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

by Selena Kitt

  When he withdrew, I was bent against the edge of the pool, gasping for breath. He pulled me up against him, holding me to him from behind. “You swallow some water?”

  I shot him a glare of mock-annoyance. “I guess I didn’t need to walk for a few days, anyway.”

  His chest rumbled against my back. “I can just carry you everywhere.”

  And with that he picked me up and carried me out of the pool. We dripped everywhere, as he swerved around the bed and right toward the bathroom.

  This was a dream. And I never wanted to wake up. His arms were a haven around me, soothing me, giving me a sense that I was safe within them. But my heart couldn’t help but rebel—reject the new home it was being offered. It had lived imprisoned inside its own fortress for too long. I had thrown away the key to that lock years ago. Even if I wanted to, I doubted I could muster the ability to find it.

  Later, I gnawed on my cold steak. I couldn’t get it down fast enough, I was so hungry.

  “You know, they can heat that up for you or fire you a new one,” he said, approaching in a white terry robe, his magnificent chest peeking from its opening.

  “I just made a cold steak sandwich with my roll.” I held it up for his inspection and he took a bite, nodding his head after a minute.

  “That’s not bad.”

  “Get your own.”

  “I’m not hungry anymore. For food, anyway.” He shot me a meaningful look.

  “If you are hungry for anything else, it’s going to be a while before I can recharge.”

  He glanced at the clock. “It’s not too late to go out. Do you want to go up on the patio for dessert or a glass of wine?”

  I eyed the bed longingly. “I’m worn out. I’m going to go to bed, I think. You go ahead, if you want.”

  He looked at me then. “I’m going to clear my schedule tomorrow.”

  I smiled. Had I gotten through to him? “Thank you.”

  “I’m not familiar with many of the local sights as I don’t usually play tourist when I come. But I know there are many good places to visit.”

  “From the little I saw today, there are. It will be great to finally spend some time with you.” Though whether it was in bed or out and about, I wasn’t sure I cared, at this point.

  He grimaced as if in regret. “Yeah, I’m sorry. But this was a business trip and I only get down here once a year at most.”

  Maybe I hadn’t gotten through to him after all. I struggled to hide my disappointment. “Sure,” I said, nodding overenthusiastically. “I get it.” Work always came first. That was his indirect message and I thought of Lindsay’s question, Has he stood you up for work, yet? As if any woman in Adam’s life would have to accept that in order to have him. Well, not me.

  “I think I’ll take a short walk.” He changed into his clothes and I pulled on my T-shirt and brushed my teeth, collapsing into bed. I knew damn well that he wasn’t strolling the deck. He’d grabbed a flash drive and stuck it in his pocket when he thought I wasn’t looking. He was headed to the resort’s business center to log in from there. If I were a gambling person, I would have bet on it.

  Hours later, I was vaguely aware of him coming to bed. After a moment, I felt his warm breath near my neck. He planted a kiss on my cheek before rolling over to sleep.

  Chapter Fourteen

  St. Lucia was even more beautiful the next day, as I toured it alongside Adam. We were able to spend time at a secret beach known only to the locals. And I suggested we go back to Diamond Falls so he could see it, too.

  He’d told me we should go somewhere different because I’d already seen the falls the day before. But I had insisted. And in the end, as we watched the gorgeous white waters of the cataract tumble over the colored yellow, blue and taupe rocks of the cliff, he wrapped an arm around my waist and kissed me on the cheek, thanking me for bringing him.

  The coastal water was a shade of brilliant turquoise against baby-powder white sand. And it was so warm, unlike the water off the coast of California, which was really only tolerable—and even then still chilly—during the height of summer.

  We returned to the hotel in the late afternoon and I immediately went to the bathroom to wash off the beach. I took my time, leisurely letting the warm water sluice over my body, reinvigorating me after a full day of sun and sightseeing. I had my eyes closed, rinsing my hair, when I felt a rush of air near me.

