I kissed him fast and squeezed his hand. ‘Thanks,’ I said. ‘If possible, you made this fun. I’ll never –’
I swallowed hard around a sudden and suffocating lump in my throat.
‘Just thanks, is all,’ I said. Then I did the smart thing. I turned from him and fled to my car. When I managed to start it, it was with shaking fingers.
Part Two: Real Life
Chapter Fifteen
PLEASE CALL, CLOVER.
I turned the screen on my phone off. Considered sending a text to say I was busy but would call later. It wasn’t as if he’d hassled me. It wasn’t as if he was a stalker. He was just a very rich, very nice guy who had some grand illusion, from the scenario in which we’d met, that we could be compatible. I was smarter than that. Time together outside in real life would only show him how poorly he’d judged. What a big mistake he’d made.
It had only been a few days since our time there. He’d get the idea eventually. If I just held strong, Dorian would come to the conclusion on his own.
‘What’s up, little lady? You look sad.’ Mario leaned against the courtesy desk, his painter’s whites splattered with coloured flecks.
‘I’m fine.’ I tried on a smile and it didn’t even work for me. ‘Just a lot in my head.’
‘Your grandmother, she was fine after that monster storm, yeah?’
I nodded, grateful for friends like him. ‘Yes. She was fine. Thank you for remembering her.’
He grinned at me. ‘Nah. Thank you for sending us home so I could be with all my girls for the storm.’
He had one wife, three daughters. The only man in the house, Mario often joked he was outnumbered. Then he’d come clean and say he loved every minute of it.
‘I’m glad you were there. It was a hell of a storm.’ My fingers ran over and over the phone in my jacket pocket. I felt it buzz again.
He raised an eyebrow at me as a bunch of his crew hurried past lugging scaffolding. ‘Be there in a minute,’ he called to them. Then he followed with something in rapid-fire Spanish. I reminded myself for the billionth time to learn some Spanish.
‘What’s up, Mario? I am sensing that I’m being cornered.’
He shook his head. ‘Nah. Not cornered. I’m just worried about you. I mean, if I weren’t already married I’d ask you to be my wife.’ He winked at me because it was a standing joke.
I let myself laugh at the joke. But the laughter felt forced. ‘No need to be concerned.’
‘But I think there is. You seem sad, Clover. Just wanted to make sure you were OK. I heard you were trapped here with Mr Rich and Bossy. I just wanted to make sure …’ His face grew dark for a fleeting second and it hit me. He thought something bad had happened.
He shrugged. ‘I wanted to make sure nothing had happened that I’d need to step in and take care of. As a man. Who cares about you.’
I blinked hard because I felt like I was going to cry. Then I laughed. Then I did actually cry. Mario looked flustered but reached in his pocket and handed me a clean, neatly folded handkerchief. Had to be courtesy of Mrs Mario, I thought wildly as I dabbed my eyes.
‘I was trapped here with him,’ I laughed. ‘But nothing happened – nothing bad happened,’ I amended. ‘No need for you to defend my honour. But I love you for it.’
He smiled. ‘You sure? Because you have not been yourself since that storm, Clover.’
I nodded. ‘I’m sure. He was very nice to me, Mario. He was a good man. I just …’ I shrugged. ‘We got along fine. You have nothing to worry about. But thank you for worrying anyway.’ I smiled, wiped my eyes again.
Mario narrowed his eyes at me. ‘You … and he …’ He sighed. ‘You got along. Did you like him, Clover?’
‘Mario …’ I looked at him before shaking my head. ‘He was a nice, polite man. It was fine. Now I have a ton of stuff to do and you have a crew to boss around.’
He laughed, tilting his head back far enough and laughing loud enough that I could see the fillings in his teeth. ‘I know a brush-off when I hear one. Off I go. But you know where to find me if you need to talk. Or you could come home and talk to Esme. Or you could tell me if you’re actually fibbing and I can go kick his rich-boy ass.’
I shooed him off. ‘Go. Go. It’s all fine. He was fine. I was fine. We weathered the storm. Now back to regular boring old life.’
In more ways than one …
My phone buzzed again and I glanced at it. No way was he texting me that often. It was an unfamiliar number.
