by Serena Grey
I come over and over until I’m begging him to stop. When he finally raises his head, he’s grinning, and I can hardly move. My legs are wobbling, my whole body throbbing, my voice hoarse from screaming in exquisite pleasure.
“Let’s go for a walk,” he suggests, as if he didn’t just give me multiple orgasms. “We can’t leave without at least exploring the beach.”
HE’S right about the beach. It’s beautiful, the sand is white, clean, and eager to deliver a treasure of different types of shells. The sound of the ocean is soothing, and the cry of seagulls lends an interesting oddity to the atmosphere. We walk barefoot at the edge of the surf, reveling in our solitude, taking selfies with the sunset in the background, and enjoying the feel of sand against our soles.
“It’s so beautiful,” I tell Landon, watching the waves traveling up to the shore.
“You’re beautiful,” he tells me.
I sigh. He somehow expects women not to fall in love with him and demand commitment when he says stuff like that to them?
“What’s on your mind?” he asks, correctly gauging the shift in my mood.
“Just building up my arsenal for resisting your charms,” I say with a shrug.
He looks hurt. “My charms are irresistible.”
Laughing despite myself, I push his chest lightly. “You’re not very humble.”
“No,” he grins. “I have you beside me. I have every right to strut like a peacock.”
I roll my eyes, and he pulls me towards him and places a soft kiss on my forehead.
We walk back to the house to eat the lunch that’s delivered by the caretaker, then we make love on the porch swing. It rocks with our movements, its gentle swing lulling me to sleep after.
When I wake up, the sun is setting over the horizon, casting a vibrant deep-orange glow over the water and the sky. It’s breathtaking, and Landon allows me to admire it for a while before letting me know it’s time to leave.
A hired driver is already on his way to take us to the airport, where Landon’s plane is waiting. So we get ready, silently gathering our things. It’s almost as if we’re both feeling the same thing, an unspoken reluctance to go back to the city, back to our lives, leaving the idyll of our weekend behind.
“WHERE are you?” The text arrives just as I get into the car waiting for Landon when we arrive in New York. It’s from Dylan, my baby brother, and it’s accompanied by an angry emoji.
“What’s up?” I type in reply, pleased and surprised. Dylan isn’t the best communicator in the world. He buries himself in his video games and his studies and mostly resists our attempts to dig him out.
“I’m at your place with Laurie,” he texts back. “When are you coming back?”
“Already on my way,” I reply. “Will be there in minutes. Wait for me!!”
“My brother’s in town,” I tell Landon, smiling excitedly. He met Dylan once, and they’d actually hit it off, which wasn’t usually par for the course with Dylan.
Landon nods, and I lean closer to him, tempted to burrow as close as I possibly can and prolong the memory of our wonderful weekend. “Do you see him often?” he asks.
I shrug. “Not as often as I’d like, but we usually pick up where we left off.”
He laughs, then pulls me in so my head is on his shoulder. “I don’t want to let you go,” he murmurs in my ear.
I know what he means. Through the short flight and even now, I’d been thinking the same thing, how much I wish the weekend didn’t have to end. My body softens, melting into his. “I had a great time too.”
When we’re almost at my place, he strokes my arm. “Will you change your mind about coming to San Francisco for the opening of the new hotel?”
I smile shamefacedly, recalling how I’d reacted to his earlier invitation. “Of course I’ll come.”
He nods. “I’ll leave town sometime this week, but I want to see you every day before I leave.”
“Every day?” I echo, so pleased I’m almost ashamed of myself.
“Is that too much?”
Never! I grin. “I’ll consider it.”
He’s laughing. “Let’s have dinner tomorrow,” he says. “When you’re not working, I want you to be with me.”
“Yes boss.”
He chuckles but doesn’t say anything. At my apartment, he carries my tiny weekend luggage upstairs, kissing me goodbye at the door.
I watch him walk down the stairs, taking them two at a time, then he blows me a kiss before disappearing from sight.
I take a deep breath, then turn to unlock the door and let myself into the apartment. I’m so happy I feel like I’m floating, I have to tell myself not to hope, not to want any more than I’ve already settled for, but it’s hard to listen.
Inside, Dylan is stretched out on the couch, with Laurie seated on the floor, laughing at something he said.
“Look who’s back!” she exclaims, not getting up. She wiggles her eyebrows meaningfully. “How was your weekend?”
Dylan unwraps his lanky body from the couch. He looks like my Dad, but with the same green eyes as me and my mom. “Laurie says you went on a romantic getaway with your boyfriend,” he looks serious. “I feel bound to challenge him to a duel to defend our family honor.”
Laurie is giggling. “Pistols or swords.”
“Both?” Dylan abandons his straight-faced expression and doubles over with laughter. He takes a few steps to where I’m standing and we hug, then he pulls me towards the couch. “We’re drinking wine and sharing secrets,” he tells me. “You have to join, and in case you’re wondering, I’m not going to fight your boyfriend,” he does a dignified-old-man face and pats my head. “You’re of age.”
Laurie breaks into giggles again and Dylan joins her.
