by Nicole Snow
We’re sitting on a chaise on the upper deck. She’s staring at Chicago just as the summer lights come on, a sight I’ve seen countless times.
I’m far more intrigued with the blond Persephone in front of me, forever enchanted by soft summer evenings and kissed by a lake breeze that makes me jealous. I loop an arm around her waist, not caring how possessive it seems.
I don’t even think about it anymore.
It’s just normal to have her delicate body in my grasp.
She relaxes her back into me. My body stiffens at her closeness, her heat, her promise of everything I desperately need.
“You’re tense. What’s wrong, Ward?” She leans her head back and smiles.
Everything.
Mainly, this urge to peel that corset off and replace it with my mouth, and then keep inching her dress down with my teeth.
“I’m fine,” I strangle out.
Fuck. My voice is an autumn rasp.
She twines her fingers through mine, my hand resting on her waist. “If you aren’t, you can tell me.”
“I know.” The words come out low.
“So? What is it?”
She’s too good at reading me.
Her soft fingertips draw circles over my hand and then dance up my arm.
I tighten my grip around her, pulling her closer, a move that only makes things worse. Her ass cheeks press against the tip of the hard line in my slacks.
The smart thing to do—the easy thing—would be to jump up and run, but I’m so drunk on this woman I can’t move.
“It’s good news, actually,” I say. “Winthrope’s sold. We’ll have the contract signed and delivered this weekend.”
She lets go of my hand and turns sideways on the chaise so we’re face-to-face. Her eyes are wide, a forest fire with the last of the dying sun. She grins so deep small dimples show, adorable dents I never noticed before.
“Holy—that’s freaking awesome! Why aren’t you popping champagne?” She elbows me playfully.
“I am. I was just thinking.”
“Ward, you’re brooding. What now?”
Just like that, I realize how screwed I am.
I can’t hide shit from this girl.
“We never got a chance to celebrate,” I say coldly.
“We will, silly. The whole office is going to freak when they find out.” Her smile reaches down inside me and lights my darkest lamp.
“No, I mean, we never got a chance to celebrate our engagement.” I swallow, catching her eyes as they dip in confusion. “Paige, we never got to celebrate like this.”
I pull her into my lap, wishing my body was less aroused by her nearness.
I want this to be sweet. Special. Spontaneous.
Goddamn. What have I turned into?
I’m still wondering as I cup her chin with my hand, but it doesn’t matter.
I’m not backing down. My finger caresses her cheek, and I inch her lips toward mine.
Nice and slow. A hungry, cherished offering.
She has plenty of time to pull away, but we’re alone up here with the entire city watching, the moon rising like this terrible signal God put there to scream, shut up and kiss her, you dolt.
And Paige doesn’t hesitate.
She sighs and whispers my name just before our lips collide in sticky rapture.
Her eyelids flutter shut, her taste undoes me, and I’m too high on this girl to stop for anything short of a brick to the head.
My tongue slides across her lips, so eager to feel her. She opens her mouth and strokes my tongue with hers, inviting me in like prey.
Her hands cradle my face, then pull with an energy that lets me know exactly how bad she wants this.
How much we’ve both been in grim denial for so long.
I slide one arm firmly around her and cover the hand on my face with my other palm.
The circles I trace over her tongue, the back of her lip, taste like a litany of sin. Every frenzied whimper slipping out of her is a one-way trip to hell become heaven.
“Oh—Ward!” she moans into my mouth.
God. If she sounds like this just kissing her, what the hell sounds will she make when I take her? When I’m finally in her?
I will be soon.
Maybe not tonight, but before this is over, I’ll claim her from the inside out.
Her hands leave my face, her blond hair a mess from my roaming fingers. Her arms lock behind my neck, and she shudders in my arms with a ragged moan.
“Paige,” I snarl her name half a second before I rake my teeth against her bottom lip.
“Oh,” she breathes, too deep in it to speak.
She moves to her knees, lifting up, straddling my waist.
Holy fuck.
I’ve got to get this situation under control, or our first time’s going to happen on the upper deck of my VIP client’s boat.
It can’t be here, not like this, even if my dick damn near turns into a blue fist and shakes at me.
Breaking our kiss, I rearrange her in my lap so she’s not straddling me anymore.
Startled green eyes connect with mine. Her face goes rosy and then crimson. “Oh, shit. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”
She’s sorry?
Grinning, I shake my head and press my lips to her forehead.
“Stop. You’ve got nothing to apologize for.”
“I—I thought you wanted—” She sucks in a breath, face redder than Winthrope’s cartoon suit, tripping all over her words. “I mean, I thought you liked—”
“Paige. I practically mauled you and thoroughly enjoyed it. There’s no confusion here,” I growl.
“Then why—”
“It isn’t obvious?” I cup her face and devour her lips again, but I don’t dare linger. “The Winthropes could barge in any time. It’s their boat and we’re about to dock.” I pick up a strand of her hair, threading it through my fingers. “It’s gonna happen and it’ll be every bit as fuck-hot as you imagine—just not here. Not yet. Tonight,” I growl.
Her blush deepens, and I chuckle.
