As they took the elevator to the top floor restaurant, Caroline stared out of the glass capsule. Wren stayed silent next to her, though the tension between them snapped like electricity. His hands were shoved into his jacket pockets and he looked far from relaxed.
“What’s the matter?”
Caroline jumped at the unexpected question. “I have a headache.”
He didn’t reply but she could feel his stare on her. She didn’t look at him. When the elevator doors opened, she hurried out, walking in front of him toward the restaurant’s maître d'. They were shown to a table immediately, next to a glass window that overlooked the East River. The bright lights of the city gave it a warmth and charm missing in the daylight hours. But the magic was lost on Caroline as she sat stiffly in her chair.
“Is it really just a headache?” he commented once the maître d' had left.
She looked at him finally and her heart ached at how handsome he appeared in the romantic candlelight that flooded around them.
“I saw you with a redheaded woman earlier,” she said, ignoring the question. “In fact, I saw you with her yesterday as well.”
He didn’t acknowledge the statement, but she saw his jaw tighten.
“Who is she?” Caroline asked.
“She’s nobody,” he answered.
“Really? It seemed as if you knew her.”
Wren’s eyes narrowed. “I know her. But like I said, she’s nobody.”
Caroline bit her lip and wondered why she felt the need to voice the jealousy clawing in her chest. “Your nobody approached me in the ladies’ room. Said you two had been engaged.”
“She’s right. Once upon a time, we were.”
“But no more?”
“Not for a long while.”
“I see.” Caroline’s mind raced, not wanting to believe the redhead but finding Wren’s words disturbing. She was half afraid to ask the next question. “Why is she here, then, in this hotel? Hundreds of hotels in Manhattan and she picks this one?”
“Caroline, you haven’t told me anything about your past relationship … why should I tell you about mine?” He replied in a rather bland voice and bridged his fingers to rest his chin on them as he stared at her.
She stared at him, trying to read the neutral expression on his face, but finding the wall he had thrown up impenetrable. Doubts tumbled through her mind, feelings she knew very well from her marriage to Greg. And she hated herself for remembering the shame that he had heaped on her, the pain and anger. Was Wren the same type of man?
Caroline scooted her chair back and stood. “Excuse me,” she mumbled as she hurried from the table toward the ladies’ room, her bag clutched tightly in her fingers.
In front of the bathroom mirror she looked at herself. Her forehead crinkled with a frown. Did the redhead still love him and this was the only time, when he was back in New York for the meeting, that she could see him? Was Caroline’s presence interfering with the redhead’s ability to be with him?
The thought was enough to make her almost gag.
Settling her shoulders squarely, she left the ladies’ room and walked back to the table. Wren stood up as she approached, but she held out a hand.
“I can’t do this,” Caroline told him softly.
“Can’t do what?”
“I can’t be the other woman, Wren.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
He sounded so innocent, so perplexed. Her free hand curled into a fist, the nails biting deep. The pain kept the tears at bay.
“Is this about Leslie?” he demanded in a low voice.
“Is that her name? The redhead?”
“Sit down, Caroline.”
She shook her head. “I can’t. I don’t know your relationship with her, but even if she’s your ex-fiancée it’s clear she still loves you. I can’t do that to someone.”
Wren grabbed her arm. “I can assure you that Leslie does not love me. And I don’t love her. Stop trying to find an excuse to run away!”
Caroline broke his grip and took a step back. By this time people seated around them started to stare. “I have to go,” she muttered, turning and exiting through the densely packed tables.
He didn’t follow her. Once out of the romantically lit restaurant, restless energy filled her, so she headed down to the hotel’s piano bar. Melancholy music greeted her, welcoming her. She sat down at a table, the haunting strains of the piano surrounding her like a friend. A waitress came by and Caroline ordered a rum and coke, something bitter yet sweet to match her mood.
When she had found out about Greg’s affair, the memory of him denying it played over and over in her head like a mantra. Caroline remembered she had gotten up and started pacing. It was almost cosmic fate that the phone had rung at that moment and she answered it almost savagely.
“Caroline?” Greg had asked.
“I just had dinner with Winnie,” she told him.
“Really? How’s she doing?”
“She told me she met your girlfriend,” Caroline had answered in a clipped tone. “She told me when.”
He fell silent for a moment. “Oh,” was all he said.
Suddenly the dam broke and it became impossible to keep emotions at bay. “You lied to me! I asked you to your face and you fucking lied to me!”
“I guess you don’t want to talk to me right now.”
“I don’t ever want to talk to you again!” she screamed at him before slamming the phone down.
After Winnie had left that night, Caroline had sat at the table, the anger building with every breath she took. She had wanted to cry, but hadn’t let the tears fall to release the burning depression deep within. So she turned the sadness inward and pushed the anger even higher. His total lack of respect for her was the ultimate betrayal.
Were all men the same?
She had vowed to herself that she would never be vulnerable again, so why did her juices run every time she thought of Wren? Why did her heart pound when he stepped into her line of vision? Why did her breath hitch when his beautiful eyes turned her way?
