She blushed, her eyes darting away. “It’s not very private.”
He flipped a button and the entire glass door tinted instantly. “Instant privacy,” he said, waving his hand like he was presenting a magic trick. “I like to give the illusion of everything being open, but really it’s pretty easy to find some privacy. Even without walls.”
“I feel a lot better. I can go home.” Libby was nodding her head, trying not to look over at the spa-like shower calling her name.
“You could,” he said with a shrug. “But does your shower do this?” he asked as the streams of water shot to life, steam instantly pouring out of the door.
“My water heater is fifty years old. If you flush the toilet when the shower is on the sun explodes.”
“Exactly,” he said, grabbing her hand and pulling her to her feet. “I’ll go to the kitchen and start the toast.”
When he walked away she felt helpless against the urge to watch him go. As stressful as her life had been in the past, she’d never had this type of conflict raging in her before. In her head she always knew she had to give up things she cared about for the greater good. Usually someone else’s greater good. Libby rationalized herself out of any kind of personal indulgence. But this morning was different. Waking up in his bed. Smelling his scent while only his thin cotton shirt separated their bodies. She wanted to quit her job. To tell him to take her now. Well, after her shower and a thorough brushing of her teeth he should take her.
Slipping out of his shirt, she moved quickly into the shower, covering her body as she did. Just in case. It felt ridiculous to want him so badly yet still blush at the idea of him catching a glimpse of her naked body.
He hadn’t exaggerated. The shower felt like a baptism. Maybe it was all the jets, the scorching heat, or the dim lights, but she felt like every ache and worry went down the drain.
“It’s good, right?” his voice called from just outside the shower, and she covered herself with her hands even though she knew he couldn’t see her.
“I feel so much better,” she called over the glass door. “I can’t thank you enough.”
“I’ll leave your toast out here. There’s a robe on the hook; go ahead and use it.”
“Okay,” she said, finally dropping her hands back down. “Are you leaving or something?”
“I might run out. Give you some actual privacy if you want it.”
“I don’t,” she said quietly, half hoping he didn’t hear her.
“What do you want?” he asked, and she could hear his hopeful smile.
“The opposite of privacy,” she said, trying to sound confident, but the words came out more like a question.
“Really?” he challenged.
“Yes,” she said with a giggle. “I know you said . . .” she trailed off. “And I know I said . . .” She could see his hand on the door, ready to open it. “Your rule and I need the job. Nothing has changed really. I get that but—”
“But,” he said as he pulled the door open. He’d already pulled off all his clothes. “Nothing is different, nothing is figured out or changed, but I have to have you.”
Her hands instinctively flew up to her face, covering her mouth. It was as though he’d just crawled inside her head and read her mind.
As they stood there in silence for a moment she couldn’t look at him full on. He was like no man she’d ever been with before. His body was sculpted into the sharpest edges of muscle. She hadn’t glanced below his waist even though something substantial was trying to draw her eye.
“You look less convinced now that I’m in here,” he challenged, stepping under the stream of hot water.
“I’m convinced.” She reached a hand up to his chest and touched him, worried he was some kind of dream or hologram. Could anyone really look like this? “I want to feel good,” she admitted as he pushed his hardness against her. “For like a minute I don’t want to be worried or responsible. Something just for me.”
He had this devilish grin on his face that made her worry she’d said something stupid. Out of practice would be a label she could accurately wear. Maybe she was making a fool of herself.
“It’ll be longer than a minute; a hell of a lot longer.”
“James,” she said in a husky voice she hardly recognized, “make me feel good. Make me feel.”
As he dropped to his knees and kissed his way down her body, the hot water continued to pour on both of them. His tongue teased the peaks of her breasts, then his teeth nibbled lightly, sending her back into a sharp arch.
His hands clutched her ass as he slid to his knees, the water pounding hard against his solid back. She felt like a fool, like a bumbling idiot who wasn’t sure where to put her hands. Shouldn’t she be doing something right now? Something besides panting and shaking and cursing hot sexy words into the steam?
“Relax,” he said, looking up at her with his mouth hovering over her ready folds. She wanted to answer, to say something, anything, but as his tongue finally swirled against her, she lost all ability to speak. A small squeak of pleasure burst from her mouth as instinct took over. Her hands disappeared into his hair, and she tugged at it more forcibly than she meant to. As his tongue flicked and his mouth sucked, she wondered how her body was supposed to stay in one piece. How was anyone meant to stand this?
“Faster,” she heard herself demand, but any other words were cut short by a flow of pleasure as his fingers joined the feverish movements, bringing her to the brink of ecstasy. Clutching tightly to his hair, she held on for dear life as she pushed past any barrier she’d ever built against indulgence. This was sheer unadulterated pleasure, meant just for her.
Clawing one hand down his neck and digging her nails into his back, she arched forward as her body begged for more. “James,” she screamed slapping her other hand to the tile wall of the shower. His tongue maneuvered around her like a sharpened skate on sleek ice, gliding its way in perfect circles. Then with sudden ferocity his mouth became demanding, owning her with forceful flicking and sucking that replaced the last sense of pleasure with something outside the realm of her understanding.
