Beautiful Secret

by Christina Lauren

  George was already waving a finger at them both. “No, no, no, don’t you bring your foreplay to this table.”

  “This remodeling with Sara is a very . . .” Max continued carefully, never one to criticize his wife. “A very ongoing situation.”

  “Delicate,” Will added.

  Laughing, my brother murmured, “A touch.”

  The waiter placed my pint on the table and asked if we needed anything more. I went ahead and ordered a second—best to be prepared, after all. The waiter looked at each of us and then, satisfied we were done, turned to leave.

  Will leaned in as a strange hush overtook the table. “George. What about him? He’s cute . . . right?”

  “No!” George hissed. “That would be like fucking beef jerky.”

  “Good God,” Bennett muttered, wiping his palm down his face. “No one is even talking about fucking. It’s one party.”

  “Wait,” Will said, shaking his head. “George, you’re a top?”

  Groaning, Max said, “For the love of God, William, stop talking.”

  I couldn’t take it anymore. “What is happening here?”

  George ignored all of us. “Seriously, he’s pickled! He’s so tan I bet it’s reached his liver.”

  “I need someone to explain what is happening,” I repeated.

  “These two are idiots,” Chloe told me. “George needs to find a date to an RMG party, Will here is suggesting he ask our waiter. Obviously George is suggesting he’s not a suitable candidate.”

  “Sorry, ‘RMG’?” I asked.

  “Ryan Media Group,” George said. “Bennett decided to throw a soirée, and here I am, dateless. These boys are trying to help. It’s embarrassing to all of us. I’d really rather talk about what you’re going to do about Ruby.”

  I knew we would circle back to this. In fact, part of me needed to talk about it . . . oddly. I’d barely needed to talk about my divorce, but this had me twisted in unfamiliar ways.

  “I . . .” I stared down into my pint. “I don’t actually know.”

  Silence fell over the table. Finally, I admitted, “She told me she has feelings for me. In fact,” I said, looking up, “she’s had them for quite some time.”

  “One look at her and I knew that,” Bennett said.

  “Same,” George offered.

  “Ditto,” said Will.

  Max was the last to chime in. “I don’t really need to say anything, now do I?”

  “We nearly kissed today in the office,” I blurted, and for some reason every head whipped over to Bennett, who displayed his middle finger in a wide arc around the table. “Suffice to say it’s all moving a bit fast for me. I’ve only, well, we’ve worked together for months but I’ve only known her a matter of days.”

  “So what are you going to do?” Chloe said.

  “Well, I . . .” I started, and she continued to blink at me like I must be dense. “Like I said, I—”

  “She told you she has feelings. You almost kissed. You said it’s all moving a bit fast, so I’m guessing that’s why you’re here and she’s not.”

  “Yes,” I told her.

  “So either you’re interested, or you’re not.”

  “It isn’t that simple,” I said. “We work together.”

  Chloe waved her hand. “None of that matters.” When everyone gaped at her, she said, “What? It doesn’t! Obviously I don’t know all the details, but from what I hear, she’s a pretty, smart girl, and eventually she’ll be noticed by someone a lot smarter than you. Don’t be an idiot.”

  I laughed, taking a sip of my drink. “Cheers.”

  “As usual, Chloe cuts right to the chase.” My brother put a gentle hand on my arm. “Just call her. See if she wants to come down and join us?”

  Nodding, I stood and walked over to a quiet area of the bar, dialing her mobile.

  As it rang, it occurred to me that I’d never called her.

  That we hadn’t made plans for tonight.

  That she might have made plans, and maybe Chloe was right and someone smarter had noticed.

  “Hello?”

  I startled, having somehow talked myself out of the possibility of her answering. Inside, I was an enormous knot.

  “Hello?” A pause. “Mr. Stella?”

  I shivered at the sound of her voice. “Ruby. Call me Niall, yeah?”

  “Is everything okay?”

  “Would you care to come down for a bite to eat?”

  She hesitated on the other end, for what felt like an eternity.

