I drink in Sydney’s beauty as though I haven’t seen her in months instead of days. “Hey, you look gorgeous. Please come in.” She’s the first girl I’ve ever had in my home and it feels right having her here, as though all of the pieces in my life are finally falling into place.
Her bright blue eyes are wide as she surveys the entryway to my brownstone. “Thanks, this is beautiful, Drew.”
Unable to wait any longer, I pull her against me and lower my mouth to hers, tasting her sweet lips. The smell of oranges and flowers and Sydney surrounds me, making me forget myself for a moment and I deepen the kiss. Manners, Forrester. It’s not very chivalrous to attack her in the foyer while she’s still wearing her coat.
“Sorry, I couldn’t wait to do that. I’ve been thinking about kissing you all day.” I help her out of her coat, hang it on a hook, and hold out my hand to lead her up the stairs. “Come, I have wine chilling. We can drink while I finish dinner.” She follows me up to the first floor, which is comprised almost exclusively by the kitchen.
I head over to the food prep area and watch Sydney check out the room. She’s behaving similarly to the night in the private dining room; viewing each individual piece of furniture, every cabinet, each framed piece of art with an analytical eye. When she’s done, I pull out a barstool for her and she sits down willingly. I quickly fill two wine glasses and hand her one over the huge granite island. “I hope you like filet.”
Sydney starts to get up to join me by the stove. “I love it. It smells wonderful in here. What can I do to help?”
No way is she cooking for a date at my house, I stop her by holding up a hand before she can move. “I’ve got everything. I want you to sit there and we can talk while I finish up.” If she’s trapped, and I’m busy, she’ll have to do all of the talking. That’s my pathetic plan anyway.
Surprisingly, it turns out that my plan isn’t all that pathetic. She tells me about shopping with Leah at Bergdorf’s. Now I understand why she said it was painful, Leah is pretty horrific to shop with if Sydney’s description is even half as bad as it really was.
While I continue prepping our dinner, putting out plates and dishing up the salad, Sydney takes sips of her wine as she talks, loosening up even more. When she explains that she’s the interior designer for the Warren nightclub remodel, everything comes together for me. The mention in GQ by Adam, her appreciation for the room at the Sunset House, the way she looked around my kitchen, all of it makes sense.
That fucking bastard Adam Reynolds trying to hustle an invite to the party with Sydney really pisses me off. My best acting performance to date is keeping the disgust off of my face as Sydney describes the nightclub while I’m fantasizing turning Reynolds’ smug face into pulpy mess.
I take a seat next to Sydney at the island and tell her about shopping for the steaks at an awesome butcher shop at Chelsea Market that buys only local, grass fed meat. I’m careful not to mention the part where one of the patrons freaked out when she noticed me and caused a huge crowd to swarm around like locusts. It took me an hour to get the hell out of there. I’ll let Jane continue to arrange my shopping from now on.
Sydney says she doesn’t cook, which is fine by me because I’ve been doing it for a while. It’s hard to keep yourself entertained when you’re pretty much stuck in your house for fear of causing a riot every time you step outside. I keep sneaking glances at her as she eats her dinner, ridiculously pleased that she likes my cooking.
When we finish, I place the dirty dishes by the sink and hold out my hand. She takes it and I lead her up another flight of stairs to the main living room. Now that I know she’s an interior designer, I expect her to evaluate everything in the room, but of course she surprises me again.
Sydney heads straight for the back wall of my brownstone which is made almost entirely of glass. It cost a fortune to have it specially tinted so no one can see in, but it’s worth every penny. Even when it’s dark out and the interior lights are on like they are now, it’s impossible to see into the house.
“You have a view of the Empire State Building!” she squeals as she looks outside. Then just as quickly her voice gets softer. “I love looking out at the city. It relaxes me. I could sit in this room and look at this view all day.”
I’m staring at the complex girl in my living room. She’s gorgeous and shy, exuberant then disillusioned, fascinating but secretive, simple to please yet the most complicated person I’ve ever met. I think if I watch her carefully for long enough, I may eventually figure her out.
