by Christa Wick
“Such negativity, sweetling.” Cole turned his laptop around and pushed it in my direction. “But you’re right. We should try to find it inside the charity first. It will take more than a week to get it cleared through corporate.”
“Right.” I started clicking on accounts that could only be accessed under Cole’s log-in. “Let’s keep looking.”
I glanced up from the screen to find him staring at me, a loose smile parting his lips. I knew he wasn’t thinking about the soldiers at that moment. I blushed, trying to hide the fact that I knew he was looking at me and that there was nothing professional in his gaze.
At least I hoped he was looking at me. Or at least thinking about me as his eyes took on a slightly vacant appearance.
“How was your nap?”
I would have to have been deaf to miss the teasing quality of his question. I tried to pretend I hadn’t noticed it.
“Good. I didn’t even hear you come in.”
“I didn’t think so,” he answered as he partially rotated the laptop and rolled his chair to the side of his desk so we could both look at the screen. “I was going to wake you, but you seemed so peaceful.”
His words slowed as he reached the part about waking me. I shifted in my seat, my brain running circles in my head as I tried to interpret his tone. How long had he watched me sleeping? Had he been the slightest bit tempted to touch me? Had I managed to arouse him at all?
“Here.” He pointed at the screen. “We can move this disbursement to next month. That project is overfunded at the moment.”
Forcing myself to focus on the account he was pointing at, I scribbled a note on a piece of paper. “That brings us to a little over sixty percent.”
When Cole didn’t respond, I risked glancing at him. He had moved his chair slightly closer to mine and his body leaned in. He had closed his eyes at some point. The lids slowly lifted, the brows rising with them.
“You’re wearing the perfume I bought.” A pleased grin widened his face. “You didn’t say whether you liked it yesterday or what you thought the V really stood for.”
“It’s great,” I stuttered. Two years, at least a thousand fantasies involving the man beside me, and I found myself speechless at the first glimmer of physical intimacy between us. At least I thought there might be a glimmer. Maybe I wanted it too badly and had started imagining what wasn’t there.
“You didn’t say what you think it stands for,” I finished lamely.
He chewed at his bottom lip and I saw the second blush to ever cross Cole Mason’s cheeks in my presence.
“It’s a very deep, wet smell,” he offered, his usually confident voice halting between words. “Like petals dressed in morning dew or drops of rain after a storm has passed.”
Realizing I was holding my breath as he spoke, I slowly released it.
“Of course,” he teased before turning back to his computer. “There is another smell that wet and inviting.”
His tongue snaked out to lick once at his top lip. I imagined the moist tip running a firm line up my clit. I imagined it so well I could feel it, the sensation forcing my eyes shut and my bottom to shift uncomfortably against the chair.
“What is it?” I asked, my voice as needy as my aching pussy. Was he talking about the damp scent of an aroused woman? Is that what the combination of orange blossom and roses and chamomile suggested to Cole?
He leaned in, his lips whispering against my ear as they had at so many board meetings and charity events. “If I told you right now, sweetling, we won’t find any more money tonight.”
**********
We broke for dinner a little before seven. Cole had arranged for us to be served on the lawn behind the house. The chef had prepared grilled salmon mignons with a tomato basil relish and paired it with a perfectly chilled Rosé wine.
With the meal starting at early twilight, the staff had lit some small candles around the perimeter of the lawn and, halfway through the meal, I spotted the first twinkle of a firefly. I turned back from tracking the insect’s path to find Cole refilling my wine glass.
“Oh, I don’t know if I should,” I demurred. “There’s still so much work to do tonight and...”
I slowed, remembering I had two goals for the weekend. The first to find the money for the charity, the second to find Cole’s hands on me, intimately placed and caressing.
“And?” he prompted.
I blushed as my overactive imagination trailed his fingers up my thigh. I shook my head, dispelling the vision as I answered. “You’ll have a hard time waking me up in the morning if I have another glass.”
