Trainwreck 2 (Trainwreck #2)

by Nelle L'Amour

  “Relax, Gloria,” he commanded. “Trust me.”

  He splayed his long fingers on my jutting hipbones, rotating my hips to follow his. I chugged my martini, and as the velvety liquid coursed through my bloodstream, I felt myself loosening up. Soon I was rhythmically moving with him as if we’d danced together forever. His undulating movements were fluid, sensual, and controlling. Boy, did Mr. Agility know how to move!

  A waiter passed by with a trayful of cocktails. Plunking my depleted martini glass on the tray, I grabbed another drink, not knowing what it was. I polished it off in two gulps, in time to return the emptied glass back onto the tray. I reached for one more. Jaime gripped my wrist forcefully, holding it back.

  “Careful, Gloria.” Jaime’s voice whirled in my ear as the room started spinning around me. Was this some kind of special effect? My favorite new song, “Blurred Lines,” began to play. I was totally into it, singing along at the top of my lungs.

  “Do you think I’m a good girl?” I asked Jaime, slurring each word.

  “Come on, let’s get of here.” Jaime’s voice took on urgency.

  “No!” I protested. “I just want to dance.” I looped my arms around his neck, brushing them along his silky tousled hair, and glued my forehead to his. My hot breath caught his, and I started to move wildly, bumping every part of me against his rock-hard body. My hips. My butt. My boobs. Without losing physical contact, I pulled off my shoes.

  “Don’t need these!” I chirped and tossed them deep into the crowd.

  “Let’s go. Now!” ordered Jaime.

  Before I could protest again, Jaime yanked my arms off his neck, grabbed a hand, and dragged me through the crowd. Dazed and dizzy, I tottered behind him, barely managing to keep up with him.

  I passed by Vivien and waved at her. She fired me a scathing look. I was confused. Everything was a whirling blur.

  Finally, we were outside. The cool, crisp air enveloped me but did little to bring me to my senses. The world, which revolved around the devastatingly handsome Jaime Zander, was still spinning out of control. I felt myself swaying. Thank goodness, this gorgeous hunk of manliness was holding me up, his muscled arm clamped around my waist. He slipped his spare hand into his jeans pocket and pulled out his cell phone. He fingered the touch-key screen and I heard him mumble, “Orson, I need the car brought around to the entrance of the club immediately.”

  “How do you feel?” Jaime asked upon ending the call. His voice was tender.

  “Like shit,” I murmured. Nausea had settled in. Bile was rising to my chest. Oh God, please don’t let me throw up in front of him! Please! NO!

  The next thing I knew, Mr. Zander was scooping me up in his arms and loading me into the back seat of his Rover. He cradled me in his lap, his hard length pressing into my backside, and let me lean my head against his chest. Though his chest was pure steel, the softness of his cotton tee was comforting.

  “I’m sorry,” I rasped, barely able to get out the words as I fought back nausea.

  “Don’t be.” He smoothed my hair along my scalp and then twisted my long platinum braid around his fingers.

  “Rihanna’s underwear!” I mumbled, the events of the night whirling around in my head.

  “Don’t worry.” He pressed his warm lips against my forehead. Even in my drunken stupor, his touch zapped every fiber of my being.

  I gazed up at him. Gah! There were two of him! Double the gorgeousness. “Do you have an identical twin?” I slurred.

  “Ah, my Gloria.” He chuckled. “You’ll soon find out that I’m a one and only. Just like you.”

  The muffled sounds of late night traffic in the city that never sleeps drifted into my ears. Somewhere during the ride back to the hotel, everything faded to black.

  CHAPTER 5

  Jaime Zander was pounding into me. His thick pulsing cock going to the hilt. Hitting my magic spot again and again. Driving me insanely wild. I moaned with ecstasy and dug my nails into his flesh. He was on top of me, the weight and strength of him holding me prisoner.

  “Let go, Gloria. Come for me,” he barked, his hot breath in my mouth. He grinded faster and deeper, each stroke bringing me closer to the edge. I clung to his biceps as the muscles of my core began to convulse. Inside my body, a spiraling tornado was taking everything in its wake. My head was ringing, spinning out of control.

