A Taste of You

by Sorcha Grace

  “Yes. Make me come.”

  He thrust deep inside me. I bucked against him then surrendered to the first stabs of pleasure. He fucked me fast and hard, our bodies slapping together as he filled me again and again. I came violently, crying out and clenching him. He showed no mercy and kept thrusting, his strokes possessive. “You’re mine, Catherine. Mine,” he growled into my ear, and my pleasure built again. I could feel him tensing, knew he was about to come, but he controlled it, waiting for me. “Come for me, Catherine.”

  In an instant, I was over the edge, and then he let go, crying out as he came hot and hard.

  Twelve

  I rested my warm forehead against the cool glass and stared at the view of the city. I couldn’t believe we’d just had sex in his office. His admin was right outside the door. We were plastered half naked against a bank of windows overlooking downtown Chicago. Anyone could have seen what we were doing if they had a pair of binoculars.

  I felt William move away and wondered if he was as mortified as I. Gently, he turned me around, cupped my face in his hands, and kissed me. It was the sweetest kiss I’d ever received. Then he leaned down and pulled my panties and my tights up. “There’s a washroom through that door,” he said, indicating a door behind his desk. “You can freshen up.”

  “Thank you.”

  The washroom was as luxurious as the rest of the office with a walk-in, glass-doored shower, heated towel racks, a flat screen TV, two phones, and an assortment of shampoos and soaps behind glass cabinet doors. I made myself presentable, then stepped out to find William sitting, hands in his hair. He rose as soon as I stepped out. “I should go,” I said, avoiding his eyes.

  “Come home with me. Let me make you dinner.” He walked over and reached for me. “Let me pamper you, pleasure you.” As he spoke, he stroked my cheek with his thumb.

  “I can’t. I…” I glanced at the frosted door. “Do you think anyone heard?” I shook my head. “I cannot believe we did that.”

  “It’s soundproof, but do you want me to ask Parker?”

  “William!” I didn’t think I could be more embarrassed.

  “I’m kidding. This was a first. I’ve never done that here. And I don’t know how I’ll be able to get any work done now…” His voice trailed off as he looked at my telltale handprints all over the wall of windows across from his desk.

  “Really?”

  His thumb continued to stroke my cheek. “I told you, Catherine. This is new for me. I don’t want to let you go. Come home with me. Please?”

  It was tempting—to be pampered and pleasured and fed a dinner that would surely be delicious—but I couldn’t. “I have other plans,” I said. He scowled and looked disappointed, and I took his hand, giving it a squeeze. “I promise I won’t be dancing with anyone. That’s probably more than you can promise.”

  “Catherine…” He gave me a warning look, but I saw amusement in his eyes too.

  “I’ll see you later this week.”

  He sighed. “Tomorrow,” he corrected. “I’m taking you out —somewhere we’ll both enjoy.”

  Even if I’d had plans for Tuesday night, which I didn’t, I couldn’t see putting William off again.

  “Fine. I’ll see you tomorrow then.” I gathered my coat and scarf and the gloves William had given me and bundled up. “I’d better go.”

  “Anthony will drive you home.”

  “That’s not necessary.”

  “Yes. It is.” He had crossed to his desk while I dressed, and now he was seated there. His finger swiped across the surface. I leaned over and noticed he had some kind of computer screen projected onto the surface. Or perhaps the surface was the device itself, like a large tablet. In any case, he was back in work mode. His expression was serious and focused.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

  He looked up, and his gaze followed me as I crossed to the door. For a split second, I wondered how I would open it, then the light on the panel flashed green, and the door unlocked. I looked over my shoulder at William. He was absorbed in his work again.

  I stepped out of his office, and Parker—I didn’t know whether Parker was her first or last name—looked up from her tablet.

  “Here goes the walk of shame,” I muttered to myself. “Bye,” I said to parker, trying not to look as though I’d just had hot sex with her boss in the next room while she sat here and worked.

  “Have a good evening, Miss Kelly.”

