by BETH KERY
He knew those eyes. He knew that face. So did half the population.
He dropped his hand.
Okay, so half the population wouldn’t recognize her. She wasn’t pop-star famous by any means, but she did have a loyal following, not to mention the fact that her work commanded the respect of blues and jazz aficionados across the globe.
“Show me what you got,” he said grimly. He watched her as she gracefully came up into a surfing stance.
“I told you,” she said coldly over her left shoulder.
Jason spread his hand on the back of her thigh. “You know the actions, but you need to loosen up. You’re too tight. Relax.” He almost broke out in a huge smile when he slapped her thigh lightly. Her eyes widened in disbelief.
“Get your hand off me.”
“Give me a break, lady,” he muttered as he slid his hand down to her ankle, urging her to widen her stance an inch or two. “You saw me touching your friend as well. You need to relax more than just your body. Your attitude could use a Hawaiian adjustment as well.”
“Think I should just hang loose, dude?”
He paused with his hand on her firm calf and glanced up at her. Her face was livid with fury.
“You know, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you wear that particular expression on the front cover of a magazine. I guess that’s for the best, considering the publisher wants people to buy their magazine, not be repulsed by it.”
She clamped her jaw shut. He watched in fascination as her face smoothed into a beautiful mask of impassivity. He stroked her satiny skin ever so lightly, preferring her fury for some reason. Must be turning into a masochist in his old age. When she tensed even further, he knew she’d noticed his subtle groping. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Melanie approaching with a short board under her arm.
“Lana.” Her name lingered on his tongue. “That wouldn’t be short for ’Ailana now, would it?”
This was interesting, Jason thought when he saw her cheek muscle twitch. He rose slowly until he looked down at her, holding her gaze all the while.
“It means ‘loving’ in Hawaiian. Of course without the okina, the word ailana refers to raw, fuck-me-till-I’m-blind sexual intercourse,” he said softly, referring to the punctuation mark before the name. He saw the fury return to her expression and smiled insolently. “Ah—I see you already knew that, ’Ailana.”
“There isn’t a damn thing you can teach me that I don’t already know and wish I didn’t, Mr. Koa.”
He leaned closer, catching her fresh, floral fragrance combined with healthy, sweet sweat. Onaona, he thought, instinctively using his admittedly primitive knowledge of the Hawaiian language to describe her scent. She even smelled like the islands.
“I beg to differ.”
He saw her nostrils flare. His eyes fastened on her lush mouth.
“Is this board okay, Jason?” Melanie called out. He stepped back, glad for the interruption. He was only too happy to consider something else beside the fact that his cock had just stiffened to a lead pipe as he verbally sparred with a prima dona who clearly had some serious issues.
Not his problem.
So what if her personality was a far stretch from what he’d thought it would be given her low, sultry singing voice. Her voice, face, and body had thrilled many a male before him. He didn’t need to be a fan of the entertainment industry to know that most famous people were whacked. Why should it surprise him that Lana Rodriguez was no different?
Still, Jason acknowledged he was disappointed. Her voice and bluesy arrangements brought out the pensive, moody side of him— the side he rarely showed others, certainly not in his role as an athlete or as an extroverted businessman in the Hawaiian tourist industry. In truth, he’d always been a little haunted by her songs.
He suppressed a frown when he fully registered his thoughts and gave an easy grin instead.
“Yeah, that’s perfect, Melanie. Why don’t you go and pick a board, Lana, and we’ll catch a wave.”
“Bitchin’,” he heard Lana mutter scathingly under her breath before she walked away.
* * *
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Beth Kery lives in Chicago where she juggles the demands of her career, her love of the city and the arts, and a busy family life. Her writing today reflects her passion for all of the above. She is the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of Because You Are Mine. Find out more about Beth and her books at BethKery.com or Facebook.com/Beth.Kery.
