by Lexi C. Foss
“Wow,” I breathed.
A chuckle had me glancing left to find Will leaning against a marble counter, arms crossed. He glanced at his watch and tsked. “Fourteen minutes of rest is not going to help your ankle.”
“That was only fourteen minutes?” Shit. It felt like closer to an hour. I did not do idle well.
“Thirteen and some change, to be precise.” He pushed away from the mahogany cabinets and crooked a finger at me. “You can sit at the table while I finish dinner.”
“I’d rather sit outside,” I admitted, surprising myself. Bugs and nature were not my thing, but the lounge chair on his deck appealed to me, as did the small pool beyond it. I didn’t wait for him to agree, just ambled over to a set of glass doors and slipped outside with the ice still in my hand.
“Oh yeah,” I murmured as I folded myself into the cushioned chaise outside. I placed the ice on my ankle and sighed in contentment, only to jolt upright when warm fingers wrapped around my calf. “What are . . . ?” He lifted it with ease and settled a pillow he’d procured from God knew where beneath my heel. The reproach in his gaze did not go unnoticed, but he said nothing as he returned to the house.
Our dynamic seemed to be shifting to a new phase that combined flirtation, professionalism, and something other. He wasn’t admitting his attraction, but he wasn’t necessarily hiding it either. Instead, he left it out there like an open door inviting me to enter at my own risk. I sensed myself faltering just outside, lingering and waiting for the inevitable desire to run in the opposite direction, but it never came. On the contrary, the only pull I felt was the one drawing me closer, enticing me to take a chance and see what Will had to offer. Which was ludicrous because I knew what to expect—fantastic sex, followed by awkwardness as we continued to work together on the merger.
Or maybe the sexual affair could last for the duration of the project . . .
My hormones piqued at the thought. Pleasure without remorse, and since it would happen away from Chicago, Ryan would never know.
“Do you want to eat out there?” Will called from inside the house. He’d left the door open, something I noticed was also the case upstairs on the balcony. The air in the mountains was cooler than I expected for North Carolina but was still warm enough to warrant the abundance of fans decorating each room of his home. There were also a few built into the ceiling covering his deck, including the one directly over my head.
“I definitely want to stay outside,” I replied. Eyeing the glistening water a few yards away made me regret not packing a swimsuit. Stones decorated the edges, giving it a lagoon-style appeal that seemed to invite sunbathing. I would float in the center with a book and a margarita and wish to never leave.
“Bon appétit,” Will murmured as he sauntered outside with a tray.
I eyed the offerings with trepidation, but I needn’t have worried. “Stir-fry. Nice.” I accepted the food with a grin. “Thank you.” He even gave me chopsticks and paired it with a glass of wine. This was much better than a motel down the street.
He joined me a minute later with his own tray and kicked back in the opposite chaise under his own fan. We ate in companionable silence, my foot resting on the pillow and my stomach rolling in contentment.
“You know, I think this is the first Mershano white I’ve tried.” I savored the fruity notes on my tongue and licked my lips. “Which one is this?”
“It’s a Pinot Grigio with apple notes from one of the South Carolina vineyards.” He deftly plucked a piece of chicken from his plate and popped it into his mouth—such a subtle thing that he somehow managed to sexualize. Or maybe that was just my hormones talking.
I focused on my plate and enjoyed the sautéed zucchini. “So you can cook,” I finally conceded after several more delicious bites. “Like, you can really cook.” Because this meal was restaurant quality, maybe even better.
“I considered opening a wine bar and restaurant about a decade ago but decided preparing food for customers wasn’t really my passion. I much prefer dividing my time between the vineyards and business tasks. But I still enjoy cooking for myself.”
At first, I thought he was joking. But nothing about his expression or tone suggested humor, just fact. “Well, my stomach thanks you for the experience.”
He raised his glass in a mock salute. “Cheers.”
