by Serena Grey
It doesn’t take long before she shatters in a shuddering climax.
I pull my fingers out of her body, and she starts to curl up, still shuddering, but I spread her legs, rubbing my cock against the slick entrance to her body. She looks up at me, her eyes glazed and wanting.
In a moment, babe.
I slide into her tightness and my breath leaves me. She feels so good. So fucking good. With a sigh, she reaches up to stroke my chest as I surge deep into her.
The feeling is incredible.
Her muscles clench around me as I move, and she wraps her legs around me, urging me deeper.
I can still taste her on my lips, but I want more. I want so much more. She’s moaning softly, her body arching as pleasure overtakes her. I rock into her, losing more of myself with every thrust.
We climax at the same time. Her name escapes my lips as I come. It takes a moment to catch my breath, and I cover her body with kisses before lying down beside her.
She falls asleep in my arms, and after a while I drift off too, waking up a few hours later in the middle of a nightmare. I leave Rachel in bed, careful not to wake her, and spend the rest of the night focusing my mind and my thoughts in the familiar demands of my work.
Chapter 13
“What’s the plan for today?” It’s late in the morning, and after a very interesting hour together in the shower, Rachel is cuddled against me in bed, wrapped only in a towel.
I could get used to being like this with her.
I only have a few more days.
Smiling, I drop a quick kiss on her nose. “I already said I was going to spend all day fucking you.”
She giggles, and the tiny dimple on her right cheek dances in the bedroom light. “I’d probably be dead by lunchtime—though it wouldn’t be so bad, dying of pleasure.”
“I’d probably be the one dying from trying to keep up with you.” I’ve already arranged to spend the day alone with her. I owe her that after my disappearance and the whole fiasco with Weyland last night. “After breakfast, I have a few calls to make, then we’re going out.”
Her interest perks. “Out to where?”
My mind goes to the boat waiting for us in the bay. “It’s a surprise.”
She pouts prettily. “I hate surprises.”
“I’m sure you’ll like this one,” I say confidently.
We get dressed and have breakfast together out on the balcony. It’s a beautiful day, and it’s pleasant, just being with her. I have an unbidden image of the two of us, together in my apartment in New York. It feels inevitable, and desirable. Arresting the thought, I look up to find her gazing at me, a strange expression on her face.
I raise an eyebrow. “You want to tell me something?”
She shakes her head slowly. “No.”
“Then stop looking at me like that, or else I won’t be able to get anything done this morning.”
She turns back to her phone, making me wonder what she was thinking. I want to flatter myself that she was thinking along the same lines as me, imagining a future for us beyond this one week.
It’s a foolish line of thought. Impractical, too. There’s no room in my life for anyone permanent.
There isn’t.
I leave her after breakfast and work for a few hours. When I emerge from the library, I find her on the sofa, hard at work on her computer. Her hair is piled in a loose ponytail on top of her head as she frowns in concentration at her screen.
Standing at the doorway, I watch her silently. She’s not just beauty, she’s light, and for the first time in my life, I’m aware that if I fall any deeper for her, I’ll be lost.
As if she can feel my gaze, she turns in my direction. Her fingers hover over the keyboards, her cheeks stained with a barely visible flush.
“Are you going to say something?” Her voice is teasing and light. “Or are you going to keep looking at me like that?”
I cross my arms and lean against the wall behind me. “Looking at you how?”
She shrugs. “I don’t know, like you can see inside me.”
I chuckle. “Believe me, I wish I could.”
She looks puzzled, and her eyes follow me as I push off the wall and go to stand behind her, behind the sofa. Gently, I stroke her hair, undoing her ponytail and watching as it falls around her shoulders in a mass of soft silk.
She sighs and sets her work down.
“I love your hair.” It’s true. I do. “Sometimes it’s red, sometimes gold, and sometimes it’s both.”
She turns around to face me, her eyes searching my face. “Is that the only thing you love?”
No. Not at all. “You have no idea,” I say softly. If I give her a hint of how I feel, how reluctant I am to let her go, she’ll probably run screaming to Jack-Whatshisname. I straighten and step away from the sofa. “You should pack an overnight bag. We’re leaving in about an hour.”
Her eyes dance with excitement. “You still won’t tell me where we’re going?”
I grin. “You’ll see soon enough.”
A car takes us from the hotel to an exclusive clubhouse that boasts a golf course and a dock. As we approach the large boat waiting in the water, Rachel turns to face me, eyebrows raised in a silent question.
My lips quirk. “Do you like sailing?”
“I don’t know.” She smiles. “I’ve never done it.”
I take her hand, loving the feel of her fingers wrapped in mine. “Well, come on, then.”
Once in the boat, she changes into a bikini that shows off her exquisite curves. We have lunch on the deck, enjoying the view as the boat sails across the bay.
Rachel glows in the afternoon sun, relaxed and laughing. She’s also fun, making me realize how long it’s been since I’ve hung out with a woman whose company I actually enjoy.
I’ve spent most of my life emotionally closed off and remote, but she makes me wish I could surrender the barriers I’ve built around myself, even if only for a while.
