Her head bobbed up and down against his chest and her breaths came in little hiccups like a child who’d cried too hard.
His heart hurt. Worse than it had when he played the soccer game against Dartmouth in college, worse than it had when he found out Melville’s affair had been exposed. No, this was a pain that went deeper than his heart, it went to his very soul, and he thought that this time the pain really would kill him.
She finally tipped her head up, and even though her face was wet and pink, and she was still hiccupping, she was also smiling, grinning really.
“I know it’s going to be fine. I did it, I made it through. And I’m still here. The world didn’t collapse, you didn’t get up and walk away, and it feels so good. You feel so good.”
“You’re okay?” He looked at her in disbelief.
“Better than okay,” she said, her voice husky from the tears. “I was panicking, but I didn’t stop, I didn’t let it conquer me. You didn’t let it conquer me.”
He gazed at her, and the relief surged inside him. “You’re…happy?”
She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him over and over. “Yes. These are tears of joy, tears of gratitude. Thank you, thank you.”
He finally relaxed, his whole body warming under her enthusiasm. Chuckling, he took her cheeks between his palms. “Slow down, gorgeous. Let me absorb this and catch up here.” He ran his thumbs across her lips as they curled into a smile. “You feel better? You’re fine?”
“So much better than fine,” she whispered, her gaze tender.
He brought his lips to hers, and kissed her, knowing that he’d just handed something to this woman that he’d never get back. But he’d given it willingly, and he trusted her to keep it safe. He believed in what she and he could do together, in what they could be together. And he was going to enjoy the hell out of showing it all to her.
London’s heart beat a tattoo as Derek’s kisses grew exponentially hotter and harder. But this time it was a tattoo of excitement, arousal, and anticipation. She was high off the triumph of conquering the panic. She’d gotten all the usual signs—the fluttering, squeezing heart, the inability to catch her breath, the dizziness and head rush—but then she’d thought of Derek, the way he was gentle when she was scared, protective even if she fought against it, the way he’d been so patient with her when she couldn’t do the most normal of things—have sex with a man she cared about.
And when she thought of him, and she felt the things he was doing to her body at that very moment, the feelings took over the panic, and she was finally able to stop thinking, stop running. The way he made her feel—his touch, his kiss, the heat in his eyes—her fears crumbled, and the pleasure took over, washing through her like a tsunami that left a new landscape, one where Derek stood tall in the center, and her heartbeat was the only sound that mattered.
Now she felt it all building again, the arousal, the aching need, but not the fear, and she knew that she was ready. And she also knew that it was time to show Derek exactly how he affected her.
“You’re still far too dressed,” she whispered, licking up his neck and coasting her palms over his muscled chest.
“I can fix that,” he groaned, gripping her ass and pulling her closer to him.
She pulled away and crawled to her knees, her hands going to his belt buckle. He rose onto his own knees to give her more leverage as she undid the clasp, sliding the leather from his pants and dangling it above her head. “I know something very interesting to do with this.” She grinned at him.
He licked his lips, an evil gleam in his eyes. “I’m all yours. And I don’t even need a safe word,” he growled.
“Take those pants off first.”
He complied, taking a condom out of his wallet at the same time and laying it on the hearth before lowering himself to the rug in front of her.
“Now what, boss?”
Her heart soared realizing he was going to play along with her. This was different than the kind of control she had when she serviced clients. That control was all about making them feel like they were in control, like they were amazing sex machines that she couldn’t resist. This was the polar opposite, her taking the symbolic control when she knew damn well that Derek wielded the real control. He was ceding it to her because he cared enough to want her to be happy, but he already ruled both her body and her heart. It was thrilling and sweet all at once. A lethal combination.
She looked at him thoughtfully then said, “I think I want you on your back. Right about there.” She pointed at the rug, near one of the end tables that flanked the fireplace. He chuckled and lay down on his back, folding his hands over his terribly tempting abs.
She grasped his wrists and wound the belt around them before raising his arms over his head and buckling the belt around the leg of the end table.
“Comfortable?” she asked, running her eyes down to his hard cock that rested against his belly, the tip shiny and swollen.
“Not in the slightest,” he answered, his voice gruff and needy. “Why don’t you help me with that?”
She muttered, “Gladly” and straddled him as she put her tongue to good use on all that beautiful muscle he must exercise like a fiend to build. She laved his nipples, eliciting a set of moans from him that were gratifying. Then she stroked down his abs, making sure to put her tongue into every bump and groove of the six-pack that led to paradise. She let her hands roam, feeling his taut quads, his thick pecs and those glorious biceps that she could curl her fingers around over and over again.
When her lips reached the trail of hair that led to his cock she skated them over the skin and rubbed her breasts against his thighs, her hands resting over his pecs.
“Holy hell,” he gasped and the table he was tethered to jerked, sending a vase crashing to the floor.
“Behave,” she admonished.
“I’ll buy a new one,” he gritted out as her tongue finally reached his cock and she licked up the side like it was a lollipop.
She grasped the hard, thick shaft in one hand and pressed her lips to the tip, swirling her tongue around the head, tasting salt and something dark and rich that was all Derek.
