Enlightened End

by Audrey Carlan

  “I’m going to take that as a challenge.” She smirks.

  “You do that.” I squeeze her leg but leave my hand where it is all the way into town and to the valet at the Four Seasons where the event is being held.

  “Wow.” She gazes out the window seemingly taken with the beauty of the hotel.

  I look at only her. “That’s what I said to myself the first time.”

  “The first time you saw the hotel?”

  I run my knuckle down her bare arm. “No, the first time I saw you.”

  Chapter Five

  If your crown chakra is overactive, you may start to have feelings of superiority and aggression toward others as well as a tendency to be judgmental or critical.

  LUNA

  Grant holds my hand as we walk up the steps of the stunning hotel. I’ve never been to the Four Seasons—never had reason to. Honestly, I’ve never been a lot of places. Mexico on a wild weekend with the yoga girls, Hawaii with my mother, Nevada since it’s so close to drive to Lake Tahoe and beyond to Reno. That’s about it. I’ve spent the better part of my days, weeks, and years at Lotus House. From the time I could walk and all through my twenties. Now at twenty-eight, I’m regretting that I have not traveled more. Definitely helps me understand why my mom and Crystal would have the travel bug in their sixties.

  “Thank you for bringing me.” I squeeze Grant’s hand, and he cocks his head to the side and smiles.

  “Lamb, we just got here. You haven’t experienced anything yet.” He chuckles.

  I run my hand down my skirt, making sure it’s perfectly in place after having sat in the car. “I know. It’s just, well, I don’t get out much. Dressing up is a treat. So thank you for thinking to bring me.”

  Grant shakes his head, grinning. “You are one of a kind, Luna. Absolutely no one in this world is like you.”

  I ease closer to his side and pair my steps with his. “As are you. We are all perfect just as we are. Meant to be where we are today. Every step, every decision has led us to this very moment, and right now, I’m feeling very thankful.”

  He tucks me closer to his side and places his arm around my back, curling his hand on my waist. “As am I. Thankful, that is.”

  We walk silently through the throngs of hotel patrons, up the elevator, and to the level where the ballrooms are located.

  “What’s the charity?” I ask.

  “Foster care.”

  I stop where I stand and shove at his chest excitedly. “Why didn’t you tell me? My best friend was in foster care. And you raise money for it?”

  He glances around and runs a hand through his hair. “Yeah, we do. One of the board members and top investors in Winters Group was a foster care kid. Built himself up from nothing. Attributes his experiences and drive to his time in foster care. He was one of the lucky ones who received good placement with a nice, normal family. However, that is not always the case. He’s committed his life to ensuring foster kids get good placement and move on to adoption.”

  I jump up, wrap my arms around his shoulders, and lay a fat one on him. He isn’t prepared for my exuberant attack, so he falls back on one foot but has the strength to hold me securely as we kiss. His lips are warm and soft with a hint of espresso. I nibble on his bottom lip until he opens, where I dip my tongue inside to taste the rich flavor direct from the source. He moans as I flick my tongue against his. He wraps his arms around my waist, smashing my chest against his and holding me close. Everything around us just disappears when our lips touch. My focus is on him and him alone. The little noises he makes in the back of his throat, the way he breathes through his nose, the way his hands can never stay idle and run up and down my back, caressing me into a deeper submission.

  For a long time, we kiss, standing in the middle of the hallway. I’m unfazed by where we are, focused solely on being close to Grant in this moment. Soaking up the connection that whispers through my body every time we touch. It’s a feeling I can no more define than stop from occurring. It just is. Besides, I’ll happily kiss my man anywhere.

  My man.

  Just as the thought strikes my heart, a loud booming voice breaks through our bubble of building lust.

  “Son!” I hear blurted from behind us.

  Grant’s body goes rigid, and an unease fills the air around his form, clouding our beautiful moment. He clutches at my back, his shoulders rising up. He twirls me around so fast I almost lose my footing, but he’s there, tucking me against his side, locking me in place. Which works for me because I’m a little light-headed from our awesome kiss, not to mention the jolt to my psyche.

