by Jordyn White
Not wanting to be sad, I hold his hand more firmly and lead him to the side table near the balcony doors. “Check this out.”
I pick up a crystal candlestick, which wouldn’t look too bad if it weren’t for the ugly amber stones circling the base.
“This is actually a replica. About six or seven years ago, one of our maids accidently knocked the original off the table. It was this freak thing. It hit the floor just right and shattered into pieces. Poor thing was mortified, but it was just an accident. Thankfully this happened during the cleanup we do after Katherine checks out, so she had no idea. But the problem was, they didn’t make these candlesticks anymore.”
I run my finger along the smooth bumps of the amber stones and roll my eyes. “I can’t imagine why.”
Brett chuckles.
“So Mom ended up custom ordering a duplicate.” I hold it up and eye him. “It’s crazy how much money she spent on this ugly piece of shit.” He laughs again. “But Katherine has never been the wiser, so it was probably worth it.”
“Well, it’s good to know the rumors about her being spoiled are all untrue,” he says as I put down the candlestick.
I nod. “Yeah, she’s a prima donna, for sure, but if you ever repeat that I’ll deny I said it.”
I lead him toward the balcony and we walk close. Hand in hand.
“I know I’ve been kind of poking fun at her, but she’s actually pretty special to us. When my brothers and I were kids she used to give us candy and tell us about the stories she was working on. That’s when she’s in Chatty Mode. You should’ve heard the original idea for The Name of Starlight. It was pretty out there. As we’ve gotten older, she’s just become... ah, how do I describe her?”
He opens the door for me and the salty smell of the ocean wafts in at us.
“She’s like a cross between a friend, a grandmother, and the crazy person on the street corner.”
He laughs and we step out onto the balcony. We approach the stone railing together, each leaning on our free arm, our hands still clasped together, low at our sides.
“Wow,” he says, looking out. Being at the end of the west wing, this room has the best view: nothing but ocean. That’s why Mom picked it. She figured if she couldn’t have a house, she could at least have a view.
His eyes sweep the grounds below us—which are only the grass and trees and flowers that run along the side of the hotel, no pools or guests—then the balconies within our line of sight. All empty. I know what he’s thinking. No witnesses.
I know what I should do. I should lead him back out of the room and down to the lobby. I sense how dangerous it would be to start up again. Instead, I come up off the stone railing and turn toward him.
He does the same, heat in his eyes as he steps closer. Our chests barely brush up against each other, and my nipples harden, yearning for him. He pulls me all the way against him then, and exhales like it’s a relief. I feel the same way. After all, it’s been something like fifteen minutes. Far too long.
With the distant ocean waves humming to us and the cool sea breeze playing through our hair, Brett dips his mouth to mine. We press softly together at first, lingering. This is a kiss that is both passionate and tender, and I’m caught in its snare directly. Our embrace tightens, and a hot flush spreads through my body. Soon I yield and open to him, our tongues playing together. We become more fervent, and I’m both exhilarated and disoriented by the power of the heat between us.
I’m suddenly too aware of our exposed position. Someone could come out onto one of the other balconies. That’s the only thing stopping me from doing what I want to do to him, so I break our kiss but hold his gaze. I take both his hands, walking backwards and leading him into the sanctuary of the room. Neither one of us bothers shutting the door.
We come together again, kissing with an increased level of passion. Now my hands are free to roam. My hips free to angle toward his hard length. My leg free to climb against his. Only the restrictive width of my tight skirt keeps me from going as high as I want, but I let the hem dig into my thigh as I hook my calf around his knee.
His hands are all over me too. On my shoulders and back and rear. No longer off limits, my breasts become his as he cups me with one broad hand, running his thumb over the hard nib. I exhale hotly and kiss him more fervently, needing him. I’ve needed him since he left me wanting last night. All the frustrated longing of yesterday piles onto today and I’m running recklessly forward, taking everything I can get.
