Sapphire

by Jeffe Kennedy

  “Adam, what is this?”

  “A kitchen. People cook and sometimes eat here.”

  “I’m serious.”

  “Unfortunately, Taylor, you’re not.” He strode into the kitchen and pulled out a skillet with a sharp crack. “You just want to play your games with me and leave. No messy details. No consequences. Rebuild your ice palace and live in its sterile comfort.”

  “I thought last night was about your games.”

  “I told you—last night was about you. You’re refusing to see.”

  He drizzled olive oil into the skillet, crushed a clove of garlic and tossed it in. Taking her same mug from the cabinet, he filled it with coffee and nothing else and brought it to her.

  She took it, cupping the comforting warmth. “I don’t know what you want from me.”

  He crouched down in front of her, so their eyes were level. “Here’s the deal. I want you to spend the day with me. I want to feed you breakfast, take a long walk on the beach, then lie on the deck here in the sun and drink beer, then cook some steaks on the grill. I want to spend time with you.”

  “That wasn’t part of the original deal.” Taylor’s voice shook slightly, surprising her.

  “You and I both know that the original deal was simply a pilot project. I’m proposing the next level. Let’s explore some other potential business areas.” He brushed her knees with a soft touch. “Say yes.”

  “Your garlic is burning.”

  With a mild curse, he sprang up and went to rescue the garlic. He ended up dumping out the charred bits and starting over.

  Taylor nursed her second cup, thinking of those porn-for-women jokes. There he was, wildly handsome, in a black silk robe, making her an egg-white omelet with veggies and fresh herbs, exactly what she would have made herself. Why was she hesitating?

  Probably because he’d pried her open, making her scream with pleasure at the most degrading acts. That might have something to do with it. He’d called her life sterile and, if she was honest with herself, it was. She liked it that way. Clean. No surprises. Nothing to make the neighbors call Social Services.

  “You haven’t answered,” he remarked.

  “I’m thinking.”

  “Always a bad sign for me.”

  “Yes, I’m sure you prefer your submissive bimbos not to think.”

  He raised an eyebrow but didn’t comment.

  “Maybe I have appointments today.”

  He shrugged. “Cancel them.”

  “Difficult, when my phone is held hostage.”

  He pulled open a drawer, extracted her clutch and brought it to her along with the steaming omelet. Sitting opposite her in the nook, Adam dug into his half of the omelet with relish.

  Taylor checked her visual voicemail. Several messages—all work-related, of course. Suddenly she was sorry she’d looked. She thumbed the phone off and set it aside. The omelet tasted hot and savory and perfect. She’d never had breakfast with a man the morning after, much less one the man cooked. Of course, she’d never before stayed for the morning after. Instead of awkward, there was something kind of lovely about it.

  “I’m not walking on the beach in this robe,” she pointed out.

  He grinned at her, a wash of genuine pleasure crossing his face. “We’ll find you something.”

  His jeans were too big for her, so they hung a bit loosely. He handed her the blue lace panties, which he’d rinsed out and dried in the sun on the deck. Apparently he’d gone in to pick up the detritus of their all-night session in the library, a fact that relieved her in an odd way.

  She hadn’t really wanted to face it in the light of day.

  Between the oversized blue jeans, the plaid flannel shirt and the sweatshirt he gave her, she felt like those girls in college who wore their boyfriend’s clothes around. It had seemed stupid then, but now she indulged herself, smelling him on the clothes. She understood the romance of it.

  Then he came in, fastening the buckle of that black leather belt. Blood rushed up into her head. She had screamed when he lashed her with it. Cried and begged for more. He caught her eye with a slow smile, as if he heard her every thought.

  “See?”

  To remind her of what passes between you in the darkest, most intimate moments.

  Like she needed reminding.

  Taylor stuck her hands in the roomy jeans pockets and studiously looked away. Then he was cupping her face, plumbing her depths with a soft, searching kiss.

  “You are indescribably beautiful when you blush,” he whispered.

  She looked up at his gold-flecked eyes, something in her bleeding through the cracks he’d opened.

