by Alexis Hall
Since we were only just beginning to rediscover our boundaries, I lifted my arms above my head and curled my fingers round the slats of the headboard. It was voluntary vulnerability, but…yikes. I’d forgotten how deep such choices could take you. Especially when you felt about someone the way I felt about Caspian—as if there was no corner of me I wouldn’t yield up to his pleasure. For his taking.
At the gesture—at the offering of myself—Caspian gave this helpless groan. And fell on me like a wild beast, his hands everywhere, stroking and caressing, marking me not with cruelty, though, honestly, I would have been okay with that too, but with love. There was very little finesse to it, especially from a man who knew my body well enough to bend me to his will with ease, just a raw desire to touch me—to feel me writhe and shake and come alive beneath his palms.
“I missed you,” he whispered. “I missed you. I missed you.”
“I missed you too. So much. But I’m here now. And I’ll never leave you again.” Wait. That was a terrible thing to say. “I mean, unless we grow apart or our lives are no longer compatible or one of us falls in love with someone else or something.”
“I know what you meant.” Smiling, he kissed me, his mouth sweet with the promise of laughter.
My fingers were starting to ache—nothing I couldn’t endure, but it reminded me of other, older hurts. “Caspian, it’s okay if you can’t, but I’d love to see you. Will you take your clothes off for me?”
He drew in a sharp breath.
“I honestly don’t mind if you—”
“Of course I will.”
Climbing to his feet, he began to strip. At best, it was efficient. At worst, self-conscious.
“I get that, for you, your body isn’t a source of joy,” I said, “but it is for me. I guess I just wanted to tell you that—so you understand what it means when you choose to share it.”
“I wish I could give you everything.” He joined me again on the bed, this impossible paragon of masculine beauty, who was more mine than he had ever been his own. And looked so heartbreakingly uncertain, right now, despite the fact I was stretched out like a spatchcock and drooling precome onto my own stomach.
“What do you mean?”
“You…you know what I mean.”
I guess I did. I’d hinted to Caspian once before that I might enjoy it if we flipped sometimes, and he’d made it pretty clear he wasn’t up for that, but I didn’t think he’d remembered. Let alone been dwelling on it enough that he believed it was a problem for me. “Oh, Caspian, that’s not everything. That’s nothing.”
“It’s something to me.” He covered my body with his and I tucked my knees against his flanks, offering him some small shelter. “It feels like failure that I…that I can’t.”
“It’s okay to be into some things and not others. For all you know, this could have always been your preference.”
“But what if he…”
“Maybe he did. Maybe he didn’t. Who you are now is all that matters. And I love you, and I want you—this you, the one who’s offered me his heart, and a life, and a home. Not some hypothetical you who could have existed if things had been different.”
Caspian ducked his head, a deep shudder running through him. “I want…I want you to touch me.”
Part of me was running around in circles, setting off streamers, and shouting yes please. But there was no way I was fucking this up by taking it too far. “How? Command me. I’ll do anything for you.”
“Touch me, Arden.” His head came up again, jaw set, eyes glittering wolfishly. “As you did that night at One Hyde Park.”
“You were really okay with that?”
“I’m not sure. It was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. But I think about it all the time. Your hands. The way you looked at me.”
“I realise now how much trust it took. And”—eeep, I was getting weepy—“I loved it too.”
Before I could kill our boners with my emotions, I released the headboard and nudged Caspian onto his side, wriggling out from under him so I could mirror his pose. There was something unexpectedly innocent about it, lying there with our faces level, my knees tucked against his thighs—and I couldn’t resist inching across the pillow to nudge the tip of my nose against his. It drew a laugh from him, which meant he didn’t even flinch when my palm settled over his flank, my thumb stroking lightly over the groove of his V-cut.
Emboldened, I let my fingers wander. Over the ridges of his abdomen, and through the crisp dark hair on his chest, and up and down his throat, feeling the prickle of his stubble, and the shifting of his skin as he swallowed. I tracked his responses in the pattern of his breath, the occasional flutter of his lashes, learning in the tiniest of increments how to please him. How to show him he was beautiful. And worshipped. And safe.
When I finally wrapped my hand around him, there was as much shock as enjoyment in his gasp and I paused, until the buck of his hips drove his cock deep into the channel of my fist. And then the sound he made was all desire—as rich and sweet as chocolate. I can’t say I didn’t spare a thought for my lavish collection of luxury lubes, but there was something unexpectedly special, too, in the simplicity of hand to skin. The shape of Caspian’s body matched to mine. His eyes so close I could have counted the silver fractals in his irises. And his soft moans landing on my lips like kisses.