Chapter 15
Lizzy
My body’s rushing me. I know it is. But it’s not only my body. My heart needs to connect with him this way, too.
But... that’s exactly why I know I need to wait, as that damned persistent voice in the back of my head keeps telling me. It’s precisely because I already feel this emotional bond with him that I don’t need to add sex into the equation yet. I need to protect myself in case this is one of those relationships that burns out as quickly as it starts.
This doesn’t feel like that though. Brett doesn’t feel temporary. It feels like he’s sinking into my soul, settling into the fabric of my life. Now that he’s here, I can’t imagine him not here.
All the more reason to be careful, the reasonable side of me whispers. New relationships are fragile, and I need to be careful not to mess anything up.
But Brett’s right here, in my arms, and I’m in his. He’s stroking my body, lighting me up, drinking me in like he can’t get enough. I want to let go and fall right into him.
Fall and fall forever.
My arms are over his shirt, under his jacket, and running along his firm back. He places one broad hand on the side of my face, then hungrily combs his fingers into my hair. He grabs hold and tilts my head back again. He plants hot, eager kisses all along my jaw and toward my ear.
“I want to run my fingers all through your hair,” he says, then impatiently sucks on my earlobe, “muss you up until you look like you’ve been well and properly handled,” his hand skates down the small of my back and over the firm curve of my ass, “and ravage every last inch of you.” His fingers tuck down between my legs, lighting my seam on fire.
I exhale thickly. He sucks and nips at my neck and I whimper once, twice. I trail my hand down to his firm ass and squeeze hard. “I...” should say no. I hesitate, trying to make myself say it. Instead I finish with, “...want that too.”
He comes up, brows pulled down. He’s breathing hard. He’s looking at me hard too, like he’s trying to figure something out. I pause for the briefest moment, feeling laid bare, like he can see my hesitation. But his mouth is right here and I want it. I go in, kissing him hard, demanding the same in return. After a moment’s pause, he gives it to me
Something in me tips. Even though that voice is still trying to talk me out of this—even though I’m still pretending to listen—deep inside I know what’s really going to happen.
I allow my hand to come around to his front. I take his hard cock in my hand and give it a firm, gratifying squeeze, making him clutch me harder and moan in my mouth.
Yes, this.
I stroke his length to the base, then back to the crown and squeeze again. His hands slip up inside my shirt, caressing me over my bra. I slide my hands up his chest and over his shoulders, dislodging his jacket. He shrugs out of it and tosses it across a nearby chair, then comes back to my neck. Tilting my head back and sighing, I grab the sides of his shirt, pulling at the fabric to untuck it from his pants. He backs up enough to untuck his shirt himself. I cross my arms and grab the hem of my shirt, lifting it off and shaking my hair out as it falls free.
His eyes skate over my chest, torso, shoulders, face, arresting his movements. I reach for the hem of his shirt, taking over, lifting it slightly. He snaps back into motion, removing his shirt in one fluid motion, the firm pecs and sculpted abs of his bare chest flexing. The sight takes my breath away. So does the sight of his hard cock pressing against the fabric of his pants. Eyes locked on it, I lo
wer the zipper on the back of my skirt. I allow it to slip past my hips and fall to the floor.
His eyes burn into me as he grabs me by the neck with one hand and by the ass with the other, pulling me in against him and diving deep into my mouth.
No going back now, the voice warns.
I could still stop, I answer.
But I won’t.
I don’t care about the fact that this is Katherine Camillo’s room. I don’t care about the fact that having sex with him will make it damn near impossible to exit this room looking as professional and put together as I did when I walked in. I don’t care about my rule.
Okay, that’s a lie. I do care about my rule, but apparently not enough because I’m backing up, leading us to the little bedroom where Katherine’s rotating band of assistants sleep. When we’re almost there, he reaches behind me and opens the door himself.
We get to the bed and I turn hastily, rip the covers down, and spin back into his arms. “Sheets are clean,” I breathe hotly, then pull him down onto the bed with me, my legs wrapping around him at last.
