“She should try everything,” Abby says, her voice softening, quieter now.
“To see what she likes.”
Abby nods. “To see what she falls in love with,” she adds softly, her golden eyes never straying from mine.
“She’ll definitely fall in love with something,” I say, my voice matching hers, my heart beating rapidly.
“Like languages.”
“Or restaurants.”
“Or something else entirely.”
“Or someone, someday,” I say, barely a whisper.
As the sound of metal hitting metal in a bout surrounds us, I bend closer to her and speak softly near her ear. “I can’t stop falling for you.”
She shivers, and her eyes float closed momentarily. When they flutter open, she looks at me once more. “I can’t, either, Simon.”
The way she says my name, sweet and desperate, threads into me. I’m powerless to resist her. I stop fighting it.
No, I don’t kiss her again in the fencing club during my daughter’s lesson. Instead, I ask her a question. “Hayden’s back with her mom this weekend, and I have a dinner with Gabriel and his guys. Would you like to come with me?”
“Because you’re not learning French fast enough?” she asks playfully.
“Oui,” I say with a grin. “But I’d like your company, too.”
“Will you pick me up before dinner?”
I nod. “I will.”
20
Abby
“The paella was amazing when I was in Spain,” I tell Gabriel from my spot next to him in his gorgeous apartment, where he’s cooked us a feast.
He rolls his eyes in pleasure. “It’s to-die-for. Never better than in Barcelona.”
“But I bet you can make it even tastier,” I say, with a playful challenge.
He laughs, and it matches his personality—big, buoyant, sparkly. I can see why Simon wants to work with him. He’s charming and amazingly talented, and the dinner he made for us is divine, an incredible red snapper and risotto, as well as roasted artichoke, lightly seasoned.
His partners are easygoing, and Simon was right. They vastly prefer to speak in French. That’s what we’ve been doing, though Gabriel speaks Spanish, too, and as I chat with him we slide back and forth into that language.
“So you learned all your Spanish abroad?” he asks.
I shake my head as I slice a piece of the fish, the knife slipping through like butter. “My mother is from Spain, so I knew enough beforehand, but in the year there I became fluent enough to teach it now. What about you?” I ask as I bring the bite to my mouth.
He tells me he grew up bilingual, speaking French and Portuguese, but then he mastered English in school and Spanish in his travels.
“It’s a handy language to know in the food business,” he says as he picks up his glass of wine.
“Yes, I suspect it is,” I say and catch the gaze briefly of Simon, who’s next to me, chatting with Gabriel’s colleagues. There are eight of us here at the table. He’s held his own through most of the meal, though I weigh in from time to time and translate. When I do, he shoots me the sweetest smile, one that just melts me.
But then, everything he does seems to have that effect on me.
Maybe even more so tonight, with two glasses of wine making my world particularly warm and toasty.
When Eduardo asks a question about the structure of the deal, the crinkle in Simon’s forehead tells me he doesn’t understand every word, so I chime in with a translation.
“Thank you,” he says softly to me, then answers the goateed man.
As he talks, I turn my focus back to the chef.
Gabriel gestures to Simon with his eyes. “You’re good for him,” he says in a quiet voice.
“You think so?”
“Yes. The two of you are like a perfect team.”
A faint blush creeps across my cheeks. “Thank you.”
“How long have you worked together? Because he wasn’t speaking like this a few weeks ago. Did you help him?”
I beam and nod. “I did.”
“He is lucky to have such a good teacher. And a lovely one,” he says, then flashes a charming smile.
We chatter on about travel and food, then about the best wines in the world. A few minutes later, I catch my breath when a hand presses against my thigh. Simon’s hand. He doesn’t even slide it up my leg—he simply rests it on me as he talks. I don’t know if it’s one of those things he’s barely aware of, or something he’s intending. But I know this much—I love that he’s touching me.
Gabriel raises a glass of wine. “To good food!”