“Fuck, I want to touch you,” he complained as his hips canted up toward her mouth.
“Not yet,” she answered, infusing her voice with as much school teacher as she could while she ached so much for his touch.
Then she took him deep in her mouth and he nearly shot off the floor. She couldn’t help but smile as he groaned in suffering. If there was one thing London knew how to do it was give a blowjob, and she proceeded to prove her skills to him as she set up a rhythm with both her mouth and her hand, stroking up and down in wet, hot synchrony until he was so tense beneath her she knew he was about to snap.
She grasped his balls in her free hand and suddenly there was a crash as the end table that held her captor captive went tumbling over. Within seconds his hands were digging into her hair and he was pulling her up his body. His wrists were still strapped together but it didn’t seem to hinder him in any way as he tugged her across his chest and crushed his lips to hers, his breath coming fast and hard. She moaned when his tongue invaded her mouth and he devoured her.
In a flash he had them flipped and she was on her back under him, one of his knees wedged between her legs. He thrust gently against her thigh, chuckling as he took one of her nipples into her mouth.
“Sorry,” he muttered between sucks and licks, “I’m better at being in charge.”
“Oh yes.” She pushed shamelessly into his mouth. “That works too.”
He planted open-mouthed kisses along her smooth abdomen, then sat up on his haunches, wiggling one hand out of the belt, then pulling the whole strap loose and tossing it aside. Watching her with dark eyes he reached to the fireplace hearth and grabbed the condom, tearing it with his teeth before rolling it on and stroking himself up and down with his large fist.
“You good with this?” he said in a low voice.
�
�Better than good,” she answered, watching him and thinking that he might be the most beautiful man she’d ever seen.
He slowly lowered himself between her legs then and gently, smoothly slid inside of her. She lay quietly then and let herself feel every tiny sensation, every point of pressure, every tingle and ache. It was something she hadn’t done in so many years she couldn’t recall the last time. Because with clients at this point she would have shut off, moaning on cue, letting them thrust and pant, as she recounted the grocery shopping or lunch appointment she’d planned for the next day. Because if she let down for even a moment she would never have been able to stand it. The invasion, the reality that she was only a vessel, not a person, the possibility that she might inadvertently be aroused when she didn’t know, much less like, the man. She had steeled herself against every bit of it, and now, she was free.
Finally free.
Free because she wanted to be there with Derek no matter what, wanted to experience every moment with him, as part of this thing that was bigger than either of them alone.
“You with me?” he whispered in her ear before he kissed her cheek gently.
“Yes. I’m here.”
“Good. Because this is us, remember that. Derek and London.”
“So good,” she gasped, as he pressed even deeper into her.
“Fucking spectacular,” he answered before he pumped harder, while he looked down into her face. She couldn’t turn away from him. His blue eyes held her gaze with such devotion and heat her heart nearly burst out of her chest.
He hooked his arm under one of her knees, his hips pistoning against hers over and over. The change in position allowed him to sink deeper into her and the pressure in her core built quickly.
“You make me feel like I’ve died and gone to heaven,” he told her, his gaze roaming over her features.
Her eyes slid shut and she shifted to get greater friction against her clit. “Close,” she whispered.
He bent his head down, grazed his lips across hers, and she exploded. Behind her eyelids the world was covered in a spray of stars and fireworks as her deepest parts clutched at him and sucked him in until he was crying out her name, his breath hot on her neck and his big body shuddering above hers.
When the last wave rolled through them, Derek collapsed on top of her, his lips pressed to her neck, his hands wound into her hair. Her heart beat strong and hard inside her chest and she briefly thought that if she died tonight she wouldn’t regret it because she had finally done something right with her life.
Chapter 13
Derek felt like a teenage boy who’d just discovered sex. All he could think about was London—sex with London. He made love to her three times before they finally collapsed in front of the fireplace and slept for a few hours. When he woke at nearly four a.m. with a stiff neck from sleeping on the floor, he scooped her up, carried her to his bed, and made her scream his name one more time.
Now it was nine o’clock, the latest he’d slept in years, and he knew Renee would wonder where the hell he was, but he didn’t give a damn, he just wanted to get inside of London again.
“You’re staring,” she mumbled without opening an eye.
He nuzzled her cheek and growled.
“And you’re thinking very dirty thoughts Mr. Ambrose.”
“How do you know that?” His hand slipped beneath the sheets and he found the sweet curve of the underside of her breast.
She moaned and wriggled. “I think the first clue was that large package pressed against my hip.”
He chuckled. “Not so subtle, hmm?”
The sound of his phone ringing interrupted her response.
“Hell,” he muttered, taking a deep whiff of the spicy scent in her hair. “I’ve been dreading this.”
She rolled over and snatched his phone off the nightstand before handing it to him. “I’ll go make some coffee,” she whispered before she climbed out of the bed and pulled on one of his discarded dress shirts. He watched her walk out the door, phone still ringing in his hand, a grin on his face. When he finally looked down at the screen his smile melted away like chocolate in the hot summer sun.
