High Stakes
Page 17
“What’s wrong?” His hands roam all over me. Kisses are dropped on every inch of my back, making my skin tingle. “Talk to me.”
“Don’t stop,” I plead. I do not want to talk about anything else right now.
But he does stop and turns us around.
“Talk to me,” he repeats, laying me down on my back. His eyes, the look behind them, has a soft, tender look. It makes my heart lurch to my throat. I don’t know if it’s because he’s imploring me to talk to him or if it’s something else. I don’t want to even think about that right now.
I grip his shoulders and smash my lips to his. I can’t get distracted, can’t let silly little looks confuse me.
He pushes my legs apart, but instead of taking things further, he leans on top of me and locks our lips in the deepest, smoldering kiss he’s ever given to me. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart,” he says, and now I know we were both just thinking about all the shit I just told him. “You got me now, okay? I got you, and you got me, and you’ll never have to go through something like that ever again. I promise you that.”
“Does that mean you’re not going to disappear on me again?” I whisper.
“No, I’m never leaving you alone again.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
The past few weeks have brought a different vibe to my life. Blaire never actually says she’s moved, but her lacking presence in the house speaks volumes. Things have been better for it though—not for our relationship, but for my sanity. Julian comes over whenever he wants, Hope crashes whenever she wants, and I don’t have to worry about Blaire losing her shit over petty little things that don’t matter. I do try and text her as often as possible, like I’m doing now, and sometimes she answers. Most times she doesn’t.
When my phone rings in my hand, my heart rate speeds up at the sight of Julian’s name and a picture I’d snuck of him popping up. I can typically tell what kind of day he’s having, or the kind of day he’s anticipating, just by the timing of his calls. When I’m woken up by a phone call, I know I won’t hear from him for the rest of the day because he has a long day ahead of him. In the same token, if I don’t get an early call, I know to expect one sometime in the early evening, around the time I normally start getting ready for work, and that means I won’t be seeing him at work. But this call is neither early or late.
“Well, hello,” I purr into the phone. Cool points be damned, I’m happy to hear from him, and I know the more I show it, the more he’s likely to keep it up. “To what do I owe the pleasure of a spontaneous Julian phone call?”
His laugh is deep and husky. “Oh, the usual. I want to see you.”
“Me too. I always want to see you.”
“Good. Get dressed. I want you to go somewhere with me tonight.”
“Aww man, I can’t. I have to work tonight.”
“Don’t worry about going into work tonight. It’s already been handled.”
Feigning insult crosses my mind for two seconds, but it doesn’t last long. After all, there has to be some perks in sleeping with the boss.
“Where are you taking me then, and what should I wear?” I ask, excited we're doing something this specific weekend.
“Where I’m taking you is a secret for now, but as far as what you should wear, that’s been handled too.”
There’s a knock on the door as soon as he finishes his statement. I know it’s him. Sure enough, he’s at my door, surprisingly dressed in casual clothes, but with one single rose in his hand.
“Hello,” he says, grinning.
“Hey you.” I reach up for a hug, ushering him inside.
“Are you ready?” he asks, passing on my offer for a drink and to sit down.
“Oh.” I glance down at what I’m wearing, which is just normal house clothes. “I can be ready, give me a few minutes?”
“You look fine. Let’s go.” He grabs my hand, leading us both out the door and toward the car, barely patient enough to let me grab my purse and lock the door behind us.
Less than twenty minutes later, he takes a turn down a road I’m not familiar with. Before I have the chance to question if we’re lost, the road opens up and a small building appears overhead. In the parking lot next to it stands a row of small airplanes.
I perk up in my seat, the adrenaline surging through me, making me giddy.
“Are you flying it?” I ask.
“That would be a no.” Julian helps me out of the car and leads me toward the plane. “Even if I could fly though, I’d rather spend the time close to you instead of in a cockpit.”
“A what kind of pit?” I laugh, walking up the retractable stairs.
“Someone’s feisty today.” He curls his hand around my ass and pulls me to him. “Ever fucked on a plane?”
“Can’t say that I have.” I look around, taking it all in. Technically, it would just feel like we’re fucking in a living room with the way the plane is set up.
He pins me to the couch. Lacing his hands with mine, he pulls them over my head as he drops his lips to mine, pushes my pants down and licks every bit of exposed skin he can find.
I writhe underneath him. My skin is a livewire at the mercy of his wet tongue. His lips ghost over and suck at flesh, his fingers are inside me, and even though my eyes are closed, I know his are focused on my face.
“Yes,” I breathe, hoping he understands everything I can’t find the words for right now.
“Louder,” he moves his mouth away from me long enough to command.
My yeses become a chant, gaining traction, getting louder and longer, taking on more syllables than necessary as he fucks me with his fingers and his tongue.
One of my shoulders lifts on its own as my leg starts to shake. My chants are replaced by strangled breathing. I shut my eyes tight and feel as my face contorts and waves of pleasure pelt me over and over.
