“You are the world’s most delicious dessert,” he said, his mouth moving against her temple before he kissed her.
She considered pointing out that he hadn’t actually tasted her but decided that might be interpreted as a challenge. Right now she needed time to come down from the intensity of their joining. “I’d put you right up there with chocolate soufflé slathered with fresh whipped cream,” she said instead.
“Now you’ve given me an idea.” He nuzzled her temple again.
“Not an original one.”
He laughed and settled back against the seat.
“Where do you live?” she asked, too lazy to look out the window to see where they were going.
“East Sixty-Ninth Street. Off Fifth Avenue.”
“Exactly where you’d expect a billionaire to live. A penthouse?”
“Just a house.”
She laughed. “In Manhattan, that’s even more amazing than a penthouse. Do you have a garden? That’s what I miss most about living here, having my own bit of the outdoors. One of my favorite things about the Carver Center is the empty lot next door that they recently bought. It’s been turned into a garden–slash–doggy playground. The kids adore it.”
“Then I shall take you to the garden first thing.” He was quiet a moment. “I think that’s one reason I bought the house. After growing up on the farm, I needed the outdoors, too.”
“Well, your penthouse could have had a terrace with planters full of trees and flowers.”
“Not the same. I need to feel the earth under my feet.”
“All I need is sunlight on my face. Sometimes I sit on my fire escape but it’s not very comfortable.”
A few more minutes and the limousine pulled over to the curb.
“Um, may I have my undies back before I get out of the car?” Kyra asked.
He drew the little bundle of lace out of his pocket and let it dangle from his fingertips. “Only because I will enjoy removing them again later.”
Chapter 9
Kyra stood on the sidewalk, gaping at his house. “I know what else appealed to you about this place,” she said. “It’s the antithesis of Arion Farm.”
He looked at his home as though he’d never seen it before. “I thought it was just a bold statement.”
“Exactly. A bold statement that you are totally different from your parents.”
The house stood in a row of beaux arts townhomes with ornately embellished facades. His, however, was starkly modern, an outlier of straight, clean lines with no decoration other than its elegant proportions, glowing windows, and the surface that was flecked with some material that picked up glints of light from the streetlamps.
“It’s beautiful in a totally different way,” she said. “What is the glittery stuff?”
“Quartz. The facade is terrazzo, concrete embedded with chips of marble and quartz and then polished smooth.”
“Did you design it?”
“No, I bought it from a venture capitalist who moved to his own private island near Tenerife. He said the weather is perfect there all year round.” He led her up the steps to the front door, a smooth slab of some warm, golden wood, which clicked open at a wave of his free hand.
“That’s nifty,” she said. “Like a magic wand.”
“My very smart watch,” he said, shaking back his cuff to show a simple stainless steel band.
“So you can just walk in your own front door with no worries. I thought rich people needed all kinds of security.” Then she forgot about her question as they stepped into an entry space that glowed with light and a sense of soaring height because it was open all the way up to the ceiling of the second floor. A wood-and-glass staircase slashed up through the space in two bold flights, while a chandelier of crystal starbursts cascaded down from far above.
“Wow!” she said in a near whisper.
“You asked about security. I won’t go into the details, but you are quite safe here, I promise.”
She dragged her gaze away from his house and huffed out a laugh. “No one would bother to kidnap me. It was you I was worried about.”
Something flickered across his face, a softening. “Very few people worry about me.”
“Because you’re rich? That doesn’t make you any less human.”
“Maybe it’s because you knew me when I wasn’t rich. Or less rich,” he added with a wry smile. “Just a fellow student.”
He had never been “just” anything to her. But she wasn’t sharing that. He already had a dangerous hold on her feelings.
“Well, I’m pretty sure if a kidnapper shot you, you would bleed like the rest of us.”
“You’re right. Money can buy protection but not invulnerability.” He shook his head. “Sometimes I forget that. And then I’m surprised when I feel pain.”
He wasn’t talking about physical pain now. She reached up to lay her hand against his cheek. “If you didn’t, I would worry even more about you.”
He lifted his hand to cover hers and stood like that for a moment, leaning his head lightly against her touch. Then he closed his fingers around hers and guided her past the staircase, through a hall with rooms opening off it on either side, and into an inviting living room, paneled in a pale blond wood on three walls while the fourth was all glass. In the light spilling out from it, she could see a patio that glittered like the house’s facade, dotted with boxy modern wicker furniture with deep cushions, a fire pit, and what looked like a wall of copper with water streaming down it in sheets. Tree branches flickered in and out of the light as the breeze moved them, their shadows waltzing over the patio.
“My garden,” Will said, heading for a sliding door.
As they passed through it, subtle lights glimmered to life around the patio, under the trees, within the fountain, and along paths winding through planted beds. “Fairyland,” Kyra breathed, knowing her eyes were wide with the wonder of it.
“I seem to dwell in theme parks.” Will’s tone was amused.
“What?” She looked up to find him gazing down at her, the lights painting intriguing shadows over the angles of his face.
“You said Arion Farm was Disney World, and now we’re in Fairyland.”