  The loud ringing wouldn’t stop. Reality set in, and I realized it was my room phone. It stopped before I could answer it.

  Drenched in sweat, I pried my eyes open, one at a time, and after blinking several times, took in my surroundings. I was back at the hotel…in my bed. My head was pounding and my tongue was stuck to my parched, foul-tasting palate. It must be morning; a ray of sunshine beamed through the blackout curtains. I had kicked off the fluffy duvet sometime during the night. Splayed on the bed, I was draped in a sexy lavender lace baby doll with matching bikinis.

  Wait! How did I get back here? What happened to my little black dress? My lingerie? My shoes? The events of last night spun around in my head. Slowly, the fuzziness gave way to clarity. Fuck! I got drunk last night! I vaguely remembered Jaime Zander escorting me out of the club and lifting me into his SUV. And after that, I couldn’t remember a damn thing. Oh, God! I must have passed out.

  My breath caught in my throat. Had that cocky asshole brought me up to my room and undressed me? My mind raced; my heart raced. Holy, holy shit! Had he taken advantage of me and fucked me? Was that a dream or was that for real? A wave of panic swept over me.

  The phone on my nightstand rang again. This time I managed to reach for it with an outstretched arm. It was Nigel, my driver.

  “Good morning, Miss Long,” he chimed, his voice bright and chipper. “I shall be waiting for you at the entrance of the hotel at ten o’clock as you requested.”

  My brain still in lockdown, it took me a long moment to remember what I was doing today. Gloria to brain. Come in now. Yes. I was going to visit my beloved mentor, Madame Paulette. Thank goodness, Nigel had called because I hadn’t arranged for my customary wake-up call. Raising myself to a sitting position, I freed my tongue from my dry as cardboard palate.

  “Thank you, Nigel.” And then I remembered something else. “A boy or girl?”

  “A six pound four ounce baby girl!” exclaimed Nigel on the other end. “Her name is Annabelle.”

  “That’s wonderful, Nigel!” Despite my sorry state, a smile spread across my face. “Congratulations! I’ll see you soon.”

  After returning the phone to its cradle, I made myself a mental note: Make sure the gift is sent today. I had already purchased an expensive stroller along with a travel bag full of baby care necessities. It gave me pleasure knowing that Nigel’s daughter would appreciate everything. After my visit to Madame Paulette, I was also going to give him the rest of the day off so he could spend it with his daughter and new grandchild.

  The mental diversion was short lived. My mind jumped back to Jaime Zander. A shudder rippled through me. I’d made a total fool of myself and now, I was fucked—in maybe more ways than one. How could I ever face him again?

  I picked up the phone once more and dialed room service. I ordered a large pot of coffee—something I desperately needed if I was going to make it through the day. At least, I had some time to figure out how I was going to handle Jaime. His pitch meeting wasn’t until late afternoon tomorrow. Getting out of the city might give me some clarity.

  My visit to Madame Paulette was something I looked forward to as much as I dreaded. It would probably be the last time I saw her. She was, along with Kevin, the most important person in my life. With a heavy heart and hangover from hell, I dragged myself out of bed and staggered to the bathroom.

  I glimpsed myself in the bathroom mirror. My reflection startled me. I looked as bad as I felt. My skin was greenish and my eyes red. Waves of nausea were still rolling through me. I brushed my teeth to freshen my stale breath and popped a couple of much needed Advil into my mouth. I desperately needed
a shower. As I lifted my baby doll top over my head, the alluring scent of Gloria’s Secret men’s cologne invaded my nostrils. I instantly buried my nose in the silky fabric. The intoxicating scent of him was all over it. My stomach knotted. Oh God, had he? Panicky, I yanked off the matching bottoms. Scrunching them in my hand, I checked my body for more evidence. There were no signs of bruising, and neither my breasts nor my privates were sore or engorged. I took a whiff of the bikinis—oh no, the distinct scent of him again! Yet, there was no trace of any physical telltale sign of him on the crotch. I impulsively rubbed my cleft and put my wet fingers to my nose. The distinct sweet smell was definitely all mine, but I still couldn’t be sure. Maybe he washed off all the evidence. Damn him! Damn me for losing control!