She says she loves the view out the window? I love the view in front of me. “Me too,” I respond to her statement.
Sydney turns with a huge smile on her face. When she sees that I’m staring at her and not at the city, she flushes crimson and drops her eyes to the ground. Again, her reactions astonish me. What girl doesn’t love a compliment? Most women fish around for them endlessly. Sydney? She gets embarrassed and changes the subject.
She walks over to the wall of books that I own, assessing each volume. She’s trying to figure me out the same way I attempted to do at her loft, getting answers without having to ask the questions. Unlike her, I’ll answer pretty much anything she asks me.
Sydney takes a step closer to the fireplace where I have several photographs displayed. Quietly, I move behind her and pull her back against my front, wrapping my arms around her small frame. I know she’ll never ask me straight up, but she’s probably dying to know, so I point at the first three photos and explain. “My sister, Allie, and my parents.”
She nods, and takes a step to the left to see the last picture. I move with her, unwilling to go without the warmth and soft feel of her body as I explain the final photo. “Meeting Red Sox catcher Trevor Caldwell at Fenway Park. That was a great day.” I leave out the part where I threw out the opening pitch at the game.
Her curiosity squelched for now, Sydney turns in my arms to face me and I can see a mischievous glint in her eyes. She takes my hand and guides me over to the huge sectional sofa that is in front of the fireplace and windows. Sydney places her glass of wine on the end table and lightly pushes on my chest, implying that I should sit down. I fight my natural instinct to take over and instead, I do what she wants, interested in seeing where she’s going with this. When she climbs on top of my lap and threads her hands in my hair, I not only know what she has in mind, I’m instantly hard as a rock.
“Sydney,” I groan as she gives my scalp a sharp tug and a fire begins to burn inside me. I wrap my hands around her waist and drag her hips back and forth across my lap, desperate for some kind of friction to relieve the pressure of my hard dick straining against my jeans.
Sydney takes in a sharp breath and frantically attempts to remove my shirt, the uninhibited girl that I saw after our date at the Sunset House is back and ready to be let out. I release her waist and reach back to grab the back of my collar, yanking it off in one fluid motion. Once the fabric barrier is gone, Sydney bows her head and glides her soft tongue across my chest and up my neck, murmuring my name, sending sparks shooting down my spine and into my groin.
The need to touch her skin overwhelms my thoughts as my cock throbs under her wanton movements. I push her away and rid her of her T-shirt and bra, not thinking rationally enough to do anything except get her naked as fast as possible.
“Christ. So fucking gorgeous, Syd. You drive me insane. I want to be inside you every minute of the day,” I tell her, dragging my hands over her soft curves. I dive in to taste her aroused peaks, drawing one into my mouth and raking my teeth over it. Sydney writhes in my lap, making me even closer to the edge of losing control. Using intense concentration to hold myself steady, I move my mouth to the other tight bud and greedily circle it with my tongue.
“I want to pleasure you in every way, Sydney,” I groan against her flushed skin. With my hand and mouth, I torture both of her sensitive nipples as she grinds against the denim of my jeans. Neither of us stops until Sydney comes loudly and uninhibit
ed on top of me.
Fuck! She just wiped my mind clear of every other woman I’ve ever been with. So fucking responsive. After this, there will only ever be images of Sydney when I think of sex. To let her rest, I trail delicate kisses up to her collarbone and find her parted mouth, brushing my lips across hers as she catches her breath.
“That was incredible, and definitely a first for me,” she pants.
Good, because the thought of anyone else touching her like that makes the edges of my vision haze over with streaks of red.
Wanting more than this intense physical connection, I lock eyes with her and tell her exactly how I feel, “I’d like to have a lot of firsts with you, Sydney.”
My words cause her pupils to dilate and she lowers her lashes seductively, causing the fire in me to ignite hotter than a blowtorch. Heat floods every inch of my skin as my heart pumps faster with each brush of her fingers against me. I slide my hand behind her head and force her mouth to mine, claiming it aggressively as our teeth and tongues crash together. My only goal is getting both of us naked immediately. I grip her ass and lift her up, placing her back down on the sofa so I can stand and strip off my pants.