“You’re lucky to always be surrounded by beauty,” she said. “Brunell was beautiful, too. Macungie, not so much.”
“You never talked about it. Macungie.”
She shrugged. “I wanted to leave it behind me when I was at college. I could become someone else. Actually, I felt like I was more truly myself at Brunell than at home. I didn’t have to hide my brains because everyone at college was smart. I didn’t have to hide my aspirations because everyone aspired, generally much higher than I did. I felt like I could unfurl myself there.”
“‘Unfurl yourself.’ That’s a good way of describing it. I thought of it more as throwing off the shackles but we both experienced a sense of freedom.”
“I guess you can never go back.” Kyra knew she sounded wistful. “It wouldn’t be the same now. We’re older and so much more experienced. The world no longer offers endless possibilities like it did then.”
“Christ, we’re not that old,” Will said.
“Sometimes I feel ancient.”
He took her shoulders and gave her the tiniest shake. “You have too much to offer the world to give up already.”
She shook her head. “There’s a lot you don’t know.”
“So tell me.”
“My stories don’t belong in Fairyland,” she said. “There’s no magic in them. Not even black magic.”
“Kyra.” His grip on her turned into a caress, his palms warm as they stroked up and down her bare upper arms. “You are magic, an enchantress.”
“Back to Circe again, are we?”
“You see, that’s what enchants me about you. Or one of the many things.” He ran his hands up to frame her face as he bent to touch her lips with his. “This is another,” he whispered against her mouth.
She was happy to avoid talking abou
t her dingy home in industrial Pennsylvania, especially if the alternative was being kissed by Will. She threaded her hands through his hair at the nape of his neck, feeling the silky waves curling around her fingers. She rubbed her thumbs against the skin just above his collar, loving the soft, vulnerable texture as it curved over his muscles. She leaned into him, loving the pressure of him against her breasts, the contrast of hard and soft sparking little thrills that raced through her.
Then he was pulling her back into his house, striding into the hallway to a sliding wooden panel that revealed an elevator, the inside of which was embellished with the same wood. “My bedroom is on the fourth floor,” he said, gesturing for her to precede him.
“Have you ever done it in the elevator?” Kyra asked with a grin as the car lifted upward.
“I’ll take the Fifth on that,” he said. And then the door was sliding open again.
“You’d have to be quick,” she said, stepping onto the velvety carpeting of another hallway.
“There’s always the emergency stop button. But I have something different in mind.” He took her hand and led her into an enormous bedroom done in soft taupes and creams with rich, glossy brown wood furniture and trim. On one wall, flames flickered in a rectangular fireplace set in a surround of polished chocolate-colored granite. A king-size bed, covered in taupe linens so wrinkle free they looked almost military, backed up against a wall padded in a soft, slubby fabric. The bed faced a wall of glass that looked out onto a softly lit terrace.
“You keep a fire going all the time?” Kyra asked, although she loved the sense of cozy warmth it brought into the room.
“No, my watch told it I was coming, so it turned itself on.”
“Can your watch turn down the bed?”
“I prefer to do that myself. Let me show you.” He took her wrist and walked backward toward the bed, his thumb circling warm and firm in the center of her palm while his eyes picked up little gleams from the fire.
She went willingly, his touch on her palm setting up an echo between her legs. When they made it to the bed, he reached down with his free hand and ripped the coverlet and top sheet to nearly the foot. A wide expanse of cream linen invited her to hurl herself onto it.
“Turn around,” he said. She did and felt his fingers at the zipper of her dress. It sang downward, and air brushed against her back. When he drew a line down her spine with his fingertip, she gasped and arched. He slipped his hands under the shoulders of her dress and eased it down over her arms and her hips where she gave a quick shimmy so it dropped to her feet.
His lips were on the side of her neck, and his hands were on her hips, pulling her bottom against him so she could feel the ridge of his erection. Then his hand was gliding over her stomach and underneath the front of her panties. He slipped between her thighs and slid a finger into the wet center of her. “Ahh,” he said, his breath moist against her skin while he stroked in and out of her. That sent more heat and liquid around his questing finger, and she began to flex her hips in rhythm with him, making his erection swell harder.
She reached behind her, pushing her hand between them to massage his cock.
“Kyra,” he breathed beside her ear and inserted a second finger inside her. The extra stretch and pressure made her moan in ecstasy and pushed her yearning higher.
“Not yet,” he said, withdrawing his fingers and leaving her empty and wanting.
She let her head fall back against his shoulder. “It had better be soon.”
He turned her in his arms, a feral smile baring his teeth. “Undress me like you did on the sailboat.”
“Yes, sir.” She yanked the knot out of his tie and ripped it out from under his collar. Then she jerked his jacket off his shoulders and down his arms before working loose the buttons of his shirt. The fabrics he wore were so rich and soft under her fingers that she wanted to caress them, but she needed him moving inside her more. She stripped him with swift, efficient movements until he stood naked, his skin glowing in the firelight.
“Now to finish the job I started,” he said, unhooking her bra and dropping it on the floor. He cupped her breasts for a brief moment, his thumbs brushing over her hardened nipples before he stepped away. “You do your panties. I want to see what you looked like when you took them off in the ladies’ room.”
