by Tina Folsom
He was saying all the right things, but could she allow herself to be with him, knowing that there was no future? She hadn’t forgotten what he’d told her about his sister—that she’d trapped Quentin with a pregnancy. Wouldn’t she, Holly, in fact be doing the same? And Paul’s comments about having a child so early in a relationship hadn’t escaped her either. It was a strain on any relationship, and on theirs it would be the iceberg that sank the ship.
“Holly,” he murmured seductively, and his voice sank into her cells. “Despite everything, I wanted to see you again. That’s why I made that ridiculous proposal. But I don’t want you to feel that you have to do anything just because I paid for your time. Our deal still stands: no sex for money.” He sighed and his breath ghosted over her face. “But by God, you can’t imagine how much I long to make love to you again. After last night I realized that it wasn’t enough. I’m starving here, Holly.”
Her heart hammered in her chest. “What you said last night—is it true that you haven’t slept with anybody else in two months?”
Paul closed his eyes for a moment, then blinked them open again. “I don’t want you to put too much stock in those words, though they are true.”
Holly smiled, inexplicably pleased that he appeared embarrassed about it. “Because you were busy with work, right?”
“Right.”
“So you took care of yourself.”
He raised an eyebrow.
“Like you took care of yourself the night I stayed with you in New York.”
“You watched me?”
“I was thirsty and wanted to get a bottle of water from the kitchen. I saw you on the couch. The light from the city made it hard not to see you.” She remembered the sight only too well. “How you touched yourself. How hard your cock was.”
Paul pressed his groin against her. The hard outline of his cock was impossible to ignore.
“As hard as it is now,” she confirmed. “I wanted to go to you then and suck you into my mouth, but I couldn’t.”
“Why not?”
“You didn’t want me. You didn’t want to be touched by an e—”
He pressed a finger to her lips, preventing her from finishing the word. “Do you want to know what I was thinking of when I touched myself?” He paused for a moment. “You. I was thinking of making love to you. Just like all the other nights before that. I was imagining spreading you before me and licking your beautiful pussy and then, once you came, thrusting into you and riding you until we both came together. That’s what I was thinking of. Does that sound to you like I didn’t want you to touch me?”
Holly gently shook her head.
“Good. Then I think we understand each other, don’t we?”
Lifting her lashes, she looked into his eyes.
A smile formed on his lips. “In that case, why don’t we get rid of these clothes and get a little more comfortable on that couch over there? That is, if you want to make love to me too.”
They undressed each other without haste. Paul didn’t yet know what Holly’s revelation that she’d quit the escort business truly meant, but he knew it was a step in the right direction. Right now, though, he couldn’t even think as far into the future as the next day. It didn’t matter. He would try to jump any hurdle that appeared in front of him when it happened and not worry about it in advance. It was more important to enjoy the moment.
When he laid the naked Holly down on the broad sofa, slipped on a condom, and moved over her, positioning himself between her spread legs, he felt tenderness overwhelm him. He wasn’t looking for some frantic fucking, but for connecting with her on a deeper level. Gently, he brushed a strand of her beautiful hair to the side and caressed her cheek, then let his fingers trail to her neck.
“I feel very lucky that you allow me to touch you.”
“Don’t make me wait,” Holly whispered, and undulated her hips.
“I have to look at you first, so I can be sure I’m not dreaming.” He let his gaze roam, drinking in the sight of her creamy skin, her pert nipples, and her blue eyes. He’d never seen a more beautiful woman, let alone had a woman as gorgeous as Holly in his bed. And as adventurous. That thought made his cock swell even more.
Slowly he pulled back his hips and adjusted his angle. Then he pushed forward, pressing against her wet sex and parting her nether lips with his cockhead. The tightness of her channel as he inched forward tested the limits of his control. But he didn’t give in to the need to climax right there and then. Instead, he continued to hold Holly’s gaze and sink more deeply into her without rushing the experience.
