by Dara Girard
“Go and put your arm around her. Ask her how she is.”
“Mom, I really don’t—”
“You’re going to lose her at this rate. I may not be around to see any grandkids but I would like to believe in the hope there’s a possibility.” She shoved him forward. “Go.”
James stumbled into the room and offered Ava a look of chagrin when she lifted her head in question. “Sorry about this,” he said in a low voice, taking a seat beside her. “Just pretend to be happy to see me, my mother is watching.”
Ava caught a glance of Flo before she disappeared behind the wall.
James stretched his arm behind her head. “Don’t stiffen like that I’m only doing this until she goes away.”
“I’m not stiff. What did Jackson say about me?”
James frowned down at the book in her hands. “What are you reading?” He leaned forward. “Is that—?”
She slapped him in the stomach with the back of her hand. “Shut up.”
He looked at the manga graphics. “The drawings are impressive.”
“I said shut up. I don’t want to hear your comments on my reading material.”
“There aren’t many words though.”
“Be quiet, James.”
He slid his arm to her shoulders and lowered his voice, “I either keep talking or I kiss you. Your choice.”
For a moment Ava didn’t move, not sure how to respond.
James pointed to one of the illustrations, the movement bringing her body closer to him. “I really like that one.”
Ava bit her lip, resisting the urge to lean in. He smelled good. But what had he and Jackson talked about? Why had Jackson brought up her past? Was James here because of his mother or for another reason?
She looked down at his free hand resting on his lap, swallowed and made a bold decision. She covered and held it.
This time James didn’t move, but his voice deepened. “You’re breaking the rules.”
“I know. What are you going to do?”
His mouth covered hers.
And she totally forgot about Jackson. Or breathing. His mouth left hers burning with fire. Then she felt his tongue, not sure if she’d made the initial invitation or not, but surrendering to its persuasion. Her hands reached for him.
“Hold on,” James said, waking her from her dream. She looked down and saw that she’d unbuttoned his shirt. “Your bedroom in two minutes.”
“Why not yours?”
He pressed a finger against her lips. “I’ll make it one. Are you scared?”
She searched his gaze, her heart racing, realizing what she faced. What she’d done. She should be horrified. She’d lost herself. Her dignity. Her inhibition.
She didn’t care.
She wanted him and he wanted her. She jumped to her feet and ran.
Once she reached her bedroom she quickly searched it to see if there was anything visible that would ruin the mood, but it looked fine. She didn’t know if she should strip down, let him undress her or do it herself.
She covered her face and made a sound of frustration. No, she couldn’t have these questions. She had to get back in control. If he knew how much he could dazzle her she would be at a disadvantage. This was just sex. Nothing more. She didn’t really like him, just wanted him. A lot. More than a lot if there was such a thing. She was a straight, healthy woman with a handsome man who wanted to sleep with her, she was not making a mistake.
It was just physical. It didn’t mean anything. So she was attracted to him, that didn’t mean it had to be anything serious. For weeks she’d been secretly lusting after him, and now she could finally get him out of her system.
Chapter 26
James didn’t know what to expect, but the sight of Ava in a pair of heels wearing only black lace panties and bra wasn’t it.
He wasn’t sure how to read her expression. She was up to something but he wasn’t sure what. He slowly closed the door behind him and removed his shirt. “You don’t waste any time,” he said, placing it over a chair.
“No.” She walked up to him and tugged on the waist of his trousers. “I like it quick, hard and a little rough. Think you can manage that?”
James smiled, finally understanding what she was up to. “Yes.” He removed his socks and shoes and placed them together near the chair.
She frowned. “What are you? A neat freak?”
“Is that a problem?”
“No.” She folded her arms. “So you know what to do.”
He nodded, removed his trousers and placed them over the chair as well.
“Good.”
“But I don’t take orders.”
She paused. “What?”
He cupped her chin in his hand, his eyes dark. “Somehow you’ve confused me with someone you pay for.”
She removed his hand. “Do you want to sleep with me or not?”
“I will sleep with you tonight,” he said, his voice holding a note of promise, “but on my terms not yours. Remember you broke the rules.”
“But you’re the one who’s scared,” she shot back, meeting his eyes. “Scared you can’t handle a simple request from a woman like me.”
He sniffed. “A woman like you?”
She nodded.
“What makes you so different?” he challenged, taking an aggressive step forward, inwardly pleased when she took a step back. “Do you think you’re my first? Do you think you’re somehow special?” He took another step forward; this time she held her ground, but not for long. “Is that what men have been telling you? Have they been telling you that you’re so strong and independent that you frighten them?” He held her gaze. “Do I look frightened?”
She turned away. “You can leave—”
“I can see through it all, Ava. I can feel how you respond to me. Is it fear or something else?”
Ava hugged herself, annoyed that he’d been able to intimidate her. She shouldn’t have backed away no matter how uncomfortable he made her. He was too close to the truth, but if she wanted to control him he couldn’t know that. She forced herself to look at him again. “It’s not fear. I just don’t—”
“Want to be alone with me too long?”
Yes. “I like my space.”