PLEASE COME TO THE DOME. URGENT.
‘Shit,’ I whispered. It had to be the specialist. I hurried down the halls, forcing myself to have tunnel vision. The Rotunda was now haunted for me. Everywhere I looked I saw us walking, holding hands, kissing. In other places the ghosts of our time together were worse. I could hear his laughter, see him smiling, smell his skin.
I rushed on, my heels clacking on the clay-coloured tile. You need to snap out of it, I told myself. Knock it off.
I passed Mario and his crew and tossed him a wave. They were the only workers here today but for the rescheduled Marcel Voorhees. He was supposed to be here. I practically ran down the final hall, thankful I took time to do cardio often, otherwise I’d have expired ages ago trying to get around this place.
I nearly skidded into the dome room and then I almost ran out.
‘Hi,’ Dorian said.
‘Dorian. I … um …’ I had nothing left to say. So I settled for ‘Hi.’
‘I tried to call.’
‘I know, I –’
He held up a hand and I went silent. ‘You can ignore me if you want, but please don’t pretend that wasn’t what you were doing when you see me.’
‘I’m not ignoring you,’ I said. I really wasn’t. I mean, that wasn’t my intention.
He frowned. ‘Really? What do you call it?’
‘I just … I’ve been –’
‘Busy?’ He sighed.
‘Yeah and –’ I caught myself and looked around.
‘Don’t worry. I have his estimate and his thoughts right here.’ He waved a sheaf of paper at me. ‘I dealt with him and then sent him on his way. After asking if I could borrow his phone to text you,’ he added with a laugh.
‘Oh, I see. Well, thanks.’
‘It is my dome,’ he said. It was the first time I’d ever heard him sound angry. It was directed at me. I knew that, and it hurt my heart to accept that.
‘I know that.’
The anger fled – I watched it bleed out of his expression – and he stepped close to me. He reached to take my face in his hands but stopped himself. Instead, he settled on gripping my wrists and leaning close. ‘What happened, Clover? Why won’t you talk to me? I thought we had fun together. I wanted to see you again. And you … won’t see me. So I just need you to tell me to my face that you don’t want to see me.’ He frowned slightly and squeezed my wrists. ‘I’m stubborn that way. I just need you to tell me to my face.’
‘I …’ His eyes were locked on me and my heart was beating fast. Way too fast, it seemed, for my body to continue to cage it. I swallowed hard, trying to tear my gaze from his lips. ‘I’m sorry. I just thought … it was the strangeness, the storm that made you want me. I was just trying to fade into the background.’
‘Why?’ He tugged me forward. He wanted to kiss me but he didn’t. Watching him restrain himself made my stomach tumble with nervous energy.
‘With some grace,’ I finished quickly.
‘I don’t want you to fade away. And if you want me to –’ he said, pulling me flush to him. His body was warm and hard and I had the fleeting thought that if I moved against him gently, rubbed my body against his, I could elicit a response from him to prove he was still attracted to me. I forced myself to stay still as he went on. ‘Jesus, Clover, if you want me to fade away you need to tell me.’
‘I don’t.’ It came out of me fast and I bit my lip. ‘But I feel like we won’t … we’re not a good fit, you and I. Not in real
life.’
He shook his head and cupped the back of mine. His lips were hot and aggressive, his breath a runaway thing as he kissed me. I was stiff in his arms at first, but when his tongue touched mine my sense memory kicked in. I remembered every stroke of his tongue over mine. The feel of his lips on my skin. The feel of his mouth on me, making me come. The sensation of him entering me. It all shotgunned through my memory with a force that made me gasp.
‘I missed this,’ he said. ‘Less than forty-eight hours and I became addicted.’
I said nothing, just took the kiss he gave me, letting my body surrender to his rough touches and hard grip.
‘Tell me to go,’ he growled.
I shook my head and my immobility lifted. I grabbed his dark hair in my hands and held on as I ran my tongue against his tongue, brushed my lips over his.
He walked me backwards and I thought for sure I’d fall, but he kept a strong hand at the small of my back. He was walking me to the small alcove, the only one in the huge room. It had once served as a place for a security guard and his chair, with a stand for a telephone. Now it was empty.