I shove him gently. “How much wine have you guys had?” I exclaim, joining Laurie on the floor while Dylan throws himself back on the couch. Laurie hands me an empty glass and pours me some of the red wine they’ve been drinking. “What are you doing in the city anyway?” I ask Dylan.
“I came to see a show,” he replies.
“Huh!” I crane my head to look at him. “What show?”
He tells me the name of some rock band I’ve never heard of.
“Did he go with a girl?” I ask Laurie.
She nods slowly.
I turn to Dylan. “Tell me more. I’m your sister.”
He holds back for a while, and I tease him mercilessly until he volunteers a few details. Her name is Kelly. She’s also premed. They came to see a show. She went home after, and he decided to stop by my place. It’s not much, but from Dylan it’s a whole lot of information.
He allows me to keep teasing him while we order take-out and then we stay up late watching episodes of the Avatar. Dylan spends the night on the couch and is still asleep when I leave in the morning.
He’s going straight back to school, a detail that would break my mom’s heart if she finds out that he came all the way without going home.
My walk to the office is invigorating. The air is crisp and smells of all the different flavors of New York. I allow myself to dwell on how different I feel from just a few days ago. How the knowledge that I would see Landon in the evening makes me want to break into song as I walk.
A few blocks from my office, my phone rings. Pleasure rises inside when I see that it’s Landon.
“Good morning,” he says.
“Good morning.”
“Did you have a good night?”
I smile. “Hmm..mm.”
“Dream of me?”
“What do you think?”
He sighs. “Your brother still around?”
“Yeah. He’s leaving today.”
Landon is quiet for a moment. A horn blares loudly close to me. “Where are you?” he asks.
“On my way to work. I’m a few blocks from the office.”
“You’re walking?”
“Yeah,” I reply, surprised at his tone. “It’s the only way to keep my weight f
rom catching up to my IQ.”
He doesn’t laugh at the joke. “You and Laurie walk together?”
I see where he’s going. “Sometimes, other times she leaves earlier than me.”
“I’m not convinced it’s safe,” he states, confirming my idea.
“Well, it is. I’ve been doing this for two years.”
He is silent, and I hear him expel a breath. I understand how safety is an issue for him. But I’m not a billionaire hotelier. I don’t need a bodyguard.
“When are you leaving the office?” he asks.
I tell him.
“Joe will pick you up,” he states, with an edge of finality in his voice. “Just let me know when you’re about to leave.
“Landon, it’s not necessary.”
“I think it is.” His tone is firm. Not the tone of the lover from yesterday, but the man who’s used to being obeyed. “Your safety is important to me,” he continues, his voice softening. “The more people know who you are to me, the more unreasonable it becomes for you to traipse around with no security at all.”
I keep quiet, feeling defiant. “It’s not like we’re taking out an announcement or anything like that.”
There is a short laugh from his side. “We won’t need one.”
He sounds so certain that I start wondering how many times he’s been through this, the excitement from the gossip columns whenever there’s a new woman in his life.
“Just let Joe pick you up,” he says. “I’m having enough nightmares as it is about how porous your apartment building is.”
I bite my lip. I love my apartment, and the building, and the fact that I live in a cute old walk-up. “Fine.”
“I’ll send you his number so you can call whenever you need him.” When I don’t answer he continues, “I’m probably going to work a little later than I planned tonight.” There is a regretful note in his voice. “But I’ll call you.”
“Sure,” I reply, disappointed. “See you whenever.”
He sighs. “Where are you now?”
Almost there,” I tell him.
“Good,” he says. “I’ll see you soon.”
AT the Gilt building, instead of heading towards the elevator bank, I walk across the lobby, past the waiting areas, towards the gallery. Here, pictures from Gilt’s history line the walls. There are black-and-white daguerreotype kind of images from the turn of the century when Francois Gilte, a French publisher with unproven stories of being descended from aristocrats, arrived in New York to launch a fashion and style magazine, the first incarnation of Gilt Style. After a few years of immense success, he’d gone bankrupt and lost the magazine to a corporation, but he was retained as the editor-in-chief, and Gilt continued to grow, adding more publications to its stables.
I move from picture to picture, the iconic editors over the years, women who’d ruled New York fashion with one look, word, or preference for an accessory. I’d grown up reading about them in Aunt Jacie’s issues of Gilt style. There are pictures of models, actors, society women, even renowned authors, long before they were famous, being honored for their stories in the Gilt Review.
There is something about being at Gilt, I think, as I study the pictures. It’s like being a part of history, of creating art that touches millions. Even if I never ended up at the Review, I doubted that working at some other literary magazine would ever feel as good as being in the Gilt family.
“Rachel.”
I turn around and see Chelsea eyeing me with concern. “I saw you on my way to the elevators. She eyes the pictures. “Hobnobbing with the ancestors?”
I wrinkle my nose. “Yeah.”
She smiles. “It’s awesome, isn’t it? Well, the history, not the actual being here. But it’s better than someone trying to talk me into a season of Rich Kids of Kentucky.” She shudders.
“You’d look awesome on TV, though.”