He swept her with a considering look, his gaze feeling like a heated caress over her body. “You want it quick, hard and rough?”
She nodded, not trusting herself to speak.
“You’re sure?”
“Yes.” She knew it was a challenge and didn’t expect him to do it right. Most men didn’t. If he did what she expected him to—try to prove himself, his manliness and power—he’d be another unmemorable bedfellow to ease some frustration. And she always liked a little pain with her pleasure; like salt and sugar on popcorn. She hoped to end up with some bruises, maybe a tiny scar. She wondered if he’d use his teeth, scrape her skin with his nails, grab her throat and squeeze.
But he tricked her, not in the way she expected. He was quick—having her naked and on the bed within seconds—and he was hard, big and solid as he entered her. He was also rough—she felt the raw passion of his entrance as she prepared herself to ride him into climax, but then he slowed the pace and kissed the curve of her neck.
“What are you doing?” she asked with a note of panic.
“A compromise,” James whispered, his breath hot against her skin.
“But I said I wanted it rough.”
His eyes captured hers. “I can be rough and smooth.”
And to her surprise he showed her how.
Making himself memorable in the most wonderful, exciting and frightening way. He wasn’t a quick lay she could forget, he made an imprint and she was helpless to stop him because as much as she wanted to pull away, she craved more. No man had ever taken so much time to explore her body, to find her pleasure points, to touch her so tenderly, but also with reckless abandon. She didn’t think he had it in him. She’d been wrong. She’d offered him a challenge and failed.
B
ut what a glorious defeat.
She knew once wouldn’t be enough, even when he stopped she craved more.
She’d never known the true pleasure of a man’s tongue before, the feel of it between her toes, against her navel, touching the tip of her center with wet, warm delight, leaving her languid with desire.
It wasn’t supposed to be like this.
She wanted it to always be like this. She enjoyed him with equal hunger, dragging her nails down his back, tightening around him, inviting him deeper inside her. She wanted to devour him, using her teeth against his chest, wondering if she could frighten him a little. It only seemed to excite him more and that thought—that she couldn’t scare him—thrilled her and she knew she was in danger of falling in love.
James lay on his side and looked down at her. “Well?”
Ava turned her head on the pillow and stared up at him. “Well what?”
“Did I succeed?”
She frowned. “You know you did, smug bastard.”
He smiled. “Just wanted to make sure.”
“Where did you learn to do that thing with your tongue?”
He bit his lip. “I probably shouldn’t tell you this.”
“Why not? Embarrassed?”
“A peach.”
She blinked. “What?”
“A peach. My brother and I used to practice on a peach. We’d cut it in half, remove the pit and do the rest. An older cousin of ours told us the sensation was kind of the same.” He winked. “Warm, sticky, sweet.”
“I don’t believe you.”
He shrugged. “It’s the truth. I haven’t had any complaints yet.”
“You must like peaches a lot.”
He only smiled.
“Clearly you’ve perfected your skill.”
“Glad you noticed. I would hope I would be better than I was at eleven.”
She sat up and stared at him shocked. “You were doing that to peaches at eleven years old?”
“Late bloomers I know.”
She pulled the bed sheets to her chest. “You’re making this up.”
He shook his head. “No, it’s the truth. I tried plums once, they were a disaster. And forget about the kumquat. I’d gotten too ambitious.”
“Horny little bastard.”
He grinned.
She rested her head on the pillow and pulled up the sheets. “I’m ready to go to sleep.”
“You’ll miss dinner.”
“That’s okay.”
She felt him reaching for something. “You’re right,” he said.
Ava turned to him when he didn’t leave. She saw him
reading one of the mangas she’d left beside the bed.
“I can see why Jackson likes it,” he said. “You could cosplay this any day.” He pointed to a sexy image of a warrior princess.
Ava smiled at the thought of him wanting her to dress up as one of the characters. “Be careful what you wish for.”
James squeezed his eyes shut and moved his lips without saying anything.
“What are you doing?”
He opened one eye. “Wishing very hard.”
She playfully slapped him. “I told you I’m ready to go to sleep.”
“Go ahead. I won’t bother you.”
She stared at him confused. “You can’t stay here.”
“Why not?”
She blinked, dumbfounded. “Because I don’t—”
“Relax, I just want to look at a couple more pages.”
“You can take the book with you.”
“I know. I don’t want to. I’m comfortable where I am.”
Ava hesitated. He couldn’t stay. She’d never spent the night with a man. She hadn’t had many relationships, but when she did the guy was usually gone the moment they finished, having James linger felt strange, even more intimate than what they’d just done. His room was only down the hall; he had no reason to stay. Why was he still there? The manga was interesting, but not enough. It didn’t make sense to her.
He set the book aside. “I thought you said you wanted to sleep.”
“You’re leaving now?”
He lay down beside her and drew her close, holding her snuggly. “Let’s try this for a minute, if you don’t fall asleep in five minutes I’ll leave.”
That sounded reasonable. She wouldn’t sleep. She’d count every second. She didn’t cuddle. It was unnecessary. She licked her lip. She wished her heart didn’t feel as if it were going a hundred kilometers an hour, but once he was gone it would return back to normal.