Holly’s eyelids fluttered.
“It’s okay,” he murmured. “Close your eyes if you need to. Do whatever feels good for you. I want to give you more pleasure than you’ve ever experienced.”
Her eyes flew open and she pinned him with her gaze. “Why?”
Paul dipped his head closer to hers. “Because I like you, Holly. I really, really like you.” Then he captured her lips and in the same instant he seated himself all the way in her welcoming pussy. He swallowed her moan and poured every ounce of passion he felt for her into the kiss. And he added something else: affection. Because what he’d said was true. He liked Holly more than he wanted to admit to anybody outside the protective walls of the pool house. In here he felt safe enough to confess to her that she meant something to him. Out there the world would judge him. And he wasn’t sure he was ready for that. Ready to be judged for falling in love with a call girl. Well, a former call girl.
Slowly, Paul moved his hips back and forth, sliding in and out of Holly’s body in slow and gentle movements. Tonight was different. He sensed it in every touch, every kiss. Tonight they’d talked honestly and as a result, their relationship had changed. He wasn’t the man who’d hired her anymore. Tonight, he was her lover, and everything they did was because they both wanted it, they both consented to it, because they were attracted to each other.
Despite the slow pace of his movements, the pleasure that spread in his body and made his heart beat out of control was no less than during their passionate encounter the night before. On the contrary. Tonight he was more aware of Holly, of what she needed from him, of how he could give her more pleasure.
“Oh Paul,” Holly cried out, looking up at him in amazement.
He caressed her face while he continued to move inside her, his cock as eager as ever. “You wanna come, baby?”
She blinked in agreement.
“Then keep on saying my name, and I’ll take you there,” Paul promised, and increased his tempo while he slid his hand between their bodies.
As his name burst from Holly’s lips, his finger found her clit with unerring precision. With every thrust into her responsive body, he caressed her center of pleasure with more pressure. All he wanted was to find release with Holly while she shuddered in his arms.
“Paul! Paul!” she kept chanting, and the sound of her sweet voice sent shockwaves into his balls.
“Holly! Oh God, Holly!”
Holly twisted underneath him, her body thrashing now. A moment later, her back arched off the sofa and she stiffened.
“Yes!” he yelled. “Fuck, yes!”
On his next thrust his orgasm crested like an ocean wave, then crashed over him, colliding with the waves that went through Holly’s body as she climaxed. His chest was heaving, his body dripping with sweat, and his heart was racing as if he were sprinting.
“Baby,” he managed to say, before capturing her lips again and kissing her for what seemed like an eternity.
When he released her, there was a wet sheen covering her eyes. He didn’t want to embarrass her, so he pretended not to see it, but the knowledge of how emotional their lovemaking had been for her warmed his heart.
“Let’s stay here tonight,” he murmured. “I don’t want to run into anybody in the house and ruin this night.”
Holly smiled up at him. “I’d like that.”
Paul nuzzled his face in the crook of
her neck and chuckled. “I have to warn you, though—since we’re out here where nobody can hear us, you’re at my mercy.”
Her legs tightened around his hips as she pulled him closer. “See, that’s where you’re wrong. Because you’re at my mercy tonight.”
“Do your worst,” he encouraged her, and tried to remember how many condoms he’d tucked away in his pants pockets.
24
Holly managed to ease the bathroom door shut, hoping not to wake Paul, before she had to bend over the toilet bowl to throw up. Sabrina had warned her that morning sickness could be awful, but until now Holly had dismissed her claim as exaggerated.
Not anymore. Morning sickness was awful.
It took minutes before she was able to lift herself up again, flush the toilet one last time, and wash out her mouth at the sink.
“Holly, are you okay?” Paul asked through the door.
She glanced in the mirror over the sink and nearly recoiled. She looked as white as a sheet. “I’m fine. It’s nothing.” She opened the medicine cabinet, found a bottle of mouthwash, and gargled.
