She twirled around, the skirt whooshing as fast as the blood in her head. “What are you doing here?”
“Listening to you worship at the altar of de la Renta.” With his toe, he gently kicked the door open wider and leaned against the jamb, raking her with one long, hungry gaze. “And totally enjoying the view.”
She touched the dress and speared him with a look. “No need to call security. Fin said I could borrow it.”
“Jessie.” His voice softened. “I didn’t make any accusations.” His gaze traveled over her at a maddeningly slow pace. The room was silent and still and very, very warm.
“That dress,” he said, his words as lazy as his wandering gaze, “was made for you.”
“Thanks.” She plucked at a silky frill, but her attention was really on the way his black T-shirt clung to his muscles and on the temperature-rising bulge of his faded blue jeans. Silk and organza were nice, but denim and cotton had had a fine place in the world, too.
“So, you can’t live without him. You love him.”
“I was talking about my horse,” she said quickly. “And you seem to be very adept at overhearing me.”
He notched an eyebrow. “I saw the light under the door and had to see who was in here. And why.”
“What are you doing here at this hour?”
“Working.”
“At eleven-thirty on a Sunday night?”
“I blew off the weekend,” he said with a casual shrug.
“What did you do?”
He crossed his arms with a pitiful expression. “It wasn’t pretty.”
What had Fin said? His shins would be black and blue from kicking himself? “You’ll be okay,” she said, fueled by the confidence that came from wearing a beautiful dress and having a gorgeous man stare lustily at the woman in it.
“Ya think so?” He took one step further.
She had to stop this game. Before she lost. “You’ll get over me,” she said simply.
The soft light cast a shadow over the stubble on his cheeks. She’d bet he hadn’t shaved since Friday.
It wasn’t pretty.
“I don’t want to get over you, Jessie.”
“Then what do you want?” She heard the temptress in her voice. White lightning zinged through her veins and a familiar ache started low in her belly.
“You.”
“Cade.” His name tumbled out of her lips, but she hardly heard it for the thundering rush of blood through her head.
He was an arm’s length away, taking all the air and space and probably the common sense right out of the room. Who needed to breathe? Who needed to move? And, to be honest, common sense was overrated.
“Jessie.” He reached for her, settling his hands on the sliver of silk at her waist. As carefully as if he were turning a priceless Ming vase, he rotated her around, so that she faced the mirror.
All she saw was a sea of lime sherbet silk, and Cade behind her, holding her, lowering his head to kiss her bare shoulder. His lips skimmed her flesh, his teeth nipping at the spaghetti strap that held the dress on her.
“I made the worst mistake of my life,” he whispered, sliding his finger under the strap as though he were testing it. “And I want to undo that mistake.”
What he was about to undo was the world’s most beautiful dress. Along with her reason and ability to resist.
Wasn’t she mad as hell at him? Didn’t he break her heart, her trust, her spirit? She tried to muster anger and resentment, but not one ounce of either one would surface.
“Listen to me,” he insisted, holding her gaze in the mirror. “I am so, so sorry I hurt you. I would do anything to take it back. To have another chance. To not make the mistake of losing you.”
She tried to say his name, but no sound came out as she stared at his reflection, at the sincerity in his eyes.
“Jessie, I won’t walk away,” he continued, his raspy tone softened by his tender hands that caressed her arms and clasped her bare shoulders. “I won’t get over you.” Easily, he glided one shoulder strap to the side, then started nudging the other one. “I won’t forget you.” Both straps loose, the bodice of the dress dropped dangerously low over her breasts. “I won’t stop…” He inched it down, down, down. The darkened circles of her nipples peeked out of the fabric’s edge, torturing her breasts with the breath of silk. “Unless you want me to.”
She lowered her head back into his chest, surrendering to the sensation of pleasure and need and want and Cade.
What she wanted was this.
