Solid Gold Seduction (The Drakes of California)

by Zuri Day

  It was true, and both knew it when they raised their heads and looked into each other’s eyes.

  “Earlier,” Charli began, her voice a whisper as she still panted slightly, “down at the table, you said that you wanted to do something. Right before the pilot called. Do you remember?”

  He nodded. “We just did what I was thinking about down there. But there’s something else.” He eased a finger between them, over the bodice of her dress to the dip that emphasized her cleavage until he reached the outline of her hardened nipple and tweaked it, all the while looking deep into her eyes.

  She swallowed, her breath coming in short bursts. “What?”

  “I want to make love to you. Would you like that?”

  “It’s been awhile for me. I don’t know if I can satisfy you or—”

  “Shh, don’t even go there. You are beautiful. You are perfect. And everything about you turns me on.”

  On those words, they raced into another kiss: tongues swirling, bodies touching, hearts beating as one. And all the while Warren’s beast kept growing, throbbing.

  This time it was Charli who broke the kiss, reaching up to run her tongue around his ear before she whispered, “You’re so hard.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  She slid her hand over his trousers. “Oh my God.”

  He hissed. “Baby, I’m about to burst.”

  “Well, we can’t have that,” she said, stepping away from him. “Shall we take a shower first?”

  His answer was to lead them into the master bath.

  They disrobed on the way, clothes dropping wherever they were pulled off. By the time they reached the marble masterpiece, both were naked.

  Warren’s irises darkened as he looked at her. “You’re more beautiful than I imagined.”

  Charli looked down. “And you’re...bigger than I feared.”

  For Warren, a rumble of laughter bubbled just below the surface.

  “I’m serious. Is that thing registered, because it is definitely a lethal weapon!”

  “Ha!”

  She joined in the laughter and her jesting took some of the tension and nervousness out of the moment. Warren started the water and once it reached the right temperature, they stepped in. As soon as he ran his fingers over her nipples, following the water droplets down her body to the V-shaped paradise below, things became serious again.

  He leaned in, kissed her, even as he continued to rub against her with his finger, until she relaxed and spread her legs farther apart, inviting him in. He continued rubbing steadily, rhythmically, until her pelvis picked up the melody and joined the dance. His tongue swirled to match this beat and soon Charli pressed her hand against his, wanting more.

  It was what he wanted, too. He placed a finger inside her, and then another. Flicking his thumb over her hardening nub, he lazily rubbed his hand between her dewy folds. He felt her muscles contract against his fingers, an act that hardened him even more. He hoped that she was ready for him, because he couldn’t wait. Not one. More. Second. He lifted her up amid the sprays from multiple jets and placed her against the cool tile. When he stepped immediately between her legs, she wrapped them around his waist. Her nipple was right where he wanted it—directly in front of his mouth. He sucked it in, then nipped and licked, driving her into a frenzy. Reaching down between them, he grabbed his dick and placed the tip against her.

  She moaned.

  “Are you ready?”

  “Yes,” she eked out between breaths. “Please.”

  He pushed ever so slightly, noticed the resistance and backed away. Over and over again, he teased her with his tip, infinitely patient, amazingly gentle. Inch by delicious thick inch until she again began to move her body, encouraging him to go where he wanted, to take what he needed.

  “More!”

  Oh, yeah. He lifted her a little higher, pulled out to the tip and then slid in, but this time he was able to take it all...the...way. Umm. For a moment they were still, her adjusting to the throbbing gift inside her, him relishing the feel of her tight delight. Then the dance began in earnest: hips gyrating, pelvis thrusting, kissing breasts and mouth and neck and wherever their mouths could land.

  The thrusting continued: hard, rhythmic, fast, slow, in, out, ahh. Charli felt a swirling sensation building up inside her, a yearning that threatened to take her over the edge. Tears sprang to her eyes as she gripped his shoulders. He sensed the nearness of her release, stepped back, grabbed her hips and pounded. Methodically. Deliciously. Until she burst.