Eduardo nods. “To good deals!” Then he meets my gaze, waiting for me.
“To good matches!” I turn to Simon.
“To all of you,” he says, and as the rest of the guests join in with their toasts, Simon slides his palm up a few inches, and I nearly swoon right there at the dinner table.
I love how much he needs me. I love how much he wants me. I love the way he talks to me. I love how he looks tonight, in his gray slacks, a light blue button-down, and no tie.
I love everything about tonight, including this wine, including the company, and including how much I want this dinner to end so that whatever happens next has a chance of beginning.
The elevator door in Gabriel’s building closes with a soft whoosh. We’re alone, having just said goodbye. Simon presses the button for the lobby then meets my gaze.
“Dinner was amazing.” I feel like I’m glowing, from the good food and good company.
“It was, and I’m so glad you were here with me. Thank you.”
“It was my pleasure,” I say as I smooth a hand over the skirt of my black dress, a knee-length flouncy number with slim straps.
He steps closer as the car chugs downward. Then even closer as he reaches for my arm and runs his finger down the bare skin. Goosebumps rise in his wake, and I shiver.
I swallow, my eyes staying on his the whole time. “How do you think we’re doing with the feats of strength?” I ask, my tone laced with the desire that builds in me every second that he looks at me like this—like I’m the answer to his every wish.
“Well, I haven’t ripped off your clothes,” he says with a wry grin, his blue eyes sparkling as his fingers change directions, heading back up my arm.
“Pity, that.”
He raises his hand to my face and runs the back of his fingers over my jawline. I lean into him and sigh contentedly. I feel as if I’m glowing all over, like everything is bright and beautiful in my world.
“Abby,” he says, his voice full of tenderness.
“Yes?”
With his free hand he gestures from me to him. “What’s happening here?”
My heart squeezes, and my skin heats to supernova levels. I know what he’s asking. I know what he’s getting at. I want him to say it first, though. “I think you know,” I whisper.
He nods and presses the barest of kisses to my lips. I light up everywhere from that sliver-of-a-second of a kiss. My entire body tingles from head to toe. He separates and gazes at me, and sparklers ignite in every cell of my body. I’m a firework, and I’m about to burst in brilliant red jets of light. If he just says what I think he’s going to say . . .
He tucks a finger under my chin as the car slows, nearing the lobby. “I do know.”
My body hums with hope. “Then tell me,” I say, my voice bare, stripped to pure need.
“I will. I’ll tell you what’s happening to me, and it’s this,” he says, stopping to take a breath, holding my gaze. “I’m in love with you.”
And I swoon. I melt. I burst. I don’t know that I’ve been very good at resisting this man, but I sure as hell know I no longer want to. I’m crazy for him. Looping my hands around his neck, I pull him close. “I’m so in love with you.”
“I’ve been falling in love with you since the day we met,” he says, and my heart soars above the earth.
“It’s completely the same f
or me.”
He sighs against me, and it’s the happiest of sounds. I’ve done this. I’ve made this man incandescently happy. I stand up on tiptoe and move my mouth to his ear. “Will you take me to your home and make love to me?”
A shudder moves through his body, and he answers with the sexiest, hungriest yes.
21
Simon
She walks into my bedroom looking like she belongs.
Not because she struts in like she lives here. But because she owns me. She’s claimed a piece of my heart, and now I have the chance to touch her in the most intimate way.
It staggers me.
Watching her run her fingers along the covers of my bed knocks the breath out of me. She’s here. In my bedroom. When she turns around, she drops her purse on my bed, brings her hand to the strap on her shoulder, and gives me the most inviting look.
Like she’s saying come and get me.
I will. Oh yes, I will.
“Let me do that,” I say, closing the distance between us and pushing the slim black strap of her dress down her shoulder, exposing her bare flesh. “Let me undress you.”
