CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
ONCE AGAIN, MEG stood outside the door to John’s hotel room.
Part of her wanted to break through it without even knocking, because she couldn’t bear to be so close to him and not touch him.
The rest of her wanted to run away without seeing him. Because after their week together, he had to say goodbye, right? And if she didn’t enter this room, if he didn’t see her, he couldn’t say goodbye, and he couldn’t leave.
“Why are you just standing there again?” Meg jolted when John opened the door a crack, laughing breathlessly.
“Why are you watching me like a creeper again?” She smiled up at him, but when she saw the sadness she felt reflected on his face, her throat thickened.
She’d already cried more in front of this man than she had in front of anyone outside her family.
She refused to let one of his last images be of her with tears streaming down her face.
“Do you still have that whiskey?”
He nodded silently, stepping aside to let her in. The bottle remained unopened on the table. She could feel him follow her over, rubbing her shoulders lightly as she cracked the bottle open.
“Want a glass?”
She shook her head. Instead, she tipped the bottle up to her lips and took a long swallow. She tasted sweet caramel and juicy pears before she felt the burn, and she drew the sting in close, allowing it to replace the impending tears.
One more swallow, then she turned and handed the bottle to John. He took it from her but didn’t lift it to his mouth.
“Going to make me drink alone?” She smiled, suddenly so very tired—of wondering what was between them, of hiding it. She wanted to just put it out of her mind, just for last time.
“Take off your dress.” As always, he seemed to pick her needs right out of the air.
Feeling warm and loose from the whiskey, she brought her hands to her chest, cupping her breasts. Sliding her hands down, she caught the short hem, then lifted.
Triumph surged when she raised the skirt above her waist and he hissed like he was in pain.
“No panties.” His voice was hoarse, and now he took a sip of the alcohol. “Good girl.”
“No bra, either.” She blinked at him innocently as she pulled the dress the rest of the way up and over her head, savoring the wave of pride when he groaned out loud.
Next thing she knew, she was on her back on the bed. She cried out when he pulled her to the edge of the mattress. Kneeling between her knees, he wrapped her legs around his neck, still holding the bottle of liquor.
“I told you not to wear panties. I didn’t say anything about not wearing a bra.” He grinned down at her wickedly. “I’m not sure if I should reward or punish you.”
She shifted restlessly on the bed, aware of just how exposed she was.
“Maybe this will be a little bit of both.”
Propping herself up on her elbows, she gasped when her sex was bathed with cool liquid.
“John.” She moaned, falling back when he set the bottle down and placed his hands on the soft skin of her inner thighs, holding her open.
“The whiskey is good,” he informed her as he dipped his head, “but I bet it’s going to be even better this way.”
She jolted when he pressed his lips to her sex. Swiping his tongue through her, he quickly focused in on her clit, circling the tight bundle of nerves with laser focus.
She writhed beneath the onslaught, that now-familiar tidal wave building inside her. She was on edge within moments as he sipped the whiskey from her flesh, so lost in sensation that she barely noticed him dampening his finger with more whiskey before sliding it beneath her.
Moving slowly, he traced a path through her cheeks to her rear entrance, pressing against the tight bud. She gasped as nerves sparked to life, and when he caught her gaze and tilted his head, questioning if this was all right, she could only nod frantically as she moaned.
Breaching the tight ring of muscle, he worked his finger inside her. She stiffened at the strange sensation, not entirely sure if she liked it or not, but then he lowered his mouth to her clit again. As with the spanking, the discomfort hit a flash point that transformed the sensation into pure, wicked pleasure, and she found herself clutching at the back of his head as guttural sounds left her lips.
“Please. Oh please. Oh God.” She could feel herself lifting, rising as though leaving her body, and then everything was bright and white, and she was coming harder than she ever had in her life. He crooked a finger inside her when she started to come down, and she shot straight back up, rocking her hips against his lips and his touch as wetness surged between her thighs.
“Damn.” His face was flushed, his breath coming hard as he withdrew his finger and slid his hand into his pocket.
“Come back,” she begged as he withdrew a condom and tore into it with his teeth as he fumbled with his zipper, pulling his pants down and off. He sheathed himself quickly, tearing off his shirt, too, as he ranged himself out over her body. Pressing the head of his erection to her soaked entrance, he slid home in one thrust, making her gasp at the sudden fullness.
“It’s not enough.” Helpless, she grabbed his biceps, his shoulders, pulling him in tight. “More.”
Gripping her behind one knee, he lifted her leg and wrapped it around his hip. Brow furrowing with concentration, he began to move harder, then harder still. She cried out every time he bottomed out inside her, her pleasure snapping tight like shock waves every time he hilted.
A few more thrusts and she heard—she’d swear she actually heard it—something snap in the air. Looking up into his eyes, she saw the last shreds of her sanity dissolve, and then they were both wild, moaning and growling and grabbing and nipping. She came seconds before he did, her sex clutching at him greedily as she went molten around him. He pumped into her one final time, holding her close as he emptied himself inside her.