  “Unless you have a . . .” I paused, fumbling for words. “That is to say, an agent . . . of . . . pleasure in your room.”

  Oh dear God—what did I just say?

  “An agent of pleasure?” she asked, and I could hear the restrained laughter in her voice, as well as the gentle slur of alcohol.

  I groaned quietly. “I mean company. Or plans. Ruby, I don’t mean to presume. I don’t even know if you’re—”

  She cut me off with a quiet laugh. “It’s almost midnight. I’m alone up here, I promise. But I just got out of the tub, I’ve had a cocktail or two, and ordered room service.”

  My brain tripped over the image of Ruby in the tub. Naked. Tipsy. Wet. Warm, soft skin. Muscles lax.

  “Ah. Well, right.”

  Ruby paused again. “I mean, I suppose I could . . .” Her words fell away.

  “No, Ruby, I don’t mean to . . . I just wanted to make sure you’d eaten. It was a long day. And we . . .” I closed my eyes, murmuring, “We . . . rather, I fear you’re out of sorts.”

  I could hear her breathing, so quick and shallow. I felt a tight pinch in my chest at the thought that she was anxious again, suffering in some way over me, or this. I knew I had the ability to do something for her . . . I simply didn’t know how to start.

  “I’m okay, I promise. Thank you.”

  We sat on the line for several long, wordless seconds. “Right, then. Good night, Ruby.”

  “Good night . . . Mr. Stella.”

  Returning to the table, I took my seat and lifted my second pint to my lips. I felt worse than I had before; I was bloody awful on the phone, which was saying something given that I was often awkward in person as well. When Max wordlessly asked whether Ruby would be joining us—with a small lift of his brow, an expectant expression—I shook my head. I wasn’t sure whether I was relieved or gutted that she wasn’t coming down. And then I settled on relieved, because I knew I wouldn’t be able to keep from moving to her, wishing for her hand on my leg, wanting to meet her eyes and see that the same longing was still there, and I would be shite at simply asking for it.

  Bloody hell.

  Bennett and Chloe had left, chased off by George, who said he’d rather light himself on fire than watch the two of them make out. I ordered a gin and tonic, then another, contributing to the conversation before eventually becoming lost in my own jumbled thoughts. I went from tangled, to calm, to tipsy, finally convincing myself it was a good idea, at one in the bloody morning, to go upstairs and see her.

  “Where you headed?” Max asked. “This is my one night a month out. No sodding way you’re cutting out early.”

  “Meetings all day tomorrow, mate. G’night.”

  I ignored their catcalls and continued on to the elevator, to the tenth floor, to the door that led to her room.

  My knuckles landed heavily on the wood; Jesus, even my knock sounded drunk.

  After a few tense seconds, the door opened and Ruby stood before me in a tiny pink silk tank top and matching shorts that barely covered her—

  Dear God.

  She weaved slightly against the door. “Everything okay, Mr. Stella?”

  I cleared my throat once, and then again. “Bloody hell. Do you always sleep in that?”

  “Yes . . .” she said, and I could hear her smile when she added, “unless there is an agent of pleasure in here with me.”

  Finally I could tear my eyes from the sight of her breasts, bare beneath the camisole. �
�You love to tease me.”

  Her tongue slipped out, wetting her lips. “Yeah.”

  I stood at the doorway, feeling like I must be looking at her the way a man would look at a woman he desired if he hadn’t had dinner, or sleep, or masturbated in days.

  “Do you want to come in?” she asked. “I’ll warn you. I’ve had a few cocktails. But I do have a few items left unclaimed in the minibar if you like Midori or Jägermeister.”

  “I shouldn’t touch you,” I blurted and immediately squeezed my eyes closed. “Sorry. I’ve been drinking as well, and . . .” Opening my eyes, I looked at her face. She was smiling, looking . . . relieved. “I don’t know why I’m here. I couldn’t stop thinking about what happened today, and how much I wanted to see you. But I really shouldn’t touch you, Ruby.”

  I could see her pulse in her neck. I could tell that she was trembling.

  “You shouldn’t?” she asked. “Or you don’t want to?”

