by J. S. Scott
Just when she was ready to scream with frustrated need, he started to grind his groin mercilessly against hers with every deep penetration of his cock, stimulating her sensitive clit. A scream ripped from her throat as she shattered. He swallowed it with his mouth, his groan vibrating in her mouth as her channel pulsated around his silken cock.
He panted harshly as his mouth moved to her shoulder. “Nothing better than feeling you come around me.” He buried his shaft deep, connecting their bodies tightly, fusing them together.
Still quivering from her explosive climax, she felt his muscles tighten and his big body tremble as he flooded her womb with scorching heat.
I love you.
Her eyes moist, she tightened her arms around him, never wanting to let go. Emotion welled up inside her, ruthlessly fighting to be freed. She choked it back with an audible gasp, grappling with the overwhelming need to say those words aloud.
“You okay?” he questioned breathlessly and with gruff concern.
He rolled to one side and she mourned the loss as she loosened her hold on him, reluctantly allowing him to rest beside her. “I’m fine.” He had obviously thought he was crushing her. Like she was a delicate flower? She was taller than some men, even in her bare feet. Simon was the only one who could make her actually feel petite.
She sighed as he hoisted her easily into his arms, pulling her against his side as he tucked the covers over their entangled bodies. She burrowed into him, her head on his shoulder and one arm flung over his mammoth chest. His muscular arm pulled her closer with a firm grasp around her waist.
“We made love,” he grumbled, his voice weary.
Smiling slightly at his disgruntled announcement, she simply answered, “Yes.”
Making love wasn’t about the mechanics; it was all about emotion, although she had to admit that he was pretty damn incredible with the mechanical portion of the act. It didn’t matter how they touched or in what way they came together; it was the emotion and the intensity of the experience that got her. The truth was, the sex tonight had been no different than anything that had happened between them before. It had been just as explosive, just as emotional, and just as earth-shattering. The man rocked her entire world every single time. And it was never indifferent or detached. It had been wild, passionate, intense love-making every single time. At least, for her it had been.
I wish he could trust me.
The deep, steady cadence of his breathing told her that he slept.
Small steps.
Simon didn’t sleep with anyone, didn’t allow himself to be in the same bed with another person when he was vulnerable. The fact that he was sleeping with her plastered against him was bigger than a step; it was more like a huge stride.
Moving a little to get comfortable, her heart flipped over when he grumbled an incoherent protest and yanked her back against him.
Yep. They would need to have a talk about his trust issues tomorrow. She needed to know something about what happened to him, why he had reacted the way he had earlier. It wasn’t possible to combat a ghost she couldn’t see, couldn’t understand.
Never again did she want to see Simon in the grip of panic, lost in an unknown fear. His vulnerability had nearly ripped her heart out.
A fierce protective instinct flowed over her as her eyes fluttered closed, completely spent and exhausted.
He’ll dodge and be evasive. He won’t want to talk about it.
If he wasn’t ready...well...she’d wait until he trusted her enough to discuss it.
Satisfied that things would work out fine, she yawned against Simon’s shoulder until her breathing matched his, deep and even, and fell into a dreamless, contented sleep.
Three days later, Simon scrawled his signature on the last of a stack of mile-high documents that his secretary had dropped on his desk earlier that morning. Slamming the gold pen on the top of the pile with more force than was necessary, he leaned back in his enormous leather chair with a frustrated sigh, wondering how many more days he could take of the tension between him and Kara.
No sex. No touching. No waking up in the morning with her delectable body wrapped around mine like a silken blanket.
God, that morning three days ago had started off as the best morning of his life.
Unfortunately, what happened at breakfast also had it ranking right up there with one of the worst.
She had wanted to talk about the night before.
He didn’t.
Oh, he had been more than willing to talk about and repeat what had happened after his freak-out. The actual panic attack?...not so much.
Raking his hand through his hair, he leaned back and tried to relax his body, admitting to himself that the distance between the two of them really wasn’t really her fault. Much. She had taken his unwillingness to discuss it gracefully, giving him one of her sweet smiles and telling him that she would wait until he was ready. But then...just when he was thinking she might end up waiting until she was old and gray before he wanted to discuss it...she dropped the bomb.
I can’t make love with you, Simon. Not until you trust me enough to tell me what happened. I just can’t.
Then, after turning his world upside down with that comment, she had kissed him on the forehead like he was a child, wished him a good day, and sashayed her sweet little ass out the door. And she had done it all with a smile. What. The. Hell.
To her credit, she hadn’t been a bitch to him, hadn’t raised her voice or thrown a tantrum. Shit, he wished she would. Maybe he could generate a lot more anger at her to help him through his current torment.
The only thing that really pissed him off was the fact that he did trust her. He just didn’t want to talk about that.
“You look like a man who’s ready to attend his own execution. What’s the matter, little brother? Getting tired of Kara? ’Cause if you are I would gladly-”
“Touch her and you die.” Fists clenched on the desk in front of him, Simon leaned forward, the threat of fratricide on his face, as he watched his brother saunter across his office. “Don’t you fucking knock?” He knew Sam was goading him about Kara, trying to push his buttons. In reality, his brother would never come near her again. Sam had made that perfectly clear to Simon when he had apologized for his behavior at the party. However, it didn’t stop Sam from trying to irritate the hell out of him.
