“What was that about, Serena? What did Evan do to you?” Kathryn’s voice trembles slightly. She’s showing subtle chinks in her rich-bitch façade.
“Does it matter, Mother?” Serena plants her hands on her hips. “You fat-shamed me when I was a teen; so did he. The difference is that you were my mother and should have known better. Evan did it on a bet to humiliate me.”
“Enough, Serena.” Harrison is calm. Too calm. He knew. On this, I would have liked to have been wrong.
Kathryn bridges the distance between her and Serena. “Don’t listen to your father. Tell me more.”
“Evan was dared to kiss the fat girl on my sixteenth birthday. I was mocked and ridiculed. He bragged to his friends and got the golden ticket into the Ellis Corporation. Daddy exiled me and Lucas but gave an asshole like Evan the keys to the castle. Nice to know where his actual children stand.” Serena glares at her father. His lack of response is pissing her off, I suspect. Her cheeks are flushed, and she’s using a lot of hand gestures. This must be what she was like during that Thanksgiving. A force to be reckoned with. One that I’m completely enamored with.
If anyone needs my protection, it certainly isn’t Serena. She’s handling herself like a pro. “Mother, Father…I hate to break this to you, but I’m dating Christian—a hockey player. I realize that this may be your worst nightmare since Lucas came out, but you need to accept it. I won’t end our relationship because you want me to.”
“Is that why you insisted on bringing him here?” Harrison’s voice is like thunder. “To laud it over us? To insult us?”
“No, I came to support Serena and to let you know that I care about her. We’ve done nothing wrong. Your company isn’t in danger. The Nighthawks organization has issued a press release and the media has already backed off.” I stand my ground, arms crossed over my chest.
“Serena, what are you thinking?” Her mother releases an exaggerated sigh, clutching her pearls. She is the epitome of an old-school socialite stereotype. “Why didn’t you say something earlier?”
“Because you wouldn’t have cared, Mother.” Serena waves her finger in the air, pointing at Kathryn.
Kathryn shakes her head. “Is that why you’ve always defied us?”
“Yes, you continue to defy us with a so-called business that is nothing but a hobby, not a career.” Her father is quick to judge.
Serena laughs. “You have never supported any of my decisions, let alone my career. Not once. I don’t expect you to now.”
Mrs. Ellis scoffs.
“Since I’m revealing truths, try this one on for size. Mother…Father, I don’t want your approval. I don’t want to fit into your life. I’m happy being me and thinking for myself.”
Harrison is red-faced and clearly fuming. Kathryn is pale, slack-jawed. I expect her daughter’s admissions were news to her. Serena then walks over to an expensive crystal decanter and runs her fingers around the rim.
Her mother gasps. Her grandmother, Savannah, hoots like it’s on. Like that decanter is going to fly across the room. I think Savannah is dying to throw it herself.
“People who live in glass houses should learn to accept that they can’t control everyone.” Serena grabs her purse from the bar. “After all these years, you never learn. The more you try to control us, the more Lucas and I pull away. We’re not like you and never will be. We don’t want to be.”
“This is your influence, Mother.” Harrison Ellis turns on Savannah. “You filled her head with foolish dreams and gave her that brownstone, gave her the money to start this ridiculous business.”
“Kiss my behind, Harrison.” Savannah places her glass on a nearby table with a loud clink. “I didn’t raise you to be this stuck-up, bigoted pain in the rear. Neither did your father, bless his heart. He would be ashamed of you.”
Harrison Ellis’s jaw drops in the most undignified way.
Savannah turns to Serena. “No need for more torture, darlin’. You’ve had your say. Let’s go.”
We grab the elevator together. In the lobby, Savannah hugs me again, this time with a gentle squeeze. “Thanks for supporting my girl. It’s nice to know Serena has one more person in her corner.”
“Would you like a ride home? We have a car waiting.” Serena kisses her grandmother’s cheek.
Her grandmother embraces her. “I have one too. Can’t keep my date waiting.”
With that, she breezes onto the bustling street like a woman much younger than her years.