I bend to her, kissing her, imprinting my lips on her soft, vanilla-scented skin. She murmurs and sighs as her hands loop into my hair. I travel along her collarbone, nipping her lightly with my teeth then kissing the delicate column of her throat. She stretches her neck, exposing more of her skin for me. I kiss up to her ear, bite down on her earlobe, and whisper, “This feels like a dream.”
Her hand curls around my head. “It’s all real. I assure you.”
“So real,” I echo as I brush my lips to hers. “I didn’t stand a chance of resisting you, Abby. The minute you walked through my door, it’s been a battle.”
“It’s the same for me, I swear,” she says, breathless.
I slide the other strap down then bring my hands to her back and work open the zipper. “I’ve longed for this moment. Dreamed about it,” I say as I glide down the metal teeth.
She trembles, and her breath stuttering like that is the sweetest sound. I don’t need music. I don’t need noise. I want to hear only her—her gasps, her voice, her sighs, mingling with the far-off din of a New York City night.
“Me, too,” she says, her breath ghosting over me. “You have no idea.”
“No. I have every idea. Because I’m so fucking crazy about you.” My entire body burns with desire for her. My bones vibrate with the need to touch her, to take her, to have her. To be as close to this woman as I possibly can be.
I dip my mouth to hers, crushing her lips in a kiss. My brain goes haywire, my veins shooting full of electricity from the way we connect. As I kiss her hard, I tug her dress to her waist, her hips, then down her legs. I barely break the kiss as she steps out of her clothes.
Her fingers race up my shirt, grasping at buttons, undoing them in a flurry. Soon, she spreads open the fabric, running her hands across my chest, tracing the tattoo. I still for a moment, taking in the enormity of this night.
Abby’s hands are on my bare skin. She’s touching me. She wants me to make love to her, and I’m going to. I’m going to strip the rest of her clothes off, lay her on my bed naked, and slide into her—
Fuck.
The sky falls, and my night crashes down. “I don’t have any condoms,” I blurt out.
She wiggles her eyebrows. “But I do.”
“You do?”
She shrugs sexily. “I was kind of hoping you’d want this. And I didn’t want to presume you stocked them, so I did.”
“I don’t stock them,” I say, and don’t need to add no need to. Obviously, if I don’t have them, that’s why.
She reaches for her purse, snaps it open, and tosses the wrapper on the bed.
“Only one?” I tease, as I unbutton my pants.
“I have another one. If we need it,” she adds as I toe off my shoes and pull off my socks.
“Oh, we’ll need it,” I say, my voice commanding, strong. “Once with you won’t be enough.”
I unzip my pants and take them off, tossing them somewhere on the floor.
She breathes out hard as she stares at my boxer briefs and the outline of my hard-on. Her eyes widen, looking hazy with lust. Good. I like the way she stares. The way she licks her lips. Her eyes shine with desire, and the look in them makes me even harder.
Her hand reaches out, and she presses it against my dick. I groan.
“Fuck, Abby,” I mutter as she rubs her palm against me. Her touch is out of this world. I rock into her hand for a few seconds. Then I step back, taking in how utterly stunning she is, clad only in a dark bra and matching lace panties that will be off her in seconds. “You look gorgeous in all this black, but I’m dying to get you into absolutely nothing.”
She runs her hands up my chest and whispers, “Strip me.”
So I do, unhooking her bra, sliding off her panties, and then admiring her naked beauty. All that creamy skin, those beautiful breasts, her soft belly, her hips, and then, as she sinks back onto my bed, between her legs, where I want to spend the rest of the night.
I strip off my boxers and climb on top of her, skin to warm skin. She moans and arches up into me, and I could slide into her right now. But I want her wild. I want her reckless. I want her out of her mind with pleasure. Making my way down her beautiful body, I kiss her breasts, her belly, her waist. She raises her knees and lets them fall open.
A lust-fueled reverence charges through my body as I run my hands under her thighs, spread her open more, and bury my face between her legs.
