I enjoy the sensation for a moment, but then push him away.
I rinse off for a few minutes, quietly thinking over what he is saying.
“You care about her, more than you admit,” I finally tell him.
“No, I care about her as a friend, that’s all Vic,” Evan tells me.
I look up into his deep blue eyes, and I know it’s the truth.
“How much longer are we going to go on, before you give in, and just admit you want more of a commitment?” he says, as bold as ever.
He rubs soap over his groin, paying attention to getting his dick clean.
Then, he rinses off.
My gaze falls to his cock.
I’m shaking a little, so I turn away again, to compose myself.
My pussy is throbbing.
“I don’t know,” is the only answer that comes to mind, and I know it won’t satisfy him.
Evan grabs my shoulders, turning me to face him.
The water cascades onto us, the shower nozzles spraying us down.
When Evan kisses me this time, it’s not a kiss that leads to him mercilessly fucking me.
It’s sweet, intense, and bends my mind in dangerous directions.
For the first time in my life, I kiss a man back, and my mind is entirely blank.
There’s nothing but vapid emptiness in my head as Evan’s smooth lips press against mine, repeatedly, until I’m dizzy.
When we finally pull away, the spray of the water has gotten colder, but Evan focuses on me.
I can’t stop myself, I stare into his eyes that bore right back into mine.
“What was that?” I ask.
“I don’t know,” he replies honestly.
He steps out of the shower, grabs a towel, and heads for the other bedroom.
His massive cock is still erect, as he wraps the towel around his waist.
“I’ll see you in a while, for dinner, Vic,” he says.
“Don’t be late! Or else, you may be punished,” he grins, evilly.
He shuts the door.
Whether Evan leaves me alone to get ready for dinner because he knows I like my privacy, or because he needs to decipher the kiss in peace, I cannot know.
I pull on a black mini-dress.
I’m as confused as I’ve always been.
Our relationship should be natural, dammit.
Whatever Evan and I have stymies me more than my divorce
When Evan appears in my doorway, freshly dressed with his blonde hair still wet, I am pulling a brush through my hair.
He’s as handsome as ever in casual jeans and crisp black button-up shirt.
“Ready for dinner?” he asks.
I nod and bite my lip.
My head is still spinning, wildly, out of control, from that one kiss.
3
Evan
December 24, 2017
It’s Christmas Eve, but the hum of the resort is a low din, the mood relaxed, and frankly, this is the most relaxed that I’ve ever seen Vic.
I made reservations ahead of time, so Vic and I get a prime table for two that faces away the rest of the restaurant, and provides a lush view of the gardens, the pools, and the ocean.
There’s so much to take in I almost don’t know where to look first.
Vic’s eyes, however, are downcast and focused on the menu.
“This is nice,” I mention.
“It’s gorgeous,” she replies.
She refuses to look at me, however.
“Wine or cocktails?” I say, trying to get her attention.
“There’s a Vesper on the drink menu,” Vic smirks at me.
“Two of those then,” I say, and motion for a waiter.
Our eyes meet, and I want to lean over to kiss her again, and again, but the waiter appears and breaks the moment as he introduces himself.
I smile at Vic as he pours water into our glasses.
“Shall I start with your drink orders?” he asks.
I couldn’t tell you his name if I tried.
“Two Vespers,” Vic tells him coldly.
She’s just as pissed as I am that he ruined the moment.
He nods, and then runs off with the drink order.
Vic’s attention returns to the menu.
I clear my throat.
She peers over the menu, her gorgeous eyes bright and shiny as they focus on me.
“You look beautiful, Vic. Every man in the room has his eyes on you, you know,” I say.
“I know,” she says.
Her gaze returns to the menu, and then she glances around.
Vic always holds her head high, and her confidence commands the attention of every room she walks into.
She could wear a paper bag and still look like the goddess she is.
“You picked a nice little resort,” she applauds my choice.
“Why would take me with you?” she asks.
“Who else would I take?” I retort.
“Leigha?” she suggests.
Oh, bloody Hell!
Not this again.
“Leigha is a friend,” I point out.
“Nothing more, nothing less. We’re friends. She was in a rough spot after her ex left her, and that’s it,” I say, to try to defuse the situation.
“So, you admit you care about her then?” Vic argues with me.
“Do you want to start a fight? Because our kiss, back there in the shower? It meant something?” I whisper.
Then, I lean in, my lips against her ear.
“It meant a lot to me, if you were wondering,” my voice is low in her ear.
“Well, it didn’t matter to me,” Vic replies, her voice flat.
I recoil instantly.
“Evan, let’s have a quiet dinner, all right?” Vic pleads.
She turns away, to look over the ocean.
I’m getting angry.
I can’t help it.
We’ve been going around in circles for so long.
She belongs to me, and she knows that!
“Sure,” I say.
I will let it lie.
For now, anyway.
I change the subject instead.
“How’s your sister, Grace?” I ask.
The easiest way to diffuse the tension is to bring up Vic’s older sister, to whom she’s always looked up.