  The shower was open to the rest of the bathroom, tucked in a corner of colorful bright blue tile. I felt his presence behind me long before he actually touched me—to nudge me out of the way of the water spray!

  “That’s enough water hogging,” he said with laughter in his voice. I stepped aside but didn’t leave the shower, watching while he scrubbed himself down, washed his hair and rinsed himself of sand, salt and soap. The masculine hardness of his body was beautiful to behold. I wanted to reach out and touch it, map the valleys and hills of the firm muscles under his skin. I didn’t think I could ever get enough.

  When I looked up into his face, I saw him watching me watching him. He smiled and held my gaze, lowering his hands from where he rinsed his hair, reaching for me and pulling me against him.

  “You better watch out.” I murmured against his lips as I pressed my hands to his hard chest. “You might accidentally get a tan while you are here.”

  He laughed. “Are you mocking me, Ms. Strong?”

  “If you got a tan, you’d definitely lose your geek card.”

  He pressed his mouth to mine and we kissed as the warm water coursed over us from the rain showerhead—like a tepid tropical downpour. I kissed the raindrops from his jaw and the small curl of a rumble rose in his chest.

  “This is the fourth time I’ve showered with you and every single time I’ve wanted to pin you to the wall and fuck you,” he growled.

  “And this time?” I said breathlessly.

  He kissed me again, this time forcing my mouth open to accept his invading tongue. His hands went to my hips and he moved us to the corner of the shower. When he pulled his mouth away, my breath faltered.

  “This time I’m going to finally do it,” he said in a hoarse voice.

  He lifted me several inches off the ground and sandwiched my body between his and the cold, smooth tile of the shower. He kissed me again and nudged his knee between my legs, cueing me to open them for him. I locked them around his hips and he gasped against my mouth. “I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of you,” he murmured.

  My arms tightened around his neck as he maneuvered the lower halves of our bodies to line up properly. “Likewise,” I said.

  He entered me in one swift push and I gasped. The fit was tight and things were still tender from the newness of this intimate contact. I braced my hands against his shoulders and with a groan, he began to move against me.

  Our wet bodies slid together in sensual abandon as he drove himself in, again and again. His mouth pressed against my temple and he rocked his pelvis against mine, the pleasure scorching me.

  “I don’t know how I kept my hands off you all this time,” he groaned against my hair without once missing a beat in his rhythm.

  “Adam,” I whispered. “You feel so good inside me. Make me come.”

  He pulled my right leg away from his waist so I could leverage myself, tip-toed on the floor. My left leg remained hooked around his hips. He drove into me with longer, fiercer strokes. “You’re so tight. So goddamn tight. You feel so good. Like you were made to fit only me.” He kissed me along my brow and the rise to climax threatened as he continued.

  And with a few more fierce pushes, I was coming, gasping his name. But he didn’t stop, didn’t wait for me to catch my breath. His movements grew more urgent, more rushed until with a long growl, he climaxed, stiffening, his pelvis grinding against mine.

  After several long, silent moments, his body went lax, his face buried into my neck. “Fuck,” he breathed, his fingers pressing into my hips. “That was incredible.”

  His mouth fo
und mine and we kissed, his arms latching around my waist, cinching me against him. I pulled my mouth away laughing. “I think we just wasted about fifty gallons of water.”

  He gave me a lopsided grin. “It’s your fault for being so fucking irresistible.” He kissed me again—a dizzying caress of his lips on mine that made me want him again as ferociously as before. I pulled away, knowing that if this didn’t end now, we’d never get to dinner.

  I took the brief time away from him to contemplate us in silence. Every time I was in his presence, that rushing force of nature tore at me, made me want to release my convictions and be blown away by him, whisked away into the unknown by gale force winds from the grounding bedrock to which I clung.

  There were things I needed to do. A person I needed to become—that vision of myself in surgical scrubs, which had been so important to me for most of my youth. I was the one who was going to save others, save myself. I couldn’t get carried away by someone else’s will. My past failures notwithstanding—I closed my eyes and my fists in conviction—I had to hold on to that vision and not allow it to slip away.