“Are you sure?”
Holly placed the bottle back where she’d found it and opened the bathroom door, forcing a smile. “Probably just something I ate last night. The food your mother’s cook made was very rich. I’m not used to that,” she lied.
“I should have offered you a brandy after dinner. It helps with digesting all that fat in the food,” Paul suggested, and brushed his hand over her head.
He was wearing his boxer briefs and his shirt, while Holly had wrapped a blanket around herself. “We’d better get dressed,” she deflected. “I’m sure they’re wondering why we’re not there for breakfast yet.”
Paul chuckled. “I must admit, I’m a tad hungry after last night’s . . . pleasurable activities.”
The thought of food made Holly’s stomach feel queasy once more, but there was nothing left in it to throw up, so she tried not to think of it and reached for her clothes. They got dressed in companionable silence, and moments later, left the pool house.
Instead of having a few moments to brace herself for the next encounter with Paul’s mother, Holly was confronted with her instantly. The entire Gilbert family—plus Tara—sat on the terrace, enjoying their breakfast. Everybody turned to look at her and Paul when they approached, surprise etched on their faces in various degrees when they realized where they’d emerged from.
“You slept in the pool house?” Paul’s mother asked, tossing a disapproving look in her son’s direction.
Paul’s hand holding hers tightened as he guided her up the stairs to the terrace. “Morning, everybody.” He motioned for Holly to sit in the chair next to Tara’s, while several good mornings came in response.
Holly noticed that the only other empty chair was next to Paul’s father, so she and Paul would have to sit as far away from each other as possible. Was this his mother’s way of trying to split them up? She would have to do better than that.
“Coffee, Holly?” Paul asked.
Though she knew she couldn’t drink it right now, she nodded.
“Sit down, Paul! Consuela will serve the coffee,” his mother commanded.
Holly fiddled with her napkin. When she looked up, she stared right at Mirabelle, who gave her a concerned look.
“You look awfully pale, Holly. Are you feeling all right?” Mirabelle asked.
“I’m f—”
“Holly isn’t used to the rich food Consuela cooked last night,” Paul interrupted.
Holly wanted to groan. There was no need for his family to know that she wasn’t feeling well. She didn’t want to draw any attention to herself. “I’m perfectly fine.”
The cook, whom Holly had briefly seen the night before, appeared on the terrace, wearing a uniform and carrying a Thermos. “More coffee?” she asked politely.
“Thank you, Consuela,” Paul said. “One for Holly and one for me.”
When Consuela poured the coffee into Holly’s cup and its smell rose to her nostrils, Holly instinctively gripped her stomach. She turned her head, which only sent a whiff of pastries her way and made things worse.
Holly rose from her chair. “I’m sorry, I’m actually not hungry.”
When she turned, she caught a concerned look from Mirabelle, then her gaze collided with Paul’s. “Do you want me to get you anything?” he asked. “I’ll come with you.”
She waved him off. “No, no. It’s fine. Why don’t you enjoy your breakfast? I’ll be down in a little while.”
When she reached the inside of the house, Holly sighed. Maybe lying down would help curb her nausea.
Paul watched Holly walk inside before turning back and sitting down at the table.
“Well, who’s ever heard of somebody not liking Consuela’s food?” his mother said loud enough for Consuela, who was just about to follow Holly back into the house, to hear.
“I didn’t say Holly didn’t like her food. I said it caused her an upset stomach,” Paul corrected his mother with a tight jaw. He hadn’t expected he’d have to fight with his mother over breakfast. Normally she didn’t start spewing venom until lunch.
He turned to Consuela, who was still hovering at the French doors. “Dinner was fabulous, Consuela. Both Holly and I loved it. Holly said she would love the recipe, if it’s not too much trouble.” Paul wouldn’t allow his mother to turn the staff against Holly.
“Of course, I’ll get it for her.” A smile spread on the cook’s face.