Vic is having none of that, however.
“She’s good, she’s on vacation. In Greece right now. Or Spain. I can’t remember honestly. She’s everywhere at once,” Vic laughs.
Grace travels the world on a shoe-string budget but made partner at a sizeable mid-town law firm last year; she’s not your typical lawyer.
I pretend that our conversation is good enough to appease me.
I catch sight of her over the rim of my martini glass, her lips slightly parted as she pushes her blonde hair away from her face, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen a woman more beautiful.
She’s captivating, the light outlining her face in an exquisite manner.
Vic takes a sip of the martini slowly, and her lipstick leaves a small imprint on the glass.
She catches me staring.
“What?” Vic asks.
“What?” I repeat.
I shake my head.
“You’ve got a strange look on your face?” she says.
When Vic leans forward slightly, I reach out to touch her, and my hand gently brushes her face.
She leans away from me, her laser focus on me as she takes a huge gulp of her martini.
“Thirsty?” I tease with a smirk.
“Don’t you give me that crooked smile,” she says hotly.
I can see a tiny little smile behind the rim of her empty glass.
A cool tropical breeze flows through the restaurant, and the smell of the ocean mixed with the flora and fauna is heavenly.
“I love it here,” Vic declares with a content sigh.
“Me too,” I agree with her.
“Okay, I’ll admit, this was more than an adequate choice, thi
s place is absolutely gorgeous,” Vic gushes.
I smirk because now I know the booze has hit her.
The waiter reappears with a look of fear on his face.
He’s wondering if he should have been more attentive.
I lean back and give him a big smile.
“We’ll have two more Vesper martinis, garcon, if you please,” I say.
He still looks apprehensive, so I motion him closer.
I notice his nametag is ‘Henri”.
“Henri, my good man, if you promise to give us your undivided attention for the rest of the evening, I will give you a tip that is triple the amount of our dinner,” I whisper.
His eyes go wide.
“Tell your manager that I will also give him the same amount, so long as he agrees to let you be our exclusive waiter. Do you understand me, Henri?” I say.
He gets a big smile.
He looks relieved, but still just a tad anxious, as if this were a trick.
I push a $100 bill his way.
He palms it, and instantly his attention to detail is ramped up to eleven.
“As you wish! May I have the ultimate pleasure of providing you with the specials?” he says, smiling broadly.
I laugh.
“Henri, you were doing fine, just be yourself, my good man!” I reaffirm.
“We’ll have the next drinks immediately, and then come back for our order, please!” I say.
Henri trots off to the kitchen.
While we are watching the skies and the beautiful birds, our drinks arrive.
I hear a bit of heated whispering and a shout.
Suddenly, the maître d is at our table.
“Monsieur and Madame, is everything acceptable? Henri has informed me of your kind and generous offer, but I must insist, we will provide you with the best of service…” he starts.
I cut him off.
“Everything is fine, now, good Sir!” I say cheerfully, slipping him another Benjamin.
“Just make sure we get top flight, priority one service for the remainder of our visit,” I say.
I draw closer and whisper to him, conspiratorially.
“You see, Sir, my assistant who normally handles these trivial matters for me is under the weather,” I say, loud enough for Vic to hear me.
Victoire’s eyes flash daggers at me.
I look back, sternly, reminding her that I am in charge, here.
She kicks me lightly under the table.
At least I think it was supposed to be a light tap.
Maybe she missed?
“I would prefer we don’t have any misunderstanding in this regard,” I say, clearly.
“Whatever our bill is for this evening, I will pay triple to assure that my companion and I are not disturbed, and that your best man, Henri, is the captain for our sup. You will get a commensurate gratuity,” I tell him.
The man looks ready to explode with delight.
“One thing, Sir,” I say.
His attention is 100% on me now.
“Yes, whatever it is, your wish is mine to fulfill, Monsieur!” he says, gleefully.
“I want to apologize, sincerely, for this faux pas regarding the poor performance of my assistant. I can assure you, that, when I finally am able to bring this to her attention, she will indeed be punished!” I say.
Vic goes pale.
The maître d nods curtly, and suddenly the restaurant is all buzzing with activity.
Henri returns, as I sip my martini.
Vic is staring at me, her martini still untouched.
I smile at her.
“May I take your order, Monseiur?” Henri asks.
“Call me Evan, Henri,” I say.
“We’re all friends here, Henri,” I smile at him.
I take another sip from the glass, and smack my lips.
“These are outstanding! Keep the martinis coming!” I laugh.
“The lady will have the seared Ahi Tuna, and I’ll have the strip loin,” I order.
“Superb choice, Evan,” he says.
He turns to Victoire.
“Would the lady like to add anything else?” he asks Vic.
“This is Vicky, Henri, and please forgive my extraordinary bad manners at not having introduced you previously,” I say in mock embarrassment.
She blushes, seething.
“Miss Vicky, may I have the honor of taking any additional orders for your pleasure,” Henri smiles.
