“You’re welcome. C’mon now,” he nudged her to follow him. “I have something else to show you.”
Miles led her away from view of the cityscape and along a corridor that flowed through the spacious penthouse. Maribel suddenly stopped in her tracks, eyeing the aquamarine glow of the sixty-gallon saltwater fish tank.
“Sharks?” she asked, incredulous.
“Only small ones,” he smiled.
“To keep you company?”
He laughed and relaxed his grasp on her hand. “Something like that.”
Together, they drifted through a private hallway and towards the dark seclusion of the master bedroom. Miles considered the fact that he hadn’t slept there since Friday, and now, he had vowed not to sleep there again without her. He watched as Maribel’s eyes settled on his master, wrapped in white, untouched sheets and suspended on a platform like a floating iceberg. It dominated the space. Miles turned back into the hallway and whisked open a door. Maribel peeked inside, but she could see nothing but shadows.
“Lights,” Miles directed into the air.
The lights suddenly flicked on, revealing the enormous walk-in closet with rows and rows of freshly-pressed clothes from the department store—women’s blouses, sweaters, jeans, skirts, and dress pants. Below them, organized along gold-toned racks were dozens of shoes in every shape and color—high heels, flats, leather boots, fashionable sneakers. There was even a pair of white and pink bunny slippers. Miles watched as Maribel gazed upon them.
“They didn’t have ladybug ones,” he quipped. “I asked.”
Then, he nodded over her shoulder. There, displayed on a solitary hanger, were the white rosebud pajamas that Maribel had picked out with Thomas.
“I thought you might want something more comfortable. It can get cold here at night, even with the warmth of another person next to you.”
Maribel stared at the clothes in silence. Miles watched her, preparing for her protest. He knew that she would claim that it was all too much—that he had done too much for her, and that she only needed her own clothes in her own apartment. It was true. And that’s what he loved about her. That’s all she needed. But that wasn’t all he wanted to give to her.
But Maribel did not protest. Instead, she slowly reached out to touch the lilac cashmere sleeve of one of the designer sweaters.
“I’ve always wanted this sweater,” she confessed softly. “Every pay check, for the past two pay checks, I thought about buying it for myself… ” her voice trailed off as she realized that Miles had bought it for her in three different colors.
“Well then, let’s try it on you,” he encouraged, touching Maribel’s waist and feeling her consent. He removed the lilac sweater from the rack and unfastened its three shoulder buttons, enameled with mother-of-pearl, tugging it off its hanger. Together, they peeled off Maribel’s drab gray cotton top. She did not resist when he unhooked the clasp of her black bra with a whispering kiss along her shoulder. It dropped to the floor. He slipped the sweater over her bare torso like he was dressing a queen. Brushing aside her long black hair, he refastened the buttons of its rounded neckline. The soft natural fabric clung to her full breasts and tapered her waist. He touched his nose against her collarbone, like he expected to smell the scent of flowers. Then, he rotated her towards the full-length mirror and admired her reflection.
“You are so gorgeous,” he whispered. “But there’s more…”
He turned to a lingerie chest, nestled in the corner, and pulled open its top door. They both saw the red corset and garter thong from earlier that day. He brushed past it and fished out a pair of white silk panties, trimmed with lace.
“I want you to be comfortable,” he whispered.
He moved behind her, cautiously unzipping her pencil skirt. She did not resist when he towed it down over her black nylons and removed her flats. He rose again and peered at her in the mirror. She was so beautiful, so genuine, so sacred and sexy. He outlined the full shape of her legs, glazed by her stockings, before peeling them below her backside and thighs. He wanted to liberate her completely from her old clothes and her old expectations of who she was when she was with him. Now, she stood before him—wearing only the lilac sweater and her usual black panties. He lowered himself to his knees and peered up at her. He wanted her approval. She placed her hands on his shoulders and allowed him to remove her black underwear, one leg at a time, before redressing her with her new ones. With a worshiping stroke of his palm, he smoothed the white silk fabric over her curvy backside.
