A Taste of You

by Sorcha Grace

  “Really, Cat,” Beckett continued, eating the last of his sandwich. I had barely touched mine. “Every girl, and some guys, I know would love to be in your shoes. You’re Julia-fucking-Roberts in Pretty Woman. But prettier, of course. You are William Maddox Lambourne’s girlfriend.”

  Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman. The comparison resonated. And the real question remained—was I the princess or the whore?

  *****

  I’d taken the L into the Loop because parking near the Fresh Market office was expensive. Plus, I’d scored a great spot Sunday evening and was now reluctant to move my Volvo. Beckett always took the L or a cab, so we walked from the restaurant. My cheeks were burning from the cold by the time we stepped inside. Beckett and I were a few minutes early, and we were met by the assistant art director, who showed us into the conference room.

  “I’m Alec Carr,” he said as he led us back. “I’m excited to be working with you. I saw what you did with the kebabs. It was genius.”

  “Thanks.” I ducked my head, always unsure how to respond to compliments.

  “We’re excited to have you on board too, Mr. Altieri.”

  Beckett waved a hand as we entered the glass-walled conference room. “You can call me Beckett.”

  Alec smiled. “And you can call me Alec. Seriously, I’m a big fan of your work.”

  I glanced at Beckett and raised my brows. There was definitely something going on here. Alec was cute in a Justin Timberlake way. He had light brown hair, a great body, and black-rimmed glasses that made him look funky and fun. He was the perfect compliment for Beckett’s blond hair and blue eyes.

  “I love what Fresh Market is doing,” Beckett said as we took seats around a rectangular table. “Sex sells, Alec, and when you put food and sex together, the combination is explosive.”

  “I agree completely,” Alec said. “And that’s why I didn’t hesitate when Catherine insisted we bring you on board. There’s no one better at staging food as sex than you.”

  “I’m sure you’re equally good at what you do, Alec.”

  Alec grinned. “I have a few hidden talents.”

  “I have no doubt.”

  I hid my smile. It was cute to see Beckett flirting with Alec.

  Two executives I’d met before entered, and everything turned to business. We discussed different campaigns and listened as they outlined their ideas. Then Beckett and I made suggestions and offered advice. I felt like the meeting was going well. The executives were excited, and Alec couldn’t stop smiling. And then, with about fifteen minutes left, Beckett’s phone buzzed. He checked the text and scowled.

  “Everything okay?” Alec asked.

  “Great,” Beckett said and returned to our discussion of strawberries. I could tell everything wasn’t great. Something was wrong.

  We wrapped the meeting up and Alec showed us out. “Call me if you have any questions,” he told us. “I’m available,” he said with a suggestive look at Beckett.

  We stepped outside, and I nudged Beckett. “I think Alec has a thing for you. You should call him.”

  “Maybe I will. He’s cute.”

  “He’s really cute.”

  “Cat, I need to show you something.” He pulled his phone out. There was something in his voice that made me tense. “I got this during the meeting.”

  I took the phone and studied the link for a Google alert for William Lambourne. Huh. I should have set up a Google alert for him. I hadn’t thought about it. I opened the link and scanned the first lines of a society column article about the Art Institute event on Saturday night. The writer mentioned some of the more prominent attendees, including “benefactor William Lambourne, who attended with a mystery brunette.”

  “This is so weird,” I told Beckett. I was a mystery brunette in a society column. Life couldn’t get much stranger.

  “Keep scrolling,” Beckett said.

  “There’s more?”

  I scrolled down and took a step back. The picture showed William dancing, but it wasn’t with me. I recognized Lara Kendall immediately. I scoured my brain for the sequence of events and knew this dance had been after I’d left. William hadn’t danced with anyone but me while I was there. I scrolled farther and read the caption.

  Is Chicago’s favorite couple once again an item?

  “Oh, my God.” I pushed the phone back at Beckett. I couldn’t stand to see it anymore. How could I have bought William’s bullshit this morning? He was all talk about exclusivity, but I probably hadn’t been gone five minutes Saturday evening before he was dancing with that bitch.