I lifted mine in response and took another savory sip. “I’m almost glad I lost earlier, Mershano. Not so much about the ankle, but I could get used to living like this for a week.”
An emotion teased the edge of his lips, but it disappeared too quickly for me to catch. He stood a few minutes later and glanced at my tray. “Done?”
“Yeah, but I can—”
“Your only job right now is to rest that ankle,” he stated, effectively cutting my offer to help clean the dishes.
“Bossy,” I accused with a roll of my eyes.
“You have no idea.” Wickedness touched his gaze as he tugged the tray away from me. “I’d tell you to stay put, but we both know how you’ll respond to that.”
I grinned. “You’re learning.”
“Oh, we’re just gettin’ started, darlin’,” he drawled. “I’ll be back in a minute to take you to bed.”
12
A Taste of Luxury
Will’s words after dinner last night left me hot and bothered for hours, just as he likely intended. His version of taking me to bed meant showing me to my room, which happened to be right next to his suite.
“I noticed you admiring the balcony in my room earlier, so I thought you might like this room. It shares the same space outside, just through those doors over there.” He’d pointed them out last night, and I’d stupidly slept with them open thinking he meant to come through them later. Nope. Didn’t happen.
I scowled at the curtains blowing with the morning air. It soothed my overheated cheeks but did nothing to calm my racing pulse. Visions of Will sneaking into my room for a midnight rendezvous kept me tossing and turning until the early hours, and when sleep finally visited me, it was in the form of dreams that left me panting. The cold shower I took thirty minutes ago did nothing. My pencil skirt felt oddly suffocating, as did my blue blouse. I wore these clothes every day, yet all I wanted was to rip the offending fabric from my body.
With an irritated huff, I stepped out onto the balcony, hoping the cool air would help soothe my aroused skin. Closing my eyes, I leaned against the railing and inhaled the crisp morning scent. Sweet and clean, with a hint of spice. The latter I associated with my sensual torturer. I glanced toward his open doors and gasped.
Oh, of all things holy . . .
Will sat lounging on a chaise, reading the newspaper, in nothing but a pair of black boxer briefs. Ripples of tanned muscles assaulted my senses, leaving me momentarily brain-dead. Even though he was sitting down I could tell he had those little indentations right by the hip bone, and, oh, those thighs were mouthwateringly delicious. All strength and steel and happily on display for my viewing pleasure.
“Enjoying the view?” he asked, drawing my attention to his full lips. They curled into one of those seductive grins that were becoming impossible to ignore. My tongue thickened in my mouth, rendering speech impossible. All I could do was nod. Let him make of that what he wanted. He obviously knew I found him attractive. No point in denying it.
When he stood and stretched his long arms over his head, my head spun. Oh yeah, definitely had the full package. Those boxer briefs left nothing to the imagination. It took more effort than I thought possible to drag my eyes up to meet his as he strolled over to me on the balcony.
“Did you sleep well?” he asked, voice low and intimate.
My lips parted, but my vocal chords weren’t ready, so I closed my mouth. I had no idea where my dignity went, but surely it would return as soon as he put on some clothes. Maybe. He dragged his fingers through his artfully messy hair and flashed one dimple at me in the process. Those muscles flexed with each move, highlighting his power and
well-earned confidence.
“So this is you speechless?” he mused. “Mmm, I think I prefer the feisty Rachel more, but at least I know for future reference.” He took a step into my personal space, allowing the heat of his body to roll over my already too-hot skin. “For the record, I didn’t sleep well at all. Want to know why?”
I found myself nodding without thinking.
He lifted his hand to tuck one of my blonde strands behind my ear and lightly brushed the back of his knuckles down my neck to my collarbone, then back up. “It took considerable effort to stay in my room last night, more so than usual.” His palm slid to the back of my neck. “And seein’ you look at me like that right now, darlin’, won’t make tonight any easier.”
I shuddered as he brushed his lips against mine in the lightest of caresses. It wasn’t nearly hard enough, or long enough, and did not at all live up to my expectations of how he would kiss me the first time.