She makes a gagging sound. “Never.” She peers at one of the pictures. “One of these women once described my mother as a heifer in diamonds,” she says with an uncaring shrug, then turns to look at me. “I saw a picture of you on some gossip site, kissing Landon Court outside the Remington House.” She peers at me. “You guys made up?”
I nod.
“Good.” She narrows her eyes. “I still want to go clubbing, whether you’re miserable or not. When are we going?”
I sigh, ashamed of having forgotten. Chelsea’s refusal to toe the line of idle heiress meant that she didn’t have many friends among people like her. She found most society people boring after a while, but that didn’t stop her from being lonely. “I’m sorry,” I say remorsefully, making an apologetic face. “I forgot, but we should go sometime this week. I’ll tell Laurie.”
Chelsea nods, satisfied. I am too, glad of the opportunity to make plans that don’t include Landon. For someone who couldn’t be counted on for the kind of long-term commitment I craved, I was in danger of making him the center of my life. I needed to go out with the girls, hang out and have fun without the shadow of my feelings hanging over my mind.
Chelsea starts to tell me about her flirtation with her hot neighbor. She still suspects him of being some sort of security specialist hired by her dad to protect her from would-be kidnappers. We’re still talking when we get to our floor and exit the elevator. It’s still early, so there’s almost nobody around. We’re walking in the direction of our offices when a door opens and Jack Weyland walks into the corridor.
I’m surprised to see him. It’s only been a few days, but the time spent with Landon has pushed him out of my mind very completely. I remember our last meeting with a feeling that’s almost like embarrassment, and his expression goes from surprise to something like pain, before he gives us a small nod and walks in the opposite direction.
“What was that about?” Chelsea asks, her eyebrows going up.
“I have no idea,” I reply, feeling conflicted. Once again, there’s that feeling of loss, because every single feeling I’d ever had for him and every dream I built around us, ultimately ended in nothing. Even after everything he put me through, I can’t help but feel concern that I hurt him, but sadly, there’s absolutely nothing I can do about it.
LANDON calls in the afternoon to confirm that he’ll be working late. So when I’m done for the day, I do as he instructed and call Joe to pick me up and take me home. Laurie isn’t in yet, so I microwave my dinner, and watch some TV in solitude, before going to soak in the tub.
My mom’s call doesn’t surprise me. I knew that one way or the other she’d find out about Dylan’s visit. She chides me for not telling her he was around.
“You know I’d have loved to see him,” she frets.
“You saw him last weekend, mom,” I tell her. “And we were just hanging out.”
She sighs. Dylan is the one guy whose relationship with my mom is different from all the others. He’s the one who has had her wrapped around his little finger, from the moment he was born. “I get it,” she says. “At least I’m trying to. So, are you back together with Landon?”
The switch from Dylan to Landon takes me by surprise. “I… Yes. For now.”
“So it’s not serious?”
“I...I don’t know. Sometimes it feels like it could be.”
She sighs. “In other words, it’s what you want, but you’re not sure if he wants the same thing.”
I don’t reply.
She is silent for a long moment, probably wondering how she failed to pass the man-eater gene to me. “When you told me you guys were no longer together…” she sighs. “Sweetie, you shouldn’t let yourself get too emotionally involved with someone if it’s not the same for him.”
It’s too late. I’m already in love with him. “What if I’m already too involved?”
I hear her sigh. “It should never be about the man, sweetheart. It should be about how he makes you feel. If you’re not sure how he feels about you, how happy can you be?”
How happy can you be?
I leave the bath
after our conversation. For a while, I try to read, then give up when I can’t concentrate. When I’m with Landon, I am happy. Sometimes the cloud of uncertainty interrupts the happiness, but it’s nothing compared with the hollowness and pain I felt those few days when we weren’t together.
I can’t bear the thought of being without him again, or the knowledge that when the day finally comes for us to end, it won’t be my choice. It will be because he doesn’t want me anymore, or because I’ve asked for some kind of commitment that he can’t bring himself to make.
I fall asleep with all that on my mind, and I don’t even hear when Laurie comes in.
I wake up in the middle of the night to Landon, sliding into the bed with me. Before I can ask any questions, he pulls my body to his, plastering me against his warmth. He smells clean and fresh like he’s just had a shower, but his skin is warm and naked against mine.
“Hi,” I whisper, all my fears vanishing now that he’s here with me.
“Hi,” he replies before he lowers his head to kiss me.
His lips are sweet and warm against mine. I kiss him back, pressing my arms around his back to pull him closer. “I missed you today,” he says, when he frees my lips.
“When you weren’t bossing me around.”
He rolls on top of me, covering my body with his. “You’re the only boss in the room,” he whispers, trailing his lips from my chin to my neck. He pulls up the vest I’m wearing, and I lift my arms to help him pull it over my head. Then he lowers his head to my breast, his lips closing over one nipple. He sucks on it while cupping the other breast, rubbing my second nipple with the pad of his thumb.
Sensation takes over my body, and I’m instantly aroused. The familiar ache starts low in my belly and travels between my legs, and I move my hips, grinding my body against his. I part my legs, needing more than anything, for him to touch me, and as if he can read my mind, he obliges. One hand slides between us to cup my sex, stroking me through my underwear and making me moan in pleasure.