Her body tightened around his finger that plunged deep at just the right moment. When all his touches pulled away at once, she moaned in desperate disappointment. Before she could form any pleading words, he stood and, with a forceful thrust, pushed his full hard length inside her. The animalistic grunt that escaped his lips drove into her mind like a spike into a railroad tie. Sliding his hands down her back and clutching her legs, he lifted her from the ground effortlessly. As her ankles laced behind his back her arms tangled around his neck, and he continued to plunge into her.
This was a soul-splitting pleasure she’d never imagined existed. Not only was he wracking her body with pulsing ecstasy, but the way he held her up, held her high and tight in his arms, made her feel like she’d never need to put her feet on the ground again. She’d never have to walk another day in her life. He’d hold her here forever, and she’d never want to leave.
Waves of heat rolled through her as steam filled the shower. Her core tightened around him, and she tipped her head back and screamed his name. The sound of her voice echoing around the slate walls seemed to stir something in him. Hearing his name fall from her mouth with such inhibition made his grip grow fierce and his movements wild.
“Yes,” she breathed into his ear as she tugged a fistful of his hair. “Take me James,” she begged him. She demanded it of him. And again her words emboldened him. Grunts, moans, and gasps slammed into each other as he climaxed, his grip crushing her. Crushing her back together, back to one piece. Back to whole.
Chapter 15
Normally when a woman lay across his chest after sex James felt like an animal caught in a snare. But here, lying with Libby, her hair splayed across him, he’d never felt freer in his life. She shifted a few times, adjusting her weight, and he held her in place, not wanting it to end.
Tracing a finger up and down her back, touching a small scar on
her shoulder blade, he couldn’t hold the question back. “You said someone hurt you.” Rolls of anger flooded him at the thought.
“A long time ago,” she dismissed, turning her head and kissing his chest lightly. “Who hasn’t been hurt really? What does it matter?”
“Depends what kind of hurt,” he said, watching for a wince or a flutter on her face that would tell him all he needed to know. His finger danced on the small jagged scar again.
“Can I tell you something?” she asked, propping herself up on her elbow and flipping her hair away. He missed it the second it was gone from his body.
“You can tell me anything.” His eyes were on her face, flexing his skill to see even the smallest tell. A face could give away so much if you knew what you were looking for. And James did.
“Before just now, I’ve never, um . . . That was the first time—” He cut her words off as he sat up slightly.
“You were a virgin? I couldn’t tell. Why didn’t you tell me?” He ran a hand through his hair, trying to comprehend how a woman like her might have saved herself and why she’d given herself to him so freely.
“No,” she laughed, rolling her head back as though he were being ridiculous. “I’m not a virgin. I’ve been in relationships. I’ve had sex. I’ve just never, you know . . .” She squirmed away nervously. “Enjoyed it.”
“You’ve never orgasmed before?” He coughed out the words as though the idea choked him.
“Not with anyone else,” she admitted sheepishly. “Like not when I was—” Her stutter reminded him of how sweet she was. How special. Very few women who’d been in his bed would have struggled to talk openly about their sex lives. Those women were very open. Nothing left to the imagination. But Libby was shrouded with mystery and innocence that he was aching to peel back.
“But you have by yourself.” He grinned, the image of her pleasuring herself bringing him half erect again. The blush in her cheeks was making his heart race.
“Yes,” she said, burying her face in her hands. “I know how lame that sounds. I must sound like such a loser.”
“What kind of stupid selfish pricks were you sleeping with that couldn’t stop long enough to get you off too? Guys like that should be castrated.”
“In their defense, I put on a pretty good show sometimes. I’m a good actress.”
“But that,” he said glaring at her, “that was very real.”
“Impossible to fake something like that,” she assured, still covering her face partially until he gently pulled her hand away.
“The scar,” he said, running his hand over it again. “What’s it from? What happened?”
“It’s such a long story, James.” She flopped her head onto his chest, and he lay down, so glad this moment wasn’t over.
“I have time; tell me.” His hand ran under the line of her chin, bringing her darting eyes back to his.
“Why? What does any of it matter?” she argued, and he could hear the fear in her voice. That was the secret she didn’t want to give away.
He spoke softly as he raked his eyes over her face. “You said you and I are completely different. I think you’re right. I don’t understand you. Why do you allow yourself to be last? You take the soggy sandwich on the catering tray at every meeting. Why do you apologize when someone bumps into you? I have done some pretty harsh shit and have never uttered an apology. I want to understand.”
“My father died when I was seventeen,” she said, like the words had been fermenting at the back of her throat for ages. “I was lost. He was so good at everything, so strong. There were so many things I didn’t have to learn because he was there to help me. But then suddenly he wasn’t.”
“How did he die?” James asked, staring at the ceiling now as she spoke, not wanting to spook her with a full-on stare.
“An accident. He was killed on the job.”
“I’m so sorry. That’s awful.” He considered asking what he did for a living, what had happened, but he knew if Libby wanted to talk about it she would. With any luck there would be many more conversations like this in the future where she would open up to him.