“You were right. She’s a force of nature.” I watch as Serena texts our driver that we’re ready. Her fingers tremble, and she is making lots of typos.
I reach for it. “Let me.” Then I type our message to the driver. Once it’s sent, I notice that Serena can’t stand still, her rage palpable. I don’t know who upset her more: Asshole, Harrison, Kathryn, or a combination of the three.
“Talk to me.” Cupping her face in my hands, my tone is encouraging. “Or not. Whatever you want. Just know that you kicked ass and took no prisoners. You had your say, and they heard it.”
If I sound proud of her, it’s because I am. In truth, I’m in awe of Serena…of her strength, courage, and ability to call her parents and Asshole out on their shit. I’ve yet to confront my father. Sure, I rebelled against him, and fought with him, but not recently. There’s so much I have to say, and yet I’ve kept it buried. Serena did what I haven’t—at least not recently. It makes me want her more than I did on the way here.
Leaning my forehead against hers, I add, “You were so hot up there.”
“Me? What about you?” She slides her palms beneath my suit coat, to the small of my back, letting her fingers rest just beneath my waistband. “You were scorching up there. All alpha, all I can outdo you. All I don’t give a shit how much money you have. All I want to do is rip every piece of clothing from your body and take you here and now.”
I caress her cheek with the pad of my thumb. “We’re waiting until we get to your place. Then I’m going to undress you slowly and make love to you in the deepest, most sensual way.”
We settle in the car, where the privacy glass is still in place. Serena tosses her purse on the seat beside her, then slowly peels her thong down past her thighs, to her calves, and over her heels. She places it in my jacket pocket. “Something for you to think about.”
Serena crosses her legs, flashing her delectable thighs as she yanks her skirt up an inch or two. My throat gets moist and my pulse quickens. I get off on her…on her teasing me, seducing me, and the wicked grin on her face when she knows she has me right where she wants me. It’s taking all of my self-control to resist the urge to fuck her now. But I want us to be more than sex.
I want more. Of us…whatever we may be. I want more than sex. I want more of her—this woman who has taken my life by storm and made me doubt everything I once believed in.
“You’re conflicted.” Serena sidles up my lap, straddling me as she meets my eyes with her intense gaze, the deep blue of a stormy sea. “It doesn’t matter where we make love, you know.”
Running her fingernails through my beard, she exhales, then nips my earlobe with her teeth. My body hardens in immediate response. She exudes sex appeal and raw yearning. It makes me rethink my plan.
“It’s okay to be conflicted. It’s also okay to give in to temptation.” She leans forward, flipping her blond curls over her shoulder with a throaty chuckle while her skirt hikes up higher still. It’s an invitation. A wicked invitation I can’t refuse.
Slowly, methodically, my palms inch up her thighs. I savor every plane and contour, every soft spot that is incomparably Serena. Up farther my fingertips trail, past a raised birthmark on her thigh. I remember it. In truth, I remember every sexy, glorious, incredible inch of her. When I reach her bare ass, it feels more silken than I remember. My heart slams against my chest and I squeeze her cheeks to
steady myself. She gasps, her full lips so close to mine that her minty breath fans my face. No matter how badly my body aches to fuck her now, no matter how painful the throbbing in my erection, I want to wait even more.
“Where we make love next matters to me.” The truth hits me like a punch to the gut. It does matter to me. More than she can ever know. I care for Serena. In a way that has affected how I move forward. No matter how much I want backseat sex, and I do want backseat sex with this woman, my desire to savor her slowly is more compelling. Even more earthshattering is that I want her to want me in the same way. I swallow hard against the lump in my throat. I want to make her want more from me than hot sex.
Make her want more from me than hot sex. This isn’t me, not the me I used to know. It’s as if the man I once knew has been commandeered by someone desperate to be desired by Serena. Only, I am that man now. It is me. This is how meeting her has transformed me.
