“But…”
I stop talking and think about that night at the pool and the way Vincent had spoken. Never once had he admitted to having sex with the woman, only…he’d used sly innuendo and his clever deflection tactics to make my mind go onto a path that—
“Goooood! He’s so frustrating. Why can’t he just—”
“Because he’s a man, Sis. A man who is used to control and getting what he wants, on his own terms. And I suspect he’s in somewhat of a quandary now that he’s fallen for you,” he points out gently, shaking his head with a scowl. “We men, we aren’t too quick on the uptake. By the time we’ve realized what asses we’ve been, well, it’s usually too late to salvage the situation.”
This doesn’t make me feel any better, because the Vincent I know is ten times more stubborn than the usual man.
“What… I don’t know what to do.”
He toasts me with his empty glass and winks wickedly, giving me his megawatt smile.
“We play him at his own game.”
Chapter Twenty Two
“Stop touching my ass!” I hiss at Jeff, swatting inconspicuously at his hand while we wait in line to get into Cavanaughs’ mansion for the fundraising benefit he’s dragging me to.
“Stop being such a prude, Sis. How else are we supposed to make Blake jealous? He’s not going to respond to anything if we walk around like goddamn brother and sister,” he hisses back, running a hand over the curve of my ass before giving it a hard squeeze and settling his palm right where I don’t want it.
How the heck am I supposed to tell my only guy friend that I’ve been having hot dreams lately, some of which star him as well… What? Don’t judge, it’s hard to stay on track when the only caring guy in my life is sleeping right next door to me.
“You’re such an ass. This isn’t even gonna work.”
I’ve had a lot of time to think about things in the last two days, and I’ve decided that Jeff is wrong. No way in hell does Vincent love me. I mean, the guy hasn’t so much as called me since that night at the exhibition.
Does that seem like a guy who is gaga for a girl? I think not. So I’ve decided that the only thing left to do is to just tell him my little secret and go from there.
Hopefully by the time I work up enough courage something positive will have happened with the Eric situation, and I can start availing myself of that gorgeous apartment Daddy has gotten me.
But first…
“If that hand strays any farther, you’re losing it, Parker.”
I feel him shake behind me and realize he’s laughing his ass off at my predicament. He’s determined to carry out this ‘player plan’ he has going for me, and if I publicly denounce him I won’t only alert the shark to my availability, something I’m not willing to do, but I’ll also cause a huge scene in the midst of a very exclusive set that has decided that I am currently the hot shit in the art world.
Go figure my budding success would bite me in the ass.
“Ah, Mr Parker, so good to see you this evening, sir,” the tall blonde hostess trills from her little podium at the top of the steps.
“Hi, Gail. Mrs Cavanaugh has you working the crowds, I see.”
They flirt a little, and I clench my back teeth so as not to spit a curse at the obviously single and ready for action woman. Can’t she see he’s not available? I mutter to myself, feeling like the third wheel on the bicycle. And anyway, he can’t flirt with another woman, not when I’ve totally decided to set him up with his ex, Julia Gustav, and see where things go.
If I have to watch him go nuclear, or even worse, silent every time a Julia Jenkins fitness commercial comes on, I’m gonna scream. The guy is so obviously still crazy for the woman, and I can’t see why he can’t let the past go and take her back.
With my mission firmly resolved, I pinch his hip brutally and smile sweetly at Gail, showing her enough teeth to scare a shark.
“We’re holding up the line.”
With that I drag him up the remaining steps and into the grand mansion, my mood so dark I hardly notice the décor or the art. Seriously, how the heck am I supposed to get through a night of groping and smug grins if the guy insists on getting his player card punched wherever we go?
I swear, Jeff’s seen more vagina than I have, and I freaking own one!
“Stop being so moody, Sissy bear, it was just a little harmless flirting,” he croons, leaning in to whisper seductively in my ear.
Last night’s weird ass dream makes a reappearance, and I pull back with a sour look and a huff.
