What to Read After FSOG: The Gemstone Collection (WTRAFSOG Book 4)

by Selena Kitt

  “How did you turn off work for that long?”

  He shrugged. “I didn’t. I worked by satellite for a few hours every day. But I also had to participate in science experiments, too. I enjoyed that a lot.”

  From here the blackened sea stretched out around us, calm, rocking gently.

  I sighed. “It must be so satisfying, to see your wildest dreams come true.”

  He was silent for a long moment. “What are your dreams, Emilia?”

  I shrugged. “You know, I don’t have an answer for that besides ‘become the best badass doctor ever.’” I frowned, glad for the darkness that cloaked my face. He couldn’t see the valley of worry that had etched itself into my forehead. Though I’d finished my premed program, I was still far from that dream. It was a sobering thing, to see the thing I wanted so much in the world just beyond my reach. The one barrier was something I feared more than anything—failure, yet again. It had paralyzed me, prevented me from retaking the test over and over again until I got it right. No, I wouldn’t take it again until I’d paid the price with blood, sweat and tears, studying hours and hours a day until I had the material ingrained as a part of the fabric of my brain.

  “That’s a worthy enough dream,” he murmured. “But there’s got to be something deep inside—something you’ve always wished to do or see.”

  “Thanks to you I think I can cross a couple things off the list I never even knew I had.”

  He turned his head and looked at me. “That trip to Europe should hardly count. You deserve to go back, to enjoy it like it should be enjoyed.”

  I sighed. “Maybe I’ll do that.”

  “So what other things have I helped you with?”

  “Hmm. Flying first-class. Swimming with dolphins. Spending a day on a gazillion-foot yacht…” I took a deep breath. “Experiencing the most amazing kiss ever.”

  He was still watching me, and in the dim light I could tell he was smiling. But if he made a sarcastic remark right now, I knew I would die of humiliation. I was still reeling from the fact that I’d even put that out there. He cleared his throat. “What a coincidence,” he breathed. “I had that one on my list, too.”

  I turned my head to look at him. “Had?”

  “Yes. But I can cross it off now, too.” He rolled onto his side toward me, watching me still. “But that doesn’t mean I’m not going to try to do what I always do.”

  “Oh? And what’s that?”

  He ran his finger along my jawline before tracing the outline of my lips. His touch burned hot and cold and my lips shivered.

  “I always try to top my own personal best,” he said quietly.

  When he leaned over and kissed me, it was with the force of all the suppressed tension between us the entire day. That talk in the Jacuzzi had brought us closer together and that shower had ensured that both of us had our motors revved and ready to go by the time he first kissed me.

  He rolled on top of me, pressing me into the cushion. His hands and mouth were everywhere. And he was going fast, unbuttoning my shirt, and reaching inside. I shivered and he stopped only to reach for one of the blankets to cover us.

  He immediately went to my fly and unbuttoned it, reaching inside. I tipped my head back, gasping at the sudden, but not unwelcome, invasion. He knew how hot and wet I was, murmuring heated words about how I was ready. He tugged my jeans off my hips and I lifted them while he pulled them off, tossing them and my panties aside.

  “Emilia, you are driving me insane,” he said as he pressed his body to mine again. My hands flew up to unbutton his shirt and pull it open. He immediately pressed his bare chest to mine and we both sighed in unison. The feeling was exquisite—his hard, male body pushing against my breasts, the desperate need between my legs.

  “Adam, I want you.”

  And he kissed me, his movements growing more urgent, if that was possible.

  His head traveled down to my nipples, suckling each in turn while I arched my back to meet him, my body burning hotter with each passing minute. Then he kissed his way down my belly, across my navel. And lower.

  His head was between my legs and he nudged them open as he traced his hot tongue and mouth up the insides of my thighs. Every part of me began to throb in time with my own urgent heartbeat. I knew what was coming next.

  Adam was about to go down on me. Suddenly I tensed at the thought of him so close to one of my most intimate places—I didn’t think I would have baggage about this, since this had nothing to do with what had happened to me, but my fear of something possibly happening stopped me.

