“Well, I’m glad you could bring yourself to eat it tonight. I’m not sure what I would have done if you’d started crying in the restaurant.” He laughed.
“Oh, me too.” She laughed. “I told my parents someday I would go to Japan and learn how to cook just like the professionals; someday I was going to be a famous Japanese chef. My parents of course said what all parents say, ‘You can be anything you want to be, but you have to be willing to work hard to get it.’ For the next month, I went to the library every night and borrowed books on Japanese cooking. There was just one problem. At that age, although I could read most of the words, I had no idea what they meant. After a while, I guess I figured my dream wasn’t realistic, and I decided I would learn how to cook Japanese food for my own enjoyment.” A slight sigh of the disappointment still lingering within her escaped before she continued, “Did you know that you can actually take personal cooking lessons in Tokyo? They have seven-day crash courses in authentic Japanese cooking and sushi making.”
“So you’re going to travel to the other side of the world just to learn to make sushi? Look who has a hidden adventurous side.”
“Maybe I do.” Changing the topic, she said, “Jon, tonight was . . . well, it was absolutely amazing. I hate for it to end.”
“It doesn’t have to end. Spend the night.”
She looked as if she was about to decline his offer, yet she said nothing. How could she concentrate when his fingers were leaving her hand and making their way up her arm and bare shoulder, sending chills through her as he touched her neck and chin and traced her lips? He was such a strong, powerful man, but he could make her melt with a feather-soft touch.
Her mouth opened to speak, but instead she slowly licked her lips, and her eyes closed as she arched toward him, wanting him to replace his fingers with his lips.
Lizette heard the limo’s privacy window close. Jon cupped her face with his hands and kissed her lightly, slowly, tenderly. His tongue traced her lips, asking her to open to him, which she did.
His kisses became deep and exploring, filled with promise, and his hands began to stroke her breasts. Between kisses, he whispered, “Stay with me tonight.”
Her response was to pull him closer.
The limo came to a stop. Jon’s kisses slowed once again as he struggled to gain self-control, but every muscle in his body was still tense against hers. She knew her own body was on fire, her breasts aching for him to release them from the confines of her lace bra.
Once Jon had pulled away from her, she smoothed her hair back into place while he straightened his tie.
Jon opened the door and extended his hand to her. This was it. She had to decide now. Get out of the limo, follow her heart, and spend the night with him, or say no, ask him to take her back to Rhode Island, and spend the rest of her life wondering what if.
All it took was one look into his dark eyes, and she knew her answer. She wanted—no, needed—to explore these new feelings. Placing her hand in his, she stepped out of the limo.
They rode the elevator in silence, no need for words as the sexual tension between them grew so thick you could cut it with a knife. Jon opened the door to his penthouse. He wanted to rip off that sexy little black dress that only enhanced what had been taunting him all night. The throbbing between his legs ached for release, but he knew he needed to take things slowly. Nothing about tonight was meant to quickly satisfy the pent-up frustration within him. And pent-up they were. Several times throughout the last few days, all he’d been able to think about was exploring every inch of Lizette’s body until she could remember nothing but his name. There was time for that later. For now, he needed to slow down.
He led her to the living room. “Please make yourself comfortable. Can I get you something to drink? Maybe a glass of wine?”
“Yes, that would be nice, thank you,” she answered as she continued to stand.
He poured them each a glass of Napa Valley’s Screaming Eagle Cabernet Sauvignon. He was usually a beer drinker, but Ross had introduced him to this wine a few years back. He hoped she would enjoy it as well.
When he returned he found Lizette looking at pictures on the mantel.
“Is this your mom?”
“Yes,” he answered as he handed her the glass of wine.
“She’s beautiful.”
“Thank you.”
“And is this your brother?”
“No. That is Brad. He was a friend.”
“Was?”
“He died five years ago in a car accident.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. He was so young.”
Yes, too young, only twenty-eight, Jon thought, then placed the photo back on the mantel. It seemed like yesterday when the five of them were in college. Trent was always talking about becoming a corporate tycoon, a goal he succeeded in achieving. Ross talked about leaving his family’s legendary wine business and making a name for himself, which had proved easier said than done. Drew was out to show he was more than the son of a lottery winner and could make it on his own. But Brad was different from them all. His favorite saying was engraved on his tombstone: it only takes one. He was forever the optimist. He never talked about what he wanted to do after college. They only found out at his funeral what he had gone on to do. Funny, they all had had such great ambitions of fame and fortune, except for Brad. He had money, but you never would have known it. He lived a low-key, modest life. He would show up for events he was invited to, but the rest of the time you never knew where he was or what he was doing. Only after speaking to the people who attended his funeral did they find out what an extraordinary man Brad had become. That day not only changed Jon’s life, but the lives of Ross, Trent, and Drew as well. They all continued to grow their businesses, but they took a piece of Brad with them as they tried to carry on in his memory.
“Jon, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to bring back painful memories.”
As he turned to her he could see concern and compassion in her eyes. “It’s okay, it was a long time ago.”
The ringing of Jon’s cell phone broke the tension and pulled him back to the present. Looking at the caller ID, he said, “I’m sorry, I have to take this.”