“Make up your mind, Parker. You’re either ‘playing the game’ with me or trying to get into another woman’s shorts, not both.”
“But Sissy bear, Blake was watching from the stairs. I needed to give him some incentive. If he thinks I’m nailing you as well as getting some side action, he’s gonna want to save you from my dastardly clutches all the sooner. Just pretend to hang on every word I say and smile through the other shit. Easy.”
“God, I know why you and Julia didn’t work out. You’re an ass,” I groan, enjoying his slight wince at the mention of that name.
What? My cruelty isn’t only for my own enjoyment; I’m trying to keep him focused on my goals here, most of which do not include listening to him bang Gail all night.
“He was watching?”
I have a million things to consider with the way he’s pouring himself all over me and with trying to search out Julia, without alerting him to her presence, and yet I have to go and latch onto that little gem.
Gosh, I am beyond lost over that idiot.
“Yup. In fact, he’s standing right over there, watching us. No! Don’t look, you ninny. Jesus, you’re totally green when it comes to this stuff. Just pretend he doesn’t exist, and it will all go as planned.”
“Of course I’m green! I told you, I don’t play games like this,” I hiss, digging my nails into his arm with relish. “Now stop trying to molest me in public and let’s go get a drink.”
“Uh-uh, mama. No alcohol.”
“Like I’m brain dead. I just want a glass of water or juice.”
God, not being able to drink while I’m being subjected to this level of torture is killing me, but I smile for the first time tonight and lay a hand to my still flat belly, feeling giddy.
My first appointment with the obstetrician is in four days, and I can’t wait!
We get our drinks and start wandering around, waiting for dinner to be called before the silent auction part of the night starts. A half hour later I’m wending my way through the crush, searching in vain for my errant date.
“He’s busy talking to Ederson’s son about a deal their companies are considering.”
I gasp and whip around, feeling my heartbeat accelerate when my eyes focus on the man I’ve been ducking all night.
“Oh, uh, he said he wouldn’t—”
“I made sure he’s occupied for the next thirty minutes at least. Now what say you stop avoiding me and come talk to me?” he grates, taking my wrist in his hard grip and tugging me out of the room and up the wide, curving staircase.
I don’t resist because I know it’s futile, and before I know it we’re in a large guestroom and he’s locking the door, his mouth turning up in a smug smile.
“Start talking.”
He says it as if he knows I’m keeping a dark secret, and I swallow nervously, wringing my fingers into knots as he crosses his arms and leans back against the door, blocking the exit.
“Vincent—”
“No. I did what you asked and gave you time. I cooled it with the phone calls and the texts, and I even managed to stop myself from fucking bringing you back home where you belong. I’ve been patient, dove,” he growls.
That harsh expression sends butterflies to the pit of my stomach, and I tremble, feeling a slow slide of unstoppable desire pool in my sex. I should have known I’d want this—
“Dove,” he barks, cutting off the image of our entwined bodies straining against each other.
>
Fine. If he wants the truth I’ll give it to him, but first I want some answers of my own.
“Before I say another word I want to know what happened that week you went away. Why you froze me out, and what exactly happened with that model.”
I’ve vacillated between being certain that Parker is right and that Vincent hadn’t tapped that stick insect and worrying myself to death with the notion that no hot blooded male would have turned that hottie down. Now I’m just going a little crazy wondering what the hell is going on.
He makes a gurgling sound in the ensuing silence, and I narrow my eyes, struggling to see him through the low light from the one lamp sitting beside the bed.
“I never slept with her. She was useful at the time and accomplished what I wanted, but I never touched her, dove, not like you think,” he confesses, watching me closely. “As for why… I went the tiniest bit bonkers when I saw you with Preston Blake, and…”
I keep my mouth shut against the instant need to comfort him as he peters off, struggling with words. It’s sadistic, the amount of genuine pleasure I’m deriving from seeing Vincent Blake speechless and at a loss for words.