  He sensed it immediately and his head came up. “Are you okay?”

  I took a deep breath, forced myself to relax. And I let my knees drop fully open. “I’m okay.”

  He sank his head to my sex, then, his hot breath bathing my inner thighs. I closed my eyes, willing myself to remain calm, to lie back and enjoy what was about to happen, but the anxiety of anticipation was not helping. I felt his finger first, separating me while he kissed my thighs. He pushed it inside me curling it slowly so that it pressed at a certain spot—a place he knew well, apparently—and I immediately gasped, arching.

  He pulled his head up. “Bingo. Found it.”

  And all I could do was laugh. He’d tracked down the elusive g-spot.

  “They should give out merit badges for that,” he said.

  I gasped when the finger moved again. “I’ll give you a fucking gold medal if you want, just don’t stop.”

  “Emilia, I haven’t even begun,” and his mouth sank to my sex, licking along the ready flesh there, before finding the most sensitive spot, my clitoris, and sucking it into his mouth.

  The sensation was indescribable. Like his mouth was made of fire and scorching me with the most exquisite pain and pleasure at the same time. I stopped breathing and then let out a little shout that I’m sure every human being within a mile radius must have heard.

  I was coming before I even realized what was happening. The spasms came in short, intense bursts and lasted for minutes. Just when I thought they’d stop, he’d press himself harder against me or adjust his head. My back lifted off the bench and I actually—much to my eternal embarrassment—squealed!

  I couldn’t help it, though. It was just that good.

  But even though I felt like a wet rag that had been wrung out, I realized, when he settled next to me again, that he was right. We had only just begun. And now, it was his turn to take pleasure from me.

  “You liked that, did you?” he said, appearing immensely proud of himself.

  I smiled. “No. Hated every minute of it.”

  He leaned down and kissed me then. A deep, soulful kiss. It lasted for long moments and with each passing second, I could feel the urgency build within him. I ran my hands over the supple ridges of his chest, around to his back, cupping his shoulder blades, pulling him down on me.

  He didn’t break the kiss to unbutton his khakis. It was so quiet out here, with only the sounds of the boat and the lapping of the ocean around us. I heard his zipper and an icy thread of fear shot through me. It was niggling—minor—but I tried not to think about what was about to happen. Knew that my fear was silly—unfounded. Knew that afterward, I would be relieved to have it over with.

  With a deep breath, I opened my legs so he could settle between them. He was fighting himself to keep his hands out of my hair, I could tell. One hand would approach my hairline and then drop to my shoulder or back. I appreciated it, even though forcing himself to remember probably yanked him out of the moment. I opened my eyes and saw him watching me. When our gazes met, he pulled back and broke the kiss.

  He was breathing heavily. “Emilia,” he said, and then kissed me again, pulling me closer. His erection nudged against my inner thigh and he groaned, his arms tightening around me. I adjusted my hips underneath him, wondering why he was hesitating.

  “Fuck me, Adam,” I said, between clenched teeth.

  Another groan and he shifted. He was about to enter me. Th
e tip of him brushed against my heat, but then he stiffened, tearing himself out of my arms.

  I sat up, watching him in shock as he grabbed his boxer briefs and khakis, pulling them on with a face frozen in something that looked like disgust.

  “What the hell?” I said, still completely naked under the blanket.

  He shook his head, grabbing his shoes and standing up—his shirt still completely open and exposing his perfect chest.

  “This isn’t happening,” he said in a distant voice. “Get dressed. You can stay in a guest room.”

  And without waiting for me to reply, he spun and moved down the stairs to the lower deck, leaving me with my mouth hanging open in shock. I watched him go, utterly lost. My whole body shook and my face burned with humiliation. My breath came fast and anger shot a heated streak down through my entrails. How the fuck dare he?

  With jerky movements I pulled on my clothes, trying to ignore the sinking sensation that made me wish the sea would rise up and swallow me here and now.

