Closer

by Aria Hawthorne

  There, there, there, he thought, as she wound her fingers around his head, nudging him in deeper and deeper with a silent gasp. God, how he loved the sight of her, spread open against his work, submitting herself to him. He braced her ass and forced her to accept every swirl of his tongue until she shuddered again, forcibly, uncontrollably, peaking with a moan before falling mute in disappointment.

  “I need to feel you again...”

  The urgency in her voice told him she would not be denied. He rose from his knees and smothered her with his chest, wrapping her legs around his waist and seeking out the slick heat of her slit with the wet tip of his shaft. Reuniting them as lovers, he pinned her arms above her head and nestled his nose against her ear.

  “I want anything you want.”

  She closed her eyes and relaxed her wrists into his control. “I want to feel you. Just you.” Like a forbidden wish, her request drifted out of the darkness.

  She only needed to say it once. He settled the full weight of his body against her heavy breasts and squared himself against her wetness, thrusting deeply and completely inside her. She opened her eyes and gasped. He cradled her head, steadying his cock until she exhaled—a release of quivering tension. Then, he drove into her again, arcing his cock upwards with a determined lunge. Her tremors rippled like a current between them. She gasped and dug her fingernails into his shoulder blades. He knew what she needed from him. He had discovered it last night while they were making love: she needed his unwavering commitment to unleash her from her own inhibitions at all costs.

  Pulling her up from the table, he sat back into the swivel chair and angled her above him. He covered her groan with his mouth as the heat from their entangled tongues mimicked the rushing heat of his cock as he thrust himself fully inside her. The intimacy of his skin against hers fueled his primal desire to drive deeper, grinding his pelvis against her clit. Warm, wet, open—accepting of him in every way. She straightened up from his embrace, angling her clit into every lunge of his throbbing cock, seeking out her own attempts to stimulate herself against each persistent thrust. There, there, there…he heaved an uncontrollable moan. Her wetness glazed his bare skin, granting him the gift of driving deeper and deeper and deeper. The gift of her sacred trust.

  He reached out to massage her heavy breasts, swaying in rhythm with his pace, before raising his lips and swirling his tongue around each tit. She threw back her head as he rocked harder and harder into her slickness, setting her free with an uncensored cry of gratification, signaling she was on the verge of her own climax. Accelerating his pace, he pumped and pumped and pumped until he thought he might break her, clenching his teeth and withholding his orgasm for the sake of her own.

  Was he falling in love with her?

  He had expressed the sentiment only a handful of times before in his life, but never during his own climax. It had always made him feel too vulnerable. But now, as he drew her face towards his own, and covered her heaving sigh with his kiss, he longed for every vulnerability that he could share with her and that she would share in return. She wrapped herself around him like her savior and screamed out until she was breathless with relief. Her whole body trembled in his embrace as he showered her neck, throat, and collarbone with a hundred kisses, silently making a hundred promises to make her come that way every time he made love to her because she had been his savior. They had saved each other.

  * * * *

  He opened his eyes when her kiss whispered against his forehead.

  “I have to go, but I didn’t want to leave without saying good-bye.”

  He gazed up into her dark brown eyes. Like a mythical nymphet. He pushed up onto his elbow and rubbed his face, groggy with slumber.

  “Leaving so early?” He glanced at the wall clock, then back at her.

  She was fully dressed in her jeans and side slung T-shirt. Her long black hair was swept back into a casual ponytail and her lips were glossy and pink. He dropped his gaze onto Luna, strapped in her car seat and sucking on a pacifier.

  “James is downstairs, waiting for me. He’s going to drive me home.”

  “Why?” He reached out for her hand, challenging her. “We can buy anything you need. You know that.”

  “Sven…” she paused, willing him to understand he couldn’t solve all her problems. “I haven’t been home for an entire day. I have to check on my grandmother.”

