by Susan Ward
What I can see of the rest of the suite is enough to make my head spin. The walls are seafoam green, edged in intricately carved crown molding and white wainscot. It’s elegant and opulent, and if that weren’t enough to impress the hell out of an upscale traveler, the entire far wall is glass with a dramatic view of Settle that takes my breath away.
The door snaps shut behind me.
“I guess you settled on a place to live,” I mutter breathlessly, maybe to break the tension of being in here.
He drops his key card on the console table. “For now.”
“Then what?”
He shakes his head, and seeing him standing there my body clenches. He’s not even touched me yet.
“Where would you like to talk?” he asks softly as he moves toward me.
“Talk?”
“Your questions, remember?”
Amused, he slowly licks his lower lip and I want that tongue on me.
“Where would you suggest we talk?”
“If I were you, probably the sitting room.”
“And why’s that?” I whisper.
“No privacy. It’s the safest for you. My camping buddy is staying here with me, so you can be somewhat confident I’ll keep my hands off you”—his eyes flare wide—“as much as I can manage until you’ve finished everything you want to ask me. That leaves all the heavy lifting up to you.”
“Heavy lifting?”
“Yeah, keeping your hands off me while you grill me.”
Oh…arrogant, cocky Eric is in the room, and I couldn’t be more pleased. Fuck the questions. They’ll be there in the morning. Why isn’t he in me?
I move to the doorway of the room, panting and staring. “It’s acceptable, but what are my other options?”
He comes up behind me and slips his arms around my waist. I moan loudly, my head tilting as he brings his mouth close to my ear.
“The terrace,” he murmurs.
His mouth roams my neck and shoulder, his fingers trailing my breasts.
“You have a fifty-fifty shot I’ll keep my hands off you there,” he whispers, his voice low and husky.
“Too cold. We’ll end up wrapped around each other out of necessity.”
“That leaves only my bedroom, but there you have no chance of getting out even a single question. Pick that one and all there’s going to be tonight is a whole lot of me.”
Oh my! His palm moves down from my breasts to my mound and I surrender myself to the rhythm of his kisses and touch, absorbing and savoring his fingers moving round and round my clit, torturing me even through my dress.
“I don’t want to talk.” I moan.
“Neither do I, baby,” he murmurs heatedly.
“I mean for tonight, not forever.”
His laughter sounds like a growl. “I wouldn’t have expected otherwise.”
“Then for God’s sake, Eric, take me to your bedroom.”
ERIC’S FINGERS DIG into my hips and prevent me from meeting his thrust. I shiver in agony, whimpering as his cock strokes my inner walls when he slowly glides out of me.
“I’m not letting you come quickly this time,” he murmurs, then slams into me.
“Oh!’ I cry out, the fullness of him inside me causing heat to run my twitching flesh. He’s hitting my magic square over and over, though easing away before I tumble over the edge. The feeling is mind-blowing. I push up into him.
“No,” he grunts, stilling me. “We were too quick the first time we made love. I was too quick the first time. This time…” His voice trails off as his mouth closes over mine. The twirl of his tongue sends me spiraling closer to orgasm.
I grind into him. “Eric, I want to feel you come.”
He thrusts into me and this time he doesn’t halt. “Willow,” he hisses as he spills into me, and my flesh contracts around him in an orgasm that goes on and on until both of us are soothed, panting and spent.
It takes minutes for our breathing to calm. Eric lifts his face from the curve of my shoulder and kisses me. “You don’t play fair, Willow Birch.”
“I’m pretty sure you’re not fair at anything, Eric Manzone.”
Laughing, he rolls off me and pulls my passion-damp body up against his sweat-coated side. My cheek presses into his chest and his fingers move to my hair. “I’m very fair with you. I’ve answered every question you’ve asked me tonight.”
“That’s because you’ve given me practically no time to talk since we got into your bed.”
“I warned you.”