  Without answering and without really thinking about what I was doing, I stepped forward, moving into her room. She took a step back, letting the door close behind me. The thud reverberated in the quiet.

  “Is it really true what you said earlier?” I asked. “You think about this? With me?”

  She flushed, from her neck to her cheeks, but still managed to sound brave when she said, “Yeah.”

  She’d stopped moving but I hadn’t. I kept drifting forward until I was barely an inch away from her. In fact, I could feel her breath on my neck. Could smell the sweetness of orange juice, the sharp tang of vodka on her lips.

  This is stupid, Niall. Get the hell out of this room.

  “What do you think about?” I asked.

  “Having you in my hotel room.” She smiled, looking at my lips. “As an agent of pleasure.”

  Laughing a little, I ran my hand down my face, admitting, “These past few days . . . I think about it, too. You’ve hijacked my brain.”

  “Is that bad?”

  I looked down at her. She looked nervous but also confident; I was here in her room; she’d regained at least some of the power between us. “No, it’s not a bad thing. I’m just not sure I know what to do with you.” I had no idea why I said this, but it didn’t seem to trip her up in the slightest.

  “We’d figure it out together.”

  Meeting her eyes, I asked, “Would we?”

  Ruby nodded, reaching out and putting her hand on my chest. “I understand you. I think you understand me, too.”

  I swallowed, at a loss for words.

  “I’d tell you what I like,” she whispered. “You’d tell me what you need.”

  She ran her hand down my chest, over my stomach, and then—just before she reached my belt—she let it fall away.

  I should leave. I should go to my room and let us both sleep it off.

  Looking up at me, she asked, “What do you need?”

  “This,” I said. “The odd certainty I feel when I’m this close to you. The way you look at me.”

  Her wide eyes searched mine. “A lot of women look at you this way.”

  “No, you’re wrong. Maybe they look at me the way men look at you—where it’s clear they want you, and are thinking of you sexually—but not the way you do, where it feels you can see beneath my skin.” Pausing, I added, “Besides, I’ve never been one to want ‘a lot of women.’ ”

  Her smile was so radiant, I forgot whatever else I was going to say.

  My heart was beating so hard in my chest that I felt unsteady. It seemed to mix potently with the alcohol, and yet I never wanted this feeling to end. I’d never experienced a rush like this. She was so close, smelling of rose water and the indescribable scent of a woman. She would fit so perfectly tucked into my chest, beneath my chin. Or riding me, with her legs around my waist, her chest slick with our sweat.

  “Ruby, what are we doing?”

  She tucked her hair behind her ear, laughing a little. “You’re the one who came to my room. I think we’re both a little drunk. You tell me.”

  “I . . . I’d like to explore this.”

  Her smile straightened into something more earnest. “Me, too.”

  “But maybe tonight isn’t the night. I shouldn’t touch you.” Maybe once I’ve said it a hundred times, I’ll believe it. “We’ve been drinking. I want to be sober if . . .”

  She closed her eyes, and the disappointment was evident on her face. And then, a transformation occurred: Ruby opened her eyes, looked up at my face, and in an instant went from guarded to mischievously coy. She turned, walking into the room a few feet and picking up a slip from the bed. “But if you did, how would you touch me?” she asked, folding the garment neatly before placing it in an open drawer in front of her.

  I barely had to consider the question before my answer burst forward: “Desperately.” I took a step toward her.

  “Roughly?”

  “I—no,” I spluttered, “I wouldn’t ever—”

  “I like thinking of you touching me roughly,” she interrupted, calming me with a smile. Another piece of fabric lay on the bed—a tank top, I believe—and she reached for it, examining the hem before she set it in the drawer, too. “Of your big gentle hands shaking, needing to touch me, and you’re so impatient.”

  “I would be,” I admitted, and when she looked up at me, asking me with her eyes for more, I murmured, “I am.” I could barely catch my breath; at my sides, my hands were shaking. “I try to be careful, but it’s a wasted effort.”

