by V. K. Sykes
“That’s where we’ll be sleeping?” Torrey asked as he set her bag on a claw-footed armchair covered in ivory fabric.
“That’s what I had in mind, yes.” He smiled. “Though falling asleep in front of the big fireplace in the living room might work too.”
“Not that we’ll do all that much sleeping,” she said, coming up from behind to circle her arms around his waist. She pressed her palms against the hardness of his chest muscles, feeling his nipples harden as she molded her body into his back.
“I should be getting dinner started soon,” he protested, a little laugh making it clear he didn’t give a damn about dinner.
She glided her fingers down his hard abs. “I can wait for dinner. I can’t wait any longer for this.” She slipped her hand under the waistband of his jeans and found him already semi-erect. The deep, low sound from his throat told her he could wait for dinner too.
Chapter 14
Torrey followed her nose, stifling a yawn as she wandered into the kitchen. Positioned at the big, commercial-sized stove, Julian stirred a medley of vegetables.
“I can’t tell you how wonderful that smells,” she said.
He turned at the sound of her voice, smiling as he took in her figure engulfed in his black, silk robe. The sleeves hung down past the tips of her fingers, and the hem drooped almost to the floor, but she didn’t care. It felt great against her naked skin.
“It’s the deep fryer,” he said, pointing toward a large pot of oil bubbling on the granite counter. “I hope you like steak and fries—I’m doing both white and sweet potatoes.”
“Are you kidding? That’s the food of the gods. Can I do anything to help?”
“Thanks, but I’ve got it under control. I’ll put the steaks on the barbecue soon. Take your time getting dressed—there’s no rush.”
“I’ll be quick.” She scurried across the cool stone floor and kissed him on the cheek. “Back in a few minutes.”
Julian had told her to rest after they made love that afternoon, and she did, dozing for at least an hour after he got up to start on dinner. The afternoon delight had left her languid and satisfied, like a cat lying in a sunlit window. Though she’d had more sex in the past week than in months before, she couldn’t get enough of Julian. She’d taken yet another risk by ambushing him as soon as he brought her inside the house, but he’d responded with all the passion she’d dreamed about since they said goodbye in Vegas. Maybe it was the excitement of being in his house and making love in his bed, but whatever the reason, her mind-blowing orgasm had left her trying not to sob in his arms. When he asked what was wrong, she hadn’t known how to answer him. She brushed it off, claiming she was just tired. But she had hugged him tightly until he’d gently extracted himself from her arms and gone off to start dinner.
Now, reliving their passionate lovemaking as she changed into a sundress and freshened her makeup, her stomach fluttered with anxiety as she faced the truth. Was this the way it was going to be? That she’d be a watering pot whenever he made love to her? How could she tell Julian the reason for her tears and the lump in her throat that didn’t want to go away?
But he didn’t want to hear the real reason, and she had no intention of telling him. She couldn’t say she’d cried because she was falling in love with him and was scared out of her mind she’d lose him, like she’d lost every other person in her life that she’d loved. More unexplained tears like this afternoon’s, and he might decide to cut bait before he had a full-blown, clingy basket case on his hands. Anyway, she’d come to California to have a weekend of fun and sex with the hottest man she’d ever met, not to moon over what might or might not be.
As she stared grimly at her reflection in the mirror, she vowed to keep telling herself that until it stuck in her brain. The last thing either of them needed was any kind of drama. Julian had given her the chance of a lifetime on a gold platter, and she’d be damned if she’d screw it up.
When she returned, Julian had disappeared from the kitchen. She padded barefoot through the dining room and out the sliding glass doors to the patio. Across the lawn, the setting sun streaked the sky above the low mountains with shades of orange and purple. A fountain gurgled in the background, the only noise she could discern in the still, late evening air. Torrey didn’t move for a moment, captivated by the breathtakingly beautiful scene.
A metal clang from the other end of the patio caught her attention.
“When I saw that sunset, I had to buy this place,” Julian said from behind the gleaming steel lid of a massive barbecue. “The house isn’t exactly overwhelming, but the grounds and the view…well, I don’t think you can beat it.”
