“Then why the tears?” His hands framed her heart-shaped face.
“I’m on emotional overload right now. Postcoital bliss and all that.”
He wiped another tear with his thumb. “You don’t have to be brave. I’m sorry. You just have to tell me when it feels—”
She silenced his mouth with her finger. “I can’t tell you how I feel. You won’t let me.” Her voice was a rough whisper against the silence. He watched two more teardrops erupt from her eyes as she closed them. His breath caught as he watched them roll down her pink cheeks and onto his hands.
Her mouth found his without looking. She kissed him wet and hungry, deep and demanding as she rolled on top of him. She laced her fingers through his and brought their hands to the side.
Butterflies in Flight, he realized too late. “Sophie, we shouldn’t.”
He thought it would be too soon. For him, for her. But she seemed to communicate with his body better than he did. He hadn’t even realized he was ready again until he felt her body sliding against his, the sweat from their last mingling helping her to glide across him. He remembered how this felt the first time, with all their clothes on and a room full of people watching.
He hadn’t imagined it right. The position offered a gracefulness he hadn’t fathomed. It wasn’t mechanical at all.
The feel of her breasts pressing against his chest as she rocked added to the sensation. He took in the swell of them as she moved, aligning their bodies. Watching her, his own desire grew. He needed to be back inside her, to be back in the one place where they made perfect sense.
“David,” she whispered as the head of him finally kissed her, finding her wet and ready. The intensity in her gaze challenged him as she bit her lip and slid him inside of her. He wondered if she could see as deep into his soul as he saw into hers at this moment. This was how it was meant to be. A man and a woman and a feeling bigger than either of them.
He might not have heard her “I love you,” but he felt it.
…
She hadn’t moved, was still curled against him in his bed. Though, to be fair, with the hold he had on her she couldn’t have moved if she’d wanted to. He had her pinned to the mattress with his arm and thigh. He pulled back slightly. He must be crushing her.
As the fog cleared from his sleep-addled mind, he began to realize everything that had transpired. It hadn’t been a dream, or she wouldn’t be here. And it hadn’t been just sex. No, that would have been too simple. He’d made love with this woman over and over. He closed his eyes against what that meant.
It hadn’t ever been like this. When he came, he usually felt like he was letting go, falling apart for a brief second. This felt like holding on and coming together forever. Before, sex left him sated yet energized. This, whatever it was, had him hungering for more.
He had to think, and to think this early in the morning, he needed coffee. Slowly, he released her and turned to the opposite side of the bed.
“Don’t move.” Her voice was thick and gravelly from sleep. She reached out and pulled him closer. “I’ll freeze to death if you leave.”
He chuckled and held her close. She was hardly cold. He gave her a squeeze and prepared to make his exit again. She grabbed his arm and looked up at him.
“You’re trying to kill me. It’s freezing in this place.”
“I need caffeine or I can’t function.” He rolled out of bed and strolled into the kitchen. For the first time, he realized how cold the tile felt in the morning, how drafty the condo could seem. Maybe she really was cold. Once the coffee machine started to brew, he crept back to the bedroom, wishing he had spare blankets somewhere so she wouldn’t feel the chill in the air.
She’d buried herself beneath the covers so only see her hair peeked out. Not wanting to wake her if she’d been able to fall back asleep, he turned to go.
“What are you doing?” she asked, tossing the sheets back.
He groaned at the sight of her wearing nothing but his white T-shirt, so long it covered to mid-thigh, and so big her shoulder peeked out the neck. She’d put it on sometime early this morning—the skin-to-skin contact between them had kept either of them from sleeping.
One knee braced on the bed, he bent down. With her curls tumbling about and her eyes still heavy-lidded from sleep, he’d never in his life seen anyone so beautiful. He dipped his head, kissing the expanse of skin at her neck that should have been covered by the shirt. He moaned, laying her back down on the bed. And he’d thought he had wanted her badly last night.
“I thought you needed caffeine.” She giggled, pulling the blankets over the top of them.
“I need you,” he whispered against her skin as he lifted the hem of the shirt.
“Enough to turn up the heat in here?”
He doubted the pearled nipples beneath his hands were the result of the temperature. “I’ll keep you warm.”
…
David should have started sleeping with Sophie a month ago. He’d accomplished more in the half day he’d been at work than in the entire week. And it wasn’t because there were fewer people to interrupt him on a Saturday. His Sophie-obsessed mind finally could focus.
He was relieved his acquisitions director had come in. He’d been avoiding going over the building proposals, and having him here to answer questions streamlined the process. After deciding together which building to pursue in Seattle, David thought of another project.
“I want to get in on the Pearl District. Not having a gym there is noticeable. We looked at going in when the city restructured the area, but the rents were too high to hit our usual margin. It would be costly to buy in, but I think with the success of the other acquisitions behind us, we’ll get the board to sign off on it.” A shot of glee rushed through his veins. He didn’t really need their approval. He still wasn’t used to the power of majority ownership.
“We’ll get to work on it. Did you have a building in mind already?”