Sam shot him a cocky grin as he dropped into a chair in front of Simon’s desk. “Why would I? I own the company.”
Simon decided that the only thing worse than owning Hudson with Sam was the fact that they had both had an office on the same floor. “Last time I checked, so did I,” he snapped back at Sam, not in the mood for his older sibling’s bullshit.
“I’m older. It gives me seniority.” Sam propped his Italian leather-clad feet casually on Simon’s desk.
Simon waited, watching his brother relax back into the chair. The bastard. Leaning forward, Simon swept one muscular arm across the desk, knocking Sam’s feet into the air. “Get your damn feet off my desk!”
Really, was there anything more amusing than watching a man in an immaculate designer suit flailing his arms like a baby bird, trying to catch his balance before his chair flipped over? Simon didn’t think so. Not when it was Sam fluttering his arms while his chair tilted. The only thing that would have made it better was if his brother had tipped the chair over and landed flat on his ass.
Sam’s feet found purchase on the floor. He glared at Simon as he opened the buttons on the jacket of his perfectly tailored suit and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Was that really necessary?”
It was Simon’s turn to grin, his smile evil. “I thought so.”
“It’s not my fault that you made the mistake of falling in love and now you’re miserable. Shit, I thought you’d be happy now that she’s living at your place again.” Sam sat back and la
ced his fingers over his stomach, his expression grim.
Simon’s head jerked up. “Who said I love her?”
Rolling his eyes, Sam replied, “You didn’t have to say a damn thing. I think I figured it out when I ended up practically blind from the swelling when you beat the hell out of me just because I touched her.”
“That doesn’t mean I love her,” Simon grunted. “And it wasn’t because you touched her. It was the intent.”
“When was the last time you thrashed me because I touched a woman?”
“Never.”
“Exactly.”
Simon sighed. “Kara and I had a slight disagreement.” Okay, for him, it was more than slight, but he didn’t mention that to his brother.
“About?”
“She wants me to trust her. Tell her about the incident that left me scarred.” Simon’s voice was hoarse. “She thinks I still have”-he hesitated before choking out-“issues.”
Eyes narrowing, Sam asked, “And do you? Still have issues?”
“No! Hell no! For Christ’s sake, it happened over sixteen years ago,” Simon answered quickly. Too quickly and too defensively.
“Time doesn’t necessarily make everything go away, Simon,” Sam answered thoughtfully. “Maybe you should just tell her. Maybe you need to. Is your silence really worth losing her? She obviously loves you, and whether you want to admit it or not, you love her too. Guess you just need to decide if she’s worth it.” Sam leaned forward, spearing Simon with a sharp glance. “Don’t fuck up. You’ll regret it for the rest of your life if you do.”
Pain? Regret? Sorrow? For a fleeting moment, Simon could see every one of those emotions reflected in his brother’s eyes. By the time he took a deep breath and opened his mouth to ask his elder brother about it, Sam’s expression had turned indifferent and apathetic. Simon snapped his jaw closed, recognizing the look on Sam’s face, the unequivocal signal that meant his sibling didn’t want to talk about it.
“She’s being unreasonable,” Simon grumbled, returning his attention to his current problem. He wouldn’t push Sam to share his pain if his brother didn’t want to.
“Admit it. You love her.” Sam crossed his arms and shot Simon a knowing look.
“She’s stubborn.”
“You love her.”
“I trust her. I tell her everything else.”
“You love her.”
“Fuck!” Simon slammed his fist down on the desk so hard that the solid oak shook on its foundations. “She makes me crazy. She makes me happy. I think she’s so beautiful that I want to just sit and look at her for hours. One minute, I’m perfectly sane, and the next, I’m totally losing it. She couldn’t give a shit less about the fact that I’m rich, and I think the woman is blind because I swear she doesn’t even notice that I’m scarred. The way she looks at me sometimes makes me feel like I’m ten feet tall. And she’s looking at me. Not the billionaire, not the wealthy executive. Just the man. She can be as stubborn as a damn mule, but I even like that because she’s determined. Smart. Kind. And she puts up with my cranky ass, accepts me exactly as I am.” Breathless from his tirade, Simon sucked in a trembling, uneven gulp of air. He slumped forward, his anger spent. “So, yeah. If these wild, lunatic, possessive feelings for her that I have every fucking minute of every day are love...I’m screwed. I can’t even imagine having to live my life without her.” Voice vibrating with emotion, he looked up at his older brother, his expression tortured.
“Then don’t,” Sam answered simply, his brow lifting, meeting Simon’s questioning glance. “We built this company together. We started in a crappy, one-bedroom apartment, bro. Now we’re wealthy beyond our wildest dreams and a major player worldwide. If you can accomplish that, you can handle this.” Sam’s voice went from serious to teasing as he added, “Pull your head out of your ass and solve the problem.”