And then he was touching me too, enfolding me in the warmth of his grasp, and I behaved with great dignity about it. Definitely no wild squirming or hysterical feet kicking or losing-my-mind whimpering.
“If…if you do that…” I said, gulping down air. “I’ll get distracted and it won’t be—as good.”
Caspian treated me…subjected me…to a gloriously long stroke, slow and tight, and excruciating, and exquisite, like he was in Ollivanders and my dick was his perfect wand. “On the contrary, I think it will be better.”
I tried. I really did. But in less than a minute I was wrecked, my mind in splinters, and my rhythm all to pieces, and my mouth opening and closing on a series of high-pitched needy noises that were probably embarrassing but who gave a fuck? Not me. I was having way too much fun, although I was less wanking Caspian off now, than clinging desperately onto his cock as pleasure tossed me about with the force of driftwood on choppy seas.
“Oh, fuck…Caspian…” I curled my free hand over his forearm. “I don’t think—I can’t…I’m going…”
He gaze held mine, even through the tumults of passion—his love as naked as our bodies, alongside that twist of cruelty that I’d always found so thrilling. “Do it. Lose control.”
I thrashed, caught on the fishhook of my need to please him. “I…I…”
“For me, my Arden.”
And I came in a rush of pure surrender. Learning only when I resurfaced from the deep moon-grey haze of it that Caspian had been with me all along, spilling himself into my hand, as I had into his. It meant we were damp and sticky as we rolled into each other’s arms but I licked up most of it, while Caspian blushed, and I’m not sure we’d have cared anyway. We just wanted to be close.
I stuck my nose into Caspian’s neck and inhaled. “I love how we smell together.”
“You’re depraved.”
“Yep yep.” I kissed him and settled into a more conventional position in the crook of his arm. “This shouldn’t be news.”
He smiled. “It’s not. And I shall endeavour to live up to your depravity.”
“If we spent the rest of our lives doing what we did tonight, I wouldn’t feel I was missing out.”
“Nor would I, but”—his hand swooped down my spine and over the curve of my arse—“that doesn’t mean I’m not willing to try other things.”
I bounced myself into his palm. “I’m looking forward to it.”
“It may take…time. Another journey, I’m afraid.”
“Everything’s a journey. But what a fucking amazing one to have ahead of us, don’t you think?”
“Yes,” he said softly. “A
fucking amazing journey.”
And Caspian hardly ever swore—I guess because he was all refined and sophisticated and shit—so it was how I knew he meant it. How I knew, as I let myself drift blissfully towards sleep, that, somehow, against all the odds, we really were going to make it.
Chapter 46
Caspian woke me…I wasn’t sure…later. Though not as later as I’d have liked, because the room was still dark and I was still knackered.
“Arden,” he said. “I’m…I’m sorry.”
Okay. Now I was really fucking awake. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. Just that”—he shifted restlessly and I suddenly realised this kind of anxious heat was pouring off him—“I don’t think I can stay.”
“In the bed. Right? Tell me you mean in the bed.”
His shadow made a startled motion in the gloom. “Oh God. Yes, the bed.”
“Jesus fuck.” I slammed my head against the pillow. “You scared the crap out of me, you hopeless bastard.”
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” He covered his face with his hands. “I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t want you to wake alone.”
Breathing. Yep. Check. Still working. “I appreciate that. It was totally the right impulse. Totally wrong delivery.”
“I thought it might be different.”
“Oh, Caspian.” I flailed out a hand as…I guess…an option for him, and was surprised when he took it, though his own was slightly clammy. “You’ve been saying all along it takes time for things to be different.”
“Then I suppose I hoped. I hoped I could do this for you.”
I sighed, embarrassed for my past self. “Look, I know I used to lose my shit over it, but that was only because I didn’t understand why you couldn’t be with me.”
“I want to be with you more than anything.”
“I know.” I smiled, hoping he would see it. “You’re in love with me, remember?”
“And that’s worth waking up in an empty bed?”
“It’s not even in question.” I gave his fingers a squeeze. “So what if you can’t spend the night with me. It’s enough that you wish you could.”
A rustle of covers and Caspian’s lips landed on my brow. “Thank you. Now go back to sleep. We’ll be together in the morning.”
“Hey now,” I protested. “Who said anything about going back to sleep?”
“It’s six a.m.”
“Let’s get up together.”
“Arden…”
“Don’t Arden me. You’re not my mum. You don’t get to say when I get up and go to bed.”
He released my hand, putting his own to his brow. “This is ridiculous.”
“Well, I’m not going to do it every time. Mostly, I’ll want you to kiss me sweetly and slide out discreetly. Maybe bring me breakfast later. Because I’m fucking grumpy first thing.”
