“Not true. I would have to work three times as hard as my colleagues to convince anyone that I had been hired for my abilities in the office, not the bedroom.”
“You would work three times as hard anyway. That’s who you are. That’s why Greg wants to hire you.”
“I know your intentions are good, but you can’t just upend my life.” Kyra hesitated before she asked a question she didn’t want the answer to. “What happens when our relationship ends? Do I have to find another job?”
He shifted restlessly. “You won’t hold the job because we’re in a relationship. You’ll keep it because you’re good at it. Or lose it because you’re not.”
“It would be awkward to meet around the conference table or in the elevator.”
“I’m sure we could handle it like civilized adults,” he said with a shrug. Then he leaned forward. “Why are you so sure our relationship will end?”
“Oh, Will, come on. Let’s not kid ourselves.” She tried to sound cool and sophisticated but a huskiness had crept into her voice. Maybe he wouldn’t notice.
“About what?” He peered at her through the dimness, an occasional flare of light catching his intent eyes.
“You’re you. CEO. Billionaire. Connecticut aristocracy. College graduate. I’m me. Bartender-slash-cook. In debt. Blue collar. College dropout.” She shrugged. “We’ve got nothing in common except great sex.”
“You don’t really believe that.” Hurt and anger rang in his voice. “The sex is just icing on the cake.”
She didn’t want to be honest but she owed it to him. “No, I don’t believe that.”
“Thank you.”
“Here’s what I believe. We are too unequal. The fact that you could and would offer me a job I have no qualifications for demonstrates that in spades.” She looked down at her hands. “I was trying to fool myself into thinking it didn’t matter. It’s the twenty-first century. A commoner can marry a future king. Blah, blah, blah.”
She curled her fingers into fists. “I just want to love you as an equal. A simple exchange of emotions. But the equation doesn’t balance. It can’t.”
The limousine glided to a halt and the chauffeur’s voice announced that they were home. Will ignored him. “Go back a couple of sentences. What did you say?”
“We’re too unequal to work.”
“No, you said you want to love me. What does that mean?”
“It seems pretty clear.” She gave up on maintaining her pride. “I fell in love with you. I didn’t mean to. I knew it was a mistake. Now I have to deal with it.”
“You didn’t tell me.”
“It seemed . . . irrelevant.” She flexed her fingers open. “Why don’t you just let me go home?”
“No.” He reached across her to push open the car door. “I want to see your face.”
She noticed that he hadn’t declared his love for her. Not that she’d expected it, but a girl could dream crazy dreams.
Resigned, she climbed out of the limo and trudged up the steps to his door. He did the hand-waving thing and they were inside. When he indicated that she should precede him into the formal living room with an angry jerk of his head, she contrasted it with last night’s welcome. Yep, there was the chair he’d positioned her over, a cube of black leather cushions held together by a shiny steel frame. She hadn’t really had a chance to look at it before, given that she’d been distracted by their more interesting activities.
Will paced over to a built-in bar, slamming open a cabinet door and plunking a rocks glass down on the marble countertop with a noticeable thud. “Would you like a drink?” he asked, even as he poured scotch into the glass. “Because I sure as hell need one.”
“No, thanks.”
He tossed the contents of his glass down in one gulp before turning to her, his jaw tight with anger. “Let me understand this. You are not going to take the job. And you are not going to continue our relationship because you think I made it up. And you neglected to tell me that you are in love with me.”
He turned back to the bar to splash more scotch in his glass. Kyra realized that she had never seen Will furious before this. He was a little scary in his intensity.
“Yes.”
“That’s all? Just ‘yes’?” he snapped. “I think you owe me more than that.” He put the glass back on the counter and crossed the room to tower over her before he took her by the shoulders and yanked her against him. Bending down, he took her lips in a punishing kiss as his hands moved over her. He kneaded her bottom hard, then shifted one hand around to cup between her thighs, pushing against her clit through her trousers. With his tongue, he explored her mouth aggressively, not asking but demanding.
She curled her hands over his shoulders and held on, letting him set her body on fire. Her panties grew damp as he rubbed against her. He must have felt it through the outer fabric because a growl of satisfaction rumbled in the back of his throat. He released her lips and raised his head enough to scan her face. “Tell me you don’t want me,” he said, his fingers still stroking and pressing while his other hand gripped her buttock to hold her against his erection.
“I’ve wanted you since college,” she said, her voice a breathless rasp.
With a crow of triumph, he bent and swung her up in his arms, walking down the hall to the elevator.
She twined her arms around his neck and let him. One last time. It couldn’t make their good-bye any more painful.
As they rode up in the elevator, he curved his long fingers over her breast, tweaking the hard nipple so that she felt an answering pulse between her legs.
The door slid open and he strode over to the bed, lowering her with surprising gentleness before he came down on top of her. He pinned her wrists over her head with one hand and went back to work on her breast. His hips were cradled between her thighs so his cock pushed against her clit.
She arched against him for more friction there, and he lowered his head to the side of her neck, sucking hard enough to balance on that erotic edge between pleasure and pain.
