She nodded. “I want this.”
He released his hold on her breast and looked at the dining table, littered with letters and other papers. He shoved all the papers from the table and then snapped his fingers and pointed. “Right here.”
She slid up onto the table and reached out to touch his face. But he pulled back. Disappointment flooded through her. Maybe he didn’t like kissing her. If it was just sex…
“I almost forgot.” He stepped out of the room, and she groaned her frustration. When he returned with the opened takeout container, she saw a piece of carrot cake and guessed his intentions, even as his fingers dipped into the frosting and then he touched her lips. “I ordered this dessert at lunch today with the intention of sharing it with you.”
Her heart stalled as she licked the sugar. While he was at lunch with other people, he’d been thinking about her.
The sweet gesture hit her hard in the gut. Had lunch been boring, or had he missed her? Was the carrot cake his favorite, too, or a happy coincidence? When exactly did he decide to see her on a Saturday? She squeezed her eyes, as if the action would stop her traitorous heart from overthinking everything. He couldn’t do this to her—she couldn’t let him charm her. Where was the hot and heavy sex?
He dragged another finger of frosting across her mouth and licked her lips at the same time his hand reached up her dress. With unmatched skill, he removed her underwear. The next dollop of sugary goodness slid over her sensitive flesh, and he dropped to his knees to taste her. It wasn’t until right then she understood the phrase, “Eyeballs rolled to the back of her head.” He took his sweet time licking her skin clean. His tongue danced back and forth, alternating between teasing flicks and fierce swirls.
The pressure hit her hard and fast—too fast—as she mumbled, “I’m coming.”
His muffled response, “Say my name,” had her panting, “Vin. Yes, Vin…”
Her muscles spasmed and her body clenched and released. Endless waves of pleasure washed over her. She exhaled a satisfied sigh, even as her heart refused to calm down.
How had he done that to her? Made her come so completely? So swiftly?
She’d closed her eyes, but when she opened them, he stood, grinning down at her. She couldn’t help it. She laughed at the smug expression on his face. The man wrecked her, and he had the audacity to look proud of that fact.
Sliding off the table, she sank to her knees and looked up at him. With her fingers on his belt, she said, “It’s my turn.”
His jaw dropped, and then he chuckled, even as he yanked off his shirt and shorts. “You’re not like other women I’ve known.”
Which she guessed was better than being like other women he’d known, but still… “You don’t know me.”
His finger tucked under her chin and nudged it up until she met his intense stare. “I know where to touch you to make you come in under a minute.”
…
Vin stared at Reece as she slid back into her dress. The woman never ceased to surprise him. He wished he could figure her out, but she remained a damn mystery. Probably why he couldn’t get her out of his thoughts. Last night, when he’d rolled into the parking garage after a particularly grueling bout with the lawyers, he’d searched for her car and noted the modest sedan next to Amelie’s flashier Aston Martin. Then, today during lunch, instead of focusing on the status of the latest software release, he’d read an online interview where she mentioned carrot cake as her favorite dessert. Other than the size of her bank account, Reece displayed none of the stereotypical qualities of the other South Beach socialites.
She popped another piece of cake into her delicious mouth and mumbled, “Where are we going?”
Damn, but he wanted to go another round with her. More frosting, more cake, more everything. He pulled on his shirt and shorts then bent to pick up a scattered piece of paper.
This IPO deal consumed all his time. Well, except for these moments when he lost himself in Reece. She was the living, breathing catalyst that started him on this journey, and most days he wanted to take her down a notch for the humiliation she’d caused him on his eleventh birthday. But today, watching her throw back her head and come so eagerly at his command, he just wanted to please her.
She crouched down next to him. “You don’t have to help. I can get this later.”
“I made the mess. I’ll pick it up.” He picked up a letter and read, “Cosmopolitan.”
“Magazine subscription.” She took the envelope and tossed it on the table.
“For the articles?”
She shook her head. “Nope. Pictures.”