Before I can begin to undress, Sydney hooks her fingers into the belt loops of my jeans and roughly jerks my hips toward her. The wicked smile on her face causes every drop of blood in my body to drain into my cock, swelling even more painfully against the thick fabric.
“I want to taste you, Drew,” she moans. She opens her gorgeous mouth and uses her teeth to stroke down the rigid bulge in the front of my jeans.
“Jesus.” My head involuntarily arches back as electricity hums through my body, possessed by the inferno she’s stoking. I don’t notice that Sydney has unzipped my pants until her hot, wet mouth wraps around my dick.
My head snaps up to the incredible sight of her luscious lips wrapped around my cock, eagerly tasting every inch of me. “Fuck, Sydney.” This girl is going to unman me, I can’t watch this but I can’t turn away either, I’m mesmerized, watching my dick disappear between those lips.
Sydney trails her hands around my backside to grip my ass and thrusts my hips forward and backward, forcing me deeper and deeper down her throat with each shove. God, she wants me to fuck her mouth, holy shit! When she pulls all the way out and swirls her tongue around the swollen head, I shudder from the strain of holding back.
“Shit, stop.” Sydney complies, letting my disappointed cock fall out of her mouth and she pouts like I’ve snatched away her favorite toy.
The base need to fuck her is the only thing in my brain, controlling every thought, every movement. I tear off her remaining clothing and then discard my own, and her pout is replaced by a sultry grin. Hurriedly, I remove protection from my pocket and roll it on quickly. I pick a shocked Sydney up and sit in her place on the sofa, pulling her onto my lap facing me and roughly impaling her as I bring her down.
She groans in my ear and I can hardly speak with her wet heat wrapped around me. “Fuck, you’re so tight. I love the way you feel.”
Then she starts to move, kneeling on either side of my legs, she uses her thighs to raise her hips up and down over mine. With each downward stroke, I grip her waist and slam her down on my cock as far as she can go, dragging long, incoherent words from her parted lips.
Our pace quickly becomes frenzied, both of us already covered in a light sheen of sweat. When she shifts against me one last time, Sydney detonates around my shaft loudly, her orgasm seeming to last forever. I continue to thrust up into her a few more times and follow her in a mind blowing release as I yell out her name.
With the intense pleasure still vibrating through my body, I wrap my arms around her shoulders and pull her to my chest. She lays her head on my heart, breathless from exertion. I brush small kisses on the top of her head, secretly inhaling the intoxicating scent of hair. If I told her I loved her would she freak out and leave? Probably. I’ll save that for another time.
Gently lifting her to separate us, I hold her tight and stand, carrying her up the stairs to my bed. Seeing Sydney Allen, naked on my sheets, is a vision that will be forever emblazoned on my memory. She must know that I’m studying every inch of her body, because the corner of her mouth twists up in a knowing smile and she wickedly drags a hand over her breast and down her stomach. Grinning, I climb on the bed with her, and we make love slowly, pleasuring each other until exhaustion sets in.
CHAPTER 10
I wake up to Sydney burrowing her back into my chest, attempting to get even closer than she already is. Her heart is racing under my palm, which is tucked over her waist and up between her breasts. Is she scared? Dreaming? Does she want to get up and run out of here, thinking she made a mistake? For about the millionth time I wonder what the hell happened to her that made her such a nervous wreck.
Not knowing what else to do, I trail soft kisses across the back of her neck until I feel her physically relax, her body melting into mine. “Good morning,” I whisper in her ear.
Sydney wiggles her backside against my hard cock and playfully answers, “Good morning yourself.”
Even though she can’t see it a broad smile crosses my face, her responses always surprise me but I’m more than happy to play. “Is that how it is?” I ask.
My hand trails down from her chest and I slide it between her legs, finding her wet and willing. “I think you want me again, Miss Allen.” I tease her clit, circling it with the tip of my finger. She whimpers and pushes back against me again. I can’t think about anything but sinking into her when she’s this close to me, let alone naked and grinding her ass into my dick.