She whimpers the second my tongue flicks against her sweet center. My eyes roll back into my head. She tastes exquisite, and she’s mine. All mine. As I kiss and lick her wetness, her fingers tangle into my hair, and she moves with me, her hips rocking up, her back arching.
A broken pant falls from her lips, then a plea.
More, please, God, more.
It’s so good.
Oh God, it’s so good.
Her words ignite me as I devour her. Soon, she turns wilder, frantic and frenzied, her fingers gripping my skull as she grinds against my tongue. She’s all over me, her liquid heat on my chin, my lips, my jaw, and I fucking love being coated in her.
Nearly as much as I love the way her hands curl tighter through my hair, and she cries out, thrusting up into me, moaning, groaning, calling my name as she comes on my lips, then collapses.
I crawl up her body, brushing kisses on her skin as I go. I reach her face and she pulls me close, pressing her lips to mine. Without breaking the kiss, I grab the condom, open the wrapper, and then separate from her so I can roll it on. Can’t fuck up this part. Got to do it properly.
I stare at her, all warm and glowing in my bed, her wild blond hair fanned out, her eyes shimmering, and I’m floored. I’m here in my home with this wonderful woman I’ve completely fallen in love with.
And she’s fallen right along with me.
How lucky am I?
She loops her arms around my neck. “Now,” she begs.
“So demanding,” I tease, as I rub the head of my dick against her wetness.
Holy hell. She feels amazing, and then I elevate that assessment to divine as I push into her. Her lips part, and she moans softly as I fill her. When I’m fully nestled inside her, she grabs the back of my head and brings my face close to hers.
“Hi,” she whispers.
“Hey, you,” I say as I start to move, stroking inside her, then dragging back, letting her feel the friction of us.
“You feel incredible,” she says, and she never takes her eyes off me. She’s so open, so vulnerable, so fucking honest.
A shiver runs down my spine as I take this all in. Our intense connection. The dark of the night. This woman in my bed. “Have I ever told you how much I love making you come?” I whisper as I thrust.
She flashes a quick smile. “No. Tell me,” she murmurs.
I lower to my elbows, and she runs her fingernails up my arms and over my bic
eps, squeezing them.
I push deeper into her, savoring the wet heat, the snug feel, the tightness of her as she grips me. “It’s my new favorite hobby. Giving you orgasms,” I say on a groan.
She digs her nails into my arms and arches up, her back bowing off the bed. “Oh God,” she moans, her eyes falling shut. “You’re so good at it.”
“Because I love it. Because I love tasting you,” I rasp in her ear. I circle my hips and drive into her. Her pitch rises as she moans. “Because I love making you feel good,” I add, continuing my ode to her pleasure as I fuck her. She moves faster, matching me thrust for thrust, stroke for stroke. I meet her rhythm, then punch my hips, upping the pace, harder and faster. Her breath grows louder and wilder, and her legs wrap around me.
“Oh God,” she groans.
I press my lips to her neck, then thread my hands in her hair, my chest to hers, our bare skin touching. “Because I’m so fucking in love with you,” I say, and she rises up, grinding into me. Arching. Seeking.
Her mouth opens, and she’s silent at first, then beautifully loud, as she shatters beneath me, writhing and moaning and breaking apart.
My own pleasure isn’t far away. It’s just within reach as I watch the climax move through her. Her breath catches. Her face contorts. Her pants turn to delirious cries.
That’s all I need. She’s all I want. I follow her to my own ecstasy, and it’s never been better than it is with her.
22
Abby
Probably someone somewhere said no wise decisions were made at three in the morning. But I disagree.
As Simon wraps his arm around me, I ask, “So are we doing this?”
My heart beats faster, making a case for taking that leap. After all these months of fighting our feelings, I don’t want to hide them anymore. I’m not blind. I’m not stupid. I know the risks. But this wild happiness in my heart when I’m with him? It’s stronger than all those warning signs.
The One Love Collection Page 13