“I’m aware,” he said, rather dryly.
I pulled a Gothic heroine pose. “Oh my God, are you sure you can stay with me? How can you possibly love someone who is so moody in the mornings? What if I’m always moody in the mornings?”
“Well”—Caspian’s voice became very grave indeed—“being moody in the mornings doesn’t have to define you. And even if it never changes, we’ll find a way through it together.”
I laughed and he kissed me and so the two became tangled—which messed up both, but it didn’t matter.
“Did you say there was a roof terrace?” I asked.
“Yes, it’s…on the roof.”
“Good to know. Can we see it?”
I could feel Caspian’s bewilderment, but he agreed regardless. We made an odd party, groping our way up there in the semidarkness, me in my frock, and Caspian in a half-buttoned evening shirt and black trousers, both of us barefoot, and carrying the duvet I’d insisted we bring. It was lighter outside, dawn already beginning to push at the edges of the sky, ripples of pink spreading across the grey-blue clouds like raspberry sauce over an ice cream sundae.
As with the bedroom, the terrace had been maintained but not cared for: a collection of empty plant pots and one of those rattan sofas beneath a protective cover, which we peeled away. The sofa itself was surprisingly cosy once we got settled, although I was glad for the duvet because my dress wasn’t exactly suitable for winter days. It was a while before Caspian felt cuddly but the fresh air and open space seemed to do him good. And eventually, he moved up behind me and drew me into his arms.
“We can go inside again,” he said. “If you want.”
I snuggled into him and made sure my feet were properly wrapped up. “Why don’t we stay? We can watch the sun rise.”
“As long as you aren’t cold.”
“I’m perfect. And maybe, afterwards, you can take me to a café for breakfast.”
“Shouldn’t we get changed first?”
I thought about it for a moment. “No.”
“Then”—he tweaked my hair out of my eyes for me and folded the duvet even more tightly around me—“that’s what we’ll do.”
We didn’t speak much after that. Just sat together, watching the world shed its nighttime colours for new ones. The house was only three stories high, so, in all honesty, the view was mainly of other people’s roof gardens. But I liked the higgledy-piggledy press of the surrounding buildings, with their chimneys and their sloping eaves, the crumbling forests of television aerials and satellite dishes, and we had our own piece of steadily brightening sky.
It was kind of weird to think I’d spent so long dreaming about the end of my story with Caspian: the airport chase and the promise of forever and the kiss in the rain as the orchestra soared and the credits rolled. And yet here we were. The same people we’d always been. Exactly where we were supposed to be.
All that time, waiting like a fool for an ending.
When what I’d really wanted—what we’d both needed—was a beginning.
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About the Author
Alexis Hall is the billionaire CEO of a financial services company that he does not understand in the slightest.
To learn more, visit:
quicunquevult.com
Twitter @quicunquevult
Facebook.com/quicunquevult
Also by Alexis Hall
How to Bang a Billionaire
How to Blow It with a Billionaire
Praise for Alexis Hall
and His Novels
“How to Blow It with a Billionaire is zany fun, sexy, and heartbreaking.”
—Harlequin Junkie
“Sexy, funny, clever, smart.”
—All About Romance on How to Blow It with a Billionaire
“Simply the best writer I’ve come across in years.”
—New York Times bestselling author Laura Kinsale
“Fans of Hall’s amazing debut, Glitterland, and the breadth of the author’s work since will demand this latest.”
—Library Journal on How to Bang a Billionaire
“5 Stars! Top Pick! Fantastic. Funny and full of feelz.”
—Night Owl Reviews on How to Bang a Billionaire
“Desert Isle Keeper. How to Bang a Billionaire is an entertaining read from beginning to the HFN ending, with the Prologue and the end scenes in Scotland pure undiluted Alexis Hall. Yes, of course, I shall be buying books two and three when they are released. Enjoy.”
—All About Romance on How to Bang a Billionaire
“A complex, poignant look at modern love, loneliness and sexual identity.”
—Washington Post on For Real
“Hall blends pleasure and pain, both erotic and emotional, to create an engrossing romance with sharpness hidden in the sweetly traditional power-exchange relationship.”
—Publishers Weekly, starred review, on For Real
“Heartbreaking, hopeful, gorgeous.”
—New York Ti
mes bestselling author Stephanie Tyler/SE Jakes on Glitterland
“[A] vibrantly dark world…Readers will delight in this series.”
—Foreword Reviews on Shadows & Dreams
“Utterly charming.”
—Publishers Weekly, starred review, on Looking for Group
“[A] deeply real consideration of the ways people choose to pursue their passions.”
—Kirkus Reviews on Looking for Group