After a quick nod from Lizette, Jon left the room. Lizette went and sat on the couch, taking in the warmth of the fire, closing her eyes as she thought back to their drive there.
The call was taking longer than she had expected, so she picked up the remote from the end table and directed it toward the TV, but nothing happened. She tried again and this time music began to play. Soft, romantic, classical music. Jon was full of surprises. She leaned back on the couch and finished her wine. It couldn’t hurt to kick off her shoes and curl up on the couch while she waited. The music was so soothing, and it had been such a long, stressful weekend—her eyes closed, and she fell asleep.
***
Jon reentered the room to the sound of music. Where was Lizette? He approached the end table, intending to grab the remote and turn the music off, but he stopped abruptly when he saw Lizette sound asleep on his couch. He stood watching her for a moment, enjoying the sight. She was beautiful beyond compare—a natural beauty, as she only had a hint of makeup on. Even with her fiery personality, she had such delicate features: high cheekbones, tiny sweet ears, and lips that had driven him to lose control more than once. As she stirred in her sleep, a strand of her hair fell across her face. Jon bent down to brush it away. The slightest contact brought the need to touch and taste her back to him in full force. With his thumb, he gently traced her bottom lip. She stirred in her sleep but did not wake. Ever so lightly, he let his lips touch hers. A moan of his name escaped her lips, and she awoke and arched toward him. There was no holding back any longer. His kiss deepened, and he parted her lips with his tongue. She eagerly welcomed him. Lizette’s arms were now around his neck, pulling him closer, drawing him on top of her. He didn’t disappoint. He joined her on the couch and ran his hands up and down her body, finally finding his way under her dress to the a
pex between her thighs. She was so hot and wet for him. He stroked her clit with his thumb as his finger entered her. Her moans grew as he continued. She opened wider for him, and he added a second finger, now faster, harder. He watched her face as he drove her wild and her body began to shudder; he could feel her climax around his fingers.
Lizette had reached out to him. The hunger in her eyes only made him want her more. He leaned down to kiss her, but she stopped him. Then she slowly began to unbutton his shirt one button at a time. Jon could barely resist ripping his shirt off himself. Instead he knelt in front of her as she removed his shirt. She traced her fingers ever so gently over his bare chest and abdomen, lingering just above his belt. It was sweet torture watching her unhook and remove his belt. Then she undid the button to his pants, all while watching his reaction. She was driving him crazy and the need to take her was almost more than he could control. As if she read his thoughts, she brought his zipper down and slipped her hand inside his pants to release his throbbing cock. Lizette began to stroke him gently at first, and then she repositioned herself and her mouth began to follow her fingers. Jon could not contain the groan as she took him deep inside her mouth. He reached out and threaded his hands in her long dark hair as he watched her take all of him again and again, sucking, stroking him with her tongue. His eyes closed for a moment, then in one swift movement he pulled away from her, knowing another second of her mouth on him would leave him unable to hold back his release.
When she looked up at him he said, “I want to see you . . . all of you.” He watched Lizette get up off the couch, and he reached behind her for the zipper of her dress. Slowly she unzipped it, and the dress fell from her body to lie on the floor at her feet. As she stood in only her lace bra and panties, he told her again, “All of you.” Obeying his request, she unhooked her bra and let it slip to the floor. Then she slid her thumbs beneath both sides of her panties and ever so slowly drew them off her hips until they also lay on the floor.
“I have the same request—I want to see all of you, Jon.” Her voice trembled as she spoke.
He gladly stood in front of her and removed his shoes and socks and then, finally, his pants. He reached out for her as she stepped closer but out of his reach. She was beautiful to look at. He had never seen such a perfect woman before. There was no other way to describe her. His cock was fully erect and ached for her. Lizette then stepped closer and reached a hand out to rest on his chest. Jon wanted to lift her in his arm and plunge deep inside her, but as she leaned closer she whispered in his ear, “Sit back on the couch.” He did as she asked and watched her drop one knee onto the couch, then the other, so she straddled his throbbing cock between her thighs. He groaned in pleasure and arched his head back as he entered her for the first time. He gripped her buttocks firmly as her wet softness took all of him deep inside. First slowly, with precision. Then faster and deeper. She threw her head back, and he could feel her tighten around his shaft. He plunged even deeper as his release exploded within her.
With both their hearts still pounding, she collapsed into his waiting arms. He tenderly kissed her forehead and stroked her hair. They lay there quietly, just enjoying the lasting effects of their lovemaking, until Jon broke the silence.
“Lizette, you are a woman of many wonders. Each time I think I have you figured out, you surprise me again.”
“Is that a good or a bad thing?”
“Depends. I’m used to being able to read people easily. You, however, are not the open book you appear to be.”
Lizette blushed. “Some books you need to read from cover to cover, Jon, in order to learn the entire story.”
“Hmm, is that a challenge? Because I believe there are some pages I’m ready to explore now, if you’re up to it,” he said. “Care to join me in the bedroom?”
“I’m not sure my legs will carry me right now.”