“I had more clothes on then,” she said, but she watched his face grow taut as she deliberately worked the black lace down her hips and thighs with slow swaying movements. His gaze fastened between her legs as she let her panties fall to her ankles and stepped out of them.
Before she could react, he seized her by the waist and flipped her onto the bed, coming down beside her.
As Kyra caught her breath, Will rolled onto his back, bringing her over on top of him. “I want to watch you,” he said.
She pushed herself up from his chest. “Watch me?”
“Above me,” he said. He wrapped his fingers around her hips and shifted her onto his thighs. He reached up to pull out a drawer built into the bed’s headboard—his motion giving her a quick thrill as his thighs flexed against her—and retrieved a condom. “Kneel over me,” he said, rolling the condom on with brisk efficiency.
Excitement and molten desire coursed through her. She rose onto her knees and scooted forward so she was poised over the jut of his cock. Reaching between her legs, she guided the tip of him inside her before she slowly folded down at her knees, taking him in little by little so she could feel herself stretch around him in slow motion. His eyes were half closed, his head angled back so the tendons of his neck stood out. His fingers dug into her thighs as he told her how good it was to feel her around him.
When her thighs touched the sculpted muscles of his groin and she thought she could go no lower, he grasped her hips again, working himself in even farther. Then he ran his hands up her torso to cup her breasts, thumbing her nipples to send bolts of electricity down to where their bodies were joined. His eyes followed his hands and then lifted to her face with fierce concentration. She gasped and bowed back, her eyes closed, shutting out the intensity of his gaze as sensation buffeted her in a sensual storm.
He teased her breasts, pulling, stroking, circling, until she was mindless with pleasure, the heat pulsing in her core where he impaled her. “Please, Will.” She ground herself against the springy hair at the base of his cock.
He drew a line down her center with one finger until he reached her clit. Before he touched her there, he slipped his finger up inside her beside his cock, the extra stretch making her buck against him.
“Just getting it slick for you,” he said, the moisture allowing his finger to glide over the bundle of sensitized nerve endings.
Somehow he knew exactly how to touch her. She lifted onto the crest of the wave, hanging there in exquisite balance until her orgasm crashed through her, pulling her body so taut that she braced her hands on Will’s thighs and screamed with pleasure.
Through the convulsions of her muscles around him, Will remained still, his finger driving her up to another climax before she collapsed forward on top of his chest. Her breath came in gasps, her heart seemed determined to pound itself out of her chest, her muscles sagged in the afterglow of release.
Yet his stiff cock was still embedded in the softness inside her, the contrast sending a shivery thrill dancing through her.
His fingers played in her hair. “You looked like you were going to take flight.” His voice was tight and hoarse. “But I was inside you, anchoring you to the earth. Watching you and feeling you at the same time was so intense.”
“Yes.” She couldn’t formulate more of an answer. “Intense.”
He cupped her shoulders and rolled to lie on top of her, her thighs spread on either side of his hips. He stared down at her so she felt his gaze as heat on her skin. “I won’t move until you’re ready,” he said.
But she was ready, his words stoking the embers back to flames. “Now,” she said, squeezing her inner muscles. “Do it now.”
>
He dropped his forehead to her shoulder. “Are you sure?”
“I’ve never been this sure of anything.”
A shudder ran through his body and he reared up to brace himself above her on his forearms. His hips flexed as he withdrew almost entirely from her and then slowly reentered her.
“Again,” she demanded. She stretched her hands over her head and opened her thighs wider, offering herself completely.
A long moan tore from his throat, and he began a steady but relentless rhythm of thrusts and withdrawals. Their gazes were locked together, so she could see the strain in his face and neck as he fought against his climax. “No!” he shouted as his eyelids slammed shut and he stopped abruptly. Then a groan racked his body and he drove deep into her before she felt the first pulse of his release, and he shouted her name over and over again while his cock pumped.
His weight came down on her. She reveled in being crushed into the mattress under him until finally she needed to breathe. “Will,” she gasped.
He made an incoherent sound.
“My lungs are collapsing,” she said with a wispy laugh.
A grunt and then his weight shifted sideways and he flopped onto his back, his free arm flung out beside him. “‘Nothing is left of me each time I see her.’”
“Is that a quote?” Kyra didn’t recognize it but something about the way he said it tipped her off.
“Catullus. He must have known you in an earlier life.” Will swiveled his head toward her, his eyelids heavy and a smile curling the corners of his lips. “It goes on: ‘tongue numbed; arms, legs melting, on fire; drum drumming in ears; head lights gone black.’ That’s pretty much how I feel right now. In a good way.”
“I definitely feel melted,” she said, her insides still thrumming with satisfaction. She stretched luxuriously, relishing the silky feel of the fine cotton sheets and the brush of Will’s skin against hers.
“God, you’re beautiful.” His voice was rough with desire still.
But she wasn’t. He was besotted with her . . . for the moment. She was a novelty, a memory from a different time of his life. She shouldn’t fool herself into believing it was anything more than that.
Second Time Around Page 14