“I wish I could say ‘good morning’, but I know it won’t be if you’re calling already.”
“Considering you jettisoned your whole career yesterday, not to mention a presidential campaign eighteen months in the making, I find it hard to believe you would have had a good morning no matter what.”
Derek stood and went to the dresser to get a pair of sweats, donning them commando as he held the phone between his ear and shoulder.
“If you only called to bitch about my choices, we may as well hang up right now.”
Kamal sighed deeply on the other end of the call. “No, although you do need to hear some sense about throwing away fifteen years’ worth of work for a woman you’ve known a month.”
“Kamal,” Derek warned.
“I have new information on Nick Patterson’s wife.”
Derek walked into the adjoining bathroom and spread toothpaste on his toothbrush. “Give it to me,” he said around the toothbrush he shoved in his mouth.
“It appears that she might have a gambling problem.”
Derek spit, wiping the back of his wrist across his mouth. “What? That can’t be.”
“It sure looks that way. She was visiting the Bel Air Casino several times a week for the last year and a half or so.”
“And I’m guessing she lost.”
“A lot.”
Shit. Derek ran a hand across his unshaven jaw. “So now the question is whether her gambling is somehow mixed up in all of this?”
“Exactly. On the face of it there’s no reason to think it’s all linked, but you and I both know that you have to follow every lead no matter how unlikely.”
“Okay. I’ve got lunch with Nick today. I’ll see what I can find out from him.”
There was a pause on the other end of the call, and all Derek could hear was Kamal’s breath and the background noises of staff talking in the embassy offices.
“I assume she’s there with you?” Kamal asked, his voice low.
“Not in the room, but in the house, yes.” Derek felt his blood pressure rise as he prepared to battle his best friend. It seemed that lately that was all they did.
“I want to run a deeper background check on her mother,” Kamal said briskly.
“That’s not necessary.” Derek’s response was sharp.
“Yes. It is. We know nothing about them before they landed here in the States. London was only two years old, but her mother had a life in Iran. We need to know what that life was. We need to know who she was before she immigrated. If you’re going to throw it all away for this woman at least find out who she is first.”
“Goddammit. How many times do I have to tell you that I know everything I need to? I know her. As she is today. And I trust her and care about her. That’s enough for me, it needs to be enough for you too.”
“It’s not.”
“Well get over it,” Derek snapped.
The line went silent again, but this time it was Derek who broke the standoff. “I understand that you think you’re helping. But you’re not. This is hard, but it’s not half as hard as it would be for me to leave her behind and move on as if she didn’t matter. She matters. What Melville and I have done to her matters, what I feel about her matters. I appreciate your help with all of this. And I want to find out who created this mess as much as you do, but I will not make London into the enemy. If you can’t accept that then maybe you need to take a step back.”
“Maybe I do,” Kamal replied. “Because I really can’t see continuing to help you ruin yourself, and I know that’s what you’re doing here. You’ve never been self-destructive, but I’ll tell you, you’re doing a fine job of it now.”
“Enough!” Derek finally roared, his head pounding with frustration.
“You’re right, it’s more than enough,” Kamal snapped back. “I’m done.”
<
br /> “Yes,” Derek answered, a burning sensation filtering into his gut. “We are.”
He stabbed at the screen and ended the call. As his eyes drifted to the tangled sheets he’d made love to London on, he wondered why someone—anyone—couldn’t be happy for him, because what he’d felt in that bed last night went far beyond a good screw, and he wanted to keep on feeling this way for as long as she’d have him. He was well and truly head over heels for the woman who’d just torn his world to bits.
Settling into the overstuffed leather armchair, Derek looked around the room, enjoying the anonymity the secluded corner afforded him. He’d quickly realized that if he sat in the center of the restaurant the way he typically did, he’d be the focus of stares and unwanted attention for the entire meal. He’d seen more than one camera phone pointed his direction as the Maître D’ had led him through the room.
The Hampshire Pub had been a favorite eating spot for Washington’s elite politicians and political professionals for three decades. The upscale Old English décor, complete with a long polished bar, leather club chairs, and dark wood paneling, drew congressmen, diplomats, and consultants, as well as the occasional political spouse or visiting Governor.
Normally, Derek would be in the center of it all, holding court, greeting officials of his own party, trading barbs with those of the opposing party, but today, he hid. He didn’t like it, but he also didn’t feel like having his every move documented by gossipmongers.
“Derek.” Nick Patterson held out his hand as he reached the table. “It’s good to see you.”
Derek stood and shook Nick’s hand before they both sat. The Maître D’ took Nick’s drink order and slid away, his features carefully neutral and polite.
“It’s good to see you, Nick. Thanks for meeting me.”
“Of course, you know I’m happy to see you anytime.”
Derek took a sip of the bourbon he’d ordered when he arrived. “Well, you’re running the risk the party bosses will chastise you for associating with me at this point.”
Nick scoffed. “That’s one of the benefits of being a consultant—I don’t have to listen to the party. I don’t work for them, and they don’t control my business.”
The Kingmaker (Powerplay #1) Page 17