When I’m With You
PART I: WHEN WE TOUCH
PART II: WHEN YOU DEFY ME
PART III: WHEN YOU TEASE ME
PART IV: WHEN I’M BAD
PART V: WHEN YOU SUBMIT
Because You Are Mine
PART I: BECAUSE YOU TEMPT ME
PART II: BECAUSE I COULD NOT RESIST
PART III: BECAUSE YOU HAUNT ME
PART IV: BECAUSE YOU MUST LEARN
PART V: BECAUSE I SAID SO
PART VI: BECAUSE YOU TORMENT ME
PART VII: BECAUSE I NEED TO
PART VIII: BECAUSE I AM YOURS
Berkley Sensation titles by Beth Kery
WICKED BURN
DARING TIME
Berkley Heat titles by Beth Kery
SWEET RESTRAINT
PARADISE RULES
RELEASE
EXPLOSIVE
One Night of Passion series
ADDICTED TO YOU (WRITING AS BETHANY KANE)
EXPOSED TO YOU
One Night of Passion Specials
BOUND TO YOU
CAPTURED BY YOU
Contents
Also by Beth Kery
Title Page
Copyright
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Special Excerpt from Exposed To You
About the Author
When I’m With You
PART I: WHEN WE TOUCH
PART II: WHEN YOU DEFY ME
PART III: WHEN YOU TEASE ME
PART IV: WHEN I’M BAD
PART V: WHEN YOU SUBMIT
PART VI: WHEN YOU TRUST ME
Because You Are Mine
PART I: BECAUSE YOU TEMPT ME
PART II: BECAUSE I COULD NOT RESIST
PART III: BECAUSE YOU HAUNT ME
PART IV: BECAUSE YOU MUST LEARN
PART V: BECAUSE I SAID SO
PART VI: BECAUSE YOU TORMENT ME
PART VII: BECAUSE I NEED TO
PART VIII: BECAUSE I AM YOURS
Berkley Sensation titles by Beth Kery
WICKED BURN
DARING TIME
Berkley Heat titles by Beth Kery
SWEET RESTRAINT
PARADISE RULES
RELEASE
EXPLOSIVE
One Night of Passion series
ADDICTED TO YOU (WRITING AS BETHANY KANE)
EXPOSED TO YOU
One Night of Passion Specials
BOUND TO YOU
CAPTURED BY YOU
When I’m With You
Part VI
When You Trust Me
Beth Kery
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WHEN YOU TRUST ME
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PUBLISHING HISTORY
InterMix eBook edition / April 2013
When I’m With You copyright © 2013 by Beth Kery.
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ISBN: 978-1-101-61663-5
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Chapter Eleven
Elise grimaced as she glanced at the bedside chest at midnight. Part of her regretted not opening that drawer this evening. Part of her longed to do a replay of the past two nights and experience such intense pleasure . . . such intense intimacy with Lucien. They hadn’t just had mutual climaxes for the past two nights; they’d made love while they were half a world apart. He really was magical, the way he could pull off the impossible. Part of her wished she could just ignore her irritation.
But she couldn’t.
She picked up her ringing cell phone.
“Bonjour,” she said crisply into the receiver.
There was a pause. “Bonsoir. Don’t we sound businesslike,” Lucien said, sounding amused and wary.
“I am in the mood for business. And not the business of the past two nights,” she said pointedly. It was technically a lie. She was in the mood for the business of gushing in pleasure and hearing Lucien’s voice go rough and sexy with lust as he instructed her and she did precisely what he commanded. But she had more crucial business at hand. “How was your day?”
“Productive,” he said. “Atale and I are still getting the books in order for the Three Kings. It’s tedious work.”
“I can imagine,” she said, compassion seeping into her awareness. No matter her annoyance at him, Lucien was going through a rough time right now. He sounded exhausted. “Don’t tell me you were up again all night?”
“I’ll catch some sleep this morning,” he said, the hitch in his voice making her think he’d just fallen into bed. A sharp longing went through her to be there with him, to feel his arms around her— She interrupted her own thoughts before she sabotaged herself.
“Francesca stopped by Fusion today. She asked you and me to come to dinner at Ian’s Monday night. Do you want to go?”
“I should be back in town by then. Yes, if you do.” There was a pause and Elise simmered in the silence. “You might as well get to it,” he said.
“Get to what?”
“Whatever you’re pissed about. I assume there’s something, because you clearly haven’t been following my instructions,” he said levelly.
“With good reason. Do you know what else Francesca asked me?” Elise demanded, launching into her attack. “If I would ask my father to design her wedding dress. Ian told her to ask me.”
“Okay,” Lucien said slowly. His cautious confusion at her anger only amplified her irritation.
“Why didn’t you tell me that Ian knew who I was?”
“Was it important to you that he didn’t know?”
“No,” she exclaimed heatedly. “It’s not important to me. I thought it was important to you to keep my family and background hushed up. I thought you were trying to keep people from asking questions about our past connection!”
