Sweet Stallion

by Deborah Fletcher Mello

  “What I know is that you will never have the right price. Have a good evening, Mr. Perry.”

  Garrison gave her and Patrick one last look before he turned, clearly miffed by the exchange. Giselle Perry was still standing there, staring at the two of them. As her brother stomped off, she eased her way in front of Patrick and brushed her hand across his chest. The gesture was teasing and purposely disrespectful.

  Patrick tensed, his discomfort obvious. He grabbed her wrist, halting the slow path she was tracing with her index finger. He took a step back, bringing himself shoulder to shoulder with Naomi.

  “Have a good evening, Giselle,” he said.

  “I was just being friendly, Patrick. Don’t get all in your feelings like you do. You really need to lighten up and learn how to take a joke.”

  “And you need to learn to keep your hands to yourself,” Naomi quipped. “No one found that funny, so don’t do it again.”

  Giselle tossed Naomi a quick look before refocusing her attention on Patrick. She watched as he grabbed Naomi’s hand and held it, squeezing her fingers. With a toss of her hair she sauntered after her family, not bothering to say goodbye.

  “Something I need to know about you and her?” Naomi asked as they gave the Perry family one last look and headed for the front door.

  Patrick shrugged, the gesture nonchalant. “Giselle and I used to date. A long time ago. Well, maybe not that long ago. But that’s been over for a while now. So, no, there’s nothing you need to know.”

  He and Naomi stared at each other as he reached for her hand again, pressing his lips to the back of her fingers.

  She smiled. “If she does it again I won’t be responsible for my actions. I will break her face.”

  Patrick grinned. “You made that very clear. I’m sure she got the message.”

  “And I may hurt you, too!” Naomi concluded.

  His laugh was gut deep. “I didn’t get that message at all,” he responded.

  “You just did.”

  “Does that mean we’re official now?” Patrick asked, as they stood waiting for the valet to return his car.

  “Excuse me?”

  “Does it mean we’re boyfriend and girlfriend? Because I think we should make it official.”

  Natalie laughed. “And how do we make it official?”

  “All you have to do is say yes.”

  She stared at him, a wry smile pulling at her glossed lips. They stood there in silence, gazing deep into each other’s eyes. The driver returning with Patrick’s car interrupted the moment, before Naomi could think of a thing to say.

  * * *

  Patrick’s penthouse apartment could easily have graced the cover of any architectural and interior design magazine. The contemporary styling was a juxtaposition of minimalist decor, clean lines, stainless steel and a color palette that revolved around multiple shades of gray with hints of black and white. It spoke volumes about Patrick O’Brien the attorney, but there was no hint to be found of Patrick O’Brien the man.

  “So, who’d you hire to do the decor for you?” Naomi asked, looking around the space.

  “Mrs. Perry recommended someone she uses. She and Giselle oversaw most of the work. It’s cool. Right?”

  “It’s cold,” Naomi said, tossing him a look.

  He stood in the kitchen, popping the cork on a bottle of wine. He nodded. “It’s a bit...well... It’s...”

  “Cold. There is none of your personality in this space. You don’t spend much time here, do you?”

  Patrick laughed. “Not really. I’m at the office more than I’m home. And when I’m not here I’m hanging out somewhere with Garrison. You’re right, there isn’t a lot of me in any of these rooms.” He shrugged his broad shoulders as he filled two crystal goblets, then followed her into the living room.

  Naomi moved to the windows as he set both glasses down on the coffee table. With the push of a button on a remote device, he dimmed the lights and engaged the stereo system, so that soft music floated from the speakers.

  Staring out the floor-to-ceiling windows that looked out over the city, Naomi paused, the words of the first song capturing her attention. The songstress was singing about being a woman in love with an unkind man. Despite the loneliness of her situation, she was still hopeful that love would see them through.

  Naomi felt herself swaying to the music as she listened intently. She closed her eyes and allowed herself to fall into the moment.

  Patrick easing his body against her back as he wrapped his arms around her came as a surprise, and she jumped, momentarily distracted from the tune. He murmured in her ear to ease her anxiety. Heat wafted from his skin and the subtle aroma of his cologne teased her nostrils. She felt at ease in his arms, safe and secure. She allowed herself to relax against his chest, her buttocks nestled snugly against his crotch. They stood quietly together, savoring the nearness of each other as the music flowed from one song to another. Outside, the city lights seemed to flicker in sync.

  “Your mother has an amazing voice,” Naomi said softly.

  “She does.”

  “Has she always sung?”

  “Since she was a little girl. She used to sing me Spanish lullabies when I was a kid. Her singing always made me feel protected...and special.”

  “She truly has a gift,” Naomi concluded as she spun in his arms and pressed herself against him. She wrapped her hands around his waist, her fingers pressing against the small of his back. She rested her cheek against his chest. His heartbeat vibrated gently, the rhythmic thump, thump, thump soothing.

  Patrick kissed her forehead and then her cheek, then cupped his hand beneath her chin to lift her face to his. He stared at her, wanting to say something, but unable to find the right words. Their gazes slowly meshed and then he dropped his mouth to hers and kissed her lips.