  He’s not exactly my man, I remind myself. He’s a man. The man I keep willingly putting my mouth on, but it’s not as if he’s mine. Especially if he’s going to destroy Lotus House and the entire street. I can’t be with someone who would purposely destroy the most important thing in my life and leave me homeless.

  Could I?

  There are far too many questions to consider at this moment. I need to work out my personal feelings when I’m not tucked to the man in question’s side like a boneless Gumby doll. As my thoughts scatter, an older replica of Grant stands before us, a little bit shorter, maybe by an inch or two. His hair is dark brown, with salt and pepper strands kissing the edges of his hairline. His hair is slicked into a perfect gentleman’s haircut. His eyes are also blue, only not as pretty, more of a gray-blue than deep sapphire. He’s wearing a black suit, which fits his athletic frame to a T. On his arm is a tall, very slender blonde. Her dress is also short, far shorter than mine, just barely covering her bottom, and it’s a standout lipstick red. The top is cut in a very cleavage-revealing style, whereas mine is a tank style that cuts modestly straight across the top. It is a charity event after all.

  The girl next to the man, who has to be Grant’s father, is smacking gum like a cow chewing cud, sloppily and audibly. The woman is so young she looks like she could have just graduated high school. She looks Grant over, seemingly uninterested in anything other than how good my guy looks.

  “Father.” Grant speaks so low it comes out as a rumble and not an altogether pleasant one.

  “Son, say hello to Kiki, your mother.”

  His mother! No way! I mentally work hard to hold my mouth shut.

  “She’s not my mother. Stepmother number six,” he practically growls before straightening his shoulders and muttering, “Hello, Kiki. Try to keep your hands to yourself this evening,” he warns and wraps an arm firmly around my shoulder, making no attempt to introduce me. Which is totally rude, but it’s also obvious he doesn’t care to introduce me to someone he very clearly does not like.

  I shimmy out of his hold and extend my hand. “Hello, I’m Luna Marigold. It’s lovely to meet you both.”

  Kiki smacks her gum and smiles wide. “Hiya. I can totally show you where the bar is. They give you all the drinks you want at these things, and you don’t even have to pay. You can get trashed without ever spending a dime on the snot-nosed kids.” She beams, and I lose any shred of respect I may have had for her.

  Snot-nosed kids? These are foster children she’s referring to. Now I get why Grant’s tone was clipped and his body language spoke volumes of disdain.

  I grind my teeth and firm my resolve. “Not a big drinker, Kiki, but thank you for the tip.” I shoot for civil.

  Grant reaches an arm back around me just as Mr. Winters takes my hand. He brings it to his lips and kisses it. “Grant Winters Senior. Luna, was it?”

  I try to pull my hand back, but he doesn’t let it go, continuing to hold it to his face far longer than is appropriate, making me extremely uncomfortable. “Yep. Like the moon. My mother’s a hippie. What can I say?”

  Grant pulls my arm away from his father’s hold with a growl. “You don’t have to say anything, lamb. I think I hear them requesting that we take our seats.”

  “Son, I’m surprised at you,” his father says before Grant can fully lead me away. When we stop and look back at him, he continues. “S
he’s a redhead with curves. You don’t date redheads. They are fiery. Which can be great in the sack, but hell and damnation out of it.”

  I gasp, floored that his father would be so bold and so crass, stereotyping me on the basis of my hair color alone.

  “No, Father, you don’t date redheads because my mother was one. She left us high and dry, and you haven’t gotten over it. I, on the other hand, have.”

  His father’s expression turns into a menacing scowl. “Boy, you better watch yourself…”

  Grant doesn’t wait for him to finish his chastisement. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’m going to take my beautiful date and get her a drink. Come on, Luna.”

  On his final word, he tugs me by the hand and leads me into the ballroom. Its magnificence momentarily makes me forget the weird meet and greet we had with Grant’s father and stepmother. The woman is younger than me and probably barely out of college, if she even went to college. If her goal in life was to look pretty and play trophy wife, then she’s got her role down pat.