The building that housed Working It Out would be a good investment. He’d always thought it was a great location. But the real estate division of SGI was based on having Strong Gyms as the anchor of the building, not a rival women’s club. He shook his head, deciding to let the team do what they did best and bring him the best options.
“We’ll research it, and I’ll have a report back to you by the middle of the week.”
He shook the man’s hand as he walked him out the door. Turning around, he looked at his office as if for the first time. He’d done nothing to personalize the space. He needed to get some more pictures, or some art, or something. Something to make it look like he did more than just work.
The walls of his father’s office next door were cluttered with photos. David didn’t want his to look like a gallery, but something would be nice. He made his way into his father’s office and flipped on the light, not at all surprised Lance hadn’t touched a thing yet. The deep green walls absorbed the light, making the photographs on the walls glow as if backlit.
Tessa had redecorated the office completely when she’d taken over as Lance’s assistant. She’d made the room warm and inviting, artfully arranging the pictures in matching dark, wooden frames. What would Lance do with them all now? Most of the photos were copies of those hanging on the walls at home.
Tessa had arranged the photos by subject. One arrangement was largely her and Lance together. Another block showcased vacation photos. Kelly dominated the wall by the bathroom. David stepped behind his father’s desk, where pictures of him filled the entire wall.
There was the gratuitous bathtub shot, first day of school, Little League, a portrait of him and Lance in tuxedos. He looked about ten. Must have been when Lance married Gretchen. He and Craig at graduation, a snapshot of them from Greece, he and Lance with Kelly the day she was born. His heart stopped on the aged eight-by-ten in the center.
There weren’t many pictures of his mother, so he knew this one by heart. His father stood behind her, wrapping his hands over her swollen belly, both of them
smiling like fools. Her blond hair long and loose like women wore it back then. He eased into the desk chair and stared at her smile. Did she know she’d be dead within a week? That it could all be over that quickly?
“You should take them.” A voice jolted him back to the present. Tessa stood in the doorway with a rolling cart and lidded storage boxes. Her black hair hung in a sheet down her back. “I’ll have someone from facilities move them to your office.”
He met her almond-eyed gaze and wondered why she had chosen to clean out the office on a Saturday. No matter what Sophie had found, or what his father had confessed to, he still didn’t trust Tessa with anything.
“Dad with you?” he asked, rising.
Tessa shook her head, pushing the cart toward the vacation collection. Her head was still moving as she turned back to him. “I’m here to collect some pictures to decorate his retirement party.”
“I’ll help,” he said. He’d already removed all of the sensitive files and the computer from the office, but he didn’t trust her alone in the building.
“Suit yourself.” She shrugged, lifting the pictures off the wall and setting them carefully in the box. “I haven’t received your card for the party. You are coming.” It wasn’t a question. As if she had any right to make demands of him.
“I’ll need to make an appearance.” He took down a picture of him and Lance arm in arm wearing scuba gear. He must have been about twelve.
“Will you be coming alone again?” She didn’t change her tone or stop her hands, just intruded where she wasn’t wanted, as if she had the right. As if she were more than a transient figure in his father’s life, barely older than David.
It was the alone that made him pause. He always attended events alone. Bringing a date implied a level of formality, regularity he wasn’t usually comfortable with. But he had to admit, the party would be easier to get through with Sophie there to talk to.
“I’m not sure. Why?”
“You father is hoping you’re seeing someone.”
He watched her turn to face him, felt her reading his reaction. Was he? Were they? They hadn’t exactly gotten around to discussing it. And he hoped they’d never have to.
“Are you taking these, too?” David asked, crossing to the collection of newer photos featuring Tessa and Lance together.
“Yes,” Tessa said, putting a lid on the first box and opening another.
She pushed the cart to him and then made her way to the desk. He held his breath as she opened a drawer and pulled out another framed photo.
“This one, too,” she said, slamming the drawer with her hip.
As she walked past, David caught a glimpse of it. Lance and Tessa, with him and Kelly, at their wedding. The one Kelly had dragged him to, guilting him into coming. He was the only one not smiling.
David had hated that day. He’d begged his father not to go through with it. Marrying a woman so she would drop a sexual harassment suit was jumping from the frying pan into the fire. But Lance had claimed legal action was the only way for Tessa to get through to him. Maybe the two of them were both so twisted they deserved each other.
“Why was it in the drawer?” David asked as she slid it into the box with the rest.
“He was upset,” she said, as if that explained anything.
Chapter Twelve
David was surprised to see Sophie’s red SUV in the parking lot of her apartment building. She had classes scheduled until six. He’d been expecting to see service vans, not her truck. He fished his overnight bag from the passenger side of his car and made his way to the stairs. He nodded to himself, noting the original floodlights had been replaced and new motion-sensitive lights had been added along the stairway. Better.
At the top of the stairs, he inspected her door. The door and the frame were now reinforced steel. The door had been painted to match the others on the converted Victorian, and an alarm warning was affixed to the bottom corner. Much better.