His weight falls on me, his hard length right on my seam, and I tilt my head back, exhaling. His hands are in my hair, and tugging down my bra strap, and squeezing my breasts, and caressing my bare side and the back of my thighs. My hands are all over him too as I rotate my hips beneath him, riding his cock and whimpering with need.
It’s over, and I know it, but surely my rule wasn’t crafted for the likes of Brett Carmichael. Surely not. I have to have him. I can’t end another day without feeling him inside me, claiming me. Body and soul.
That thought—that realization about how deep he could touch me—is enough to make the whisper of warning escalate to a high shrill. My movements slow and I pull back, still close but scanning his features with fear and wondering.
For the first time, I’m truly, keenly aware of the fact that if this is nothing but a fling for him, it will devastate me. Just the thought of it leaves me momentarily gutted.
But even that is not enough to compete with the fact that he’s right here, his heated breath mingling with mine. His body heavy and hard on mine. His eyes on mine.
Whatever it is he’s stirred up in me, both body and heart, is enough to overrule my caution. My hesitation leaves as quickly as it came. The moment was so brief, I don’t know if he’ll think anything of it. I’m not thinking much of it, because I’m back to kissing and caressing him, my senses overwhelmed with his taste and his smell and the feel of his body everywhere it’s connected to mine.
I’m going to take him. I’m going to and I’m not going to stop. I don’t care.
Chapter 16
Lizzy
“Okay, wait,” he says, lifting off me slightly. His hands are braced on either side of my shoulders and his eyes are pinched shut in pained determination. “Wait, wait, wait.”
“What’s wrong?” His raging erection is still pushed against the wet crotch of my panties, so I know it’s not that. I feel how badly he wants me.
He opens his eyes and gives me a serious look. “What about your first date rule?”
I blink unexpectedly.
No, no, no. I’m ignoring all that.
Determined to be my own rebel now, I give him a heated look and tighten my legs around his waist, pressing up against him. I watch his face with satisfaction as I get the reaction I wanted. His eyes close briefly and he exhales sharply. Oh yeah, he definitely still wants me. I’m zinging where we touch too, aching for him to fill me.
“It’s not our first date anymore,” I whisper. I reach for his belt buckle but he grabs my wrist and stops my hand.
“Hang on.”
My heart pinches, as if he’s already rejected me.
Holding my eyes, he stays close but comes off me and onto his side. I whimper in protest, needing his weight on me again, needing him to keep going. He’s still got hold of my wrist, which is fighting him slightly, my fingers needing to touch him. But I’m caught by the look in his eyes.
“Lizzy.” My heart is pounding. He’s looking right inside me. “Is today really all that different from last night for you?”
I hesitate. How does he know this?
I want to say, Take me, please.
But the part of me that needs the rule is coming to the surface and I can’t stop her.
“Uh...” I say, unable to think. Uncertain. My arm softens slightly and I stop fighting his hold. His grip on my wrist loosens. His hand slides from my wrist down to my fingers and squeezes. My body is still yearning for him. My heart wants him just as badly. I’m so achy I’m all but squirming, but he’s looking right at me like he knows I could regret this and I don’t know what to do.
“Um...”
Still holding me in his gaze, he lets go of my hand and cups my face. “Why do you have that rule, Lizzy?”
His inquiry is too sincere to fight against. The muscles in my body release slightly, and I close my eyes. Well, fuck.
His hand comes off my face and rests on my bare stomach. I look to the ceiling, letting the back of my hand come to my forehead. I glance at him. He’s watching me, waiting for an answer.
Shit.
I sigh and roll on my side toward him. His hand slides up my arm and rests on my shoulder. I tuck my fingers under my cheek and feel the heat pulsing through my body in frustrated waves.
