Oh man, and this is why spending the night would be bad. We’d never leave his place.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, barely resisting the urge to jump his bones.
“Coffee.” He nods at the cup in my hand, from my favorite coffee shop close to the office. When I’ve had a sip, he takes it from me and places it in the cupholder. Cupping my nape, he pulls me to him, so that our mouths are almost touching. “And coffee,” he murmurs before pressing his lips to mine, kissing me like I didn’t only leave his place at the ass crack of dawn.
“So, my mom is in town today. She’s organizing a baby shower for Fran. Obviously, it’s got to be pretty low-key given the situation, but she’s going to be around for lunch, and I thought that…”
“Sure.”
“You don’t have to. But she wanted me to ask and—”
“I know I don’t have to, but seeing as I’ve slept under her roof and all…” My heart races frantically in my chest, the voice in my head warning me to slow down, but I guess after seeing her at the hospital and their interactions…I’m curious.
“I’ll have William make a reservation somewhere. Any suggestions?” He sounds as nervous as I am.
“Umm…I’m sure your PA knows better than me.”
The car stops about a block from the café where I’m meeting Lacie. Gerry opens my door, and I’m a little confused.
“I figured you wouldn’t want Lacie seeing you arrive in my car.”
I’m tempted to throw caution to the wind. “How much do you want Warner?”
“You better land that fucking baller fast.” He nips at my lips, before I get out of the car.
“See you at lunch, boss man.”
“See you later, little mouse.” He hands me my bright red purse that matches my heels. His eyes meander down my bare legs to my feet, and a devious grin cuts his face. “Nice shoes.”
“I’ll keep them on.” I head toward the little New England haven with the car trailing after me. As I walk in, I wink at him over my shoulder because two can play at the same game, right?
I’ve only just found Lacie when my phone chirps.
Damon: Only the heels.
A schoolgirl giggle escapes me, my cheeks flushing with warmth. And my body is already on timer for its next fix of him.
“Oh my God.” Lacie practically jumps out of her seat. Her arms engulf me in a tight hug. “It feels like I haven’t seen you in forever.”
“You’re a busy lady.” I take her in. She’s all tanned from her week on the East Coast seeing clients. “So, business first, catch-up after?”
Shaking out her copper waves over her shoulder, she rolls her eyes. “Honestly, I’m not sure what you expect me to tell you.”
She sits, opening up her monogrammed leather document folder. She takes out a couple of papers with handwritten notes.
“Here’s the thing, Monroe wants less. Schultz wants less too. Coldwell is taking a big cut…” She shrugs like it’s a no-brainer.
“We’re taking a bigger slice from a bigger pie, Lacie. And it’s so we can put more into it. You can’t compare what we’ve presented to anything Monroe or Schultz or any other publisher out there has.”
“Ava…”
“No. I know Monroe. I know their projections are nowhere close to ours, because they’re not willing to put everything into this, but the reality is that you can’t expect a lion to take the same bite as a mouse.”
I pause as my analogy sinks in. I’m starting to sound like Damon. Mice and lions. Bites and cuts…
“It’s my job as Callum’s agent to make sure that every risk pays off, that every investment has a return. It’s my job to be the bad guy so my client can be the great guy. And Callum…he’s not about the money or any of that superficial shit. He’s a normal guy that had to graft to get to where he is, even with his talent. He invests in people…”
“Lace, you can’t look at any of this as my friend. As someone who knows how Damon and I started out…”
“What?” she blurts, eyes narrowed on me as she sits straight in her seat.
Shit.
I take a deep breath and continue. “This is business, and we both know that Coldwell is the only publisher with the resources it will take to keep up with Callum’s profile…to expand it even.”
She glares at me, tapping her pen on her pad. She’s playing hardball, like I knew she would.
Eventually she pulls out the contract I sent her earlier in the week. Placing it on the table in front of me, she spins it to face me.