“Holy shit.”
“Welcome to Louisville,” the pilot announces over the intercom.
I cock an eyebrow at Julian. I’m not sure where I’d expected us to end up, but Kentucky seems kind of random.
“In the mood for some authentic fried chicken?” I tease.
He rolls his eyes as he helps me out of my seat and down the retractable stairs.
At the end of the tarmac, a driver greets us with a wide smile on his face. “Mr. and Mrs. Caine.” He nods, pulling the car door open for me.
I wait for Julian to correct the driver, letting him know we’re not Mister and Missus anything, but he doesn’t, and that causes butterflies in my stomach. The ride is quiet as Julian fiddles on his phone and I take in my surroundings, noticing buildings and a few statues I’m sure are considered landmarks, but I know nothing about. The car comes to a stop when we pull up to a gate, and the driver rolls his window down to punch a long string of numbers into the keypad to his right.
“Where are we?” I look around, trying to make it out.
Julian smiles, squeezing my hand. “You’ll see.”
We drive through the gate and up a long winding driveway, up to a massive house surrounded by acres and acres of bright green grass and no neighbors in sight. I stare in awe as I climb out of the car, leaving Julian and the driver to talk amongst themselves.
“It’s about time you guys got here,” a female voice cuts into the air as soon as we walk into the house.
I tense at the familiar voice. Surely that’s not who I think it is.
“Chantel?” I purse my lips when I turn around and see her standing at the edge of the room, a glass in her hand and a smirk on her face.
“Told you I knew more than you realized.” She lifts what I notice is a champagne flute as if making a toast.
I don’t get it, not one bit, and I’m not sure I like it either.
“Where’s Pierce?” Julian asks her.
“Taking a leak.” Chantel downs her drink. “Babe!” she calls out. “Julian and Selena are here.”
Babe? “I am so confused,” I murmur, while everyone else seems at ease.
“I need a drink!” I declare to... well, whoever is listening. I might not know what’s going on, but I know I don’t plan on going through it sober.
“Let the boys talk,” Chantel says. “There are drinks in the kitchen.”
I almost don’t want to go with her, too confused to function. Seriously, why is she here?
“It’s okay,” Julian whispers, dropping a kiss on my cheek.
Agreeing with a forced smile, I say, “Fine, but if I’m not out in five minutes, come in and get me.”
“Go.” He smacks my ass, making me yelp in surprise.
Slowly, I follow Chantel into the kitchen and her smile drops as soon as we’re out of view from the guys. That’s more like it.
“I need you to be straight with me. Did you and Pierce ever fuck?” she asks.
My eyes go wide. “Is this some sort of joke? What are you doing here, and why are you here?” It sounds like the same question, but it’s not. Her plans for being here and what Pierce, or Julian, brought her here for are two different things.
“It’s complicated.” She waves a dismissive hand.
“Uncomplicate it for me.” I take a step back and cross my arms over my chest.
“Me and Pierce, we...” She pauses, sucking on the side of her cheek. “We have history. And we’re trying to work it out, but I know for a fact he made a play for you, or at least that your sister made the play for him, but whatever. He told me nothing happened, but even I have my limits. If you guys fucked, then me and him are going to have some problems.”
“We didn’t fuck.”
“Good.” The tension in her shoulders visibly drop. Too bad it doesn’t drop from mine. She didn’t really answer my question.
“So then why are you here?”
“Didn’t think I’d miss the most exciting two minutes of the year, did you?” She winks and starts pouring drinks into four glasses. “The guys make a killing while we’re here. I’m glad you could make it this year though. Julian’s lame when he’s here alone.”
“I—” I snap my mouth shut because I have no idea what to say or what I was about to say. She seems to know a lot about the guys, like she’d hinted at already, but how much does she really know is the question, and how much of that knowledge is she willing to share with me? Not to mention, it seems like she has the knack to talk in code like they do. “What kind of killing?”
“Ladies,” Julian's voice calls from the other room. Chantel snatches up three glasses and darts out of the kitchen, with no indication of whether or not she heard my question.
I take the last drink and down whatever’s in it, then step out into the open room, and walk toward the group slowly. Chantel is already hanging all over Pierce, and the both of them are whispering to Julian.
“We have some things to take care of.” Julian points between him and Pierce, while staring at me. Sliding his hand into his back pocket, he pulls out his wallet then slides me a black card.
I know what it is, and I reach for it without hesitation, though I’m not sure why I need it.
His eyes squint at me, and he pulls his hand back before I can take the credit card.
“Leave,” he says to Pierce, who nods and grabs Chantel’s hand. They both haul ass, and for a second I’m both turned on and anxious about the way Julian seems to dominate over everyone, even his friends.
“What’s wrong?” Julian asks, stepping close to me once they’re out of the room, or maybe even out of the house if the way they booked it out of here is an indication.
I mash my lips together. We both know how I can get sometimes, and nothing brings out my sarcasm the way confusion and feeling out of the loop does. I really, really don’t want to ruin whatever Julian has planned, no matter how weird this all seems.