“I want you here in my bed,” he growled against her skin. “Every night. All night. Until morning.”
Kyra threaded her fingers into his hair and pulled his head up so she could look into his beautiful eyes. “Once more.”
“We’ll discuss that in the morning,” he said.
They stripped each other’s clothes off in a mad tangle of arms, legs, and fabric before he rolled on a condom and sank himself into her in a hard, claiming thrust. He braced himself over her on his forearms, his eyes locked on her face as he flexed his hips and withdrew before driving back into her. “You. Want. This.” He chanted a word on each thrust.
“Yes,” she answered as he came into her each time. “Yes. Yes.”
He would not bring either one of them to orgasm, keeping his rhythm just below the pace where they would come, lowering his mouth to suck at her breasts, sending streaks of pleasure down to where his cock filled her. And then, without warning, her muscles convulsed and she arched up into him, gasping out his name as her climax broke over her again and again while he continued to move inside her.
As her shudders eased, he pushed deep into her and went still before her name seemed to wrench from him, a full-throated shout of pure physical ecstasy, while his cock pumped within her. She opened her eyes to see his head thrown back, sweat-darkened strands of hair clinging to his temples and neck.
The sight sent another ripple of response through her, making him groan and stroke in again.
He let his head fall forward to hang between his shoulders, his breath blasting over her skin as he panted, his hips pinning her pelvis to the mattress as his cock softened inside her. Her knees were still bent, feet braced on the bed, to offer herself to him, and she slowly let her feet slide downward beside his calves, feeling the slight tickle of the hair dusted over the hard muscles.
Yes, she wanted this in ways that frightened her. This exquisite melt of utter satiation, the masculine weight of him,
the warmth of his skin, the beat of his heart against her breasts, the scent of sexual perfume, the knowledge that she had driven him to a desire so intense that he forgot all his well-bred self-control.
But she also wanted the teasing literary texts, the shelter of his body when the helicopter rotors whipped up the wind, the flash of laughter in his eyes when they met hers at a stuffy party, the seductive choreography of working beside him in the kitchen, the wonder on his face as he talked about the kids.
She wanted to share the journey he was about to embark on because she saw it happening in him. The longing to be fully himself, to no longer allow others to define him.
But he could make that journey without her. And maybe he needed to.
It struck her that the job offer might have been his way of taking care of her in the future when they were no longer lovers. Maybe he didn’t even realize it, but he was foreseeing the end as well. And being Will, he felt responsible.
As he slid out of her and rolled away to remove the condom, she felt a choking sensation of loss, both physical and emotional.
But he came back to snuggle them both under the duvet, legs intertwined as he cradled her on his wide, hard chest. “I didn’t mean to be that . . . abrupt,” he said, stroking her shoulder with a touch so light that it almost tickled.
“I told you yes and I meant it,” she said, feathering her fingertips over his pecs in return.
His chest rose and fell on a deep breath. “Kyra, I care about you. Deeply. But I—”
She lifted her finger to his lips, laying it across them to shush him. “I don’t expect you to love me. I didn’t even mean to tell you. It slipped out because I was being honest.”
“Your honesty is one of the things I admire about you.” The stroking stopped. “I’ll be honest with you in return. I thought I loved Petra. You know what happened.”
He didn’t trust his own feelings anymore. She could understand that. “She’s charming and dazzlingly beautiful, and she had your parents’ seal of approval. That’s a powerful combination.”
He shifted under her and she knew she’d been too honest, but he surprised her. “It’s almost a relief to hear that. I wondered why I had been so wrong about her.” His fingers began to move over her skin again.
Exhaustion rolled over her like a billow of fog, hazing her mind and making her eyelids heavy. The day had been long. The emotions had been intense. She was tired of being mature and understanding and self-sacrificing.
All she wanted was to savor this last night in Will’s arms, in Will’s huge bed, with Will’s body pressed against, and maybe later, inside hers. “No more talking,” she said. “I’m wrung out.”
He settled her more comfortably, his lips against her temple. “Sleep as long as you want. Tomorrow is Saturday.”
The luxury of that thought floated with her into the temporary oblivion of slumber.
Will lay awake, staring at the shadowy ceiling twenty feet over his head while Kyra slumbered in his arms. The curves of her breasts were soft against his side, her even breathing whispered over his chest, the silk of her hair cascaded across his shoulder and arm.
He’d behaved like a brute, while this incredible woman had shown a patience and understanding he didn’t deserve. The anger that had blazed through him when she said they were finished had been uncontrollable. Where the hell had that come from?
Guilt. He’d failed to help her because he had underestimated her integrity. He’d been so enamored of his role as knight in shining armor that he hadn’t thought through his plan with any clarity. Of course, she would see all the ramifications, because she was smart. That was part of her attraction for him.
But what an asshole he was to vent his anger on her. It was his fault, not hers.
God, it had been hot sex, though. She’d been right there with him, her orgasm exploding around his cock. He closed his eyes to relive the memory. He’d had her tight nipple sucked in between his lips when he’d felt the first clench of her muscles. Her fingers had dug hard into his shoulders as she pushed up underneath him with a power that blew his mind. He’d held off his finish as long as he could, wanting to feel every one of her contractions, driving her to more.