Lucien sighed. “If it’s any consolation to know it, I never told Ian specifically about your family. He found out himself. He knows everything about people that are in his life, even in the peripheral sense. It’s not only a precaution; it’s in his nature to know as much as he can in any given situation. He’s not the most trusting type, Ian. I imagine he comes by his paranoia honestly.”
Elise’s mouth fell open. Her annoyance segued to outrage.
“By your logic, Ian Noble would know everything about you and your past, then.” The silence rung in her ears. She threw caution to the wind. “He would know all about your father’s prosecution and imprisonment.”
“He does know all about it. I confided in him after my father’s arrest. He supported me during the trial, just by listening. I never told you anything different,” he added when she remained silent in disbelief.
“That’s because you never said anything to me period. Besides, you’ve told me from the beginning you didn’t want me screwing up and spilling the beans about your father and your identity.”
“I never said that about my father. You just assumed it.”
Hurt swamped her at his cool response. Her throat grew tight. For a few seconds, she couldn’t speak. Lucien made a sound of frustration.
“When you stormed into Fusion that day pretending to be my chef, and Ian walked in on us, I just thought it would be easiest and cleanest to say that we didn’t know each other. I couldn’t make things too complicated, given the situation.”
“You couldn’t make your lie too complicated. Isn’t that what you mean?” she seethed.
“If you prefer to put it that way. Yes.”
“Did you know that Ian and Francesca realize that we’re lovers?”
“I suspected they did, ever since the party at the penthouse.”
“And you didn’t think it was important to tell me? No, no one can tell Elise anything,” she shouted into the phone. “She’s too much of a loose cannon. Just leave her in the dark and let her stumble around like a fool. That’s the best way to deal with a wild child.”
“I don’t think you’re a loose cannon,” he said in a tight voice.
“That’s precisely what you think. You even told me you needed to keep an eye on me . . . keep me in line—isn’t that what you said?”
“Elise—”
“Here’s a crazy idea,” Elise interrupted, her voice going high. “Why not just tell me why you’re being so crazy about Ian Noble, and then you won’t have to worry about me unintentionally setting off an explosion?”
“I can’t do that.”
“Why not? Because you don’t trust me enough to tell me.” She answered her own question, her hurt turning to a burn in her chest. “You still think I’ll impulsively say something wrong . . . or worse, try to blackmail you with the knowledge.”
“I don’t really think you’d try to blackmail me,” he said, frustration in his tone.
“You said you did before.”
“What if I did?” he said abruptly. “You were thinking about how you could use something against me to get what you wanted. I could see it in your eyes, that day in my office. Do you deny it?”
She opened her mouth to do just that but bit her lip, halting her lie at the last second.
“I didn’t think so,” he said after a charged pause. “That doesn’t mean I truly believe you’d do something underhanded to intentionally hurt me.”
That admission let the pressure in her chest and throat remit enough to allow her t
o take a painful inhale, but she was still furious. And confused.
“I wasn’t worried that you would intentionally undermine me, Elise,” Lucien repeated, suddenly sounding weary. “I just thought it’d be easier all around if you could be quiet about our past. I realized that I wasn’t giving you enough guidance and information on that. That’s why I said I wanted to keep an eye on you. It wasn’t because I don’t trust you.”
The silence seemed to swell in her ears and in her throat.
“If you believe that, then why don’t you just tell me the truth? Tell me what’s haunting you, Lucien.”
Inexplicably, tears swelled in her eyes. She realized her reaction was because on some deep level, she recognized the truth of her words. He’d been behaving so inexplicably since he left Paris. Something was haunting Lucien, plaguing him. His secret was eating him alive from the inside out. Of course it was. Why hadn’t she understood that before?
“I can’t,” he replied quietly. “It’s not my secret to tell. Not entirely, anyway.”
“You don’t trust me,” she whispered, hurt strangling her voice . . . and panic, as well, that he wouldn’t let her in far enough to help him.
“That’s not it,” he said edgily. “Look, we’ll talk about it more when I get home.”
“When will that be?” she asked dully after a moment.
“I’m not sure. The day after tomorrow, most likely. Elise?” he prompted when she didn’t speak.
“Yes?”
“I’m sorry for leading you to believe that it was my father’s crimes that I was trying to keep from Ian. It was just more . . .”
“Convenient to keep me quiet that way?” she asked when he faded off. It felt like there was a handful of marbles in her throat. “You knew how much I care about you. You knew that if I believed you were feeling vulnerable about Adrien’s incarceration for corporate espionage that I would keep quiet in order to protect you. You used my feelings for you against me to gain my compliance.”