  On our last night together in St. Lucia, we ate at the Place, the resort restaurant that featured flavorful Caribbean-inspired cuisine. Adam dressed in a black suit and I wore the crème-colored gown from the night of Adam’s house party, feeling again like Cinderella about to dine with her handsome prince.

  His eyes slipped over me appreciatively as we sat down. I shook my head, laughing. “You are unbelievable.”

  He smiled. “What? I was about to tell you how gorgeous you are.”

  “And how you can’t wait to get me out of this dress.”

  “I was going to save that for a little later, but since you took the words out of my mouth…Let’s just say that dessert isn’t on the menu. The last time you wore that dress, I tore off your panties. I can’t be completely responsible for my actions later tonight.” He grinned wickedly.

  “Unbelievable,” I repeated. “Making up for lost time.” And my eyes darted away. I tried not to think about the horrible letdown that would follow when we got off that plane in LA. Something tightened in my chest and—contrary to everything my head had been telling me, my heart began to wonder if I could bargain my way out of the decision to end things after tonight.

  What if we agreed to get together occasionally for sex—and maybe dinner once in a while? Would he even want it? I glanced at him as he cut into his pecan-encrusted snapper.

  He was so damn handsome in that suit—or who was I kidding—in just about anything he wore, and even better naked. And he was kind most of the time—the times that he chose to act like a human instead of a robot.

  I was ready to make a tradeoff for more time with him, on my terms.

  We lingered over our crème brulée dessert, which apparently was on the menu. He darted a pointed look at me from where his head was bent, scraping out the last of the custard with his spoon. I set aside my barely-touched dish, folded and refolded my hands on the table. It was time to stop being a coward.

  I took a deep breath. “I don’t think I could’ve picked a more perfect night for our last night together.”

  He didn’t look up but his features chilled. Setting down his empty dish, he stared at it for a long moment. “It doesn’t have to be,” he said in an even, quiet voice.

  Maybe he’d been thinking the same thing I had. Maybe he was ready to bargain for a little more time, too. He looked up and fixed me with that intent, dark stare. The air pressure thickened between us, making the barometer soar as I struggled to find my breath, to find my will. That I wanted to be with him again so much scared me. If it happened, it needed to be on my terms, not his. “It needs to be,” I said, my voice faltering.

  His brows lowered just a fraction over those piercing eyes. He took no other action but to enfold one of my hands inside his, running a thumb across my wrist in a sensual, possessive move. I swallowed, struggling to ignore the desperate thumping of my pulse.

  He seemed to be wrestling with himself, coming to some unknown decision. I braced for the myriad of possibilities of what it could be. Of them all, I could never have predicted in a million years what would next come out of his mouth.

  “We are more to each other than you realize, you know,” he said.

  My wrist trembled inside his hand, feeling so vulnerable, so delicate, so trapped. Cold fear clamped at the base of my throat. Was he about to admit to feelings for me? It was time to push him away. Far away. “Adam, we’ve had a lot of fun together and I’ve had an amazing time. But we hardly know each other. It’s only been a month—”

  “No.” He swallowed. “It hasn’t.”

  I clamped my mouth shut and waited expectantly for him to explain himself. He gave a short nod as if reassuring himself and then glanced away for a split second, his hand still wrapped around my wrist. “You once asked me why I bid on the auction. I never answered you, but I assume you still want to know.”

  I nodded.

  “I can tell you the exact moment I knew I would win that auction. Win it, not just bid on it. You’d sent me the rough draft of your Manifesto to read and we’d been up discussing it in game chat past two a.m. I’d spent most of that time trying to talk you out of the whole thing, but you wouldn’t budge and when you started to get upset, I dropped the subject. That was the moment I knew I’d prevent it in another way because I could.”

  I grew cold inside and dizzy with disorientation. What the hell was he talking about? I never had that conversation with him. That was months before we’d even met! I’d stayed up talking that night with…My jaw dropped. I shook my head.

  “What—?” I gasped.