I keep my eyes on the soft hair on his chest, resisting the urge to touch it. “I have that rule,” I say, resigned to the fact that sharing this with him will put an end to anything physical today, and could freak him out in general, “because I’ve made mistakes about this before. Mainly when I was younger.”
I glance up at him. He’s still listening. My eyes drop back to the safety of his chest. “I had a tendency to just... go too fast. It took me awhile to figure out the right speed.”
I glance at him again. The open and understanding expression on his face encourages me to linger there. My body, which has not truly stopped aching, starts to heat up even more, just from looking at him. I want to kiss those lips of his, caress that chest, climb on top of him and feel his hard cock slide deep inside me. Part of me doesn’t want to admit defeat. I need him.
But he seems intent on understanding the rule, which I’m really fucking regretting mentioning yesterday. “Today doesn’t seem much slower than it would’ve been last night,” he says, looking concerned. “Is it?”
Ugh. Why does he have to be so sensible about this? Whyyyyy?
But he’s right. “No. It’s not really about time exactly, but no. You’re right.” Ugh.
He furrows his brows. “If it’s not about time, what is it about?”
I close my eyes and rub my forehead. I’m not really sure I want to tell him, but end up just coming out with it. “I’ve rushed into things thinking the person I was with was feeling what I was feeling and...” I shrug, “having a really hard time later when I found out it wasn’t the same for him.”
“Because you were attached and he wasn’t?”
I nod. “That’s never a fun situation anyway, but it’s a lot harder for me to deal with if there’s been sex involved, you know? It’s...”
I sigh. I’ve been with guys who’ve judged me for this, or tried to pressure me and push past my boundaries. Brett’s different. I feel no pressure. No judgment. Just understanding. I’m grateful for it, but it doesn’t stop me from wishing I were different somehow so I could just have him right now like I want to. Now that we’ve started this conversation, however, there’s no going back. I might as well finish laying it all on the line.
“It’s really better for me to wait until I know there’s going to be some longevity in the relationship.”
“Marriage?”
“No. God, no. Just, some level of commitment. I need someone to be interested enough to be only with me while we see where things go. You know what I mean? I can’t be casual with people. It’s not good for me.” It’s gut wrenching, actually, as I remember well enough.
�
�Ah.” His face softens. “I see.” We lie there for a moment longer, his hand gently playing with my hair, his eyes considering me.
My body is still revved up. I’m damn-near nude—just in a bra and panties—and so close to his body that my yearning for him hasn’t gone away one whit, yet I’m relenting at last. I need him in a way I’ve never experienced before, and even though I can tell he wants me too, the truth is, I don’t know where he stands in all this and it’s too early to even try to find out. I’ve learned that the hard way, too.
“Well, if that’s all it is,” he looks into my eyes and runs his fingertips down my arm, “there’s nothing for you to worry about on my end.”
I blink at him. My breath catches in my throat and eyebrows slowly raise. I come up onto my elbow, bringing myself even with his line of sight.
“What?”
He smiles and kisses me gently, cupping my face. His kiss draws me nearer and nearer to him, until our stomachs meet. My fears about being reckless with him dissipate. All the yearning I’ve been feeling for him expands to fill its place. Our tongues touch almost tentatively. A plume of heat drops through me, blossoming between my legs.
When he breaks our kiss, he stays close and continues to hold my cheek. His eyes have darkened with desire, but he says steadily, “This means something to me. You’re not alone in that.”
I exhale.
“We can still wait if you want—”
But I press my lips to his again. I’ve heard all I need to hear. If he has more to say, he can say it later. I hook my leg over his hip, exhilarated by the freedom to touch him without anything holding me back. After a half-second’s pause, his arms tighten hard around me and his hand comes into my hair. Our mouths open to each other and I feel wrapped inside him as he rolls on top of me. I whimper as his weight settles back on me at last. God, I need this so much.
Apparently our conversation did nothing to cool him down, because his cock presses hard against the tender spot between my legs. I wrap myself around him, rotating my hips and gasping when he angles hard against me too.