His cock began to stir, but he wasn’t going to wake her. Yet.
He opened his eyes again. He was avoiding the thing he didn’t want to deal with. That she loved him.
He should have lied. Should have said the words she wanted to hear. How hard would that have been?
A silent groan formed in his throat.
It was impossible. He’d accused Kyra of being a chameleon, but she’d always been open and direct with him. He had to answer her with the same respect.
What he’d felt for Petra was a steady flame. His feelings for Kyra were a furnace blast that verged on obsession. He texted her between meetings, digging up quotations to coax her into a reply. He accepted dinner invitations that he used to refuse just to fill the time until Kyra got off work from Stratus. During the dinners, he fantasized about how he would make love to her.
Tightening his grip on her, he tried not to count the seconds ticking by.
If he asked her to stay with him, she might. He could use her love as leverage if she thought he needed her. But this intense infatuation would inevitably burn itself out, and he would once again find himself having to hurt a woman he cared about.
And that would damage both of them in profound ways.
As a moonbeam painted a stripe of silver across the duvet, Will faced the fact that he’d never before had to give up anything he truly wanted. Was that a testament to his determination or to his selfishness? Kyra might be able to tell him, but he sure as hell didn’t know himself.
So he was going to let her walk out of his life tomorrow morning without telling her that she was ripping his guts out.
Because she deserved to go with a clear conscience.
Chapter 15
Light pulsed against Kyra’s eyelids and she tried to yank the covers over her head, but some weight was pinning them down. A big warm body beside her. Will. For a moment her lips curved in a smile but as sleep withdrew its comforting veil, memory surged in a flash of misery.
Her muscles actually twitched in protest as she realized this was the last time she would lie in bed with Will’s arm thrown over her waist, his palm grazing her breast, ready to cup it persuasively when he woke up.
She couldn’t see a clock but the sun was strong, so it must be midmorning.
Not surprising since they’d gone to sleep late. Then sometime in the middle of the night, one of them had awakened the other—she couldn’t really remember who. They’d made love so slowly and sensually that it seemed they had all the time in the world. Really, though, it was a long, wistful farewell, as though they were trying to memorize every contour of each other’s bodies for when they were apart.
She’d thought maybe they would lose themselves in each other one more time in a pale dawn glow, but exhaustion had clearly overpowered them. Somehow the bright glare of full daytime made her feel it was past time to go.
Will’s arm was still relaxed in sleep, so she lay there, torn between wanting to get their parting over with and not wanting to give up the feel of his body wound around hers. Suddenly, silent tears flowed down her cheeks. She had to hold her breath to keep from sobbing. This was not how she wanted to say good-bye to Will.
“Kyra?” Will’s voice was gruff with slumber. She must have moved in spite of herself.
She swallowed hard and turned her face against the pillow, trying to blot the tears. “I’m sorry I woke you.”
He moved his hand carefully away from her breast, tucking it between her rib cage and the mattress so she was held against him even more firmly. “I’m not.”
She was going to cry again if he said one more nice thing to her. “I need to go.”
“It’s Saturday.”
“I don’t want to drag this out.”
He jerked as though he’d just remembered the
night before himself. “I see.” Then the weight of his arm was gone and she felt him roll away from her.
She grabbed the corner of the sheet to swipe it surreptitiously over her cheeks. Then she scrambled off the bed. Turning to face him when she was naked was difficult. But he lay on his back, gazing at the ceiling.
“It’s hard enough to say good-bye,” she said.
“Right,” he said, his face still turned away from her. She’d never heard Will so monosyllabic.
Suddenly, he threw off the covers and swung his legs over the side of the bed. She allowed herself one last scan of his long, muscled body before she began the search for her clothes. They’d tossed them every which way last night, so she had to hunt around the bed for the dark puddles of fabric.
“These are yours.” Will’s voice yanked her attention to her bra and panties dangling from his elegant fingers.
“Thanks.” A ridiculous sense of modesty made her turn her back to wriggle into them.
She heard the hiss of fabric against skin and glanced around to see Will pull on his jeans without benefit of briefs. The sight sent a spear of heat through her. She scooped up her own trousers and tugged them up. Her top was missing in action. Getting down on her hands and knees to peer under the bed would be the perfect addition to the awfulness of the moment.
But Will rescued her by rummaging around among the sheets and pillows to pull out both their shirts. “Apologies for the wrinkles,” he said with a tight smile.
This time she didn’t bother to hide as she slipped the crumpled black top over her head while he did the same with his shirt.
They faced each other. She noticed that several golden strands of Will’s hair stuck out from the side of his head and that one side of his collar was turned up while the other was down. His face was shuttered, nothing showing except for shadows moving in his eyes.
The five feet of air between them vibrated with all the words they held back.
“I hope you consider teaching,” she said. “You should give yourself that gift.”
Second Time Around (Second Glances) Page 23