“He would’ve signed it without even reading it, that’s how much he’s bought into you.”
“What?”
“It’s yours, and not because you’re my best brat friend.” She rolls her eyes again. “Because you deserve it. You worked the hardest, and giving it to Marsh would’ve made me twitch into a seizure or something.”
I look through the document, page by page, still in disbelief that it’s signed because it’s the biggest deal I’ve ever made.
“Business over, now time for catch-up!” she announces, signaling the waitress for a top-up of our coffees. “What’s going on between you and asshat?”
Of course, my face glows and my excitement turns into nerves. “I’m meeting his mom today. Like really meeting her and not running from her home.”
“Well, I guess I already knew you were fucking, so it doesn’t matter that you skipped over that part.”
“You knew?”
“Babe, he pretty much told Callum to keep Holly away from you.”
“He did?”
“Not in so many words, but the message was clear with the way he barely kept himself from pouring your drink over her…” She pauses. “That was my fault, because Holly hates me and…anyway, the point is that for jerk, he totally didn’t care whether or not Callum would be pissed. He cared more about you, ergo, he’s either getting pussy or he wants to get pussy.”
“Really?”
“I wasn’t wrong, was I?” She marks me with a challenging grin. “I don’t hate him, and I don’t like him. My opinion of him doesn’t fucking matter so long as he doesn’t fuck you over again. But if he does, I’ll cut his balls off and feed them to him…in front of a camera so he has that treasure for the rest of his life.”
I’m not sure if I find it funny or petrifying, but regardless, I nod. “Okay.”
She goes on to ask me all about my freak-out in the Hamptons, and by the time we leave, I’m actually looking forward to meeting Elizabeth properly. Especially with how much Fran talked about her.
Chapter Nineteen
AVA
Elizabeth Coldwell is beautiful. Brown eyes as dark as her son’s and the same golden complexion. She’s a smiler, and I like that her smile brings out his. Her long silver hair is up in a neat ponytail, her lips are glossed over a light mauve, and although she has an air about her that screams money, she’s in a simple black sweater with slightly puffy cap sleeves and black jeans. She’s only a tad shorter than me, even in my stilettos.
“I’ll see you soon.” Palming Damon’s face, she smiles around his shoulder at me. And as he helps her into a cab, they share a short conversation filled with sharp whispers and a definitive huff from Damon at the end. Still, they part with a kiss that leaves me feeling homesick for my own mother.
“Okay,” Damon sighs, standing back to watch the taxi drive off. “Time to celebrate.”
He steps back, eyes roaming down my light blue-and-white pinstriped shirt, lingering on the few open buttons and the flesh they expose. As they meander over the high cummerbund waist of my navy skater skirt, he takes a half step back and follows my bare legs down to my bright red shoes.
“See something you like?”
“Not yet.” His finger hooks into the top of my skirt, pulling me to him. “But you can rectify that.”
My stomach dips and twists at his devious smirk. Just like that, I’m primed and ready for anything he wants to do to me. And when he kisses me, eve
rything around us disappears. It’s like we’re standing on the surface of the sun, and God, I’m burning up.
His driver arrives and rather than heading to the office, he takes us straight to Damon’s place. His apartment is everything you’d expect from a rich, single guy who likes his privacy. The walls are thick concrete with floor-to-ceiling windows. The floors are polished stone, and everything is so utilitarian, but there are odd bits, like these huge canvases boasting blue open waters and gold sand and large driftwood sculptures…all things that remind me of the warmth of his parents’ home.
“This is beautiful.” I pause in front of a long panoramic painting of a beach going through all the seasons. It starts off faint and light with the depth of colors darkening the farther down the corridor we go. The last quarter is my favorite. The blue and gray hues become purples and black with crackles of gold and silver-speckled white.
It takes me back to the lobster shack. Our first date. It’s sort of crazy that it was almost a month ago, and somehow it feels like it’s been longer.