“What, can’t speak all of the sudden?” He slides his fingers through my belt loops and yanks me flush against him.
“I’m just confused,” I admit.
“What would you like me to clear up for you?” He drops his forehead to mine.
I shrug him off and take a step back. Being too close to him fogs my brain, and I think he knows that. “You can start by clearing up what we’re doing here and why Chantel and Pierce are here too. I kind of thought...” I shrug, not finishing my statement. I feel a little embarrassed now because maybe my initial guess of the trip's purpose is wrong.
He takes a step forward to make up for the space I’d put between us. With both hands on my hips this time, he pulls me flush against him and grinds himself into me. “You thought we’d be alone? We will be. They’re not staying here with us.”
“Slow down, lover boy.” I stop him with a hand to his chest. “What’s the card for?”
“The card” —he says slowly— “is because I told you what you should wear will be handled. Chantel is here because she is going to be the one to help you handle it.” He waves a hand in front of me. “She’ll be better equipped to tell you what you should get.”
“I guess that makes sense.” I nearly frown, almost disappointed at such a simple answer. Again, I don’t know what I’d expected his answer to be, but that wouldn’t have been it.
“Are we good now?” He slides the card back in my hand.
I nod. “For now.”
Chantel and I end up in a small boutique surrounded by clothes that aren’t really my style, boasting price tags I can’t afford.
“We might need help getting hats for Saturday,” Chantel says politely to a chick standing near the cash register. Turning to me, she adds, “Once we know what hats we’re wearing, then we can pick out our dresses. Somewhere else,” she whispers the last part.
I finally take it all in: the obnoxious hats, the tea-length party dresses, and then right on the wall, a golden plaque of a horse in running position.
“Of course!” I actually facepalm.
“Shhh,” Chantel scolds with a smile on her face. “We have to act dignified.”
“Sorry,” I say, not sorry at all. “I just realized what we’re doing here.”
“You mean buying hats?” she says each word slowly and purposely. A fellow smartass—I can dig it.
“Well, yeah, that too, but I mean, are we really going to the Kentucky Derby?” The idea thrills me in a weird way. It’s never been on my bucket list, but shit it doesn’t matter!
“What did you think we were doing here?”
“I didn’t think anything,” I lie.
“Okay, then what did you think I meant when I said we were witnessing the two most exciting minutes of the year? That’s, literally, the quote for the Derby. Plus, didn’t Julian tell you?”
“He didn’t tell me anything. Just that he wanted me to go somewhere with him and my work schedule and clothes would be handled.”
Her eyes flutter closed for a second as she sighs. “That is so hot.”
“Yeah, I guess.” I shrug, fingering a feather on one of the nearby fascinators that really looks more like a headband with a peacock feather more than anything else.
“You guess? Girl, you better let him spoil you. And if you’re one of those girls who are opposed to that kind of thing, well shit, buy a whole bunch of shit and give it to me.”
“I’m not against the whole spoiling thing. It’s just... well, I thought he was taking me somewhere for my birthday.” Why I admit this to Chantel, I don’t know, but I needed to get it out. Immediately, I feel better at having the chance to express my misguided disappointment aloud. Although I’m not disappointed anymore, after realizing why we’re here. I’ll be celebrating regardless. Julian just won’t know it.
Chantel’s expression softens, and she tilts her head. “When’s your birthday?”
“Tuesday.”
“Oh, well, did you tell him it�
��s your birthday?”
“No.”
She scratches the side of her face. “Then how was he supposed to know?”
“I get that, trust me, but this is Julian we’re talking about. He probably knows my blood type.”
She laughs, yanking a way too big hat over her head. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he did.”
“That looks amazing on you,” the saleslady descends, clearly thirsty as hell for the sale.
Chantel and I both snort because she’s full of shit, and we all can see she looks like a complete fool right now, but hey, I can’t knock the sales girl’s hustle. I pluck a random hat from a nearby display, while Chantel takes a little longer to pick out what she deems is the perfect one, before we make our way to another store.
“Can we talk?” I ask her, letting some of her earlier comments seep back to the forefront of my mind. I was shocked to see her, but she’d clearly been expecting us, and she also made it seem like this was normal fodder for not just her but the guys too.
“Okay,” she says slowly.
“How long have you known the guys?”
“I feel like I’ve known them forever,” she says breezily, giving me hope she won’t be too guarded with me.
“You didn’t like me at first,” I say, more than ask.
“Nope.”
“Because of Pierce, or was it something else?”
She nods. “He and I have been on and off forever. And we’ve been through... a lot.” She grimaces, clearly remembering something. “We probably take more breaks than any other couple I know, but you can’t help who you love, right? Anyway,” she continues, without waiting for me to answer. “I’m pretty good at pretending to just be his friend when we’re on our breaks, but what that means is I always know what he’s up to, both good and bad, and I knew when he was trying to push up on you.”