  “Thanks.”

  It was almost five o’clock, but the activity in William’s office hadn’t slowed. The people surrounding the lobby looked as busy as ever. A few looked up to smile, but I walked resolutely toward the elevator. William had used a key card to activate it, but it slid open. Anthony was inside, and he nodded. “Miss Kelly, I’ll drive you home.”

  “Thanks, Anthony.” I stepped into the elevator. “And it’s Cat.”

  He frowned. “I’m sorry?”

  “My name. You can call me Cat.” We might as well become friends if he was going to drive me around.

  He smiled. “I will, Miss Kel—Cat.”

  Anthony drove me in a dark sedan without a privacy window, which was fine, though I wondered where the SUV was. We chatted about favorite restaurants and argued over the best pizza—he was firmly for Gino’s East, while I was a fan of Lou Malnati’s. We agreed Kuma’s Corner had the best burgers in town. But mostly, I sat quietly and watched as he navigated through traffic and construction.

  It had been a strange day. I’d started by arguing with William that we were not in a relationship. I didn’t know what I wanted, but it was not a relationship. I couldn’t do that yet. I wasn’t ready to forget Jace and our life together. But I’d ended the day having wild sex in William’s office.

  So maybe, we were having a relationship? And maybe, I should take Beckett’s advice and not over-think it.

  *****

  At home, I spent time with Laird then showered and changed clothes before hopping in my Volvo and driving to a neighborhood restaurant. It was quiet, not usually crowded, which was the main requisite for these dinners. When I arrived, Allison McIntyre and Dana Sullivan were already seated.

  “I hope you didn’t wait long,” I said, hugging both.

  “We just got here,” Allison told me. While I shrugged off my coat and scarf, Allison and Dana continued their conversation about a movie they’d seen. I listened and took the opportunity to study my friends and note how they were doing.

  I’d met Allison and Dana in a grieving spouses support group I’d joined when I moved to Chicago. After meetings, we three would stay and chat, and our chats evolved into dinners. We didn’t have much in common, other than the death of our husbands. Allison was in her late thirties and had two young kids. Her husband had died three years ago of cancer. Dana was in her early fifties and also had two children, but they were grown and on their own. Her husband had died of a heart attack five years ago. Dana still went to meetings, but Allison and I no longer attended.

  The waiter came to take our orders. We had a routine. We ordered salads and then split the most decadent dessert. When the waiter left, Allison rested on her elbows and said, “So, what’s up with you, Cat? You look happy.”

  “I do?” I could feel the smile on my face. I realized I’d wanted to talk about William and this new… whatever it was. “I mean, I am. I met someone.”

  Dana’s eyes widened in surprise, and Allison grabbed my hand and squeezed. “That’s great! Who? Tell us all about him!”

  I told them how William and I had met and how he’d cooked for me and taken me out. “He’s really gorgeous,” I said with a smile.

  “And obviously, pretty good in bed to have you smiling like that,” Allison said.

  “In bed, in the kitchen, in the back of his car…”

  “Whoa!” Allison fanned her face. “I’ll just live vicariously through you.”

  I didn’t reveal his name or details about what he did, but it was fun to talk about William li
ke any girl would gush about her new boyfriend.

  “Have you told him about Jace?” Dana asked. She’d acted excited, but I could tell she wasn’t quite as thrilled for me as Allison. Dana had been a widow for five years and still wore black in mourning. Her widowhood was like a badge she’d sewn on. She had told us on more than one occasion that she would never find anyone else. No one could ever replace her Frank.

  I sighed. “No, I haven’t told him about Jace yet.”

  “Why?” Allison asked.

  “I hate the initial conversation. You know, when you say your husband died, and you get the look of pity? I don’t want that. I mean, why go there if we’re just having fun?”

  “It sounds like it might be getting serious,” Dana said.

  “It is.”

  “And you still haven’t told him?”