“My mom painted it.” He traces a lightning bolt with fond contentment.
I can only watch him with how my heart swells, making it feel like it’s lodged in my throat. There are all these sides to this man, and some are dark and ruthless like the storm in the painting, and then there are others that are so light they make you feel as though you are on a constant high.
Damon is so capricious in his temperament, but it’s all driven by his intense care and love.
He turns to me, his brown eyes rich, molten chocolate, holding so much promise and so much affection that I can’t deny it anymore. I can’t pretend that I don’t feel it. My heart has never felt so full and achy and happy…because he owns me. Because…
“Shit,” he curses, reaching for his ringing phone. “I need to take this.”
“That’s okay.” I watch him walk toward his office.
“Grayson…” he answers it, looking back at me as he closes the door.
DAMON
Dex leaves the call. I know he’s pissed that I’m changing the plan. But Fran is right—it’s not up to him. This is my call. My decision. He may be VP, but I’m the boss, and he needs to remember that.
“Are you sure about this?” Worry tinges Grayson’s question. “Dex is worried you’re making a mistake.”
Chuckling, I brush off his question as I open the office door. “Dex is always worried.”
The apartment smells of burnt sugar and cinnamon, and there’s a deliciously nutty undertone that makes my mouth water. I’m not sure how long I’ve been on the phone, but it’s getting dark and Ava’s in the kitchen. Her long hair is piled messily on her head. She’s got her thick framed glasses on as she fawns over the skillet.
My kitchen has only ever been that messy when Mom and Fran have used it. There are jars of things I didn’t even know were in my cupboards. She’s made herself right at home, and I like it.
“I’m sure,” I tell Grayson, leaning over the breakfast bar.
Ava turns toward me with a soft grin on her face as I take in the chocolate spread and the peanut butter jars.
“Hey,” she mouths, opening the oven and sliding the skillet in before she grabs another jar and comes to lean over the counter in front of me so that we’re face-to-face. Removing her glasses, she drops them on the counter between us.
“All right, I’ll send the paperwork over.” Grayson blows out a long breath while I watch Ava sweep her little finger into the jar and suck the fluff clean off it.
She knows what she’s doing with her lusty smirk and gleaming eyes.
“This doesn’t get out. Understood?”
“Yup.” He hangs up and I drop my phone on the counter between Ava and me.
“Sounds ominous.” Her remark is throaty and all kinds of sultry. It’s got a real fuck-me edge to it that with her finger licking, it’s got my dick bulging in my pants.
“Business always is.”
“Because you’re underhanded and you do what it takes to get your way.” Coming closer, her nose touches mine, and when she licks her lips, the tip of her tongue skims the seam of my mouth.
“What’s the point of going into something if I’m not prepared to do what it takes to get what I want out of it?”
“So competitive, Mr. Coldwell.” Teasing, she sweeps a fluff-covered finger over my lips.
I resist the urge to lick it off, rounding the breakfast bar to stand in front of her. I notice she’s still wearing her heels. Her long sleeves are rolled all the way up to her elbows with her bangles pushed as far up as they’ll go too.
Rocking up onto her toes with her finger in her mouth, she presses her body to mine. Her breath shallows and her eyes widen, and when her hips touch mine, an almost silent groan vibrates from her lips as she licks mine clean.
“It’s not a competition if I always win.”
A low laugh bubbles up her throat as she steps away and turns the oven off. Before she has a chance to get away, I pull her back to me.
“What are you making?”
“Dinner.” She shrugs.
“Doesn’t smell like dinner.”
“We’re celebrating, right? We can have fluffernutters for dinner. They’re my favorite.”
Her fingers trail my lips, and when I suck one into my mouth, she practically disintegrates in my arms.
“You’re going to ruin dinner, boss man.” Not that she gives an actual fuck about it with the way she’s grinding her groin onto my throbbing erection.
“I going to ruin your cunt.”
