Gingerly, he slid it up and down my channel, teasing us both but never giving in.
I pushed forward a little bit, trying to get him to enter me. Catching on, Angelo froze and shot me a reprimanding look. I stilled.
Instead of sliding up against me again, he flicked my clit. I cried out, riding a wave of pleasure that took me nearly halfway to a release. Before it ended Angelo pushed into me, burying his full length.
I braced myself for pummeling, but he set an easy rhythm, gently pushing into me. Taking one of my knees, he arched my leg back and hit me at a gentler angle.
His soft groans filled the room, their sound just as exciting as the sight of his naked body.
Pleasure bundled and then spread through me, making me struggle for breath. Angelo moved even more slowly, reaching up to rest his hand against the base of my neck.
Sweat dripped down the center of his abs and fell onto my stomach. Leaning forward, he closed the space between us and rested his chest against mine.
One hand wrapped around the back of my neck. My face turned to his and my lips parted, allowing his tongue to slip between my teeth. His motions sped up a bit and my pleasure ratcheted again. I cried out against Angelo’s face and wrapped my legs around him as the orgasm shook me.
Grasping the back of my neck a bit tighter, his nails digging into my skin, he shuddered with release, taking some time to descend from his orgasm.
Angelo’s tongue ran across mine, the kiss so deep and intense my jaw could come unhinged.
For a long, long time we lay there kissing. Heat filled the room and pressed in around us. The sweat on our skin chilled and cooled us down.
My arms ached from staying in one position so long, but I didn’t try to move them.
Angelo’s hand ran down my side and nudged its way between us. It pressed against my sore clit and I squirmed.
“No,” I huffed.
He didn’t listen, instead just teased and rubbed. The discomfort of the touch subsided and good feelings filled me again. I arched my back and cried out into Angelo’s neck.
Spent from the second orgasm, my head dropped back against the pillows. Angelo nipped at the spot under my ear. My eyelids grew heavy.
“Can’t… move,” I muttered, half asleep.
He rubbed his nose against my jaw. “That’s great.”
I scoffed. “Are you planning to untie me?”
“Who says I’m done with you?”
“Angelo!” I cried, my eyes snapping back open. “I can’t stay here all day.”
He chuckled and reached up for the rope around my wrists. “Relax. I’m done with you… for now, anyway.”
His promise of more made my skin itch. Turns out I hadn’t been satiated at all.
I turned my face to look him straight in the eyes. “What’s next?”
He grinned wickedly. “You’ll have to stick around to see.”
Paige
I burrowed my face deeper into the pillow, letting its softness carry me away. The house sat quiet, not so much as a creak anywhere.
I slowly opened my eyes and lifted my face. Next to me, Angelo lay on his back, one tightly muscled arm thrown across his face. His chest rose and fell slowly, the man lost somewhere deep in slumber. A thin ray of light crept through the space in the curtains, hitting the sheets across his legs.
We’d slept together.
In the same bed.
I hadn’t thought about it, but it seemed strange considering he was so eager to escape my apartment the other morning.
Maybe it was only due to convenience. Or him not wanting to seem like a jerk and ask me to move to another room.
But I couldn’t stop the small amount of pleasure a night together brought me.
A smile stretched my face. After some more time watching Angelo, I gingerly rolled out of bed. My limbs ached in protest. An afternoon spent indulging in pleasures of the flesh with Angelo was akin to running a marathon. I would need my own sports masseuse if I hoped to get through the day.
After the play in his bedroom, we’d rested by taking a slow and quiet walk on the beach. After eating the Chinese food, we ordered in for dinner, we went right back at it. The intensity of our bodies connecting, along with my way too long of a dry spell, had me spent by eight o’clock.
Not wanting to spend the day naked, I looked around for my duffle bag first. After pulling on a tank top and the soft pink pants I often slept in I padded carefully from the room, pulling the door closed to just a crack. The floorboards in the hallway creaked under my feet and I walked even slower, studying the vaulted ceilings and long walls covered with art and photographs.
We had eaten dinner in the kitchen, but I hadn’t gotten to see most of the house yet. I tiptoed down the hallway, pushing each door open just enough to see through. Each section had a different feel to it. Some areas were light and airy, with lots of windows and brightly painted walls. Other parts of the house were darker, and more masculine, with paneled wood and leather furnishings. I noticed several bedrooms, an office, and finally, a room with a pool table and fully stocked bar.
The main hallway wound its way around the house’s perimeter, taking me down an area that doubled as a sun room. Tall windows let in the morning light, and double doors led out to a large porch. Beyond them the beach was visible, its water sparkling and dancing. I thought about going down and looking for seashells the tide washed up during the night, but decided against it. I didn’t want Angelo to wake up and worry once he found me gone.
Once in the kitchen I moved about freely, confident I was far enough from Angelo to not wake him up. The clock above the stove made me double take. Eleven hours. That’s how long I’d slept.
I took a casual look through the cupboards to find the cooking utensils. After I found what I needed, I went to the fridge to see what ingredients I had to work with.