“Well, I started working after that. I wanted to help, so I took shifts at a coffee shop. I met this guy. He paid a lot of attention to me. He said things to me I’d never heard before, and we started dating. He was six years older than I was. He had this whole life planned, and I had nothing planned. I wanted to be a part of what he had. I wanted to get away from my mother who was so sad all the time. Things were good at first.” She picked her head up and shook it as though she’d just realized something. “No, you know what, there’s no point in lying to myself anymore. It wasn’t right, even from the start. But I had these blinders on. I ignored things that felt wrong. I made excuses. I so badly wanted to take the first train out of my own life.”
“It happens. I’ve seen plenty of girls go through that phase. Hell, I’ve been that phase for them.” He was trying to soften the tension that was growing in the room. There was no way this story was going to get lighter than it was right now, and the thought of her unhappy was already throwing a rock in his stomach.
“If my dad had been alive he’d have seen right through Corey. He never would have let me stay with him. He was like you. My father could spot someone like that from a mile away. I didn’t inherit that skill.”
“It took years of meeting assholes to be able to pick them out in the crowd.” James wanted to wrap her up in the blankets, hold her in his arms, and never let her go. There were only a few times in his life he’d seen someone struggle with a deep pain, and he could tell she was in the midst of baring her soul to him.
“I moved in with him,” she sighed, “a few months after we started dating. I can’t remember exactly what I did. The bottom of a moving box broke, I think.” Her face twisted as she tried to recall the memory. “I didn’t tape it good enough. His friends were all there, and he just blew up on me. I mean dropping the c-word, screaming about me being stupid. The funny thing, what I should have picked up on, his friends never blinked an eye. Maybe they felt bad or something but not enough to stop him. They knew who he was. What I should have done right then was gather up my crap and move back home. But I couldn’t. I’d already told my friends about my awesome boyfriend. I felt so grown-up. I couldn’t go back no matter what.”
“How long were you together?” James asked, his blood boiling at the idea of someone screaming at her. Degrading Libby for an honest mistake.
“You’ll kick me out of your bed. You’ll think I’m pathetic,” she said, covering her face again. The instinct to hide from him only made him angrier at whoever had done this.
“I wouldn’t kick you out of this bed if your hair were made of bees.” One more time he gently pulled her hand gently away from her face.
“Three years,” she answered flatly.
“But you left. That’s what matters. I’ve known enough women in my life to know how hard that is.”
“No,” she said, wiping at her face again with a pathetic laugh, “I didn’t. He left me. And even after all he’d done, I begged him not to. I am the weakest person in the world. Have you ever heard anything so pathetic?”
“Don’t say that. You aren’t pathetic. You were a child. He had no business being with you in the first place. And don’t think he didn’t know exactly what he was doing, yelling at you, degrading you. I’m sure he knew how easy it was to break down a seventeen-year-old girl.”
“I’m sure he did,” she breathed out.
“It didn’t stop at the yelling did it?” James asked, feeling his hand ball into a fist.
“No,” she said simply. “It got worse. A lot worse.”
“What’s his last name?” James asked, drawing in a deep breath that kept him from jumping out of the bed and hunting the guy down right now.
“It doesn’t matter. I haven’t seen him for a couple of years. We have some old mutual friends and stuff, but he’s moved on. He’s not in my life anymore.”
“But he still hurt you.” That was a fact. A black and white truth that James would never allow her to rationalize away. No amount of time spent apart from him would absolve the bastard of what he’d done to this absolutely perfect woman who deserved to be treated like a precious gift, not dirt under a shoe.
“And it changed me. I can see that now. I was never this big outgoing personality, but I made myself smaller during that relationship. Quieter. My opinion didn’t matter. I started making sure I was doing everything I could for him. Heading off problems. I thought it was in my control. If I didn’t screw up, he wouldn’t blow up. And sometimes it worked. But I traded so much of myself in the process. And it doesn’t just come back when the relationship is over. The fear of doing something wrong, of letting someone down, of taking that good sandwich instead of the soggy one, is still there.”
“You don’t have to be afraid to take what you deserve,” he asserted, squeezing her tighter against him. “No one gets to tell you that you’re not worth it. I’d end anyone who thought they could.”
“I know you’re used to getting your way, but just because you say that, doesn’t make it true. It sounds so easy, but it’s not. You fixed yourself, built yourself back up the way that worked for you. I did the same for me. Do you think you could just change it all right now? Stop being who you are?”
He didn’t answer. The point was valid, but he knew she was wrong. It wasn’t enough to just take what you’re given, to accept any kind of treatment. “You can fight. You can demand more.”
“You can,” she resigned. “The whole world is at your feet. You just have to worry about you.”
“Who do you worry about? I know you need this money. That’s abundantly clear, but why?”
“My mother has early onset dementia. She’s in a home, one she really likes. It’s expensive, but if I move her, take her to something she’s not used to, I think she’ll die. My brother’s in college. He works, but he needs more. I send him what I can. I pay the mortgage on the house because I don’t want to lose it. It’s all I’ve ever known.”
The Barrington Billionaires Collection 1 Page 11