Call me nasty, but I’m very pleased to be the first person to rattle his cage this way. It’s only fair, since I can hardly find my footing since I met the man.
“They’re not good people, and I don’t want you around any of them. Especially that little prick.”
Oh, so he’s recovered, and now he thinks he can throw his weight around.
“Vincent—”
“Enough.”
He’s on me then, and I moan into his mouth as he pulls me close and ravishes me, thrusting his tongue so deep I have no choice but to parry back, needing his taste as much as I need my next breath.
“You’re mine, dove,” he snarls against my lips, one hand thrusting cruelly into my hair to angle me for another brutal, soul shattering kiss.
When he pulls away, our breaths sawing, I notice the soft caress of air on my skin and look down to see my dress pooled at my feet. I’m left in nothing but a pair of tiny panties.
“Fuck. I’m sorry.”
I don’t understand the apology until he wraps his large hands around my waist, lifts me, and tosses me back forcefully. I gasp, getting the breath knocked out of me when I land on the bed with a thump.
Vincent growls and dives at me, his hands and mouth a force of nature as he rips my panties away and buries his head between my legs.
“God, dove, I’ve missed you,” he mumbles, eating at me with a desperation I’ve never seen from him.
Vincent is usually all suave and slow, using his immense willpower against me in a show of fatal seduction and torturously slow pleasure. Now, though, I can’t even catch my breath as he uses his tongue and teeth to eat me to an orgasm that knocks me breathless.
“Oh, oh, God,” I wail, thrusting a hand into his hair to keep him centered right where I need him.
The orgasm sends small aftershocks of bliss straight through my core, and I moan, loudly, when the sensation of his flicking tongue becomes too much.
I attempt to push him away, needing time to let the oversensitive flutters calm, but he growls and pushes closer, burying his face in my crotch.
“Don’t. Not yet,” he begs. “I need you so badly.”
Everything that’s been wallowing in an invisible well of grief and fury snaps loose inside me, and I feel the last vestiges of my resentment flutter away to be replaced by the scarily intense emotions of love and need.
I’ve been fueling my bitterness relentlessly lately, anything to fool myself into thinking that I can move on and live my life without him. Not because I don’t know that I can’t, but because I’d needed the chance to believe that if we don’t get back together, at least I won’t turn into some sort of hopeless wreck.
Now, as I pull his head away, I know that I’ve been lying to him, and more importantly to myself. I want him, no matter what. I just need to find a way to have him without losing myself in the process.
“Dove.”
“Oh, shut up and fuck me, Vincent,” I mutter, smiling when he surges up and thrusts home in one move, his entire muscled frame shuddering with relief.
“Oh, dove.”
I shudder and writhe under his possession, my body gearing up for another, stronger climax as he levers himself up on his arms and pulls back slowly, only to shuttle back in with a power that wrings the air from my lungs.
“Say it, dove. Please.”
I shake my head, denying him that one last stamp of possession, and rear up instead, sealing my mouth to his. I kiss him with every scrap of denied and pent up desire that’s been torturing me for over a month, and enjoy his shock when I nip at his lip.
The movement startles him for a second before he smiles darkly and grabs my ass, pulling me closer and pushing in, going as deep as he can.
The deeper he goes, the harder it is for me to maintain the slight emotional distance, and I scrape my fingernails down his back, needing to mark him for myself if he’s intent on pushing me so hard and so fast.
My nails meet fabric instead, and I rear up, squinting. The bastard is still fully clothed!
“That’s it, dove, take me,” he groans, burying his face in my neck with a groan of sheer joy.
“You’re…ah…still dressed,” I mumble, biting my lips against the urge to let go and come.
I want this time to be a mutually shared moment, not another instance of his mastery over my body.
“Let go,” I gasp, clutching spasmodically at his ass when a series of warning ripples attack my swollen sex. “Together. Please.”
My wailed plea is all it takes for Vincent to let himself off the leash, and I gasp anew at his strength when he pummels into me, his body going tight with the approach of his own climax.