Since I decided against going down to the beach, breakfast in bed seemed like the next obvious thing to do. I would surprise Angelo with a tray laden with anything and everything I could cook up. Too bad it was spring and I couldn’t go out and borrow flowers from a neighbor’s garden. Whenever you saw someone serving breakfast in bed in the movies they always had a perfect bouquet of flowers sitting in a little vase as part of the spread.
After breakfast, maybe we could have another romp in the sheets. Perhaps another walk on the beach or a trip into town. But then what? Would Angelo take me back home and in three weeks I would meet my future husband?
My hands began to shake. I quickly set the carton of eggs I just pulled out of the fridge down onto the counter. A tired sigh left my lungs, one so heavy my chest hurt.
No. I couldn’t do it.
I was not agreeing to an arranged marriage. I didn’t even want to know the details. It didn’t matter how important this ‘deal’ was to whoever had made it. I was a free woman living in twenty-first century America. We didn’t do arranged marriages here. It was also the worst time in my life to even think about being with a man other than the one in front of me.
I had originally assumed Angelo and I were just a one-time thing, but the unfolding day proved otherwise. On top of our wildly irresistible physical attraction, I was sure we had something more.
I didn’t believe I was imagining it.
Lifting my shoulders, I went about making breakfast. Though the fridge wasn’t close to half stocked, there were enough breakfast ingredients to make a decent omelet. I diced peppers and onions while the skillet heated up.
With no bread to be found, I dug deeper into the pantry and found a box of pancake mix. The syrup in the fridge sat open, but hadn’t reached its expiration date yet. All in all, the breakfast came together pretty well.
Even though there were no flowers.
Lucky for me, an in-depth search through the endless drawers ended with the discovery of a serving tray. Loading the platter up with breakfast and two sets of silverware, I hefted it up and made my way back to the bedroom.
Instead of going
back the way I came, I kept the circular journey going and traveled clockwise around the house. The foyer I saw when we came in the day before.
Well, somewhat. I’d been a little too preoccupied to notice much about the house, what with Angelo’s hands and mouth all over me.
The sitting room off to the right I’d also caught a glimpse of. The giant living room on the left I hadn’t.
It looked like something out of a big hunting lodge. Several couches spanned the length of the room and large oil paintings covered the walls, but the massive fireplace commanded most of the attention.
Noticing the number of framed photos on the mantel, I shuffled forward. Some of them were of children. I set the breakfast tray on a nearby coffee table and inched forward some more.
Which one was Angelo, I wondered. After a quick perusal, I spotted him. All of the boys had dark hair, but only Angelo’s was wild and thick. Plus, there was that devilish smile, something he could have even at eight years old.
The picture frames crowded together, taking up every inch of space on the mantel. A third were of the kids, taken at the house I was at or in other, various locations.
The rest, presumably, were extended family.
Near the other end of the fireplace one of the photos made me do a double take.
Holding my breath, I squinted my eyes.
No. It couldn’t be.
And yet it was.
My mother and father, standing in the middle of a photo taken at the beach. On either side of them stood two couples about their own age, and at the very end a young man.
My eyes raked over the photos background, looking for clues. Where was the group? Could it be right in front of the very house I stood in? Did that mean my parents had been to Angelo’s family home?
Other than some tufts of grass where the sand dunes stood up in one corner of the frame, there was nothing betraying the picture’s location.
My minute inspection of the beach finished, I stared at each of the strangers faces in turn. The two couples were familiar, though I couldn’t say exactly how I knew them.
Relatives of Angelo’s? Sophia claimed we knew the family from our teenage years, though I couldn’t remember so much as a detail about them.
My mother smiled brightly at the camera, my father’s arm looped around her waist. Everyone was dressed casually, and she was no exception in her jeans and t-shirt.
My breath caught in my throat.
That shirt.
It was one of her favorites. I’d been with her when she snagged it at the vintage store on forty-ninth street. It was white, with hand stitched red trim and short, puffed sleeves.
She wore it all the time.
Including the last time…
I saw her then, but not in the photo. I saw my mother in a memory so full and real it was like she stood right in front of me.
My breath came faster. In and out, rushing like it was eager to escape my body. Eager to get away from me, from this moment and what was happening in it.
My vision blurred. I reached out to grab the fireplace’s mantel. My fingers brushed against a couple of the frames, knocking them over. I didn’t pay attention. I needed my inhaler.
My inhaler. When was the last time I used it?
Not since leaving the city. I remembered holding it in my hand while confronting Sophia and Angelo at the apartment. And then what?
I packed it, right?
Yes. I had to of. It was in my duffel bag in Angelo’s bedroom. Just right down the hall.
I stumbled away from the fireplace, leaving the photographs behind. My mother followed me, her joyful smile and that shirt hovering in front of my eyes.
No. I couldn’t think about that. Not now.
I needed my inhaler. Needed to breathe.
But with each labored breath came another memory. Her eyes. Her hands. The sound of her voice. They were all around me, making it harder and harder to go on.
