A rap on his office door stirred Jacob’s insides. A petite woman peered in and smiled. Miranda strolled across the room wearing her signature black stilettos with a black trench coat wound tightly around her frame.
“Mr. Andrews, I came as soon as I could.” She stopped before his desk, hands behind her back. Her small body swayed side to side. An innocent smile flashed across her round face. He chuckled inside.
When he rose, he rolled up his sleeves. Her eyes shifted to the bulge trying to escape the confines of his dress slacks.
“Miranda.” The word slipped out like a prayer to forget the one he loved. He kissed her delicate red lips followed by each flushed cheek. “What are you hiding under here?”
He yanked the belt from her coat, and it opened, revealing nothing but a dainty buxom figure and a small landing strip barely covering her folds. An animal-like desire to fuck traveled to his already painful hard-on.
“I thought: Why waste time with clothes, Sir?” She giggled and blinked her mocha chocolate eyes.
“You thought right.” The light and shadows highlighted her curvy frame perfectly. How would he have her? He snatched her hips like a vise, rubbing her cleft along his erection. A yelp escaped her. This would be quick.
Their eyes locked as she nodded her understanding. Loneliness was their calling card. Two friends who gave each other solace and comfort when the desolation became too much.
He slid the coat off her shoulders and stepped back. Were her clenched hands a sign of trepidation or anticipation? She liked when he stared. Her nipples tightened, and her large breasts swelled. She bit her lip, obviously waiting for him to strike.
He hated using her, but the primal impulse to fuck needed to be sated. This moment wouldn’t fix his rapacious need for Shane. It wouldn’t change his betrayal when he’d bought out Icarus Descending. It was a temporary Band-Aid for his self-inflicted wounds.
He gritted his teeth and scooped her up. Her legs wrapped around his waist. Lips smashed together. She removed the tie holding his hair and tugged at the roots, the tension burning his scalp. Sublime pain tingled along his spine. That’s it. Quick and dirty.
He set her down on the arm of the couch, which partitioned the large seating area in his office. Ripping his lips from the heated kiss, Jacob spun her around, shoulders slamming down over the armrest, the buzz in his body so intense he shook. He unzipped his slacks, whipped out his throbbing dick, and sheathed it with the condom from his pocket.
“This will be fast and rough,” he groaned impatiently.
“Yes, Sir.”
All the tension left his muscles. She understood her place.
Aiming the crown at her opening, he rubbed it against her cleft. The slickness of her cunt caused a frustrated groan as he thrust forward. Her muscles clenched, and he clutched her hips until she yelped.
“Fuck,” he grunted.
It felt so good. So fucking good to touch someone.
The view was perfect as he moved. Her round ass cheeks created a peak to the valley of her crevice. Hourglass curves revived him as her hands held the cushions with her face pressed into them. Thank God. Shane was the only woman he met face to face in the throes of passion. And it would stay that way.
He nailed Miranda in haste, trying to drain any thoughts of Shane, even if for a short while. He closed his lids tightly. Focus, Andrews. Just finish… But the desired friction never came. Only numbness existed around his cock as he thrust into her channel. No electricity, no synergy like with Shane. A failed attempt at a quick fuck to reset him.
“Come on,” he bit out.
Her pussy tightened, grabbing his attention. “Yes, more.” He slapped her ass. A harder squeeze followed. Fuck, yeah!
She squealed like a porn star, cursing and yelling his name. Nerve endings were now in a frenzy, the pain in his mind released through each thrust.
“Move your foot to the armrest.”
She did. With one foot on the floor and the other raised, her legs split wider, allowing him a deeper thrust into her pussy. He wrapped one hand around the arm of the couch and the other pulled her hair for leverage. He pushed forward, and the couch screeched across the floor.
“Fuck…right there,” he grunted between breaths. Sweat dripped off his forehead and trickled down his spine. So fucking close. The sound of slapping skin filled the room. A high-pitched scream escaped her lips as her slick core contracted. She climaxed while he struggled to find his own. She did everything right, except she wasn’t Shane.