I fight not to laugh because he really is incorrigible. I trace the line of his stomach. So many questions in my head. We’ve been talking and fucking for hours, and there still doesn’t feel like there’s an end in sight for either a physical or emotional sating.
I’m not sure what happens after this night, what I want, or even what he’s offering.
My mood dims.
He buries his lips in my hair. “What are you thinking, Willow? I sense another round of questions coming my way.”
A hundred thoughts jump in my head. I’m too tired for anything overly emotional this round. We’ve talked about his marriage to Tara, the conflict he had with Ethan because of her, Hana, and why he lied to me about being married. We talked about Dean and how I ended up with him. He talked about his years of addiction, and I spoke honestly for the first time about how badly it’d hurt when my dad disowned me.
Many of the things I said hurt him. Many of the things he said hurt me. But at no time did either of us stop holding each other as we shared the painful parts—together and apart—of our lives, and without his arms around me I’m sure I couldn’t have made it through half of it.
I peek up at him. “Why did you shave your beard before the party?”
He blinks at me, surprised. “That’s the question that got the wheels spinning in your head again? I shaved it because of you. Something you said. It got me thinking and the next thing I know I’m shaving it off.”
It’s my turn to be surprised. “Me? I don’t recall making a comment on your beard, either positive or negative.”
“You didn’t.”
“Well then, for the record, even though it’s too late, I liked it.”
“Damn. Another Eric mistake. I should have cleared it with you first.”
We laugh, then he places his hand on my chin and lifts my face to meet his gaze directly. “You asked me why I didn’t let you really see me seven years ago. You wanted to know why I didn’t tell you who I am and why I didn’t face you as me. It took me a while to think that one through. I didn’t like the answer. So I shaved the beard to face you as me, totally naked, completely vulnerable, and regrettably recognizable.”
I frown. “Regrettably recognizable? I don’t like the sound of that.”
He lets out a long ragged breath. “Smart girl. Hopefully you won’t hate the reality of being with someone famous more than you love me.”
“I haven’t said I love you yet,” I taunt, lifting my nose.
His eyes glimmer. “But you do. We’ll get there.”
“Maybe not. I might have been attracted only to the beard.” I kiss his chin and pretend to consider that.
He laughs, then growls at me. “I’m being serious. Stop it. I’m trying to answer your question. I shaved off the beard because how can I ask you to be with me if I won’t let you see everything about me, the good and the bad that comes with who I am? That’s what I did wrong seven years ago. Not telling you who I am, that I fucked up with Tara, and all the shit I’d caused in my life. But I’m not doing it this shot with you. I want you to know upfront what you’ll be getting into having a relationship with me. And trying to prevent you from knowing any of it until we’re together not only isn’t honest, it’s unfair. I realized the beard was a prop, a type of lying, and I don’t want to ever lie to you again. That made it something that had to go.”
I don’t understand everything he tries to explain to me,
but all of me is beyond intrigued to understand everything about him.
I sink down against him. “You make the being famous thing sound very ominous. It’s nothing I’ve even considered as a problem. Why do you think it is?”
He sighs. “It’s not something I can explain. One of those things you have to experience to get. Like sex.”
“Really?”
“Uh-huh.”
He sounds tired.
I’m exhausted.
I gaze out the window into the lightening sky, reflecting on this long night. I’ve learned so much about Eric, and yet I sense there’s so much more to discover. Yes, he says he loves me. Yes, I love him, even if I haven’t said it yet. Yes, lying beside him feels the rightest place I’ve ever been. But there’s the unwanted strain of what’s still unresolved between us and as wonderful as this has been, I’m not ready to fully open my heart to him yet.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Willow
HMM…I’M COMFORTABLE AND warm. Languid and serene, the way you feel only after a long, deep sleep. I don’t want to wake. How I feel is too delicious, part fantasy and hope-filled reality. A wonderful state to hover in until I’m fully awake.
