Trade

by Lane, Tabitha A

  “Yeah, I saw that too.” The second girl glanced at the railings outside the house then at the striking red front door. “This looks familiar. Were you here?” She looked at the cold step and touched the back of her thighs.

  “Do you want to sit too?” Sholto took off the jacket of his Boss suit and laid it over the cold stone. He waved a hand toward it. “Be my guest.”

  She sat, angling her knees his direction. “So what’s going on?” Two women had taken time out of their lives to stop and ask him questions, and for the life of him he couldn’t see any reason not to come clean.

  “I lied.” Ignoring their wide-eyed stares and one of the women’s little gasp, he continued. “My life is a circus and I didn’t want her to lose her privacy.”

  “I’d be damned pissed if my boyfriend did that.”

  “So would I.” The second woman crossed her arms and stared him down. “That’s definitely not cool.”

  Jasper had said the same. The book of women was obviously something he’d never even opened, never mind read. “I screwed up.”

  “So you’re here waiting for her to come home? I hate to tell you but maybe she isn’t coming home tonight.” The redhead smiled. “I’m sure we could put you up.”

  “Thanks for the offer, but no. You two should be getting off home now, it’s late.”

  “Can we have a picture?” The blonde waved her phone in the air. “We promise not to say anything about your girlfriend.”

  “Sure.” He opened both of his arms wide, and the girls crowded in for a selfie. “You can put it on social media if you want, and I’m fine you saying you met me waiting outside my girlfriend’s house. I don’t know if she’ll forgive me for being so stupid as to deny us being in a relationship, but I hope she will.”

  “I do too.” The redhead stood, picked up his jacket, and handed it to him. “Good luck.”

  They staggered off down the street in their high heels, giggling and looking at the pictures on their phones. He wished Gerard was still around to give them a lift, but the street was quiet and deserted.

  A pale sliver of moon illuminated the sidewalk.

  They were right. Wherever she was, she wasn’t coming home tonight.

  *****

  Despite Max’s best intentions it still took another half an hour before she could leave. Cam tried to dissuade her from rushing off, saying she should just wait until the morning when she was rested, and she had to change out of her pajamas into her clothes.

  By the time she got home, it was almost one thirty. She looked up at her apartment from the street with a frown. There was a light on. Nerves clenched in her stomach. Joel was still in custody, wasn’t he? Surely the police would have contacted her or Kathryn if he’d got early release?

  You’re being ridiculous. It was much more likely that Sholto had forgotten to turn the light off when he left days ago. She breathed deep, opened the door and walked inside. The old house was silent and dark. She pressed the automatic light at the bottom of the stairs and climbed to her apartment door.

  As Sholto had departed in a hurry perhaps he’d neglected to shoot the deadbolt, so she just inserted her key in the top lock and twisted. As suspected, it opened.

  “Max.”

  Panic flashed through her at the unexpected sound of her name. She grabbed her bag tight to her chest, fingers curling instinctively around the keys. Directly in her line of vision, Sholto sat in an armchair underneath a pool of light cast by the standard lamp behind him. His hands were up in a protective gesture, as if he knew he’d scared the pants off her and somehow hand signals might help.

  “It’s okay. It’s just me.”

  She struggled to breathe. Her heart hammered the walls of her chest frantically. Nausea dipped and swirled, the unpleasant aftermath of her adrenaline burst. “What the hell?” She wanted to move forward but her legs seemed glued to the spot.

  “I didn’t mean to frighten you.” He stood and took one step forward. “I let myself in with the keys you gave me. I waited outside for you for a while, but then…” He stared into her eyes, and his expression changed. He reached into his pocket. “Here are your keys. I’ll go.” His jaw tightened.

  He walked to her, picked up her hand and pressed the keys into her palm. “I’m sorry.”

  “Wait. Explain it to me.” She pulled in a deep breath. Sholto being in her apartment wasn’t the same as Joel’s actions. She’d given him keys, and the moment he realized her shock at finding him there he offered to leave.