  He surrendered, puffing out his breath, and flopped down into the bed. Dutiful to her core. It was one of the many things he had grown to love about her. He propped himself up with an extra pillow as she lifted the diaper bag onto the bed and rummaged through it, pulling out her phone, a baby blanket, a single diaper, two pairs of baby socks, a hand-held breast pump, and a plastic bottle filled with expressed milk.

  Even as a single mother, wearing torn jeans and a simple T-shirt, she was still the sexiest woman with whom he had ever had the pleasure of sharing his bed and he wanted to keep her there with him—forever.

  “Please say you’re coming back soon.”

  “I’m pretty sure I don’t have a choice,” she mused, still searching for something in the diaper bag and failing to find it. “Tonight is the grand opening of The Spire. My final work night, right?”

  “Yes, the grand opening,” he repeated, as if he almost wished it wasn’t the case.

  “Although now that your vision is back to normal, I suppose that means I’ve become redundant,” she teased, mocking his affected accent and their business arrangement.

  He arched his brow. “Does that mean I get to fire you?”

  “Maybe I’ll just quit.”

  “Heartless, as expected.”

  She shrugged. “I make it a policy not to sleep with my bosses.”

  He lunged forward and swept her up into his arms. “Then I promise not to take your clothes off until after midnight.”

  He nestled his nose into her shoulder and kissed her neck. God, how he loved her scent. She cried out with a laugh and sank down into his embrace. “You’re assuming that I plan to be your sex slave every night.”

  “You say that as though you didn’t enjoy it. Twice.”

  She gazed at him, withholding her smile. “I did enjoy it, but…” her voice trailed off.

  He waited and held her tighter. “But what?”

  “Sven…” she paused and circled her finger over the surface of his bare chest. “My life is really…complicated.”

  “I love complicated.”

  “But I have responsibilities. So, so, so many of them.”

  He touched her cheek, encouraging her to make eye contact. “We’ll share them.”

  She looked deeply into his eyes, as if she might allow herself to believe him—but only for a moment. “Sven…things were said and discussed last night that I’m not certain I can commit to.”

  “You mean Shanghai?”

  She nodded. “I don’t even have a babysitter for tonight, much less know how I could possibly entertain the idea of moving to another continent for three months.”

  He sliced his hand through the air to silence her. “Don’t.”

  She avoided his eyes and fiddled with the sheets. Luna stirred in the car seat with a whine and spit out the pacifier.

  “Don’t end it before it’s even started.” His voice was stern. He wanted her to look up at him.

  The baby whined again. Inez started to pull away, but he held her in his arms.

  “Last night wasn’t just about the sex. You know that, don’t you?”

  She nodded again and shrugged. He had seen that shrug before…it doesn’t matter, she was telling herself, emotionally withdrawing from him before he had a chance to disappoint her.

  “Inez,” he insisted, lifting her chin. “And it’s no longer about our arrangement.”

  “That’s a shame,” she quipped. “Because you were paying me really well.”

  “And I’ll still pay you for tonight, but not to be my sex slave.”

  “Too bad,” she shot back.
“I thought I was pretty good at being your sex slave.”

  He flashed her a smile. “You were excellent. But in the future, I want you to be more…so much more.”

  He led her lips to his own and kissed her in a way that he had failed to do this morning—warm, tender, and without any expectation other than the chance to convince her of his commitment to her.

  Luna fussed again. Inez sighed and pushed him away. He let her go.

  “I’ve lost her favorite chew toy.” Inez rubbed her hands, frazzled. “That damn giraffe, I have no idea what happened to it. And if I don’t find it, she’ll cry the whole way home.”

  Without permission, Sven reached over the edge of the bed, unclasped Luna’s belt, and drew her into his arms. “So go find it. I’ll babysit.”

  Skeptical, Inez eyed him. Then, she watched Luna, as if she was counting down the 3-2-1 blast off tantrum from being in his arms.

  “She has stranger anxiety.”