Six thousand dollars’ worth of mint-colored organza and silk billowed to the floor. To the front, the right, the left and in a million echoes of reflected mirrors, she stood naked but for a flash of peach lace and a cloud of green pooled at her feet.
In the mirror, she watched his powerful hands close over her breasts, and gasped as pleasure coiled between her legs and nipples budded against his palms. Slowly, he circled her breasts, tweaking the darkened peaks, weakening her knees and dissolving every ounce of willpower.
Gradually, leisurely, he slid his hands over her stomach, pulling her into him so she could feel the roughness of his bulging jeans grazing and growing against her bare backside. His fingers, so long and dark and masculine against her pale skin, reached the triangle sliver of silk and the skinny straps that held the thong on her hips.
Jessie stared, mesmerized.
One finger dipped into the top of the tiny triangle and stroked once over her tender mound. Her legs nearly buckled as frissons of delight shimmied up and down her thighs.
He glided his hand to the side, and using only his index fingers, he slid the thong down her thighs, exposing the dampened curls between her legs.
Once again, he pulled her against him, his ragged breaths warming her ear, the steady hammer of his heart against her shoulder blades, the relentless pressure of his erection right in the small of her back.
Then he glided both hands over her stomach and dipped them between her legs, easing one finger into the slick folds and eliciting her low groan of pleasure. She rocked helplessly into his hand.
His mouth closed over her shoulder. He sucked the concave of her collarbone and throat with the same deliberate rhythm that he used to delve his finger into her.
“Let me inside you, Jessie,” he whispered against her skin. “Let me make love to you again.”
She closed her eyes and nodded, unable to speak.
In one move, he gingerly lifted her over the mountain of organza, and pushed it aside with his foot. Then he swirled her around and backed her into the mirror.
She couldn’t think about the dress, the room, the possibility of getting caught. All she could comprehend was the sudden cold surface against her back and the power and size of Cade confining her against the glass.
He trapped her there with his body and gaze and amazing, delicious hands. He lowered his head and captured her with a furious, openmouthed kiss, and a deep moan torn from his chest.
“Nothing,” he murmured into her mouth. “I have thought of nothing but you for forty-eight hours.” He pressed against her, his hands roaming her body.
She turned her head as he trailed his lips over her cheek and teased the edge of her ear with his tongue, opening her eyes to see the vision of Cade in his jaw-dropping black T-shirt and sexy blue jeans, all hard and muscular and touching every inch of her naked body. The reflection in two mirrors, in a million dimensions, seemed to go on forever and ever.
“It’s magic, honey,” he whispered, seeing where she looked.
“It’s madness,” she responded. “And I hope it’s—”
He narrowed his eyes at her. “Not a mistake,” he finished for her. “Believe me. I’ve made a few. This isn’t one of them.”
It might be tomorrow, she thought. But she just sighed and closed her eyes.
Then he started kissing his way down her body. No force of nature could close her eyes and stop her from watching the endless reflections of him crouching before her, ador
ing her breasts with his sweet mouth, dragging his hands over her ribs, licking her navel, kissing her womanhood.
He tasted the flesh of her inner thighs as he lowered the thong over her knees, her calves, and then carefully guided it over her high-heeled sandals.
Glancing up, he gave her a wicked grin. “The shoes can stay.”
When he straightened to his full height, he looked down at her, his pewter eyes intense and focused, his jaw clenched, his breathing tight and quick. “Absolutely not a mistake,” he said again.
“You’ve been wrong before.”
“Not this time.” He rocked into her. “I’m not wrong. This isn’t a mistake.”
“Even if it is.” She tugged at his T-shirt to free it from his jeans. “I want to make it.”
In one move, he swiped the T-shirt over his head and threw it to the floor. He pushed her higher up the glass, nearly lifting her feet from the ground. Fire and moisture mixed between her legs as she arched into him, moving in an unstoppable, natural beat, riding the ache and his hardness.
She reached to the snap of his jeans, yanking at the zipper with a soft laugh under her breath. “Come on, Cade.”