  “I have to go,” I told Beckett.

  “Cat, I’ll walk with you.”

  “It’s out of your way, and I’m fine.” I doubled back and gave him a hug. “I’ll call you later.”

  We split, and I headed for the L. I wanted to be home right now. I was such an idiot. Had I really believed William when he’d said Lara was nothing to him? Had I really trusted him when he’d claimed no other woman had slept in his bed? Clearly, he wasn’t being completely straight with me—about his relationship with Lara, or who had really slept in his bed.

  Chicago’s favorite couple! I was so pissed I nearly ran into a woman who’d slowed to pick up a package she’d dropped. I walked at a punishing pace, eager to be alone. Maybe I’d Google him again myself and see what I turned up.

  My phone dinged, and I looked at the screen, expecting a text from Beckett. I stopped dead. It was from William.

  Can’t stop thinking about you. Thinking of a dozen ways to make you scream my name.

  “Asshole,” I muttered and shoved the phone in my pocket. I kept walking. The wind whipped my hair against my cheek until it stung and the smell of exhaust burned my nose and eyes. I heard my ringtone, and swearing, I fished my phone out again. William was calling. I almost shoved the phone back in my pocket, but at the last second, I answered.

  “I’m thinking about you,” he said, his voice low and seductive.

  “I can’t talk now,” I said.

  “Is something wrong?”

  “I’ll call you later.” Like, maybe never.

  There was a long silence, and then, “Where are you?”

  “I’m downtown. I had a meeting at Fresh Market.”

  “Where are you now?”

  “Um…” I looked around. “State and Wacker, by the river. Why?”

  “That’s not far from my office. Come over.”

  I didn’t want to see him, talk to him, or know he existed. I wanted to forget this enormous mistake. “Another time. I need to get home.”

  “Catherine, I need to see you.”

  “Well, you’re just going to have to learn to live with disappointment, like the rest of the world.”

  “What the hell does that mean?

  I didn’t answer, which obviously wasn’t the response William wanted.

  “Catherine, I’m sending someone to get you. I’ll have you carried up, if necessary.”

  Jerk. “Don’t bother.” I hit End, stuffed the phone in my coat and kept walking. The L wasn’t much farther. I kept my head down, my face out of the wind, and walked resolutely. Then, as I was crossing the Michigan Avenue Bridge, something made me look up. William stood at the other end of the bridge. I stopped dead in my tracks and stared. His overcoat was unbuttoned, and it flapped in the wind. His face was flushed with cold, and he wore a steely expression. My breath caught in my throat. He was devastating. If he hadn’t been glaring, I would have thought he was waiting for someone else—an impossibly gorgeous goddess.

  When I didn’t continue walking, he strode up to me and grabbed my hand. “You never have gloves,” he said and slapped a pair of black cashmere gloves into my hand. Stunned, I pulled them on. How did he know I always forgot my gloves? And what did it mean that he’d thought to bring me a pair?

  “Come with me,” William ordered. “We need to talk.”

  That broke the spell. He might be impossibly handsome, but he was annoying as hell. How did he
get here? How did he know where I was? And who did he think he was, dragging me off as though I was a naughty child?

  I was too stunned and angry to do more than stumble along behind him. He navigated the pedestrian traffic, and I didn’t resist. But I was planning the throwdown to end all throwdowns. He would be sorry he’d fucked with Catherine Kelly. We’d walked a few blocks and arrived before an impressive skyscraper. There were many in Chicago, but this was one of the tallest, jutting into the sky like a victorious fist, its windows gleaming in the late afternoon sun.

  We entered a warm lobby, and I looked up. The lobby was open for several stories, and glass elevators soared upward. Trees and a waterfall, even the sounds of birds surrounded me, and I wondered if I’d accidentally stepped through the wardrobe into Narnia. I wanted to look around, but William tugged me to one side and pressed a key card against the panel for a private elevator. It slid open, and he guided me inside.