Torrey nodded her agreement, her eyes exploring the rest of his little kingdom. A beautiful wrought iron and glass table, surrounded by six chairs padded in thick fabric, filled up one end of the patio. Two places had been set with rustic-looking china, along with crystal wine and water goblets. An open bottle of red wine and a pitcher of ice water had been placed between the two settings.
A billow of scented smoke wafted over from the grill. Her stomach rumbled, reminding her that she hadn’t eaten since an early lunch before she left home. She wandered over to check on the steaks. Smiling, Julian put down his barbecue tongs and drew her into his arms.
“You make me want to say to hell with the steaks,” he said, his eyes scanning her skimpy cotton sheath.
“Forget it, buddy. I’m starving, and I’d kill for a piece of red meat,” she said, but then kissed him anyway.
He cupped her bottom and drew her against him as she threw her arms around his neck and deepened the kiss. “You’re driving me completely insane,” he murmured against her lips. “You know that, don’t you? What the hell am I supposed to do with you?”
She gave a dramatic sigh. “You’re not really that dumb, are you? How did you manage to make all that money?” She nestled her breasts against him as she ran her fingers through his thick hair.
For a moment, he surrendered to her embrace. Then his eyes went wide when he glanced over at the grill. With a quick lunge, he flipped the steaks onto a white porcelain serving platter.
“That was a close one, you devil temptress. Twenty seconds more and they’d be overcooked,” he said, turning off the gas and closing the barbecue lid. “You did say medium rare, didn’t you?”
“Deep pink.” Her voice felt thick with desire. “I thought for a moment there they’d end up incinerated.”
He laughed. Setting the serving dish down, he held the chair for her to sit. “Why don’t you pour us some wine? I’ll be back with the fries and veggies in a second,” he said as he disappeared into the house.
When he returned with two heaping platters of fries—one white potato and one sweet—and a dish filled with sautéed green beans and mushrooms, Torrey’s stomach rumbled again in anticipation. She constantly battled to keep her weight under control, and steak and fries wasn’t her standard fare du jour. But this weekend was all about indulgence. Just this once, she refused to listen to the nagging little recriminations in her head.
Julian raised his wine glass. “To good food and good company,” he toasted, clinking his crystal against hers.
“And to glorious sunsets and sunny mornings,” she replied, taking a long swallow of the red. The fine Bordeaux slid down her throat like melted butter and honey. “This is fabulous wine.”
“I’m a bit of a collector,” he admitted, swirling the wine around in the goblet. “I’ll show you my cellar later if you’re interested.”
“I’d love to see it. Do you collect anything else besides wine?”
“No. It’s a bit of a dream of mine to start a serious wine collection someday—if I can ever ease back from work.”
If her hunch was correct, he probably had a world-class wine collection in his cellar already, but didn’t want to boast about it. In fact, Julian seemed to disdain most of the trappings of the super-rich. He certainly didn’t drive an over-the-top car, and appeared to only h
ave the one vehicle. His home, though spacious and beautiful, had to be extremely modest by billionaire standards. She’d expected to be blown over and intimidated this weekend by his wealth—chauffeured and pampered, wined and dined in the most expensive restaurants, ensconced in some palatial mansion with staff to wait on them. Instead she found herself eating a perfect, home-cooked meal on the patio of a fine but not overwhelming bungalow without so much as a housekeeper in sight.
It didn’t fit the scenario she’d constructed in her mind, but it made her happy and filled her with a guilty sense of relief. In all her daydreams over the past few days, she’d had a hard time imagining how she could fit into Julian’s gold-plated world. Now, sitting across from him in the cool evening breeze, eating a simple dinner, she had no trouble at all seeing herself right here—and for more than just a weekend. Maybe, if her luck held out, for a lifetime.