  “I’m out of my depth, I think.” She said it like a confession.

  He smiled, almost sad. “Everyone of us is, darling. You’re just starting to realize it.”

  They took the steps down from his deck, wending their way down the steep hillside to the beach below. Taylor went carefully in her bare feet, but the sun-warmed sand felt good on her soles. The double layer of shirts he’d given her broke the cool wind off the ocean.

  Adam took her hand and she let him, feeling even more like the teen she’d never really been. They strolled idly, stopping often to look at shells. He went barefoot, too, and coaxed her into rolling up her jeans and splashing in the surf with him.

  “You know a lot about shells,” she said when he showed her a broken nautilus and explained how the spirals followed the golden rule of geometry.

  He shrugged. “I studied biology in college—always kind of wanted to be a marine biologist. Or one of those hermit naturalists who lives in a cabin and draws pictures of pinecones.”

  Taylor laughed, surprised. “But you accidentally got an MBA and became a corporate tycoon. Damn, Adam, what happened to you?”

  He tucked his hands in his front pockets and glanced at her sideways. “The money. Money lets you control your life. You understand that, I think.”

  Yes, she did.

  “Hey look!” He pounced on something on the sand and spun with it. Sun glittered off the slimy whatever-it-was. “It wants to kiss you!”

  Taylor squealed and ran, laughing so hard she couldn’t breathe. Adam caught her and spun her around, stealing a breathless kiss with lips salty from sea spray.

  “We probably look like a magazine ad.” She couldn’t remember ever being this silly.

  “I’m sure they’d kill to photograph you, with your auburn hair whipping in the wind and your blue, blue eyes sparkling like this. You look so delicious I want to strip you naked right here and take you facedown in the sand. The belt would work to bind your hands.”

  Heat flashed through her at the image. There weren’t many people on the beach, but there were some couples strolling. A group of kids struggling to keep a kite aloft in the mercurial wind. A woman watching a little dog poop, her plastic bag ready.

  “You can’t,” she whispered, her throat tight. “There are too many people around. I wouldn’t let you.”

  His eyes lit with that now familiar feral light.

  “Is that a challenge, Taylor? I can see M is excited by the idea. I think you would let me.”

  “No,” she answered, careful. “You promised you wouldn’t publicly humiliate me.”

  He slid a hand up under the flannel shirt to stroke her naked breast. She sighed and closed her eyes, her body rising to his touch.

  “It’s an enticing thought, though,” he said, holding her close so no one saw him fondle her. “Don’t you think?”

  Taylor buried her face in his shoulder. She had no idea what she thought anymore.

  Without further comment, he released her and took her hand again, just another couple strolling on the beach. Her blood cooled as they walked. The man had an almost magical power over her and she didn’t know what to make of that.

  “So, which part of last night most aroused you?” he asked her, as if inquiring after her favorite movie.

  She cast him a quick glance. “I don’t think I care to
discuss it.”

  He nodded. “You prefer that I take the decisions from you, so you can pretend that you don’t crave what I do to you.”

  “I thought I said I didn’t want to discuss it.”

  “I heard you. And I can feel you squirming inside. You’re a private woman, accustomed to keeping people out. I like cracking those walls, seeing the naked woman there. The one who turns hot and sticky-sweet at the sight of my belt.”

  She blew out a long breath and declined to answer.

  They turned, starting the long walk back to his place, silent for a while, except when Adam remarked here and there on the people, a golden retriever getting gleefully soaked in the waves.

  “So, because you couldn’t have the marine biology or the hermit cabin, you live as close to the ocean as you can?”

  He tipped his head in acknowledgment. “The best of all worlds.”

  “Do you regret it—giving it up?”

  He considered her question. “Sure I do. But my life isn’t over yet. I have plans.”

  “Like what?”

  He flashed her a grin. “I think you’ve asked me more questions about myself in the last half hour than in all the months we’ve known each other.” She felt the blush heat her cheeks, and he wound his warm fingers around hers. “I like it.”