He backed me to the wall and kissed me harder. It was as if Dorian were punishing me for my silence with kisses that stole my breath and made me so unbearably wet inside.
His hands slid up my thighs, rasping on my stockings, and he hiked my skirt up around my hips. ‘I’ve been dreaming about this,’ he said as he paused to trace the tops of my stockings with a fingertip. The heat of his skin sliding along mine had my body humming with need.
I had dreamed about it too but I said nothing. I couldn’t. I was caught in the spell that often came with being in the same room as him, alone.
He bit gently down the slope of my throat and over my collarbone. He nibbled lower and then nipped my breast through my blouse and my bra. My pussy clenched as I sobbed softly. He was fast with my buttons but left the shirt on. All the while, even as he pulled down my bra cup and took my nipple into his mouth, I listened intently for the sound of any of my workers. My head felt too big for my body with the adrenalin. He bit my nipple and I clenched my insides eagerly. I wondered if I’d come without him even touching me once.
Dorian made a gruff sound and moved on to the other nipple. He captured it tight between his teeth and then tugged away from my body. The pain was sharp and sudden. When his hand shoved between my thighs to cup my mound, the pain morphed lazily into pleasure. When he squeezed me, mashing my damp panties to my sex, and then sucked roughly on my nipple, I damn near came.
‘Say you want me,’ he said. I felt him grin against my throat. I could actually feel the expression, I’d become so familiar with it in our time together. And when I was alone I could picture it. And when I was asleep it invaded my dreams.
‘I do,’ I stammered. ‘I want you. I do.’
He gripped my pussy again, rubbing his thumb against the wet fabric above my clit. The sensation was maddening. I nearly cried from frustration.
‘Please, Dorian,’ I said without thinking. That was that. That was what he’d needed from me. That was the key that released the lock. My admission of want.
He yanked my panties down and I felt my thigh-high hose roll down a little with them. He dropped to his knees and quickly buried his face between my thighs. I was so far gone that as soon as his mouth clamped down on me, as soon as his tongue found me, parted me, touched me, I was on the verge of coming. My fingers clawed at the cool marble walls and I tried to care if anyone might be approaching. I should.
I didn’t.
I arched up to meet him as he drove his tongue against me over and over, tracing circles and whirls and nudging me with the rigid tip until I couldn’t stand it any more and I came. Biting my lip, swallowing my sound. I came and he stood up, pinned me to the wall with his forearm and kissed me again. Forcing me to taste myself on his lips.
‘I had to do that,’ he said, gruffly. ‘Before I did this.’
One more kiss and he turned me quickly. My hands smacked the marble as he knocked my thighs wider apart. My heels clacked on the smooth floor but the sound didn’t override the jangle of his belt buckle as he worked it. He angled me forward and slid the tip of his cock along my opening.
The way he was acting – the force and the urgency – had me drenched. He groaned when he touched me and then said softly, ‘Good. I’m glad you’re soaked. I can’t wait.’
He was in me then. One fluid thrust and he filled me. I grunted with his effort and then sobbed when he began to move.
I imagined one of my workers stumbling in on this. Coming in to find Dorian fucking me in a nook as I braced myself against the wall, thrust back to take him, mindless and desperate to feel what it was like for us to be together again. For us to be joined.
Anyone could come in here and see.
He touched me with a fingertip and that sensation mingled with that single thought: Anyone could come in here and see … and I came.
‘Good girl. I like the way that feels.’ He rocked into me, bit the back of my neck and said, ‘I missed you, Clover. And I hated missing you. Can you tell?’
I nodded mindlessly. He took my hand and licked my middle finger. Then he guided my hand to my clit and his thrusts grew faster, stronger. ‘Touch yourself,’ he ordered.
I obeyed.
When he said ‘Jesus’ like a man defeated and laid a single kiss on my shoulder I came and this time he came with me.
Chapter Sixteen
My phone went off twice. Mario the first time, Gram the next.
‘I’m sorry,’ I said, trying futilely to put myself back together.