Miles paused and rested his forehead against her thighs—her warm supple thighs—and indulged in the sensation of her fingernails, circling the nape of his neck.
“Miles, you’ve done so much for me—the jewelry, the clothes, all this attention—and it’s not that I’m not grateful, but it’s so much, so fast.”
He waited. He knew she was expressing her greatest fears and he didn’t want to overpower her.
“I’m just not certain I know what it all means, or what we can really ever be to each other.”
It was true. He had considered whether or not Maribel was just another woman in his bed, another sexual conquest, a convenient distraction from his stressful life. He had forged those types of relationships—many, many times in the past—and Maribel was perceptive enough to assume it. He understood why she was cautious because he understood that he had not expressed everything that had been churning in his heart. But from the very beginning, she had made it all different for him. And now, he wanted her to know it.
“Maribel, I know that nothing I can say will express what I’ve been feeling these past two days. But I want you to know that this connection between us is something different for me, something I can’t completely explain with words—not even to myself. And yes, it’s only been two days since we’ve formally met each other, but I feel like I’ve known you my whole life and now you’re finally a part of it in a way that feels right. And I can’t claim to know what it all means or what we can be to each other, but I’m willing to find out…are you?” He searched her eyes—those beautiful brown eyes that filled him with nothing but the promise to save him from himself.
Slowly, she took up his hand and encouraged him to his feet. She loosened his tie and let it drop to the floor. Button by button, she unfastened his business shirt. Miles moved his hands around her waist, preparing to draw her into his body and consume her. But she stopped him. Now, it was she who wanted to undress him. He dropped his hands and relaxed as she brushed open his shirt across his broad shoulders and removed each sleeve. The cool air of the apartment pricked his skin. She softened the chill with a kiss on his pecs. He exhaled and tried to run his hands under her new silk panties, but again, she stopped and resisted him. Her hands passed over the gold buckle of his belt. She drew it back, sliding it out from each pant loop. Her release of its taut leather unleashed a pang of desire in him—a basic instinct to embrace her, smother her with his body, and force his way inside her. But he quelled the urge to overpower her. Instead, her eyes arrested him—as if he could only hear her thoughts. Yes, she was willing to try, but only on her terms. He clenched his jaw as she unzipped his fly, and watched as she lowered herself down to the floor, stripping him of each dress shoe, sock, and pant leg. She rose again and circled behind him, peering at his reflection in the mirror. Only his black silk boxers remained. Her soft cashmere sweater feathered against his back as she lifted up his hand and moistened his thumb and forefinger with her warm lips. He exhaled with restraint. He wanted to claim her, slip his wet fingertips under her white panties and fondle her black pouch.
But it was she who towed down his boxers over his thighs and feet. The contour of her breasts brushed against his bare erection. He throbbed for her—hard and maroon, coursing with blood and emotion. The muscles in his chest flinched. Like a reflex, he placed his hands on her head to guide her mouth downwards. But she removed them, and circled her hands around his backside and between his cheeks, her fingers caressing
him the way he had caressed her that afternoon. He exhaled and closed his eyes. She probed him deeper, then licked the slick tip of his erection, letting the sensation linger until he opened his eyes to meet her own. Miles had never stood naked in front of any woman without exerting his ability to overtake her. Now, swollen and yearning, he stood naked and vulnerable in front of Maribel, allowing her to tongue him with.
“Maribel, I need you…” His hands encircled her wrists, urging her to signal that she was willing to let him be more to her.
“Why?” she whispered, rising from her knees and locking eyes with him. “Why do you need me so much?”
“Because you make me want to be a better man.”
The sincerity in his confession disarmed them. She gazed into his eyes, weighing his words before the lights in the closet suddenly flicked off. They stood in the darkness, the sound of their breath their only gauge of each other. Miles listened for her response. He felt her remove the luxury watch and diamond tennis bracelet from her wrists. They dropped onto the hardwood floor like broken chains.
“My love is free, Miles. Promise me you won’t forget that.”