And then, as if her mind had conjured him up, he was there. Wren pulled up a chair on the other side of the table and sat down, quietly waiting for her to acknowledge him.
The music turned sultry, romantic, and with a jolt Caroline recognized it as Moonlight Serenade.
How appropriate.
“I had invited a friend over for dinner, a mutual friend of mine and Greg’s, because I was rather lonely in the house without him,” she said, her voice soft with the memories. “After I brought out the baked chicken, I asked this friend, Winnie, if she’d met Greg’s new girlfriend. We had been broken up just over a month before when Greg had personally told me about this new woman he started dating.” Caroline folded her hands together. “But then Winnie proceeded to tell me how they, Greg and his new girlfriend that is, had brought soup when Winnie had been sick.” She licked her dry lips. “A lovely bisque of roasted tomatoes and shrimp, she described. Of course, after I pointed out that Greg and I had broken up at the end of August and she had been sick at the beginning of the month, did she realize the mistake she had made by telling the secret she was keeping for Greg. He had been seeing this other woman for quite some time. I had always suspected,” Caroline shrugged. “She apologized, of course. Stated since we were both her friends she didn’t want to be caught in the middle, which she was, of course. So I asked her to leave and I’ve never talked to her again.”
“I’m sorry,” Wren said softly, reaching for her hands. He separated them and then intertwined their fingers.
“I had been angry for so long,” she said quietly. “Angry at him, angry at myself for ignoring my gut feeling. I can’t do that to another woman, Wren.”
“There is no other woman,” he said in a firm tone.
“Leslie told me you cheated on her. And I just can’t…”
“Was this before or after I caught her in bed with another man?”
Caroli
ne fell silent. Her eyes widened as the air left her lungs in a whoosh.
“I hadn’t been very happy after Leslie and I became engaged. I had this feeling of dread every time she mentioned the wedding. So I decided to end it. I walked into our condo and there she was, in our bed, with the man I thought had been a friend.”
“Seems like we’ve both made terrible choices in friends.”
“And in life partners,” Wren conceded. “It was the only time I have ever been engaged.”
“Did you love her?”
“No,” he sighed and shook his head. “At the time I thought we both wanted the same things, but now, as I stand back and look closely at the relationship, I can see the flaws and the cracks. I discovered basing a marriage upon mutual goals and ideas doesn’t make a couple happy.”
“That’s funny,” she said. “I’ve discovered that love doesn’t necessarily make a couple happy.”
Wren reached with his free hand, using the pad of his thumb to ease the crease between her eyes. “You frown a lot,” he murmured.
Immediately, she relaxed those muscles and pulled her head away. “I guess I’d better stop or I’ll get wrinkles.”
“You’ll still be beautiful with wrinkles,” he assured.
“Wren…”
“Caroline, listen to me. I’m sorry for what your husband did to you, but I’m not him. Don’t use me as your excuse to hide from yourself. Our weekend doesn’t have to end like that.”
The word ‘end’ was like ice water in her veins, shocking her back into reality.
“I leave tomorrow,” she murmured, more for her own benefit than his, but he still responded.
“Yeah, I know,” he said quietly.
“I should be able to say fuck it, right? This is just a weekend fling, after all.”
“It’s not just a fling, Caroline.”
“I know.” She bit her lip. The words “I don’t want this to end” echoed in her mind. She longed to say them.
But she didn’t.
He took her hand and led her from the piano bar. They didn’t say a word as they made their way back to his room. Once inside, he kissed her almost savagely, as if he couldn’t get enough of her. As if he wanted to devour her. His tongue swept in, meeting hers, dominating. He roamed his hands over her body, bringing it alive, sensitizing each nerve to a sizzle. The delicate material of her dress ripped as he hurried to bring her skin into contact with him. The buttons on his shirt flew as he tore it off his body.
Caroline became as frantic as he, helping him, not even minding that her dress turned into a puddle of disregarded silk. She pulled on his shoulders, nipped the skin on his neck. Licked each nipple until he turned the tables and threw her down upon the bed.
Wren pulled her hands over her head and then used one hand to hold them in place. Up and down his lips trailed her skin, taking each nipple with his teeth, biting just hard enough to elicit a gasp then sucking until she arched in pleasure. He repeated the same on the other nipple, back and forth until her head thrashed and her pelvis thrust upward to either throw him off or invite him closer.
While he played with her breasts, his other hand ran down her body to find her clit. He teased the small bundle of nerves while a finger found the entrance of her pussy, dipping in to tease the inside.
“Please,” she moaned.
Then he moved his fingers, dripping with her juices, to the tight opening of her anus. Caroline stiffened.
“Wren…”
“Do you trust me, Caroline?” He growled the question, gazing deep into her eyes.
Did she?
All the times he had asked her that question a part of her had hesitated. But as she stared into his eyes, she saw a glimpse of the same fears that troubled her reflecting back and she realized that for all his self-confidence, he was just as wary as she about giving into the emotion that arched between them. And then the answer came to her, simple and straightforward, and she finally understood why she had always hesitated before.
“Yes.”
If possible, the lust in his eyes darkened even more. He gently eased into her back hole, massaging and working the sphincter until she relaxed enough for him to push a third finger in.