  He tipped his head back to the sun, the wind whipping his short dark curls. “I’m thinking treasure ships in the Caribbean. Historical salvage, maybe. Especially if I can come home to a gorgeous redhead in a string bikini on the deck of my ship.”

  “She’d likely have work of her own to do,” she said before she thought.

  But Adam smiled easily. “As long as she’s wearing the bikini, I’m good with that.”

  The deck felt hot with sunshine after the brisk beach. Clear panels broke the wind, as did the trees that thrust up from the hillside below.

  He pulled out a couple of Adirondack loungers with vivid red cushions, strategically angling them toward the sun.

  “Go ahead and get comfortable. I’ll grab some beer.”

  “Can I have wine instead?”

  “White?”

  “If you have it.”

  “Anything for you, darling M.” Adam framed her face with his hands and kissed her thoroughly, giving her a delighted smile. “You look good on my deck. You’ll look better undressed.”

  “I don’t have a bikini here,” she reminded him, “and I really doubt any of yours will fit me.”

  “Ha-ha. None needed—this deck is very private. Perfect for naked sunbathing.”

  “Um, naked?”

  “Are you too shy?” He raised his eyebrows in mock concern. “Afraid I’ll see something I’ve missed so far? Maybe I should look.”

  She sighed, impatient. “No. I just…”

  He tucked his thumbs in his belt, looking pleasantly inquiring while his fingers tapped it, thoroughly distracting her and sending that illicit heat through her groin.

  “Fine,” she muttered. “But there are bits of me that haven’t ever seen the sun.”

  “That’s okay,” he replied, ever cheerful. “I have sunscreen.”

  Adam went inside, whistling. This affectionate, playful man had her off-kilter. He seemed nothing like the sleek predator who’d neatly outmaneuvered her into all this.

  Taylor surveyed the area. The neighbors were all set back, so couldn’t look in on them. When she sat, the beach wasn’t visible. Hot already, she pulled off the sweatshirt and folded it neatly on a bench. Glancing around again, she unbuttoned the shirt and set it beside her chair, then scooted out of the jeans. The blue silk panties were as modest as some bikinis, she supposed, as long as she didn’t turn over.

  The sun hit her skin, melted gold pouring over her. Almost purring with pleasure, she lay back, stretching her arms over her head.

  “What a lovely invitation,” Adam said from behind her. He set down a crystal bucket overflowing with ice, studded with a bottle of chardonnay and several beers. “Stay just like that.” The order in his tone flickered through her, setting her blood alight.

  She startled a little when he slipped the leather belt around her wrists, fastening them to the chair over her head. Her heart pounded at the sensation, breath shortening. She tried to look as though it didn’t affect her.

  “I won’t be drinking much wine this way.” She kept her voice light. She didn’t ask what all he thought he’d do to her on the deck. They might be screened, but this was still pretty damn public.

  “Relax, Taylor, it’s just for the sunscreen. Can’t have you wiggling too much.” He came around, shucking out of his shirt and jeans. His cock rested, full and lengthened but still at half-mast, against his thigh. It jumped, though, when he took a good look at her. “Dear God, you’re a gorgeous woman. It’s tempting to keep you tied up and naked, just for the decorative effect.”

  He sat next to her on the lounger. “No panties, though, I think. Wouldn’t want them to get soiled.”

  Hooking his thumbs in the lace, he drew her panties down with excruciating slowness, brushing her sex and thighs with hot fingers as he did. He looped the panties over the neck of one of the beer bottles. They hung there, lurid, while he flashed her a wicked smile. “My trophy,” he informed her.

  He poured a bit of the sunscreen into his palm and rubbed his hands together. Bending over her, he brushed careful thumbs over her cheekbones and up over her brows. She closed her eyes, as much to the intensity of his gaze as to avoid the sting of the lotion. It heated in the sun, melting into her skin with each brush of his fingertips over her forehead to her hairline, her temples, the bridge of her nose and smoothing down her cheeks and jawline.