Finished pouring, he leaned back in his chair and stared at me. For a second, I felt like he was staring through me, but then he smiled. “We’re at eighty percent, right?”
I nodded. But finding the money wasn’t even half of the work. Getting everything transferred into the right account, documented and released to the charity would occupy much of my work week if we wanted to make the Friday deadline.
“Well, then,” he said and paused to sip from his glass. “I think we can let you sleep in a little late. You’ll want to anyway when you see your bedroom for the night.”
I tilted my head to soften the way I clearly studied him. It would not be my first night sleeping at the estate. Many of the charity events were spread across two days, with the biggest donors housed for the night. I stayed over because I had to be present both days and my room was always the same. It was on the top floor and had housed a dozen or more governesses over the last two centuries. I had to pass through a nursery and small classroom to reach it, and I would linger on my way, imagining a much younger Cole occupying the space.
“I quite like the nursery,” I teased before surrendering to the temptation of another sip of the delicate red wine with its hint of spice and red berry. More fireflies appeared, distracting me from Cole with their otherworld beauty.
His soft laugh drew my attention back to his handsome face and the gray eyes glittering with the last of the evening’s light.
“It’s my great grandmother’s room and it hasn’t changed since she occupied it,” he explained. His finger pointed lazily toward the fireflies he had seen me watching as they danced at the edge of the lawn. “There’s magic in the room, just like there is magic in their lights.”
My eyes grew damp and my chest tightened. I knew the room. Cole had always placed it off limits, even with the biggest donors. I had entered it once, at the very first event I had helped with some three months into my job.
Heavy baroque furniture in dark colors filled the large bedroom. Bookshelves stretched along an entire wall, covering it from floor to ceiling except for the doorway. Only candles and any fire burning in the hearth lit the room when the heavy velvet curtains were drawn.
Red velvet curtains, I remembered. Red velvet on the windows and around the four-poster bed. The same deep crimson that had surrounded Sweet Titania in her tower on the video.
“What is it, sweetling?” Reaching across the table, Cole lightly touched his fingers to my bare arm. “You look like a ghost just walked across your grave.”
“Nothing,” I lied, my head shaking absently.
“Seriously,” he persisted, his hand massaging my arm. “Your skin is chilled and you lost all color.”
I broke contact to rub at my eyes. “Tired and I’m chilled because it’s chilly. It’s not even mid-spring.”
“Fair enough,” he relented. Standing, he came around the table to grab the silk stole the staff had placed on the back of my chair. Leaning over me, he wrapped the material around my shoulders.
Once again, I was struck by the color of the fabric and how it reminded me of the video. Yesterday, with my body overriding my mind first in his office and then at home watching more videos, I had been aroused by Cole’s dirty little secret and the possibility that my fantasy of sexual intimacy between us had a chance of materializing. But did I really want Cole if...
“You’re shivering, Starla.�
�� He coaxed me onto my feet and walked me toward the house, one hand around my shoulder and the other lightly holding the arm I pressed against his side.
His body heat penetrated the stole and my clothing, but my slight tremble didn’t disappear, even after we entered the house. He kept his arm around my shoulder as we climbed the stairs to the second floor. I knew at the end of the hall, his bedroom awaited. Right next to it, the room his great grandmother had once occupied.
“I should have had you over more,” he mused as he opened the door to the room in which I would spend the night.
At some point since my arrival that morning, one of the servants had brought my overnight bag to the room and placed it on the small bench seat at the end of the bed. They also had recently started a fire in the hearth and lit several candles.
Lifting one of the candles, Cole walked me over to the bookshelf. “My father complained that I spent entirely too much time in here as a child. But my mother was delighted she wasn’t raising some mercenary captain of industry.”
Candlelight played over antique volumes of Elizabethan authors. Not just Shakespeare, but Marlowe, Donne, Spenser and Kyd. The Romantic period filled a quarter of the long wall of books.