  “So,” he said, as he pulled himself from her, “you never answered my question.”

  “What question was that?”

  “About making our relationship official?”

  Her mouth lifted ever so slightly. Her coquettish expression made him laugh as she lifted her eyes to his. “You already knew the answer,” she responded. “I didn’t need to say anything.”

  “Humor me,” he said. “I need to be sure. I know how dodgy you can be.”

  Naomi laughed. “Dodgy? Really?”

  “You forget that I had to come find you that first time. When you were trying to get out of going to dinner with me? Or did you forget?”

  Her laughter rang warmly through the room. “That wasn’t being dodgy.”

  “Then what was it?”

  Naomi paused to ponder his question. “That was me being afraid.”

  He tightened his arms around her. “Afraid of me?”

  “No. Afraid of me. Afraid that I would want you.”

  He sniggered softly. “And you thought wanting me would be a bad thing?”

  Naomi stared into his eyes. “No, the exact opposite. I knew wanting you would be a very good thing,” she said, her voice dropping to a soft whisper. “I just didn’t know if I was ready for what that would mean and how it might change my life.”

  Patrick kissed her again, the peck on her cheek lingering for a moment. His hands danced the length of her back, coming to rest against the curve of her backside. He tapped her bottom, then gestured with his head. “Let’s sit down,” he said softly. He clasped her hand and led her toward the leather sofa.

  When they were seated comfortably beside each other, Patrick shifted to face her, drawing both her hands between his own. He hesitated, a multitude of thoughts flashing across his expression. When he finally spoke, their gazes met yet again, and she eyed him intently.

  “I’m not really good at this,” he said, choosing each word carefully. “I haven’t been
in a lot of relationships.”

  Naomi nodded. “I haven’t had much experience, either.”

  “Then we’re starting on the same page. I’m hoping that you want to see how far we can take this as much as I do. And while we’re on the journey, that we have a great time together. I would really like to see that happen with you, Naomi.”

  Her mouth lifted slightly, the smile like a sweet breeze. “I’m already enjoying the ride, Patrick. But I’ll be honest, I’m scared. I don’t want my heart broken.”

  “I don’t want mine broken, either!”

  “So, what happens when I go back to Arizona? Because I do have to go back. And soon.”

  “Then we’ll do long distance. I can commute there just as easily as you can commute back and forth here. Being apart will just make us appreciate each other more when we’re together.”

  “And your work with the Perrys?”

  “It’s my job. Running the farms is yours. When we leave our jobs, it will be about the two of us and nothing else.”

  “That’s not true. You have a friendship with your employer that goes above and beyond it just being business. I’m not sure I can deal with that.”

  “I see that as a challenge, but not one we can’t overcome if this is really what we both want,” Patrick quipped.

  “And is it something you want?”

  “I want to continue what you and I have started. I like the idea of the two of us together and I want to explore that to its fullest. So yeah, it’s what I want.”

  There was a moment’s pause as they both reached for their wineglasses at the same time. Patrick took a slow sip of his, while Naomi swallowed a large gulp. He laughed, amusement painting his expression.

  Naomi set her glass back on the table. “I can be mean,” she said, her eyes skating across his face. “Like raging, crazy mean. Slash-your-tires, key-your-car-paint kind of crazy. It’s not pretty.”

  “I really find that hard to believe.”

  Her head dipped slightly. “You have been warned.”

  Patrick laughed again. “Should I be scared?”

  “You should just be mindful not to piss me off.”

  “I will be solely focused on making you as happy as I possibly can.”

  Naomi grinned. She shifted forward, reaching up to wrap her arms around his neck. She entwined her fingers behind his head and locked them together. Leaning in, she brushed her cheek gently against his. The prickly beginnings of a five-o’clock shadow tickled her skin. His body was warm, heat wafting from his pores. He wrapped his arms around her, drawing her gently against him as she let her weight push him back against the sofa pillows until they were lying prone together.

  Their mouths met in a passionate kiss, tongues entwined and searching. Every muscle in Patrick’s body hardened with a vengeance, desire bulging urgently against the front of his slacks. Naomi felt him harden beneath her, his yearning a thick rod of steel between them. His hands danced the length of her torso and then he grabbed the cheeks of her backside, pulling her pelvis to his as he rotated his hips. There was a rush of warmth that burst from the core of her feminine spirit out through every nerve ending in her body. The intensity of it snatched the air from her lungs, hardened her nipples, dampened her panties and left her quivering with anticipation.

  The wave of emotion was more than Naomi could have imagined. A rise of anxiety suddenly pierced her midsection and she broke out into a sweat. She pulled herself from him, pressing a hand against Patrick’s chest as she moved back to her feet. Her wineglass was empty so she reached for his, draining it dry as she threw her head back against her shoulders.

  “What’s wrong, Naomi?” Patrick asked.

  She cut a quick glance toward him as she shook her head. “I just need us to take things a little slower.”

  He eyed her intently, but she avoided meeting his gaze. He took a breath and then a second as he stood up. Reaching for her, he pulled her back into his arms and hugged her tightly, then stepped back and held her at arm’s length. “We can take things as slowly as you need to. I don’t want you to feel like I’m pressuring you or anything.”