  “You have the anxiety,” he corrected her. “Babies love faces.”

  He donned the most ridiculous smile and tickled her chin. “Your mommy doesn’t trust me,” he cooed. “But you trust me because we went to the opera together and you know that I will take care of you.”

  Reluctantly, Inez turned away and returned to the balcony suite.

  “Not there,” he called out to her. “Try the master bathroom.”

  She doubled back and rounded the corner of the bathroom.

  “Found it!” she shouted in victory, her voice echoing off the tiled floor.

  “See?” He smoothed his hand over the child’s soft black hair, contemplating her dark eyelashes and cherub cheeks; her resemblance to Inez was disarming. He touched his nose against her forehead. She smelled like a mixture of baby powder and Inez’s floral shampoo. Outlining the fuchsia heart on her flannel pink onesie, he lowered his voice, soothing. “And I promise to take care of your mother, too.”

  He kissed her forehead—the same way Inez had awoken him—and placed her back in the car seat. Luna fussed again until Inez rushed out of the bathroom and consoled her with the toy.

  “I have to go now,” she said, exasperated, hurrying to gather up all her things. “James is waiting for me downstairs.”

  He snagged her hand again and pulled her towards him. “He’s paid to wait. Let him wait.”

  He nudged her for a kiss. She did not give in easily—not at first. But he refused to let her go. Yearning for her companionship, he kissed her lips and waited until she kissed him.

  “Promise me you’re going to spend the night here again—after the gala,” he insisted.

  “Right now, I’m worried that I don’t even have a babysitter who can stay with Luna in the evening while we’re there. My grandmother is great, but she’s blind and ailing, and she can’t watch Luna the whole day and night—although she’d never admit to it.”

  “I’ll take care of that,” he said with certainty, wanting to prove he could solve all her problems. She eyed him again; this time, she almost seemed to believe him.

  “Just promise me,” he urged her with another kiss. “You’ll stay here tonight again.”

  “I promise,” she whispered, touching his cheek before slipping away from him. She clutched the handle of Luna’s car seat into both hands and disappeared from the bedroom without looking back.

  Mistress Inez, he mused, too proud to need anything but her own independence. He flopped back against his pillows, pained by her absence before he even heard the front door click shut behind her. He gazed at the ceiling fan, counting the rotations of the whirling blades. She was right. He didn’t need her—not any more. But that made him want her in his life, now more than ever.

  Ping, ping, ping.

  He rose up from the bed, searching out the unfamiliar chimes of a phone message. Buried beneath the folds of the sheets, he discovered Inez’s cell phone. Forgotten in the wake of seeking out Luna’s giraffe. He peered down at its screen. It was the first time he could remember being able to read a phone message without a magnifying glass.

  ENZO, he read the name aloud and touched the screen to read the text.

  I’m at your house but your grandmother tells me you and Luna are not here. You cannot avoid me forever.

  A burning flame of jealousy flared inside Sven’s chest. Inez’s phone pinged again.

  If you are angry about what happened yesterday, it is because you still have feelings for me.

  Her phone pinged again.

  And if you still have feelings for me, then I will not give up on us. Te quiero, mi amor.

  Sven read the words over and over again until he realized the constriction in his heart had transferred to his clenched fist. Visceral memories overwhelmed him.

  In a sudden flashback, Sven relived the last time he had vied for a woman’s heart. He remembered the sensation of bobbing up and down while standing on the starboard deck of his sailboat and staring down his brother who had just confessed to stealing away Celeste. Hans had been right. He hadn’t loved Celeste and he didn’t deserve to marry her. But the betrayal of both his girlfriend and his brother enraged him. In a primal quest for revenge, he charged against Hans’ chest, knocking him against the steering console and bloodying his nose with a direct punch. They scuffled, wrestling like schoolboys, before Sven struck him again—a cracking punch to the ribs. The windy night rocked the ship. Sven wrestled his brother like a mortal enemy until they were halted by the sound of Celeste’s scream as they knocked her overboard into the churning waves. Hans threw the lifesaver to her while Sven drove into the black abyss after her.