As they stilled, her breath rasped as though she’d just run a marathon. Sweat slicked their skin, sealing them together.
She loved him. She was so stupid, but how could she not?
He was going. He was leaving tomorrow.
This sucked.
His gaze searched her face as she pressed her lips together, shaking her head. He inhaled but didn’t ask, instead pressing a kiss to her forehead before slowly pulling out.
“I’ll be right back.” She watched him pad across the room to the bathroom, admiring the view, possibly for the last time.
The thought had her struggling to a sitting position. She reached for the whiskey that he’d set on the floor and took a hearty swallow. Over the rim of the bottle, she watched him return. He took the bottle when she offered, taking a sip himself before setting it on the bedside table. Then he pulled back the covers and patted the bed.
Crawling up the mattress, she lay down beside him. She burrowed her face into his chest as he wrapped his arms around her.
“I don’t think this is normal.” His voice was soft but still made her whip her head up so that she could see his face.
“What do you mean?”
“This... Whatever this is between us.” He grimaced when he saw the disbelief on her face. “That came out wrong. I mean... What we’re feeling here for each other. I don’t think it’s something that happens often. And don’t deny that there’s something here. You know it just as well as I do.”
“John, I—” Oh, why was he making this harder? It wouldn’t change anything. It couldn’t. “You can’t stay. I can’t go. So what difference does it make?”
She wanted to say it then. Wanted to tell him she loved him, but that wasn’t fair—not to either of them.
He exhaled harshly into her hair. “I’m going to miss you so goddamn much.”
“I’m not going to disappear, John.” She swallowed thickly. “We can talk on the phone or t
ext or email. We can still be friends.”
“It’s not going to be the same.”
She opened her mouth to tell him it would be okay, but she couldn’t spit the words out, because she knew he spoke the truth.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
BANG.
Bang.
Bang.
“What the hell?” John bolted upright. Beside him, Meg gasped, startled, clutching the sheet to her chest.
“Forget to pay your bill?” She raised her eyebrows at him. “Order super aggressive room service?”
“Whoever it is, they can go the hell away.” Highly resentful of the intrusion into their remaining minutes, which were ticking away, he turned back to Meg. “I haven’t ordered anything. Though now that you mention it, that whiskey was awfully good when I licked it off your skin. Maybe we should order some champagne and do another taste test.”
The pounding came again, more insistent this time.
“Oh God,” Meg said, tossing the covers off and scrambling to find her dress off the floor. “Whoever it is wants in here, and they’re not happy.”
“Shit,” John said under his breath and grabbed his pants from the floor to pull them on. He padded to the door, looking cautiously through the peephole. His chest constricted when he saw who was on the other side.
He mouthed the words it’s Theo.
“I’ll be in the bathroom.” Meg tugged her dress over her head, smoothing out the skirt.
“Don’t.”
“Don’t what?” She froze, looking between him and the door questioningly.
“Let’s just do this. Let’s tell him, together.” He stood there, shocked into stillness at his own words, waiting for her response.
“What? Why?” She shook her head, her long locks brushing over her bare shoulders, the same shoulders he’d pressed hot, openmouthed kisses to only minutes ago. “That doesn’t make any sense.”
“I’m not saying I have all the answers.” He rocked back on his heels, incredibly conscious of his angry friend on the other side of the door. “But there’s something here. We both know it. We’ll figure it out.”
“John. If there was a way to figure it out, we already would have.” Her blue eyes met his in a challenge. “I’m not going to needlessly hurt Theo or anyone else in my family when we both know there’s no answer here.”
Tearing her gaze from his, she ducked into the bathroom and, feeling like he’d just been sucker punched, the air left his lungs in a whistling whoosh. He took a deep breath, then another and glanced at himself in the mirror. A groan crawled out of his throat when he caught his reflection. Sex. Staring back was a guy who’d just had sex. No. Correction: a guy who’d just made love to the woman he was head over heels in love with.
Fuck me.
He scrambled to dress, to make himself somewhat presentable, even though he knew it was a lost cause. Theo was still pounding on the door, and the din was giving John a goddamn headache. Christ, someone was sure to call security if he didn’t stop.
Maybe he’d call them himself. That was an idea. Then he could stay cocooned in here with Meg for just a little while longer.
“Answer the damn door,” Meg hissed from the bathroom. And he knew she was right—the spell had been broken.
It was done.
He reluctantly walked to the door, unlocked it and swung it open, bracing his shoulders.
“Hey, Theo,” he said, the fight going out of him the second he set eyes on his friend. Theo’s mother had been Brazilian, and his friend had inherited the passionate nature of the people of his mother’s home country.
He hissed out a breath at John, practically breathing fire.
“Where’s Meg?” he demanded, his nostrils flaring, his hands fisted at his sides. “And don’t lie to me. I’ve had enough of your lies, John.”
John stood there for a second. If Meg didn’t want Theo to know she was here, he couldn’t out her, but he couldn’t lie to his friend any longer, either. It had to come to an end, now. He opened his mouth, not sure what he was about to say when the bathroom door clicked open.