  She pushed the dresser closed with her hip, and took a step toward me. “You pull off my clothes before we can even make it to the bed,” she agreed, playing along as she lifted her hand, fingering the strap of her camisole, waiting for me to stop her.

  I couldn’t in a million years.

  Sliding her hands down over her breasts and lower, to the hem of the garment, she began to lift it up, over her head . . . and off.

  My heart stopped and when it started again, it was ten times too large, ten times too fast.

  Ruby dropped the silk to the floor without looking away from my face.

  Her chest was bared to me, lush curves, small, pink nipples, and perfect, pale skin. I swallowed, fighting the savage tempo of my pulse. I wanted to touch her, kiss her. I wanted to lie on top of her, move inside of her.

  She took one step backward, and then turned, walking away from me and over to the bed.

  “Ruby.” I had no point to make. Her name was just an instinctive utterance. Nearly a plea.

  “You touch my breasts like you know them.” She turned back to face me, running her hands over the swells, pushing them together, roughly pinching the blush peaks. “You suck them. Like you’re greedy.”

  Christ. “I am greedy.”

  “You love my breasts. You’re filthy with them, sometimes.”

  I nearly choked. Never in my life had I played such a game. “I am?”

  “You are. You rub yourself all over them.”

  I felt my skin flush, my body pulsing beneath my trousers at the intended meaning. “Myself . . . ?”

  “Your cock.”

  My mouth watered, and I stared at her lips, imagining her kissing me there.

  “But right now, you want me naked.” It was a question, innocently buried in confidence.

  She hooked her thumbs in her shorts, daring me again to stop her.

  I nearly had to shove my fist into my mouth to keep from groaning aloud. The drink made me bold: “I do.”

  She slid her shorts down her hips, swaying seductively for me, easing the silk down her thighs. She wore no underwear beneath, and her naked form was smooth, soft. I’d never seen anything more beautiful in my life.

  “You like looking at me,” she said, but this one wasn’t a question. No doubt my expression telegraphed my every thought to her.

  Like how I wanted to climb over her, be as greedy and filthy with her body as she suggested.

  Like how I wanted to do something as innocent as touch the slickness between he
r legs with my fingers.

  Swallowing heavily, I told her, “You’re the only thing I want to look at, darling.”

  Ruby lowered herself onto the bed, pushing her body to the middle of the mattress, and then lay back, letting her knees fall to the sides. “So . . . look.”

  Without shame, I stared between her spread legs. Blood pounded in my ears and I leaned against the armoire for support. “Christ.”

  She ran her fingers up her legs, from her knees to her thighs. And then, while I watched, she ran the fingers of one hand along the wet skin of her sex.

  “You like to taste me, too,” she whispered.

  I could only swallow and nod. Nothing in the world would pleasure me more.

  “But you tease me.”

  I looked up at her face upon hearing the pout in her voice, feeling my brows draw together. “I do?”

  “Yes,” she whined sweetly. “It’s awful. You make me beg for your mouth on my clit.”

  Her . . . clit? I wiped a palm down my face, dizzy. All of this—all of it—was spinning so quickly out of control. “What . . . that is to say, how do I do that?”

  Offering a tiny one-shouldered shrug, she said, “You kiss my thighs, and my lips just here.” She circled her fingers between her legs. “You lick where I’m wet, too.” Sliding her index finger lower, it soon glistened with her arousal. “See where I get wet?”

  I nearly pitched forward onto the bed. My voice was barely audible: “And quite.”

  “But that’s how you tease me. You never lick me here.” She moved her fingers higher, circling her clitoris only once. “At least not until I’m nearly crying for it.”

  I took a step closer to the bed. “That seems a bit unsporting of me.”

  Ruby giggled, tipsy, smiling up at me. “It does, doesn’t it?”

  With blood pounding through my veins, I began to feel the power I had over her body. Simply look at her. It was impossible to ignore how she was responding to this. “But it’s only because I love the flush of your skin when you start to need it, darling.”

  Her lips parted, letting out a sharp exhale. “But I do need it.”

  “No . . . you still only want it,” I corrected her. “And I rather like the taste of your thighs instead.”