  Her legs were still shaking, still wobbly as he turned her around and entered her once again. He feasted upon the pert, round ass he loved so much, became acquainted with every aspect of it as he pushed toward his own climatic finish. And when it came he felt that he’d exploded into a thousand pieces—with Charli’s name engraved on every single one.

  Chapter 27

  Farmers got up early, and Charli was no exception. So even though she was in a pricey hotel suite instead of the back bedroom on Reed Ranch, her eyes opened shortly after the sun came up. She shifted, felt a strong, long leg pressing against hers and instantly everything came back from the night before. Lying there, staring at the ceiling, a wave of emotions overcame her. Jumbled thoughts fought for dominance in her brain. She’d just experienced the most magical night of her life. So why did she feel so bad about it?

  Because try as she might to change deeply ingrained feelings and beliefs, they still persisted. She’d slept with the enemy.

  With a sigh, she rolled out of bed and headed to the luxurious bathroom, the same one that last night had been a backdrop for heart-stopping sex. Now she could barely look at the tub where the delicious decadence had continued after their time in the shower. She walked into the large, tiled shower stall, turned the water on full force, as hot as she could stand it. Her head went under the powerful showerhead and soon tears joined the water pouring down her face. She stayed that way, confused, thinking. Her rational mind said otherwise but years of conditioning made her feel as though she’d let her grandfather down.

  She sensed Warren’s presence and seconds later, felt the draft from the shower door opening.

  “May I join you?”

  His voice was deep and a bit raspy from sleep. She closed her eyes, her mind conjuring up an image of how he must look: towering, toned, rock-hard and ready.

  She squeezed her eyes tight and cleared her throat, hoping that she could speak and not choke on a sob.

  Without turning around, barely moving, she uttered, “Umm...I’ll be out in a minute.”

  A long pause and then, “Okay.”

  The soft click of the shower door closing felt like a dagger in her heart. No matter what her grandfather had told her about his family, no matter how the man who she thought hung the sun and the moon had felt about his ex-partner, that partner’s grandson, Warren Drake, had been nothing but kind, honest and amazing to her.

  Highfalutin city slicker.

  Self-absorbed, bourgie possums.

  “That’s what Grandpa would say,” she whispered. And then there was Griff. Nothing in life is free. Have you considered that money may not be the means of exchange he has in mind? He’d said it after Warren bought the cows and reiterated it during their conversation about the gold, adding that with the Drakes’ money and influence, not even that contract could be trusted. Reaching for the shampoo, she worked the frothy lather into her hair. Another voice spoke into her conscience—her own. How has he treated you? What have you seen?

  A thoughtful neighbor, who’d put a gate in his fence and given her both the code and key even when he didn’t have to.

  A generous soul who when she’d lost one cow had replaced it with two.

  A spontaneous man who scheduled a fun helicopter ride into a fabulous city and treated her like a queen.

  A skilled lover who’d played her like an instrument, who’d pleasured her body while touching her soul.

  Convincing actions, but memories of another man—Char
les Reed—continued to leave her tormented. How could she be disloyal to his memory by being with someone from the family he’d so despised? When her father had left to pursue a new relationship, and when her mother had eventually gone on to do the same, it had been her grandfather, Charles Reed, who’d remained the constant in her life. Who’d nurtured her confidence and helped raise her self-esteem. While some little girls might have been with their moms baking or hitting the mall, Charli had been on the farm feeding chickens and learning to shoot. Other children had cats for pets. Charli had cows. Almost every person save her dear grandfather, Griff and their friend Miss Alice had let her down. And certainly every romantic interest. Until Warren. Torn didn’t begin to describe her emotions. Then it hit her, the crux of her dilemma.

  Charli would have to decide whether she wanted to embrace the present, or live in the past.

