All Shook Up

by Ashley Bostock

  “Like what exactly? Take today. What went on that you had to deal with today?” she asked as she threaded her fingers through his dark chest hair, enjoying the steady beat of his heart beneath her palm.

  “Well, let me think. I had to negotiate with Macy’s in regards to carrying one of Deluxe’s designer wears for women. Hypocrisy—”

  “You own Hypocrisy? Wow, your reach is vast.”

  “There are thirteen brands under Deluxe. There are five major retail franchises that are owned by Deluxe. I employee thirteen hundred people at a given time—it varies with the seasons—and Deluxe is also starting new ventures in the kitchen.”

  “What’s that mean? Like you’re going to be the next Martha Stewart?” Jillian lifted her head to look into his eyes.

  “Sort of. Just a kitchen brand is what we’re focusing on. She’s into furniture, bedding and we wouldn’t be. Yet, anyway. The details aren’t final and we’re in the process of deciding whether it would be beneficial to partner up with a cooking celebrity to make the brand stronger or if we can do that on our own.”

  “Now, when you say “we,” you mean you, right?”

  “No. I mean we. My team. My employees. Deluxe is nothing without them – even the ones that I don’t deal with every day-”

  “Like me?”

  Cole chuckled. “You’re an exception to every rule I’ve ever had. So yeah, I just got lucky and happen to own all of that.”

  “I can’t believe you have that many employees. And what do you mean, I’m the exception to every rule you’ve ever had?”

  “I don’t date my employees. Ever. I don’t generally give away the ship and let my store managers make all the decisions on buying products for their stores. And I definitely don’t dance with any of my employees.”

  “So you only gave me the ship because you wanted to get into my panties?” She frowned.

  “No. I gave you the ship because you impressed me. Damn, Jillian. You could do anything you want. You’re smart when it comes to shit like this.” He waved his hand around them. “I recognized the drive in you the first day we met. You don’t need someone telling you how to run a business. Or what to order. You have what it takes. So, no, back to your question. I didn’t give you the ship so I could get into your panties.”

  Her stomach rumbled in the silence.

  “Hell, we should go eat,” he said.

  “You know, I’m not really feeling the steak thing at this point. Are you?”

  “Truthfully, no. I’d much rather stay put. But I can’t let your stomach eat itself,” he said.

  “Let’s order in. What do you like? Chinese?” Jillian was up and grabbing her phone before he could answer. Once their food had been delivered after they’d reluctantly gotten dressed, they sat at the table and ate.

  “So where are your parents? In Denver?” she asked as she shoved a mouthful of Kung Pao into her mouth.

  “Yes. They’re close.”

  “Other brothers or sisters?” His gaze faltered and she remembered the night at her house when Arabella had Googled Cole on the internet and found only one lonely article that he had a sister that had died. “Never mind. You don’t have to tell me.”

  He tilted his head. “Do you already know?”

  “No. Yes. Well, Wikipedia said you had a sister but that was so long ago, I forgot that we’d looked it up.” She could feel the flame in her cheeks.

  “I’m on Wikipedia? Isn’t that the online Encyclopedia you can’t completely trust?” he asked in surprise.

  “Oh, well, yeah. You are. You should look sometime. Maybe you could even tweak any necessary adjustments – you know how they’re always asking if you know more about the topic or not…” And she was babbling. She was trying to direct the conversation away from the awkward moment about his dead sister.

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He blushed. Cole Carrington blushed and it made Jillian giddy. She threw her head back and laughed. Of course he didn’t know what she was talking about. He probably snapped his fingers and people found whatever he needed, not having to use the website himself or understand the way it worked.

  “Of course not. Anyway, you’re on there.”

  The lines of his mouth were more pronounced as he spoke. “My sister. Her name was Francesca Louise Carrington. She passed away two years ago.”