  This elevator was not glass. It was all chrome and sleek lines. William inserted his card in another slot and pressed the button that read Executive Floor, and the doors closed. The elevator whooshed upward. I stumbled to catch my balance, but William caught my arm to steady me. At least I thought he would steady me.

  Instead, he pushed me against the cool chrome wall and kissed me. How dare he? Did he think this was going to work? That this would make everything alright? I didn’t want to kiss him back, and I tried to push him away. He grabbed my wrists, imprisoning them above my head. His mouth slanted over mine hungrily, urging me to take back. “No,” I moaned.

  “Yes.” He kissed me again, his tongue twining with mine, his persuasive lips coaxing the reaction he wanted from me. I felt a surge of excitement. My breasts were heavy and tender, my mouth bruised. My body wanted this—wanted him. I locked my fingers with his and kissed him back, nipping his lips, sucking his tongue, pressing myself against his arousal.

  “No!” I tore my mouth away and pushed hard. I needed to stay in control. This time he released me, but something potent and charged remained between us. I could feel the current drawing us together, and it was difficult to fight. “How did you know where I’d be? Are you Batman or something?” I asked breathlessly, my heart thundering in my chest.

  The corner of his mouth twitched, but he didn’t smile. “You said you were at State and Wacker, heading to the L. That meant one of two directions. I got lucky.” He shrugged. “Now, tell me what’s going on.” He stood with his legs braced apart, so close that if either of us moved a fraction of an inch we’d touch. He looked down at me, his eyes stormy with desire and anger.

  The elevator slowed, slid to a stop, and chimed softly. The doors slid open to reveal an opulent reception area with an elegant sign that read WML Capital Management, LLC. Everything was cream and beige and brown, muted colors that soothed and bespoke luxury. Soft music floated over me as William tugged me by the hand from the elevator. The office was quiet, and the few men and women I saw spoke in hushed voices or hurried by, looking busy and important. I got a couple curious glances. I wondered how many women William had dragged through his office.

  We walked toward two large glass doors, and an attractive woman in her mid-thirties looked up and smiled expectantly. I saw her eyes flick over me, but her smile held. She rose. “Good afternoon, Mr. Lambourne. Would you like your messages?” Her gaze followed him.

  “Not right now, Parker. And hold my calls. I don’t want to be disturbed.”

  We breezed past her through another door, and William keyed a code into the panel that locked it behind us. I turned and took in the enormous office. I didn’t want to think about what the rent must run every month. Of course, William could afford it, and I bet that he owned the building, so he could give himself a discount. The office was huge, and like his penthouse, it was mostly windows. One side overlooked the city. Unlike the warm lobby, this office was stark and modern. William’s desk was glass, bare of anything, even a computer. His chairs were black leather. There was a sitting area with a settee and coffee table, and black accents added contrast to the otherwise clean white room. It was one of the most minimalist rooms I’d ever seen, except for William’s bedroom.

  “This is…” I tried to think how to describe it. Austere? Cold? “Large.”

  I turned and saw William slip off his overcoat. I’d watched him don it this morning, and now, he slung it over a chair, the clutter uncharacteristic in this room. William himself looked out of character. His hair was windblown from meeting me outside, though I’d seen him run his hand through it a time or two when I was exasperating him, and I suspected that might have contributed to the disarray. His cheeks were flushed from the cold, he wasn’t wearing his suit coat, and his shirtsleeves were rolled to the elbows. His tie was loosened at his neck. He looked almost casual, almost normal.

  Which made it easier for me to be mad. “I don’t like being dragged here. I don’t want to see you right now.”

  “But I want to see you.” He circled me, wolfish in the way he watched me. He walked across the room and opened a panel in the wall that concealed a small refrigerator. “Do you want a coffee? I can have Parker make you a latte. I have water—still and sparkling. You need to eat too. I have fruit here, but I can get you whatever you want.”

  “Will you stop it? I’m not hungry. And I don’t want a latte. No, thank you. I told you—I don’t want to be here. I don’t want to talk to you right now. I need to go.”

  “Catherine, I don’t understand. Tell me what’s going on.”