  “I don’t know how he’ll react,” I said. I could be honest with these women. They had experienced the same feelings at one time. “I don’t want him to see me differently or to pity me. And I don’t want him to feel as though he has to compete with a dead guy.”

  “That’s his issue, not yours,” Allison said.

  “Unless you’re not ready to move on,” Dana pointed out.

  Dana had read my mind. “That’s just it,” I said. “I don’t know if I’m ready. A part of me is scared that if I move on, I’ll lose the memories I have of Jace and our life together. Those memories mean everything.”

  “Why should that change?” Allison asked. “Your relationship with this guy, even if you married him, will be different than the one you had with Jace. There’s room in your heart to treasure what you had with Jace and love a new man.”

  “I’m sure Jace would want you to find someone else,” Dana said.

  I wasn’t so sure. I couldn’t imagine Jace with anyone else. “Would he? It feels like a betrayal of what we had. Of our marriage.”

  “No,” Allison said firmly. “It’s not a betrayal to love someone else. Jace is gone, honey. He’s not coming back, but you’re still here. You’re young and single. You should enjoy the whirlwind and have fun.”

  “I doubt we’re going to fall in love,” I told Allison, “but I understand what you’re saying.”

  “I’m sure Jace would be happy for you,” Dana said.

  I frowned. “Would Jace be happy for me? If he were alive, he’d be jealous as hell and hurt. And he wouldn’t like that I’ve already slept with William. I made him wait seven dates.”

  Allison laughed. “You were a lot younger then.”

  “You have a point,” Dana added. “Things are moving fast with you and this new guy. Have you had time to think it through?”

  Our dessert arrived, and we moved to other topics. I hadn’t eaten much of my salad and didn’t do more than taste the dessert. Dana was right. I really hadn’t thought this through—or at least, every time I did think about it and made a decision, I completely disregarded it the next time I saw William. And I felt as though I was keeping something from William—keeping someone who had been and still was the most important person in my life from him. It made Jace seem less important if I didn’t tell William about him. But how could I know if this thing with William—this relationship—was going anywhere, if I wasn’t honest about my past? I wanted him to be honest about Lara Kendall. I had to come clean too.

  One thing was certain. As little as I liked the idea, I had to tell William about Jace.

  *****

  The next day I worked from home on the ideas Alec had proposed at the Fresh Market meeting, brainstorming and imagining possibilities at this fun stage. It was almost eleven when I got the first text from William.

  Have you eaten anything?

  I smiled. He was always taking care of me. I texted back: I’ve had two lattes.

  I sat at my computer and opened my email. There was a follow-up message from Alec, summarizing our discussion, and my dad had forwarded a funny picture.

  My phone dinged again.

  I’m going to feed you tonight, but I want to do it slowly. Eat something, so you’re not ravenous.

  My belly fluttered. I’m always ravenous for you.

  I scrolled though my inbox while I waited for his reply. I saw an email from Beckett with links about William and WML Capital Management. I’d read the first few articles. They were from business journals and raved about William’s innovative leadership and driving ambition. He wasn’t afraid to take risks. I could have told them that.

  Below those articles were older ones, and I moved to click on one as my phone dinged again.

  Catherine, you’re making me hard.

  I smiled. What are we going to do about that?

  The reply came instantly. I’ll show you tonight. I’ll pick you up at seven. We’ll go somewhere casual.

  Casual with William probably didn’t mean yoga pants, a hoodie, and fluffy socks, what I was wearing at the moment. I’d have to build time into my afternoon to shower and change. That was the only problem with working from home. I got used to lounging in my sweats and showering at about three in the afternoon.

  I’m looking forward to it. And then, because it was almost lunchtime, I went to the kitchen and popped a frozen meal in my microwave. While I waited for it to cook, I clicked on the next link in the email. And promptly, forgot all about food.