He laughed and moved to pick up the stack of scholarship applications that had somehow fallen with the binder clip still in place. He read the first page, and a memory flashed back to his own application. When Reece’s father had awarded him the scholarship. Did she really not know? Remember? Care?
“Those are definitely not fashion magazine articles.” She grinned, taking the papers from him. “My stepmother insists I read through the scholarships and learn about The Rowe Foundation.”
“Why?” He placed another pile of mail on the edge of the dining table.
She glanced down at the pages in her hand and frowned before tossing the stack on the table with a thump. “She wants me to take over.”
He could see that. Each Rowe had their place in the family fortune, and he’d seen firsthand how organized and adept she was at running a large-scale event. Now would be a good time to come clean. Tell her how much he’d appreciated the scholarship and not wasted the opportunity. He didn’t know why, but something compelled him to share with her about their shared history. To tell her about her specific part in his success. To tell her about his youth. About the birthday party. How she’d rejected him. About how he’d earned a Rowe scholarship back in the day, giving him the real boost he needed to attend a private high school and then a four-year college.
But something also held him back. Instinct? It was only because of her and her family’s money that he’d gotten anywhere in the first place. Which made him incredibly sad. Because no matter how hard he worked or how successful he became, he’d never be like her. One of their own. Born and raised with the confidence only secure wealth could offer a person. So he kept his mouth shut and reminded himself this was temporary. That she’d proposed sex, and all the rest was just fake.
She hadn’t balked when he’d said he couldn’t date her. Hadn’t argued or debated the issue. Just said she didn’t want to date him but that she wouldn’t say no to sex. Well, he knew that movie. Had seen the poor boy from the wrong side of the tracks fall in love with the rich girl. That wouldn’t be him. He owed his gratitude to the Rowes, but he wouldn’t give Reece his heart, too.
“Vin?” She crawled toward him on her hands and knees, pushing him off his haunches and climbing into his lap as he stretched his legs after landing on his ass. “Where are you taking me? Is this my second fantasy or your second event?” She kissed the tip of his nose. “I need to know what to wear.”
He focused on the evening he’d planned and not on how her breasts pressed into his chest. “A mixture of both. I thought we could stop by my colleague’s daughter’s art gallery opening, and since it’s right by the marina, and you mentioned a boat…”
She wrapped her arms around his neck and groaned low in his ear. “Yes. A boat.” She stood and sucked in the lower corner of her lip. Her whole face brightened, and she shot him a diabolical grin. “I know just what to wear.” After one more kiss, she sauntered up the stairs, calling back to him, “Give me fifteen.”
True to her word, in fourteen minutes she returned, wearing a matching skirt and sweater set that complemented his own outfit. Not that he cared much about fashion, but he’d learned the basics from his PR people. At the back door, she slipped into Sperry loafers and looped a small purse over her shoulder.
With a little twirl, she said, “Does this look okay?”
“Better than okay,” he confir
med, again realizing she was nothing like any other woman he’d ever known.
He was losing his mind.
He’d already lost track of how many times he’d replayed their waterfall sex in his mind when he should’ve been focusing on business. And it wasn’t just the sex. He’d been reviewing a project charter and recalled how she’d planned an entire fundraiser. Then, at some point during lunch that afternoon, he’d caught the scent of a sweet dessert. This reminded him he’d yet to taste Reece. Had he really fucked her without putting his mouth on her? He shook his head in dismay.
She opened the door, but he spun her around. “Before we go…” Then he dipped his head and claimed her mouth one more time. She blinked up at him, clearly surprised by his kiss, and he grinned. “Let’s go.”
“Event number two,” she said as they walked to the parking garage.
He went on high alert.
After today, he’d have only four more dates. Would that be enough for his team to land another investor? Maybe he should have been more calculating with the plan. Spread the dates out over six weeks instead of cramming three into one long weekend. But today hadn’t been preplanned. If he stuck to the plan, he wouldn’t see her until Monday. He felt her studying him as they approached his sedan.
He blew out a breath. “Only four more after tonight.”