  * * *

  Something was wrong. But what? Warren pulled on the fluffy white robe the hotel provided and walked to the window. Wisps of color—orange, red and various blues—announced a new day. The city below was still sleeping, but a steady stream of cars passed each other on the Golden Gate Bridge, commanding and mysterious, in a swirl of fog. So far above the picturesque scene, Warren felt a part of it yet removed, as though he was in his own world. That’s how it had been last night, him and Charli in their own personal paradise.

  So what happened? Obviously something. When he’d opened the shower door, it had shown in every fiber of her being. In the way she’d not turned around, the way he’d seen her shoulders tense. When it came to life and its circumstances, Warren handled things pretty analytically, in black-and-white. So when he thought about him and Charli he felt they either liked each other or they didn’t; they wanted to be together or they would not. One thing for sure, what had happened between them was not something that could be pushed under the rug. They were going to have to talk about what happened last night, and what was happening now.

  He listened. The water was still running. He walked to the bathroom. “Charli, I’m going to order room service. Would you like a traditional American breakfast with meat and eggs, or would you rather have pancakes, French toast or something light?”

  “I’ll have what you’re having,” was her response. “Except anything with tomatoes. I’m allergic.”

  With that, Warren was able to focus his thoughts on mundane things like ordering breakfast and sending their clothes out for an express cleaning. Then he picked up the newspaper that had been slid under the door, walked to the sitting area and sat to begin reading.

  He opened the paper, turned the pages, but he didn’t read a thing.

  * * *

  Figuring she couldn’t hide in the bathroom forever and having washed and scrubbed and pondered and procrastinated until she was about to drive herself crazy, Charli finally turned off the shower, donned the bathrobe hanging on the back of the bathroom door and walked out into the room.

  Warren looked up and began filling the air with sound. “Good morning. I ordered breakfast. Wasn’t sure what to get you so I kind of ordered everything: eggs, bacon, hash browns, toast. Pancakes, fruit, orange juice and coffee. I also sent our clothes out so they can clean them.

  “Oh, and I—”

  “Drake.”

  “—called the company and they said the pilot—”

  “Hey!”

  He stopped.

  “Slow your roll, cowboy.” A quick almost-smile. “I agree with you.”

  Finally, Warren realized he’d been rambling. That he was nervous had not even occurred to him, since it rarely happened. “Agree with me about what?”

  Charli walked over to the sitting area and sat on the edge of the chair facing him. “About what happened between our grandfathers years ago not being important now.”

  Warren sat silent, his brow slightly creased.

  “I just had a come-to-Jesus meeting in the shower.”

  “You went to...Jesus?”

  Charli’s smile became genuine, as was her chuckle. “You’ve never heard that saying? It’s where you come to terms with someone or something and resolve it. I’ve decided to resolve the negative, unwarranted feelings I’ve held for your family.”

  Looking out the window, she continued, “Everything I know about the Drakes, or thought I knew, came from my grandfather. For me, you guys were almost make-believe, like the people on TV. Heck, I even saw y’all on television and in the society pages of the San Francisco Examiner and the Oakland Tribune. No one I knew lived behind gilded gates, lounged in mansions or owned companies. I’d see articles on your father and uncles, see pictures of your mother in the society pages and believe that what my grandfather said was true.”

  “Which was?”

  “It’s...not important.”

  “I’m just curious.”

  “Well...let’s just say...the description would normally start with something bad and end with something worse.”

  “Ha!”

  “I’ve always been blinded by my love for him, my unequivocal devotion. But now I can see some of his anger for what it really was.” She looked at Warren. “Jealousy.”

  “Your grandfather seemed to do well enough. That you still run the dairy farm he and my grandfather started is proof of that.”