  “I’m so sorry. You don’t have to say anything more.” Because this hurt. Her heart ached for him and for his sister, whom she’d never met but was likely as smart and talented as her brother. Just as beautiful and kind. Jillian would have loved to meet her. A female version of Cole. Jillian and her would have undoubtedly become quick friends.

  “No, it’s good. She’d want me to tell you about her. She was smart. Brilliant. She loved to Salsa dance. She was the one who decorated my penthouse.” His voice sobered and he frowned. “She died much too soon.”

  She ventured to ask. “What happened to her?”

  Cole looked her grimly in the eyes, knowingly, and she had a sinking feeling she wasn’t going to like the answer. Her stomach clenched tightly.

  “She died from domestic abuse.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  No, it was never a great discussion to bring up, but since the two of them were starting on a good page after his undercover gig, he didn’t want to not point out the irony of their situations. He didn’t want to act like it was a big secret, especially when he knew that her mom worked for a women’s shelter and two, her sister was in some kind of abusive relationship.

  Telling her about Francesca and the complex was one thing. Confiding in her about his feelings and how he harbored enough guilt to feed all of downtown’s homeless, was quite another. He could keep it to the facts. He was good with facts.

  Staring at Jillian’s stone-washed face as he sat across from her in the loft at Lacie’s, wasn’t exactly a great way to have a first date. Having sex within minutes of being in her company had him on a more intimate basis than just a first date. He wasn’t even sure you could count this as a date, since they’d stayed inside the entire time.

  “I don’t even know what to say,” Jillian said with disgust. He understood it wasn’t disgust from him opening up to her, but rather the situation itself which would turn anyone’s stomach. Especially because of Jillian’s sister.

  Jillian held up her hand. “Please don’t go into details. Not now, at least. I need time to process this. Maybe someday, if you feel like talking or we’re still together or—”

  “Jillian, stop. I won’t go into the details of that. But I am okay if there’s anything you want to know. And you’re awfully damn cute when you begin to babble, you know that?” He smiled, trying to lighten the mood.

  “I’m not being insensitive, please know that,” she said.

  “Trust me, I get it. It’s never easy to discuss and it doesn’t get easier over time.” He set his fork down and pushed his chair back. Jillian didn’t need to know that it was his fault Francesca had died. That he hadn’t been able to save her.

  “It’s never a good situation to be in. My mom and I talk about it a lot. Because of Arabella.” Her chin dipped to her chest. Cole’s hand rested against the side of her cheek and with his other hand, he tilted her face up to look into her eyes.

  “That’s another thing, while you’re on the topic of your mom. My friends and I are in the process of building a complex. The Francesca Project. It’s a six-hundred dwelling project that will be available for abused women and children to live in as they get back on their feet. Some of the apartments are temporary, depending on their financial situation—available for them to get out—some are permanent.”

  “You’re building something like that?” Her features softened and he stepped back as she stood from her chair.

  “I had to. I had to do something. It was too late for Francesca, but it won’t be too late for other women.”

  “Oh, Cole.” She flung herself into his arms and squeezed him tightly. “That’s the
most-caring thing I’ve ever heard. You’re single-handedly making a difference.”

  He shifted at the over-the-top attention. “Not single-handedly. My friends are helping. I couldn’t do it without their support.”

  “What kind of friends are they? Who are they?”

  “Well, there’s Michael Vilander. He’s the CEO of Together.com. Been friends since high school. There’s my good buddy Zander Morgan, whom I met when Francesca had a small fling with the guy and she introduced us. He owns Morgan Architects down the street. Have you ever heard of The Hollinsworth Hotels?” He pulled back to study her.

  “Yeah, of course. They’re all over.”

  “Justin Hollinsworth is on the project as well. And last but not least, is Dylan Truex. He-”

  “Wait. The Dylan Truex? From Truex Fitness? Dirty Gains? He’s like a fitness celebrity.” She visibly fanned herself.

  Cole rolled his eyes. “If I ever introduce you to him, please do not fawn over him. His head is already too big for his body.”