  I blurted it out. “I saw the photo of you and Lara Kendall at the Art Institute.”

  I watched his face closely, looking for any sign of guilt, but he looked bewildered. “What photo?”

  “I don’t know what paper it was in. Beckett got it in a Google alert. The society pages speculated that Chicago’s favorite couple might be back together.”

  William blew out a breath. “So that’s what this is about.”

  I put my hands on my hips. Obviously, he thought I was overreacting, and that made me angrier. “Yeah, that’s what this is about. Sorry to bother you. Now, can I go?”

  “I told you already. There’s nothing between Lara and me.”

  “Sure. That’s how it looked in the photo. You were dancing with her after I left. Did you wonder where I’d gone before you pulled her into your arms?”

  “Catherine, don’t be ridiculous.”

  “Oh, so now I’m ridiculous!” I could hear my voice getting louder. I was losing it.

  “You’re the one pictured with your ex-girlfriend.”

  “She wasn’t my girlfriend. Our relationship wasn’t important. You can’t believe everything you read. If you’re going to be with me, you have to learn that right away.”

  “So you can dance with any woman you want, talk to any woman, and if I find out later, I shouldn’t believe everything I read? Is that about right?”

  “Catherine, I told you. I don’t want anyone but you. You have to trust me.”

  “You don’t trust me! Just an hour before you got cozy with Lara Kendall for the cameras, you were in Ben Lee’s face because he was talking to me.”

  “That’s different.”

  “Yes, it is! Ben and I worked together, and we’ve never been involved. Oh, and Ben didn’t call you a whore.”

  William gritted his teeth and then surprised me by pulling me into his arms. “Catherine, I swear, Lara is nothing. You’re all I think about. All I want. I can’t stop thinking about you, wanting you. You’re in my office, and you’ve been in my bed. I want only you.”

  “But—”

  He crushed my protest with his mouth. I wanted to fight him. I really did. I knew I should because the more involved we became the more I would open myself up and the more vulnerable I would become to being hurt. And I didn’t know if I could stand any more pain in my life. And then there was that part of me that felt disloyal to Jace. I tried to cling to that part, but it dissolved in the wake of William’s punishing kisses. I
couldn’t resist his mouth. When he kissed me, every part of me came alive.

  He angled my jaw up, and his mouth moved to my neck. “I’ve been thinking about your skin,” he said, his breath hot against my throat.

  His hands tugged my jacket off, gliding under my blouse, cupping my breasts. He touched me through the thin, lacy fabric of my bra, and I moaned. We were moving backward, and finally, my back was against the wall of glass.

  “You have the softest skin, Catherine. You’re so delicate. I don’t want to hurt you,” he growled. His hands massaged my breasts, making me pant. His touch sent spirals of pleasure through me, and the heat and throbbing between my legs built. I pushed against him to ease the pressure.

  Me, delicate? I almost laughed. “You’re not going to hurt me. Sometimes I like it a little rough, you know.” It came out sounding like a challenge.

  “Oh, do you?” His voice was dangerous, and I was instantly wet. “Then I’m going to take you fast and hard, Catherine. Right here, right now.”

  I made a pathetic attempt to push him away, but I wanted him as much as he wanted me. I could feel him throbbing against my belly. He was hot and thick and hard. He grabbed my waist and spun me around. I had a view of dusk falling on Chicago from the river all the way to the lake. In the background, I saw our reflection as he lifted my skirt and tugged my tights and then my panties down. He pushed me against the windows, and I splayed my hands to keep myself steady. He kicked my legs apart, and then his hand was there.

  “You’re so wet,” he said, his voice husky. “Tell me you want me.” His fingers dipped into my slickness then circled my clit. I could feel my orgasm building.

  “I want you.” The wanton voice that came out didn’t sound like mine. I was so turned on.

  And then his fingers were gone, and I felt the head of his penis between my legs. He rubbed it against my clit.

  “You want to come, don’t you? You’re like an inferno, and I can feel you throbbing.”

  He stroked me, teasing and tantalizing me until I cried out, fisting my hands against the window.