“You’re so fucking tight, Caroline,” he groaned into her ear. “I want you in every way possible.”
Caroline felt her body swelter at his words. The splendid euphoria that had gripped her now evaporated as she tensed at the intrusion to her ass. No one had ever taken her there before, and she wasn’t quite sure what to feel about it now. She forced herself to relax, because he wanted this, and truth be told, it was something she could give him. A different part of her sexuality, one she had never thought to explore before, excited her now.
Then he withdrew from her body to flip her, and she tensed once more. He settled his lips on the back of her neck and started to kiss down her back. All the way down, until he reached her lower back. His hands pulled her onto her knees, keeping her head down.
He separated each cheek, but before embarrassment could engulf her, she felt his mouth on her asshole. The first lick made her squirm. The second lick felt like a tickle. But on the third, his fingers found her clit just as his tongue darted in. The double penetration sensation nearly made her fall apart. His fingers matched his tongue, both finding a rhythm that pitched her higher and higher until she cried out.
He withdrew and she heard the rustle of a condom wrapper before his rock hard cock pressed against her tender anus. She held her breath and waited.
“Relax,” he whispered. “I’m going to make sure I don’t hurt you.”
He pushed in a little at a time, taking his time as he sank past the tight ring and then further into her ass, until he had sheathed himself all the way. He took a moment, hunched over her back, to take in deep breaths as a shudder wracked his body.
Caroline moved a bit, discovering that far from feeling uncomfortable, she actually felt full in a completely different way than traditional sex provided. He moved, began to pump in and out, bringing his huge cock almost all the way out of her ass before shoving back in. She grunted with each thrust and his thumb found her clit again, rubbing it in time with his thrusts.
“Oh!” She moaned.
“Am I hurting you?” He paused as he waited for her reply.
“No, please!” She begged and wiggled her ass. “Keep going, please!”
She pushed back against him, the pain lessening with every thrust. It never fully went away, but it gradually subsided to a burning that actually intensified the clitoral stimulation. He traveled a hand up her back, fingers splayed across her spine as he pushed her further down on the bed. Her back arched as her ass went higher in the air. He left her clit, instead grabbing her hips and giving her a moment to adjust to the new submissive posture before notching up the pounding into her ass. She curled her fingers into the bed’s blankets as her forehead dropped down, submitting.
She panted, arching back into him as much as he leaned into her. He pulled her back hard onto his cock, using his hands to manipulate her movement. Each thrust slammed deep, his balls banging out a staccato rhythm against her clit. Deeper and deeper he went, harder and harder she took it, loving the way he was losing control.
“Rub your clit,” he grated in her ear. “Make yourself come, because I’m not going to last.”
She obliged, reaching between her thighs to touch herself. It didn’t take long for her own pleasure to spike.
“Go,” she moaned. “Go, go, go!”
He gave a harsh groan and erupted. The sensation of his cock swelling inside her, along with her own stimulation, made her lose control. She shuddered as her climax hit, and a loud buzz roared through her ears. Euphoria strung her tight, balancing on the high wire, until the onslaught drained her of energy. Wren collapsed on top of her, both their bodies crashing to the bed below.
****
Later that night, they lay curled up spooning under the covers. The curtains to the window were wide open
, allowing the glow from Times Square to illuminate the room with a pale lambency. Caroline knew Wren lay awake behind her. He lightly traced an indistinguishable pattern on top of her arm.
“What are you doing today?”
Caroline glanced at the red digits on the clock, taking note that it reported a quarter past midnight.
“Aldy and I are going to a matinee,” she told him.
“Already bought your tickets?”
“Yes.”
“You leave today.”
“Yes,” she answered, though technically he hadn’t asked a question.
“What holds you in Baton Rouge?”
“What do you mean?”
“What’s your life like?”
“Oh,” she said, pausing as she thought of her reply. “I grew up there, so it’s comfortable. My parents still live there. I’ve got friends. Not Aldy, of course, but people that I can rely on. Have fun with. I like my job. Why?”
“Just trying to get a mental picture of you,” he told her. “I’ve noticed you don’t like talking about yourself.”
“No, I don’t.” She sighed. “You asked, ‘who is Caroline’ … and I couldn’t answer, because I’ve made some dumb choices and talking about those choices hurts.”
“Have you found an answer yet?”
“Truthfully, I don’t know how to answer it,” she admitted.
His arms tightened around her. “I hope you don’t consider me a bad choice.”
She patted his arm reassuringly. “Never. I think you may just be the best one I ever made, although I’m not sure if I’m ready to jump back into the dating pool again. At least, not quite yet. But I suppose it’s good that I’m thinking about it.”
He was quiet for a moment. “Good night, Caroline.”
“Good night, Wren.”
Feeling safe and secure, Caroline gave in to sleep.
Chapter Twelve
Caroline gazed out from her hotel window, staring blindly at the skyscrapers around. She sat curled up in the comfy chair, with a blanket wrapped around her. She had watched dawn give way to sunlight, and the bustle of the city come alive with tourists below.
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