I’m in Eric’s suite. Memories of the previous night come back to tease my brain and body. A few make me laugh. Dean at the table, staring at Eric. Jade’s devilish glint. I should really be angry with my sister for her sneakiness and I will be when I call her, but for now I’m in bliss. Remembering where it brought me. Here. Eric making love to me, the quiet talking, being together, and his voice being the last thing I heard before sleep.
My lids lift and the bright sunlight in the room forces me to squint. Gee, it must be later in the day than it feels. How long have I been asleep?
I roll over and my heart leaps into my mouth. The bed beside me is empty. When did Eric leave? I check the other side. There’s a note on the pillow.
Lying back, I unfold it and read.
Don’t go . I won’t be long . I have something I want to show you when I get back . Please be dressed , otherwise , if I see you naked I might forget .
Laughing, I run the crisp sheet of El Encanto stationery against my lower lip. Dressed, huh? It’s daytime and all I have is the Versace cocktail dress. That’s not going to work out well with whatever Eric has planned today.
I don’t want to get up. I don’t want to leave this bed, and Eric forgetting whatever mysterious surprise he has in store for me next is fine by me.
I glance at the bedside table. There’s a shiny silver tray with a coffee carafe and a continental breakfast. Thoughtful, and I wonder what brought about this change in him. He was hardly that when we were together the first time. Probably his years being married. Marriage does at times bring about positive changes in people. No, don’t want to think of that or Tara.
I sit up and pour a cup of java. It tastes divine. I need something in my veins to get me moving. I could lie in this bed forever. It’s that plush and comfortable.
I take a deep breath and close my eyes. I feel like a teenage girl, frivolous and without responsibility. Only I’m not. I’m a grown woman and I can’t let my emotions run away with me. Not with Eric. Not a second time. I need to go slowly, see what we are, and not let my heart lead me into acting rashly.
Been there.
Done that.
Done that with him.
The brightness of the sunlight causes me to worry. It’s got to be late—I check the clock—I should have been at work hours ago. I scramble out of bed and search the room for my purse. It’s lying on the floor near the shoes I kicked off before Eric whisked me into bed.
I power on my phone and wait. The screen fills up with messages.
Ivy: Where are you? Your house was empty this morning when I stopped by. What don’t I know?
Ivy: I’m opening Mel’s for you. You can thank me later. Have fun today, girl.
Jade: ☹ don’t be mad at me, it was for your own good, sis. We were trying to help you move on from him.
I’m sitting on the floor, naked. I wonder what Jade will think of that? I didn’t move on. I moved with him. I’m pretty sure the earth moved as well. I flush at the wayward thoughts of my inner self. I went to bed with him last night, that’s all it was, even if naughty Willow is doing her happy dance that she got to come out and play for a change.
I scroll through more messages. Oh God, no, not Dean. A blistering tirade over how I embarrassed him. It’s not worth pointing out it wasn’t me, it was Jade who plotted to knock him down a peg.
Oh my—I’m laughing. It’s not right to be as happy as I feel today. But it’s been so long since I’ve felt this way.
AFTER I FINISH MY breakfast, I call my sister since Eric hasn’t returned yet.
“Don’t good morning me,” I say right over the top of her as she answers. “How long have you been plotting with Ivy behind my back to set me up with Eric? And why did you do it? And don’t give me that malarkey that it was for my own good.”
A hiss of an exhale comes through the receiver. “Are you done scolding me?”
“I don’t consider that scolding. But yes. I’m done and listening.”
Another huff. “We ran into each other at the coalition for the arts. I almost fainted when I found out he was volunteering there. Did you know that? He’s been mentoring in the kids’ music development program for weeks. I brought Jasmine there one afternoon for a piano lesson and there he was. At first, I wanted nothing to do with him. But after I heard him out, I realized I own a piece of what happened between the two of you seven years ago.”