Near evening, we dock at a tiny island with a flight of carved stone steps leading up to a spacious bungalow.
Rachel loves the house. I watch, amused as she runs from room to room, looking at the views. I own the house, though I can’t remember ever enjoying it as much as I am right now, through her eyes.
She makes everything better.
Slow down, Landon.
“I’m famished,” she declares in the kitchen when I open the fridge to confirm that the groceries I requested were delivered. When I offer to make dinner, she can’t hide her surprise. She insists on watching me throughout, like I’m a magician doing tricks. I don’t mind. I’m a good cook—growing up with access to hotel kitchens has some advantages.
After dinner, she lies with her head on my lap while I screen Sunset Boulevard in the den. Once she gets past her reservations about the movie being in black and white, she enjoys it almost as much as I do.
“That was tragic,” she complains when the movie ends.
“But,” I insist, “a classic.”
She makes a face then turns to me, her eyes softening. “I had a great day today.”
I stroke her hair. “Me too.”
Rising to her feet, she holds out a hand. “Come on. Let’s go to bed. I’ve been thinking about jumping your bones since you made me dinner.”
I follow her, chuckling. “You don’t think you could have told me that two hours ago?”
“And skip the movie?” She gives me a teasing smile. “No way.”
“Fuck the movie.” I grab her waist and carry her into the master bedroom, where we make love until we both fall asleep.
On the drive back to the city the next day, Rachel is animated on the phone with Laurie. I’m luxuriating in the sound of her voice, unable to stop smiling. It’s a strange feeling.
It’s happiness.
Even the knowledge that the feeling is temporary does nothing to dampen it. She’s like an angel of light, making the days and nights more bearable.
In her arms last
night, even though the dreams were there, I slept all night and woke up feeling like a new man.
She ends the call and faces me, her eyes shining, and for a moment, all I want to do is look at her.
How did this happen?
“Your cousin?” I ask, referring to the phone call.
She nods. “Yup.”
“She must miss you.”
Rachel grins. “Nah, she just misses having someone to torture with her teasing.” I raise an eyebrow and she chuckles. “I’m joking. I miss her too.”
“Maybe I can cheer you up,” I offer. “How would you like to go to a party tonight?”
“A party?”
“Well, not really a party per se. It’s the opening night gala for the San Francisco Ballet.”
She frowns. “Isn’t that a big deal?”
You are a big deal, I want to say, but I keep the words to myself. “I wasn’t planning to go, but I thought you might want to. My mother used to be part of the company before she was hired away to New York. I’ve always been a sponsor.”
She makes a face. “Well, thanks for telling me now instead of when I could have actually packed a dress to wear to a ball.”
I’m smiling. “Don’t worry about what to wear—that’s what fairy godmothers are for.”
She laughs. “If you were the fairy godmother, Cinderella would never have made it to the ball.” I raise an eyebrow, and she continues, her lips lifting in a teasing smile. “She wouldn’t even want to, not with the multiple orgasms she’d be getting in the pumpkin carriage.”
I can’t help smirking. “I wouldn’t ruin a children’s fairy tale just for sex, but thanks for letting me know you think I’m more desirable than Prince Charming.”
She laughs softly. “I love how humble you are.”
That word in there makes me catch my breath, whether in desire or fear, I’m not sure. I hold her gaze. “Is that all you love?”
Her smile gives nothing away. “You have no idea.”
Back in the suite, I sequester myself in the library while a couple of people from the spa help Rachel get ready for the gala. I don’t want to be anywhere near the primping and pampering, but I can’t wait to see how beautiful she’ll look when she’s ready.
Not that she isn’t always beautiful.
Just thinking of her makes me smile.
And I have only one more day with her.
The thought is almost unbearable. We’re only playing pretend. She’s not really mine. For all I know, she’s still pining for her ex, and judging from his trip to see her, he hasn’t let her go either.
It shouldn’t sting so much that I’m probably just a footnote in their story, but it does. Selfishly, I want to be the main part of her story.
And what will you offer her, Landon? Sex and a pretty face? Is that all she deserves?
Pushing the thoughts from my mind, I make a few calls and study an expense report for a resort I own. Close to an hour later, I go to change, steering clear of Rachel’s room, where the spa treatment is still ongoing. It only takes me a few minutes to get ready, and by the time Rachel emerges from her room, I’m waiting.
She’s wearing a dress I chose, in bold purple silk, but it’s not the dress that takes my breath away. It’s her. It’s almost as if every time I see her, she looks infinitely more beautiful. She stands at the other side of the room from me, her eyes on mine, looking almost shy as she waits for me to say something.
I cross the room without taking my eyes from her. “You look ravishing.”
She gives me a small smile. “I had help.”
“No.” I shake my head. “This is all you.”
She places her hand in mine, and I lead her down to the waiting limo. In there, as we navigate the streets of the city, I reveal one more surprise for her. The marquise-cut stones of an exquisite choker and earring set gleam in the interior of the car. They’re stunning, but they’ll look even better on her.
Her eyes widen. “God, it’s perfect.” Her voice is an awed whisper.
You are perfect, I reply internally. “I’m glad you think so,” I say out loud. I take the choker out of the box. “May I?”
