by Sorcha Grace
I flipped open the box and stared at a bracelet. My jaw dropped. “Holy shit. It’s a bracelet,” I whispered.
“Jewelry! I knew it!”
“But, Beckett, you have to see it. It can’t be real. There’s no way this is real.”
He blew out a breath. “Cat, William Lambourne is a billionaire. Billionaire. It’s real.”
“Then it’s too much. You should see it. It’s a silver cuff, about three inches wide.” I stared at it. This was crazy. He couldn’t be giving this to me. He didn’t even know me. First, oral sex on my kitchen floor—now expensive gifts? Everything was moving so fast. I couldn’t recover from one shock before I received another.
“Nice.”
“It’s covered—I mean covered—in diamonds. Beckett, it’s breathtaking.” My hand shook just holding it. It sparkled like nothing I’d ever imagined. I wanted to slip it on my wrist, but I didn’t think I’d ever take it off again. I never dreamed I’d ever wear something this stunning. I wasn’t poor by any standards, but this was totally out of my league. It was beyond my wildest dreams. “Okay, I’m sending you another picture.” I quickly snapped a photo of the bracelet and texted it to Beckett. Then I placed the bracelet into its box reverently and lifted a small white card on heavy monogrammed stock.
The monogram was WML.
I didn’t even know his middle name. He was giving me a diamond bracelet, and I couldn’t even answer a basic question about him. “There’s a card,” I told Beckett.
“Ooh, read it!”
“I can still taste you, Catherine. And I am hungry for more. See you tonight. W.”
“That is so fucking hot,” Beckett crowed. “I mean, Cat, I’m fanning myself here.”
“Yeah.” I stared at the bracelet and the gown and the shoes and the perfume and shook my head.
“Oh my God, Cat. The bracelet is amazing. I wish I didn’t have plans tonight.”
“I don’t need help.” But my voice wavered. I was feeling really insecure now. This was a lot of attention. What did William expect in return? How could I possibly measure up to his expectations? Suddenly, my confidence wavered.
“With all those gorgeous things, you can’t go wrong,” Beckett said. “This is your Cinderella moment. I only wish I could be your lady-in-waiting.”
I laughed, but the uneasy feeling didn’t lift. Maybe this date wasn’t a good idea. The gifts were spectacular, but they were too much. I voiced my concern to Beckett, and he scoffed. “Too much? Cat, you’re worth all that and more. You cannot back out, or you’ll regret it for the rest of your life. Besides, you said this afternoon was amazing.”
That was true. The pain au chocolat, William’s kisses, his hands, his mouth on me, his tongue inside me—all that had been incredible. I’d wanted more. And I had agreed to go on the date, knowing that William wanted more. But this… this was a full-press seduction, and I wasn’t sure I could handle it. Thinking with my sex drive was getting me into deep trouble.
“I don’t know, Beckett. It feels too fast. And it’s creepy, right? How does he know my sizes, my preferences?”
“It’s romantic!”
“It feels like an invasion of privacy. I didn’t even know this guy a few days ago. He was a stormy-eyed stranger I met on the street. And now, he’s buying me shoes and jewelry?” Granted, that stranger totally rocked my world this afternoon. I didn’t know I could feel that way—three times—but what did I really know about William M. Lambourne? He was rich and handsome and had good taste in jewelry?
“Cat, don’t over-think it,” Beckett warned. “I can hear you over-thinking it.”
“It’s not over-thinking to be weirded out when a guy asks you on a date and then acts like you’re a doll for him to dress up. This is my first official date in years, and it’s weird!”
“Cat, this guy sees how special you are. Why shouldn’t he show it?”
“With a diamond bracelet?”
“He’s a billionaire! To William Lambourne, a hundred thousand dollars is pocket change.”
“I doubt that.”
“Cat, when you picked up the phone, you sounded happy. This guy makes you happy. Or at least he made you happy in your kitchen. Please go.”
