.
My hand slowly trails down her stomach, down to cup the warm mound that is the essence of her. I finger the wet folds that envelope her, delving into their depths until I find her clit. It throbs against my fingers, a hardened point of desire.
With every stroke, her hips move faster. Her fingernails dig into my sho
ulders, urging me to continue as she moans with desire.
Her breathing becomes ragged. I know she is close. I ease away slightly as I reach for the condom. With shaking hands, she helps me. Finally, I am able to enter her. She is so warm, so responsive, inviting.
I thrust into her with a hard passion. Her eyes widen as I reach deep within her, filling her. Her hands grab my buttocks in urgency, pulling me into her deeper with every thrust. I feel her clit rubbing against me. I swell even more in response. I plunge into her faster and faster. Her breathing quickens, and she arches her back, almost freezing as I push her to the limits of ecstasy. She cries out in satisfaction. At that moment, my world explodes in a frenzy of need until we are both spent.
I pull Rebecca close as she rests her head on my chest. “I can hear your heart beating,” she says as she plays with the hairs on my chest. “That was incredible. The whole evening was incredible.”
I prop myself up on one elbow, looking down at her. Her hair is mussed against the pillow. “I wanted it to be special. You’ve always been special to me.”
She reaches up, tracing her fingers along my jaw. “You could have any woman in the world. Why me?”
I kiss the palm of her hand. “You’re my unicorn.”
She looks up at me in confusion. “Unicorn?”
I kiss her forehead. “Long story. Let’s just say I’d given up believing anything like this could be real, possible.”
She snuggles into the crook of my arm as I lie back. “I understand. I didn’t think I could ever feel anything like this, either.”
I reach up and blow out the candle, returning to cradle her in my arms. I hear her breathing slow to an even pace as sleep overtakes her. As my mind drifts off into darkened corners, I know one simple thing. I always have, and always will love her.
CHAPTER 12
Rebecca
I roll over sleepily, content as I think about last night. I stretch out an arm to Cameron’s side of the bed, but he’s not there. Hazily, I open my eyes. He is standing at the edge of the bed and holding the camera from my purse. The look on his face is full of confusion and anger. I jerk up, holding the sheet to my chest as I realize what he must be thinking.
Working For My Arch Enemy: Enemies To Lovers Romance Page 6