Her body relaxed as he nudged her for a kiss.
“Not free,” he said with a hush, and cradled her head against his own. “Priceless.”
She sighed and released herself to him, accepting the full weight of his tongue flowing through her mouth and down her neckline. He heaved his emotions into her ear and consumed her with tender commitment. She lifted up her hands, allowing him to slide off her sweater and taste her nipples—his sweet and salty Maribel. His mouth dug between her breasts like she was offering up her soul. Miles felt the change in her body. Slowly, she rotated her silk white panties against his firm cock, unifying the full force of his pelvis into her own. It was the signal Miles had needed—craved—and now, it was filled with mutual desire. He swept her up into his arms and carried her to his bed, crisp and fresh, waiting to be christened with the passion of their connection. He spread her out across its sheets, and admired her in the soft light of the moon. She lifted up his thumb and forefinger and sucked it with luscious flicks. Her stimulation hardened his cock and energized his determination to satisfy her. He slipped down her white panties over her smooth legs. She relaxed with his touch and butterflied her knees, wider, as his fingers nestled between her legs and thumbed her clit. He exhaled and peered into her eyes. I love pleasuring you, he told her with his unwavering gaze. He watched her face—lips parting, eyes closing, absorbing the palpitations of his sensual touch.
He shifted his palm against her pubic bone and fingered her deeper, massaging her G-spot with rhythmic stokes and encouraging her to give in.
Yes, yes, yes… she nodded.
Yes, yes, yes, he confirmed with the full force of his fingers, taking in the view of her mouth, breasts, and legs—slackening with arousal.
He lowered his tongue to her slit and licked her—once. She flinched and heaved. He lowered her own hand between her legs to calm her inhibitions, settling her fingers into his own and penetrating her—together. Their fingers established long, repetitive beats that assuaged her insecurities and relaxed her inner thighs. God, Maribel. You’re so beautiful. She was gushing and glistening for him. He lowered his chin and licked her again—first a teasing wisp over her clit—and then, indulging deeper. Her body quaked with convulsions. He accelerated his flicks until she could no longer control her need to be penetrated by him. She tried to draw him in. No, not yet, not yet…his firm hand commanded her. Suddenly, he shifted their position, towing Maribel up into his arms and into his lap, wrapping her legs around his waist. His fingers spread open her backside to fondle her with his forefinger. She lowered her head against her shoulder with a submissive exhale. Don’t stop, don’t stop.... Miles had no intention of stopping. He massaged her in circles, priming her open with her own wetness. Then, he shifted his cock behind her and explored her with ginger tucks—slow, coy pressure from his tip that tested her tautness and glazed it with his own slickness without fully breaking through.
In the darkness, Miles noted the sudden silence of Maribel’s panting and sensed her anticipation. He knew she assumed it was what he wanted, and she was willing to give it to him. He simply sought to stimulate every part of her body and arouse every part of her being. She encircled his wrists and braced herself for him to take her—completely.
Deeper?
Yes, deeper.
They both sighed as he slowly pierced into her, forging past the friction with one forbidden thrust. Maribel’s head dropped backwards as her mouth opened with an inaudible gasp. She arched her back and accepted him deeply.
I’m going to fall in love with you, Maribel Martinez…
Miles wasn’t sure if he said it aloud or not, but he knew he could no longer deny it. They exchanged breaths in rapid succession. Sweat glazed their cheeks and shoulders. Miles embraced Maribel with all his strength and shifted himself deeper inside her, wanting her to feel the physical consequences of his stolen heart. There was nothing in the world more important to him in that moment than his quest for her unconditional trust. Then, as if they traded hearts and minds, they heaved in unison with a shuttering fervor before falling back together against the stark sheets of his bed. It had been the most intense two days of Miles’ life—and yet, he knew it was only the beginning of his love for her.
Chapter Eleven
Miles awoke to the smell of pancakes.
Vanilla, he thought and rose from the bed in search of the source of the sweet scent. She was there in his kitchen, dressed in her rosebud pajamas and bunny slippers, manning a skillet and spatula over his massive stainless steel stove.