He opened her door and stared at her legs as she slid in all graceful and shit, but he hadn’t even clicked his seat belt in place before she said, “Well, that up there”—she gestured in the general direction of her condo—“does not count as one of my six.”
He couldn’t hide his smile. “Of course not.”
“Good.” She folded her hands in her lap and gazed out the window.
As far as anyone else knew, Reece Rowe had perfected calm and collected, but Vin knew her secret. The woman had a wild streak.
As they exited the garage and he reached for his sunglasses, he said, “For the record, I think you’d be great at running your family’s foundation.”
He heard the suspicion in her voice when she asked, “How would you know?”
“The fundraiser,” he reminded her. “Pulling that off took some serious skills. I have project managers who could learn a trick or two from you.”
From the corner of his eye, he saw her shrug. “My master’s is in project management.”
Keeping his eyes on the road, he asked, “Are you avoiding my compliment?”
She gave a little smirky sound. “Fine. Thank you. Why don’t we focus on the art gallery and not on my education?”
At the stoplight, he glanced over at her. She’d put on dark designer sunglasses, looking poised and proper. “You might know the gallery owner. Lissette Larson. Her father is a former city commissioner, although he’s into banking these days.”
She pulled a tube of lipstick out of her purse. “Our fathers play racquetball the first of the month.”
The casual way she said it shouldn’t have surprised him. All the old, rich guys had connections. “Should’ve known you know a former commissioner.”
She caught his eye and grinned. “More like my father, but yeah, we’d recognize each other on the street.”
“We don’t have to stay too long.”
With her freshly applied gloss, her lips begged him to smudge them when she said, “Oh, yes. The boat.”
Chapter Nine
“Reece!”
Vin saw red as a guy with light blond hair wrapped his date in a familiar embrace. His first urge was to shove the guy out of the way. Until he saw the joy on Reece’s face. What the hell? Who was this douche? Dressed in a Tommy Bahama shirt and what looked like swim trunks, this guy couldn’t be here for the gallery opening, could he?
The guy leaned back just enough to stroke a hand down her face. “Still hot as ever.”
She grinned into the other man’s face. “Pony! When did you get back?”
“Last night. My dad said if I wasn’t here for this”—he waved his hand behind him—“he’d reinvest next month’s dividends instead of transferring them to my account.”
“Harsh.” Reece wiggled out of his hug and turned him to Vin. “Curtis Larson, this is Vincent Ferguson.”
Curtis extended a hand, giving Vin a wide smile. “Hey, man, nice to meet you.”
Vin gave a forced smile and shook the millionaire’s hand. Daddy’s dividends, his ass. One more ridiculous reminder Reece and he really were from two separate worlds. “Yeah, Curtis, nice to meet you.”
Curtis grinned at Reece for a moment too long, in Vin’s book, but then to Vin he said, “Come on. If you’re anything like me, you’ll want a drink in your hand before you brave that crowd.” He nodded toward the gallery.
Vin doubted he was anything like Curtis, but— “I wouldn’t say no to a whiskey.”
Curtis shrugged. “I’m more of a beer guy myself, but the bar has both.”
A woman waved at Reece, and she waved back. “You go with Curtis. I’m going to say hello to Claudia. Come find me after?”
Vin recognized the woman from the fundraiser. “I’ll bring you a glass of something white.”
“Perfect.” She rose on her toes and kissed his cheek. “Make sure you smile at the reporters.”
Her spontaneous kiss made sense now that Vin turned and smiled as some photog snapped another shot. Then he strode with Curtis to the bar, not eager to be separated from Reece for too long. When he glanced over at her, she stood among what could only be considered South Beach’s who’s who of socialites. From this distance, the scene was everything Vin wished he’d been raised with and everything he couldn’t stand about this place. The group looked too coordinated, in their thousand-dollar outfits designed to look the part of a casual late Saturday afternoon. Even Reece’s outfit matched the setting flawlessly.
Curtis groaned. “Looks like Dad got a hold of your date.”