* * *
From the moment he picked her up at the airport, Julian had studied Torrey’s reactions to everything—to his car, to his house, to his decision to take her straight home for a barbecue. He’d expected some raised eyebrows at the very least. Most women he’d been with had constructed some mental image of how he lived and hadn’t managed to hide their disappointment when the image didn’t fit the reality. Not that his place was shabby. But after all the opulent suites, fabulous meals, limos and clubs of their Vegas outing, he figured Torrey and the other caddies must have thought the OTE guys lived like oil-rich sheiks back home.
But other than a flicker of raised eyebrow when he pulled up in front of the house, Torrey hadn’t shown a hint of surprise, much less disappointment. If anything, she seemed relieved.
He lived the way he did mostly out of preference. But he couldn’t deny the existence of an underlying motive too—to encourage the avaricious to head for greener pastures. Trophy wives not only wanted big-time money, they wanted a lifestyle that made sure everybody knew how rich their husbands were.
Julian had inadvertently dated a few social x-rays. Usually he had their number before he gave a thought to bringing them home. But on the rare occasions when his house had been the mine in the “your place or mine” scenario, the looks on their faces had practically shouted I thought you were richer than this. Only now was he admitting to himself that part of the reason he brought Torrey home instead of taking her to a top-scale city hotel suite overlooking the bay was to see if she would react like those other women had. That in itself was kind of weird—as if he had given her some kind of test. Sure, she wanted him to sponsor her, but he had never once gotten the sense that she was out to use him. Her feelings for him seemed totally genuine. And since he was being so honest with himself, they were a little bit stronger than he was comfortable with.
Hell, his own feelings for her were stronger than he was comfortable with.
He placed the dessert platter down on the table in front of her.
“Sorry this is store-bought,” he apologized, slicing a sizeable wedge of lemon cheesecake. “I don’t do desserts.”
“Ah, then you’re not quite the perfect Renaissance man after all,” she deadpanned. “Acceptably close, though.” She took a bite of the cake and closed her eyes, looking blissfully happy.
That was the great thing about Torrey, he was beginning to discover. She truly appreciated the small but satisfying pleasures in life.
Julian strolled back into the house, returning in a couple of minutes with a butane lighter, a small bottle of wine, and two crystal wine glasses. With the fall of night, the air had gone chill, so he decided to light the tall propane heater he kept on the patio. As soon as the gas ignited, the fan fired up and blew warm air toward the table. He took his seat, uncorked the bottle and filled Torrey’s glass.
“Try this,” he said. “Canadian ice wine, made from Vidal grapes. Have you had ice wine before? It’s great with dessert.”
“No, but I can’t wait to try it.”
“Just sip it—a little goes a long way.”
Torrey raised the small glass to her lips and took a tiny sip, closing her eyes as she savored the taste. Her pink tongue came out and licked a drop that beaded on her sexy lower lip. Christ. Just about everything she did made him want to haul her back into the bedroom and screw her silly.
“Exquisite,” she murmured.
He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, trying to discreetly camouflage his burgeoning erection.
“I promised you we’d drink wine on my patio while we gazed at the stars, didn’t I? And here we are.” He pulled his chair around beside hers so they faced the same direction. He looked up into the night sky, dark and glittering with thousands of points of light. “I’m glad we didn’t have to set a rain date.”
“It’s beautiful, Julian,” Torrey said, her voice catching. “Thank you for such a special night.” She leaned her head against his shoulder, and her hand settled on his forearm. A rare peace settled over him. It felt good to have her here.
After a few quiet, companionable minutes, Julian took the empty glass from her hand. Helping Torrey to her feet, he drew her into his arms and kissed her. The instant his lips touched hers, she opened with sweet eagerness. Her hands slid around his waist, and her fingers pressed into the base of his spine. As her tongue played with his, he ran his hands down her back all the way from her shoulders to her bottom. With a jolt, he discovered she wasn’t wearing anything under the simple dress. When Torrey gave a throaty groan, molding her lush body to his, Julian decided they’d seen enough stars for the night.
“How about I put on a fire inside?” he murmured in her ear.