When he stiffens and grits his teeth, his mint green eyes focused on me, I feel the heat of his release and let myself freefall, my body exploding in a blast of the most intense pleasure I’ve ever known.
Our breaths are hard and labored as we lie quietly, just enjoying the afterglow of making love for the first time. I know the difference now, and I know that, no matter how much of an ass he can be, Vincent has just made love to me.
Honestly, desperately, and without the seduction tactics he usually employs.
The moment is golden, and I feel a distinct sense of loss when he pulls out and stands, his eyes focusing on me as he rearranges his clothing and hold out a hand to pull me to my feet and into his embrace.
“Tell me you and Parker aren’t together,” he rasps, his arms going rigid as I cuddle closer with a purr. “My guys told me…you’re living with him?”
I want to giggle and snort at the question because I know that it’s not a question as much as an accusation, but I resist and pull back an inch to look up and into his molten eyes.
“I was too jittery to go to the apartment my father got me,” I say, pushing a lock of his black hair back into place. “Jeffrey Parker and I are friends, Vincent.”
The explanation seems to do the trick, and he relaxes, his eyes heating again as he smiles slowly and pulls me in for another kiss, this one a slow, seductive glide of wet lips and tongue.
“You don’t need Parker to look after you, dove. You have me,” he murmurs, licking at me.
My brain scrambles in different directions as he teases my mouth, and I push back reluctantly to shake my head.
“I know what you’re doing, you devil, and it won’t work. Using your kisses against me is forbidden.”
“Ah, but you love my kisses, dove,” he purrs, the intensity of before gone, now that he’s gotten what he wants.
That reminds me of the reason I willingly followed him up here in the first place, and I push away, needing the safety of my clothes and some distance.
When I’m dressed, despite Vincent’s dramatic groan of protest, I stalk over to the wall and hit the lights, turning to face him with no small amount of nerves.
Chapter Twenty Three
I see him tense at my tone before he nods and gestures toward the seating area, his manners kicking in as he waits for me to sit before taking his own seat.
“If you’re going to tell me to get lost again, dove, I’m afraid I—”
“No, Vincent.” I swallow nervously and pick at the chiffon lining of my deep blue dress. “I should have told you when you came over at Thanksgiving, but I-I needed some time to think, and then, I kind of lost my nerve,” I confess, feeling guilt eat at me.
“What is it, dove?” he asks, shuffling a hand through his hair. “Nothing you can tell me will change anything. Don’t be nervous.”
I snort silently, thinking miserably that everything’s going to change.
His quiet strength only serves to wind me tighter, and I shiver, bringing my gaze up to his. It’s now or never, I think, sucking in a deep breath to steady the wild racing of my heart.
I’ve been assuming that he’ll be happy—wishful thinking, I know—but now that I’m about to tell him I wonder if Vincent will be as happy as I want him to be. He’s a tycoon playboy, used to getting his way and doing what he wants.
What if a baby cramps his style?
Well, too damn bad! You didn’t knock yourself up, sugar!
With that conviction spurring me on I bite the bullet and just blurt it out, closing my eyes against his intense stare.
“I’m pregnant.”
The air around me freezes, and I keep my eyes tightly shut like a coward, not wanting to see it if he’s not happy. I know it sounds foolish, but I’d rather not know if this news is not welcome.
I love him too much to hate him, but I’m dreadfully afraid that if he disappoints me in this I just might.
The soft brush of gentle fingers over my heated cheeks startles me, and I open my misty eyes to see Vincent kneeling at my feet, a look of wonder on his handsome face.
“You cannot begin to understand how truly happy you’ve made me, dove,” he whispers brokenly, stroking at the tear tracks making their way down my cheeks.
“Really? You aren’t mad? I didn’t do it on purpose,” I whisper, leaning into his touch, wanting him to believe that I’m not some psycho out to trap him.
JACE (Lane Brothers Book 3) Page 24