Normal. Why did his arms around her feel so normal, ordinary, and right? She felt as if she was right where she belonged. But that was wrong. He was one of them. The dreaded Fortunes. She wouldn’t close her eyes, she wouldn’t lean back against him, she wouldn’t fall asleep…
Chapter 27
“James and Ava are late,” Edgar said with irritation as he, Rudy and Flo sat at the dinner table. Jackson had gone home.
“We can start dinner without them,” Flo said, a private smile touching her lips as she filled her plate.
Edgar looked at her wondering what her secret expression meant. Her smile was always a mystery to him. It was one of the first things that had intrigued him even though he’d sought her out for very different reasons.
“I could help you win more favors and funds if you changed your image,” his business mentor had told him as they stood together in the formal living room of a mutual friend. The cocktail party was lively and filled with influential people, but Edgar wished he were elsewhere.
“What do you have in mind?” he’d asked, feigning interest.
“Not what, but who.”
The ‘who’ had captured his interest and moments later he was introduced to Flo who smiled prettily at him with that same secretive smile. He still wondered what she’d thought of him that first meeting. He knew he’d been less than gracious, giving her little opportunity to reject his advances, confident in his ability to impress her.
His friend had been right. Flo and her three boys had given his image the boost he needed, especially Rudy. That had garnered him extra bonus points. Rudy was the only one of his stepsons who called him Dad, but it was expected since Edgar was the only father he’d ever known. He made sure that their biological father didn’t reappear, now that his sons were provided for(persuading him with a handsome financial incentive and soft threats). It had taken three months to convince Flo to marry him. He’d anticipated token resistance, he knew women liked not to appear overeager, but she’d made a surprisingly easy, conquest agreeing the moment he’d shown her the ring.
And now she was dying.
Fortunately, the boys were grown. It would have been more of a hassle if they’d been younger. He’d adopted them after all and they would have been his responsibility, but a good boarding school would have taken care of that problem.
He told himself that at least they’d had good years together, he’d given her a good life. But the guilt still remained.
He needed a cigar.
After dinner he went to the back patio, grabbing his coat from the closet. Although the sun still lingered in the sky the evening was cool. He no longer smoked inside the house because of Flo’s illness. He stepped outside and put on the coat a faint scent drafting around him. The smell of Lynn’s perfume. He wished she wouldn’t wear such a strong scent, he’d warn her next time. He lit his cigar and took a puff.
He didn’t want anyone getting suspicious. Now wasn’t the time for anyone to know what he was up to. It would ruin his image, one he’d taken years to build. He couldn’t let a woman destroy it. He couldn’t let his true weakness be discovered.
Chapter 28
Ava woke up with a start. She opened her eyes and saw the room cloaked in darkness. She’d fallen asleep. She sighed and squeezed her pillow then paused when she realized the warm, solid form wasn’t her pillow at all. She had her head on James’s chest, her arm draped across him. She quickly sat up.
�
�What is it?” he mumbled.
Her face burned. She’d never done something like this before. To have him stay was one thing (Why was he still here?), to even let her hold him was another (How could she have let herself fall asleep in his arms?), but for her to cling to him? That was completely foreign. For a moment she didn’t know herself. What if he’d wanted to leave and she’d forced him to stay because he hadn’t wanted to wake her? She turned on the side light. “You should have pushed me away.”
James squinted against the glare and stretched his arms above his head. “Why would I want to do that?” A slow smile spread on his face. “I know you like me.” He pointed at her with mock severity. “Don’t try to deny it.”
She grabbed his finger. “I liked what we did. It’s nothing personal. Don’t get confused.”
He pulled her down and locked her in his arms. “It’s personal all right.” His voice deepened into huskiness. “Very personal.”
Ava didn’t move. There was no point in lying. Would he taunt her? Tell her that he’d warned her not to fall for him?
“How would you like to get away for the weekend?”
“Alone? With me?”
“Of course with you,” he said with a laugh. “Who else?”
She bit her lip. “What are we doing James?” she asked, knowing their relationship had changed.
“If you say ‘yes’ I’ll show you.”
She never imagined that saying “yes” would lead her to the Caribbean.
James flew her to Grenada, a small island that lulled Ava into a tropical embrace where for three days she thought she’d touched paradise. They spent every night in each other’s arms. During the day, they snorkeled in the clear blue waters and sailed against a cloudless sky, took a tour along one of the waterfalls, inhaling the fragrant scent of nutmeg trees.
Ava indulged in the rainfall shower and luxurious soaker tub of their cottage, and lounged on the private patio where they had every meal delivered—Breakfast (fried bake and saltfish), lunch (callaloo soup), afternoon tea and dinner (chicken stew and pumpkin mash). They wandered in the market where farmers sold fresh fruit and spices and walked hand-in-hand along the boutique lined roads of the French-colonial capital of St. George’s where James bought her a multicolored, spaghetti strap dress, wedges and an off-the-shoulders floral blouse to wear over jeans.