“Mmm…sounds wonderful,” she replied with a sexy purr. Her silky hair brushed against his cheek, and he drew in her fresh, sweet scent.
He forced himself to let her go for the briefest moment while he shut down the propane heater and grabbed the bottle of ice wine. His arm securely around her waist, he guided her through the patio doors and into the big living room, illuminated by only a few shards of light streaming in from the kitchen. Julian plucked a long match from a black metal dish on the hearth, knelt and struck it against the stone. Soon the kindling flared up, igniting the logs with a blaze of flame.
He watched for a few moments to be sure the fire had caught, then turned around. Torrey stood three feet from him, completely and gloriously naked, her dress pooled at her feet.
“You could use a bearskin rug,” she said with a sultry smile.
He raked his gaze over her, making no pretense at anything other than rampaging lust. She always managed to surprise him. One moment she seemed diffident, almost shy. The next, she was confident and completely comfortable with her own sexuality.
The burgeoning fire bathed her skin in a glowing orange light, highlighting the graceful lines of her toned, curvaceous body. Julian wet his suddenly dry lips, damn near ready to declare her a goddess.
He drew her gently forward into his arms. “Come to papa, gorgeous,” he growled. She giggled, and the sweet, eager sound wound him even tighter.
Lowering his mouth to her parted lips, he smoothed his hands down the curve of her bottom. His erection strained against the fabric of his pants, pressing tight against her naked abdomen. She moaned as he ground his cock against her and reached down to pull apart his belt buckle. In the time it took for a low rumble to rise up from his throat, her deft fingers had his zipper down and were stroking his erection through his briefs. “Oh yeah,” he groaned, lowering his head to her generous breasts.
Torrey freed his cock, languidly stroking it as he bent to capture one stiff nipple in his mouth. He suckled the taut point while she pumped his cock with one hand and gently caressed his balls with the other.
“That’s it,” she breathed, arching her back as he gave a deep suck. “God, I love the feel of your mouth on my nipples. It always makes me so wet.”
Julian unlatched himself just long enough to rip apart the buttons of his shirt, kick off his loafers and step out of his pants and briefs. Breathing hard, Torrey helped h
im undress, pulling the shirt from his arms and tossing it to the floor. Naked, he swept her up and laid her on the long leather sofa, directly in front of the fire. For want of a bearskin rug, the sofa would have to do. He wasn’t about to take her on the stone tiles of his living room floor, and he couldn’t make it to the bedroom.
He tossed the throw cushions onto the floor and knelt, his hand caressing her stomach as he marvelled at how a caddy he’d met only a week ago had been able to make him forget everything but his endless desire for her. He’d had his fair share of sensual women, but Torrey was different. Torrey played for the heart, whether he wanted her to or not. He suspected she just couldn’t help it.
“Julian? What’s wrong?” she whispered.
He snapped out of his little reverie, his heart twisting a bit at the anxiety shading her voice. Shaking his head in reply, he bent his head, tonguing her breast as he slid his hand between her silken thighs. The heat of the now-roaring blaze in the fireplace washed over his back, and sweat beaded on his brow. But most of the heat he felt came from her, and his roaring desire to be inside her. He coasted his hands up her thighs to delve between her wet folds. When he found her hard clit, she whimpered, moving her hips to follow the play of his fingers. Her head fell back against the bolster of the couch, her eyelids fluttering shut, her pretty mouth forming a soft O of pleasure.
God, she was the hottest thing he’d ever seen.
“Sit up a bit,” he commanded in a raspy voice.
Without opening her eyes, she pushed herself up. He knelt between her open legs, sliding his hands under her thighs to ease them wide open. He wanted to see all of her, drawing her folds apart to stare hungrily at the pink, glistening flesh. With a low growl, he sucked her hard nub into his mouth, eliciting a gasp of delight from deep in her throat as she laced her fingers behind his head. Alternately flicking her clit with his tongue and sucking it gently into his mouth, he slipped two fingers into her moisture-drenched vagina and stroked it with a steady rhythm. Torrey’s breathing grew rapid, almost ragged.