“You let me know when you want more,” he whispered, his nose briefly touching mine as he started to pull away. I grabbed his wrist, and he cocked a brow. “Yes?”
Words were still an issue, so I responded by closing the small gap between us and looping my arms around his neck. He didn’t hesitate. His mouth claimed mine in a kiss so carnal that I felt it down to my toes.
This was what I anticipated. All dominance, strength, and passion packed into a powerful meeting of tongues as he vied for control of my mouth. I moaned in response, unable to hold back the need brewing deep inside, and rubbed against him in the most inappropriate of ways.
His arm slipped around my back to hold me there as his thick arousal hardened against my lower belly. A tear leaked from the corner of my eye at the feel of it. I’d never wanted something, someone, so bad in my entire life. If his goal had been to undo all my hard-earned self-restraint, he’d done it, because I came apart in his arms. Whatever he wanted, I would do, so long as it meant a night in his bed.
He nipped my lower lip, eliciting a yelp from me, before plundering his tongue so deep that I forgot how to breathe. My knees threatened to buckle, which he must have sensed because his arm tightened around me as his opposite hand knotted in my hair and tilted my head to the angle he preferred. I held on to his shoulders, my fingers digging into the thick muscle there, as he took what he wanted.
My hips hit the balcony as his groin fought for purpose against my lower belly, or maybe that was me trying to find friction. The juncture between my legs throbbed with a need far more painful than my ankle last night, but my skirt kept me immobile. No matter what I did, I couldn’t get the right angle, and his chuckle told me he knew it, yet he did nothing to help me. When I went to fix the issue, I found both my wrists captured in one hand. He nipped my bottom lip, then traced it with his tongue.
“You’re not ready yet, darlin’,” he murmured.
I opened my mouth to protest that theory and was silenced by another deep kiss. By the time he pulled back, I couldn’t remember my own name.
“Mmm, I do love that look on you, Rachel.” He nuzzled my neck and licked a path up to my ear. “But you’re not coming to my bed until you agree to stay there. For good.” His teeth scraped over my jaw as he nibbled his way to my mouth for one final mind-destroying kiss. “I’m going to take a long, very hot shower,” he murmured. “I’ll meet you downstairs in an hour to go over the Francis proposal.”
I grabbed the balcony to steady myself as he walked away without a care in the world. If I thought his ass looked fine in slacks, it looked sexier now in those very tight boxer briefs. Fuck. What the fuck was that? He kissed me like his life depended on it, just to saunter off with what I knew was one hell of a hard-on. Which he clearly planned to take care of in the shower. Alone. Or was that some screwed-up form of an invitation.
You’re not coming to my bed until you agree to stay there. Replaying his words in my head sent a shiver down my spine. For good. As in forever? He couldn’t possibly mean that. A man of his wealth and stature was destined for a life of bachelorhood, right? But despite the occasional flirtation, I’d yet to see any indication that he enjoyed playing the field.
I’d shamelessly researched him right along with his company and didn’t see any reports of his dating life, casual or otherwise, from the last few months. The most recent article I found was from a fundraiser last year where he brought a model. All the events from this year recorded him as a single attendee. I had tried not to think too hard about those dating-life clues, but coupled with his words, it was hard not to speculate.
I touched my swollen lips. Did he want more from me than just a few nights of pleasure? It seemed impossible, but he had gone to great lengths to secure me for this project. An elaborate ruse to date me, or because he respected my professional skills? Or both?
My clammy hands tightened on the railing. Short term I could give him, but long term would never happen. I might be able to hide from Ryan for a few weeks, months even, but beyond that? No. He’d come after me, and Will would suffer. My insane ex always found ways to take down the men in my life. He taught me that lesson early on, which was why I avoided dating.
I couldn’t let Ryan anywhere near Will. There was no telling what he would do, especially since Will presented a more significant threat than any of the previous men in my life. Because I actually liked him. A lot. Too much.