I did feel kind of happy, actually. Beckett was right about that. And I couldn’t deny that whatever was happening between William and me was something extraordinary. But it felt so much like a whirlwind that I didn’t have time to think or to analyze. I hadn’t felt like this in so long—maybe I’d never felt like this. I could only imagine what actually doing it with William would be like. Even after three shattering climaxes on my kitchen floor, I was still aching and I still wanted him. But what if he was building me up into some sort of ideal I’d only tear down when I had to tell him the truth? These gifts were beautiful, but they weren’t for me. They were for some other woman—one who hadn’t killed her husband.
And yet, I’d agreed to go. William would only show up and talk me into going anyway. I had no willpower when it came to him.
“Okay,” I said with a sigh. “I’ll go.”
“Yes!” Beckett yelled.
“I can’t let him get away. Not yet.” Not before I’d sampled all that he had to offer.
“The sex is going to be fabulous.”
I laughed. Beckett could always read my mind. “How do you know?”
“Rebound sex always is. You should definitely have some. Multiple times!”
“Well, there is that New Year’s resolution. I don’t want to disappoint my mother.”
“Exactly. Cat, just have fun. Don’t think so much.”
“Okay, I’ll go. On my terms, Beckett.”
Seven
It seemed to take an eternity to get ready. I was so nervous my hands shook as I tried to style my hair and put makeup on. I second-guessed every decision and wished Beckett had been free to come over. I needed serious help.
When I got out of bed this morning, I had no idea I’d be going on a date tonight, let alone attending a formal event. I felt mentally unprepared. What was I going to talk about? First dates were awkward enough without having been naked together. Well, when at least one of you had already been totally naked. Did we gloss over this afternoon, or was sex expected now? And that was the big stuff! There were tons of little things. Did he come up to get me? Did I wait for him to open the car door? What were the rules? Had they changed? Was there an Internet site I could reference? And then, suddenly, it was five to seven, and I was out of time to panic or obsess.
There was a tap on my door at seven o’clock exactly. Punctuality was obviously one of William’s hang-ups—definitely not one of mine. I was late for pretty much everything. Sometimes, I tried to trick myself by setting all my clocks ahead, but that only worked for so long before I adjusted.
I took a deep breath and steeled myself for the night ahead. I needed to be cool and composed in the face of William’s stormy eyes and staggering hotness. Every time I made any decision about him, once in his presence, I couldn’t think about anything but how incredibly sexy he was. All my resolutions flew out the door.
I smoothed my dress, praying he would not see how nervous I was, and opened the door. My breath whooshed out. He looked every bit as good as I expected and more. My lungs tightened, and I felt my legs turn to mush. How could any man be that gorgeous? And I was never the kind of girl who could resist a man in a tux. William looked dashing in his perfectly cut and classically elegant black tuxedo. The coat accentuated the breadth of his shoulders and the slimness of his waist. His hair was swept back from his forehead and artfully styled, his stormy eyes fixed on me. I wanted to drag him inside, rip off the tux, and forget about the date.
Fortunately, I couldn’t do anything but stare at the god in my doorway. His blue eyes raked hungrily over me from top to bottom. And then, for a moment, I caught a flicker of disappointment. It was gone instantly, and I might have thought I imagined it. He opened his mouth. My heart seemed to falter. I’d made the wrong choice.
He wasn’t happy. “Is everything okay?” I asked quietly.
He shook his head and swallowed. “You look gorgeous, Catherine. I can hardly speak. I’m overwhelmed.”
The warmth of his voice made me flush, but I knew he wasn’t seeing what he wanted. I wasn’t wearing the red gown he’d sent. I couldn’t. It wasn’t my style—too attention-grabbing, too loud. And anyway, I barely knew him and I wasn’t about to let him make wardrobe choices for me. So I’d gone with my own selection for the evening, which was none too shabby. I thought the ensemble I’d put together was elegant and chic, if more minimalist than maybe William would have liked. I wore a sleek, figure-hugging, black wool jersey dress with a back that dipped low. Very low. The dress draped artfully to the floor, and the sleeves were long and billowing. The dress hugged my curves, and I felt sexy, but still like me.
I hadn’t completely disregarded William’s gifts. I couldn’t wear a bra because of the back, but I was wearing the tiny red and black lace thong. I loved the garter belt and stockings, but the dress was clingy, and the belt would have showed, so I opted for my own thigh-high black stockings with lace on the top band. And hopefully, William had noticed I was wearing the shoes, the bracelet, and the perfume.