  “It’s nothing like that,” she said, shaking her head. “It’s not you. I just...well...” She bit her bottom lip, then dipped her head, focusing on his Italian leather shoes.

  Naomi didn’t have the words to explain the emotion that was flooding her spirit. His touch had ignited something deep in her core. Something that felt necessary and perfect and completely foreign to her. Something that was amazingly comfortable and scary as hell at the same time. When she looked back up at him tears misted her eyes.

  “I’m just nervous,” she finally muttered. “I’m not a prude or anything. It’s just...well...” She paused a second time.

  “Are you a virgin?” he asked, the thought suddenly rising in his mind.

  “No... I...” She shook her head vehemently. “No, I’m not a virgin, but I haven’t been with a lot of men, either. In fact, I’ve only been with two and, well...” She took a step away, not bothering to complete her thought. “I’m sorry. I should probably be going.” A single tear rolled down her cheek.

  Patrick stared at her for a moment. He stepped forward, closing the distance that separated them. He cupped her face with both hands, his thumb brushing away the saline droplet. He kissed her slowly, her forehead, one eye and then the other, her cheek, the tip of her nose and then her mouth, pressing his closed lips to hers. His touch was gentle and easy, and everything about him put Naomi at ease. She relaxed as he pulled her close, enveloping her in his arms.

  “You are an amazing woman, Naomi Stallion. And I’m glad you’re all mine.” He lifted her face to his and kissed her again.

  “Even though I’m probably being silly?”

  “Even though you’re being understandably cautious. This is very new. I get it. I also know that we have all the time in the world, so there’s no need for us to rush.”

  “Thank you,” she said, the faintest smile finally pulling at her lips.

  He kissed her one last time. “I’ll walk you down to your car. And let’s plan on doing dinner again tomorrow, please.”

  Naomi nodded. She reached for her jacket and purse. As they moved toward his front door, she called his name.

  “Yes?”

  “You’re pretty damn special yourself. And I’m glad I’m all yours, too!”

  Chapter 9

  Naomi felt like she was seventeen again, when she and Marla Kincaid’s cousin Jimmy lost their virginity together in the back of his father’s Cadillac Brougham. Marla had been Naomi’s best friend since forever. Nineteen-year-old Jimmy had been visiting from Los Angeles, an annual trek he and his family had been making since he was a little boy. They were still friends, keeping in touch via social media, yearly Christmas cards and Marla.

  That late-summer evening Jimmy had taken her for a Big Mac and fries at the local McDonald’s and then had convinced her that there was no reason not to come out of her panties for him. They were friends, neither wanted a serious relationship and both had been ready to see what all the fuss was about. With less than twenty dollars between them, a hotel room wasn’t feasible, her mother’s house was out of the question, and since that Caddy had a big enough backseat, it had only made sense to the two of them to use it.

  Six minutes of foreplay and one hundred eighty seconds later, it was over. That night, when she’d gotten home, she had more questions than answers, still trying to make sense of the moment. They’d done it four more times before Jimmy had returned to California. It was a few years after that when Naomi experienced her first orgasm, and she had Josiah Butler to thank. Josiah had been the local John Deere dealer, selling the farm their first tractor. He’d been all kinds of wrong from start to finish, and keeping in touch with him had never crossed her mind.

 
Remembering the men in her past and thinking about Patrick had Naomi’s emotions all over the place. She regretted having pushed him away, when deep down she had wanted him like she’d never wanted any man before. She hated that she was home alone, tossing and turning in bed, when she could have been sleeping comfortably beside Patrick, cuddled close in his arms. She sighed as she rolled from side to side.

  Naomi had purposely avoided relationships, choosing instead to throw herself into her work. Truth be told, loving any man was the last thing she had ever wanted for herself. Her mother’s love for Nolan Perry had destroyed her. Naomi had sworn to never end up like Norris Jean—bitter, angry and broken because she’d trusted a man to keep her heart safe. Naomi hadn’t planned to go down like that. And now here was Patrick, equally determined to break down her fortitude.

  She turned and wrapped her body around a pillow. Stalling the heat that always came when Patrick was near was becoming harder to do. He excited her. He challenged her sensibilities, and she imagined that if she ever allowed herself to lose control, there would be no turning back for either of them.

  * * *

  Patrick was on the phone, laughing heartily, when Garrison and Giselle stepped into his office. Neither bothered to knock before pushing their way inside. He had just called to check on Naomi, excited to hear her voice before his day got started. After apologizing again for cutting their previous evening short, she’d had him smiling, her snarky humor a delight. He hadn’t fathomed that he would love talking to any woman as much as he loved talking to Naomi. Everything about her vibrant spirit lifted his.

  He hated ending the conversation before he was ready. “What time do you want to meet for dinner?” he asked, spinning in his leather executive’s chair, away from the Perrys.

  Naomi’s voice rang sweetly in his ear. “It should be a short day today. I expect that I’ll be done by six o’clock.”

  “Then I’ll pick you up at seven. Will that work?”