Vic pretends to peruse the menu.
“I’ll have a kale Cesare salad to start,” she says.
“Me as well, Henri,” I say, and then he’s gone.
I think I saw a huge smile on his face.
“I think I made him nervous before,” Vic quips innocently as she bites her lip.
“Yeah, you have that effect on people,” I laugh at her comment.
“Do I?” her voice is suddenly sultry.
“Why the sudden largesse, Evan?” she asks.
“You don’t have to impress me,” she adds.
I slide my chair a little closer to hers.
“Yeah,” I reply.
“Do I make you nervous?” Vic continues.
“Not one bit,” I lie.
She makes me nervous as all hell sometimes.
Vic is the very definition of fire and ice.
One second, she’s all over me; the next she’s the ice queen, and I can’t get anything out of her.
I’m not afraid that she will end our little arrangement.
Vic needs me too much.
The rest of the evening is a fantastic affair, with Henri and the maître d fighting to see who can be most obsequious.
They fall over each other, trying to prove that they are the better manservant.
It’s humorous, but I also find myself feeling like a bit of an asshole for having them carry on like this.
Vic and I eat our meals.
The food is delicious, the presentation outstanding, and the service rivals any that I’ve had.
We talk very little, enjoying the dinner, and then the dessert cart is brought out and Vic and I try to decide what to have.
She picks a crème brulée, while I try the key lime cheesecake.
Coffee and espresso are brought, and I also order a cordial.
We sit and chat about silly things.
Vic confesses she did like Alice, after all.
“Would you have fucked her, if I had asked?” I probe.
“Master, you know the answer to that,” she slurs.
It comes out “Mashturr.”
I laugh, and Vic giggles and hiccups.
I realize we’ve both had a bit too much to drink.
The meal ends, and both Henri and the maître d applaud us, and guide us to the door.
I settle the check, and you would have thought the two of them had died and gone to heaven.
“Please return, and soon, mon Ami!” Henri says.
He is so bold as to hug me, and kiss both of my cheeks, in the manner of the French.
Not to be outdone, the maître d informs me that he is at my disposal for any room service or needs for Vic and I.
He whispers and nods, and presses a note into my hand.
“Anything at all, Monsieur Evan,” he whispers.
“I can be very discrete, non?” he adds.
I laugh and clap him on the back, and he’s all smiles and bowing as Vic and I stagger out the door.
We are both close to obliterated from the martinis.
We wander, stumbling around the resort, hand in hand.
I kiss Vic, and she hugs me for balance, and we are giggling like a couple of loons.
It isn’t until we reach our room that Vic pulls her hand out of mine and leans against the door.
“You’re pretty,” she tells me.
“You’re pretty,” I slur back.
I swipe the key card a few times before the door finally opens and we both fall into the open concept living room.
Vic land
s on the couch and pulls off her Louboutins, spreading her arms wide.
“I’m glad I came, I think,” Vic questions herself.
“Why wouldn’t you be glad?” I ask.
I plop down on the couch beside her and Vic puts her head in my lap.
“My dad is in rehab, and he owes bad people money,” Vic sighs and shakes her head.
“My dad is trouble, Ev, as far as I’m concerned. So, please stop asking to meet him, Ev,” Vic requests.
She hiccups, lightly.
“Are you serious?” I ask.
She’s never told me any of this.
“Deadly, in fact,” she replies.
Vic looks up at me, those blue eyes wide.
“Why would I make that up?” she pouts.
“You wouldn’t,” I say, trying to calm her.
“That’s why I shouldn’t be here, because my dad is trouble, and I don’t have time for a boyfriend, because they always leave anyway, so…,” she runs out of things to say.
“You know, I’m more than just some stupid boyfriend, right?” I slur.
“No, but yes, but no, but sort of,” she stumbles through her words.
“I still remember what you did,” her voice is suddenly monotone.
Jesus Christ!
I’m still going to pay for that, even now?
“Vic, I didn’t know how to react, you said you loved me,” I tell her.
“I was drunk!” she declares.
She jumps to her feet, wobbly on the floor.
“If you had stuck around long enough, you would’ve known, that I didn’t mean it, I loved every one that night!” she shouts.
“Oh! Shit!” Vic shouts loud as anything.
“And you gave me ecstasy!” she reminds me.
This is true.
We both dropped ecstasy that night, at Ava’s weddings.
We would’ve been bored to tears otherwise.
I would’ve loved a hole in a tree that night if I hadn’t taken Vic home.
“I apologized,” I say, trying to move past this.
“You still left, and you didn’t pick up the phone when I called, so I’ve written you off!” she declares with a flourish.
“Really?” I say in disbelief.
“I don’t think you could write me off, if you tried,” I tell her seriously.
I get up, cross the floor, sweep her into my arms and smash my lips against hers.
Vic readily accepts my hungry kisses, her arms are draped around my neck, and I’m sucked into the chaos of whatever this is.
Heat_A Stone Billionaire Series Novel Page 3