“Wait,” he insisted, reaching into the back pocket of his jeans, yanking a condom package out. “Hold this for a second.” He stuck it between her teeth. “But don’t take your hands off me.”
She laughed around it as he finished undressing and she raked her free hands through the rough hairs of his chest. He flipped his jeans and boxers to the side, and they landed incongruously next to the minty mountain of designer fluff.
He snagged the condom and ripped it open, barely taking his eyes from her. Sheathed, he slid his erection between her legs, urging her naked body up the slick glass as she opened her thighs to take him.
Kissing her, he penetrated her mouth with his tongue at precisely the instant he entered her. Everything was hot and wet and excruciatingly right. She clung to his broad shoulders and wrapped her legs around his hips, as he thrust in to the hilt. She sucked in the scent of sex that filled the little room, grinding out his name with each movement. Sweat and friction heated their skin, as they slid against the glass, against each other.
Again and again he plunged into her, his face dark with the intensity of the pleasure and the helpless, mindless charge toward satisfaction.
“Look at us,” he demanded, using his chin to turn her face toward the side mirror. She gasped at the vision, at the sight of this glorious man’s body making love to her.
The beauty of it, the realness and the rawness sent her right over the edge. As her body coiled and tightened and screamed for release, she closed her eyes. But when she quaked with pleasure over and over, she finally opened her eyes and watched. In the mirror, she could see him grit his teeth and let out a long, low groan of ecstasy and satisfaction as his orgasm took over, thrusting into her with sharp, hard strokes as his backside tensed and his arms squeezed her.
Finally, spent, he dropped his head against her shoulder, closed his eyes and then she saw his mouth move, saw him say the same words ringing in her blood-drained head.
I love you.
But then, he didn’t know she could see him. And saying it out loud might be the biggest mistake of all.
“I feel like a vagabond.” Jessie curled into Cade’s side, wrapping her silky bare legs around his thighs, the lingering scent of lilac and sleep all over her.
He stroked her skin from throat to navel in one long caress, loving the way she felt as smooth as polished marble and as soft as air. “I don’t think a vagabond ever felt like this.” He nuzzled in to kiss her neck and she shivered as his tongue touched the little dip in her throat.
“I mean, I haven’t slept at home in days. I spent Friday and Saturday night at Fin’s, and last night I came here to your place.”
“Sorry, but I wasn’t about to sleep on The Closet floor and my apartment was closer, and empty. Anyway, you’re no vagabond. You have a toothbrush here.”
“I have one at Fin’s now, too. See? I’m a drifter.”
He eased her a little higher on top of him, his morning erection already anticipating the warmth of her body. “Drift up here for a while. I don’t have to leave for work for an hour.”
“And I’m taking this week off, so there.” She climbed up and slid her legs around his hips, and cradled his head in her arms. Her russet-colored hair spilled over his face and neck.
“You may never have to work again,” he said, inhaling the dizzying scent of her as his hands cupped her bottom and positioned her on him. “You’re the editor-in-chief’s daughter, your supervisor’s cousin and…”
She arched up, her eyes slit in demand. “Say it.”
“Okay.” He laughed and lifted his hips and let the burn begin. “You have a special relationship with management.”
Her pretty smile faded and, without warning, she tumbled off him to the side. On her back, she draped one arm over her face and moaned quietly. “This was so not supposed to happen.”
“Baby, don’t worry.” He turned, tucking her closer. “It doesn’t change anything.”
She lifted her arm to peer at him. “It changes everything.”
For a moment, he just let her think about it, while he worked to resist the urge to drop a kiss on the sweet underarm she exposed.
“What exactly changes because we’re lovers?” he finally asked. “The situation with Fin, well, that will rock the EPH boat just for sheer gossip and shock value. And, yeah, it sounds like you have some hurdles to overcome with Patrick and Maeve, but we’re…” We’re what? How did he tell her that this wasn’t just sex, that this felt so much bigger, so much better than that?