I know she cares; she admitted it. I care, too, though I haven’t admitted it. Because it’s more than that. I want her to feel what I feel—to experience the deep, all-consuming craving that I feel. I know she’s attracted to me. I know how her body reacts to me. My palms slide from her ass cheeks to her pussy. She gasps, jerking her head back at the same moment my hand covers her sex. Yeah, I turn her on. So much so that she’s already wet for me. “Not until we get to your place.” I give her clit a gentle stroke and she pouts.
“You’re a tease.”
That’s not who I want to be. Not anymore. While being the sexual dynamo who gets her wet with my touch is a turn-on, I want to be more than a great fuck who makes dirty love to her; I want to be more than a bad boy who will stand up to her parents. I want to be her everything. Because…well, because she has quickly become that for me. Sure, the team is still number one. But, Serena is high up there on that short list of mine.
What if she doesn’t want the me I’m offering her? What if she never does? Then what? Shit, I don’t want to consider it. Suddenly, the guy who strategizes like no other has got nothing. No way to make this woman want me, need me, as much as I do her. I hold her as fear seizes control of me. I don’t like feeling like I have no control over my life, yet here I am, allowing Serena the power to destroy me.
Crushing Serena against my chest, I hold her for the rest of our ride. Serena caring about me isn’t enough anymore. I want it all. All of her. I want a relationship with her. A commitment, however slight.
It’s time to see if she wants the real me, or just sex. With every block traveled, every traffic light, every mile, my panic becomes more and more palpable until I dread arriving at Serena’s place. Her reaction to my next proposal will make me or break me. I know it. Soon, so will she.
What do I detest more than the Christian Chase public persona? Being vulnerable. Damn it, I brought this on myself.
Out of all of my opposing teams, all the players, all the brawls, none ever held the power to destroy me like a socialite clothing designer from Manhattan. The Frank Sinatra song didn’t warn me about this.
Thanks a lot, Frank.
Chapter 11
Serena
Chris hasn’t said much since we got out of the car. Well, he hasn’t said anything, the more I think about it. Instead he led me to my bedroom in silence, pinning me against the wall. Nipping, kissing, suckling my neck—his lips and tongue are hypnotic. Because he is taking his time. Sweet and gentle, warm and commanding—his kisses are a series of contradictions, like the man himself.
I remove his jacket from his broad shoulders, placing it gently on the overstuffed chair next to us. His tie is next, and I loosen the knot just enough to unbutton his shirtfront and remove the fine fabric. I keep the tie on, admiring how it falls on his broad chest in the natural light that still illuminates my bedroom. Flattening my palm against his chest, I explore every plane and hard, contoured muscle. This guy should be bronzed.
Then that ping of doubt settles within. The one that makes me wonder what he’s doing with me. No matter how uninhibited I feel when we make love, the doubts still seep in at times like this. Though it’s a fleeting insecurity, it happens too often than I care to admit.
The closer I get to him, the more emotionally invested I become. That’s why my doubts gnaw at me, especially when I see him for the perfect male specimen he is. I judge him based upon his appearance. No amount of my insecurities warrants that, any more than I would condone someone judging me based upon my size.
Take Evan as an example. He judged me those many years ago. Still does. Taking his jabs at me, in front of Christian of all people. The rage that overtook me was close to boiling to the surface. Too close. If Christian hadn’t slid his hand around my waist and given Evan the proper dress-down he deserves, I probably would have punched Asshole in the face. I’d already clenched my free hand into a tight fist when he dared to say he taught me how to kiss.
No, he taught me heartbreak, taught me that people will take advantage, taught me that even those we trust most can be cruel. He also taught me to see the world through open eyes. As much as I despise him, I have Evan to thank for my realization that my parents’ world, Asshole’s world, isn’t where I belong. I made a choice, because Evan’s prank woke me up and made me stronger, made me a fighter.
I know where I belong. With my brother, with my grandmother, with my friends…with Chris, the man who takes the time to see the real me. It’s because of this that I slide his tie off, pressing my lips against his and coaxing for entrance until his tongue probes mine.