  He watched me intently, like a child might watch a firecracker after lighting the fuse and waiting for it to explode.

  I shook my head again. “That wasn’t you. It was—” Fuck. No. No. This couldn’t be happening.

  I remembered that conversation. He’d been so adamantly against the auction. He’d tried to pick apart every single argument I’d made in the Manifesto and it had hurt my feelings. We’d sent in-game messages back and forth for hours, my wrists growing sore from all the furious typing.

  And my mind flew to the times before. When I’d poured my heart out to him about my mom and how sick she was. About how helpless I felt being too far away to care for her, to drive her to all her appointments. He’d consoled me then. Had told me I was making her proud by staying in school. That I was so close and that he believed in me.

  I was shaking and pale and static crackled behind my ears, the only other sensation where his fingers tightened over my wrist. I struggled for a breath as if I’d been underwater a hundred years. “You’re FallenOne.”

  And, almost imperceptibly, he nodded, his obsidian eyes never leaving mine. I couldn’t breathe. My eyes fluttered closed. I pulled my arm back and felt only the tiniest resistance from his hold before he relinquished it.

  I stared at the tabletop between us, my mind racing over all the things he knew. Every experience we’d shared. Our regular gaming group of four had always had a great time playing together, but Fallen and I had spent hours and hours just alone in each other’s company. Online text chat, doing personal quests in the game, sharing quest notes and items. In some ways, I felt as close a friendship to him as I did to Heath.

  To Fallen—to Adam—I corrected myself. “This doesn’t make sense. Fallen lives on the east coast—he’s a student—” I said, my voice shaking, still unable to look at him.

  He shifted in his chair. “Some of that was to mislead you. Some of it was stuff I never actually said but you led yourself to believe. Sometimes I was on the east coast for work when I logged on.”

  He knew so much about me and I knew practically nothing in comparison. On the day my mom had told me about her diagnosis, I’d turned to him because Heath was on a camping trip with his then-boyfriend. Fallen and I had chatted all night long and logged off at six in the morning. I’d cried to him. Sobbed over the very rea
l possibility of losing her. I struggled to breathe. “How—how did this happen? Why didn’t you tell me?”

  He glanced away and folded his hands on the table in front of him. “I’ve told you that I go into the game and play from time to time. I playtest my own product—I wasn’t lying about that. I get into groups and help people finish quests and get the rewards that they needed. It’s fun to see them enjoying the game so much.” He hesitated and cleared his throat but didn’t look at me.

  “One night I grouped with this Barbarian Mercenary and Spiritual Enchantress and their friend, Persephone. I could listen to your voice chat even though I was in text. I think we were working on one of the newbie quests that night. That last piece of quest armor for Fragged—I mean Heath. I’ve had fun in other groups but never like that night. I laughed so hard at all the witty jokes that were flying around as we went through that annoying dungeon. And then Heath told me about your blog, said I should go read it. So I did.”

  He shot a tentative look my way, but I was staring into my own little happy place somewhere on the tabletop. “I loved the blog and—well, I broke my own rule about not grouping with the same people more than once. That night after work when I logged in, I went looking for your group again. I seldom left the office that week. I actually looked forward to logging on with you guys every night. That probably sounds pathetic—”

  I still couldn’t look at him. “No more pathetic than my looking forward to logging on to group with you all weekend.”

  He paused, fidgeted with his laced hands for a moment. “Between reading your blog and gaming with you and then spending all that time in game just getting to know each other over in-game messages as much as we did. I got to know you. I got…attached.”

  Some invisible vise clamped around my chest and my eyes and throat stung. That same cold fear was back and this time I was numb with it. I blinked, worked my hands on the table in front of me, tried to tune out the irritating sounds of dinnerware and chatter from nearby tables. My eyes drifted to the candle flame gleaming inside a hurricane lamp on the table. What did this all mean? We were more to each other than I’d realized—but it had never been more than he’d realized. We’d been on unequal footing all along. He’d known everything and had willingly kept me in the dark. And now, he said he was attached.