  “His body…well, it’s a great body.” She admitted.

  “What about my body? Does it suit you?” Cole grinned.

  She put her finger up to her chin. “Let me think about it. Hmm.”

  She reached out and slowly smoothed her palms from his forearms, up to his shoulders. She moved them across his chest, and what started as a joke, quickly turned into foreplay. Her eyes were busy admiring his shirt-covered chest. She unbuttoned the few buttons he’d done up as her fingertips teased his chest hair. Her tempting mouth was open in lust as her hands moved across the planes of his pecs. Her fingertips glided over his nipples that were already hardening from her teasing. Her hands moved lower across his flat stomach and he flexed at her ticklish touch. And still lower, where she was met with something as equally hard, if not harder than his abs.

  Her cheeks were fiery red as she let out a sigh. “I think your body suits me just fine.”

  She continued to touch him through the fabric of his suit pants and it dawned on him that they’d used his last condom. Damn.

  He had more at his penthouse.

  “Come home with me,” he said.

  “Now. Tonight?” she asked, her eyes widening.

  “Yes. I have condoms there. I got my record player hooked up. Bring some of your records and let’s go.”

  “This night turned out nothing like I was expecting,” Jillian said as she fingered through the albums. She made a nice little pile of records before she turned to him. “How do I look?”

  “To die for. You ready?”

  The second Cole drove into his lift, she started freaking out. It was expected. It was a little over the top. He’d brought only two women to his place and they’d both freaked out about the lift.

  “I had no idea something like this even existed.” She squealed as the elevator took them to the twelfth floor and he couldn’t help the grin on his face at her excitement.

  “It’s handy.” Once it stopped and he got out, he helped her out of the car. For the life of him, he couldn’t fathom what he was doing. Bringing her here after their wild evening in the loft at Lacie’s, had him feeling like they were a couple. Jillian made him feel things. Good things. Very good things. He wanted to relish that. He wanted more of whatever good stuff she was giving him. Admittedly, he liked it a lot. He missed it.

  “You live here all alone?” she asked as she twirled in slow circles trying to take everything in.

  “Who else would I live here with?”

  “It’s just so…grandiose and large.”

  “Would you like me to show you around?” he asked, tentatively.

  Jillian stopped, a wicked gleam in her eyes. “Oh, hell yeah.”

  For the next ten minutes, they walked around his place as she oohed and ahhed over just about everything. The antique green cupboards in his kitchen, all the stainless-steel appliances, including the three types of beer he had on tap attached to his island counter. His five-hundred bottle wine cellar that he didn’t use, except for the cigar box that was installed in there and even that was on limited occasion.

  “Is it lonely?” she asked as he pushed open the doors of his office suite. She let out a gasp, as her hand flew to her chest.

  Walls and walls of books lined the office. Fashion design, photography, poetry and screenplays took up most of the space. His large desk and windows that overlooked the city rivaled the spectacular view from his bedroom, and during the day provided him great views of the mountains. He considered her question. How did he answer that without going into his whole not wanting to date women thing after Francesca? Was he lonely?

  He watched her. Her hands were like little butterflies, touching everything for the briefest second before moving on to the next thing. Her eyes were alight with wonder as she pulled out a Tennessee Williams novel and shoved it back in to pull out another about famous designers in history.

  “Sometimes,” he said, not wanting to delve into further discussions about it. Was it lonely? Fuck yes. He was lonely. It was a constant in his life that he’d managed to live with since After Francesca. Only, until now, watching as Jillian appreciated every fixture, every piece of art, even every damn rug and drape, with a smile that lit up the penthouse more than any light could do, he realized just how lonely it’d become. She could fill the void.

  “Come on. I’ve saved the best for last.”

  “Your room. Let me guess? Your bed?” She wiggled her eyebrows at him.

  “Well, yeah.”