I’d piled my hair in an artfully messy bun and applied soft, shimmery makeup. Except for my lips. I’d chosen a deep matte red color, drawing attention to my mouth and making it, with the exception of that fabulous bracelet, my best accessory. I saw William’s gaze return to my lips over and over, and I couldn’t help but feel relieved, knowing my choice was having the desired effect.
“You’re beautiful,” he said. “You take my breath away.”
“Thank you.” I tried not to fidget, but I was waiting for him to say something about the red dress. “I know this isn’t what you sent me, but...” On a whim, I turned, showing him the deep plunge in the back. He drew in an audible breath of appreciation, and I felt my pulse kick up. It felt good to be looked at with admiration, though I could feel my cheeks flush with embarrassment and self-consciousness.
I turned to find William staring at me hotly. His stormy eyes were virtual tempests of desire, and I went liquid inside looking at him look at me. No wonder he was so successful. With one look I was ready to do whatever he wanted. Again.
His desire was palpable, and I worried we wouldn’t make it to the event. His eyes lingered on my mouth, and I could all but feel his need to kiss me. Or maybe, it was my need to be kissed. I wanted his mouth on me. I wanted his hands on me. I wanted to feel his body pressed against mine.
“You’re lovely, Catherine,” he said, finally breaking the silence. “Sexy. Black suits you, and no one would dare mistake you for a grieving widow in that dress. It’s a killer.”
My blood chilled. I actually felt my body cool. My stomach clenched, and I felt nauseated. William was still talking, but all I saw was his mouth moving. All I could hear was blood rushing in my ears. Did he know? Had William found out about Jace? I hadn’t told him anything. I hadn’t told anybody. The only people in Chicago who knew were Beckett and the people in my support group. Beckett would never have said anything to William.
Had he checked up on me? Had he done research, like he might do for a company he wanted to buy? Maybe that’s what I was to William—an acquisition. He thought I was an easy purchase because I was vulnerable. And that was how I felt—like I’d been ripped open, all my secrets exposed.
I was also confused. If William had checked on me, why would he bring it up? Why even mention it? It would have been easy to pretend he didn’t know. If he knew, he would never have sent me these exquisite gifts. There was no way he could have known. It had been an offhanded comment, and I was overreacting.
“Catherine?”
I blinked and realized William had stopped talking. It took me a moment to notice the sparkle in his stormy eyes and the wicked grin on his sensual mouth.
“I’m sorry. What did you say?”
He leaned close so that his mouth brushed my ear. “I said, maybe what you’re mourning is my mouth between your legs, my tongue teasing you until you can’t take it anymore, and you coming hard against my lips. Like you did this afternoon.”
I took a shuddering breath, hot all over again. William didn’t know. There was no way he would have phrased his sex talk like that if he knew. As I’d suspected, it was a poor choice of words, and my reaction would make him wonder, if I wasn’t careful. My own neurosis was getting the better of me.
“Maybe we better go before we end up staying in,” I said. Turning, I grabbed my wrap and my evening clutch from the side table in the small entry area and stepped out.
Downstairs, a handsome man with café au lait skin and a shaved head opened the door to my building. He was in his thirties and dressed like he’d stepped out of a stylish version of Men in Black. An earpiece that coiled to the back of his neck and disappeared beneath his shirt collar accessorized a dark suit and tie. Like George Graham, who had come to my door earlier, this man had a military bearing. I wouldn’t have been surprised if he had a gun concealed under his coat or beneath his pant leg. I supposed that a man as wealthy as William needed security, but I couldn’t imagine William not handling himself. He moved with tightly coiled power and control. From my brief explorations through his clothing during our encounter on my kitchen floor earlier today—had that only been a few hours ago?—I knew there wasn’t an ounce of flab on him. His chest, arms, and abs had felt hard and muscled under my fingertips.
The driver pressed his hand to his ear, listening to a message, and then opened the door of the black SUV he guarded. Long and black with tinted windows, it gleamed in the light from the street lamps. “Good evening, Miss Kelly. My name is Anthony.”
