His cock rests inside me still, throbbing and pulsing, keeping us connected for a few final moments.
“That was so worth it.” I sit up once we catch our breaths, lifting myself off him.
He takes his time crawling from his bed and makes his way to the bathroom to clean up. I fish my towel off the ground, but he snatches it from my hand when he returns.
“Hey,” I say.
“I’m not done looking at you yet.” There’s an owning arrogance in his tone.
“Oh?” I place a hand on my hip and pull my shoulders back. My cousin, Araminta, once told me there’s nothing that turns men on more than confidence. Nothing. You could be the most raggedy girl in the universe, but if you can own a room like you’re the sexiest thing ever to walk this earth, you’ll command a man’s attention. And then they won’t be able to get enough of you.
“I want to see what I’ve done to you.” His hands slip around my waist, and he pulls me closer. He lifts a hand to my flushed cheek, dragging it between my breasts before depositing a soft kiss on my waiting lips. His free hand dips between my thighs, plunging through my slickness and slipping inside. A delicious invasion. “Just because we’re finished, doesn’t mean you need to run off so quickly. I’m insulted. Makes a man feel used.”
My hips grind against his fingers, my sex sensitive and tender, my body wanting more.
“I never took you for the cuddling type.” I’m breathless all over again.
“Who said anything about cuddling?” Derek falls back onto the bed, taking me with him. I climb over him, my thighs straddling his hips and our fingers interlaced.
I don’t know what this is.
I don’t know what it means.
I only know it’s fun, and that’s all I want from this.
His determined hands hook onto my hips, and he sits up. We’re face to face, our mouths drawn into ridiculously satisfied grins, and the smell of sex lingers in the air.
“I can’t stop touching you.” He presses his lips on mine, his fingers trailing up my back until they’re lost in my hair once more. His hand gathers my tangled mane, tugging until the flesh of my neck is exposed to the night air. His breath is warm against my skin, and every part of me knows I could do this one more time if only he’d ask. “I want you, Serena. I want you all over again.”
My core pulses with his words, and I tuck my chin, my eyes finding his in the dark.
“And that doesn’t happen,” he says. “Because I don’t let it happen.”
“You don’t do repeats?” I hope he can’t hear the tinge of disappointment in my voice.
Derek grazes his teeth along his lower lip, shaking his head. “Never.”
“But you want to. With me.”
He nods. “You’re fucking delicious, Serena. Your taste. Your touch. But you have to understand, it wouldn’t mean anything. Not to me.”
I clamp my hands along his jaw and roll my eyes. “Derek. Enough already.”
I silence him with a kiss. A deep, dark kiss that summons all the resolve I have. I feel him breathe me in as our tongues slip and graze.
“Look.” I sigh, pulling away. “I can kiss you, just like that, and not feel a thing. I can sleep with you and not see hearts and butterflies. I’m not going to fall in love with you because we had sex. I wish you’d believe me when I say I don’t want anything from you. Not like that.”
He says nothing, just watches me, his studying eyes his silent rebuttal.
“I’m starting to think you’re the one with the attachment issues. Your constant need to remind me that you’re some kind of career bachelor is concerning, Derek. I mean, who are you trying to convince?” I climb off his lap. “Let’s just . . . not talk about it, okay? Let’s just do what feels good and forget the rest.”
“Fine.” He sighs, his back hunched and his hands resting on his muscled thighs. I could so crawl back onto his lap if I weren’t trying to prove a point right now.
“Anyway. Tonight was the first time I’ve felt halfway human in months.” I pick my towel off the floor, wrapping it around my body and gathering it under my arms with a tight grip. “So, thank you for setting aside your professional ethics and living a little.”
I wink, opting to leave this evening on a better note. Derek acts like he’s the only one with trust issues, the only one with an aversion to anything that makes the heart squeeze a little too tightly.
He couldn’t be more wrong.