Her cheeks flush, but in complete contrast her hands scramble to unbutton my shirt. She manages the first couple of buttons, but when my hand slips beneath her skirt and my fingers fill her tight pussy, she yanks the last two.
Her body writhes on my hand with the most beautiful moans. I can’t rein myself in as I pull out of her clenching cunt and grasp her throat, pulling at her shirt with my other hand as I walk us to the couch.
Her hands hold tight to my wrist until I drop her on the back of the seat. Her face is flushed a dark crimson from my hold, her chest mottled with need and her perfect tits practically bursting from her bra.
Fuck.
“Take it all off,” I demand, trying to control my breath-robbed voice.
Ava does as she’s told without getting up. Her shirt, skirt, and bra pile on the floor. When it comes to her panties, she slips them down her thighs to her knees, letting them fall to her ankles, over those fucking shoes I haven’t stopped thinking about all day.
“Leave them.” Her hands rest on her thighs as she squirms on the black leather. “What are you waiting for?” She looks at me confused. “Undress me.”
Again, she does it without question. Dragging my shirt down my arms, she removes my monogrammed cufflinks with curiosity pinching her brow before moving on to my pants.
Startled eyes flash to mine. I guess she’s worked out what the H in my initials stands for. Henry.
Slipping off the back of the couch, she works my underwear down until I shuck it off with my slacks. Her hands push on my thighs as she stands, her wet lips grazing the head of my cock.
When she’s standing in front of me, I sit her back in her place. Swiveling her away from me, I nudge her off the back of the couch until she’s on her knees on the cushion. Her head falls back onto the leather still wet from her pussy. And her slim throat tightens with her swallow as my heavy erection bobs over her face.
“Open.” She does.
Ava’s mouth gapes open in a perfectly shaped O. Her tongue licks at her lips as I press it farther open with my thumb, her pretty neck straining as she cranes back. Her tits push up to the ceiling…
Fuck, she’s a sight unlike any other I’ve seen. And when I guide my cock into her mouth there isn’t the slightest protest, not even as I press past her gag reflex. Her hands claw at her thighs, and her nipples harden further. Her skin prickles with a million goose bumps.
“You think you can
take it all?” I thrust all the way in, watching my length stretch her throat, inch by inch, until it bottoms out. If I don’t pull out, she might pass out.
A loud gasp echoes around us as she devours air back into her lungs. My cock glistens with her spit. Her lips are a raw red from being stretched so wide, and her fucking eyes are a wild shade of lilac where the choked pink of the whites has stained the vibrant blue of her irises.
“Good little mouse,” I tease, tapping her cheek until her mouth falls open again, and as I thrust deep into her clenching throat, I lean over her, stroking through her dripping cunt until I find her clit.
I work her hard nub until her moans choke around my cock and she’s pushing at my hand.
“Behave.” I push deeper before I pull out.
Her tits tremble with her endless gasps, and her black-stained tears run into her dark hair.
Ava’s the hottest thing I’ve ever had, and I will do whatever it takes to make sure I’ll always have her.
“Fuck me,” she grunts, looking up at me. “Now.”
She sounds so hoarse, so fucking breathless, and so fucking mine that I can’t deny her. Lifting her from the couch, I help her stand in front of me. I take in her reddened eyes and her swollen lips, her lust-stained skin and her needy gasps.
So fucking perfect.
“I want you to fuck my pussy like you fucked my mouth,” she commands breathlessly.
I turn her round, bending her over the back of the seat. Her pert ass is at attention, her engorged lips glistening through her pressed thighs.
“Who says I want your cunt?” I run the tip of my cock through her folds to her crease, thrusting between the round globes of her ass.
Her panty-tied ankles cross as she folds completely over, her hands clenching at the edge of the seat cushion as her cheeks spread. Her asshole is so fucking tight as it clenches at the feel of my cock rounding it. She’s got no idea what I’d do to her.
Forbidden: A Romance Anthology Page 37