“Oh, right. Because I’m not the kind of girl who’d want to—er—because I’m not hot enough to—”
Because you’re the kind of girl I’ll need more than one time with, I think instantly.
I hush her with a finger pressed to her lips.
No way am I saying that last thought out loud, but I also can’t let this beautiful woman think she’s somehow not enough.
“I’ve never left any project unfinished. I just make sure I have time to complete them thoroughly, with all the details and attention they deserve,” I whisper.
Paige relaxes into me, tightens her hold on my arm, and giggles softly.
Fuck.
“You have a cute laugh.” I close my arms around her.
The boat comes to a stop.
“I think we’ve docked. We should say our goodbyes to the Winthropes. Reese is probably here.” I stand and hold out my hand.
She nods and uses my grip to pull herself up. “Oof. My legs are jello.”
“Because we kissed?”
“Because of how we kissed.”
Yeah. We’re saying our goodbyes and getting the hell off this ship. We walk down the staircase hand in hand.
Winthrope leans against the rail of the deck with a fresh cigar, blowing out a contrail of smoke. It’s a miracle he’s lived this long.
His wife sits in a lounge chair, working at her cross stitch.
“Did you enjoy the view up there?” Winthrope winks at me.
“Absolutely. It’s a fine ship made for sunset cruises. Thank you for inviting us.”
“Care to come back to the hotel for a drink?” he asks.
Any other time, I’d love to. I could get the contract signed before I leave, even, but I have plans. I look at Paige and then Winthrope. “It’s getting late. I need to get her home. Early bedtime.”
Paige tenses and shoots me a wicked look.
Ross Winthrope nods firmly
, the joke clearly lost on him. Supposedly, he and his wife sleep in sensory deprivation tanks several times a week...or else the Roland Ospreys of the world always pull rumors out of their asses, which is more than possible.
Mrs. Winthrope stands and hands Paige the cross stitch she’s been working on. “Here, why don’t you take this. You caught on right away. A lot of girls your age don’t. You can finish it for me. It’s a ring-billed gull, just like the kind we saw at sunset.”
“Thanks!” Paige says sincerely. “I’ll give it back to you the next time we meet.”
“No, sweetheart. Put it up in the first house you live in as a married couple. You need all the luck you can get when you’re first starting out.” She winks at her husband and throws her arms around him.
Whatever sort of weird they are, they’re madly in love after all these years, and that’s worth a smile.
The sun disappears when we disembark a few minutes later, but the deck remains just well enough lit for me to make out the words in the stitching.
“Home Is Where The Heart Is,” I whisper to myself.
Those words are a punch to the gut.
“Thank you again,” Paige says with a wave.
Her warm smile makes it impossible to dwell on the beatdown by embroidery.
“Thanks again for inviting us,” I say over my shoulder.
“After what a pompous ass I was, it’s the least I could do. I hope we’ll do it again,” Winthrope says.
“We’d love to,” I say.
I take Paige’s hand and lead her off the boat to dry land. The car waits, but Paige stops me before we get to it. The smile she wears disappears and she sobers up.
“So if Winthrope’s ready to sign...what does that mean for us?”
I draw in a fortifying breath.
“Victory. Plus, we hate each other a little less now. No complaints if it makes finishing our job easier.” I scoop her up and carry her to the car, opening the door with one hand.
Reese turns to glance in the back seat as I’m setting Paige down. “Looks like you two had fun tonight! And it’s nice to see you smile, bossman. You should do it more often.”
I can only manage a few lines of small talk.
Then I raise the screen between us and lock it so it can’t come down again, sliding in beside the woman who’s still mine, ninety-day contracts be damned.
19
The Art of Floating (Paige)
“Where were we?” Ward slides his hand between my back and the seat, drawing me closer, and closer still to delirium.
I’m barely in the car when I’m airborne.
Molten eyes like sea glass peer into me. Mint washes over me. I swear he’s bigger than the entire universe.
I sigh. “What do you mean?”
He strokes his hand through my hair, each pull of his fingers an X-rated promise.
“I just sat on a chaise with the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, and I had to leave a project unfinished. Need I go on?”
Oh, God.
I press my forehead to his cheek, loving how his stubble burns my skin.
“Not sure. You’ll have to remind me,” I whisper.
“Have it your way, Paige Holly.” He slides two fingers under my chin, the better to find my lips.
He traces them like a treasure map, this hunter putting Orion to shame, before taking my bottom lip in his mouth and sucking. Hard.
My arms fuse around him, mewling his name—I didn’t know I could mewl.
“Ward.”
He pulls away from me and takes a harsh breath.
“Woman, you have no earthly idea what I want to do to you every time you make that sound,” he says.
“Teach me,” I breathe, finding his lips again with a nip of my teeth that drives him wild.
Our faces brush. Our tongues tangle. Our souls meet.
When he pulls away again, it’s so he can kiss my chin before diving down my neck. I knot my fingers in his thick, dark hair. He moves from the base of my throat, sweeping down to where my cleavage bubbles over my corset.
Holy, holy hell.
Rough lips tease the top of my breast, then open in a searching bloom of his tongue.