Derek watches me leave, not trying to stop me this time, and I tiptoe back to my room and relax my tired muscles in a sea of cold pillows and sheets, dying to know if he’s replaying our night in his mind as much as I am.
Chapter 17
Derek
“Who’s Serena?” My mother doesn’t greet me with her traditional “hello, my love” when I pick Haven up Friday after work. She pulls the front door wide, her hands on her hip. “Haven hasn’t stopped talking about the ‘girl with the mermaid hair’ since Royal dropped her off earlier.”
“Oh, yeah?” I glance down at my daughter, perched at the foot of the steps, her tongue sticking out of the side of her mouth as she tries to maneuver her feet into fluorescent light-up shoes.
Preschoolers.
Can’t keep a secret for anything.
“Yes, Derek. So who is she? And why is she staying at your house?” My mother’s stare is unrelenting.
“She’s a friend. And it’s temporary.”
My mother knows me too well, which is why her lips mold into a deep frown in response to my casual answer.
“Come on, Haven.” I reach my hand out. “What do you want for dinner?”
“Don’t do this.”
“Don’t do what?”
“Don’t shut me out when I ask you a question.”
“You’re making something out of nothing.” I look past her. Haven’s skipping around my parents’ foyer “Come on, baby. Let’s go.”
“You’ve been divorced two years. You haven’t so much as mentioned a woman in my presence. And now your daughter says some woman is living with you.” Mom’s arms fold. “I’m allowed to pry. I’m your mother. It’s kind of my job.”
“Kind of.” I meet her gaze with a smile.
She swats my chest. “Don’t get smart with me. Who is she?”
“She’s a client.”
Mom takes a step back, slack-jawed. “Does . . . does your father know about this?”
“No, and I’d appreciate if it stayed that way until I get a chance to explain.”
“So you’ll tell him?”
My hesitation elicits a gasp from her. “You can’t keep things from your father. He’ll find out, and he’ll be very upset. And you know how he gets.”
Haven squeezes between my mother and me and slips her hand into mine.
“Which is why,” I say, “it’s in your best interest to pretend like this conversation never happened.”
We step onto the front porch, and Mom follows.
“Can I at least meet her?” she calls out. It’s a test.
“No, because it isn’t like that.” I tug Haven’s hand and we make a beeline for the sidewalk.
Mom stands on the front steps, watching me load my daughter into the backseat. “All right, Derek. I’m done prying. For now.”
“Grandma asks a lot of questions.” Haven wrinkles her nose. “Why does she ask so many questions, Daddy?”
“Because that’s what grandmas do,” I say, kissing her on the top of her head and breathing in the scent of her peach shampoo.
“Grandma Karen doesn’t ask that many questions.”
“Grandma Bliss is special.” I shut the door, finding my mother suddenly standing behind me.
“You will tell your father.” Mom gets the final word and struts back to the sidewalk before I can protest.
“Daddy?” Haven asks when we’re a couple of miles from my place.
“Yes, baby?”
“Do you think Serena has a pretty heart?”
I squint
, stifling a smile. Kids ask the most random questions, but this one feels a little heavier than what I’m used to from Haven.
“What does that mean?” I ask.
“Serena says a pretty heart is when you’re kind and nice to people.”
I could give her the complicated answer: the truth.
I don’t know Serena that well yet. I don’t know if she’s kind and nice to people. But she’s been nice to me. Nice enough, at least.
It’s been a long day, and I’m exhausted, so I give her the easy answer. “Yes, Haven. Serena has a lovely heart.”
“No, a pretty heart.”
“Okay. A pretty heart.”
“I gave Grandma half of my cookie today. Does that mean I have a pretty heart?”
“Yes. Yes, it does. That’s called sharing. It’s a nice thing to do.”
“Can Serena come to my birthday party?”
Haven’s question catches me off guard, and I almost blow through a four-way stop. We come to a hard stop, and I take a deep breath, wrapping my fingers tight around the steering wheel.