We’re one now. He knows me, knows how I like to be kissed, caressed, and held. This time is different, though. This is even more sensual, more prolonged, more emotional. His sultry eyes still emanate desire, but there’s a deeper meaning. His gaze is thoughtful. It’s as if I’m staring into his soul and there’s no bravado, just vulnerability. Raw and uncensored. Unlike I’ve ever seen him.
Chris breaks eye contact as his fingers fumble with the buttons beneath my hair at my neck, then slips the fabric from my shoulders. It slides down, freeing my breasts. Then he works on the zipper at my side and my dress pools at my feet. Completely naked in front of him, with no dim light to hide behind, every blemish is visible. Every birthmark, every curve, every imperfect lump. Yet he covets my body with a tender touch and reverent gaze.
“You are beautiful.” His baritone is a husky whisper filled with admiration. He then lifts me, and I straddle him as we head to the bed.
Setting me down gently, Chris removes his pants. He’s wearing blue boxer briefs today. “You wore underwear to meet my parents? You broke your commando rule?” I find this charming.
He settles on top of me and nips my nipple with his teeth. “Going commando is new. Since meeting you, I feel free.”
“And here I thought it was for easy access.” I kick my heels off and wrap my leg around his as he kisses me again. It’s gentle, feather soft, and leaves my insides fluttering.
When he pulls away, his expression is serious. “What are we?” he asks, placing his palm on my breast. His question is so far out of left field that I’m at a loss for words.
As if sensing my confusion, he admits, “I planned to make slow love to you, but that isn’t enough. Not anymore.”
“Why?” I’m confused, and he avoids eye contact with me. My first thought is what did I do? What a dumb question! I mean, seriously. I brought him to see my parents. That was a stupid move. Sure, he handled it great, but I must look like a maniac. Or someone to be pitied. Maybe he felt like he had to protect me because no one else would. Because of Evan’s cruelty. Because I’m pathetic, especially to a virile sports titan.
I’ve yet to get an answer from him and do the only thing I know how—pull away, wrapping myself in the throw at the end of my bed. Covering my flaws, hiding behind the soft blanket.
“I should never have brought you today. It isn’t your place to protect
me.” I clutch the cashmere tighter around me so I’m less exposed. It’s true. I shouldn’t have allowed Chris to come with me today. We’re not dating. We’re not in a serious relationship. It’s too soon for couples with normal families to meet the parents, let alone couples whose parents are train wrecks like mine.
Chris rubs the stubble on his chin, staring at the stitching in the comforter beneath us. “Truth is, I wanted to go. That’s when I knew.”
“Knew what?” My stomach plummets. He’s breaking things off with me and doesn’t know how to let me down gently. I begin to tremble and wrap the throw even tighter around me. It’s a protective barrier akin to the brave front I’ll put on. After all, I’ve been through worse. Evan is proof of that.
I straighten my posture and study Chris’s profile. “It’s okay to have second thoughts. After what you witnessed today, I would want to run from my family drama, too. You don’t owe me anything. This has been fun, but—”
“This is more than fun. That’s why—” He finally meets my eyes. “I need something from you.”
“Okay,” I agree before I even know what he’s asking for.
He studies my duvet, tracing the seams. “Can you…”
Two words, lingering. Leaving me hanging to the point that they infuriate me. “Can I what? For the love of God, just say it already.”
“Can you really see yourself with a guy like me?” Scratching his beard, he releases a ragged sigh. “I mean, sure, I’m the bad boy who enrages your parents. But, seriously. Can you honestly tell me that you can see a future. With me?”
“Can I see a future with you?” I reach for his chin and tilt it toward me, cupping his beard in my palms. I love the itchy feel to it. “Why wouldn’t I?”
In my heart, it already feels like we’re committed to each other, if I’m being honest with myself. I just haven’t allowed myself to hope he feels the same, or to think of a future with him…to imagine what that future would look like. My answer has failed to lift his spirits. That’s when I read between the lines. He wants an admission from me. Because alluding to caring for him isn’t enough. He needs words.
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