  The hot, pulsing shower was revitalizing. I arched my head back with eyes squeezed shut and let the jets of water spray my face while I lathered up my body with the fragrant soap. Nothing felt out of the ordinary except the lingering nauseous feeling. Turning off the faucet, I stepped out of the shower and wrapped a giant bath towel around me. I studied myself in the bathroom mirror. I looked better than I’d thought I would. The hot shower had done its magic. My porcelain skin was glowing, and there was only a trace of broken capillaries in my duo-colored eyes. I re-braided my long blond wet hair and applied a dollop of lip-gloss. I wanted to look groomed for Madame Paulette. Appearance was important to her.

  Returning to the bedroom, I noticed for the first time that my little black dress and lingerie from last night were missing. And where the hell were my shoes? Again the question: Who the hell took them off me? I searched the drawers, looked under the bed, and scanned the closet. Gone. Gone. Gone. I glanced at the alarm clock on the night table. It was already nine forty-five. Nigel would be here soon to take me to Connecticut. Hastily, I donned a lacy gray bra and bikini set, matching garter, and sheer gray silk hose. A lady-like A-line gray dress and pewter pumps followed. I always matched the color of my underwear to what I was wearing. It was something Madame Paulette had taught me to do. My life lessons from this incredible woman were many and meaningful. Sadly, she would soon be gone.

  The coffee still hadn’t arrived. As much as I craved a major dose of caffeine, I couldn’t wait for it. Grabbing my coat, purse, and a canvas bag full of goodies that I knew Madame Paulette would adore, I skirted out of the room and headed to the elevators.

  “Hey, wait up!”

  That deep, sexy voice. Fuck! It was him! Jaime Zander. What the hell was he doing here?

  Bristling, I kept marching without a single turn of my head. I could hear him jogging down the corridor. He caught up to me, and we stood side by side waiting for the lift. Staring straight ahead, I refused to look at him. Not even a little glimpse.

  Unlike yesterday, the elevator took its time arriving. In fact, it felt like an eternity. Maybe it was stuck somewhere—explaining why my coffee had never arrived. My stomach tightened and I was losing patience. He started whistling—“Gloria” of all songs. Bastard! He was trying to distract me and get my attention.

  “Stop that!”

  “You don’t like my whistling?”

  “I don’t like you.” And then it just came flying out. “Did you fuck me last night?”

  “Gloria, I would never take advantage of you in that state. In case you don’t remember, I carried you up to your room and then you threw up all over yourself.”

  Holy crap! Mortification raced through me. I kept facing the elevator, too embarrassed to look him in the face.

  “There’s nothing to be embarrassed about. You’re just not used to losing control.”

  I never lost control! Never! What had this man done to me?

  “By the way, I gave your dress and undergarments to the valet for cleaning. They should be back in your room by five. Unfortunately, someone else may be wearing your shoes. You may not recall this, but you took them off and tossed them while you were dancing with me.”

  I couldn’t care less now about my eight hundred dollar designer shoes. Every muscle in my body clenched. The reality of him undressing me and seeing me naked consumed me.

  “Don’t be ashamed. You have a beautiful body. While taking off your vomit-coated dress was not exactly something I enjoyed, peeling off your silky stockings from those long smooth legs and tearing off that sexy bra and garter were quite a treat.”

  I felt my cheeks flare. In fact, my whole body was heating up. Come on, elevator. Get here already. His words got in the way.

  “Your breasts should be among the wonders of the world, and your perfectly preened pussy was a sight to behold. I wouldn’t mind getting a taste of it some time. When was the last time you got laid?”

  “None of your damn business!”

  “That’s what I thought.”

  He was infuriating me. What’s more, he was setting every fiber of my being on fire, especially the area between my thighs. Where the hell was the elevator? I had to get away from him. Finally, a car arrived. As soon as the doors open, I stomped into it. I slammed my palm against the “L” button, but the doors wouldn’t close. That’s because the asshole was leaning against one, his arms and legs seductively crossed.