A fantasy popped in his head while he continued to pummel Miranda’s boneless body.
Shane is bare, sitting on his desk. Long legs spread wide. She waits for him with a wanton glare when he enters the room. She leans back. One hand grazes her glistening sex. Two fingers disappear into her pussy, and she removes them slowly. Gazing into his eyes, she licks her own juices from her fingers. “I’m ready, Jacob,” she purrs.
Shane’s voice echoed in his head as he thrust his hips forward. A shock of electricity climbed from the base of his balls to the top of his head. He collapsed over Miranda’s limp body. “Fuck…” He emptied into the condom, and his body shook as, finally, calm fell over him.
Once their breathing slowed, he pulled out and sat. Bone tired and burning eyes. Guilt bloomed in his chest. Miranda didn’t move, still splayed out over the armrest. This had to stop. It wasn’t fair to her. He grimaced and ran his fingers through her silky hair, moving it to the side.
“Thank you,” he murmured.
“Thank you, Sir.”
He removed the condom and tied the end. Tucking his flaccid penis into his pants, he rose from the couch. He tossed the prophylactic into the receptacle under his desk before collapsing into the office chair.
Still in her heels, Miranda sauntered over to the black puddle of cloth on the floor. Her hips rolled with every step as the dim light from the office accentuated her curves. It was a shame he didn’t see her as more than a friend. She had a way about her. She wrapped herself in her coat and smiled sweetly.
“Come here.” He patted his lap. Kicking off her shoes, she curled into his lap and swung her bare feet over the armrest.
He held her. This was nice. Holding someone. She cooed as she nuzzled under his chin. He exhaled, letting it all go.
They sat in silence for a long while until her chin flicked toward the computer screen, which still displayed the picture of Shane.
“Is that her?”
“Uh-huh.”
“She’s beautiful.” Her genuine compliment showed no animosity for Shane.
He hugged her closer, resting his cheek on the crown of her head. “Yes, she is.”
Miranda straightened. Brown eyes filled with compassion. “If you still love her, you need to tell her.”
His chest contracted, ready to smash his heart in two. He tucked her hair behind her ear. “It’s not that easy, darling.”
“Sure, it is.” She played with the button on his shirt. “If the love of my life fought to have me back, I’d jump at giving him a second chance. Forgiveness is a gift I’m holding for him. He could have it, if he’d ask.”
No amount of forgiveness would ever surmount the deceit he’d perpetuated. He’d made sure of it. And now the regret was eating him alive.
He wrapped her into his embrace and petted her hair.
“She may not feel the same.”
Shane pushed through the doors of the restaurant. Chatter flooded the room as the aroma of Spanish cuisine infused the air.
She planted her feet behind a glass and wooden partition, her eyes flickering through the crowds of diners in hopes Gavin would be finishing his meeting. Mahogany booths lined the narrow space, and the checkered floor made the area homey and comfortable. Yet it clashed with the black tied waiters buzzing by the tables covered in white linen.
Gavin’s hard-to-miss large frame dwarfed a small ladder-back wooden chair. He wasn’t alone. Cowering behind the partition, she stared. He leaned forward, obvi
ously gritting his jaw in what resembled an attempt to keep from shouting at the brunette with shoulder-length hair seated across from him. An intense energy surrounded them in the midst of the bustle of the restaurant. Did he have a good relationship with any female? She doubted it based on the flexing of his fists on the table.
The brunette stood, snatched her purse, and pointed in his direction. Shane couldn’t see the woman’s face, but her body language told her he was getting an earful. He sat back, opening his mouth and closing it, taking whatever she laid into him. Why were they arguing, and who was she to him?
The woman pivoted toward the exit, tears streaming down her face. Shane’s heart sank to her heels when she passed by. Natural curiosity had Shane wanting to go after her. The fleeting moment passed all too swiftly when the hairs on her nape prickled. An angry current had moved steadily across the space as the woman left. Now the ire was directed at her.