  Relaxing back, she let him minister to her. He coated her slowly, thoroughly, her throat, shoulders, the sensitive hollow of her arms, over both sides of her bound arms, massaging even the delicate muscles in her hands.

  By the time he’d worked his way back to her collarbone and descended to her breasts, she’d gone from simmer to slow boil. Intent, he rubbed the sunscreen over the globes, tweaking her nipples. When she squirmed, he raised an eyebrow.

  “We need to be especially careful of the bits that haven’t seen the light of day.”

  He smoothed lotion down her sides, belly and hips. When he asked her to open her legs, so he could be sure to cover her tender inner thighs, she obeyed, almost shy for him to see how aroused he’d made her. But he didn’t touch her swollen sex.

  “An appetizer for later.” He smiled at her, popping the cap back on the tube. He reached up and freed her hands, then coiled the belt to rest on the table between them. “Would you like a glass of wine now?”

  “Wait—what about you?”

  “I’ll have a beer.”

  “No.” She felt impulsive and wicked. Not herself at all. “You need sunscreen too.”

  He eyed her with a flash of heat. She’d surprised him. And in that crack, she caught a glimpse of something. Something to mull over.

  “Okay,” he agreed, “but you don’t get to tie my hands.”

  “Can’t take what you dish out?” She knelt up on the lounger, taking the sunscreen from the table. He watched her every move, then frowned at her words, considering.

  “Maybe someday. For now things have to be this way.”

  “You don’t trust me?”

  “I want to.”

  Moving slowly, sensuously, Taylor straddled Adam as he lay back, arms stretched over his head. She held herself up a little so he could feel the heat of her sex, but only just. Mirroring his seduction, she indulged herself, spreading the sunscreen over the long lines of his body. His skin heated in the sun, too, absorbed the slick lotion, moving under her hands.

  She worked her way down his body, caressing every inch of him, savoring the grimaces that flashed across his face, though he tried to keep his expression calm. She began to see how he did it. So many revealing expressions. The purse of a lip, the twitch of an eyelid. When she wrapped her oiled hands around his cock, he nearly
leaped out of the lounger.

  “Maybe we should have tied you up,” she taunted him.

  He renewed his grip on the top bar of the redwood frame. “Taylor…” His voice sounded ragged. She stroked him, slowly, adding a bit of pressure, and smiling with delight when he groaned.

  “What, Mr. Kirliss? Is there something I can do for you?”

  He opened his eyes a crack. “I’ve created a monster.”

  “You have no idea,” she assured him, arranging his raging hard-on so it lay on his flat belly. Scooting back over to her lounger, she grabbed a wineglass and the bottle on her way. She poured some wine and relaxed back. “You were right. This is fun.”

  He laughed, snagging a beer and popping the top. “I always am, darling.” He grinned.

  Taylor couldn’t recall ever whiling away an afternoon, but this had to be what it was like. She grew pleasantly buzzed in the warmth of the sunshine and Adam’s regard. He told her funny stories about his early days in enterprise. How he’d built—and immediately lost—his first company. After a time he dragged over the umbrella, to keep them from turning into lobsters, he announced. Made cozier by the shade, they lay on their loungers only inches apart, talking lazily.

  She must have drifted off, because she awoke to a cooling evening, the smell of a mesquite grill and a chill on her skin. Snagging her panties from their cockeyed perch on an empty beer bottle, she wiggled into them, then pulled on the jeans and flannel shirt.

  Adam was just around the bend, tending to a smoking grill.

  He smiled and held out an arm to her. She’d walked into his embrace and stood on tiptoes for his welcoming kiss before she thought about it. Unaccustomed happiness poured through her, followed by a ripple of unease.

  “Good nap?”

  “Yes—wine and sun. Recipe for sleepiness.”

  “Along with a long night. We’ll make tonight less…vigorous. We can work more on patience and trust.” That wicked smile stirred her blood, but some of it congealed in her gut. Letting go of some control was one thing—jumping into the deep end something else altogether.

  “I didn’t say I’d stay tonight.”

  He shrugged, nonchalant. “Seems the perfect way to end a wonderful day to me.”