“I didn’t plan on any of these new complications when I came here. I just wanted to meet Fin.”
“So, I’m back to being a complication.” He wasn’t sure if that disappointed him or not.
“And work is a complication.”
“What do you mean?”
She let out a long, slow breath. “I want a job.”
“You have a job. And the way you’re working on the shadow assignment virtually guarantees you an editorial assistant position when the internship ends. You know that.”
She turned on her side to line up with him. “I want it fair and square,” she said, a determined glint in her eye. “Not because you wanted to sleep with me—”
He opened his mouth to protest and she put her hand on his lips and continued, “Or because you wanted to figure out why I was avoiding Fin. Or because of the circumstances of my birth. I want it because I’m good at what I do.”
“You are,” he assured her. “You would have been picked for shadowing even if you hadn’t gotten my attention for avoiding Fin.” He couldn’t resist. He traced a single line over the sweet skin of her arm. “Or even if you hadn’t got my attention, period. Scarlet had already given you rave reviews.”
She regarded him for a moment. “Will everyone know that?”
He shrugged. “Cube chatter is part of work, Jess, and you have to rise above it. You prove yourself on every issue of Charisma and I want you on the staff. To me, that’s the end of the discussion.”
“Until we break up.”
He froze and stared at her. “We won’t.”
She scooted higher and challenged him with a look. “How can you be so sure? You know, I proofed an article on this very subject. The lower person on the corporate ladder invariably loses the job and references when an office affair ends. This might not impact your career, but it could wreck mine.”
“First of all, you’ve been reading too many magazines.” He leaned closer. “And second of all, this is not an office affair.”
“A ‘closet’ affair?” she laughed.
He moaned at the memory. “I love that closet.”
“Seriously.” She nudged him. “These are the facts. And coupled with the revelation that I’ve got Elliott blood in my veins, no one will believe that I earned my spot.”
H
e couldn’t argue that she had legitimate concerns. “I understand you feeling that way,” he said. “But what can we do? Hide how we feel? Pretend it’s not real? Act like we aren’t in…interested in each other?”
“Yes.”
His chest knotted. “I don’t want to hide this. I mean I don’t want to flaunt it, but, Jessie, I don’t want to hide.” He let a slow grin cross his face. “Unless it’s in The Closet.”
“I want it kept secret,” she said, ignoring his teasing remark and grasping his shoulder to make her point. “Please, Cade. I don’t want anyone to know. Let me get through this time, through this hurdle, as you call it, with the Elliotts.”
How long would that take? “Can I see you in the meantime?”
“Secretly.”
“I’ll take that, then. I guess I have to.” But he didn’t have to like it.
Twelve
Jessie dialed her dad’s phone number as soon as she emerged from the subway station. The week had flown by as she juggled her days with Fin and a few select members of the Elliott family whom Fin invited to lunch and dinners with them, and stole away for long, blissful nights with Cade.
Friday evening, however, she’d begged out of dinner with Fin or Cade for a much-needed stop at her apartment and an evening at home in preparation for the party the next night. She still couldn’t believe the power of the Elliott name.
She’d been certain Shane couldn’t find a location for the grand party he wanted to have, but through a business contact, he’d learned that a cold-footed bride had pulled out of a wedding in the ballroom of the Waldorf-Astoria, leaving the venue available. Invitations were sent by e-mail and half a dozen administrative assistants were tasked with handling the RSVPs.
“Hey, Dad,” Jessie said as she rounded the top of the subway station steps and started the walk through the Upper West Side. “Remember me?”
“I don’t know,” he teased. “Aren’t you my best ranch hand who ran off to New Yawk City?”
She giggled at his lousy accent. “Oh, Daddy, I’m sorry I’ve been scarce. This has been an unbelievable week.”
Dynasties:The Elliots, Books 7-12 Page 43