  The only thing he remembered was the scorching strike to his eye socket, crashing against the hull of the ship and bursting into light like a nova star, before his hands and legs turned limp as he was smothered beneath the waves.

  Smothered beneath the waves. That’s how he suddenly felt in that moment.

  He touched his injured eye, overwhelmed by the memory. Now, just like then, he held his breath, fighting against the same sense of helplessness—being dragged down, down, down as the black waves suffocated him. It was happening all over again. He imagined himself back on the deck of that yacht, his emotions coursing through his chest like shards of glass scraping against his heart. Yes, he would do it all over again, he vowed. Because this time, he wasn’t enraged by the possibility of losing the woman he thought he loved. This time, it was a certainty—he knew he loved her.

  Giving in to the same vengeful impulse that had ruined his life for the past year, he lifted up Inez’s phone and texted back.

  I am staying at 767 Washington Ave. Penthouse suite 1500. I will be here until three o’clock. Don’t be late.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Sven lay in wait in his dimly lit study, lounging in his chair as his eyes fixated on the video screen of the security camera. While sipping the Holland gin from his tumbler, he studied Enzo approaching the front door of his penthouse.

  The doorman had called up minutes ago. Sven had given him permission to send Enzo up through the private elevator, and now, he watched him search for the door buzzer before giving up and pounding on the door. “Inez?”

  The front door clicked ajar and Enzo passed through it.

  Sven swiped the screen and switched cameras, tracking Enzo’s cavalier gait as he glided along the black marble floors through the living room.

  “Inez?” Enzo called out again, meandering towards the exterior walls of glass offering the panoramic view from the skyline. Met only with silence, Enzo doubled back through the living room along the ornamental mosaic wall and swaggered down the long corridor leading into the master bedroom, as if he expected to find her there, naked and in bed, awaiting his arrival.

  “Inez?”

  Enzo checked the bathroom before exiting onto the patio and surveying the balcony suite through the panels of glass. Then, he sauntered back into the master suite and stopped in his tracks, realizing he had missed a crucial detail during his first pass through the be
droom—the wall safe.

  Like a hunter tracking his prey, Sven downed his drink, eyeing the video screen.

  “Open the safe,” he whispered to Enzo’s image on his video screen.

  As if he heard the command, Enzo rubbed his chin, edged towards the safe, and peeled open the door that Sven had conveniently left unlocked.

  Like a criminal, Enzo glanced around him, weighing his chances of being caught, before pulling out the massive stack of cash and fanning through the endless bills with his thumb.

  “You’re lucky that’s intended for you,” Sven called out to him, leaning against the doorjamb. “Otherwise, it would be considered robbery.”

  Enzo tossed the stack onto the bed. “Ah, a trick from the fancy dentist boyfriend. I should have guessed.” He spread out his hands as if to show he had nothing to hide and circled the room. “Where’s Inez?”

  “She’s not here. This is a meeting between you and me.”

  Enzo peered through his black eyelashes. “Really? Does Inez know this?”

  Sven challenged him with a stern glare. “You’re here because I have an offer to make.”

  “What kind of an offer?”

  “A financial offer.”

  Enzo whistled. “So her new boyfriend is already pulling strings behind her back. I guess he’s not as honest and perfect as she thinks.” He nodded at the portrait of Inez resting on the dresser. “But he thinks he can buy whatever he wants, including her.” Flashing him a cocky smile, he said, “Inez must still be in love with me.”

  Sven felt the rage rising within his chest. He pushed off the doorway’s edge and prowled towards him. “Fifty thousand dollars—in cash—if you leave the country and never contact Inez again.”

  Enzo’s gleeful smile faded. “That’s a lot of money,” he acknowledged, swallowing hard and staring down Sven.