  Gold chandeliers glitter over the giant space. At one end, there is a stage with a podium. The charity’s banner hangs behind it.

  Without speaking, Grant leads me over to one of the bars in the corner. “Scotch neat, two fingers. Lamb, what would you like to drink?” He finally turns to me, his face a mask of professionalism, but I can see the underlying anger simmering there. I run my hand from his shoulder to his elbow.

  “A white wine would be great. Thank you.”

  “White wine for the lady.” Grant tosses a twenty-dollar bill into the metal tip jar.

  Twenty bucks. Wow. Big tipper.

  The bartender is young, and when he sees the twenty, he pours Grant a much larger serving than two fingers—more like three.

  Before I can even take a sip, Grant is gulping back half of his. I rest my hand on his wrist. “Talk to me about it. Don’t drink your troubles away.”

  “I hate my father.”

  “Grant, hate is a very strong word…”

  “I hate him. It’s all about money with him. All the time. And, of course, the latest piece of ass he up and marries. Do you know he has five women he pays alimony to? Five.” He stresses the last word and shakes his head, disgust rife in his features.

  I suck in a slow breath and sip my wine, mulling over that bit of information. “Yes, I can see how that would be very trying for any one person to manage.”

  “He uses women. Hell, he uses everyone.” His words say more about his relationship with his father than I imagine he wants to. He obviously thinks his father uses him too, which makes my heart hurt for Grant.

  “But we’re here…” I use my arm to gesture to the room at large. “A charity event. So at the very least, we can do some real good here. Change how you are feeling about your father and enjoy the evening. Were you planning on making a contribution to the charity tonight?”

  He firms his jaw, and a muscle in his cheek ticks. I wait patiently while he breathes in and out. “Yeah.”

  “A sizable amount?” I confirm.

  He sighs. “Yeah, a couple hundred thousand. I’ve got the check in my jacket.” He pats his chest, where I’m assuming the check is. He scans the area but doesn’t seem to really be looking at anything. Unless he’s making sure he’s far away from his father. His eyes look tired. Red rims with purple smudges darken the skin just under those pretty sapphires.

  I run a hand down his arm and intertwine our fingers. He glances down the second our hand chakras ignite. He squeezes and lets out a lengthy sigh. “You’re so good for me. Just your touch calms the raging fire I want to let loose on my old man.”

  I kiss the back of his hand. “You’re allowed to lean on my energy when you’re feeling depleted. I give it freely.”

  His lips quirk into a half smile. It’s a start.

  “I see your smile trying to break free. Come on. This is a charitable event, and you have money to donate. Let’s go donate it. I’ll bet you’ll feel better once you do,” I taunt.

  Grant lowers his head and slides his nose next to mine. He inhales deeply. “Melons. You always smell like fruity melons. Makes my mouth water, lamb. If you’re not careful, I could take a bite out of you when you’re not looking.” He presses his face into the space where my neck and shoulder meet. He sniffs loudly. “Mmm.” He presses small kisses against that spot. Gooseflesh rises on my skin, and an intense heat simmers in my gut, warming me, especially the space between my thighs. Once Grant stops kissing my neck, he drags his teeth along the column and bites down, swirling his tongue around where he bit.

  “Fuck,” he groans, and my eyes roll back into my head. My wine sloshes as I lose my sense of self under his magic touch.

  “Whoa!” He grips my hip with his free hand. “You are so responsive, baby. I can’t wait to see how you react when I really have my mouth on you.”

  A burst of arousal roars through my body, making my sex feel tight and achy. “Grant…stop it.”

  Finally, his face clears of his earlier anger and lightens when he smiles. “Stop what? Turning you on?” He leans his forehead against mine and chuckles.

  “Yes!” I bite back.

  “Never,” he teases and nips my lips.

  I kiss him back, all too briefly for my liking. When he pulls away, he leads me away from our quiet spot. “Come on. We’ve got money to give.”

  * * *

  Shortly after Grant gave the CEO of the charity the check for two hundred thousand dollars, the night went from a shitty meeting with his dad to a dancing-all-night blast! The CEO was beyond thrilled with the very generous contribution and made a big mention of it on the podium, thanking Grant and the Winters Group personally.