  He stepped inside the doorway and let her pass, taking in her womanly scent as she passed. Her sigh filled him with contentment and he couldn’t exactly pinpoint why. Home. She’s home.

  “It’s breathtaking,” she said as her gaze roamed over one window and then the next. As if her body was drawn to them, she started on the far wall and peered out of each window, as if the view changed from window to window.

  “You like?” He chuckled. The swell in his chest growing from her excitement.

  “I love. The fireplace. The windows. The view. It’s magical.” She breathed. For the first time her gaze landed on his bed and there was that little contentment/pride thing that filled his chest. Hope she loves it. Because his plan was that she was going to be spending a lot of time in it.

  “Oh heaven. All the pillows. My bed is basic. Full-size. A comforter I got on sale from somewhere. But this, this is straight out of a hotel or something.”

  He hid his smile at her amusement, mentally patting himself on the back. The way she invitingly rubbed her palms along the duvet and wooden pillars along the bottom footboard had him wishing she was rubbing him the way she had earlier tonight.

  He went up behind her and pressed himself into her backside. “You’ll get to experience all of that tonight, I promise.”

  “You’re so damn cocky,” she said, pressing into him a little harder than necessary.

  “Just calling it the way I see it.”

  “What if I don’t want that? What if I want to do it in the office?”

  His dick twitched at that thought. That was okay with him. He’d gladly bend her over his desk and use the surface to his full advantage. “I’ll give you whatever you want, Jillian. Where ever you want it,” he whispered in her ear. There was something in his words. He wasn’t sure what exactly but it felt deeper than what he said. It felt like he was promising her something he’d never promised another woman. It came directly from his heart.

  If felt like a commitment.

  Which he wasn’t ready for. So when he backed away and Jillian’s questioning gaze met his as he broke the moment, he reminded himself that whatever this was, was just for now. He was thinking about too much, too soon.

  He got them a glass of champagne, hoping it would help clear his thoughts. Then, she’d practically begged for it. And even though he didn’t say, he felt the same way. Raw tension filled the air as he led her into his office and dimmed the lights. Like he’d done earlier, he unbuckled her garters and slid h
er panties down to her ankles. When she’d tried to kick off her heels, he stopped her.

  “Leave them on,” he commanded.

  Her ass pushed against him and he nudged her forward so that she was lying across his desk, save for her lower half which was positioned directly in front of Cole’s face. He ran his fingers along her wet seams and angled her legs far enough apart for his tongue to flick the hard bead there.

  “Oh, Cole.” She bucked her ass higher into the air in an attempt to gain friction.

  She tasted like sunshine and he couldn’t wait for her to come all over his mouth. He kept up his assault as she bucked frantically against his mouth. He knew she was close and he knew exactly what she needed to put her over the edge. He slid his fingers into her tight channel and Jillian moaned wildly, milking his fingers as her frantic bucking stopped and she reveled in bliss.

  He was a goner. His own body was strung tight with need. Desperation. Anticipation.

  “Don’t move,” he said as he stood and placed his hand on her lower back. With his other hand, he unbuckled and unzipped his pants, pulling his dick out from his briefs. He swept the head against her wetness, sighing at the glorious feel of her, before stepping back and rolling on a condom.

  “Hurry, Cole.” Jillian panted as she slid her fingers down against her clit.

  “So eager.” His voice rumbled. He aligned himself with her, teasing her slightly before he plunged himself into her. She squealed and gripped the edge of his desk as he stood, balls deep, inside her. “And so damn tight.”

  Holy shit. He stood unmoving for a moment to allow the strong rush of arousal to subside and little Ms. Impatient began moving against him as she maneuvered herself as best she could in the position she was in.

  He tilted his head down and watched as she moved her perfectly shaped ass against his cock. Having sex after so long had felt great at the shop, but this, in this position, felt like a Dyson suctioning hose and he feared he wouldn’t last much longer if she kept at it. Ahh, sweet, sweet pain.