She swallowed, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. Strengthening her resolve to continue as planned, she spun toward the table only to meet the harsh gaze of Gavin’s cold blue eyes.
She offered an awkward smile and a wave. He, of course, did not return the gesture. Eyes remained dark. Angular jaw tight, while he gripped the armrests. All used to conceal whatever emotions might have lain beneath the surface.
She squared her shoulders. “Hi there.”
“Shane.” He raised his glass and drank, turning his head away.
“Are you okay?”
“Why are you here?” he snapped.
“I was in the neighborhood and decided to stop for something to eat,” she lied. “Mind if I join you?”
The chair thudded as he kicked it out from under the table. She supposed it was his way of inviting her to sit.
“Thanks.” She set her coat and purse on the adjacent chair and smoothed her clammy palms along her gray sheath dress as she sat. “May I have a menu and a martini please?” she asked the waiter as he walked by. “How was your day, Gavin?” A little light conversation might steer her from addressing the elephant in the room.
“You must know. Tasha told me you asked for my calendar.” The excessive rubbing of his thumb up and down the inside of his fingers ratcheted her insides. The fierce stare in his eyes shot warmth over her skin.
“I figured Tasha would have told you.”
“Why are you here? This is outside of a work meeting.” The bite in his tone expressed his dominant side. It tied her in knots. Denying him the truth wouldn’t be wise.
The waiter set down a menu and her martini. The vodka did nothing to calm the rising heat in her veins. “I came to see you. Sorry if I caught you in the middle of something.”
“Nothing I can’t handle.” He browsed the menu, waving a hand in the air to dismiss the teary-eyed brunette as if he’d finished up an ordinary business affair.
“Who was she?”
“No one important. Why did you ask for my calendar?” He peered over the edge of the leather bound bill of fare. A mask slid over his face, never letting his vulnerability be exposed to anyone. For her to learn anything of worth in order to keep him close, honesty was in order. And if she were honest, the game had ended a long time ago. She wanted acceptance. His trust.
“I want to know more about you.” She averted her eyes, unable to handle his glare. She liked it. Too much.
“I see.” He paused, making the air crackle around them. “You could have asked.”
Her eyes widened. Was he toying with her? “I’ve tried, but you keep shutting me down.”
“Because you keep asking me about my family. I was pretty clear that conversation was off limits. If you wanted to know about anything else, I would have told you.”
She held the glass at the base, overlapping her fingertips. “Okay, then. What does Gavin do for fun?”
“Fun? There isn’t time for fun.”
“There has to be something you do to unwind, relieve stress, or something you look forward to.”
A gleam twinkled in his eye followed by a gravelly hum. She squeezed her thighs, triggering something dark. “Yes, there are things, but…”
“But not up for discussion. Fine, why did you get into the music business? That query should be general enough for you.” She glared at him from over the rim of the glass.
“David Grohl.” He tossed back his drink and signaled to the waiter to bring another.
“David Grohl was the reason you pursued this industry?”
“Yes, but I didn’t think I would become a talent director. I dreamt of being a rock star.”
She laughed, imagining Gavin, all brooding male and cold to conversation, as an actual rock star.
“You find that funny, do you?” He smiled, showing his white teeth. It was brilliant. Joyful even.
“A little.” She shrugged. “Why him?”
“He got a second chance. In many ways, I can relate.” The waiter set down a fresh bourbon, and he nearly finished it in one swallow. How many had he consumed?
“In what way?”
“You pretty much know by my background check.”
“Explain it to me.”
His chest expanded and fell, eyes slightly glazed. The remaining liquid swirled in the tumbler as he spun the glass. “My life. A singular path toward destruction led me to one moment. I thought my life was over.”
“From what?”
“I spent a lot of time alone as a child. Especially after my mother turned on me.” The words were spat like venom as his lip curled. “She and I were close, and when she refused to leave my father, we stopped speaking.”