  Had I done something wrong? Had I not responded to him the way he wanted? In my mind I retraced everything that led up to the moment where he’d stiffened and pulled away. Had I touched him in a place he didn’t like or—oh, God—had he been fantasizing about someone else? My hands shook with fury as I dressed.

  What the hell was that? I couldn’t help but wonder. It wasn’t even ten o’clock when I checked the clock in my room—the guest room just down from his. His door was open, light off, so I assumed he wasn’t in his quarters.

  What had made him react so strongly? Why that look of revulsion on his face? Was Adam screwed up about sex? Maybe he’d been abused as a child or teen. The thought turned my stomach but alleviated some of my anger. What if he couldn’t help it? But he’d obviously had sexual relationships with other women—at least one of whom I’d met, Lindsay. But maybe it was something about my being a virgin? Of course if that repelled him, why bid on the auction?

  I paced in a tight circle for a while before deciding there was no way I could keep still. I slipped on my shorts and running shoes and headed down to the yacht’s little gym. Adam had showed it to me on my tour that afternoon—a room with a treadmill, elliptical machine, weights. I could use a nice long run to clear my head.

  With my trusty mp3 player and earbuds in, I descended a deck and—after a couple wrong turns—finally found the room I was seeking. I had the light shining from the doorway to thank for being able to find it. So this was where he’d run to.

  Undeterred, I queued my music to my running playlist and headed straight for the unoccupied treadmill. I caught a glimpse of him in the corner—in running shorts and a black tank top—at the pull-up bar. So I wasn’t the only one who had decided to burn off my sexual frustration with exercise.

  His head jerked toward me just as I turned my back on him and mounted the treadmill.

  I turned it on and quickly got my pace up, upping the speed probably faster than I should have. I wanted to burn off the energy as quickly as possible. Maybe, exhausted, I could find the courage to talk to him after that.

  I was all-out sprinting—Christina Aguilera’s “Keeps Getting Better” pounding through my pulse—when he entered my line of vision, standing just in front of me and mouthing something, shaking his head sternly. I shook my head and looked down. He wanted to talk now? Hell no. He could wait. Just like I’d waited up on the top deck while he’d checked in on work.

  He didn’t move when I refused to stop running or look at him. Then he reached out and turned off the treadmill. The safety mechanism kicked in and the slow was gradual. If I turned it on again, I’d only fall, because it would start with a much slower speed than the one at which I was running.

  When it came to a stop I yanked out my earbuds. “What the hell was that?”

  He scowled at me. “You’re going too fast. You didn’t even warm up.”

  “I’ll thank you to keep your fucking nose out of my exercise routine.”

  “I’m not going to sit back and watch you hurt yourself. You can really fuck yourself up that way.”

  “Well, maybe I’m pissed off and I need a good run.”

  “Then at least do it properly.”

  Heath had told me that Adam was once a runner—probably still was—but that didn’t give him the right to butt in.

  I got off the treadmill and was about to walk off—wishing I had my computer and an Internet connection so I could log on to the game and go hack a few hundred orcs. “Emilia.”

  I spun on him, face burning. “What?”

  “You aren’t ready.”

  I knew he wasn’t talking about running now. I stiffened. “And who are you to determine that? It’s my decision. My body. I’m twenty-two years old, for chrissakes. I could go out tomorrow with anyone and—”

  “No, you can’t,” he said flatly, hands curling at his sides.

  I shook my head. “There’s no agreement if you refuse to go through with it.”

  “Oh? So you’ve just decided to do away with our impending bank transfer?”

  I swallowed in a tight throat. I needed that money, goddamn it. I shrugged. “Who says you were ever planning to pay me, anyway?”

  His jaw bulged. “I never back out of my agreements.”

  I shook my head. “I can’t take this. I opened up to you. You asked me to be honest and I was and now…” I gestured wildly. “It’s like you’re punishing me because I told you about my past.”

  He approached me, reaching out to touch my cheek. I closed my eyes and jerked my head away from his hand. “Emilia. Look at me.”