  “It may look that way, but the truth of it is that things were very hard for my grandfather economically. Even now, finances remain precarious. My grandfather was a proud man, didn’t like to ask for anything, didn’t like for people to—” she used air quotes “—meddle in his affairs. And he didn’t ever want me to believe that he was anything less than successful, unbeatable and amazing. I didn’t find out about the financial shape of the farm until after he died. That’s one of the reasons why I moved back to the farm. To help Griff. And to save what Grandpa and your grandfather started.”

  Warren listened intently, elbows on legs, fingers steepled beneath his chin. “I always assumed you grew up on the farm and had always lived there.”

  “I did grow up there, practically, and always was there a great deal of the summer. But remember, I told you that my parents lived in Oakland and that’s where I grew up.”

  “Right.”

  “After college, I thought I’d outgrown the farm and stayed in Oakland, even though my parents had long since moved away. But then my en—then things happened and...my grandfather became ill and all of a sudden moving back to the farm looked very appealing.”

  “What happened in Oakland?”

  His voice was soft, caring. Charli had never talked much about her failed engagement, had kept the hurt and shame bottled up inside her, finding some comfort in working the land. But now she realized these secrets made up part of the hard shell around her heart. The heart that was yearning to know love again. The heart that wanted to experience it with Warren.

  “During my freshman year of college, I met my first true love. He was a junior, smart, charming, a great catch. I felt lucky to be his girl. We dated throughout my college years and I was faithful, even though I began hearing rumors that for him that wasn’t the case. Especially after he graduated and began working in San Francisco’s financial district.

  “But I loved him, had never loved another man. When he asked me to marry him, I said yes.”

  After a long moment of silence, Warren prompted, “And then...?”

  Charli stood, went to the window and beheld a beautiful day, totally opposite the ugly memories that she now relived. “Then he got another woman pregnant. A woman I later found out he’d been seeing almost the entire time we’d been together. High school sweethearts. He did the right thing—”

  Warren snorted.

  Charli turned to him. “Right thing for her, and their child. He married her. I was devastated. Ran back to the farm to lick my wounds and heal.” She walked back over to the chair and plopped down. The journey down memory lane had been exhausting.

  “What about Cedric?”

  Charli tensed. “What about him?”

&
nbsp; “I saw how you reacted that night at the dance. Something happened between you two. It’s all right if you don’t want to tell me what it was.”

  A knock provided Charli a reprieve. Warren went to the door, directed the waiter on where to place the cart and signed the check. He poured two glasses of orange juice and brought one to Charli. Neither made a move for the food.

  She accepted the glass. “Thank you,” she said, taking a thoughtful sip. “I’ve known Cedric from childhood and he’s always been a pain. His uncle worked for my grandfather and Cedric would often accompany him to the farm, to harass me, mostly. One day, he cornered me in the barn and tried to assault me. If not for the fact that one of the stable hands walked in at that moment, I wouldn’t have been a virgin when I met my ex-fiancé.”

  Chapter 28

  She’d said that Charles Reed was proud. Warren could see that his granddaughter was just like him. The stories about Cedric and her ex had been delivered casually, but Warren could imagine how much courage it had taken her to share these hurtful memories. It warmed his heart, made him feel special that she trusted him enough to share them with him. It also made him want to makes sure that she never felt that kind of pain again.

  “So what about you, Drake?” she said, her offhanded, sarcastic tone firmly back in place. She walked over to the food-bearing cart. “Since you’re not married, you must have a sob story or two.”

  He joined her at the cart. They fixed their plates and walked over to the dining table. “I’ve had my share of heartbreak,” he admitted as they began to eat. “But mine started at a much younger age.”

  Charli cocked a brow.

  “Her name was Ramona, and I was all of nine.”

  “How old was she?”

  “Sixteen.”

  Charli rolled her eyes. “Oh, please. No one loves at nine years old. That’s infatuation.”

  “You couldn’t have told me that. She was my nanny’s daughter. Smelled like flowers, wore long braids like Janet Jackson did in Poetic Justice and could beat me at ‘Mortal Kombat.’ This chick was the business! I was in love!”