Sydney starts protesting as I lean away, reaching behind me to pull a condom from the nightstand. When she sees what I’m doing, she stops and petulantly waits for me to finish. I make quick work of getting it on and return my hand to continue exploring Sydney’s slick folds. Impatient, she reaches behind her and grips my length tightly, positioning the head at her opening.
“Fuck!” She cries as I bury in her with one swift move. Continuing to massage her hard nub, I thrust in and out of her from behind, relishing each long stroke. Sydney twists the sheets in her hands and pushes back against each one, anxious for me to go faster. I swing a leg over hers, clamping down to keep her still so I can pound into her even harder, each thrust going as deep as possible and drawing out long, unfiltered moans from her.
At this point, I’m running on instinct and adrenaline, chasing that unbelievable high with Sydney. My brain is so focused on reaching that intense peak that words just start to fall out of my mouth randomly as I speed up my movements. “God, Sydney, I can’t get enough of you,” I growl as I roughly suckle on her earlobe, not letting up one bit on the relentless pace.
She falls over the edge and I can feel the heat rushing through her every inch of her skin as she clamps down around my needy cock. Blinded by unfamiliar emotions combined with the incredible sensation of being inside her as she comes, I mumble, “I think I love you,” as I spill into her sweet depths and fall back onto the bed.
Once I’ve caught my breath, I toss away the used condom and gather a very limp Sydney in my arms and turn her to face me. Nuzzling her lips and neck I whisper in her ear, “Go away with me.”
Her body becomes instantly rigid. Shit, she’s not ready for this. If that’s the case, I really hope she didn’t hear my unedited declaration a minute ago.
“What?” Her eyes are wide with panic.
She doesn’t trust me enough yet. Somehow, I need her to see that I’m safe for her, that I’d never hurt her, so I explain the situation calmly. “I have time before my next project, you have time before the nightclub needs you, let’s go away. A friend of mine has a home in the Caribbean and offered it to us for this coming weekend.”
Of course, I can’t tell her who my friend is or what he does for a living. What a fucking hypocrite I am, begging her to trust me but omitting the truth at the same time. I feel like a selfish bastard all of a sudden, undeserving o
f her trust but wanting it more than anything.
I can see her running the options through her mind, her desire to go warring with her fear of… well, of whatever the fuck she’s afraid of. My eyes are imploring her to choose me as I wait, practically bursting to scream out that she’s going whether she likes it or not, which, most likely, is not the best way to get her to trust me.
She finally speaks, seemingly embarrassed to answer, “Okay. I’ll go.”
That beautiful but inexplicable blush creeps up her neck and stains her high cheekbones a rosy pink under that adorable smattering of freckles. She’s so charming that I can’t help but grin. Once again, her reactions astound me. Then, as if she’s aware that she never does what I expect, she pokes out her tiny tongue and drags it across my cheek, swirling it in the dimple that marks one side. She must notice my amused expression because she laughs, “I’ve just been dying to do that.”
Fuck, do it all day every day, whatever makes you happy.
“You can do that anytime, babe. Absolutely anytime.”
We get up and I make coffee, handing Sydney a cup as she sits on the sofa, looking out at the Empire State Building. Today, the giant gray structure melds with the steel gray sky, becoming all but invisible along the skyline. I take a sip of my coffee and sit next to Sydney.
“So, I have most of the arrangements done for St. Bart’s already.” Sydney turns and lifts an eyebrow at me accusingly. “Okay, I wasn’t overly confident, just hopeful that you would go with me.” She smirks and sips from her cup. “We’ll leave Thursday morning and come back Monday, does that work for you?”
“I’ll have to double check everything on my calendar, but it should be fine,” she says. She curls her feet underneath her and leans against my shoulder. I’m so happy that she initiated the contact that I smile, knowing that she can’t see me from her spot tucked up next to me.
Syd’s wearing one of my T-shirts and a pair of my sweats. She had to roll the waist up three times to keep them up and even now, I’m not certain that they won’t fall off. Syd’s sexier in my old clothes with no makeup on than most women are when they’re all dressed up to go out.
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