“Thank you!” Paul turned back and took a sip from his coffee.
“Did you have a nice walk last night?” Mirabelle asked, smiling at him from across the table.
He winked at her. “Very nice.”
“I’m sure Tara would love to go for a walk along the beach too,” his mother suggested. “It’s such a great day.”
“Nora,” his father interjected. “We’re only just having breakfast. Let’s not plan out the whole day yet.”
His mother smiled at him warmly. “I’m just trying to make sure our guest doesn’t get bored, darling.”
“I’ll be going for a little walk on the beach with Jonathan later,” Olivia helped out, turning to Tara. “Maybe you want to come along with us? But I can’t promise how far we’ll get. It’ll depend on that little rascal here.” She ruffled Jonathan’s hair, who, to Paul’s surprise, ate his eggs rather quietly.
“That would be nice,” Tara said.
“I think I’ll join you,” Quentin added.
Olivia raised an eyebrow. “But didn’t you say just a half hour ago that you needed to work?”
“That can wait.”
“Oh, dear!” Mirabelle suddenly exclaimed.
“What is it?” Paul’s father asked, concern in his voice as he leaned toward her.
Mirabelle sighed. “I forgot my pills in my room.”
“I’ll get them for you,” Paul’s father offered.
She put a hand on his arm, preventing him from getting up. “No, no. Stay and finish your breakfast. You won’t find the right ones. I’ll get them.” Then she looked across the table. “Paul, would you mind giving me a hand?”
Paul shot up from his chair. “Of course.” Though he didn’t think his great-aunt needed any help, he went around the table and helped her out of the chair, then offered his arm to lead her into the house. She appeared to walk a little slower than usual.
As soon as they were inside, Mirabelle let go of his arm and started walking faster. Suspicious, he stopped. “What’s going on?”
Mirabelle turned her head and waved him forward. “If you don’t want anybody to overhear our conversation, you’d better get a move on. One would think you were an old man, walking so slowly.”
As Paul followed her into the hallway and down the corridor to the only guest room on the main floor, he couldn’t suppress a chuckle. “You’re not really looking for your pills, are you?”
“Do I look like I need pills?” She rolled her eyes and entered her room, t
hen indicated he should shut the door behind him.
“What are you up to?” Paul asked
“I was going to ask you the same, my devious nephew.”
“What are we talking about?”
“Holly.”
Shock shot through him. Had Mirabelle already seen through his charade and realized that Holly wasn’t really his girlfriend? But how? Since before Mirabelle and his parents had arrived, he and Holly had in fact been behaving like boyfriend and girlfriend. They hadn’t just been pretending. So how could she have found out?
“So you know.”
“Of course I know. It’s kind of obvious. First she doesn’t drink any alcohol when everybody else is drinking. And even at dinner she had water.”
“Huh? What has that got to do with it?”
“Do you know nothing about medical issues?”
Paul felt like scratching his head. “I’m not following.”
“Maybe your parents don’t see the signs yet, but Holly looked like a ghost this morning, and a girl who didn’t drink the night before and then throws up in the morning can only mean one thing.”
He held his breath. This wasn’t about his hiring Holly as an escort at all. This was about something entirely different.
“So how long are you going to keep it from your parents that your girlfriend in pregnant?” Mirabelle sighed. “I mean, I know your mother can’t stand her, but that shouldn’t stop you.”
Paul shook his head. This wasn’t possible. Holly couldn’t be pregnant. Not by him. No, she couldn’t be pregnant at all. Escorts—no, ex-escorts—made sure they didn’t get pregnant. They used condoms, took the Pill. Anything to avoid that occupational hazard.
“Oh my God, you didn’t know,” his great-aunt suddenly said. “She hasn’t told you yet.” Mirabelle put a calming hand on his arm, though it did nothing to soothe the storm inside him that was only starting to build. “It’s early still. She must still be in her first trimester. The morning sickness often dissipates after that.”