  “After being out with Cam, I needed to see you. I’d asked the driver to leave me here, and when I discovered you weren’t in, I sat on the doorstep to wait. After a while, I decided you weren’t coming back, and I had two choices—either walk the couple of miles back to my hotel or let myself in and crash until morning when I could call a car to take me back to the hotel. I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

  “I’m surprised no-one saw you.”

  “A couple of women coming back from a night out did.” He smiled ruefully. “We even took selfies.”

  “They’ll post them online and you’ll have to explain again why you were outside your friend’s house in the early hours of the morning.” Bitter rejection made her voice harsh. “I told you I’d call in the morning.”

  His eyes flashed green fire. “I couldn’t fucking wait.” His arm snaked around her waist, pulling her close against his body. “I couldn’t face another night without you. I don’t know what changed between us. I thought you ran because of the way I failed to protect my mother.”

  Max gasped. Her eyes widened. “That wasn’t…I didn’t…”

  His mouth twisted. “Jasper and a couple of strangers I met tonight put me straight. They all said that denying to the press that I was involved with anyone was more likely the reason.” The raw, naked look of anguish in his eyes stole her breath. “I didn’t want them to hound you. I meant every word when I said I wanted us to be together. I still want that.” He stroked a hand across her jawline. “Maybe I pushed too soon.”

  “You didn’t. I love you.”

  The air seemed to still. The moment stretched into infinity, with him staring deep into her eyes.

  “You never said that before.” His voice was no louder than a whisper. Then a slow smile transformed his features. “Say it again.”

  “I love you.”

  He looked at her mouth. Brushed his thumb over her bottom lip. “I always thought that phrase was overrated—that it didn’t mean anything, but hearing you say it…” his mouth lowered to an inch above hers, “makes me happier than I’ve ever been.” He kissed her lips gently, a butterfly-wings brush. “I love you too.”

  The keys tumbled from her fingers. She snaked her arms around his neck. “Fuck, I’ve missed you.” Her fingers speared through his hair, connecting with the warm hardness of his scalp. Then they kissed, his tongue thrusting into her mouth.

  She shoved the jacket off his muscled shoulders, flattened her palms over the cool cotton of his shirt. Her fingers fumbled with his tie, trying to undo it without moving her mouth from his. With a huff of impatience, he took over, tugging at the silk that bound him,

  He jerked it off and over his head.

  Her fingers worked the buttons of his dress shirt.

  “Too slow.” He ripped open his shirt, buttons flying to the corners of the room. Pulled it from his trousers, and tore it off. The desperation to be naked so apparent, her nipples peaked into hard nubs under her lace bra, hard and needy for his touch.

  Hard muscles flexed and danced under the skin, inviting her touch. But the need to be naked, to feel his warm, solid flesh won out, so instead of reaching for him, she pulled off her sweatshirt and dropped it to the floor.

  His hot gaze fell to her breasts. He drew the corner of his bottom lip through his teeth, and picked up the stripping pace.

  Her hands trembled as she took off her clothes, anticipation making her clumsy. The moment she was naked she stepped into his embrace. Her breasts c
rushed into his rock-hard chest, Her arms went around him, stroking every inch she could reach over and over.

  His velvet cock rubbed her stomach, and his hands bracketed her face, holding her in place as his tongue dueled with hers, in a desperate, hungry dance.

  She gasped, her world suddenly tilting as he swung her up in his arms, and strode into the bedroom. He dropped her in the middle of the bed. “I want you slippery. Have you any massage oil?” He checked her dressing table, picking up bottles, examining them and placing them back on the shiny glass surface.

  “I don’t. But that jar you’re holding is body lotion.” Insanely expensive body lotion.

  “Chanel.” He unscrewed the top, and dipped a finger into the fragrant shell pink cream. “This’ll do. I’ll buy you more.” He carried the flat glass jar to the bedside, and scooped out a handful, then flipped his hand over between her breasts.

  She gasped. “That’s cold.”