“I don’t…” She looks uncertain. “I don’t think I can take this.”
“Why not? It’s just jewelry.” If she lets me, there’s so much more I can give her, so much more I want to give her.
She still looks unconvinced. “Very expensive jewelry.”
Why would that be a problem? “You wouldn’t feel better about it if it were cheap.”
She gives me an impatient frown. “That’s not the point.”
Okay. So what is?
“How many women have you given jewelry?” she continues.
I don’t want to think about any other women right now, but I answer her truthfully. “A few.”
She pulls in a sharp breath. “Well, this makes me feel like one of your women, and I don’t want to feel like I’m being given expensive gifts for spending time with you.”
The thought of her as one of my women is amusing, not only because I don’t have a harem of women like the words suggest, but also because being with her makes even the thought of other women impossible. “Even if I had any women, I’d never consider you as one of them.” I clasp the choker around her neck, and she doesn’t resist. “Consider it a loan then, just for tonight. It looks wonderful on you.”
Inside the venue, I politely navigate through clusters of people eager to talk to me. Rachel is stunning, and her appreciation of her surroundings translates into a beautiful glow that makes it almost impossible to take my eyes off her.
I’m glad she’s enjoying herself, but selfishly, I’d much rather be alone with her.
For the short time I have left.
My depressing thoughts take a turn toward annoyance when I see Evans Sinclair approaching me.
I haven’t spoken to Ava in a while, haven’t thought about her brother either, but I don’t need to look twice to see he’s drunk already and spoiling for a fight.
“I suppose now you have more reason to be in San Francisco,” he sneers at me, and then his eyes rake over Rachel with lewd sexual interest that makes me want to break his jaw. “Something else you’ve bought, I presume.”
I put a dam on my anger. He’s not worth it. “You need to learn to control your tongue if you don’t want to get your nose broken,” I warn. “You’ve already lost too much to risk losing that pretty face of yours too, haven’t you, Sinclair?”
He runs away like the coward he is.
“Well, that’s one person who doesn’t like you,” Rachel quips, uncowed by his petulance.
I snort. “He happens to be one person whose good opinion I can do without.”
“Hey, Red.” Cameron is with Jules, his wife, who is visibly pregnant and glowing. “Don’t tell me you’re still hanging out with this one,” he teases Rachel.
Her lips curve. “I hate to disappoint you, but I am indeed.”
“More’s the pity,” he declares with fake sorrow.
I want to elbow him. “Shut up and stop badmouthing me.” I hug him before kissing Jules on both cheeks. “Hey, Jules. How are you?”
“Knocked up.” She grins and turns to Rachel. “I’m Jules McDaniel, Cameron’s wife.”
“Rachel Foster. I’m here with Landon.”
Jules takes Rachel’s hand. “Where’s our table?” she asks, turning an arched eyebrow to me and Cameron. “Or are you two planning to keep a pregnant woman standing all night?”
We find the table, though my mind is on Rachel’s words. I’m here with Landon. They are so lacking in anything real. So empty of a connection. So bland.
You only have one more day, I remind myself, and then you’ll have even less of a connection.
At the empty table, we are joined by Nelson Bledsoe, the cosmetics billionaire, and a young girl I don’t recognize, though she’s staring at me like I should know who she is.
“I’m sure you don’t remember my daughter, Davina,”
Nelson tells me. “You only met her once.”
I vaguely remember a serious little girl in black shaking my hand at my father’s funeral. I pull my memories back from that dark place and give the girl a friendly smile.
“At my father’s funeral ten years ago,” I tell her. “You’ve changed.”
She blushes. “So have you.”
“Davina served on the board for the gala this year,” Nelson says, glowing with pride. “She’s now a swan in her own right.”
“In San Francisco at least,” Davina adds.
Nelson grins. “Let’s sit,” he says. I pull out a chair for Rachel, letting my fingers brush her shoulders as she takes her seat. Again, I find myself wishing we were alone.
When I’m seated, Davina is on my other side. I say something vague and complimentary to her before turning my attention to Nelson and enquiring about some investments he made. Mingling with the sounds from the orchestra, I can hear Rachel and Jules talking and laughing, and idly, I wonder what they’re discussing.
“I can’t wait for the performances,” Cameron says from across the table. He’s studying the program. “Did you know there was a time I wanted to dance ballet?”
At the thought of my big friend in tights, I burst into laughter. “You’d have made a spectacular dancer.”
His shoulders are shaking. “I have no doubt.”
Just then, I turn in Rachel’s direction and find her watching me, an odd look in her eyes. I reach for her hand under the table, squeezing it gently.
Her eyes flare, but only for a few seconds before clouding with a sadness I don’t understand. She turns her face away from me but leaves her hand in mine.
“How would you compare the new San Francisco version to the Swanson Court in New York?” Nelson is addressing Rachel.
She considers the question for a moment. “I haven’t visited the New York hotel extensively, but from what I’ve seen, I’d say San Francisco tends more toward modern luxury, while New York is timeless elegance.”
Her choice of words makes me want to preen. When did her approval and good opinion become so important to me?