“Good morning,” she smiled, her eyes tracking him to the island, where he slipped himself onto the black leather stool and watched as she flipped the bubbling flap jacket. He rubbed his face, half-awake, and admired her in the natural sunlight. Her black hair fell over her shoulders and her face was fresh and invigorated—blushing cheeks, full lips, shining eyes. It was the same woman he had sought to please last night, and now she was seeking to please him by making pancakes.
“I missed you this morning.” His eyes lingered on her.
“Sorry, I wanted to surprise you with breakfast.”
“I’m surprised. But I still missed you.”
Maribel smirked, tender but sassy, as if she pretended not to believe him. She flipped the pancake with her spatula, then opened his refrigerator.
“You have everything in here. I snuck into your kitchen this morning, expecting it to be an empty bachelor pad. Instead, I discovered a fully-stocked refrigerator. Milk, eggs, fruit, butter, cheese,” Maribel closed into his refrigerator and peered into the sleek modern cabinets. “Even your pantry is stocked with baking ingredients.”
“Courtesy of Fang Ji, my housekeeper.”
“You even have whipped cream.”
“Yummie. For later,” he joked and circled around to steal a kiss. She shrugged him off and poured syrup onto his flapjack. Then, she guided him back to the island with a place mat and utensils.
“It will get cold,” she said.
“Delicious,” he eyed her.
She slid around his red Brazilian hardwood floor in her bunny slippers like she was skating on ice. She removed the butter and cream from the refrigerator and pulled down two mugs from the wall hooks. He loved watching her, settling into his kitchen with ease. It had been a long time since Miles had woken up with a woman with whom he looked forward to spending the whole morning. Not only did he look forward to spending the whole day with Maribel, he looked forward to never letting her go.
She poured him a cup of black coffee and offered him cream. He shook his head and accepted the mug. He smiled and relaxed his bare chest against the edge of the island’s granite countertop. He was completely naked, but comfortable and relaxed, as the morning sunlight basked against his bare back.
“You’re spoiling me with your baking.” He drank from his mug and endu
red the sharp heat of the coffee.
“Somebody needs to spoil you,” she answered over her mug’s own rim.
“You spoiled me last night,” he countered.
Maribel lifted her brown eyes and sipped from her coffee, but she did not respond. Instead, she shifted her eyes onto ringing cell phone, buzzing in front of them, interrupting their peaceful morning.
G-A-R-Y. The name flashed across the phone’s screen.
He noted the look of disappointment in Maribel’s eyes as she turned away and poured more pancake batter into the skillet.
“Answer call—speaker phone,” he called to the device. Gary’s stren voice erupted through its base.
“Brax, where the hell have you been? I’ve been trying to get ahold of you all fucking morning.”
“I’ve been busy,” Miles replied, drinking from his mug, “eating pancakes.” He winked at Maribel, who pretended not to enjoy the attention. “By the way, Gary, don’t swear so early in the morning.”
“Jesus fucking Christ, Brax… have you lost your fucking mind? I’m trying not to lose you a hundred million dollars, and you’re telling me to stop swearing while eating pancakes on a fucking Monday morning?”
Miles stopped smiling. He registered the uncharacteristic alarm in Gary’s voice, took up his phone, and switched off its speaker.
“A hundred million dollars is an over-statement, Gary. The Olson & Anderson deal is only worth thirty-five million.”
“Fuck the Olson & Anderson deal. The Olson & Anderson deal is dead. They’ve signed with Zale at his Amory building. I’m taking about Faber and Orsolini.”
“What about them?”
“She’s taking them. Gillian’s taking away all of them.”
Miles weighted Gary’s words, trying to piece together their implications.
“She can’t. We’ve got letters of intent, Gary.”
“Fuck the letters of intent. There’s no signed leases—are you planning to drag them into court with only letters of intent?”
Priceless: Contemporary Billionaire Romance Novel Page 10