  “It won’t be for long.” His palms spread the cream up to her shoulders and neck, then down across both of her breasts, the slide of his firm hands covered in the slippery cream on her stiff nipples so arousing she shivered.

  With a grin, he scooped up more, rubbing her ribcage, down her quivering stomach and massaging her hipbones. Her thighs fell open, and he smoothed the cream across the tops of them, then between her legs.

  She was wet for him, so wet and wanting that her pelvis tilted. “Touch me.”

  “I am touching you.” His hands continued their downward slide. He scooped up more cream and slicked it over her knees, her calves, and the top of her feet. When he was done, he stared down at her glistening body with satisfaction. Then he positioned himself above her, chest to chest, holding himself up from her slippery body by his locked arms, and licked the seam of her mouth.

  With a groan, she opened her mouth and stuck out her tongue to capture his.

  His elbows bent, lowering his body to hers. His mouth teased and tasted, feasted and sucked.

  She wriggled under him, loving the slide of their bodies. Edged her thighs open so his cock dipped between her legs, close to where she wanted him.

  He jerked his mouth away. “Fuck.” He slid down her body, and roughly grabbed her knees spreading them apart, and pushed his face to her cunt. Like a man possessed, he thrust his tongue into her wetness, swirling it around her swollen clit, then sucked her into his mouth.

  She arched her back, looked down, the sight of his dark head between her white thighs sending a wave of heat through her entire body. His fingers stroked close to where his mouth was making its magic, then he put two fingers inside her, moving in a crude imitation of his cock. The air was filled with the scent of her expensive body lotion mixed with her arousal, his fingers crooked inside her, finding her G-spot with perfect accuracy.

  “Ooh.” She couldn’t form words, but there was no mistaking the meaning of the incoherent sounds she made. She shoved her hands into his hair, forcing his mouth closer, grinding into him. His wet tongue flicked her stiff clit, then his thumb took its place, rubbing the sensitive bundle of nerves in a steady rhythm that fired sensation through her entire body.

  Her toes pointed then turned up. The shiver began there, and travelled upward, swirling into her thighs, and her most sensitive spot. Her thighs tightened around his head, as he licked her again, his fingers stroking the cord of muscle at the top of her inner thighs, then slipping under to cup her bottom. She shuddered at the probing of his hungry mouth, brought her hands to her tits, rubbing and squeezing them as pleasure thundered through her, forcing her surrender, delivering a release so explosive, so entire, her entire body shook.

  Her body felt soft, boneless, and satisfied, as if all her vitality and strength had leached from her with the intensity of her orgasm.

  Sholto scooted up the bed, and rested his head on the pillow. She twisted to her side, resting her head on his shoulder as her heart rate slowed. His slipped one arm beneath her head, and wrapped the other around her, holding her close.

  “Did I tell you I love you?”

  “You did.” He stroked her back. “You showed me too.”

  She traced a hand over his flat abs, loving the way they twitched under her fingertips, and curled her hand around his hard cock. “Your turn.” She slid her hand up and down, all the time watching his face.

  His eyes closed and his jaw tightened. “I want to be inside you when I come.” He peeled her fingers away, and rolled on top of her. “I want to feel your inner walls squeeze me.”

  She kissed him as his cock slid into her. Gasped as he thrust hard and fast. Squeezed around him, released, and squeezed again, matching his powerful thrusts as best she could. He slipped, he slid, he rammed. Her knees came up, feet flat on the bed and she shifted on the cool cotton sheets, moving her body so every thrust hit her most sensitive spot inside. He felt for her clit, rubbing it rapidly as he lunged into her.

  Both of them were breathing as hard as marathon runners on the final sprint. The air filled with the sound of creaking bedsprings, the heavy thunk of the bedhead being regularly slammed against the wall, and their incoherent cries.

  She breathed in his scent, burrowed her face into the curve of his neck, bit into his shoulder as his body pounded. His fingers slipped under her, cupping her bottom, and angling her to her side.

  He pistoned into her aching, needy cunt, holding nothing back, stiffening and gasping as the force of his orgasm and hers started to engulf them.