He knocked, listening for any sound from inside. He couldn’t even hear her coming toward the door. “Sophie?” he called, knocking again. His heart started to race. All the workmen were employed by SGI, so they all had passed a background check. But the alarm company… Who had they sent? And why hadn’t they waited like he’d instructed them to? His fist hit the door again, harder. “Sophie!”
As the door swung open and he saw her, he stepped inside and lifted her off her bare feet, crushing her against him. “Don’t do that,” he whispered into her hair. “Why didn’t you answer the door? What are you doing home?”
She swung her legs, reminding him he still had her up in the air. Once her feet were on the ground, she took a step back and looked up at him.
“I live here. Or at least, I thought I did before I came home and found a team of worker bees all up in my business. There were twelve people here, David. Twelve.”
Sounded about right. The cleaning team, locksmith, alarm company, and maintenance crew. All with orders to be done by the time he arrived at six. It was five thirty. He dropped his bag by the potted palm and closed the door, locking the deadbolt in place. “Is that peephole too high for you?”
“David,” she snapped, placing her hands on her hips. “I am not something you can put on project status. I can take care of myself.”
“You shouldn’t always have to.” Where is my thank-you?
He watched her eyes dance as if she couldn’t make up her mind about something.
“The peephole is fine. I had trouble deciding whether I should let you in.”
He recognized her then—not Sophie, but that animal from the morning when she’d taken his keys. He wanted Sophie back. “Of course you should let me in. What smells so good? There’s a lemon and berry thing going on in here.”
“I can run my own life. I don’t want you to bulldoze over the top of it. You can’t make these kinds of decisions without me. I won’t let you tell me what to do.”
“That’s not what I did.” He couldn’t look at her eyes when she was like this, so he retreated into the kitchen. It was a muffin explosion in there. His mouth watered in anticipation.
“Hey!” she shouted, following him. “We’re not done.” She slapped his hand as he reached for a muffin.
“You hit me!” He looked at his hand in disbelief.
“Sit,” she demanded, scooting one of the kitchen chairs against the wall.
“You can’t tell me what to do.” Why was it that whenever this side of her came out, he sounded like a petulant child?
“You don’t like it, either? Imagine how I felt, coming back to my own home, already nervous because of the break-in, to find my apartment swarming with people who refused to tell me anything until I showed them ID and threatened to call the cops.”
He sat. “I didn’t think you would be home until after they were gone.”
“Keep talking, because that’s only making it worse.” Anger flashed in her blue eyes. He really shouldn’t find that attractive, the way she looked so determined and sexy. “Were you going to take my spare house key like you did with the truck? Just never mention it and see if I notice?”
That was exactly what he’d intended to do. “I called it all in last night. I needed to make you safe here. Do you want to move?”
Her head reared back, making her curls ripple down her shoulders. “What? No.”
“This is what I needed to do so you could stay.”
She huffed her breath in and out. “David, I’m renting. My landlord is going to freak at all the changes. The door, the wiring for the alarm, the added lights to the outside of the building. It’s way over the top. I needed a new lock, so like a normal person, I made an appointment with a locksmith and came home early so I didn’t miss him. Don’t turn me into a problem for you to solve. I can take care of myself.”
“I didn’t want you to have to.”
Her fingers dug into her hips, her nails turning white. “I’m supposed to go through and find what was taken. The cleaning crew straighten
ed everything better than it was before. I don’t even know where to look.”
“Jewelry. The police found nothing but jewelry on him. He got pieces from the other three places he hit, but he didn’t find yours.”
She actually stomped her foot. Very cute. “The police told you that? They haven’t even returned my call.”
He shrugged. “My security director called in a favor. You must have a better hiding spot than most people.”
“I don’t have any jewelry.” Sophie sighed and turned, staring at the front door. Her shoulders rose and fell as she seemed to contemplate something. She turned and walked to him, then nestled her way into his lap. “I’m not mad anymore.”
As if a sudden flare of temper could mellow so quickly. “Just like that?”
“Life’s short. I’ll have plenty of time to be mad when I’m dead.”
“I think the saying is I’ll sleep when I’m dead.”
A slow smile spread across her face, and dimples pressed into her cheeks. Her anger had burned out as quickly as it had been ignited.
“Nah, I’ll be exacting my revenge.”
“On me? I was trying to be nice. Most women would appreciate it and say thank you.”
“I’m not most women,” they said in unison.
He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her closer. Her kiss tasted of lemons and raspberries and was interrupted by the buzzing of the oven timer.
“What are you doing in here?” He released her and watched as she stood and exchanged pans in the oven.
“You mean besides wishing my kitchen were as big as my entire apartment?” She smiled and slipped off the oven mitts. “When I get frustrated, I cook. And since Craig and I are working out next season’s Deliver-Ease menus, I’m testing out some recipes.”
“I pay him for that,” David said, his suspicions confirmed on just how Craig had reworked the program so quickly. He popped a mini-muffin in his mouth. The raspberries burst against his tongue, so he grabbed three more.
“Craig can’t cook. I enjoy it.” She slid a mountain of muffins into a bowl and set it next to the others. “Good?” she asked, wiping a stray crumb from his mouth.
Compromising Positions (Invested in Love) Page 16