Each step seemed more difficult, each foot gained more uncertain.
Angelo’s bedroom doorway appeared, a bright beacon at the end of the tunnel.
So close. I was so close.
I gasped for breath, but realized I’d long ago stopped taking any in. My chest was tight, my throat just as constricted.
I pressed my hand against the wall, trying to keep myself upright. Just three more steps.
Now two…
Darkness bubbled up around the sides of my vision, then covered me completely and took me under.
Angelo
A nearby thump finished waking me up. I’d already been halfway to consciousness, but the sudden noise sent me bolting up to sitting.
I looked around the room in confusion. “Paige?”
No answer.
Stretching my arms above my head, I languidly stood up. Just enough sun entered through the thick curtains for me to easily make out the room. Just how long had I been sleeping for? And where had Paige gotten off to?
I turned out of the doorway and froze, momentarily taken aback by the strange, crumpled mass in front of me.
Had I left something out here the night before?
But no. It was no bunched-up rug or pile of clothes on the floor.
It was Paige.
“Paige!” I shouted, dropping to my knees and taking her head in my hands. Her face was pale, her eyes closed.
“Paige!” I tried again.
Had she just randomly fainted? From what?
An asthma attack! That could do it, right?
No. That couldn’t be it. She’d been telling me just the day before about her asthma, about how it could unexpectedly flare up and that’s why she always carried her inhaler with her.
But there was no other answer. There was nothing in the hall she could have hit her head on.
Asthma had to be it.
I thought fast, my mind working at warp speed. Where had she put her purse?
The bedroom.
Putting her head back down, I flew into the bedroom. Her purse sat on the floor, just underneath the footstool holding her duffel bag.
Something in the unzipped bag caught my eye.
Her inhaler. Thank God.
Snatching it up, I leaped back into the hallway.
I’d never had to administer a dose of whatever was in these inhalers before today, but it seemed pretty easy. Craning her head back a little bit, I put the mouthpiece between her lips and pumped the device.
“Come on,” I muttered, my heart beating so loudly I could hardly hear my voice. “Come on, Paige.”
The relief over finding the inhaler quickly disappeared. It wasn’t working.
What next? CPR?
What if that did no good either?
I needed to call for an ambulance.
Nearly tripping over my feet, I ran into the room and grabbed my cell phone. Each second without a medic there was precious time. I didn’t know how long it had been since Paige became unconscious, but even minutes could be long enough, without the right medical care.
I stammered my address and an explanation of the emergency into the phone line. The operator instructed me to administer CPR until the medics arrived.
Relieved to have an answer as to what to do, I hurried back to Paige. It had been years since I took that CPR course in high school, but it all came back to me as I worked frantically to save her.
Chest compressions. Two quick breaths.
The pulse in her neck told me she still hung on.
I checked for breathing. Nothing.
Come on, Paige. Not now. Not when I’ve just found you.
She couldn’t be dying. It just wasn’t fair.
Adrenaline pulsed in me. I wasn’t going to lose her. Hell no.
More chest compressions. Another head tilt and a deep breath. And then I felt it. Her exhale on my lips.
“Paige?”
Her eyelashes fluttered.
At the same time sirens filled the air.
I hopped up and ran as fast as I could to the front
door. Two paramedics rushed up the drive.
“This way,” I told them, directing them down the hallway to where Paige lay.
I let them go first and then rushed after them. Paige lay where I had left her, but her head moved slightly to the side. Was she waking up?
“What’s her name?” the female paramedic asked.
“Paige,” I thickly replied. “That’s her inhaler next to her.”
“Paige? Can you hear me?”
Her eyes still closed, Paige garbled something unintelligible in response. I sighed in relief. At least she was conscious now.
The paramedics helped her sit up while I hung back. She put her palm to her face like she had a headache.
While the female paramedic checked Paige out and helped her get a hit from the inhaler her male counterpart questioned me on what had happened. I gave him the story from beginning to end. Everything I could remember, I shared.
“It looks like you saved her,” he replied. “We’ll get her to the emergency room. She needs to be checked out.”
“All right,” I nodded. “I’ll follow you there.”
I smiled at Paige encouragingly, but she looked so out of it, it seemed she didn’t even notice me there.
One of the paramedics retrieved a stretcher and they took her away, talking to her and crowding my view.
Eager to get to the hospital, I went back into my room to dress. Throughout the chaos, I’d been wearing a pair of striped boxers. Hopefully the paramedics had seen people in less.
On the drive to the hospital I called my brother.
“Dominic,” I started, the second he answered.
A moment passed. Dominic wasn’t an early riser. Then, “Yes?”
“I need to talk to you about Sophia.”
Another moment, this one longer, passed.
Getting so close to losing Paige made me realize I couldn’t be complacent. Not only could I not let her slip away, I couldn’t just rest idle, sitting on my hands, while a mysterious swirl of activity surrounded me. I needed to know what we were in for, needed to know what came next.
If experience taught me anything it was that when things happen all at once they’re usually connected.
The Billionaire and The Virgin Page 15