Reece shot Curtis and Lissette’s father a lively grin, and Vin stiffened. In the harsh afternoon sunlight, he saw Reece with crystal clarity. She wasn’t issuing polite smiles or fake greetings. Her gestures were animated, her posture relaxed. This was her element. These were her people.
She looked over, caught him staring, and waved.
Bordering on rudeness, he grabbed their drinks, nodded at Curtis, and beelined his way to Reece.
Thom Larson’s smile faded as he glanced up and noticed Vin approaching, but to give the man credit, he also gestured toward the two drinks in Vin’s hand and said, “Vincent. Thanks for coming to Lissette’s opening. I should probably excuse myself to find her.”
Unable to shake his hand, Vin nodded. “Thom, sir. Good to see you.”
Thom placed a hand on Reece’s shoulder. “Happy birthday, sweetie. You let me know when you’re heading up the foundation.”
“I will.” Reece touched the man’s arm before he strode away, but Vin didn’t miss the wince at his parting words about the foundation. He’d return to that later. It was the first part that caught his attention.
He handed her the champagne. “It’s your birthday?”
“It’s my birthday,” she confirmed. Then, in a very un-Reece move, she drained her flute in three fluid swallows and slid her tongue over her top lip. “Not as tasty as”—she flicked her gaze to his pants and then back to his face—“you, but I guess it will have to do until you get me on that boat.”
She bit her lower lip, and he lost it.
To hell with the gallery. He hadn’t known it was her birthday, but he planned to fuck the little bit of sadness out of her expression, and he’d find out later what caused it.
“Boat’s this way.” He nodded in the direction of the water.
Her eyes lit with excitement, and he steered her toward the exit. She wanted sex on a boat, and right then, the only thing that mattered to him was giving her what she wanted. He scoffed at himself, a slight bitterness tinged with desire. No wonder she walked around like she owned the world. She did. He couldn’t think of a single guy who would deny her wh
atever she wanted, and he was no different.
That ugly thought didn’t stop him from leading her down the cobblestones toward the marina. As the noise from the shops faded behind them, he all but hauled her down the dock and onto his McConaghy 50 multihull catamaran. They barely made it inside before he pressed his mouth on hers. He moved his hands into her hair and wrapped the ends around his fist, drawing her head back and exposing her neck. When Reece clawed at the hem of his polo and dragged it over his head, he released her enough to slip the offending fabric off his body. Hers came off in one swift motion. Then his mouth was on her again, on her lips, her neck…lower.
He growled as he shoved the bra straps over her shoulders and down to her waist, exposing her breasts as they rose and fell with her ragged breathing. Pure skin, pebbled nipples.
“God,” he whispered. The first time had been about giving her pleasure, and this time would be no different. Except he planned to take his sweet time, so he needed to slow the fuck down.
“Vin?” Her look held confusion as to why he’d stopped, and in her midnight eyes, he also saw a vulnerability that wrecked him.
This woman knew nothing about what he could do to her. How he could make her scream. How he could leave his mark on her. Both times before had been rushed. She’d been satisfied; he’d been sure of that. But this time would be different.
This time she would whimper and beg for her pleasure.
…
Vin’s feral look shifted to scheming, and Reece held her breath.
“The sun’s still out,” he said.
“Yes,” she agreed, glancing at the open window and raising her hands to cover her breasts.
“Uh-uh.” He shook his head and lowered her arms, rubbing a thumb over one nipple and then the other. “Beautiful.”
He made her feel beautiful. “I don’t think getting caught will help your reputation.”
“Come with me.” He reached out and led her to the stairs, guiding her in front of him and cupping her ass as she climbed up first.
The king-sized bed took up most of one room, but Vin angled her to the left, into a seating area with a sofa and a desk. The dining table from hours before rushed through her mind, and with an unfamiliar brazenness, she wiggled out of the rest of her clothes and pressed down on the desk, pretending to test it.
Reforming the CEO (South Beach) Page 9