Simon’s lips curved up in a small smile. He hadn’t heard Sam say those words in years. It had been a frequent statement back in the days when they were still building Hudson. If one of them got stalled in the business by a roadblock, the other would deliver a swift kick to the rear with those exact words. It had become their mantra, but they hadn’t needed it in a very long time. They had plenty of employees who were paid very well to solve those problems before they ever got to Sam or him. “Sometimes I think that I’d rather rebuild a whole business than to have to deal with this.”
Sam shrugged. “Business is business. It’s not always easy, but the outcome is fairly predictable. Relationships are messy. You have no data, no statistics. Nothing to justify taking the leap, except for emotion.” Sam shuddered, as though the thought of jumping into a serious relationship was akin to torture.
“Then why in the hell are you telling me to do it?” Simon pierced his brother with an irritated glare.
“You need her.” Sam stood abruptly and buttoned his suit jacket. “But if you ever decide you don’t want her-”
“Don’t start!” Simon rumbled, his voice lacking venom. If he had realized anything today, it was the fact that his brother had his own secrets, a woman in his past-very likely Maddie, judging by Sam’s strange reaction to the curvy redhead-who still haunted him. He suspected that whoever she was, she was the reason that Sam went through women so fast, so unemotionally. Sam was trying to fill a void, trying to forget. Simon shook his head, knowing that his elder brother was smart enough to figure out eventually that it just wouldn’t work. If a woman got under your skin, she stayed there. Simon’s whole world revolved around Kara now, and no other woman could ever be a substitute, could ever fill the black, huge vacuum she would leave inside him if she ever walked away.
Sam’s charming smile was back. “You love me. You know you do.”
“Not right now,” Simon answered automatically.
Sam swaggered to the door, not a hair out of place, his suit and tie undisturbed. No one would ever know that he had just watched his younger brother practically have a nervous breakdown before his eyes.
Sam placed his hand on Simon’s door. Before he could exit, Simon called after him in a husky voice. “Sam?”
Sam turned back with a quizzical expression. “Yeah?”
“Thanks for listening.”
The look that passed between them spoke volumes. Simon wanted to tell his brother how much he cared, but a lump formed in his throat. They sparred like brothers often did, but Sam had sacrificed a lot for Simon and his mother. Worked his ass into the ground for all these years.
“Nobody deserves happiness more than you, little brother. It’s within your grasp. Take it,” Sam answered, his voice full of brotherly support, as he exited without another word.
Blowing out a shaky breath, Simon stood and grabbed his briefcase, looking around the plush, executive office. Other than his desk and chair, everything was decorated in art deco, a design that he really didn’t like. How in the hell had that happened?
The office had been done years ago, but he’d never really noticed, never really cared.
Maybe because you told the decorator to do whatever she wanted.
Yeah, that’s exactly what he had done years ago. He couldn’t have cared less what decor the interior designer chose. He came to work, took care of business, and retreated back to his condo so he could immediately bury himself in his lab at home. Maybe he grunted a greeting to his secretary and personal assistant when he arrived and departed from the high-rise building every weekday morning. Or maybe not. He was usually so hyper-focused on work, so enclosed in that bubble, that he didn’t even remember.
He jerked at the knot in his expensive burgundy tie to loosen it and undid the top button of his shirt. Christ, how he hated wearing a suit.
Careful with the tie. It’s one of Kara’s favorites.
Actually, that might not be true. He wasn’t exactly certain that she had a favorite. She told him every morning how han
dsome he looked when he arrived in the kitchen, dressed for work in a business suit and tie. But the very first time she had told him that, he had been wearing this tie. Since that day, he found himself reaching for this particular tie pretty damn often on his workdays.
He snorted softly as he walked toward the door of his office, his stride nearly silent on the plush carpet. Christ, he was going off the deep end.
When had he started caring which tie he wore, how his office was decorated, whether or not he was cordial to his employees every day?
It was definitely time to go home.
Home. Kara makes me think of the condo as home. Her laughter. Her voice. Her smell. Her very presence makes it home, and not just a place where I go when I’m done in the office.
He exited the office, letting the door close softly behind him. He glanced at Nina’s desk, halting abruptly in front of it.
“You need something, boss?” Her tone was professional, but she had a genuine smile on her face.
He looked over the top of an abundant bouquet of roses that was placed prominently on her desk, frowning at his gray-haired assistant. Had he forgotten her birthday? No. No, he hadn’t. Nina’s birthday was in September. And his secretary, Marcie, always reminded him. “Nice flowers. What’s the occasion?” he asked curiously.
Nina gave him a puzzled look, peering at him over her reading glasses. “Boss, it’s February fourteenth. Valentine’s Day. You know...hearts, flowers, romance.” The little woman’s smile broadened. “My Ralph has sent me two dozen red roses every Valentine’s Day for thirty-seven years.” She sighed. “He’s still so romantic.” Her voice vibrated with affection and adoration.
Valentine’s Day? Yeah, he knew the holiday; he had just never paid any attention when it came and went every year. It was just another day, a twenty-four-hour period of time when he saw a lot of Cupids and red hearts-when he chose to notice them, which wasn’t very often.