“I don’t know, baby,” I say. “Your birthday party is in two weeks. Serena might have plans then.”
“I asked her last night and she said to ask you.”
Damn it.
“All right. I’ll talk to her about it and let you know.” Lying to my soon-to-be four-year-old daughter isn’t a bright and shining moment in my life, but I’m not going to bother Serena about coming to my kid’s birthday party. Shit. I don’t even want to be there. Kyla chose a princess theme this year, and made damn sure no fewer than five of Haven’s favorite Disney princesses will be there in full costume.
If it were up to me, I’d take her to the zoo, let her feed a giraffe and ride a camel. Just the two of us.
“Aunt Demi invited us over for dinner tonight,” I change the subject.
“Yay! Aunt Demi!” Haven squeals from behind me, kicking the back of my seat. “Can Serena come?”
“What is your obsession with Serena?” I laugh.
“What does subseshon mean?” she asks.
“Never mind.” I shake my head and pull into the parking garage. Fuck it. We’ll invite Serena. The girl’s got to eat, and she’s technically a house guest. I shouldn’t make her fend for herself.
I pull into my spot and text Demi to set another place at the table. She’s going to freak out when she sees who I’m bringing. Wouldn’t be surprised if she stroked out. She’s never met a celebrity, as far as I know, and she seemed to know an awful lot about Serena last week.
The engine dies down, and I climb out and grab Haven, taking her hand as we head inside.
Haven skips, swinging my arm as we walk.
By the time we reach my apartment, gone are the sounds of the TV drifting from under the door. When the door pops open, the place is eerily silent.
“Serena,” I call.
No answer.
“Daddy, where’s Serena?”
The pit of my stomach is heavy and hard. We haven’t spoken since last night, when we fucked like two hormonal teenagers incapable of keeping our hands off each other. I haven’t experienced that little restraint since I met Kyla—when Kyla was someone else entirely. When Kyla was some kind of wonderful.
Or, as I like to say now, when Kyla was false advertising.
“Serena.” I try again.
Still no answer.
“Hang on, baby.” I release Haven’s hand and trudge down the hall. The room to the guest suite is open. All her things are there.
Except Serena. Serena is gone.
Chapter 18
Serena
I saunter down the sidewalk outside Derek’s building, my purse slung over a tired shoulder and my feet aching from the hours of small town exploring I did this afternoon.
I enjoyed a cupcake from a bakery. Lunched at a sidewalk café. Played with puppies at a pet store. And helped a group of little old ladies locate the antique store they drove seventy-eight miles to come see.
A black Infinity SUV pulls out of the parking garage and comes to a stop at the curb. The passenger window rolls down, and I step near.
“Hey.” I give a short wave, my body tensing at the sight of him as if it instantly remembers the toe-curling things he did to me fewer than twenty-four hours prior. “Where are you two headed? Hi, Haven.”
“Hi, Serena!” Haven waves. “We’re going to Aunt Demi’s. Want to come?”
I glance at Derek. “We’re going to my sister’s for dinner. Hop in. She’s setting a place for you.”
“Oh, um.” I could tell him I’m not hungry. That I stuffed myself all afternoon. That I’m not entirely sure I can sit across from him, with his family, no less, and not think a million dirty thoughts.
“Come on, Serena!” Haven beckons.
“Yeah.” Derek’s voice is dry. “Come on.”
I’m getting mixed vibes from him, and a cool sweat lines my spine. Does he want me to go? Does he not? Are we setting a dangerous precedence? Should I be meeting his family? What do they know about my situation?
“You really want me to come?” I direct my question to him.
“Yes.” He gives me a stock answer and wears an expression I can’t read.
I lift a brow, and a rampant breeze ruffles my hair around my face. It’s evening now and has grown colder. I’m dressed for a balmy spring afternoon.
Grabbing the door handle, I climb in, silencing the confused commentary littering my thoughts and buckling up instead.