  I opened my eyes.

  “If I didn’t care about you as a person, I wouldn’t give a shit. I’d just do it. But I’m not convinced that it won’t somehow harm you. I’d never forgive myself.”

  I folded my arms across my chest. “So if not now, when? Never? Adam, I need that money.”

  He tilted his head, studying me. “You haven’t even applied to med school yet.”

  I glanced away. Could I afford to tell him the real reason? The ranch was literally in trouble. It sounded like a cheesy ’80s movie plot, but if my mom lost her ranch and the bed-and-breakfast that went along with it, she’d lose her livelihood. And if that happened, there’d be no more cancer therapy. I’d just opened up to him about my personal life, and he’d taken the decision out of my hands. I couldn’t trust him not to do the same if I told him why I really needed the money now.

  “I don’t have the whole story, I take it. Why do you need the money?”

  I stiffened. “Why should I tell you? So you can use it against me?”

  Those midnight eyes were hard. Stern. I lifted my chin, staring him down. Did I have any choice but to go along with his decisions? I let out a slow breath.

  His gaze didn’t waver as he watched me intently. “You thought you were the one in control. Now you’re realizing that’s no longer the case.”

  I exhaled suddenly, as if he’d just punched me. “I was never in control, was I? You just let me think I was. I’ve always considered myself a smart person—smart enough to get a scholarship and get the grades for medical school, but I’m not a prodigy genius and I’m not going to exhaust myself trying to outthink you. Am I just some little toy to play with until you get bored again?”

  He blinked, his arms tensed. “No.”

  “Because that’s your problem, you know. You’re bored. You’re empty. All you do is work. You surround yourself with every costly toy imaginable and keep people at a distance. Does anyone love you? Do you love anyone?”

  I don’t know if it was my imagination, but he seemed to grow a shade paler. He shifted his weight and ran a hand through his dark hair. But I turned and ran back to my room. I didn’t want to do this anymore.

  He caught me just outside the door to my room, wrapped his hand around my upper arm and pulled me around to face him.

  His mouth found mine and though I was still angry, I let him kiss me. His arms came around me and pulled
me tight against him. When we came apart, his breath was harsh and his voice was dark, husky. “One more night, Emilia.”

  I said nothing, looking into his eyes. I put my hands up to push away from him and he tightened his grip on my waist. “Please.”

  I took a deep breath. “I need something—some kind of—We can’t just keep doing this.”

  He tipped his head down to rest his forehead against mine. His eyes squeezed tight and then opened again. My throat tightened at the determination in his eyes. “One more night. I’ll transfer half the money to you on Monday.”

  I shivered. When I spoke, it was with a shaky voice. “Okay…” I hesitated. “If you still want me.”

  He slowly released me, stepping back. He took a deep breath, his right hand closing into a fist. “Were you in any doubt until I stopped it?”

  I shook my head.

  “Then don’t allow yourself to think otherwise. I want you. Very much.”

  My heart thudded in my throat. He wanted me—for one night. And then what? For the first time since entering into this entire sordid scheme, I was beginning to think I’d made a very, very bad decision. With my strict rules, my frenzied grasps at control, I’d boxed myself into an impossible situation, because my feelings for him were starting to grow too big for just one night. Just one more night.

  He stepped forward to land a chaste kiss on my cheek. “Good night.” Then he turned down the hallway and disappeared into his quarters.

  It hurt to breathe. And exhausted, I dropped onto my bed, curled into a ball and slept.

  The next morning, when I woke, we were safely docked at the slip on Bay Island, nestled against Adam’s house. We had a brief, understated breakfast sitting in his kitchen, snacking on fresh fruit and warm crepes prepared by Chef.

  He glanced at me several times but I remained mostly quiet, still feeling awkward and completely in the dark about what had happened between us the night before.

  “Do you have plans for later?” he finally said.

  I shrugged. “Apparently I’m at your disposal.”

  “No, I mean for dinner. Just dinner.”