  After the announcements were made, food was passed out, and I ate my weight in filet mignon, garlic mashed potatoes, and grilled veggies, I found out my big man was a fantastic dancer. He pulled me around the dance floor as if dancing was second nature to him.

  After an amazing evening, Grant leads me to his super fly car. It’s a shimmery gold metallic that not only looks expensive, it practically growls expensive when he fires it up. “You know, you’ve really got the moves on the dance floor,” I announce happily, back in his car. The new-car-and-leather smell fills the air and mixes with Grant’s wood-and-spice scent, creating an aroma extravaganza.

  Grant grins and looks at me sideways. “Lamb, I’ve got all the moves. Just you wait and see.”

  “Oh yeah?” I say coyly, running my hand from his knee to his upper thigh.

  “Be careful,” he warns. “You don’t want to start something you’re not prepared to finish.” He winks and looks back at the road ahead.

  A sense of defiance ripples up my chest and out my mouth in a second flat. “Oh, I can finish. Just because you think I’m sweet and innocent doesn’t mean I don’t get biz-zee in the bedroom.” I slur a little. “I’ll have you know, I’m insanely flexible. I can put my legs behind my head…and I can leave them there for a solid twenty minutes.” I pucker my lips and blow a kiss.

  “Christ on a cracker!” Grant bites out. “Damn it, Luna. Nothing’s going to take that visual away.” He adjusts his crotch with one hand.

  I smile with smug pride.

  “All the yogis I know are very sexual creatures because we each put our body, mind, and soul into each sexual experience.” I shift in my seat, focusing all my attention on him as he drives.

  Grant drives the vehicle the same way he does everything. With confidence and dedication. It’s a very mind-melting quality that has me squirming in my seat as I imagine those long fingers of his no longer gripping the wheel but gripping me…cupping my sex with that same determination. A flutter picks up in my clit as I imagine him working me with those hands.

  My mouth opens, and unfiltered words spill out. Darn wine. “I don’t know about you, but I think sex is amazing. And I haven’t had any complaints, so without being Braggy McBraggerton, I think I’m pretty good at it.” Four glasses of wine is making my lips lo
ose. Far looser than I’d normally be on a first real date.

  “Braggy McBraggerton?” he queries on a chuckle.

  “Yeah. You know, when you brag too much.”

  “Lamb…I know what you mean; however, you need to get this through your head right now and let it sink in.” His midnight-blue eyes focus with the severity of what he says next. “I’m not going to fuck you.”

  “You aren’t?” I frown, and the niggling feeling of being undesirable works its way into my psyche. “Why?” I bite into my lip and try not to tear up. The wine is making me extremely emotional and horny. Let’s not forget horny. “You don’t want me?” My voice comes out so small and shaken I’m surprised he hears it at all.

  Grant yanks the steering wheel toward the curb and parks right in front of the bakery. I didn’t even realize we were already so close to my place.

  “Luna, you’ve had a bottle of wine go to your head. I’d be no man at all if I took advantage of you in this state. We’ve had a great night, one I’ll never forget. I can’t remember the last time I actually had fun at one of these required events. You reminded me what giving to charity really feels like. And it was good. All good, baby. Which is why I’m not going to ruin that by fucking you.”

  I cringe. “Not if I’m willing! You’re not taking advantage of me if I’m willing.” I press my hands to his chest and run them down to his rock-hard abs. “And I’m so willing.”

  He grabs my hands and brings them to his mouth. He kisses one set of fingers and then the other. “As am I, but it doesn’t change the fact that I’m not going to do something you might regret tomorrow.”

  I frown. “That’s stupid, you know. I would never regret having great sex, and, Grant, I’m a good lay,” I state tipsily with as much confidence as my wine-addled brain will allow.

  He laughs heartily. “I have no doubt. And I’m going to very much enjoy the time where you are once again open to that, but lamb, you’ve had too much to drink, and I’m wiped.”