“And your dad?”
His eyes darted to hers. “A gallivanting cheater who hardly came around. But when he did, I’d run to him like a goddamned puppy begging for scraps.” He faded out as he swayed slightly and laughed. “They must have been meatier than he thought, because here I am.” He raised his glass to celebrate a personal victory for surviving.
The bitterness in his voice punctured her chest. He leaned forward on the table, head bowed near his glass like it held his vacant life.
She moved a hand over his. “Are you happy, Gavin?”
He stroked his thumb over hers. The tender yet solemn touch provided an acceptance in itself.
“What’s happiness? I have a scheduled life, money, and a job. That’s all I need to survive.”
“Don’t talk like that. If something’s missing, you can find it.” Her heart fell deeper, hoping her words could help.
He retreated into his chair, and the gateway to his dark secrets slammed shut like an iron door. “You can’t fix me, Shane,” he bit out, finishing his drink. “What about you, Ms. Vaughn? What got you into the business?”
She grimaced. The real Gavin disappeared into the background.
“Britney.”
“Britney Spears?” A husky laugh sent chills through her. “Really?”
She cleared her throat, holding a smile. “Not all of us have a story to back up our musical journey.”
“But how?”
“When ‘Hit Me Baby One More Time’ came out, it looked…fun.”
“And did the pop product make you want to become a CEO?”
“No. I ventured into the performer side a bit.” She went for her martini.
“You? A performer?”
“Don’t look so surprised. Ever heard of the small girl group, Club Divas?”
“Nope.”
“Exactly. We had a small hit, and during tour rehearsals, we found out how much we disagreed on things.” She smiled as the memories flooded her head. Although short-lived, she’d enjoyed the brief stint where she had made a record and prepared for a tour.
“I would have never thought…” The remark was lucid and alarming at the same time.
“What exactly did you think?” She leaned closer to him.
“I assumed you were always on the business side. It makes sense though, how you choose to run the business, I mean.”
“In what way?”
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“You take the time to groom Omega’s artists and not make them a by-product of the industry. They’re all”—he swayed and swallowed, his eyes hazy—“singer/songwriters. Sumptin’ I can ’spect,” His words slurred as he slumped in his chair. The bourbon had apparently achieved the desired effect.
“I think you should slow down. Have you eaten?”
He tried to straighten, and his eyes were glassed over like he was seeing two of her. “No, Shane, I haf’n eaten. I’m fine.” His mood swung from relaxed to defensive.
“I think we should go.”
“We? An’ where would we’s be goin’?”
“I’ll get you home.” She signaled to the waiter for the check and paid.
She held out her hand, and he smacked it out of the way. “I c’n help myself.” He slipped, flopping back into the creaking chair.
“Let me help you.”
“I don’t need yours or anyone’s help,” he argued as the alcohol stole him away from reality.
She whispered in his ear. “No one will know about this. Trust me.” She offered her hand again.
He paused, considering her statement. He put his hand in hers, and she hauled him to his unsteady feet. “Put your arm around me.” Trying to hold his massive body while balancing on heels was a terrific feat in itself.
She walked out the front door to the SUV waiting at the curb. “Ms. Vaughn?” Kelly asked.
“Help me get him into the car.” When Kelly anchored him from the other side, instant relief from his weight helped her regain strength.
“Come on, get in,” she coaxed. Partly coherent, he propped himself into the car.
Sliding in next to him, she shut the door.
“Gavin, are you okay?”
He raised his head from against the window. Sadness dulled his irises. The lack of focus in his gaze made it feel as though she was transparent, and he was staring at something behind her.
“Nicolette?”
11
Gavin’s body jackknifed off the bed, his heart trying to escape his chest as sweat dripped from his soaked hair. The nightmare was back. A speeding car. Pounding rain. And screams. The goddamned screams. He shuddered, rubbing his stinging eyes. He was unraveling. The visions only reared their ugly heads when things were off. When his schedule was off.
Beyond the Masks Page 11