He snagged my wrist, me still gripping my phone, and pulled me in for a kiss. ‘Don’t avoid me,’ he said. He smiled down at me and my whole chest ached with the urge to say I was sorry and confess how I really felt. ‘Please, don’t. Just … come away with me.’
‘What?’ My face grew hot and sharp needles of anxiety pricked me all over. ‘I can’t go away!’
‘Let me take you to dinner.’
‘There’s a pizza joint around the corner!’ I ran a hand through my hair. Just the feel of it told me it was a holy mess and there was no salvaging this particular hair day.
He laughed softly and shook his head. ‘And that is what I love about you, Clover.’
He touched my face, stroked a finger down my chin. My gut instinct was to lean my face into that caress like a cat would. But I stayed straight and strong. A quick fuck in the dome room didn’t really change the fact that he was Dorian Martin and I was a worker bee and outside a bizarre situation like a super-storm we were incompatible.
The word ‘love’ was not lost on me, though, and did not fail to make me start like a spooked horse. ‘I just –’
He kissed me quiet and I let him. Pressing my mouth to his mouth, parting my lips to accept his tongue. ‘Come away with me for the night. Just the night. And don’t –’ he put a finger on my lips so I couldn’t protest ‘– answer right now. Just don’t. Think about it and text me or call me or … Jesus, send a carrier pigeon. Just answer me, OK.’ He pulled back and looked at his watch. ‘I’m sorry. I have to go to some coffee-shop opening with my mother. You know, the world needs more coffee shops.’
I laughed despite myself.
One more kiss and then he was pulling away. His gaze serious and intense as he backed up slowly. ‘Think it over. And then decide. I suggest you decide yes.’ He grinned. ‘But that’s just me. When you’re ready, let me know.’ He waited for me to nod and then he was gone. Poof! Like a ghost.
I sat on the settee where we’d made love on the first night. The illusion was intense – that if I put my hand flat on that seat I could feel the heat of our bodies. The energy of our union.
‘Dinner,’ I said. I glanced up at the dome and realised he’d taken the information about the restoration with him. ‘Not at a pizza joint, either,’ I said. ‘Away,’ I whispered.
I took an elastic band from my pocket and pulled my hair back in a mess
y knot. A glance at my phone told me it was lunchtime. I texted Mario and then my Gram. It had taken me for ever to teach her the ways of texting but finally she had it down.
Both texts said the same thing: Home for lunch …
* * *
‘My God, girl, what happened to you?’
I didn’t say anything, just shook my head and pushed past Brani. She wore her standard jogging suit. This one bright turquoise velour. Under the zipper jacket I saw her I JUST NEED A RICH MAN T-shirt.
Ugh. She was certainly not the person to talk to about this.
But Gram was the same. ‘What’s wrong, girl? You look like you took a ride on a fork of lightning.’
I thought of being pressed in that corner, skirt hiked up around my waist, panties pulled down, Dorian sliding in and out of me, taking me. I had pretty much taken a ride on a fork of lightning.
‘It’s humid,’ I said.
‘Mmm-hmm,’ Brani muttered, smiling.
I shot her a look and sat down on the sofa. I had to get myself together. ‘I need to know …’ I let my head fall back and I stared at the ceiling. My apartment living room was painted Pepto-Bismol pink. It was my grandmother’s choice and I loved her too much to argue, so I’d just gone along with it. The hideous, aggressive colour made my eyes ache so I shut them. ‘If a man asked you to go away just for the day, would you? If you … knew it was a bad idea to want to go but wanted to go anyway.’
‘Ooooh, is this about that Dorian Martin?’ Brani said. She dropped to the loveseat and leaned forward in a predatory posture.
I held my finger up. ‘Don’t! Do not! Brani, I love you, but I asked Gram. Yes, it’s him and yes, he’s rich.’ I threw my hands up. ‘But rich isn’t everything!’
Gram nodded. She looked concerned. Amused, but concerned too. ‘Good. You were raised right. Rich isn’t everything. But let’s talk about the roses in your cheeks and how you’re all wired up like we could plug you in.’
I bit my lip and tried to sit still. ‘OK,’ I said slowly. But it made me nervous. I felt as if they could look at me and know what I’d done. They probably could. And was it so wrong, anyway?
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