“Hi, Anthony.” I looked at William and raised a brow. “Don’t tell me your code name is POTUS.”
He smiled, and even though I loved the intense looks filled with desire he flashed me, I liked his casual, fun side too. “Not yet.”
I laughed and then realized perhaps he was serious. Anthony held out his hand and assisted me up the step and into the interior of the luxury SUV. I sank into the plush leather seat, which was wonderfully warm and cozy. I could get used to this. William followed, seating himself beside me. Anthony closed the door, and I noticed the SUV had a privacy window. It was closed, so William and I were alone.
I heard the clink of ice and watched as William pulled a bottle from the bucket where it had been chilling. “Champagne?” He raised his brows in a smoldering look that set my heart racing.
“Yes, please.” It was exactly what I needed to relax and retrieve the sense of anticipation and excitement I’d been feeling before William’s poorly worded comment. He lifted a flute and poured the bubbling liquid into it. I studied the bottle, interested in the brand billionaires chose, and saw familiar initials: WML.
“What label is that?” I asked as he handed me the flute and poured another for himself. He sipped his champagne and watched. His look was scorching. He was scorching. Half of me wondered what I was doing with a man this gorgeous. The other half was way too turned on to think.
“My label.”
“You have a winery?” I shook my head. Of course, he had a winery. Was there anything he didn’t have?
“I do, and it’s one of my recent acquisitions.” His eyes shown as he spoke, and I could tell this was a subject close to his heart. “I’ve always enjoyed wine, and I thought I might see if I was any good at being a vintner.”
“So you take an active role in the process?”
“Yes.” He rested his flute in the car’s built-in glass holder. “I take an active role in most ventures.” He reached for me, putting his arm around me, dragging me closer. The heat from his body infused me, and I felt a magnetic pull that made me want to get closer. It felt good to be in his arms, good to be pressed against him, and even better when he nuzzled my neck. I closed my eyes and shivered with pleasure. His soft lips were like a drug on the sensitive flesh of my nap
e.
“You smell amazing, Catherine,” he murmured against my neck. “I couldn’t resist.” He looked at me, his expression almost apologetic. “What were we talking about?”
My mind went blank for a moment. “Oh, um, your ventures?”
“God, no wonder my mind wandered. I’ll bore you to tears. I’m glad you agreed to come with me tonight.”
“Me, too.” And I meant it. It felt right to be held, comforting to have his hand trail up and down my arm. I felt like I was in a cocoon of warmth and safety. “How did you know I liked the Art Institute?”
“A guess,” he said, running a hand lightly over my hair. “You’re an artist, and it’s a fabulous museum. It’s one of my favorite places in Chicago.”
“Really?” I was truly surprised. It seemed this man continually surprised me.
“Absolutely. I grew up in Chicago, and my mother took me and my brother to the Art Institute when we were young. She’d call it a cultural day, and we’d sleep in late and play hooky from school.” There was that boyish grin again. I could feel the excitement he must have felt as a kid on those special days.
“We’d take the L to the museum, which was always fun—you know boys and trains—and wander around for hours. Then, when we were ready to collapse, we’d have lunch somewhere and talk and eat delicious food.”
“It sounds wonderful,” I said.
“It was. And now, you’re part of that memory too.” He looked at me for a long moment, seeming to drink in the sight of me, and then his mouth touched mine in a slow, soft kiss. His arms tightened on my body, pulling me closer, holding me tighter. He was warm and solid. I could feel his strength, but his kiss was soft and sweet. And then his lips parted, the kiss deepened, and his mouth melded with mine. His hands stroked my hair, my cheek, and my throat as he moved his mouth over mine.
He slid one hand down my arm, my belly, and then my thigh. I trembled in anticipation as his mouth kept up its gentle torture. He kissed me softly and deeply, even as his hands stroked up and down my body with reverence. He explored me, worshipped me, and made me feel as though I was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. I knew it couldn’t be true, but I didn’t care. His skilled hands had me hot and wet, and when he palmed my braless breast through my dress, I couldn’t stop a quiet moan. My nipples were painfully hard for him, and he rubbed them through the jersey material, easing the ache, and ratcheting it up too.