“That is easily fixed,” he said as he stood with her legs still wrapped around him. He carried her to the bedroom, where he proceeded to make love to her again and again throughout the night, until neither of them had any strength left.
Chapter Eleven
She woke to find herself alone in bed. Jon had told her last night he needed to be in the lab very early, and she should make herself comfortable while he was gone. He even jotted down his personal cell phone number and told her to call when she was awake. She was not sure what time he actually left but the clock showed it was only 5:00 a.m. She had to be up early for work too, but this was too early, even for a morning person like her. Yawning, she pulled her arm out from under the softest sheet she had ever felt. The bed had cooled without the warmth of Jon’s naked body next to hers. Lizette wasn’t sure at what point she had lost her senses and decided to make love to a man she barely knew, but she couldn’t deny last night had been amazing, like nothing she had ever experienced before. For the first time in her life, she hadn’t held anything back. She wasn’t the shy wallflower everyone thought she was; instead, she’d taken control and, in doing so, found herself. She wasn’t sure what had changed in her, but something had. Being with Jon had given her confidence in herself—or maybe she’d always had it but had never been with the right person to feel comfortable expressing it. An insecure man might not have been able to allow her to control the pace, but Jon was never insecure.
The last several hours had felt like something she’d read about in a romance book, not something she ever thought she’d actually experience. In reality, all it had been was one wild night. Not something she had ever done before, and not something she planned on doing again. You can’t go back and undo what had been done. She wasn’t sure she would even if she could. She knew part of her would cherish what they’d shared last night for the rest of her life. Yes, she would have to describe it as a life-changing experience. But that was the problem, it had been life-changing for her. For him, it was probably an everyday occurrence, from the fancy restaurant to the night of passion.
The thought cut through her like a knife. She didn’t want to think of him with another woman, or that what they’d shared may not have been special to him. But the truth was, she didn’t know what the night had meant to him. She only knew, whether she wanted to admit it or not, she had feelings for him; otherwise, she never would have spent the night with him. That revelation hit her hard, and a tear rolled down her check. Yes, she cared, and she didn’t want to. She was glad Jon wasn’t there so she didn’t have to face him again.
She wasn’t sure what she was supposed to do on the morning after. This was a first for her. What she did know though—it was time to go home. If she stayed any longer, it would only get worse, harder for her. Men like him—rich, powerful men—didn’t date women like her. And if they did, they didn’t date them for long. Once the newness wore off, they moved on. The rich lived in a world where everything was disposable, even relationships. Lizette had learned that lesson firsthand, when she was in college. She had dated a fellow student who came from money. Oh, how she’d thought she was in love back then. School had always come easily to her, so getting a 4.0 hadn’t been a problem. But her ease with her studies meant she had more time on her hands than many of the other students. Enough time to travel home to see her parents, to check on the store. But no, she was too emotionally wrapped up in her first love. He’d had her believing this was her time to have fun and enjoy life; everything else would be there when she got back home. He had been wrong, so very wrong. When she finally did go home, her parents had signed the papers to sell the store. And why? Because she was too busy “enjoying life, having fun.” When she found out what happened, she immediately called her boyfriend to ask for help, to see if he knew anyone who could stop this, get it reversed, something, anything. Lizette would never forget his words, as they changed how she’d lived ever since. “If they weren’t wise enough to handle a business, then they shouldn’t have been in business. You don’t become a small fish in the big sea if you can’t handle being swallowed up. At the end of the day, it’s jus
t business.”
He didn’t care, and he never called her again. There was nothing she could do—the family business was no more. And it was her fault, because she’d been distracted from what was important, devoting her time to someone who knew he would never stay with her. She was just another casualty of the sea. She decided then she would never again be so irresponsible. Life was not a game. If you didn’t take it seriously, you could lose everything, and there would always be someone watching, waiting to take it from you.
Coming to New York, spending the night with Jon, was a prime example of her losing focus on what she was supposed to be doing—getting a sponsor for Another Chance—not enjoying a dinner that must have cost hundreds of dollars for her portion alone. Well, at least nobody knows I was here or what I did. I can go back home, no harm done this time.
It was still early enough to find her way downtown, catch an Amtrak train back to Rhode Island, and still get home to Chepachet before nightfall. From there she would update Ms. Manning that Jon—oh, she had to remember to call him Mr. Vinchi—would be researching the sponsorship and getting back to her directly by the end of the week. There was no need to get into the dirty details of how she ran away with him to New York and spent the night in his bed. Nope, no reason anyone ever had to know that.
Pulling the sheets off, she reluctantly left Jon’s king-sized bed and made her way to the master bathroom. Huge would not even begin to describe it. She thought she was lucky to have an original, old-fashioned claw-foot tub at home. It wasn’t ideal for showering, but it was amazing for taking bubble baths. Jon’s bathroom not only had a stone shower with multiple shower heads on one end of the room, he also had a whirlpool tub, which looked more like a Jacuzzi, on the other end, that was equally impressive. Though her body ached from their hours of lovemaking, and she longed to feel the powerful jets of water beating on her muscles, she opted for a quick shower. She couldn’t risk Jon returning from the lab before she left.
The Billionaire's Secret (Betting on You Series: Book One) Page 9