He lingers there, open mouth pressed against me, painting me with heat. I feel him draw something on my skin with his tongue.
A heart?
Dear God.
“Oh, you Wardhole,” I whimper, ready to be destroyed by a man I used to hate.
He picks me up like I’m weightless.
I’m completely in his lap now, fastened to him by his arms and roaming kisses.
His mouth attacks mine with a low, threatening growl. His hand cups my ankle, then slides further up, probing under the silk gauze of my skirt. Calloused fingertips graze my calf, ending me a hundred times over.
Our kiss only ends with my rough giggle when his finger skims behind my thigh.
He grins like the sex-god I know he is, continuing to draw circles on the back of my knee.
I laugh harder, kicking my leg. “Stop.”
“You’re ticklish.”
I kick my leg again, trying to rid myself of feathery fingers that tease too well.
“Am not!” I’ve gone from a girlish giggle to a full belly laugh.
Are belly laughs sexy?
His lips touch my forehead in answer. “Any other sensitive spots I should know about, Paige?”
“Find them on your own.”
Still laughing, I try wriggling away from him.
Open invitation.
Bad, bad move.
His grip tightens as his hot breath falls in waves against my neck. His finger moves from the bend of my knee, climbing up my thigh.
“Careful. We’re still in a moving car and that sounded like a challenge. What else am I going to find out about my Not Fiancée?”
I’m boneless, melting against his chest.
His soft touch moves to my inner thigh and continues climbing with wicked intent. My legs tremble, and he’s still only barely touching my thigh.
Instant doom.
His fingers keep moving until he finds the crease between my leg and pelvis. He traces that line, marauding across my panties, eyes like two storming suns cast in emerald-cobalt.
“W-Ward,” I stammer, scared I’m about to spontaneously combust.
And I just might because now he’s on a mission.
His hand moves to the elastic of my panties and his finger slides over it. He traces the curve of my body until he finds my opening.
Then his fingers curl. A fierce knuckle drags back and forth, owning my pussy until napalm pools in the scathing spot where our skin touches.
I throw my arms around him and try not to scream.
Ward’s finger shifts up like the smirk on his lips. He finds my pearl, rubbing in laps determined to cause my obliteration.
No freaking words.
My hold on him tightens and a howl of pleasure sticks in my throat. My nails claw at the back of his neck as my legs quiver.
“Oh—oh God! There,” I whisper.
The hot glint in his eye deepens as that shadow of his smile lands on my lips.
His tongue invades me the way I wish other parts would—he’s so not playing now—the pressure of his finger is too freaking much.
Before I can stop, I gasp into his mouth.
I swear, if we weren’t in the car, I’d rip his pants open and mount him right here.
But his kisses are slow and passionate, sweet and diabolic.
He’s not frantic like me, en route to the hottest shrieking O of my life. He’s a human ice dam with arms and legs and evil lips.
Shamelessly, I move a hand to his arm and press on his hand, keeping it between my legs.
His lip curls, showing teeth, when his finger dips inside me.
Our kiss goes nova, his growl and my moan joined in unholy matrimony.
So much for fake.
So much for my body, heart, and soul.
I move to my knee
s, trying to remember how to breathe.
His fingers delve in and out of me with an intensity that matches the hunger of my kiss. Every time my tongue gives chase, his reminds me who’s in charge with these hot flicks timed oh-so-perfectly.
Seriously.
This man’s touch has stopped time.
The car no longer moves. The only things that exist are our faces pressed together in a carnival of caresses, and the ground zero blaze where his hand joins my body, pushing into me with a thrust that claims.
A horn bleets, but it’s somewhere else. Someone else’s problem.
Ward’s mouth doesn’t leave mine, and if he’s not bothered by the noise, then—
BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!
Yikes. Never mind.
It blares so loud it’s like it’s coming from inside the car.
I hope Reese hasn’t put the divider down. I jerk away from Ward, gasping. I move too hard, too fast, and I’m about to tumble to the floor. Firm hands pull me back to the seat a second before someone beats on the passenger window. I try to peek out the tinted window, but it’s so dark it’s no use.
“Sorry, sweetheart,” Ward says with a sigh.
He stabs at the button to lower the window.
“We’ve been stopped for ten minutes! People are honking at me like crazy. I, um, I got a parking ticket, boss. I tried to honk to wake you guys up, but—”
“I’ll pay the ticket, Reese. Just get back behind the wheel and have a safe trip home.” Ward swings his car door open and steps out. He helps me out and then scoops me up in his arms again.
I try to forget our make out session stopped freaking traffic.
“Careful. A girl could get used to this,” I say, dragging my finger up his jaw, loving the scrape of his beard.
He leans down and brushes my lips with his.
“Maybe you should,” he says.
He carries me past the doorman, through the glass doors, and to the elevator.
Yeah, I can’t take it anymore.
I find his mouth, trace his lips with my tongue, and when he opens, the kiss overflows with a passion deluge.
He carries me to the penthouse and shepherds us through the door, only breaking the kiss once or twice for air before he sets me down.
My hands move to his shoulders and slide under his jacket. I take it off and let it drop on the floor in a rumpled mess.