“I’m right here,” Meg said, stepping from the bathroom fully dressed, her sweet lips swollen and bruised from John’s kisses, her hair still a beautiful tumbled mess that reminded him of all the times she’d put herself in his hands, his to do with as he pleased.
This pain—what was this? It felt like he was being torn in two.
“You’re coming with me,” Theo said to the woman he considered a sister, jerking his thumb over his shoulder. “Now.”
“Nice try,” Meg said, her eyes shooting daggers as she planted her feet. “I’m a grown woman, Theo. No one, including you, gets to tell me what to do or who I can do it with.”
John leaned against the bureau as he watched his two favorite people square off—because of him. He didn’t want this. He didn’t want to be the guy responsible for fighting or family disputes. But watching them reminded him that he wasn’t good enough for Meg. His best friend thought the same, otherwise he wouldn’t be here, demanding she leave with him.
“Does Jo know you’re here, acting like an ass?” Meg asked.
“No.” Theo winced a bit as he paced two steps in, then two steps back to the door. “She’d kick my ass if she knew.”
“I’m about to kick your ass.” Meg’s eyes shot blue fire. “What is your problem?”
Theo turned to John, his eyes flaring with unchecked rage he seemed to be having a hard time controlling. “I thought Meg was smarter than this.”
“Hey,” Meg bit out. “If you have something to say to me, I’m right here. Say it to my face.”
John stepped between the two, putting Meg behind him even though she was quite capable of fighting her own battles. “Back off, Theo.”
“Don’t fucking—”
“Back the hell off,” John said, the command in his voice catching both parties in the room by surprise. “Meg is smart, talented and the best woman I know. She makes good choices.”
He poked his finger out, aiming it at his friend. “Don’t you dare ever say she doesn’t.”
“Are you saying you are a good choice, John?” Theo questioned, and it momentarily caught John off guard.
“I—” he started, and Meg’s hand on his back sent warmth through his flesh. “You don’t—”
“Does that mean you’re staying, then?” Theo’s voice was quieter as he asked the question. “No more traveling? No more women?”
“Hey—” John scrubbed his hands over his face. At eighteen, he’d managed to sneak into most of the lectures for the courses he would have needed if he could have afforded to get a degree. He’d done it simply by always having the right answer for whoever was asking.
Now he had so much that he wanted to convey, and he couldn’t spit out even a single word.
“Let’s just go, Theo.” Meg’s voice was resigned, coming out from behind his back. She snatched her purse up from the table and moved in beside Theo, the two a united front that once again made John feel like he was on the outside looking it, wanting something that was always just out of reach.
“Meg?” he said one last time, hoping she’d give him a thread of hope that they could somehow find a way.
“Good night, John,” she said and walked out the door. Theo stood there for a second, glaring at him, and his heart sank into the pit of his stomach.
He’d told her how he felt, and he supposed this was her answer.
Message received. Loud and clear.
CHAPTER TWENTY
THE NEXT DAY, Meg smiled at Gavin Aronson. She’d had the expression frozen on her face all day, but it felt so brittle that she knew it would shatter with one well-placed tap.
She was cold all over, a thin film of ice separating her from reality. And inside, she was empty. Lights were on but no one was home—and it was b
etter this way, because as soon as she let herself feel again, she was in for a world of hurt.
And now was not the time to be thinking about any of this, not when she’d decided that the only possible outcome for this meeting was success—hers.
She’d elected to stay here, with her business and her family. She was damn well going to make it worth it.
Quickly swiping beneath her eyes, she adjusted her apron as Gavin crossed the room, all sleek confidence that made her skin crawl.
That morning, she’d considered wearing something with full coverage, and insisting that Jada did as well, just so that Gavin’s attention remained where it was supposed to be—on the food. Then she’d decided that that was bullshit.
A woman wearing what she wanted wasn’t an invitation to anything, so she’d chosen a dress again this time, one she would have worn to any business meeting. It showed a hint of cleavage, just like the last one, but the mood she was in, she just dared him to look.
“Gavin,” she said, extending an arm as Jada removed trays of food from the fridge. Even though she reserved the right to wear what she wanted, there was safety in numbers, so both women were there, and Meg had told Jada to be wary. She wanted this deal, but if Gavin touched her inappropriately again, or made a move on Jada, Meg was going to stab him in the eye with a fork. “It’s so nice to see you again.”
It wasn’t, but it was a welcome distraction, at least.
“The pleasure is always mine,” he said, bringing her hand to his mouth for a lingering kiss. She pulled away and resisted the urge to wipe his saliva on her apron. She caught Jada’s glance and simply gave her a nod, and Jada went back to arranging an array of sweets onto the trays.
“I’ve been working on your menu. I think you’ll be impressed.” Her gaze narrowed when she saw that he wasn’t paying attention, instead looking around the large kitchen.
“First I have a selection of amuse-bouche options,” she started, presenting the large plate on which she’d artfully arranged several small bites that she’d slaved to create. “We have a seared foie gras with Drambuie and mango, a black caviar tart with cauliflower and avocado, and a lamb bite with gin, sumac and grapefruit.”
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