  For the first time this morning, he was in full view. All six foot three of his manly gorgeousness. Today, he was wearing a fringed tan suede jacket with tight faded blue jeans that hung low on his narrow hips, a plaid flannel shirt that exposed his chiseled pecs…and cowboy boots! Mr. Urban Cowboy! God, he looked sexy! Right out of GQ. And on top of all that, his hair had that perfectly tousled, just-fucked look going on.

  An unnerving thought shot into my head. Did he fuck someone else after he left me? A beautiful supermodel? Vivien? Maybe he kept a room at this hotel as a fuck pad. Lots of successful men did that kind of thing.

  My eyes narrowed. “Can you please either leave or get in?”

  That cocky half-smile curled on his lips. “I just want to get a good look at you.” His sexy denim blues gave me the once-over. “You look lovely, Gloria.”

  I grimaced. “It’s Ms. Long.”

  “You’re not very polite, Ms. Long.”

  “Thank you,” I grumbled. Screw you!

  “That’s better.” With a thrust of his hips, he strode into the elevator and stood right next to me. The doors closed instantly, and we began our high-speed descent. I inhaled his intoxicating scent but kept my eyes focused straight ahead.

  He broke the silence. “Oh, by the way, did you like the negligee I picked out for you?”

  My face flushed crimson and my stomach muscles scrunched. In my mind’s eye, I could just see the wicked grin on his face.

  “It sufficed,” I murmured through gritted teeth. Actually, the lacy lavender peek-a-boo set from our “Sweet Temptations” baby doll collection was one of my favorites.

  “I hope you’ll be a little more enthusiastic about my pitch.” His voice dripped with sarcasm.

  I pressed my lips together and said nothing. To my relief, he remained silent for the rest of the ride. We reached the lobby in no time, and the elevator doors re-opened. As I moved to dash out, he fisted my braid, holding me back. The nerve of him! Fuming, I turned on my heels to face him. My eyes met his equally intense gaze.

  “Are you visiting another ad agency today?” he asked. “There’s really no need to.”

  His presumptuousness got under my skin. Should I tell him that I was visiting a dozen more, just to make him think he had a lot of competition?

  “No,” I finally said.

  “Good.” With a satisfied smile, he let go of my hair and accompanied me to the hotel entrance, keeping up with my slower than normal pace. There was no physical contact between us. Whatsoever.

  It was another beautiful New York City winter day. Sunny and not too cold. The usual array of cabs and limos crowded the driveway.

  “Do you want to grab breakfast with me?” he asked.

  God, a coffee would be so good. Even if I had to put up with the pompous asshole. I glanced down at my watch.
Ten a.m. “I can’t. My driver will be here momentarily.”

  “What about lunch?”

  “I’m visiting someone out of town.”

  “Oh, a boyfriend?”

  “Yes!” I shouted the word and didn’t know why I lied.

  “Happy Valentine’s Day!” He winked.

  My jaw clenched. “Same to you.”

  Thankfully, before Mr. Nosy and Infuriating could probe further, Nigel pulled up to the curb.

  Wearing a warm smile, he jumped out of the town car and opened the back passenger door. As I slid into the car, Jaime Zander never took his contemplative eyes off me. His lips twisted again into that maddening grin as the car rolled away. Fuck. I bet he saw right through my white lie…the tinted windows…and my coat.

  CHAPTER 6

  The drive along the scenic Merritt Parkway to Connecticut was relaxing. I alternated between catching up on e-mails and gazing out the window. A fine layer of snow dusted the lawns of residences we passed by. Snow was something I rarely saw living in Los Angeles.

  I would be lying if I said I didn’t think about Jaime Zander. I couldn’t get him out of my head. He was having an effect on me like no other man had before. I’d never met a man who could reduce me to a nervous wreck with just the wink of an eye. Make me feel so totally out of control. It scared me. Big-decision-maker-me didn’t know how to handle it. Why the hell didn’t I just tell him to fuck off? And forget about the pitch for my business? Walk away from him while I had the chance? The truth: He had gotten under my skin. I was undeniably drawn to him—both to his sexy good looks and his challenging personality. He was as tempting as he was toxic. Even now, just thinking about him, I was quivering. I sat back against the soft leather seat, glad to be away from him.