I brushed my sweaty palms against my skirt and squared my shoulders. Time to get my shit together, and I would start by throwing myself into work. That’s what I did best, and it would be to the benefit of this project. At least I could please Will in one way. Being a good lawyer would just have to be enough.
13
Pruning
No awkwardness.
No reaction.
No comments.
Nothing.
That summed up the last two days. It was business as usual between us, with the occasional heated glance and demand for me to elevate my foot. Oh, and freshly prepared dinners both nights. I tugged on the curtain beside my balcony door and frowned when I found it empty. Aside from the first morning here, he hadn’t greeted me outside. Always downstairs, fully dressed, with a cup of coffee. It seemed today would be the same.
It pissed me off despite it being for the best. But I wanted to know I affected him at least a little. He had me questioning his intentions all over again. Had I misunderstood his bed requirement? The one where he said I could only join him there when he knew I wouldn’t leave?
My head spun with possibilities that threatened to derail my composure as I walked down the stairs. The pain in my ankle had subsided substantially, telling me it wasn’t so much sprained as bruised.
“Mornin’.” Will greeted me with a cup of coffee fixed just the way I liked it and a plate loaded with eggs.
“This is new,” I remarked as I took one of the stools at the breakfast bar.
“You’re going to need more than a banana today,” he replied, referring to my preferred breakfast. “And you’re going to need to change.”
I eyed his jeans and fitted gray T-shirt. “Why?”
“We’re going on an adventure.”
“Uh, elaborate please.”
He grinned that charming grin of his. “Not a chance, darlin’. You’ll need jeans, boots, and a tank top or T-shirt.”
“I didn’t pack anything like that.”
He hummed something under his breath as he left the kitchen. I stared after him unashamedly. His ass was created for those jeans, as were his thighs. And that fitted shirt showcased all those back muscles nicely.
“I approve of casual day,” I murmured to myself before scooping some eggs into my mouth. “Oh,” I moaned. “Okay.” Will could change my mind about breakfast with food like this. “Did you add cheese or something?” I called to him after swallowing.
“Vermont white cheddar,” he replied as he strolled back into the kitchen with a shopping bag. “And bacon grease.”
“Healthy,” I joked around another bite.
“D
elicious,” he corrected. “Now, I had a feeling you didn’t bring the right clothes, so I ordered some for you. Boots, size nine.” He set a box on the marble counter beside my plate. “Jeans, size six, and a medium tank top. Did I get all that right?”
I gaped at him. “It’s a little scary how you do that.” And sexy as hell.
“Let’s just say I have a vivid imagination, Miss Dawson.” He folded his arms on the counter to lean in close. “And your clothes fascinate me more than they probably should.”
My mouth went dry at the insinuation in his tone and the heated look he gave my lips. But just when I hoped he’d kiss me again, he pushed back and wrapped that damn professional blanket around us again. “We leave in twenty minutes, so I suggest you finish that and change. I’ll meet you outside.” He picked up a cowboy hat I hadn’t noticed on the counter and plopped it on his head. “Ma’am,” he said, tipping the rim at me.
Oh, not fair. Wealthy businessman I could handle, even dressed-down millionaire, but sexy cowboy? A midwestern girl had her limits. And coupled with that Southern drawl?
“Yeah, I’m in so much trouble,” I whispered.
The clothes fit perfectly. Not that I was surprised. Will gave me a once-over and stared at my injured foot. “How does your ankle feel?”
“Secure, actually. The boots are a lot better than my heels.”
He nodded. “Good, that was my hope.” He pulled open the door of an oversized pickup truck. “Hop on in, darlin’.”
“Okay, now I’m officially in the South.” I accepted his hand to help me up into the passenger seat. “Let me guess,” I continued when he climbed in beside me. “Country music is next?”
He waggled his brows. “Worried I might covert the city girl in you?”
“Not a chance,” I replied as I pulled on my seat belt.