  Prominent Chicago Businessman and Family Missing, Presumed Dead

  Alaskan officials confirmed that the private plane carrying business tycoon William Lambourne II, 46, his wife Mary Alice (Gibson),41, and son Wyatt, 14, did not reach its destination in the remote fishing village of Anvik, Alaska, on Tuesday. Lambourne is the CEO of WML Capital Management, an investment firm. Sources state the Lambournes were in Alaska on a planned fishing holiday. Their younger son, William, 11, was not on the aircraft. No representatives for the Lambourne family were available for comment. Alaskan search and rescue teams are combing the last reported location of the bush plane, a DeHavilland DCH-3T, looking for signs of wreckage or an emergency landing. Airplane crashes are not uncommon in Alaska and are often the result of wind gusts, ice, and sudden dangerous weather. This is the fifty-seventh plane reported missing in the state this year.

  I felt sick to my stomach, and my heart ached for the little boy whose world came crashing down. No wonder he was so guarded. How could he trust anything or anyone again when everything had been taken from him in an instant?

  I wondered how William felt about having his life made so public. I knew what sudden, unexpected death felt like, and I knew what it felt like to have your personal tragedies exploited by the media. Jace’s death was covered widely in the surfing world, especially online. I couldn’t imagine how an eleven-year-old boy could deal with it while going through such pain and loss.

  I clicked on the next article, also from the mid-1990s. Despite an exhaustive search, no wreckage from the plane was recovered. William’s family was presumed dead. An article published several years later, a piece in a business journal on up-and-coming young professionals mentioned William’s business acumen and referred to his tragic past. Sole custody and guardianship of William had been given to his aunt, his mother’s sister, and his uncle—Abigail and Charles Smith. I thought back to the pictures I’d seen in his closet. The three girls must have been William’s cousins—Lauren, Zoe, and Sarah. They’d lived in Lake Forest, but references indicated that William had trouble adjusting initially. Not that I could blame him. Still, the fact that he had a picture of his adopted family in his closet made me think he had loved them.

  There was one last link, and I clicked on it. The article talked about William not taking full ownership of his company until he turned thirty, which was nine months away. Certain divisions had been held in trust, but he was the sole heir to everything. And from what I could gather, the holdings for WML Capital Management were vast, all but unimaginable. I was dating one of the richest men in America. I clicked on the next page, and my eyes widened.

  In perhaps the most telling dis
play of Lambourne’s tenacity and determination, he deferred acceptance to Northwestern University to spend a year in Alaska, searching for evidence relating to the disappearance nearly a decade earlier of a bush plane his family had hired to transport them to a remote fishing village. Sources close to the family revealed that Lambourne had the investigation of the crash reopened, employed every resource available, and spent millions of dollars in an effort to find answers or locate his missing family. Though extensive efforts were made to locate the plane and recover any wreckage, Lambourne found nothing.

  I felt his grief when I read that. I knew how determined and single-minded he could be. He would not have given up until he’d exhausted every avenue. And I understood, too, the hope he must have felt that there had been some mistake, that his family was still alive. After the accident that killed Jace, I had those feelings. I wanted it to be a bad dream. I wanted it to be a mistake. But I’d had to identify Jace’s body, fly from Hawaii to California with him, and I’d known there was no mistake. I buried Jace, but William never had that closure.

  I didn’t know if reading the articles helped me understand William better, but he didn’t feel like a closed book anymore. And I understood why he was hesitant to share his life. I was willing to bet he no more wanted the piteous looks he’d received when he mentioned his family’s plane crash than I wanted those I received when I mentioned Jace’s death.

  My phone rang, startling me, and I picked it up, expecting William. It was my mother. “Hi, Mom? Are you still in St. Barts?”

  “Hi, baby. No, I came home early.” The Texas accent was gone, and she sounded like my mother again. “It wasn’t working out with Bob.”

  “The art collector?”

  “Ha! That’s what he said he was, but the man knew less about art than I do. I’m so tired of the dating scene. It’s impossible to get past a person’s mask.”

  “Yeah. I know what you mean.”

  “Do you? Have you made good on your resolution and gone on a date?” Now she sounded motherly.

  “Actually, I did.”