“There isn’t a book newer than a hundred years old in this room,” he said as we reached the end of the shelves. “Of course, I could have your laptop brought up if you want. There are two outlets, I think.”
I shook my head, my fingers itching to open one of the Shakespearean volumes and let my senses drink in the smell and feel of the book’s age as my eyes scanned the immortal words.
“I didn’t think so,” he chuckled. Turning, he placed the candle in my hand. He leaned in as he did so, his lips whispering across my cheek. “Sweet dreams, Starla. Don’t stay up too late reading.”
Stunned that Cole had kissed me, however innocently, I watched wordlessly as he left the room and the shut the door behind him. For the first time, I noticed there was a key inserted into the lock on the interior side of the door. Closing my eyes, I struggled for a few seconds with the dilemma of whether or not I should turn the key.
If I locked the door, I might never find out if Cole would act on his fantasy -- at least with me. If I left it unlocked, I might discover that the man I’d spent the last two years idolizing...
Shaking my head, I turned toward the bench seat at the end of the bed. Putting down the candle, I unzipped my overnight bag. It was only a little after eight. I had hours before I would turn in. I didn’t have to decide at that exact second whether or not I would go to sleep with the door locked.
With my small beauty bag in hand, I placed the candle on the table near the door and left the room. I knew only two of the rooms on this floor had their own bathroom, Cole’s master suite and the “dignitary” suite at the opposite end of the hall. The rest of the bedrooms shared the three other bathrooms on the floor.
Entering the nearest one, I brushed my teeth and argued with whether I should remove my makeup. Really, I was arguing with myself over whether I wanted Cole in my bed, making love to me as I slept. Sweet Titania had looked every bit the starlet with the long, false eyelashes sweeping across her rosy cheeks and her lips painted a juicy pink.
Mashing my lips together, I started to cleanse my face. When I finished, I applied toner then stared at my reflection. I spent enough time and money keeping my skin clear, leaving me with a consistent pale cream tone. My brows and eyelashes were full and a shade darker than the medium gold of my hair. Pale lips disappeared against pale skin.
Frowning, I pulled a tube of lipstick from the beauty bag. I added some to my lips, but also to my cheeks. Even if I couldn’t decide whether I wanted a nocturnal visit from Cole, I didn’t want to run into him in the hall looking like a ghost.
“You’re crazy,” I whispered to myself as I returned to the bedroom. Removing a silky red nightgown from my bag, I repeated the notion. “Really, really crazy.”
The gown fell just above my knees. I had purchased it almost three years ago. But other than the first time I tried it on and that morning to make sure it would fit after so long a period, I had never worn it. I bought it in anticipation of a romantic weekend get away with my then boyfriend.
Vision blurring with the threat of tears, I sat on the bed and stared at the gown. That weekend never materialized. He had gone back to his prior girlfriend, the much thinner one he didn’t mind introducing to his family or friends. I hadn’t replaced him by the time I started working for Cole and, once I had spent a few months around Cole, I couldn’t muster any interest in the men I met.
I wiped at my tears, glad that I hadn’t re-applied any mascara. Laughing at myself, I knew I wouldn’t lock the door. I had to know if my hero had clay feet. I had to know if I could still worship him or if I needed to move on to a new job and a chance at a new boyfriend instead of the imaginary relationship with my boss.
Angel or devil, I had to know.
I dried my eyes then stripped my day clothes off. I slid the nightgown on and the matching scrap of fabric that served as panties. Taking a candle from the nightstand, I walked along the wall of books.
Spoiled for choice, I found my mood spiraling downward. No matter which book I chose, I would leave a wall of regret behind me. The same was true for whether or not I locked the door.
Sliding a slim volume from the shelf, I retreated to the couch. I opened to the title page. SHAKE-SPEARES SONNETS. Neuer before Imprinted. At London 1609.
Lifting the book to sniff at the old leather and pages, I wondered how many times Cole had held it in his hands. I thumbed carefully through the pages, trying to read the words through his mind.
...Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds
My gaze moved from the pages to the door. Firelight glinted off the metal key as if it were mocking me. When I returned to the book and read the next few lines, I knew my nerves were too raw to continue. Everything brought me back to Cole and indecision.
For I have sworn thee fair, and thought thee bright,
Who art as black as hell, as dark as night.
If I wasn’t crazy already, I would be by morning. Closing the book, I returned it to the shelf and moved slowly around the room as I blew out the candles. I opened the heavy drapes to let the moonlight in, but left the fire burning with its grate closed. The room had an odd chill about it, as if the walls insisted on pretending an English countryside surrounded them in late fall and not springtime on the outskirts of Charleston.
Once I was under the bed’s heavy coverlet, I checked the time on my cellphone. It wasn’t even ten o’clock and I couldn’t imagine falling asleep before daybreak. I closed my eyes and tried anyway.
**********
Against all expectation, I fell into a light sleep aided by the precious few hours I had captured the night before and the extra glasses of wine at dinner. Sometime in the middle of the night, when the moon had climbed out of the window’s frame, a light knock at the bedroom door woke me.
I didn’t answer. My throat constricted tightly and a sudden dizziness washed over me, my head spinning even though I was on my back and motionless. The knock came again and then the door swung inward. I peeked through thinly slitted lids to see Cole enter the room and quietly shut the door behind him.
A robe covered him, stopping at the bend of his knee. As much as I wanted to see how the material clung to him or what he looked like with the robe off, I forced my eyes shut.
Already, the question filled my mind, leaving room for no other thought.
Should I stop him?
“Starla?” His weight dented the mattress as he sat next to me. His hand brushed a few strands of hair from my face. “Baby, wake up.”
I fought to keep my eyes closed. Surprise wanted to pry them open. Had Cole really just called me “baby” and told me to wake up?
He tucked a lock of hair behind my ear as he leaned over me. His lips caressed the side of my face as he repeated the order.
<
br /> “Starla, baby. I need you to wake up.”
I drew a deep breath but continued to feign sleep. Why was he talking to me, telling me to wake? How could I continue to pretend when he was talking into my ear?
“Baby, I can’t kiss you if you’re asleep.”
He said he couldn’t, but he did. His mouth brushed lightly over mine and then he nipped softly at my lower lip. My body tightened in need. My thighs pressed together. My nipples pebbled and I drew a slow, anguished breath.
“I can’t stroke you when you’re sleeping,” he continued, his palm smoothing against my arm and the side of my breast.
I turned slightly toward the center of the bed, my breast sliding against his palm. Cole’s moan rumbled over my throat as he gave my nipple a gentle pinch.
“Baby, you’re killing me.” His tongue trailed below my ear then along my jaw until he whispered the words past my open lips. “I want to feel how wet you are. How hot...”
He kissed me again, his tongue slow fucking its way into my mouth as his grip on my breast became more possessive. Breaking the kiss, he buried his face against my neck and gently sucked as his hand manipulated my flesh, pulling and squeezing then finding the nipple through the fabric and drawing it taut.
My hips began to move, need making them dance.
I stilled when he eased away and lowered the coverlet down to my knees. My body tensed as he ran a hand up my thigh and pushed the nightgown up to my hips. Fingering the edge of my panties, he leaned in once more.
Cole kissed and nibbled at my ear, his words teasing me. “I want to taste you, Starla.”
My hips lifted and his finger slid under the band to brush directly against my skin. He trailed a line beneath the fabric. Finding the split of my labia, he rubbed his knuckle against the seam until my flesh parted.
“Mmm...” He sucked at my neck, his words a throaty whisper. “So wet, baby. Please wake up. I want to suck you here.”
“Here” was where his knuckle pressed against my clit in short upward strokes that made my ass wiggle against the mattress. My body ached with need, my nipples and clit burning with desire. My breath grew ragged as he rubbed harder.