  “Deeper, deeper,” she urged, wrapping one leg over his hip.

  He looked at her through half open eyes. Pulled her on top of him, his hands closing over her tits as she rode him hard and fast.

  She threw back her head and cried out as her thundering orgasm hit.

  He threw her onto her back again, and continued to drive into her, his movements animalistic and uncontrolled. He was wild, holding nothing back. Shouting her name as he exploded inside her. Her heart filled with love, then shocked dismay as they slipped from the corner of the bed, and tumbled onto the floor.

  “Oh crap, what happened?” His eyes widened.

  The smile that spread over her face was so wide her cheeks ached. She wrapped her arms and legs around him, and started to laugh. His chest expanded with a deep chuckle, then he was stroking her back, kissing her neck, and laughing right along with her.

  Chapter Twenty

  “Melati, Miss Max,” Adam called over the noise of the outboard engine as the island came into sight.

  With a smile, Max whipped her hand out of the translucent turquoise water, and shook the droplets from her fingers. It had been six months since the day they promised to be together forever, a month since she’d seen the man who’d claimed her body and stolen her heart.

  As the speedboat sped to shore, she made out a solitary figure standing on the shore next to the white rock. A thick growth of beard covered his face, but his wide, white smile was visible, even at a distance.

  Resisting the urge to throw herself into the water and swim to him, she gripped the side of the boat as Adam slowed, then killed the engine. Adam threw Sholto a rope, then jumped out into the shallow water to pull the speedboat closer to the beach.

  Sholto ran into the waves. “Hi, baby. Come here.” He held his arms open wide, and bundled her into them.

  With the warm sand of Melati under her bare feet, and the man of her dreams in her arms, every fantasy she’d ever had came true as he lowered his head and claimed her mouth.

  Neither noticed Adam trekking from boat to beach with the supplies they’d need for the next four days. Lost in his taste, in the salty sea scent of him, Max ached to have him closer, to lose the layers of clothes between them, and reconnect with him in the most primal way possible.

  “Mr. Sholto.” Adam’s voice was apologetic. “I got to go.”

  They edged a few inches apart, and Sholto’s hand curled around hers, holding tight.

  “Everything is out of the boat. I’ll see you in four days.”

/>   They said their goodbyes, and within minutes the little white craft was speeding across the azure water once more.

  “How’s the filming going?” Sholto was halfway through the Solo film shoot on a nearby island. She’d been busy with work, and setting up their new home in L.A., deliberately busy, to soothe the ache caused by his absence.

  “Good.” He drew his thumb over her bottom lip. “But I don’t want to talk right now. I want you out of your clothes.”

  Max grinned. “Right here?”

  “No.” Still holding her hand, he walked down the beach. “Here.”

  A circular, Balinese hut stood on the spot where once he’d made his camp. There was a deck around it, with two wooden rocking chairs facing the ocean.

  She looked at the roof. “What is that, thatch?”

  “It’s called alang-alang.” He kissed her neck. “Do you like it?”

  “I love it.” She climbed the couple of steps to the front door. “How did it get here?” She ran a hand down the rough-hewn wood. “Doesn’t this ruin the whole castaway experience?”

  “I did a deal with the island’s owner. He rarely visits because of the lack of amenities, so I paid for the hut and had it erected. Our arrangement is that we can use it when we visit a couple of times a year and he can either rent it out or use it himself the rest of the time. It’s basic—there’s no plumbing, but…”

  He pushed the door open to reveal a huge wooden four-poster, with filmy white drapes rippling in the breeze from the open squares on both sides that formed windows.

  “Wow.”

  “Come see this.” He tugged her hand out of the room, around the back of the hut. “I even got us a shower.” A large wooden pole had been erected behind the hut, with a big circular barrel on top of it, and a rope.

  “I’ve seen these before.”

  “In those old black and white Tarzan movies, right?” Sholto’s eyes gleamed. “I designed it.”

  “Does it work?”

  He nodded. “I’ll show you. Later.”