Now I’m confused as well as annoyed. Somehow she’s made it all about her. So typical. And that other part—Eric volunteering with the kids—it doesn’t compute, nor does it rest well that everyone important in my life seems to know more about him than I do.
“What are you talking about, Jade?”
“Don’t you remember that morning in the kitchen after Eric asked you to move to LA with him?”
“Yes, but I don’t know how that has anything to do with you lying for weeks and trying to fix me up on blind dates with him.”
“It doesn’t particularly.”
“Then why’d you bring it up?”
“Because it has everything to do with why I feel bad.”
“Jade, you’re talking in circles.”
“No, I’m not. You’re just not letting me explain.”
Silence on my end; silence on hers.
“You wanted to go with him, remember?” she continues softly. “And I guilted you into not doing it. And before you say I didn’t, I did. I knew what I was doing. I was afraid if you took off with him you’d never come back. And I didn’t think I could manage everything with Dad if you weren’t here. I was getting married, Willow. I didn’t want anything to jeopardize that. Like Dad having another episode in the hospital and me having to run home to take care of things. There. I’ve said it. I warned you off him, when I could see how happy he made you, because I didn’t want to risk losing Gary.”
My mind spins. “You didn’t guilt me into anything.”
“We don’t know that. I’m very good at getting you to do what I want rather than what you want. You’re such a people pleaser, Willow. It makes you easy to take advantage of.”
“You didn’t take advantage of me. And you’re not as powerful as you think you are, Jade. I was thinking about not leaving Dad, not leaving for college, long before I met Eric. And that part you said about me going with him turning out awful, I was afraid of that all on my own. I’d have stayed in Seattle whether you tried to keep me here or not.”
“You would have?”
“Yes, Jade. I would have stayed either way.” It isn’t until the words are out of my mouth that I realize it’s the truth. “I never wanted to leave home, to get away from Capitol Hill like you did. I love it here.”
“You don’t have to try to make me feel better. You were cryin
g that morning about letting him go. I could see it in your eyes how desperately you wanted away from working in the bar and Dad’s controlling ways. I thought I’d ruined your chance to escape and be happy.”
Damn, now tears are dripping down my nose. I didn’t want this to become something emotionally heavy. I didn’t want to take a journey into the past, dig up all the bodies, and have a tear-fest over how things were back then. I wanted to read her the riot act, make up, laugh over Dean, and go happily on my way with my day.
“Jade, I wasn’t crying because I gave up my chance to leave Seattle. I was crying because I loved him, and I wanted him to love me enough to stay.”
AFTER TALKING WITH JADE, I turn off my phone and head for the bathroom. My jaw drops when I see the tub. I’ve never seen one as large or deep. I’m so having a bubble bath in that. If I’m going to be spontaneous and fun Willow today, I’m giving myself the full treatment.
I switch on the water, grab the fancy bottle of bubbling foam, and pour it in. I’ve never been anywhere like this before. No wonder Eric always seemed like a fish out of water in Capitol Hill when we first hooked up. This is normal to him. That’s why he was always so mysterious to me. His reality is chock-full of every kind of amazing, things I can’t even imagine.
How ordinary I must have seemed to him back then. I chase away the thought. I don’t like it. I haven’t changed that much since then.
My gaze roams the gigantic double shower, the pristine vanity, and the lighted mirror above it. Even the tile beneath my feet has heaters in it. They must have come on when I flipped one of those switches trying to figure out which one would bring light.
I spot only one towel out. It’s hanging beside the shower. It must be Eric’s. Strange, all this and no towels. I open a door. Toilet. Nice touch, privacy. I open another and find shelf after shelf of soft cotton from washcloths to bath-sheet size.
I sit on the edge of the tile, fingers beneath the water as the room gets hot and steamy. I step in, sink down, and let the water cascade over me. The water is soothing. I could stay in this tub forever. I reach for the body wash on the ledge, smell it, and rub it all over myself. It has the same smell I remember from his skin.