“Was surprised to find you MIA when we got home,” he says several blocks down the road.
“Just went for a walk,” I say. “There are some really nice little shops in this area.”
“A note would’ve been nice.” He flips his turn signal, staring ahead.
“Am I in trouble?” I sort of snort.
“Nope. It’s just a courtesy thing.”
“I’m sorry.” I hide my chuckle with the back of my hand. If I’m lucky, maybe he’ll punish me later. “I’ll leave a note next time.”
“Appreciated.”
“My phone actually works here, you know. You could’ve called me.”
He reaches for the radio, turning up the Disney station to drown out our conversation.
“Were you worried about me?” I glance at him.
His car rolls to a stop at a red light, and he turns to me. “Yeah. I kind of was.”
No one has ever worried about me. Not even my own father. He always paid other people to worry about me.
“Anyway.” I exhale and rattle on about a pug puppy I held today named Munch. He’s six weeks old with the most endearing under bite, and I almost walked out of there with him in my pocket. I’m not in any position to have a dog. And I’ve never owned an animal of any variety. But he was the sweetest little guy with the biggest brown eyes, and it was a severe case of love at first sight.
“Daddy, can we get a puppy?” Haven yells over the music, which clearly does very little to keep her from hearing the goings-on up front.
“No.” Derek shuts it down.
We pull onto a highway, heading toward yet another small town. I think it takes a special kind of person to love the small town life. Someone with a content nature. Someone who loves peace and quiet and stillness. Someone perfectly capable of being alone with their own thoughts. Someone unconcerned with comparing their happiness to the person’s next door.
Derek certainly seems that way.
“My sister,” he says as we pull up to a yellow ranch on a wide corner lot. An older Subaru is parked in the drive. “May or may not freak out when she sees you.”
I smirk. “What? Why?”
“She’s . . . kind of a fan. Which I didn’t know until last week.”
I’ve run into fans all the time, even though the whole notion of a socialite heiress having fans makes absolutely no sense to me, but the moment Page Six talks about you or Us Weekly publishes a photo of you, you become somebody.
I didn’t have
a choice, but it is what it is. I have to respect that there are people out there who know my name and my business and that some of them believe they like me—the public version of me.
“It’s fine, Derek.” I unbuckle my seatbelt and step out, straightening my blouse and slipping my bag over my shoulder. “I’m sure she’s lovely.”
Derek takes Haven by the hand, leading her to the garage door, where he punches in a code and walks in like he owns the place. Maybe small town people do that? Small town families at least?
“Knock, knock.” He opens the garage entry door and pokes his head into what appears to be the kitchen. “We’re here.”
The scent of red sauce is carried on a breeze of warm air as we step inside.
A young woman with thick, dark hair piled high on her head is flitting around the kitchen, tending to boiling pots on the stove and a beeping timer on the oven.
“Hey, hey,” Demi calls out, her back toward us. “I’m just finishing up. You guys go have a seat in the living room. Royal will be home any minute.”
Haven kicks off her shoes and runs off like she’s been here a thousand times and knows exactly where to go.
Demi shoves a pair of oven mitts over her hands and pulls a pan of garlic bread from the oven, waving away the smoke that escapes before quieting the beeping timer.
Pulling the mitts off, she wipes her brow and turns to greet us, her eyes landing first on Derek and then on me.
She freezes, her mouth hanging. “Oh. Uh. I-I’m . . .”
“Serena, this is my sister, Demi. Demi, this is Serena Randall. She’s a client of mine, and she’s staying in Rixton Falls. Temporarily.” Derek’s hands are folded in front of his hips, and I wonder if he’s always this formal.
Demi’s smile rises and falls, her eyes nervous. The woman acts like she’s stuck between a hand-shake and a curtsy, so I do her a favor and lean in for a hug. I doubt anyone out here kisses cheeks, and I don’t want to freak her out anymore than she already is.
The Complete Rixton Falls Series Page 36